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dnfhascorruptedme · 27 days ago

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Drunk in Love

Azriel x Archeron!reader

Summary: The reader has been having a hard time adjusting to her new Fae life. Mor convinces the Inner Circle to go to Rita’s, where she gets drunk. Azriel has to deal with the aftermath. Easy enough, right? Except for the fact that the reader doesn’t know about the stubborn mating bond between them.

Word count: 6.7K

This was a bad idea, he thought as he walked by your side. Mor had convinced everyone to spend the evening at Rita’s, even you.

He knew you didn’t like to go out much based on the fact that you always made an excuse whenever anyone invited you somewhere. You’d say that you had to run an errand or do some other important-sounding task.

They all knew that wasn’t true, but Feyre had made each of them promise not to pressure you. He didn’t blame you for not wanting to go out.

He considered himself a fellow homebody as well, preferring to nurse a cup of tea in the quiet of the living room rather than drink himself sick on a night out. But he knew that it wasn’t just a preference for the indoors that kept you from accepting the invitations you’ve been extended. He’d been observing you ever since you’d arrived at the House of Wind.

You’ve been handling your Fae transformation differently than your sisters. You hadn’t completely shut down like Elain, but you weren’t lashing out like Nesta either. You were much more subtle about the demons that haunted you. You didn’t just decline to go out with the others, you hardly left the house period, which is why the notion that you had errands to run sounded ridiculous to everyone else.

He had thought it was due to you trying to adjust to your new life here in Velaris, but it didn’t seem like you were doing much adjusting in the six months that you had been here. Not only did you decline to go out, but you often refused to participate in any of the group hangouts either.

For instance, sometimes the Inner Circle would play cards in the living room, shouting over each other as the game got heated. You would just sit in the armchair in the corner, never joining in, but always watching. Here and there, Cassian would try to convince you to join, and when you dutifully murmured a soft “No thanks,” Cassian would play it off like you were just scared of losing against him. You’d give a small smile in response, but you never changed your mind.

At dinner, you’d be almost totally silent, only responding when spoken to. He would occasionally catch you leaning toward him during dinner time, almost like you wanted his shadows to cloak you too. He never said anything about it, just let his shadows ease away from him the tiniest bit.

Your behavior had started to worry him and he could tell Feyre was worried too. He’d occasionally catch her and Rhysand discussing you when he’d walk past their bedroom door, and it was happening more often than not lately. Feyre would voice how concerned she was and Rhysand would always soothe her, saying that you’d snap out of it eventually. That day still hasn’t come.

The only time you seemed truly at home was at night. He’d often hear your footsteps leaving your room long after the others were asleep. He didn’t want to spy on you, but he’d sometimes send his shadows after you just to make sure you were okay.

You usually curled up on the couch for a couple of hours with a book before trailing back up to your room. He didn’t know why you couldn’t just do that in the daytime, but he was never one to pry. He knew more than most how important alone time was.

What concerned him most was, well…he was your mate. You didn’t know of course and he didn’t plan on telling you.

It happened on the night you were Made. His eyes had met yours after you had emerged from the Cauldron and he knew from then on that he was done for.

It was a struggle not to crowd you and ask if you were okay everyday. It took effort not to join you at night just to keep you company. He had promised himself he wouldn’t be overbearing. If something happened naturally, he wouldn’t be against it, but he wasn’t going to be the one to initiate something.

On and on this cycle went until today.

This morning, Mor had plopped down on the couch beside you with a big grin. He knew that grin. It meant that Mor had a plan up her sleeve, a plan that the person on the receiving end of the grin usually didn’t like.

”I was thinking…” she started in a light and airy tone. “It’s been so long since all of us had a night out on the town.”

Cassian smirked, picking up on the fact that Mor was feeling mischievous today. “What did you have in my mind?”

She smiled. “I was thinking that we should all go to Rita’s tonight.” She looked around the room to gauge everyone’s reactions.

Rhysand smiled back knowingly. “I think you just want an excuse to get drunk tonight.”

She shrugged casually. “What’s wrong with that? I think we all need a distraction. It’s been so boring here lately.”

Feyre sat down on the opposite side of her. “That’s a good thing. It means that nothing is going wrong.”

Mor rolled her eyes. “Sure, but it also means no one is having fun. Who’s in?”

Cassian rubbed his hands together. “I’m in. I could use a drink…or ten.”

Azriel chuckled lowly. “Of course you could, you alcoholic.”

Cassian put his hands up in defense. “Hey, I only get drunk on the nights that we go out.”

He scoffed. “Yeah, and then we have to carry your sorry ass back home.”

Mor interrupted the back and forth he and Cassian had going to speak to Rhysand. “What about you? You in.”

Rhysand turned to Feyre and after a moment she nodded. “We’re in.”

”Good. Amren?”

”It beats sitting at home,” Amren called back from the kitchen.

Mor smiled giddily and then turned toward him expectantly. He contemplated his answer. It was true that the last group hangout was a while ago and he didn’t mind the idea of having a small drink to take off the edge. “I’ll go…only if I don’t have to drag Cass home at the end of the night.”

Cassian flicked him off and he just shook his head in mock disappointment.

Mor shifted her body towards you. “What about our little party pooper over here?”

His jaw clenched as he watched you frown at the accusation, and he had to force himself to not scold Mor for her insensitivity.

”I have things to do,” you murmured.

Mor clicked her tongue. “Bullshit.”

”Mor!” Feyre reprimanded her before he got the chance to.

”What?” Mor asked like she hadn’t just rudely called you out. “We all know she has nothing better to do. She never goes out with us.”

He stepped forward from his spot in the corner, arms crossed over his chest. “Not everyone wants to spend time with a bunch of loud drunks, Mor.”

Mor ignored him and continued speaking to you. “Come on, it’ll be fun. Dancing, drinks, good food. What’s not to like?”

You started to shake your head, but Feyre moved from her spot on the couch and crouched down in front of you.

”Y/N…” she said quietly. “It could be good for you. You might end up liking it.” She squeezed your knee softly.

You looked away from her, your jaw clenching in the process. He knew you were gearing up to decline again

”Hey, look at me,” Feyre pleaded softly.

He watched attentively as you slowly turned your head back to her. The room was silent, giving you and Feyre a moment to speak.

“Just try it. One night. A couple hours, that’s all I ask.”

You looked like you’d rather be anywhere else than having this conversation right now. Mor was on the edge of her seat at the thought that you might finally agree to go somewhere.

You chewed on your lip nervously before breaking eye contact. “Fine,” you mumbled quietly.

His eyebrows raised, not sure if he had heard you correctly.

Mor let out a squeal of excitement. “I promise you won’t regret this, Y/N. You can borrow one of my dresses to wear tonight! I have plenty.”

He saw your face twist up uncomfortably at the prospect and again he felt the urge to give Mor a good talking to.

”I have my own—“

Mor cut you off. “Nonsense, those won’t do. You need something sexy.”

Mother, help him.

—

That was how you had ended up next to him in one of Mor’s many dresses and a pair of Feyre’s heels as the group approached Rita’s.

His eyes ran subtly over your form. You were wearing a black dress that was tight and short, and he couldn’t help but notice how you had to keep tugging the bottom of it down. He averted his gaze, not wanting you to notice his blatant staring. You were uncomfortable enough as it is.

Any normal person would feel bad for you, but Mor just looked delighted as she stared at her handiwork. “Looking tempting, Y/N.” She shot a flirtatious wink at you.

Cassian let out a low whistle. “I have to say, you look delicious right now.”

He fought back the urge to growl at the two of them. You were already uneasy, and they were only making things worse.

You gave a tight smile in response, still trying to tug your dress down.

”Alright, alright, you’re going to make her change her mind,” Feyre scolded.

Cassian gave his signature smile, showing all of his teeth. “I was just complimenting her.”

Rhysand flashed his own pearly white smile at the bouncer, who let them skip the line without question—perks of being the High Lord.

Azriel nudged your arm as they entered Rita’s. “If you get tired of their bullshit, just say the word and I’ll fly you back home.” He didn’t want you to feel pressured to stay here.

You nodded subtly, keeping close to him as Rhysand escorted the group to a private booth in the back. He observed all the sweaty bodies on the dance floor moving to the beat of the loud music in the background.

Everyone piled into the booth, squishing together like sardines. He was the last one in, his clothed thigh pressing against your bare one as he scooted in. He flexed one of his hands. Composure was key in this situation.

You leaned toward Feyre, trying to make room for him and he let out a breath of relief.

Mor clapped her hands together. “So, what does everybody want?”

Rhysand spoke up. “Drinks are on me tonight. Just don’t go overboard.” He shot a pointed look at Cassian.

Cassian cupped a hand around his ear like he hadn’t heard him. “What was that? You said drink until your coffers are empty?”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “I mean it. We’re not here to black out,” he said in a warning tone, but everyone knew that Cassian couldn’t be stopped once he got started.

Mor leaned forward. “I’m going to order you a fruity drink, Y/N. You’ll hardly be able to taste the alcohol.”

Your head shot up quickly. “I don’t drink.”

It was true, he had never seen you drink the whole time he’d known you.

”You can’t come to Rita’s and not drink,” Mor stated like it was a concrete fact.

”Mor, let her be. If she doesn’t want to drink, then she doesn't have to,” Rhysand warned.

He saw you give Rhysand a grateful smile, looking relieved that the High Lord was defending your choice.

Mor’s pout strengthened and he knew she wasn’t going to let this go.

”But she’s never tried one. She doesn’t even know if she’ll like it or not.”

He shook his head. Mor was really starting to get on his nerves. “If she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to,” he said firmly. Besides, you looked like one strong drink would have you under the table, and Fae alcohol was not to be messed with.

Mor just turned to Feyre. “Feyre, a little help here?”

Feyre looked a little annoyed herself, but she angled toward you with a soft smile. “You don’t have to drink if you really don’t want to, but you might like it. You’ll never know if you don’t try it. Who knows, it may even help you relax a bit.”

His eyes traced your lips as you chewed on your bottom one, a habit he noticed you did often. He’s learned that it meant you were thinking, or you were nervous, or both.

As his eyes moved lower, he saw that your hands were balled up into fists on your lap. He felt the need to take your hands in his and soothe you, but he only forced his eyes back up. You could fight your own battles. He had promised himself he wasn’t going to be some territorial overprotective mate.

You took a deep breath and lifted your head up to face Mor. “I guess I’ll try one—“

Mor was out of her seat before you could finish your sentence. “Great! I’ll order drinks for everyone.”

Your gaze trailed after her helplessly. Azriel nudged you once more, and his breath caught in his throat as your eyes met his. You were close. Really close.

He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to. I won’t tell if you won’t,” he said quietly so that the others couldn't overhear.

You shook your head. “One won’t break me. As long as it gets Mor off my case.”

He chuckled quietly. “She’s persistent, I’ll give her that. But if you start to feel uncomfortable, let me know and I’ll tell her to knock it off. She’s not exactly the best with boundaries.”

”So, I’ve learned,” you murmured back.

He smirked at your response and was about to reply when Mor came back carrying a tray of drinks for everyone.

She set down two orange-colored drinks in front of you. “I got you two in case you like the first one.”

You sighed under your breath as you slid one of them closer to you.

He watched as Mor pressed a drink into his own hands—vodka by the looks of it. Was she trying to get him drunk?

”Drink up everyone!” She exclaimed cheerfully, already gulping down her own drink.

He observed you out of the corner of his eye as you took a tentative sip of your drink and grimaced.

”That bad?” Cassian teased as he watched you.

"Alcohol's not my thing. Even when it’s watered down by whatever sugary syrup they put in here.”

”You say that now. Just wait a while and you might change your mind,” Cassian responded, smiling mischievously.

You just took another sip, trying not to make a face at the taste.

—

Rhysand and Feyre had both gone to the dance floor, now locked together as they swayed back and forth sensually. Cassian was at the bar chatting up a pretty Fae who seemed interested enough. Amren was off Cauldron knows where doing Cauldron knows what.

He was still beside you in the booth, as was Mor, unfortunately.

Mor rested her head in her hands, staring intensely at you as you finished off the second drink. She had all but refused to leave you alone until you had drunk both glasses of alcohol.

Every time he had tried to make a comment about it, Mor had shushed him, stating that you were a big girl and that you could handle it.

He reserved himself to watching in distaste, but you had seemed eager to get it over with, if only so she would leave you alone.

When you finally finished, Mor smiled proudly. “I’ll leave you two to it.” She quickly slipped out of the booth and over to the dance floor.

You looked flushed as you played with the hem of your dress—another nervous habit of yours. He had had one drink himself, but he still felt fine.

He leaned down so that you could hear him over the blasting music. “You okay?”

You turned toward him and he noticed the glazed over look in your eyes. You bit your lip and looked back down at your lap, an action that made him clench his fists again. “I’m fine,” you said quietly.

He tried to catch your eye. “You sure?”

You nodded and he couldn’t help but feel worried when you still wouldn't look up at him. It went on like that for a while, you silently staring at your lap and him trying not to make it obvious that he was staring at you.

He cleared his throat, the sound making you tilt your head up. “How are you enjoying the House of Wind?” he asked lamely, attempting to make conversation.

You blew a piece of hair out of your face. “It’s fine,” you said flatly.

”Just fine?” he pushed.

”It’s not home,” you declared solemnly.

His eyes softened. “Do you…miss home?” He didn’t want to stir up old feelings, but he had been so curious as to how you were feeling.

You shifted in your seat, making your dress ride up even more than it already was. He tried not to look at your upper thighs. He felt like a perv.

“Not exactly.”

He swallowed, trying to figure out how to respond. “But you don’t like it here?” he asked hesitantly.

You were suddenly on your knees, crawling over his lap sloppily, and he tried not to let out a grunt at the feel of your body sliding against his.

Clumsily, you slipped out of the booth and started to walk away from him. He grabbed your wrist gently before you could get too far. “Where are you going?”

You pulled your wrist away quickly. “The dance floor.” You twirled around again, not bothering to tug your dress down this time as you walked away.

He quickly followed after you. Cauldron forbid you face plant on the dance floor. He stepped onto the dance floor after you.

You just stood there. He stood slightly behind you awkwardly, waiting for you to do something. You turned around to face him. Your face looked more flushed than it had under the booth lighting, and he could see that your pupils were now blown wide. It seemed like the alcohol was finally catching up to you.

”Do you dance?” you blurted out over the music.

He hesitated, caught off guard. “Not often.”

A frown tugged at the corner of your lips and he quickly added “—but I know the basics.”

You looked up at him expectantly. He shook off his nerves and gathered the courage to hold out his hand out to you.

You placed your hand in his palm gently. Your skin was warm. The contact made tingles run up his arm. He sucked in a breath as he tentatively put a hand on your waist. You stiffened and he almost pulled back, but then you took a small step forward.

”I want another drink,” you whispered.

“I—are you sure that’s a good idea?” He didn’t want to baby you, but you were already feeling a little unsteady in his arms.

You pull away hurriedly, already headed to the bar. “I’ll go get one. You stay here,” you say over your shoulder.

He stood awkwardly among the sea of bodies as you approached the bar and waited for a bartender to notice you.

A male sitting at the bar eyed you up and down, making him uneasy. He looked like a prick. You were under the influence of alcohol, and he didn’t want any males taking advantage of you in your unguarded state.

The bartender slid you a drink—another orange one—and he saw the male lean in to whisper something in your ear.

He couldn’t hear what was said over the music, but his eyes narrowed when you leaned away and tugged your dress down. He saw you take a step away, but the male placed a hand on your waist, keeping you in place.

He was across the room in seconds. He placed a hand on your back and felt you tense. He rubbed his thumb up and down in apology. “Ready to head back?” he asked you loudly, glaring at the male. The male immediately removed his hand from your waist at the first glimpse of him. He tended to have that effect on people.

You nodded quickly, leaning toward him. He tapped your back, signaling for you to move with him as he guided you back onto the dance floor.

Your breath was a little heavier now. He shouldn’t have let Mor bring you here. He leaned down to speak to you gently. “Are you alright?”

You stared back at the male who was now staring at the wall ahead of him, avoiding your gaze. He squeezed your side gently, trying to bring your attention back to him.

You turned your head back to him and stepped closer, absentmindedly taking a long sip of your drink. “Huh?”

He kept rubbing your back. How inebriated were you? “I asked if you were alright.”

You let the straw slide out of your mouth. “Oh.”

The glazed over look on your face had gotten worse and he grew concerned. “Did that guy say something to you?”

He saw your jaw clench and he wanted to rub his thumb against it. He hated seeing you in distress.

You got up on your tippy toes to whisper in his ear like it was some secret. “He said I had nice legs.”

His grip tightened on you slightly as he looked back at the male who was still avoiding both of your gazes.

You continued. “Then he asked me if I wanted to come home with him.”

So he was a prick. If you weren’t here right now, he would seriously consider punching that guy in the face. He looked back down. “I think we should all go home.”

You shook your head vigorously and took another sip of your drink.

His eyebrows furrowed. “Why not?”

You sighed in frustration. “Because—because I’m not a party pooper!”

He bit the inside of his cheek as he heard your words. “Is this about what Mor said this morning?”

You stubbornly shook your head again. “No.”

He stared at you in disbelief. “Then why don’t you want to go home?”

You groaned and took another sip of your drink, refusing to answer him.

He put a finger under your chin and felt your breath catch. He ignored that little tick, wanting an answer from you.

”Look, everyone else is having a good time. I’m not going to ruin their night,” you responded. “Like always,” you added under your breath, but he heard it anyway.

He tugged on your wrist. “Then come back to the booth at least.” He heard you let out a protest, but he was already pulling you along with him.

You stumbled slightly over your heels and he slowed down. He had to remember that you were on the verge of being drunk. He reached the booth and pushed on your back gently, gesturing for you to get in before him.

Once you were in, he slid in after you, pressing close. You still had that fruity drink in your grasp. He watched you take another sip.

”I think that’s enough,” he said as he slid the drink out of your reach.

”Hey!” You reach over him to try to retrieve it, but he just pushes your arm down. “I was drinking that!” you exclaimed.

He took a deep breath through his nose. He was the shadowsinger. He had held in his emotions plenty of times before and he wasn’t going to let them get the best of them now.

“You’ve had a lot tonight. You’re not used to drinking. You need to stop now or you're going to be face down over the toilet tonight.”

”You’re not the boss of me!” You whine as you suddenly swing your leg over his lap to try to reach for your drink.

His hands found purchase on your waist, trying to keep you still. “Stop it,” he grits out through his teeth. He had never seen you throw a temper tantrum like this.

You keep trying to reach for the drink, but he feels you freeze as you both hear a low whistle from behind you. He looks up to see Cassian standing at the edge of the booth, a shit-eating grin on his face. He looked much less sober than when he arrived.

”Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

You glance over your shoulder at him. “He took my drink.”

Cassian chuckles. “Looks like you’ve had a bit too much to drink.”

Azriel sits up straighter, hands still on your waist. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her. A little help here?”

Cassian smiles knowingly and scoops you up like you weigh nothing, steadying you on your feet.

He immediately gets up after you and grabs your wrist. “Let’s go.”

You ignore him and speak to Cassian instead. “Tell him I’m not going back yet.”

Cassian pats your shoulder like you’re a small child. “Normally I’d be all for you drinking, but you need to go home. You’re starting to slur your words.”

You glare at Cassian. Azriel senses you’re about to argue with Cassian as well, so he just drags you by the wrist.

He feels you trail behind him helplessly, but not before you yell over your shoulder at Cassian to tell Mor you’re not a party pooper.

He can’t help but chuckle lowly as he gets you outside and into the cool night air. You tap your foot angrily. You were cute when you were angry, but he would never admit that out loud.

He scoops you up bridal style.

You yelp and cling onto him. “What are you doing?!”

”Flying you home,” he states like it’s obvious.

”Oh,” you murmur, simmering down.

He makes sure you’re secure in his arms before he starts to flap his wings. The feel of you against him isn’t lost on him.

“Hold on tight.”

—

Getting you home was surprisingly easier than he thought. You were practically limp in his arms due to the alcohol making you sleepy. By the time he carried you through the balcony doors of the House of Wind, you were mumbling incoherently against his shoulder.

He carried you up the stairs and finally set you down on the edge of your bed. You rubbed your eyes tiredly. You looked like a toddler who had stayed up way past your bedtime. It was adorable.

He put his hand on your shoulder and crouched down in front of you. “You okay?”

”I’m tired,” you slurred.

He sighed and started undoing the straps of your heels. “I know. You need to sleep. You’re going to have a hell of a hangover tomorrow.”

You kept your face buried in your hands as he stood up, moving you up near the headboard of the bed. He pulled your covers back, making sure you were tucked in comfortably before he leaned back up. He was readying himself to leave until your hand grasped the collar of his shirt.

He froze over you. “What are you doing?”

You didn’t answer, continuing to stare up at him like a lost doe.

He pulled your hand from his collar gently, but you just grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt instead. Oh no, were you a clingy drunk?

“What’s wrong?” He whispered.

Your fingers twisted around his sleeve as you avoided eye contact with him.

“Y/N, what is it?”

You tugged on his sleeve. “Stay here.”

He tensed. That wasn’t a good idea. In fact, that was a horrible idea. “Just go to sleep,” he pleaded, pulling his sleeve away. He stood up, taking a couple steps away.

”Wait,” you called out to him in a whiny voice.

He gritted his teeth, stopping in his tracks. Why did you have to say it like that? He couldn’t deny you when you were practically begging for him to stay. Besides, he was worrying you’d choke on your own vomit in your sleep.

He stiffly walked back until he was sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

”Lay down,” you demanded.

His eyes widened at your tone, but he stayed where he was. “Please just close your eyes,” he begged.

”Lay down,” you repeated louder.

He took a deep breath. He could deal with staying in here with you, but lying down next to you? In close proximity, no less? He shook his head. “No, Y/N.”

”Please?” you pleaded with those puppy dog eyes of yours.

He stifled a shaky breath. You were going to be the death of him. Resigning himself to his fate, he slowly laid down next to you. “Happy now?”

You nodded and he cursed under his breath as you suddenly climbed onto his lap, now straddling him. He could feel the heat of your thighs on either side of him as your dress rode up a little too high. It’s official—you were trying to kill him.

He looked up at you in disbelief, his hands automatically moving to your waist so that you didn’t fall over. We’re you out of your mind?!

”What the hell are you doing?” he asked. The alcohol had definitely gotten to you now, as you just giggled on top of him in response. Something inside of him lit up at the sound of it, even though he was having a hard time controlling himself right now.

You played with the buttons of his shirt absentmindedly.

He pinched your side, and you let out a petulant sound that he had to fight the urge to smile at.

”I asked you a question, Y/N.”

You finally shrugged casually. “Sitting.”

He scoffed. “Sitting. In my lap. Drunk as a skunk.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “I’m not that drunk. I only had like one or two.”

”You had three, Y/N. And you are that drunk considering you're climbing all over me like a monkey.”

You sighed loudly and brought your hands to his hair, starting to run your fingers through it.

His eyes fluttered shut for a second before he remembered the position you were in, and he squeezed your waist. “Get off. You need to go to bed.”

You huffed. “I am in bed.”

Gods, you had to stop acting so casual about all of this or he was going to combust. “You’re not sleeping, though.”

You shrugged again. “It’s not that late. I have plenty of time to sleep.”

He started to slide you off of him, and you immediately grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and clenched your legs around his sides like a vice. For Cauldron’s sake. He was done for.

“Stop it!” you protested.

He tried to rein in his instincts to just pull you down and let you sleep on top of him. ”Y/N, you can’t stay on top of me like this. You need sleep.”

”Why can’t I?” you countered.

He looked at you like you were insane. “Because—because it’s inappropriate.”

You leaned down a bit, and he held his breath.

“Is it?” you asked. “We’re friends, aren't we?”

Friends. Right. Except for the fact that a stubborn bond tied you two together and he was starting to lose all manner of sense and decorum around you. “It’s still inappropriate.”

You ignored his words and leaned down even more. “You’re the only one that gets me,” you whisper.

His hold on you lessened. Why did you have to say things like that? “What do you mean?”

You avoided his gaze, continuing to play with his shirt.

He let you have a moment to gather your thoughts.

Finally, you spoke. “The others expect things from me.”

His thumb ran absentmindedly over your hip. “What things do they expect from you?”

Your eyes met his and he could see the turmoil in them. “Lots of things.”

”Like?” He prodded, trying to get you to open up to him.

“You’re my favorite,” you said abruptly, changing the subject.

He swallowed. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

You paused for a moment and it looked like you were contemplating your next words carefully. “Am I your favorite?”

The way you were looking at him right now, like you would be crushed if his answer was no—he couldn’t disagree.

He nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course you’re my favorite.”

You beamed and it made him wish he had Feyre here right now to capture it in one of those paintings of hers.

Your eyes spotted a rogue shadow curling around your leg, and before he could call it back, you reached down to touch it.

He watched in amazement as the shadow wrapped around your wrist like a bracelet.

He forced the shadow to come back to him. ”Sorry, they don’t usually act like this.”

You shook your head. “I like them.”

You liked them? No one had ever said that they liked his shadows before. Most looked at them like they were going to attack at any moment.

“They’re cool,” you said as another rebellious shadow trailed up your arm.

His brows furrowed. “Cool?”

You nodded and finally looked back at him. “I think you’re cool,” you stated firmly.

The corners of his mouth tugged up. Now you were just messing with him. “You’re full of compliments tonight, aren’t you? Trying to butter me up?”

“It’s the truth.”

Yeah, you were definitely under the influence. ”Whatever you say.”

Your hands tightened on his shirt. ”I’m not lying.”

He let the subject go. “Ready for bed now?”

”No.”

He sighed. “When will you be ready for bed, then?”

”Whenever I feel like it.”

His fingers tapped your side. You were stubborn when you were drunk. “You can’t just stay up all night.”

You ignored his statement and looked down at his hands on your waist, like you had just realized they were there.

He started pulling his hands back, not wanting you to get uncomfortable, but you immediately stopped him. He froze as you brought one of his hands up to eye level.

”See? Even your scars are cool.”

He swallowed uncomfortably and pulled his hand back. “They’re just scars.”

You frowned. “I’m sorry, Azriel. I didn’t mean to—“

He cut you off. “It’s fine.”

You shook your head. “It’s not.” You suddenly laid down on him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Forgive me?”

He tensed up at the feel of your chest touching his and the sensation of your breath on his neck. ”There’s nothing to forgive,” he said tightly.

”I was insensitive.”

”It’s no big deal—“

”You know they're beautiful, right?” You whispered in his ear.

He was quiet for a moment. “They’re just scars.”

”Yeah, beautiful ones.”

He wasn’t used to you talking to him like this. It made him feel nervous. He was the shadowsinger, the spymaster of the Night Court, and yet here he was getting nervous because his mate was giving him too many compliments. “Y/N, please go to bed.”

You leaned back up, putting a finger under his chin and tilting his head up toward you.

”Are you mad at me?” you asked, sounding worried.

”No, Y/N—“

”Please don’t be mad at me,” you pleaded in a soft voice.

He reached for your hand, tugging it back down to your side.

”I’m not mad. Stop working yourself up.” He wanted to tell you that he could never be mad at you, but he kept that thought to himself.

Your grip on his shirt lessened. “I should—I should go home,” you said out of the blue.

He froze. “What?”

”I’m just a burden here. I can’t live like this. I can’t keep pretending everything is normal when it’s not and I can’t deal with the pressure and the—“

Where was all this coming from? He cupped your cheeks, making you look down at him. “You are not a burden. Understand?”

“I am. I can’t adjust. Not like Feyre.”

He shook his head. ”Feyre was a different case. We can help you adjust. And it’s expected that you’re struggling. We don’t expect you to just snap back to your old self after what’s happened. You’ve got to stop putting yourself down.”

Tears started prickling the corners of your eyes, and his stomach dropped at the sight.

He sat up with you still in his lap. “Hey, hey, come here.”

He pulled you into his arms quickly, hoping he could stop the tears before they were shed. He could feel your form trembling as you tried to hold them back.

“Hey, it’s okay, don’t cry please. I know this all must be so overwhelming for you.”

He felt you wipe tears on his shirt, but he didn’t mind. He just kept rubbing your back lightly.

“I miss feeling normal. The stability. The routine,” he heard you say against his shoulder.

Of course you did. Your life was practically ripped away from you. How could you not? ”That’s understandable. You can always create a new routine here.”

You sniffled and finally raised your head back up to look at him. “How?”

”Well, you can start training with Cass and I. We can get you strong, get you used to this new body. I can take you places. Show you around Velaris, you know? And Feyre can answer any questions you have about being Fae. She’d know best what you’re going through.”

”You’d train me?” you asked like you were in doubt.

That was all you’d gotten out of that? That’d he train you? He smiled. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask.”

He saw you smile a little in return, and he was grateful that he could cheer you up.

“I’m pretty weak, you know.”

He chuckled. ”That’s the point of training. It’ll build up your endurance.”

You nodded weakly and he softened, bringing a hand to your cheek.

”It’ll be okay,” he said as he ran his thumb over your cheek.

He felt you leaning into his touch, and he couldn’t help but look at your lips. They looked so soft and you looked so pitiful. He longed to kiss you just to wipe the doubt and worry off your face.

He blinked, remembering the situation. You were inebriated and you still didn’t know about the bond. Now was not the time for desire to sink its claws into him.

He pinched your cheek playfully. “Ready for bed now?”

You shooed his hand away. After a long moment of silence where you looked like you were thinking long and hard, you finally responded.

“Only if you stay.”

”I already said I would.”

You nodded and carefully slid off of him. He was surprised to miss the feeling of your body against his, the warmth your body left behind already leeching out of him.

He helped you settle into a comfortable position before leaning up to turn off the lamp on your bedside table. You were already staring at him when he looked back. You were beautiful.

He risked tucking a strand of hair behind your ears. His hand stopped where it was. Pointed ears. Even though he was Fae, he was also half Illyrian, which meant that his ears weren’t pointed. He still wasn’t used to the sight of them on you.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

He pulled his hand away quickly. “Just…observing.”

”Observing.” You paused. “Like what you see?” You wiggled your eyebrows teasingly.

He snorted. “Yeah, you’re definitely drunk.”

You giggled loudly, like you had no care in the world right now. He wished he could bottle that sound and replay it on loop. He longed for you to be this carefree all the time.

He ran his hand down your cheek. “Okay, giggles. Time for bed.”

You finally relented and snuggled up against him.

He pulled back. “Y/N—“

”Shush,” you said, pulling him back by the collar of his shirt.

He sighed and let you snuggle up to him. You were warm. He couldn’t help but admit that it felt nice to have you against him like this.

He closed his eyes, the bond satiated for now. He wasn’t going to think about how inappropriate this felt or how you’d probably freak out in the morning when you remember how you behaved tonight. He’d worry about that later.

He pulled his mate closer. For the first time in a long time, he felt like things were going to be okay.

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