#Azriel/Reader

[lalacliffthorne]

🖤 the fake dating scheme 🖤

Azriel x Reader

part I

summary: trying to convince your best friend you're not hopelessly in love by pretending you are in a relationshop? bad idea. panicking and kissing the first male in sight? terrible idea.

notes: new series? check. fake dating trope? check. (if you can guess which book this idea is based on, you'll get a kiss and a cookie)

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“Please?" Mor pouts before raising her brows and beaming softly. “I swear to you, I could find you someone – like this.” She snaps her fingers, and I sigh, feeling my lips quirk a little even as I struggle not to roll my eyes.

“I don’t want - someone.” Picking up my glass, I frown when I realise that it's empty.

Damn it.

It's Saturday night, and Rita's is vibrating with the thrum of laughter and music. It's the kind that sends warm shivers down your spine, sucking you in when you listen for too long. Fae are dancing, their bodies weaving and winding, laughing and shimmering in the lights.

I haven't been keeping count, but according to Mor, I have not been out with her and the others for over three moons now. In my eyes, it's no reason for an intervention, but Mor thought otherwise and showed up at my apartment unannounced, forcing me to dress up before dragging me out of the door.

Apparently, not having a very important mission the next morning meant I either went willingly or she'd get Cassian to show up on my doorstep and get me.

The thought makes me huff a soft smile, and my eyes flicker over the crowd. I clock Cass over at the bar, flirting with one of the bartenders. Neither Rhys nor Feyre are anywhere to be seen, having disappeared to do the Cauldron knows what, and Azriel –

My heart leaps a little, and I can’t stop my eyes from searching for a tall, lean figure, wings shrouded by shadows and dark, tousled hair -

Blinking and pulling myself together, I quickly drag my gaze away from the crowd - only to find Mor’s already on me.

My heart plummets a little.

The Blonde watches me, and slowly, a gentle crease appears between her brows. For a moment, she seems to hesitate. Then she squints lightly and calls over the noise: “Is it because of him?”

I barely keep myself from wincing.

“You know, I am still trying not to be insulted that you've never told me who it is.” One corner of Mor’s lips twitches in a soft laugh, but her eyes flicker over mine, careful, hesitant, and a little worried.

My heart swells and tightens at the same time.

She is too good. Worried instead of upset that her best friend, who fights her way through brawls and delivers threats with a cheeky smile, has been hopelessly pining after the same male for the better part of a century and refuses to tell her who it is.

But I can’t tell her.

I haven’t told anyone.

Because saying it out loud means admitting to it.

Admitting that I fell, like a fool. Headfirst. Crashed and burned for someone so entirely out of my league, it is almost ridiculous.

As long as I don't tell anyone, I can pretend that I haven't. That it's nothing but a silly infatuation that will eventually fade away.

I nearly grimace.

Hopefully.

Shaking myself out of my thoughts, I crunch my brows. "Don't worry, that - is all over."

Mor’s eyes flicker over my face, and she looks so obviously not convinced that something tightens in my chest.

“Really. It’s – I’m fine, I'm alright, I’m -”, the more I talk, the deeper the worried crease between Mor’s brows grows, and I feel my breath hitch.

And before I can stop myself, before I can think; just because I simply can't stand the way Mor is staring at me, like it causes her chest to ache knowing I'm in love with someone so hopelessly that I won't even tell her who it is - I blurt out the first thing appearing in my head capable of making that look disappear.

“I’m seeing someone.”

My heart leaps high, and I barely keep my eyes from widening.

Bollocks.

For a moment, Mor and I simply stare at each other, seemingly both in a comical way of neither us quite believing what has just come out of my mouth - though the reasons for that are very different. Then Mor blinks, and the corners of her lips slowly curve upwards into a giddy smile.

“What?”

“I,” I try to stop my eyes from growing even wider, “yes. I mean, it’s - casual, not serious, but -”

I blink again and swallow.

Mor begins to beam brightly.

I want to disappear under the table.

“Oh my Gods; is he here?”Her gaze darts towards the crowd like somehow, she can make out the nonexistent someone in the sea of Fae.

I barely keep myself from wincing.

“I – I don’t – I don’t actually know, but – I’m going to get myself another drink, do you want one –“ Pointing over my shoulder, I'm already sliding out of the booth, barely suppressing the urge to bolt like a deer and instead sending her what I hope is a cheeky smile instead of a terrified look.

Mor nods and beam, and I quickly turn around and feel my heart pang painfully against my ribs as i widen my eyes.

Oh Gods.

♡

My thoughts start racing as soon as I weave my way through the crowd.

What the hell was I thinking?

The little white lie that's meant to soothe Mor’s worries and keep her off my back is doomed to be very short lived, because – there is no one. I am not seeing anybody, because I – am awfully, stupidly in love with someone who is so incredibly out of my league it is almost funny.

I'm not quite sure when the spark has turned into something more. Something that makes my heart thrum at the smallest brush of rough calloused fingers.

I just know that for some cursed reason known only to the Mother herself, it was instant, the little hitch in my heart’s rhythm when Rhys introduced me to the male shrouded in shadows a little over a century ago.

My heart swells and tightens, and I inhale softly and sharply, trying to focus.

This is a disaster. What am I supposed to do now? Act like there is someone?

No, Mor would become suspicious quickly if I didn't actually have anyone to show for.

Make someone pretend with me?

I barely keep myself from snorting a giggle.

What a terrible idea. That would never work; I’ve read enough novels to know that something like that is bound to end in certain disaster.

My eyes flicker over the males scattered all over the wide room, one more exceptionally beautiful than the next, many looking at passing females in interest.

I slow, something churning in my chest as I crunch my nose and swallow.

On the other hand… I am at the one spot in the city where there are more males than I dare to count – given this circumstance, do I really have another choice?

I swallow slowly.

This is an awful idea.

A completely harebrained, ridiculous idea.

But even though I wreck my brain trying to come up with an alternative that is not telling Mor the truth – I can’t find one.

This is my only way out.

Unless I want to go and confess to Mor about my lie, inevitably leading to having to explain the why.

Yes, that is really not an option.

Which means – I have to pick someone. Randomly. And pray to the Mother and the Cauldron and anyone else who is willing to listen that that person won’t mind if I rope them into pretending to be my casual, not serious relationship for the night.

I feel my heart leap against my ribs.

This is by far the worst idea I’ve ever come up with.

Breathing out, I swallow before loosening my shoulders and starting to let my gaze quickly flicker over the crowd.

Alright.

How does one pick a pretend lover?

First step: Rule out those who are obviously taken. Then those which one's instincts mark as a clear No - either because they are staring at the passing females a little too intently, or because are very obviously not interested in females at all.

Which leaves me with quite a lot less options than I have expected.

I swallow harshly.

Gods, maybe there's somebody I vaguely know, who I can just walk up to and say Hello, I really need your help, I have been an idiot, please could you help me so my best friend stops looking at me like I’m causing her the greatest heartbreak in all of history -

My eyes flicker over a male in the crowd, and my heart skips softly, my thoughts stilling.

Because even though I’ve just caught a glimpse at him, looming in the shadows, hair dark and shoulders broad, towering over the crowd - it's enough to realise he seems familiar.

My heart leaps into my throat, and before I can think about it, stop myself with any rational thought, I start pushing forward.

Something begins to thrum against my ribs, stronger and harder with every quick step.

With dignity. Act like this is natural. Maybe hug him and hope he gets the point and plays along; do not loose your composure, do not do or say anything stupid or irrational or -

I catch a glimpse at blonde hair and red lips from the corner of my eye, and my heart jumps into my throat.

And before I can think, before I can hold myself back, my hand darts out to grab the male’s arm and tug him around – and again, the words simply tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them.

“I’m really, really sorry, but I need to kiss you,”, I whisper quickly, my hands slipping up over broad shoulders, and before I can stop myself, I pull the male down and stretch to press my lips onto his.

My breath catches.

Oh.

The male's lips are soft and cool. He tastes like ale and honey and something else, something that makes my fingers curl into his shoulders and my body shudder -

Hands, big and rough, close around my sides, just below my ribs, and my heart plummets as I ready myself to be pushed away.

But instead, they tighten. I can feel them flexing, their grip shifting. Then a low sound breaks from the male's throat, and he draws me closer, my chest pressing against his.

My breath hitches, and I slide my hands over his shoulders, bury my fingers in the soft hair at the back of his head, something swelling in my chest as I cling to him. He's tall, so tall he has to dip his head even though I am stretching to meet him. His body feels lean and steady and solid, easily holding up my weight -

Something cool brushes against my back; I suck in a soft breath, and a familiar scent rises into my nose.

My heart leaps painfully, and I still.

I know this scent.

My heart breath catches for another eason entirely, and I feel myself freeze.

Oh no.

Somehow, I manage to draw back, breaking the kiss, my heart pounding when I fall back onto my heels, forcing my eyes to open, my lips tingling and something rising into my throat -

Amber eyes clash with mine, and my eyes widen.

Oh. Shit.

Azriel's staring at me. Even in the dim lights, I can see how strangely hazy his eyes look, slightly unfocused as he blinks slowly. His cheeks seem almost a little flushed, and his lips are standing slightly agape as his throat moves in an absentminded swallow. He's still so close, his scent filling my lungs, his chest pressing against mine, his hands wrapped around my ribs -

The shadowsinger blinks again. Then he opens his mouth.

His impossibly deep voice brushes down my spine like a feather light touch, hoarse and strangely disoriented.

“Did you just kiss me?”

Staring up at him with wide eyes, I try to keep my breathing even, try to fight the rising panic in my chest.

“No…?”

Azriel’s grip shifts. I can see the moment the strange haze in his eyes begins to dissolve. His gaze becomes clearer as it pierces my face, and the muscles in his cheeks shift as I watch the traces of his usual scowl starting to form, the deep crease between his brows and the set in his jaw as shadows rise beyond his wings. His fingers dig into my ribs, and my heart rises into my throat.

Shit, shit, shit -

Quickly, before Azriel can commit murder in a public space or I can do another stupid thing, I slide my hand into his and slip past him, pushing into the crowd and pulling him with me.

If I'm lucky, Mor is watching and thinks we’re going somewhere private.

Which we are.

Only for very a different reason than what she might assume.

Azriel's long, calloused fingers tighten around mine, and I feel my heart swell and plummet at the same time.

Cauldron, he's going to kill me.

♡

Azriel lets me drag him with me until we reach a bench at the Sidra. Since he could just plant his feet and I would not be able to move him even if I threw my whole weight against him, I take it as a tentative sign that he isn’t too mad.

Or maybe he's simply still in shock and he's going to rip me to shreds the second he's recovered.

The river reflects the golden lights of the city and the galaxies high above, the crisp air clearing my head just far enough that when I slow down and turn around to face the shadowsinger, I feel the urge to just sink into the ground in mortification. Or drown myself in the Sidra. Or –

“I’m sorry,” I blurt, feeling my heart leap against my chest. “I am so sorry, I –“ My voice dies.

I have forgotten how tall he is. How much he towers over me, how small he can make me feel by simply dipping his head to look down at me, wings looming, shoulders shrouded in darkness.

His eyes are stormy as they pierce mine, dark and unreadable.

I realise I'm still holding his hand.

Quickly, I slip my fingers out of his, trying to ignore the way the cool air brushes against my skin where seconds before, his rough palm pressed against mine.

Azriel's fingers twitch, then they curl against his palm.

He's probably having to keep himself from strangling me now instead of after my explanation.

I swallow. Then I slowly step back and sink down onto the bench, rubbing my palms over my face.

Gods, this is a nightmare.

"I'm so sorry. You have every right to be mad at me. It was so stupid." I raise my head to look at him, and my heart leaps against my ribs in soft panic. "I didn't mean to, I swear, I just - panicked."

Azriel is still watching me, brows drawing together like a scowl is threatening to form on his face, eyes firmly locked onto mine, and I feel my breath hitch and blink. The pressure around my throat tightens, something in my chest squeezes painfully, and for the third time this night, simply driven by panic I blurt out without thinking: "Mor is onto me about me liking somebody."

Azriel stares at me. His shadows pull inward. A muscle in his jaw shifts, and I shrink a little.

Crap.

Quickly, I start talking.

"I know, that's - a ridiculous reason. But she knows, she knows that I've stupidly, ridiculously fallen, and she's worried, because I have never told her who it is, but I can't," I widen my eyes and raise my shoulders, "but she was trying to convince me to let her set me up, and when I wasn't responding the way she thought I would, she figured that it's because I am still hung up on that person, and while that's stupidly true, I also just really don't want her to set me up, I cannot handle that pressure, but she looked so heartbroken and I couldn't stand it, so I blurted out without thinking that I am seeing somebody, that I'm over -" My eyes meet amber ones, and my voice dies.

My heart leaps into my throat, and I blink, swallowing and mumbling: "Him."

Azriel's eyes pierce mine, deep, dark, unreadable.

I blink, raising my brows. "But I'm not. I mean, I'm not - seeing anybody, but I needed to convince her that I am, to make her stop looking at me like that." I feel my chest tighten as I raise my shoulders in a helpless shrug. "So I figured I would have to find somebody to help me pretend. And I thought I would pick someone I knew, because they were more likely to play along, but I couldn't find anyone." I blink. "Well, until I saw you." Quickly, I raise my brows. "Except I didn't even realise it was you, because it was dark and full and I was panicking, which is why I didn't just ask you like a sane person would do, but instead just -" Again, my voice dies, and I feel my shoulders sink in desperation when I mumble sheepishly: "Kissed you."

Azriel's jaw shifts, and his stormy eyes flicker over my face.

"I'm so sorry." I exhale and close my eyes, wincing. "I-I'll make it right. I swear. I'll explain to Mor what happened, that there's nothing going on between us, that it was just a stupid mistake." I swallow, rubbing my forehead.

For a moment, there's silence. The Sidra gently laps at the walls of the river bank, the soft waves of the river the only sound in the night. Then Azriel's low voice brushes over my skin, slow and calm.

"Or you don't."

I blink. Then I raise my head.

"What?"

Azriel watches me as he slowly crosses his arms, leaning back against the stone balustrade. His eyes are steady and unreadable. "You could let her believe that what she saw is true." His deep voice is low, rasping over my skin. "Make everyone believe it is."

Something swells in my chest until it feels a little hard to breathe.

With parted lips, I stare at Azriel.

"Why would you do that?" My voice is soft.

Azriel's eyes pierce mine. Then he blinks. "Cass and Rhys have been on me lately. About putting myself out there."

He looks so offended by the sentiment, a soft giggle bursts from my throat before I can stop it.

"Pretending this is real wouldn't just calm Mor, it would also get them off my back - at least for a good while until they have found some other project." Azriel's gaze flickers over mine, steady, calm.

Something starts thrumming against my ribs.

Azriel watches me, shadows curling around his shoulders. "You can say no."

My heart leaps against my ribs.

"No,", I blurt out hastily. Then I blink and hastily add: "I - I mean, yes. Not no. Yes, to that, not no -"

Azriel calls my name, and his deep voice makes me fall quiet with a sheepish wince.

For a second, I'm almost sure I can see the corner of his lips curve. His eyes flicker over my face. Then he lightly raises a brow.

I stare at him, my heart pounding against my ribs.

This is a terrible idea.

A hugely terrible idea.

Cause it's not just pretending to be in a relationship - it's pretending to be with the very male who is the reason I'm in this position in the first place. The one who manages to make my breath hitch with a glance, and my heart leap into my throat with nothing but the ghost of a touch.

It's a sure recipe for disaster, heartbreak and misery.

On the other hand…

What have you got to lose?, a quiet voice in my mind whispers. You've been in love with him for a century. It's not like you can end up having even more feelings for him. Maybe pretending to be with him is finally going to make you understand that it's never going to work. Maybe he's terrible to be with!

I almost huff.

Sure.

My heart squeezes gently.

But maybe this is exactly what I need to finally wake up and get over him.

I exhale and swallow. Then I raise my head. My eyes meet Azriel's, deep and dark and unreadable, and something flutters softly against my ribs.

Breathing out, I nod once. "Let's do it."

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers

@icey--stars @ailyr92 @xadenswhore

@azriels-mate2

[azsazz]

Growing Pains

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader

Summary: Anon Req: Will we ever get more info of how Az was during readers pregnancy with each baby(I really want to see his reaction when he found out you were having a girl for the first time),Just asking ;)))))

AKA: Snippets of Azriel's family growing.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 3117

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Wren:

“Azriel, I’m fine,” you insist, though your back aches as you try to pick up the kitchen towel that had accidentally fallen to the ground. You have no idea how you’re going to pick it up. You can’t bend over like you used to, not with your full, round belly in the way. “I still have an entire month, and then some.”

Rhys has decided to send your mate on a mission. He’d argued vehemently, asking the High Lord to send one of his spies instead, but Rhys had been adamant Azriel was the one to go. Why, you’re not sure. Azriel hasn’t divulged that information, not wanting to worry you.

What he doesn’t know is that it only worries you more.

“Love, you can’t even pick up the towel,” he argues, sliding around the counter to pluck it from the ground. You sigh, setting your hip on the counter, but it does little to ease your muscles. What you really want to do is sit down and not get up until the babe arrives.

“I don’t need to pick it up,” you argue. “I was just doing it to be nice since I know how tidy you like the house.”

Azriel raises a brow. “So you didn’t need it for anything?”

“No.”

“And what would you have done with it if I weren’t here?” he teases. “Left it on the floor?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I could’ve just gotten a new one from the linen closet.”

“That,” Azriel steps in front of you, swooping down to peck a soft kiss to your lips. You melt into him immediately, falling into his warm embrace. His hands come to the base of your spine to knead at the tight muscles there and you sigh in pleasure. Those shadows must have told him about your tender back. They can be useful, sometimes. “Sounds like it would’ve been a good idea.”

You hum in response, lost to your mate’s touch. He’s a godsend, this one. The cauldron picked perfectly. “I still don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know,” Azriel soothes. “It will make me feel better about leaving you though, love. I don’t want to worry about you while I’m gone.”

You don’t want that, either. Don’t want him distracted while he’s on a mission.

“Okay,” you give in when he kneads against a particularly tight knot in your spine. Gods, those hands…you could take him right to bed, maybe even convince your mate to give you a full body massage instead. Yes, that would be nice. “Cassian can stay.”

You refuse to move to the House of Wind. You’d rather be comfortable in your own home, especially since you’ve just begun nesting. Hence, the towel on the floor. Weirdly enough, you wanted that very piece for part of your nest because of all of the times you’ve seen it in Azriel’s hands, twisting it aimlessly between his fingers while conversing while he cooks, thrown over his shoulder while he slices and dices fruits and vegetables. Strange, but you haven’t stopped thinking about it since you felt the urge to collect objects from around your home to comfort yourself with.

So, if Azriel wants you to have a babysitter while he’s gone, the babysitter can join you here.

“Cassian’s going to have the best time rubbing my feet and making me breakfast,” you smile, thinking of all of the things you know you can get your mates best friend to do for you. You know he’ll do it without compliant, because he’s secretly trying to get you to name your first born after him.

Not happening.

“Give him hell, love.”

Basil:

“He wants cake, the baby wants cake,” you defend, stuffing another bite of cake into your mouth. “The baby wants the cake.”

Azriel huffs a laugh, more than amused at your sweet tooth during your second pregnancy. It’s been difficult to get you to eat anything that isn’t coated in chocolate or pumped full of sugar.

Wren, nearing a year old, giggles in his father’s lap. He reaches his hand across the table to your plate, eager to share in the sugary goodness. You lick the icing from your lips and scoot your plate closer to his grabby hands, more than happy to share your treat with your son.

You’re surprised your mate, who has an insane sweet tooth of his own, isn’t getting in on this cake. It’s delicious, the icing creamy and fluffy. The cake is moist, and the moan you let out when you bit into it was almost one you’d be embarrassed about, if you were paying attention to anything other than the dessert.

He’s been letting you eat your fill before even attempting a bite, more so because only a few weeks ago, he’d eaten the last macron, the one you’d been saving for a midnight snack. This babe did not want you to sleep, kicking and squirming inside of you nonstop, more than eager to meet the world. You’d burst into a fit of tears when you noticed your treat was gone, and couldn’t reign in your emotions until Azriel had come home with more than half of the pastries in the case from your favorite shop. Elain even threw in some of her freshly baked pastries after hearing what happened, and you almost lost yourself to another fit of tears at how nice that was of her.

“We’re supposed to be choosing a cake for Wren’s first birthday,” Azriel reminds you gently. Then, teasingly, he says, “Have you even actually tasted the cake with how quickly you’re eating, love?”

You peg him with a look, swallowing down the bite of cake in your mouth. He’s right, this is about Wren, not the baby inside of you who only seems to wiggle around more with a sugar high.

It’s difficult to place the fork down in front of you, but somehow, you manage. You turn toward your son, who hasn’t seemed to notice the way you’d been sampling all of the cakes in front of you. By sampling, you mean inhaling. You’d been inhaling the cake samples in front of you. All seven flavors.  

“Wrenny,” you ask the boy currently mashing a bite of cake onto a napkin. He’s enthralled in the texture, and doesn’t even notice your grimace at the ruined treat.

Azriel slips his hand into yours in comfort.

“What kind of cake do you want for your birthday, baby?” You ask, grabbing a fresh napkin to help him clean up. He protests with a shout, squirming on his father’s lap. Azriel tries his best to soothe the boy, but you’ve disturbed his playtime, and you’re going to pay.

“Come on, buddy,” Azriel smooths the furrow between Wren’s brows. You sit back in your seat, smoothing your hands across your stomach when your son kicks close to your bladder. It’s only a matter of time before he hits his mark, and then your day out at the Rainbow with your mate and son will be over. “Which one do you like best?”

Wren stares at the cakes. Some more gone than others. He reaches for a red cake that’s almost entirely full. You liked that one, but it wasn’t better than the chocolate slice with chocolate frosting. That one only has a small bite left.

Your son grabs a handful of the cake and flings his arms around in excitement. You plant a hand over your mouth as the cake goes flying, only to land in Azriel’s hair. Your shoulders shake with laugher, tears welling in your eyes at the look on your mates face.

Azriel’s grin is blinding. He laughs freely, something he might not have been comfortable doing in public years ago. This, this is all he’s ever wanted. You. A family. A life.

You help your mate rid the cake form his dark locks as much as you can. Frosting sticks to the strands, pulling them this way and that. You swipe at a glob of icing that made its way above his lip, and he stares at you with simmering eyes. The kind of eyes that got you into this situation in the first place. He’s going to need a shower when he gets home, and, if you can put Wren down for a nap, maybe you can join him, too.

When you’ve successfully cleaned as much of Azriel as you can, he plops your son down into your lap and shoves the pile of napkins closer to you before standing.

“Where are you going?” you ask as Wren reaches out for his father. You snag a napkin and his chubby arm, beginning to clean him up.

“I’m going to tip the staff for the mess we made,” he says easily. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and something more, something you can’t wait to get home to. “And I’m going to buy a chocolate cake to bring home with us, since you liked it so much.” He nods to the nearly gone slice on the table, and your heart swells in your chest. You love him so, so much.

Zuzu:

“It’s a girl?” he whispers, voice raw with emotion. Tears flood your eyes at the utter awe in your mate’s eyes. Of course, she has her father wrapped around her finger already.

Azriel places his hands across your stomach. He’s kneeling in front of you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so vulnerable, not even when he admitted he loved you for the first time, nor when you gave birth to your first and second child. But this little girl growing inside of you, she’s unlocked something special inside of Azriel, and you know that in this moment, that she’s going to have the most loving, protective father there is. And you’re sure her brothers won’t be far behind with that mentality.

She’s the first female born into one of the Inner Circle’s families. Four boys, but not a single girl. And now, everything has changed. You know she is going to be surrounded by so much love, she’s going to be so spoiled. You’ve had conversations with Feyre and Nesta, Elain too, about how cute the female toys and clothing were in the shops lining the Sidra. They all begged you to have a girl when you announced your third pregnancy, placing bets with their mates on whether or not you’d bring a little girl into the family, and their pleading has all paid off.

You can’t wait to tell them.

Azriel kisses across your stomach. You thread your fingers through his hair, allowing him this time with his daughter. It’s sweet, more than, to see him like this. He’s so in love with her already, you can see it in the way his wings wiggle with excitement, the way his thumbs stroke the soft skin where his daughter is growing inside of you.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers, finally raising his gaze to look at you. He doesn’t move away, instead resting his chin on your stomach. “We’re having a girl.”

You can’t help your smile, a tear escaping your eye. He’s wanted a daughter for just as long as you have, and you promised not to stop having children until you had a girl, but soon, with two boys and one girl, you don’t think you’ll stop until this little one has a sister to play with as well.

You can see the same sentiment in your mates eyes.

“We’re having a girl,” you agree, lifting his chin so you can kiss your mate.

Jax:

“Azriel,” you squeeze your eyes shut through the uncomfortableness of a contraction. Your mate’s hand is strong on your lower back, his other arm gripped tightly in your grasp. “I love you, but are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Easy,” Azriel replies gently. His touch is soft but firm as he helps you to your bed. It’s set up with all of the essentials for giving birth, and with this being your fourth child, you’re more than prepared. The little one has been a fairly easy pregnancy, as if each moment spent in your womb was better than the last. He wasn’t eager to meet the world like his older brother, Baz, who kicked you relentlessly for nine months straight. It was almost as if the babe inside of you enjoyed the comfort you provided, but his father and siblings are more than excited to meet the new member of the family.

Your water broke this morning over breakfast with your family. Baz had burst into a fit of giggles over his waffles, pointing and shouting about how you’d peed your pants. Wren, your oldest, perked with excitement, knowing exactly what that meant. He’s slipped from his chair, offering you a tight hug before scampering to his room with his little brother in tow, talking all about how they were going to get to see their cousins while you had another baby.

Zuzu, just one, was covered in whipped cream, giggling and gurgling and making a mess with the sweet cream. You had torn Azriel’s attention from where he bopped a bit of cream onto her nose, and, after a quick once-over, worry lacing his hazel eyes, his face melted into something sweet when he caught your smile, the happy tears in your eyes.

Your son couldn’t choose a more perfect day to enter the world.

“What do you mean?” Azriel asks, pulling back the covers. He’d be latched to your side until the babe entered the world, whenever that may be. Could be nearly an entire day, like Wren, or mere hours, like Baz and Zuzu.

“You’re talking about letting the male who gifted Baz a real blade for Starfall when he was only 3, watch our boys for the night.” You had agreed to the plan at first because you didn’t think Cassian was all that serious about it, but now that it’s really happening, you can’t help but worry.

“Cassian wants this more than anything, love,” Az replies, helping organize the pillows behind your back. When all is to his liking, he sits on the edge of the bed, caressing your face. His hazel eyes are soft, a comfort that you lean into, or as much as you can with your belly in the way. “He’ll be fine. Rhys and Nyx are going to be there too,” he reassures. And well, that doesn’t make you feel that much better. Rhys and Cassian and four children under 6. They’re in for a night. “And Zuz is getting all loved up by her aunties tonight.” Your daughter is spending the night at Feyre’s with her sisters, and you know that if anything, Rhys will have no problem calling in backup for the mischievous little boys.

“You’ll check in on them ever hour?” You ask, trying your best to get comfortable. The babe in your stomach gives a little kick, and you place your hand on your stomach, whispering down to him. “Soon, little guy, soon you’ll meet the world.”

“I’ll check on them every ten minutes if you want me to,” Azriel promises, placing his large hand over yours. Like the babe knows you and your mate are showing him affection, he kicks again. “But I don’t want you to worry. You need to focus on getting little Jax out.” He says the babes name like it’s the best he’s ever heard. He’s done that with all of your children, though. It fills you with warmth, his strong presence eases you into the comfort of your bed.

Malos and Knox:

“A sister!” Zuzu screeches in her uncle’s arms. You wince at the sheer volume of your four-year-old daughter, but you won’t scold her even through one of the hours old newborns in your arms squirms at the sound. She can’t help her excitement at the sight of her little sister, kicking out her tiny legs in demand to be released from Rhys’ clutches. He laughs and tries to situate Zuzu better in his arms. He looks to you for action, and with a soft nod of your head, he lets your daughter down.

Azriel, who has just handed Knox off to Feyre, who has tears in her eyes, quickly catches his oldest daughter around the waist before she can launch herself onto your bed and disturb the snoozing babe.

“Daddy,” Zuzu whines, but clings tightly to his shirt. Azriel immediately smooths her hair back from her face, disheveled from playing with her brothers all morning at her uncle’s house while you gave birth to the two newest members of your family. “I want to see my sissy!”

“Sissy’s sleeping,” he parent’s gently, bringing her closer. He sets Zuzu on the bed but stays close. “You need to be gentle, Zuz. She’s brand new.”

“Brand new,” Zuzu echoes, but you’re not entirely sure she knows what it means. She’s completely distracted by the small bundle in your arms anyway, her dark eyes glowing with delight. She looks up at you, wide-eyed, and you can’t help but smile at your daughter. “She’s mine?”

“She’s your sister,” you laugh softly. You position Malos in your arms so Zuzu can see better.

“Wow,” she whispers, awe in her tone. She softly reaches out and brushes a finger across her sister’s chubby cheeks. The babe makes a noise and Zuzu snatches her hand back to her chest.

“It’s okay, Zuz,” Azriel says gently. “She’s just saying hello.”

Zuzu nods at her father eagerly, then returns her attention to Malos. “Hello, little baby. I’m Zuz. I’m going to be the bestest big sister ever! I’m going to teach you so much, and nothing like our naughty brothers can show you…” She babbles while you share a loving look with your mate.

You were worried how Zuzu might react to a sister. She’s been surrounded by boys for four years, and right now, you can see that this is something special, something pure between the two girls.

“What are their names?” Feyre asks, placing Knox carefully in your arms while your sons join you and the rest of your family on the bed. Jax climbs directly into Azriel’s lap, clinging to him like a monkey. He peers down at the babes in your arms with curiosity.

Wren and Baz settle on your other side, leaning over to see both of the babes. They look just as excited as the rest of your family, and this moment right now, surrounded by your family and the people you love the most, makes everything worthwhile.

You smile at your mate, who gives you a soft nod of encouragement.

“Their names are Malos and Knox.”

[azrielhours]

Tight Enough

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: Reader needs help tightening her corset and no one's around to help but Azriel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Shit,” you breathed, pulling at the laces awkwardly around your waist, trying and failing to tighten your corset. You shifted them around your shoulders, hoping it’d provide sufficient pulleying. You bowed forward, yanking.

Still not enough.

You huffed. You’d been at this for upwards of twenty minutes, hauling and tugging in all kinds of positions til your hands shook.

For all the gentlemanliness and compassion in Rhys and Cassian, you entirely refused to ask mated men to assist you.

Tying the laces onto the doorknob, you tried letting your body fall in the opposite direction. Your feet slid against the tile as you pivoted, nearly tripping. “Shit.” 

This was so fucked.

A gentle knock on the door startled you. “Y/N?”

Azriel.

Fuck.

You scrambled to untie the laces from the doorknob. “Yes?”

“Cass and Rhys stepped out for a bit. Are you alright?”

Fuck.

You scrubbed at your face. This was the outcome you’d been avoiding above all. Worse than the mated men. Mated my ass. You should’ve bit your tongue and asked Cass for help.

“Y/N?” he asked again at your silence.

“Sorry,” you breathed, heart racing.

You cracked open the bathroom door, peering up at him. He searched your eyes patiently as you searched for your courage. “I can’t get my corset on,” you admitted quietly.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, eyes marginally widening.

You shook your head. “It’s fine,” you said quickly, voice tight. “I’ll just—I’ll try—”

“I can help,” he offered softly.

You looked up at him again, eyes pleading. Turn him down. “I—” you swallowed. Turn him down. A glance at the wall behind him with a clock revealed you were even later than you thought. Turn him down. You bit your lip and steeled your spine. Fuck. You were really doing this. “Okay,” you whispered, like you could hide the admission from even yourself.

He gave a slight nod of encouragement, stepping aside to let you come out.

“I—let me—one second,” you stammered, closing the door.

You were still undressed.

Right.

Another huff of indignation as you yanked on a slip to cover your bare legs. This was fine, right? It was just help he was offering. Necessary help.

You took a steadying breath and walked out of the bathroom.

Azriel had moved to stand near the fireplace, watching it with his back to you, like it would offer you privacy. He could surely see your panicked mortification.

You padded to him, placing a hand softly on his elbow to let him know you were ready.

He turned, face carefully neutral as he took in the sight of you.

Where corsets were typically worn over shifts, this one was fashioned to sit directly upon your skin. So you stood before Azriel, flushed cheeks and fidgeting fingers in just your corset and a skirt.

Azriel focused his gaze strictly on your face, didn’t dare let it fall to where the flesh of your breasts generously spilled over the delicate lace trim adorning the hem. Didn’t allow a glance at the thin shift mercifully—barely—covering your legs.

He’d never seen you so undressed.

You shifted your weight between feet beneath his hefty gaze. “Usually, Nuala or Ceridwen or Mor help me,” your voice was still tight. “I’ve never had to do it by myself.”

Azriel nodded. Your skin had a slight sheen to it in the light of the fire. A few pieces of hair had fallen out of your intricate upswept style, curling at the nape of your neck. Azriel might have bitten back a laugh at the endearing sight, at the physical evidence of your struggle—had you not struck him dumb with how beautiful you looked.

How you allowed him to bear witness to your exposed skin, to this intimacy.

He was no stranger to corsets—hell, he’d taken women wearing lingerie that made your attire look like a priestess’s robe, and yet—

He shook his head. This was just help. No matter how lovely you were.

He cleared his throat. He needed you to turn. “Would you—” He twisted a finger in the air, unsure how to ask.

“Oh,” you breathed, still donning that pretty blush on your cheeks. You took another step toward him, turning at last.

With the absence of your imploring gaze—one he’d scarcely forget—Azriel exhaled, allowed himself an assessing glimpse down your form presented before him. He bit back a curse. The laces across the length of the corset were haphazardly pulled. He wondered how Rhys overlooked something like this that clearly required assistance. The spaces between the undone laces revealed your bare back, curving all the way down to the slip resting on your backside.

He didn’t know how to begin touching you.

“Az?” you asked, voice still thin, your nervousness anything but subtle. But you’d been comfortable enough to ask him for help, and that made his heart soar.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat again. Raised his hands hesitantly; a silent deep breath, and he began.

He carefully pulled at the laces starting from the top of your corset, loosening them to correctly adjust their security. Azriel keenly tried his best to pick up each lace without touching your skin. Tried not to consider how creamy it felt when he did graze skin, how warm and perfect. When he’d finished working his way down, he began tugging at the string to tighten it properly.

At the first firm tug, you gasped, stumbling backwards into him. “Oh,” you stepped away hastily. You’d landed directly onto his abdomen, trapping his hands between your bodies. Your own hands had landed on his thighs, bracing yourself. “I’m sorry, Azriel.”

“It’s alright.” Azriel tried not to think about how your softness felt. “It’s my fault.” He couldn’t recall the last time he’d helped a female with her corset.

You looked at him over your shoulder, doing funny things to his heart again with your eyes. “We need a bedpost.” There was sheepish mirth lighting your eyes, displacing the anxiety from before. He managed a reassuring smile back and nodded.

You walked to Cassian’s bed in the inn room you were sharing, gripping the post for stability. Azriel dutifully returned to your back, and you tried not to think about how the warmth from his body radiated so easily into yours from your proximity. How careful he was being with his hands, doing everything to make you more comfortable.

He yanked gently in warning. When you remained sturdily in your spot, his pulling grew stronger, working his way down. When he neared the base of your spine, he began tying the lace. Your hands moved to your waist, feeling snug but not quite as tight-laced as you’d wanted.

You turned to peer at him over your shoulder again. He met your eye in question. “Um, I was hoping to wear it a little tighter,” you admitted.

“Tighter than this?” His brows rose.

You nodded.

He undid the knot, pulling the laces tighter as per your request, waiting for approval.

Once again, you caressed your waist, pushing the corset to feel its give.

“Is it tight enough?” he asked, voice gravely.

“Can I have one more inch?” you asked, and he internally composed himself.

“I don’t know if it would work,” he said.

“Here,” you released your waist, reaching behind, wiggling your fingers for his hands. Azriel extended his hands to hover on either side of your waist, allowing you to guide them on your waist. You pushed onto his hands, making him squeeze your waist. “Can you hold it there?” you asked.

Azriel swallowed, holding your waist tightly, pressing the corset tighter to your body as you reached behind, pulling the untied lace. He tracked your every move, every careful twist of your fingers, how your arms brushed against his hands. Your hands worked dangerously close to his body as you worked to secure the ties at last.

When you finished, he regretfully released you, allowing you to turn, standing between him and the bedpost. He braced himself for the onslaught of your stare, the way he knew you’d look up at him.

Where there’d previously been jittery nervousness, there was something in your eyes now that set his nervousness off. A sense of open depth that swallowed him whole as you took him in. “Thank you,” you breathed. A small smile tugged your lips up.

He wanted to admit something stupidly vulnerable, like thank you for trusting me. So instead, he took a step back, ducked his head, and said, “You’re welcome.”

That pretty, trustful look returned to your eyes, a look he’d do anything to keep others from seeing. “Maybe you can help me zip up my dress too?” Your playful glint had him smiling back.

“Of course.”

You hurried to the bathroom and rustled for a bit before returning to him with the top half of a floor-length, black evening gown hanging off your torso. You stood before him, more confidently than before, and Azriel took his time zipping it up, tucking away the corset. Tucking away the knowledge, the memory of it. It was all his to cherish.

As you put your heels on, a knock sounded on the door. Azriel opened it to find Rhys and Cassian conveniently ready to go, all smug smirks.

“Sorry for making us late,” you said, rushing up behind Azriel. “I had a hard time getting dressed.” Azriel stepped aside, allowing you to exit, taking Cassian’s arm.

Rhys mockingly tsked. “Sorry to hear that. How’d you manage?”

“Azriel helped,” you said over your shoulder.

“Well, thank goodness for Azriel,” Rhys winked at him.

Azriel stood stunned, staring in disbelief at Rhys until you looked back at him blushing, a shy smile knocking the breath from his lungs.

“Yes. Thank goodness for Azriel.”

~

taglist: @iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswifezz222 @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria

(lmk if your urls changed, sorry some of them don't work!)

[illyrianbitch]

Death and His Reaper

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: After suffering a devastating injury in battle, Azriel finds himself on the brink of life and death where he meets you, The Mother's reaper.

Warnings: angsty fluff?, brief mentions of battle and injury, lil convos about life and its meaning, Azriel without his shadows, lowk love at first sight

Word Count: 13k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

 Azriel could feel the hot, metallic taste of blood filling his mouth, the sharp sting of pain shooting through his body with each ragged breath. A pounding, almost unbearable, pain in his head consumed him, a relentless throb that pulsed with every beat of his heart– each pulse sending waves of nausea washing over him. He tried to move, to shift away from the agony, but his limbs felt like stone, heavy and unresponsive. His muscles screamed in protest with every attempt to shift position, every movement met with waves of agony that radiated through his battered form.

Dark spots filled his vision as the ringing in his ears grew louder. Everything was fuzzy, hazy, blurs of movement and moving color. Azriel could hear sounds around him. Loud sounds, piercing sounds. Distantly, he could make out what he assumed were screams. He wasn’t sure though, and wasn't able to think about it too hard. His shadows were whispering to him, louder and louder, but he couldn’t hear them. The sound rattled in his brain as he blinked. Once. Twice. His vision became more unfocussed.

With a final, shuddering breath, the world dissolved into darkness. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

There was a humming in his ear when Azriel came to, a light vibration he wasn’t familiar with. The ache in his body grew duller with every blink— his eyelids still heavy with pain, or exhaustion, he wasn’t quite sure. One of the same, he guessed. He let a moment pass, taking deep breaths as he oriented himself. He laid in a bed, soft white sheets placed upon him gingerly. Had Feyre tucked him in? He thought for a moment. Why would Feyre tuck him in? 

Another moment passed. Azriel became aware of his clothing, his body still strapped in his illyrian leathers— leathers that were eerily clean. No smudges, no stains. Pushing himself upright, Azriel glanced around the room, his movements slow and unsteady. There was no one else in sight, no familiar faces to provide him with answers. He frowned, his brows knitting together in a puzzled expression. With a hesitant sigh, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, his muscles protesting at the sudden movement. He wavered for a moment, grasping for balance, before taking a cautious step forward. 

He casted a casual glance towards the bed, rubbing his hands across his face in exhaustion as made a move towards the door, his thoughts scattered and disjointed. But then he stilled, his head quickly snapping back. Instead of an empty bed, Azriel's gaze fell upon his own body, lying prone and unmoving— paled, almost colorless, wings hanging limply at his sides. He blinked, a flicker of confusion and fear knitting his brows as he registered the scene before him. 

“Quite strange, isn’t it?”

Azriel whipped his head around, his hand instinctively reaching for a dagger at his hip that he failed to find. His wings flared out angrily, fully extended with curled ends, each single claw at the apex poised and ready to strike. His eyes were wide as they focused on you. 

You let out a quiet laugh, a gentle sound that caressed him like a comforting hand. He felt himself falter, a sense of confusion washing over him. Yet, within that confusion was a warmth that spread through him at your presence, at your voice— soft, like a faint ray of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud.

He fought the sudden urge to stand down, an odd sense of safety wrapping around him, unnerving him with the ease in which it filled him. He struggled back, pushing the feeling away. Stay guarded, stay ready, you are a threat. Yet even in his attempts, he recognized a slight release in the tension surrounding his shoulders, a small release in the stance of his wings– decisions he hadn’t consciously made. With his eyes still trained on you, his hand searched the side of his thigh, his hip, the backside of his waistband. He patted frantically, fingers itching to find a form of protection. When his search came up empty once more, he settled for holding his other hand out towards you in warning, his palm facing you as his body fell into a defensive stance. The blue siphon on his hand glowed aggressively. 

The corners of your mouth tilted into a small smile.  “You do that everytime.”

Azriel didn’t return the gesture. Instead, he narrowed his eyes as he properly took you in. He scanned your body; the way you stood comfortably in front of him, your hands clasped together, placed delicately in front of your waist. It almost hurt to look at you, he observed. He had to squint to make out your features. And when he did, he was hit with one thought: you were beautiful. 

He cursed himself for recognizing it, for letting the thought echo in his head. You were a threat, he reminded himself, a stranger in his home. He was confused, disoriented, and yet you stood in front of him, presence dripping in a calm ease. You stared at him with a look he couldn’t discern, not when his mind was a muddled, confused, blurry mess. But the way you were looking, so expectant, so patient– it made him slightly nauseated. 

 “Who are you?” Azriel’s voice was loud and rough. He felt his heart pounding in his chest, a twitch in his wings, still extended wide. “What the hell are you talking about?”  

Azriel scrambled for words, his head aching as he searched it for answers, for explanations. His confusion exposed him in a way that made him feel naked— at risk.  None of it was right, not him standing over his own body, not him conversing with, what might possibly be, the most gorgeous female he’d ever seen, not the empty room around him. Was he dreaming? Was he being tortured?

You slowly lifted your hands in defense, remaining careful of how fast your movements were. “I’m not here to cause you any harm.”

A skeptical expression crossed his face. “Then why are you here?” He eyed you intently, his gaze scanning you as if sizing up a potential threat. His outstretched hand stayed unmoving, still on the defense. But you recognized a subtle shift in his posture, a slight calm flickering in his moving eyes.

Azriel was always the more difficult of the three to soothe. You had noticed this the last time, his wings shredded with ash arrows, his blood coating the floors beneath him. Even then, even through the exhaustion that bled into his unconscious mind– into his soul– he had fought you, acknowledged you with apprehension and distrust. You never blamed him, though. You understood. You would be fearful, confused, and defensive, too. 

“I’m here to help you.” 

Your voice was lower now than it was before. A soft murmur. He recognized the cadence, the words. It felt like a voice he’d heard before but couldn’t quite place. 

"Who are you?" Azriel demanded as he frantically looked between his own body and you. He felt a sense of fear he wasn't accustomed to, a worry that either body would vanish were he to take his eyes away for too long. "What the hell is going on?"

You took a step forward as he turned to look upon his body, reaching an arm out to touch him, to begin to explain, when his head swiftly turned back to you. Azriel recoiled, taking a step away from you, his eyes scanning you again— wide and wild. There was a rustle as his wings mirrored his actions, still extended aggressively, unmoving. You quickly stilled, realizing your mistake of initiating contact too soon. Your brows furrowed as you gave him an apologetic smile. You took a step back, settling to stand a bit further from him than you were before. 

Hazel eyes watched your every movement, his body tense as you fixed yourself into place, standing in front of him with the small smile still on your face– it reeked of pity, he thought. It didn’t feel right. No matter where he was, or who you were, he wasn’t supposed to be this off guard, this jumpy. 

His face fell as the realization hit him: he couldn't feel them. His companions, his protectors, his shadows– there were no whisperings in his ear, no cool trail as they snaked around his body. He hadn’t noticed before, too distracted by you, by his lifeless form. The absence of his shadows explained this sudden vulnerability– he was receiving no information on you. No intel about who you were, what weapons you may have, who was around to witness. As quick as the realization settled into his stomach, Azriel called out to them. He dropped one of his hands lower as if to make it easier for them to find him, to reach him, but nothing came. No cool touch on his body, no whispers. Instead, silence enveloped him as he took notice of motion around him, black wisps of smoke scattered throughout the room. 

You watched his movements, watched as he examined himself, as he craned his head to scan his body. "They can sense you," you explained, gesturing towards the shadows that seemed to be bouncing around, slithering on the ground like they were blind and confused. Some rested on his unmoving body, some around his feet, but not quite on him. His wings began to retract and slump as Azriel’s face slightly fell, his mouth open and brows furrowed. 

He looked down, observing his hands tentatively. “Why aren’t they with me?” Azriel asked. His voice was slightly strained. He didn’t look up at you, his vision trained to his scarred hands, to the floor below him where shadows circled aimlessly. He felt an ache in his heart,  a longing to be covered again, to be with them, to be protected. He felt too naked, stripped of every layer that protected him— no shadows, no intel, bare before you.

“Your shadows are sentient,” you explained, “they don’t die with you.”

His head snapped up, hazel eyes meeting yours instantly, widened with disbelief. "Die?" he repeated, his eyes scanning yours. "What do you mean die?"

In a slight moment of shock, Azriel took an unconscious step forward. His body tensed, and you watched as the rest of his frame followed suit, the muscles in his jaw clenching. There was an evident unease in his face, tension etched into his features.

You maintained a stillness, a deliberate choice not to intrude further, to remain respectful of his boundaries. Your gaze held a mixture of understanding and patience, offering him a moment to process the information without feeling overwhelmed. Then, you softly asked, “Where do you think you are, Azriel?”

His name sounded foreign on your tongue but he didn’t have the space to acknowledge it, instead rummaging through his other thoughts. He blinked, taking in your question.  A dull ache in his head creeped up on him, but your voice soothed it instantly— soft, comforting. 

"I... I don't know," he stammered, voice low and quiet, void of any assertion it held moments prior. His eyes darted back and forth, attempting to piece together fragments of memory. His wings now mirrored his defeated state–  limp and listless, curled in, the membrane hanging dejectedly.

Sensing his growing distress, you adjusted your approach. "What is the last thing you remember?" 

Your voice, smooth like honey and warm like tea, flowed through him. For a moment, he allowed it to sit, allowed it to spread, letting it calm him in a way that he was fighting before.  

"I…" Azriel muttered to himself. Slowly, fragments of memory began to resurface, faint but discernible. He looked back at his body, examining it as if trying to find the missing pieces, memories popping up like distant echoes, flashing in the corners of his brain. The ache was back, slowly spreading throughout his head. “I was fighting.”

He looked back over his shoulder, twisting his body to peer at where his physical body lay in the bed, the colors of the room now registering with a strange clarity. Tandem disembodied flashbacks surged through his mind—flashes of fighting, the metallic taste of blood on his tongue, and the cacophony of clashing weapons. Each image hit him like a sudden jolt, disjointed and chaotic.

In one fragment, he could almost feel the weight of a blade in his hand, the strain of muscles as he swung it in a frenzied dance. Another flash brought back the distant echoes of shouted commands, the clash of metal on metal, and the acrid scent of sweat and blood lingering in the air. The blurry memories continued, each scene disconnected yet vivid in its brutality. He shivered as the ghost of each sensation trailed his body, a twitch in his wings as he recalled the injuries they had sustained. 

Then, a searing pain in his head, a sharp and sudden ache that brought him to his knees in his mind's eye. The pain lingered in his skull like a phantom sensation, and with it, a realization began to form. His eyes met yours with a cold, distant understanding. A wave of sadness hit you. 

"I'm dead,” he stated, his voice quiet, “Aren't I?"

A sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of your lips. "Not yet," you clarified, taking a step to move closer, the movement slow and deliberate. "You're in between."

"In between? In between where?"

You took a moment to look at him, your gaze lingering on his face. His eyes were darker now, troubled, as he stared back at you. “Your body,” You started, gesturing towards his sleeping form to guide his attention back to where it lay, “It's still fighting.”

Azriel nodded slowly, taking in each of your words, digesting them, letting them sit. There was a shift in his expression—a solemn understanding replacing the earlier confusion he once held. You continued. 

 "Madja, she's a brilliant healer. She has brought back many from this same brink."  

When Azriel looked back at you, you shifted your focus to his head, motioning with a gentle sweep of your hand, then directed your fingers towards your own temple. "And your mind," You said, "it's fighting too." 

Azriel frowned. He was a soldier. He sustained many injuries before, had fought in battles that left him with gaping wounds, with his organs rearranged. This was nothing new— so why was this different? Had he always been out this long? 

You watched him intently, observing the way his thoughts seemed to churn beneath the surface, how he began to blink rapidly, how his brow furrowed. He was still confused– you could feel it. You let out a small sigh, running your eyes across his face. 

"The injury you sustained was worse than any you've ever had," you explained, your voice steady. Flashes of his memories interjected—him fighting, soaring into the air only to be shot down, engaging in combat once again, his head colliding with something hard, the sickening sound of a crunch. "Not only to your body but to your head. You cracked your skull open completely, Azriel. The trauma of the infliction itself… well, let's say it damaged your brain. Heavily."

As Azriel looked directly at you, his hazel eyes glazed over with deep contemplation. He nodded absentmindedly, "Okay.” He said. He looked over to his unmoving form again. 

With his attention fixated on his proper body, you took the time to observe him more closely, scanning his face and his body, taking in the details of his fighting leathers. Azriel was a vision— your favorite male to visit, your favorite soul to see. You can’t remember the first time you saw him, the first time he laid on a bed, a grasp away from death. You suppose it was centuries ago, when he first became a soldier. But even then, time escaped you. 

Your gaze wandered to the wings adorning his back, now freed from their earlier alarmed nature, not fully extended but not fully kept back. You thought back to their wide and impressive extended form, the membrane between each robust wing bearing a faint sheen, casting a subtle shimmer in the ambient light. Even now they were mesmerizing–  the leathery texture, the powerful structure, the way they naturally framed his form. The tips of the expansive wings curved slightly, giving Azriel an imposing yet graceful appearance, even among current circumstances. Azriel's voice brought you back to attention. 

"So I'm stuck here?" 

"For now."  You responded, your voice carrying a gentle reassurance. The look on his face, only beginning to finally process his reality, pushed you to postpone any further explanations. Time was not an issue, not now. 

"And you are..." Azriel's voice trailed off.

"Y/n," you answered. 

He let the name sink in, repeating it with a slow, deliberate pace, "Y/n." 

“Yes.” You nodded.

“And you’re here to help me.”

Another nod. “Yes.”

He rolled his shoulders as something that resembled a skeptical scowl slowly made its way through his face. Then, Azriel squinted his eyes at you.  “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

You couldn't help it—a small laugh escaped you, echoing softly in the room. The sound made Azriel jolt back slightly, caught off guard. Dying it down with a small, genuine smile on your face, you caught Azriel’s uncomfortable gaze, his wings now extended slightly, the corners of his lips downturned in confusion.

"I’m- I’m sorry,” You said, clearing your throat. “It's just... you are curious this time around.” 

Azriel's hazel eyes widened in shock, his brows furrowing in confusion. "This– this time around?” His eyes rapidly scanned your face with a deep intensity. Faintly, he recalled your earlier comment, the laugh when you said that he reacted the same way every time. “Have we met before?"

You offered him a small smile as you said, "Many times.”

Azriel let out a deep breath. Here he stood, suspended between life and something else entirely, facing someone who knew him in a way that he couldn’t even remember. A sense of anxiety filled his chest. He wished for his shadows now, for them to wrap themselves around his arms, around his neck, to offer some calm. He searched you for any sign of deception, looked at the way your eyes followed him, the stance that you held. But all he found was a sense of sincerity and tenderness. 

“Your family tends to face death a lot more than others in Prythian,” you explained, “You and your brothers especially." 

At the mention of his brothers, Azriel's heart dropped, a heaviness settling in his chest. Thoughts of his family rushed in—wondering who had found him, the worry that surely gripped them. He straightened up, a sense of urgency urging him to survey his surroundings. His family… His gaze moved beyond you, taking in the details of the room. It was his guest suite in the River House, the room he’d stay in when he came to visit Rhysand and Feyre, the room they would drag him into when he needed to rest or heal. It was his room. Yet, there were no sounds of people, no familiar voices—just the quiet emptiness that surrounded him, surrounded you both. Surely they would be near him, Azriel thought, Madja at the least.

"Where is everyone?" He asked, still scanning the room. He walked towards the large windows, taking in the nighttime view, gorgeous and still— mountains covered in snow, a city lit by moonlight. 

“Here, it's just you," you said gently.

Azriel turned to face you once more, a flicker of sadness crossing his features. He didn’t ask for any further explanation, a sense of exhaustion heavily weighing on him. His eyes bore into yours. "And you. You exist here too.” 

“I do.”

He took a step towards you, wings rustling in their position behind his back. Azriel scanned your face, hazel eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and weariness. He wasn’t afraid of you, didn’t believe you were a threat– not anymore, at least. But you were still here, in this state of existence that only he was in. 

“Why?”

The question was pure curiosity, not a hint of distrust or malice within it. You observed him, noting how he seemed to have settled, the tension in his frame easing. Instead, a subtle sadness lingered, a reflection of longing. Azriel loved his family, this much you knew. He was a devoted male, devoted to serving those he loved, devoted to his position, to his duties. Of course he was missing his family. Your heart ached. 

"I'm here to help," you assured, "I’m to stay while you heal, or until–"

“Until I stop…” Azriel finished the sentence, a quiet acceptance in his voice. "And then you guide me."

You were taken aback as Azriel's hazel eyes locked onto yours, a moment of realization passing between you. Usually, it was you who revealed your purpose to those you reaped, explaining the meaning of your duties, easing their worries. You blinked, your head tilting back slightly as you clasped your hands together. Azriel continued, stating with a quiet certainty, "You're a reaper."

You nodded, titling your head as you took in his face, his brows slightly knitted. “I am.” 

You weren’t supposed to be doing this. In situations like these, where they were stuck between the life before and the life after, you were to leave them in peace– wait until they decided or their body decided for them. It was never intended for you to stay with them during the waiting period, to keep them company. No, this was something you felt inclined to do. You couldn’t leave Azriel if you wanted to, it felt wrong— and you didn’t want to. Not one bit. 

"You weren't what I expected," Azriel admitted.

Azriel had a faint idea of your kind, of your duties. He heard accounts of near-death experiences, tales of encountering a radiant light, foggy memories and beliefs of meeting a beautiful entity—whatever that meant. He always wrote them off as distant narratives, existing in the realms of folklore and imagination. He would have never imagined something like you – something so… delicate. 

Curiosity lingered in your gaze as you asked, "What did you expect?" 

"I don't know," Azriel replied honestly, his head beginning to throb and ache again. A hand instinctively rose to the back of his scalp, fingers rubbing at the tension that surfaced. The ache radiated through his skull as he massaged his hairline. You recognized the discomfort with a small frown, playing with your hands as you observed him for a moment. 

 "Azriel,” You spoke, drawing his attention back to you, “I'm going to give you some time to process everything. Explore, think. When you're ready, and if you want to, you can find me then."

Azriel looked at you, uncertainty drawn across his features. "How will I know where you are?”

"You’ll know.” A soft smile played on your lips as you reassured him. “Trust me.”

As you left, Azriel took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting the quiet expanse embrace him.  

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

You were right. Azriel knew exactly where to find you. How we knew, he didn’t know. He wasn’t even aware of how he got to you, how he managed to move. One moment he was wandering, taking in the quiet halls of the house, the next he was thinking of you, seeking you out— and then he was here, watching you. 

It was dark out still, a fresh night breeze in the air. Azriel stood for a moment, taking in his surroundings—a small clearing nestled between two towering mountains covered in snow. The landscape was rugged, the terrain too harsh to be in the vicinity of Velaris. Somewhere beyond the borders of Illyria, he concluded. He turned his focus back to you. Draped in a simple cream-colored dress, you stood at the edge of the clearing, your silhouette softly illuminated by the glow of the full moon that hung in the sky. The moonlight painted the terrain around you with a soft, silvery hue, casting long shadows that danced across the uneven ground. 

“Hi, Azriel.” The words left your mouth before you turned your head to look at him. When your eyes met his, you gave him a smile. He faltered for a moment.

“Hello… Y/n.” He said your name quietly, adding it onto his greeting tentatively, as if he was testing how it felt on his tongue. He liked it, he decided. It tasted sweet. 

You turned your head back to the view in front of you, and Azriel took it as an unspoken invitation. Slowly, he found himself walking towards you, the snow crunching beneath his boots. You both stood in silence, and Azriel found a sense of calm rolling through him. Taking a deep breath, he let his wings unfurl slightly, not having noticed the tension they had been carrying, tucked tightly behind him.

Azriel turned to gaze at you. You stood still, eyes trained forward on the view before you. Your focus prompted him to take in the sight once more, bringing his attention back to the vast expanse ahead.

"Where are we?" he asked, his voice low and steady.

It was now your turn to look at him, to observe the side of his face as he looked forward. The faint glow of the moonlight casted shadows on the contours of his face. He looked almost holy, something devout and ethereal. "You don’t recognize it?”

Your question led to a contemplative frown creasing his brow and he turned his head, taking in the soft smile on your face. “Should I?”

You turned your body fully to face him, craning your head to look up at him. There was a subtle shift in his expression as your eyes met. You nodded toward the view, a gentle encouragement.

“Look again.” 

And he did. 

Then, his gaze softened, a hint of recognition flickering in his eyes. Azriel's shoulders fell, a subtle release of tension, and his wings shuddered softly. "I used to come here," he said quietly, "A long time ago… I used to come here."

His eyes shifted between you and the view. You met his gaze, nodding in silent understanding, leaving a space of silence that invited him to continue talking if he desired to— if he was comfortable. 

"I found it flying one night," he continued. His memories now seemed to dance in his mind, distant yet vivid, a time before Amarantha, before Koshei. A faint smile ghosted his lips. “I'd find time between missions to come here and just breathe. Now I could never validate wasting time to be here, doing nothing."

You let out a small hum. “Taking time to breathe is never a waste.”

Azriel turned to look at you. "How did you..." 

"Know about this?" you finished for him. He nodded.

You smiled, the expression warm and animated. Holding your arms in front, one hand cradling each elbow, you continued, "I could feel it. Part of our duty," your voice carried a gentle honesty. "The Mother helps us to find your peace."

Azriel's gaze scanned you again, a subtle curiosity in his eyes. His attention shifted to your arms, and then to the snow-covered surroundings. "Are you cold?" he asked, concern lacing his words. Instinctively, he placed a hand on your bicep, but quickly retracted it when he registered the movement. 

You kept your gaze locked with his, unfazed. "No," you replied calmly, and then added, "Neither are you."

Azriel blinked, and then he looked down at himself, his eyes scanning his own body, his arms. He wasn’t cold. He thought back to every time he had visited this place, this lookout. Being so high up made the air nippy, made the breeze cold–  he always wore an extra layer.  But here he stood, alongside you, and all he could feel was a sense of warmth. Interesting. It was all so interesting to him. 

Azriel nodded to himself, turning to face forward again. He traced the tops of the snow-covered mountains, the valley below. You remained sideways for a moment, watching him as he processed the image before him. Another moment passed and then you, too, turned to face forward, mirroring his contemplative posture. 

“So, what does it all mean?” He asked, his voice a low murmur. 

You stilled, rubbing your lips together as you took in his question. You glanced to the side, his eyes still trained before him. It wasn’t the view he was talking about, you knew this. He was asking the question many before him had, wondering about the purpose of life, the answer to their troubles. You thought for a moment, pondering on what to tell him. There were no right responses here— at least, none that you thought would satisfy him. So, you answered from your heart.

“Does it have to mean something?”

Azriel’s head turned to you. “Yes,” He said, all too fast. It had to mean something. His entire existence, his suffering, every life he had taken— it had to mean something. He needed it to mean something. The agony he had lived with, the anger he wore as second skin, it was all for something… for some reason. He needed it to be. So he continued, “It has to.”

You studied him, watching the subtle shifts in his demeanor, the weight of his gaze lingering on you— there was something in his eyes, a sense of desperation, of fear. You took a deep breath, and then you offered an understanding smile.

“Then it means whatever you need it to mean.”

Azriel frowned.

“That isn’t an answer.”

You tilted your head slightly, looking at him for a moment before you responded. “Well,” You said, "Perhaps you asked the wrong question.”

“What do you mean?” His brows knitted together, forming a furrowed line of confusion on his forehead. Faintly, in the back of his head, an ache gnawed at him. 

Facing each other now, you maintained eye contact as he looked at you intently.  “Ask me what you really want to, Azriel.”

”I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There was a tinge of frustration in his voice, delicately mixed into the confusion that laced it. 

You simply shrugged, giving him a close-mouthed smile. “You will.”

In normal circumstances, your elusive answers would have driven him crazy—  he would be suspicious of you, find a sense of guilt in your failure to give proper, concrete responses. But he wasn’t in a normal circumstance, and you weren’t a threat. These were two things he knew, now, for sure. So he took your answers, as ambiguous as they were, and let them sit with him in the comfortable, cool, silence. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel found you again by the Sidra, walking along the cobblestone streets of Velaris. It was the same again, him being able to find you without so much as a second guess. It was daytime now, he noticed. The sun shone brightly, casting a warm glow onto the city streets, filling his body with a comfortable, familiar, warmth. A few steps ahead of him, you stilled, turning around gracefully to face him. 

“Hello Azriel.” 

He stopped, making a motion to look around as if he were to find someone else, another person you might be referring to. Quickly he remembered that it was just you and him in this plane, in this form of his existence. He cleared his throat.

“Y/n,” He greeted, with a small nod of his head. 

He walked towards you, stopping into place in front of you, a few feet ahead. The sunlight hit your back, creating a soft, radiant glow around your silhouette– it outlined your figure, forming a subtle halo around your head that seemed to blend with the warmth of the sun. It almost looked as if the sunlight itself was embracing you, framing your presence with a touch of radiance. Azriel took a moment to admire it. 

He realized seconds later that he’d stared for too long, that you were now gazing up at him expectantly, eyes scanning his face. 

Azriel wasn’t much of a talker, not around strangers, and sometimes not even his own family. It was never that he didn’t have things to say— quite the opposite, really. Az thought about everything, and he thought about it all very deeply. He had too much to say, too much that he’d observed. But now, in front of you, his mind was drawing blanks. He thought back to how, not long ago, you both stood on a snowy mountain, looking into the comfortable darkness of the night. How time worked here, with you, he didn’t know. It didn’t bother him, however, not like it did when he first woke up. In fact, he had begun to enjoy it. To enjoy how free it was, how there were no rules, no expectations, no missions. 

Azriel paused, his thoughts swirling, and then, almost as if caught off guard by his own words, he blurted out, "I would like to show you something." 

You blinked in surprise, your mouth parting slightly as your heart seemed to skip a beat, carefully falling back into a rhythmic melody. A smile spread across your features– a broad, teeth-revealing smile. The corners of Azriel’s lips turned up in response. If you didn’t know any better, you would have described the smile as almost awkward in its delivery. Though modest, it still held a certain beauty as it graced his face. The lines that had once etched across his features seemed to smooth out, replaced by silent calm evident in the softening of his gaze, the subtle curve of that smile. Your own smile settled into a close-lipped one, and you gently pulled your bottom lip with your teeth before nodding your head.  

“Lead the way, Azriel," you said, and he began walking, but not without a quick glance back at you, ensuring you were following his lead. As you walked beside him at a comfortable pace, his wings fanned out comfortably. Their immense size allowed them to extend behind you, and even though you walked at his pace, you could feel their presence above you.

The streets of Velaris unfolded before you as you walked alongside Azriel. You took it all in– the beauty of the city, its intricate architecture and vibrant atmosphere. It was always a pleasure to experience it, to breathe in its life. Even amidst the circumstances that brought you here, there was a sense of appreciation for the privilege of experiencing such a place. A sense of jealousy welled up within you. Envy for those who could lead a normal life here— those who could wake up, take a walk by the Sidra, greet their friends in the morning light. It all seemed so mundane, so easy. You pushed the thought away, not wanting to give it the air to breathe, the space to fester. You looked towards Azriel.

“Where are we going?” You asked, as you both rounded a corner into a small alleyway. The space was narrow, causing you to fall into line behind him, your vision focusing on his wings. They were beautiful before, in the nighttime glow, but seeing them in such close proximity, with the sun casting through their membranes, it was a different experience. Such beautiful, beautiful things, you thought. You ached to run your fingertips across them. 

He responded over his shoulder, "Aren't you supposed to know everything?"

You sensed a slight playful tone in his voice, letting out a small laugh at his question. 

"That's not how it works," you replied, "I'm not The Mother."

Azriel stopped for a moment, causing you to skitter to a stop as well. He looked back, a puzzled expression crossing his face as he uttered a simple "huh." 

You suddenly felt a vulnerability settling in, an awkward awareness of yourself and your proximity to him. Before it could fully take hold, Azriel resumed walking and you followed. The alleyway began to open up to a bigger road, allowing the space for you both to begin walking side by side once more. 

"Azriel,” You said, casting a glance up at him, “If you're leading me to some private area to kill me, I hate to tell you that it won't work."

He stopped, and then craned his head down to look at you. A nervous flutter danced in your chest as a sense of self-consciousness crept in. What a stupid joke to make, you thought. What if he believed you were making a crude reference to his duties as a spymaster– assuming the worst of him and his abilities?  Had you inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject in an attempt at humor? You weren't friends, you reminded yourself,  there was still an expectation of professionalism to uphold. Azriel looked at you for a moment. And then another.

And then, he laughed. The sound, small and amused, radiated through your chest. You awkwardly joined in, unsure if your joke had landed or if it was something else entirely.

"Why would I kill the one who will bring me peace?" he asked, his words delivered with a touch of sincerity. 

You let out a breath, taking in his face, the hazel of his eyes as he stared down at you. You smiled back at him, letting out another laugh, this time more certain and lighthearted. "Right, that would be foolish of you.”

You knew that Azriel was talking about your duties, about the job of a Reaper, not you specifically. But for a moment, you let yourself live in a fantasy, one where you weren't simply The Mother’s hand, where you didn’t only exist here, in a space where no one remembered you. 

Azriel beckoned you to walk into the bigger street. It was only a few more steps before you stopped, taking in the sight of a quaint shop before you, adorned with small tables and chairs, surrounded by hanging plants and flowers. The window boasted a delicately hand-painted logo: Fillings & Emulsions.

Azriel took notice of the silence surrounding you both, no hum of the usual Velaris life, no laughter, no murmured distant conversations. Yet, the shop still smelled like its usual self— a sweet, buttery aroma of delicate treats and pastries. Azriel breathed it in with a smile. He opened the door, a small jingle sounding above him where a tiny bell rang. He held it open for you to enter.

Your gaze swept across the interior, taking in the small tables and the glass display filled with pastries of various shapes and colors. Behind the counter, loaves of bread sat neatly on wooden shelves.

"I like coming here, when I have the time." 

Wandering around and exploring the cozy pastry shop, your gaze casually shifted towards Azriel, who remained by the doorway. "You're a dessert person?" you asked as you continued to meander through the charming space. 

“Sometimes,” Azriel replied, walking further into the store. He looked around, taking in the familiar environment, the comforting decor. “But they have these sour candies that I love. They come in this little gold box-”

“You mean these?”

Now behind the counter, you turned around to face him, a small delicate gold box in your hand. The plastic cover revealed 12 small square gummies nestled inside, each in their own white wrapper. You looked up at him for confirmation. Azriel met your eyes before his gaze traveled down to your hands.

“Yes,” he breathed, a small smile forming on his lips, “Those.”

You smiled at the response, slowly making your way back around the counter, a few feet away from where he stood. You surveyed the store, eyes bouncing to the different tables and mismatched chairs. “Where do you usually sit?” 

 “I, uh, I don’t.” Azriel cleared his throat. “I never have the time. And when I do, I usually just head home.” 

Azriel didn’t explain further, didn’t tell you his real reasons. It was true, he usually didn’t have time to sit and leisurely enjoy a box of candies. But when he did, he was often too afraid to stay in the store itself. 

Azriel knew he called attention, that his wings stuck out in stark contrast against the gentle streets of the city, the quiet hum of life. He’d conditioned himself to appear smaller when walking around, to avoid direct eye contact so as to not intimidate those he passed. But even then, his presence was offputting– he’d catch citizens avoiding him, creating more distance between them or switching to the opposite side of the street.  It was part of the job, he told himself. He was a large male, fully aware of how terrifying his stature could be, how frightening his own wings could be— especially when fully extended. Not even to mention his scarred hands, ones that he was sure fae could imagine easily drenched in the blood of his enemies. He wore gloves when he could. He wasn’t ashamed of them– his hands– not as much as before, but he was always acutely aware. Aware that they weren’t normal, that they drew attention, that for the comfort of others, he hid them away. 

He came to, his thoughts slowly dissipating as he registered his surroundings once more, his gaze landing on you. You looked at him with a small curiosity in your eyes.

“Well,” You said, taking a glance around, “Would you like to sit now?”

“I would.” He nodded, offering a small smile that carried a touch of timidity. It wasn't like before, no uncertainty or awkwardness, but rather a gentle expression that hinted at a reserved warmth. 

“Inside or outside?”

Azriel looked over his shoulder, towards the small door and the seating outside. 

“Outside,” he replied.

A hum of agreement escaped your lips as you gave him a smile, taking a step to the side in order to walk around him, leading the way. The gentle jingle of the little doorbell echoed delicately as you stepped outside.

 Azriel followed you, watching as you approached a small steel table. The white paint was chipped, flaking off at certain areas of the legs, but you didn’t seem to mind. The air felt crisp and clean, rays of sunshine peeking through alleyways and the tips of the stores that lined the street. Azriel took a moment to breathe it in, savoring the clarity that hung in the atmosphere, the silence. You pulled out your chair, the movement emitting a small screech as it slid against the cobblestones. Azriel walked to the table, standing opposite of you, and carefully took a seat. 

As you slowly opened the box, Azriel adjusted himself in the seat. It was small, the steel back stiff and straight, making it hard for him to sit comfortably with his wings. After a small struggle, he settled into a position sitting up right, wings draping across each side of the chair. The frustration melted away as he took in his surroundings once more. He felt a certain peace he’d never felt before. A lightness in his movements, in his touch. The fresh air kissed his skin, a soft breeze whispered into his ears, threading itself through his hair. 

“Is it always like this?” He asked. 

You pulled the lid off the box, casting a glance up at him. Azriel’s head was turned sideways, his gaze following the curve of the streets.

“Like what?”

He looked at you, catching your eye. His face held a graceful calmness, brows slightly furrowed, and the corners of his lips turned up ever so slightly. With a soft, velvety tone, he replied, "This peaceful." 

Turning to the side, you quickly scanned over the streets, registering the simple beauty that surrounded you both. Turning back to him, a tender smile played on your lips.

“Yes,” you replied, “It is.”

Azriel's response was a simple silent contemplation. Leaning back with a subtle adjustment for comfort, his wings gently folded and his gaze fixed on the table. Azriel loved Velaris. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the peace of an empty city that graced him now. Sitting with you now, at a small table by the streets, was something he was never able to do— not truly, not to this extent. He held the feeling close. 

 "Which are your favorites?" 

Your voice pulled Azriel back to reality. He blinked, and then he looked at you. 

"The green ones.”

You picked up one of the green candies nestled in white wrapping and offered it to him. Your hands briefly touched as he gently accepted the candy from you. You felt the texture of his skin against yours, the small ridges formed by the scarred tissue that extended to his fingers. 

Azriel waited for it– the expected recoil from unintended contact, his body having been naturally accustomed to jump at the slightest of touches. However, this time, there was no involuntary withdrawal, no rush of icy embarrassment. 

He was always so careful of his touch with Elain, acutely aware of how his hands looked against her immaculate skin. Although he refused to admit it, it bothered him deeply, how obvious it made his differences appear. Yet, that caution wasn’t found now, in his movements with you. Instead, a sense of certainty filled him, a gentle nudge to his heart, a contentedness with himself and his presence. You were beautiful, graceful, kind– and he didn’t feel guilt when touching you, didn’t feel as if he were about to taint something too beautiful for his hands.

You observed him as he stared at his hands, now resting on the table, the candy still in between his fingers. With a small movement, you gently cupped the side of one of them with your palm. 

“Azriel,” You softly said, pulling his attention to you. “They didn’t feel this type of peace— didn’t feel peace at all, actually.”

Azriel stayed quiet, his gaze now trained on where your hand touched his. You pulled your hand back, and Azriel's gaze followed. Then, almost imperceptibly, the hazel of his eyes brightened. There was something about the way you spoke to him, about how kind your voice was. They didn’t feel peace. Your words rang in his head, a wave of relief passing through his body. It healed a part of him that he swore was broken, warmed his body like a summer's eve. He gave you a small smile. 

You worried for a moment that you had forced thoughts onto him, ones that harbored pain and loneliness. But you felt it in your gut, a need to tell him, to let him know that they had suffered the way they deserved— that his hands were solely a part of him, a body part, natural. And from his response, it seemed as if he understood what you were saying, and most importantly, that it resonated with him the way you wished it to. You returned your attention to the sour candies before you.

"Can I ask why you like these so much?"

Azriel looked at you, a close-mouthed smile forming. His eyes crinkled a bit, and then he explained, "My mother used to give me candies just like this when I was able to see her. I never figured out how she got them. She..." He trailed off, readjusting how he was sitting. His gaze met yours as he finished, "That's why."

You could sense the sadness now evident in his face, his wings rolling in closer to his body. You let out a small breath as a sudden pang of sympathy hit you. 

"Let's talk about something else," you suggested, subtly shifting the focus as you played with the edges of the candy box

Azriel leaned forward quickly, his hand reaching out to gently rest on yours before either of you had the chance to register the movement. "It's alright,” he said softly. “I'd like to talk about this. I don't talk about her much.”

Your gaze lingered on his hand touching yours, on the warmth that spread through your skin at the contact. Be professional, you reminded yourself. This is not real. 

With a genuine smile, you nodded, careful not to move a muscle, not wanting to disrupt the moment, to risk the chance of him retracting his hand.  "Then please, I'd love to hear.”

And so he did. Azriel spoke of his mother, of growing up admiring her long hair and the way she smelled of pine and snow. He realized that he had never talked so much about himself, never shared such intimate details about his life. He realized, too, that he quite liked it. He liked talking to you. He liked you. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Days and nights had passed, Azriel was sure of it, but he was never tired, never slept. Time worked so differently here– he wasn’t aware of it passing, wasn’t aware of what he’d done the day before or even hours prior. All he was aware of was the peace in his heart, how it radiated throughout his body, relieving him of centuries worth of tension. Amidst it all was you, a companion Azriel had grown to enjoy— to adore, if he was being honest with himself.

You were kind and patient, welcoming in a way that had him opening up to you, telling you stories that he’d never dared to share with anyone else. There was no fear of being vulnerable here, with you, no threat he had to worry about, no anxiety regarding a new enemy or an evil to defeat. It was all so easy. 

Azriel walked through the hallways of the House of Wind, taking in the familiar sense of home that filled it, the beauty of the sun-warmed stone. He found himself outside of his own room, staring in at the space. It was strange to think that his body, his real body, lay in another bedroom, in another home— in a form of existence that he no longer held. It was all so very strange. But he didn’t mind, not anymore.

He felt you before he heard you, a gentle breeze fanning over him, a smell of sweetness filling his nose. He turned to face you, taking in your presence, the cream dress that adorned your figure. It was there again, the subtle halo around your head, framed by faint rays of sunlight. 

“Hello, Azriel.” You greeted with a large smile. He mirrored the gesture almost instantly. 

“Hello, y/n.” 

You took a few steps forward, craning your head to peer into the room behind him, past the doorway he stood under. 

“Is this your room?” 

“Yes,” He said, taking a step aside to allow for you to pass him as you entered. “One of many. My family, they have many places to call home.”

“Do you miss them?” You asked, casting a glance over your shoulder as you moved around his room, “Your family, I mean.”

Azriel stilled for a moment. He hadn’t thought of them as much as he would have expected, a part of him felt guilty for not being as heartbroken. He did miss his family– he was worried about them, about how they were doing, if his help was needed. But he didn’t feel a rush to return to his life, no nauseating need to fix his current situation, to be healed and awake. 

“Yes.” He replied. He watched as you walked around, carefully taking in your surroundings. His room wasn’t very interesting— simple decorations that had already been placed before he took residence, various random books. 

“Where do you disappear to?” Azriel asked. 

You turned to look at him, taking him in for the first time since you entered. It was still there, you noticed, the sense of calm on his face, the evidence of a serene ease. His eyes held a lightness that you’d seen grow since he first came to you. His shoulders were relaxed, his wings comfortably fanned out behind him in an open and unhurried sprawl.

To do your job, you thought. The duties of a Reaper. Visiting souls in distress, leading them to their peace swiftly– efficiently. Not staying with them, not keeping them company. No, those were things you’d reserved for Azriel. You only hoped that The Mother wasn’t angry, that your affinity for him didn’t disrupt a delicate balance. 

“As much as I enjoy our time together, I still have duties to fulfill,” You replied. “Did you miss me?”

You intended for it to be a joke, a lighthearted comment that would make him laugh– a melodic sound you had gotten used to recently, one that you savored and replayed in your mind. Yet Azriel’s eyes met yours with a serious gaze. 

“Yes,” He answered, his voice sincere. “I did.”

Something in your chest fluttered and your mouth parted, a pleasant shiver rolling through your body. There was a small heat that rose to your cheeks. For a moment, you looked at the floor, composing yourself before meeting his gaze again. A genuine smile graced your lips as you softly admitted, "I missed you, too." 

A few moments later, you walked along Azriel as he shared stories about his home, his brothers, and the various experiences he'd had, absorbing each narrative with hungry ears. It was a beautiful thing to see, Azriel open and laughing, the smile on his lips as he recalled favorite memories. This house, The House of Wind as Azriel had called it, was filled with life– his life. You could feel it everywhere as you walked. There was a small tug at your heart. He had a life. A beautiful, real life. 

Eventually, you both stopped at a large window, the outside world spread before you in a breathtaking view. Azriel found his gaze dropping to the streets below, devoid of the usual bustling life he was used to. Faintly, a small ache hit the back of his head. He blinked it away. Then, he frowned slightly, a realization hitting him that he didn’t enjoy seeing the streets empty– that something felt missing. He turned to look at you, brows furrowed. 

"Do you ever get lonely?" 

The question lingered in the air for a moment, stealing the air from your lungs. Why it seemed to strike, you couldn’t tell, but it left a burn in its wake. You let out a deep breath as you looked up at Azriel.

“The Mother blessed me with a duty that is fulfilling.”

Azriel looked at you, studying your response. A sense of sadness filled him, a gentle ache in his heart at the idea, at the image of you alone, wandering the empty streets. Softly, he spoke, "That's not what I asked." 

A wave of emotion washed over you. There was a sanctity to your duties, to the job that you held. You were honored to help The Mother, to be the one that granted such peace. You never knew that you could feel such longing, such a desire to be someone else, something else, until you met Azriel the first time he crossed. And then the time after. And now. 

 "Yes, Azriel,” you admitted, “I do.”

As you both stood in the quiet moment, the stunning view from the window still visible in your peripheral vision, you looked at Azriel. You took in his details—the tousle of his hair, the gleam in his eyes—committing the scene to memory. This was an image you wanted to save forever, one of him so close, so connected. 

Azriel broke the silence with another question, "Why do you do that? Say my name so often?"

You didn’t realize that the frequency in which you used his name was noticeable. It rolled off your tongue so easily, so naturally. You thought about it for a moment, thought about the feeling you got before you said it. 

"Would you prefer me to call you by something else?" you asked, tilting your head slightly as you observed Azriel's expressions. "Shadowsinger, or Spymaster?"

His response was immediate and he took a step forward as he spoke. "No," Azriel said, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I-I like it."

You smiled at him. "I suppose I do it to make sure you feel seen." 

A flicker of confusion crossed Azriel's face, his brows knitting together. "Seen?"

"To show you that you're not just what you do," you explained, your voice carrying a quiet sincerity. Your words trailed off softly. A beat passed, and then you added, "At least not to me." 

In his hundreds of years of life, Azriel was never seen. He had been perceived, observed, even known, but never truly seen. Not like the way you looked at him, the way you allowed him to breathe, allowed him to exist as nothing more than simply Azriel. 

Your gaze held seemed to see beyond the layers he had meticulously built around himself for so long, beyond the titles and responsibilities that often defined him. For the first time, he felt a sense of vulnerability mingled with relief—a feeling of being understood in a way he hadn't experienced before, in a way he never felt he deserved. A warmth spread through his body, starting from the pit of his stomach and radiating outward, enveloping him in a comforting embrace. 

Without even realizing it, his hand moved towards you, lifting a strand of your hair and gently holding it between his scarred fingers. In the past, he would have hesitated to touch another person so intimately, but in this moment, there was no hesitation, no sense of reluctance, only a pull to you and you only. Was this part of what it meant to be a Reaper? He wondered, to cause such comfort in those you kept company? To make them feel like this? 

He watched the way the strand of hair caught the light, twirling it between his fingers with a tenderness he had never known himself capable of. He met your eyes, slightly widened, observing him intently. With a soft smile, Azriel spoke, "I see you too, Y/n.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

His view was filled with rolling hills, vibrant in green hues, a gentle afternoon sun in the sky. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of babbling brooks and streams, a soothing melody that seemed to blend seamlessly with the rustle of the wind through the grass, through the leaves of the trees that surrounded you. Azriel understood why Mor was so fond of her estate, why she ran off to it when she could. If it was surrounded with views like this, with such quiet life, beautiful life, he would escape to it, too. Beside him, you lay on the soft grass, your hair spread out around you like a halo. 

Despite the open air, Azriel felt groggy, his eyelids heavier than they’d felt in a while. Something felt strange, a trickling sense of anxiety within his body. The wind in his hair and the air on his arms, on his wings, didn’t feel the same— it wasn’t as lively, wasn’t as strong. There was a sharp throb in the back of his head, sending a sudden wave of pain crashing over him. He grimaced and let out a low groan.

Instinctively, you jumped up at the sound, angling your body to face him, concern painting your features. Your heart dropped as you watched him bring a hand to the back of his head, brows furrowed in discomfort.

Amidst pained groans, Azriel turned to you with a frown. "I’m sorry. I just- I keep having these horrible headaches.”

You let out a small breath.

"It's because you're healing," you murmured softly, your voice tinged with sorrow. Your gaze lingered on him, sadness flickering across your features. When Azriel’s eyes met yours, you quickly blinked away any evidence of it, calling forward a gentle, unassuming, face. 

His hand dropped slowly from the back of his head. "I am?" he echoed.

You extended your hand, hovering it gently over the back of his head where his hand had been moments ago. "This is where you damaged your skull," you explained softly,. "The injury that got you... Well, here. With me." Your gaze swept around the tranquil surroundings, a small, bittersweet smile playing at the corners of your lips. "Any progress in your physical body, you feel here too," you continued, your voice tender yet matter-of-fact. "The ache is calling you back."

"Back to my life," Azriel murmured, the words barely audible as they slipped from his lips, softening and fading before they fully formed.

You nodded, a lump in the back of your throat. 

Azriel's expression shifted abruptly, a flash of tension replacing the settled calmness that had graced his face for quite some time now.  "I don't want to go back," he said. It was a tone of voice you’d never heard from him before, a sense of desperation that didn’t fit him. 

 You shook your head gently. "You don't mean that.”

But Azriel remained resolute. Moving closer, he reached out, his hand coming to rest atop yours on your thigh. "I do," he insisted, his tone unwavering. “Y/n, I do.”

“Azriel,” You said sternly. “You have a life waiting for you, a long life.”

“But I’m so tired. All the time,Y/n” he admitted, his voice heavy with weariness. “And this,” he gestured around him, his eyes lingering on the rolling green hills, "this is the most at peace I’ve ever felt."

You felt a selfish impulse, a desire to indulge in his fantasy, to urge him to stay, to fight against the inevitable pull back to reality. But you knew it wasn't fair, that it wasn’t right. If you truly cared for someone, you had to be fair to them. And you cared for Azriel– cared for him in a way you’d never felt before. 

“But it’s not real,” you interjected softly, leaning in, your brows furrowed, your forehead creased with concern. "This isn’t a life.This isn’t a reality— this is an in-between. Sooner or later, you will find yourself on one end.”

Azriel couldn’t understand. His heart hurt. Why weren’t you agreeing with him? Why weren’t you telling him to stay, convincing him it was worth it? This peace he felt with you, this quiet life you lived, he could stay. He would stay. 

“You’re real,” he whispered, his voice tinged with desperation. “And right now, this...” he trailed off, his gaze sweeping over your face, "this feels real to me.”

You took a deep breath, feeling knots tightening in your stomach, a lump forming in your throat. You swallowed down the words you wanted to say, replacing the ones on your tongue with those he needed to hear. 

"I'm a Reaper," you said, reminding him of the inevitable separation it entailed. His eyes, a dark, almost sad brown, met yours. “Reapers aren’t meant to stay.”

The knots in your stomach were twisting now, weaving themselves through your ribs. It was hard for you to breathe, hard for you to look at Azriel as he stared at you with such clear hurt on his face. He couldn’t stay. It wasn’t natural. It wasn’t the plan. Azriel was going to return to a life where he would not remember you, a life in which you didn’t exist. And you would remain here, waiting in a form of existence that had no time. 

"Your family misses you," you continued, your gaze unwavering as you locked eyes with him. The knots now wrapped around your heart, squeezing.  "You still have things to do. They need you. You need them."

Surely your heart was about to burst, the pressure in your chest now overwhelming– crushing you, your heartbeat erratic. 

“Come with me.” Azriel said.

You let out a small breath, a soft laugh escaping your lips at the absurdity of his suggestion. It sounded so simple, so easy, but you knew better. It wasn't that simple, life was never that easy. You were a Reaper. He was a soul. Before you could respond, Azriel continued, his voice still gentle but earnest.

"You'll love them. And you'll love Velaris when it is filled with people. With life."

His eyes bore into you, seemingly searching for something, trying to memorize every contour of your face, every flicker of emotion that danced across your features. 

"I can't," you replied softly, your heart heavy with the weight of your duty. You shook your head again as you tightened your lips for a moment. "That's not how this works.”

Azriel's demeanor softened, a small breath of defeat escaping him as his wings drooped slightly. He took in everything you said, his gaze flickering down to where his hand still rested atop yours before meeting your eyes again.

"I don’t want to leave you here," he said quietly.

Here, alone, he thought. It was true, everything was so beautiful in this form of existence. It was quiet, serene, and calm. The nights were beautiful, the days were glorious. But without you, it would have been empty. Void of life. He didn’t want that for you, he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving you in such a vast space. It felt wrong. 

You recognized the concern in his eyes, realizing that his desperation stemmed from a place of caring– caring for you.  It struck a chord within you, stirring a bittersweet pang in your chest, right beside your rapidly beating, tied up heart. Somehow, knowing that he cared for you only made you care for him more, deepening the sorrow that lingered in you, the feeling that now coursed through your veins. 

Tilting your head, you offered him a soft smile, a gesture of reassurance, you hoped. "Azriel," you said gently, your voice tinged with a warmth he had grown to love,  "I'll be alright. I'm happy here. It's where I belong."

It wasn’t all a lie. This was where you belonged, and you would be alright. But you weren’t sure if you’d be happy. Happiness wasn’t something you used to think of. You had a duty, a sacred, important duty, nothing else really mattered— not yourself, not your desires, not your heart. 

Azriel took in your answer, swallowing the urge to fight it, to convince you further.  But the pleading in your eyes, coupled with the ache in his chest and the heaviness in his stomach, left him feeling defeated. With a resigned nod, he looked at you, his voice soft but determined.

"I'll find you," he whispered.

You blinked, caught off guard by the soft declaration.

"I'll find you," Azriel said again, his tone firmer, as if he were making a promise that he intended to keep.

You understood the sentiment behind his words, recognizing the determination in his eyes. You knew, without needing to discuss it, that as a skilled spymaster, he possessed the ability to find people. Yet, deep down, you also understood the inevitable truth—that soon, he would forget you, forget the time you spent together. The thought caused a sharp ache in your heart, one you preferred not to dwell on.

So, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded and murmured, "Okay." And offered him a smile. 

You sat there in silence, the weight of his words hanging in the air around you. Breathing in the crisp, fresh air, you let the sounds of nature wash over you, grounding you in the present moment. Your gaze lingered on his face, committing every detail to memory, as if carving it into your very being. You wanted to remember this. Remember him, his touch, his care for you. 

Azriel—the shadowsinger, the spymaster, a skilled killer. And then there was you—the servant of the Mother, a guide for souls, bound by duty and devotion. Death and his Reaper. What a poetic pair you made.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

It was time. 

You had been right, when you talked him down before, sitting on the beautiful green hill.  Azriel had a life to return to, a family he missed– a family that missed him. He didn’t belong here, no matter how much he wished he could. He could feel it, nestled within his ribs, a deep pull to his body. 

Azriel stood in the familiar confines of the River house, his gaze fixed on the bed where his physical form lay peacefully. He took in the sight of his body, now filled with color, vibrant and alive, a stark contrast to the pale, lifeless form he had been when he first awoke. 

A sense of disorientation washed over him as he realized he was back here, in this room, though he couldn't recall making the conscious decision to return. From behind him, he felt your presence, a familiar energy that always seemed to embrace him with a comfortable warmth, the sweet smell in his nose.

 "I didn't even realize I was coming here.” Azriel said. 

Without turning, he heard your soft voice. "You never do," you replied simply, “Your body calls and you answer.”

Azriel nodded slowly, the lump in his throat making it difficult to speak. He breathed out heavily. He longed to turn and look at you, to embrace your presence, trace the features of your face. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet. He wasn't ready. He wasn't ready to confront the truth that lay before him—that he wanted to go back, back to the land of the living, to his family, to embrace his life once more. But he wasn't ready for what he needed to do in order to return– wasn’t ready to say goodbye to you.

“Azriel,” You said, as you gently placed your hand on his arm. He turned to look at you, his heart skipping a beat.The faelight cast a soft glow on your body, illuminating the delicate features of your face, dancing through your hair like shimmering strands of moonlight. And there it was—the small, reassuring smile that you had offered him so many times before. The smile you had given to him when he first woke up, afraid and alarmed, in the same place he stood now. 

He couldn't help but feel a flicker of happiness at the sight of your gentle smile, but just as quickly as the feeling washed over him, it was replaced by a bittersweet pang of realization. The reality of why you were here, why you were looking at him with such tender affection, why he could barely feel your touch— and why his head throbbed with searing pain. He glanced over his shoulder at his sleeping form, and then looked at you again. 

“Y/n, I-”

You gently shook your head, a soft shushing sound escaping your lips as you reached out to calm him. "It's okay," you reassured him, your voice gentle but firm. "You won’t feel a thing."

But Azriel shook his head too, his expression filled with concern as he took your hands in his. "That's not what I'm worried about," he admitted quietly.

You met his gaze, taking in every detail of his face, breathing in his scent. Your gaze drifted towards his wings, so beautiful, so powerful. And then you looked back at him.

"I'll be okay." 

It was a promise, not just to him, but to yourself.

Azriel's senses dulled and the pain intensified, a sense of desperation washed over him. He thought back to your conversations earlier. He never figured out how time worked here, perhaps the conversation had been days ago, even weeks. But, to him, it felt like hours prior. Maybe a day, if he was being generous. Still, his mind raced with thoughts, with things he wanted to tell you, to ask of you, things that hadn’t been there before. Ask me what you really want to, Azriel, you had said, so he did.

“Am I worthy?” His voice rang out, unsure, afraid— of the answer, of what the question meant. “Am I worthy of this life? Is… is it worth it?”

You smiled. A broad, bright, and kind smile. 

You felt Azriel's hands tremble slightly in yours, guiding them to your lips. With tender reverence, you pressed a small, tender kiss upon his scarred flesh. “Yes,” you whispered, “If only you knew.”

You understood now, why The Mother always urged for a swift journey. You weren’t supposed to spend such intimate times with your souls, you weren’t supposed to grow comfortable in their presence, to learn about their favorite candies and the way their mothers smelled. You weren’t supposed to because it distracted you from your duty– and more importantly, you weren’t supposed to because it prevented you from the heartache you felt now. A piercing pain in your chest, a heaviness in your stomach. 

You lifted a hand and gently placed it on his cheek. The warmth of your touch radiated through his body, sending a wave of indescribable sensation coursing through him. The world seemed to blur around him, the ringing in his ears drowning out all other sound. He squinted against the growing brightness, his head throbbing with a relentless ache. He heard your voice, soft like honey, sweet like tea, whispering in his ear in perfect clarity. 

“Goodbye, Azriel.”

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

Azriel jolted upright, his body propelled by a surge of adrenaline that left him momentarily breathless. With a deep inhale, he struggled to steady his racing heart, his surroundings swimming into focus with agonizing slowness.

Each detail of the room seemed to materialize before him in excruciating detail, from the soft glow of the morning light filtering through the window to the faint murmur of voices drifting from the doorway. His hand instinctively went to the back of his head, a gesture born of instinct rather than any physical discomfort. Confusion furrowed his brow as he tried to recall why he had woken with such a start, where he currently was, why he laid on a bare bed, but the memory seemed frustratingly out of reach– blurry and unfocused. 

As Azriel's eyes adjusted to the soft light filtering through the room, the door creaked open, a distant sound barely registering in his slow mind. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, a blur of motion filled his vision and Cassian was upon him, bounding forward with a crushing embrace. "There's my boy!" 

With a startled gasp, Azriel felt the air rush out of his lungs as Cassian's hug engulfed him, the force of the impact momentarily disorienting him further than he already was. A small, involuntary sound—a mixture of surprise and amusement—escaped his lips as he tried to regain his bearings. Azriel's gaze flickered past Cassian’s broad shoulders, to where Rhysand stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and amusement.

"Okay, Cass," Rhysand said, walking towards the bed. "Let him breathe. We don’t want to give him another head injury."

Cassian released Azriel from his enthusiastic embrace, though a joyous gleam danced in his eyes as he stepped back, offering Azriel a sheepish grin. "My bad," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of embarrassment, “I just missed ya.” 

Rhysand stood casually, a playful smirk dancing across his lips. "If you were seeking attention, Az, you could've simply asked," he said with a wave of his hand. "No need to resort to dying for it."

The comment elicited a shocked blink from Azriel, his brows furrowing in confusion. "I- What?" he echoed. A few of his shadows slithered up his arms, wrapping themselves across his shoulders, the cool trail of them relieving tension in his upper body. 

Rhysand let out a small laugh as he clapped him on the shoulder with a reassuring grin. "You have a lot of catching up to do, brother," Rhysand remarked, “Let's get you back to the land of the living.”

Azriel offered a small, uncertain laugh in response, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a hesitant smile, his mind still cloudy, disoriented. Rhysand and Cassian began talking, referring to him, attempting to fill Azriel in, but he wasn’t paying attention, their voices blending into a distant hum.

Instead, Azriel's attention was drawn to an inexplicable warmth on his cheek. Instinctively, he lifted his hand and gently touched the spot, feeling the comforting heat beneath his fingertips. He frowned, trying to make sense of the sensation, but the warmth seemed to soothe his lingering disorientation, grounding him in the present moment with a sense of…ease. 

Azriel's attention shifted towards the corner of the room, where a soft beam of sunlight filtered through the window. A handful of his shadows floated and twirled, their graceful movements dancing within the warm glow. He smiled, tilting his head at the sight, his hand still on his cheek. What a beautiful sight, Azriel thought. And then he was turning his attention back to his brothers, a wide smile now on his cheeks. 

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

y'all... imagine meeting ur soulmate but u can only see her when ur dead and cant remember her otherwise lol sucks for azriel.

[nocasdatsgay]

All this? Over an Heir?

A Neapolitan Bond’s Fic.

Pairing: Azriel/Eris/Reader | Rating: T| Word count: 3341

Master List | Read on A03 | For @sjmxreaderweek day 5 Heir.

Summary: Eris and Azriel are acting strange after a meeting with the Governors that you were not able to attend. You venture to find out what happened. You are not prepared for the truth.

Warnings: Discussion of having children, some slut shaming, off screen murder, some bigotry

A/N: I wasn’t planning on writing this but… it happens. Note the POV shift and the flashback when Eris is telling his story.

Tagging: (I am hoping I got everyone): @myromanempiree @pit-and-the-pen @lilah-asteria @crazylokonugget @st4r-girl-official @thisblogisaboutabook @paleidiot @div94 @tele86 @chaos-on-stand-bi @bobbyisbored @ysmtttty @romantasyreader28 @azrielsshadows42 @stargirlrchive @scarsandallaz @paintedbyshadows @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @acourtofbatboydreams @ninthcircleofprythian @secret-third-thing @theicarustoyourcertainty2 @hieragalbatorixdottir @daycourtofficial @prythianpages

Something was off with Eris and Azriel. 

You knew their tells by now for when something was bothering them. Eris had tense shoulders and a clenched jaw even if it was subtle. Azriel’s shadows flurried more no matter how much he shooed them away. You’d been in the village all day and returned shortly before sundown, so you had no idea what transpired. You waited for them to talk about it at dinner. 

Nothing. 

They only asked how your visit was and told you how the governors meeting started off rocky but ended well. At least by bed they’d relaxed, but still something was off. You’d made it your mission to find out what happened. You outright asked Azriel if he was alright the next day. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” A lie if you ever heard it. 

“Your shadows seemed more active is all,” you shrugged. His wings bristled but he didn’t respond. 

When you went to Eris, you had to ask less direct questions. You asked about any hangups in plans for the month. Issues with the budget. When nothing worked, you asked for the written record of the meeting you missed. That seemed to get a reaction. 

“I would have to find it.” Eris sighed. “It went three hours over and in a tired haze I can’t remember where I put it.” 

Eris never forgot where he put things. 

“When you find it, let me know.” You smiled sweetly. 

You then went through the House looking for one person who could give you information. Charlotte, wife of Elden, was the biggest gossip in Autumn. She heard everything and forgot nothing. You invited her to tea under the disguise of catching up. 

She was an older fae- her brown hair streaked with graying strands. It suited her, with how she pinned it up. She always had a flower in her hair to match her dress. Today it was a marigold and her dress was a velvet yellow. She greeted you with a kiss on the cheek and instantly went to chatting. It only took you a few sips of tea for her to bring up what you’d been waiting on. 

“And poor Lord Hurbert, may The Mother keep him. I plan to visit his wife later today. Though I doubt she will be mourning heavily.” 

“Lord Hurbert passed away?” You tilted your head. He was an elderly fae but not so old he was frail. 

Charlotte’s well maintained brows arched. 

“You didn’t know?” You shook your head. She made a hmph noise. “Elden said that the High Lord who, well” she let her voice trail.

“I’m sorry?” You put your cup down before your grip could break it. 

“That’s what Elden told me. He wouldn’t speak of what happened. Came back from his meeting all shook up. Whatever it was, he did say Hurbert deserved it. The Mother knows the old fool had a temper.”

You sat there in silence. Eris had murdered someone? You felt a coolness against your wrist. You looked down and the shadow that followed you had curled around your wrist. 

“Oh dear, don’t look so distraught,” Charlotte’s voice made you snap out of your haze. “Forty years and this is the first time the High Lord has done away with someone? Lord Beron used to make it a point to torture at least every full moon. Cauldron knows Lord Eris is better than his father. If I may speak plainly, Hubert was a dreadful male. I never knew why Lord Eris let him live when he came to power in the first place.” 

That brought you no comfort. 

“I need to speak with my husband,” you muttered, still in a daze. 

You went to stand and Lady Charlotte stood with you. She grasped your sleeve, her dainty hand holding a tight grip on the fabric. You met her gaze and saw the panic in her eyes. 

“Do not tell the High Lord I told you.” Gone was the humor and haughty tone, replaced with a harsh whisper. “I’d rather not be on the receiving end of his temper should he still have it.”

“Of course, I- I will not tell him,” you said firmly. “I am bound to learn of it soon enough regardless.”

She eased her grip and relaxed her shoulders. “Thank you, Lady.” 

“Of course, Charlotte.”  

You left the south parlor, your boots clicking almost too loudly on the tiles of the hall. The shadow continued to pulse on your wrist. An attempt to get you to keep your breath even. It helped but-

You went into an empty room. You could see some dust as the evening light poured in from the window. There were covers over furniture, bookcases bare along the wall. A fireplace almost pristine in appearance from being unused. Thirty years in this house and you still found secrets. You leaned back against the door after you shut it. 

Eris had killed someone. 

During a meeting no less. 

He didn’t tell you. 

Azriel knew and he didn’t tell you. 

You tugged the bonds. You felt them both tug back twice. You looked down at the shadow. 

“Tell them where I am please,” you whispered. 

The shadow uncurled and disappeared. You waited and didn’t bother to move from the door. They would winnow in. You also didn’t care if sadness poured through the bond to them either. You didn’t have to wait long- a blaze of fire lit up the room and swirls of shadows followed next to it. 

You crossed your arms when they came into view. Eris was in his deep brown riding pants and tight white shirt. You’d forgotten he was going to take his horse out. Azriel smelled like the wind, and he too wore tight clothes, leathers he used for flying. You ignored the concern on their faces and spoke before they could. 

“What happened at that meeting yesterday?” You were curt and to the point. “Do not lie to me.” 

Eris’s face hardened, his hands flexed at his side. He reached up and brushed back his hair from his face. It was back long enough that it fell over his shoulders again. A flame appeared in the fireplace. Without a flick of his hand, magic fell heavy over the room- a ward. He wasn’t your mate at that moment. He was Autumn’s High Lord. 

“Lord Hurbert Graham crossed a line and I handled it.” 

“By murdering him?” You asked loudly. 

You didn’t like that Lord. He constantly made digs at Azriel. Covert ones that you could only mitigate with a stern tone. But it felt wrong. It felt wrong for Eris to have just killed him. It felt too much like the stories you heard of Beron. 

“Eris did him a favor,” Azriel said darkly. His shadows flurried around him. “I wouldn’t have made it as quick.” 

You looked between them both. “What did he do?” It came out as a whisper. 

A flicker of emotion on both of their faces and a painful pulse in the bonds meant it had to be terrible. The fire died down but still burned in the fireplace. Thankfully Eris tampered the heat down from it. Neither of them spoke, so you asked again. 

“I am your mate. I am Lady of this court- a High Lady if you had your way, Eris. I deserve to know exactly what transpired.” 

A moment passed and Eris finally relaxed his shoulders. 

“I am going to need a drink.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Eris convinced you to go to his study and not your chambers. He would not repeat those words within the walls of his refuge. Az was tense. What transpired got to him more than he was letting on. Eris poured himself a shot first and threw it back to try and drown out the look of disappointment on your face from moments ago. He prepped your drink and Azriel’s, which he added a second shot to. It did not go unnoticed by Eris that you sat yours down to the side and looked at him expectantly. 

“Tell me what happened,” you repeated firmly. “And do not coat it in sugar.” 

“If that is what you wish,” He replied. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Lord Eris, may I speak freely?”

The meeting had just started and Eris was already annoyed. The annual governor’s meeting was never enjoyable, But without you- he forgot this was what it was like. Lord Hurbert had waited for a lull in the conversation to poise his question. The eldest of the Governors- save for Elden and Rafael. Hurbert was his least favorite but his loyalty to Eris while his father lived was something he respected. But that was about all Eris cared about. Even looking at him now two seats down, Eris had little care for the male. Even more so due to this interruption. 

“You’ve never been one to hold your tongue before,” Eris replied smartly. Az sent a wave of humor down the bond. 

“Thank you, High Lord.” Hurbert’s smile grated Eris’s nerves. “While I do not doubt we will continue to see times of peace for more decades to come, may the Mother bless us all, there is never a guarantee.” 

Eris felt Azriel tense beside him. “Is there something you know that we don’t?”

He ignored Azriel. An offense Eris took note of to deal with later. Hurbert’s voice grew louder, as if he was trying to captivate everyone’s attention despite already having it. 

“You’ve been High Lord for nearly four decades, Lord Eris. But you’ve taken the mantle much later in life than your- much later than the previous High Lord.“

A knot twisted into Eris’s stomach. “Do you have a point?”

Eris did not hide his frustration this time. Hurbert knew it too, with the way his beady eyes blinked and he shifted in his seat.

“You have a wife now.”

Eris felt unease in the bond to Az. He tried to send back something soothing but knew he failed. 

”She is my mate and Lady of Autumn.“ Eris replied, staring down the male in a way that had him squirming again. “You will address her as such even when she isn’t here.”

“Of course, Lord Eris. We’ve had a new Lady of Autumn now for almost three decades. She is very kind and capable. Arguably she does more work than she has to; I find that admirable.”

”I’ll pass on the compliment.” Eris ensured his tone conveyed the discussion was over. “Shall we continue?”

 Hurbert held up his fingers. ”Actually, Lord Eris-“

”You are testing my patience, Hurbert.” Eris could feel the flames growing in him. “If you want to flatter my mate you may do so on your own time.”

Despite the older male shrinking back in his chair, he continued. 

“My point is, we simply have some concerns.“ 

Azriel spoke before Eris could. ”And what might these concerns be?”

There was a moment of silence. Then Kelvin three seats to the left spoke up. He looked at Eris with a knowing smile and a glint in his eye. Eris trusted him- but the male was as messy as some of the females of the court when it came to gossip and knowing secrets.”

”I want it on record that I, myself, have no concerns High Lord.” 

Kelvin brushed back his short red hair. A signal to Eris that this topic had been discussed before without his presence. He felt his blood start to boil. 

“Nor do I.“ Dresden added. 

Elden, the second oldest male at the table, looked to be sweating nervously. He liked Elden, trusted him since he treated the tenants of his land and the lesser fae well even when his father was alive. He was staring at Hubert. 

“Hurbert, maybe this topic is best suited for a different time.’ He said softly. 

Hurbert turned red in the face. “We have been putting off this topic for thirty seven years.” He turned his round red face to Eris. “High Lord, you’ve been blessed with two bonds. Which is a sure sign that the Mother herself favors you. And yet-“

“Yet what?” Eris said each word slowly and with venom that had the governors closest to him pushing their chairs back.

“You don’t have an heir.” 

The fireplace, which had been empty, came to life behind him. 

“And what consequence is it to you?” Eris leaned back in his chair like a snake waiting to strike. “Carefully consider what words leave your mouth next, Lord Hurbert.”

”It is a valid concern.” He replied weakly. 

“I didn’t realize how I am fucking my mates were anyone's concern but my own.” 

That only seemed to fuel Hurbert’s frustrations. He spoke louder this time. 

“The Cauldron has blessed you with a female. A beautiful, court trained high fae mate.” The glass of water started to steam from the heat Eris began to radiate at his words. “Your mother had three children in the same time frame, and she was simply a wife. The concern is that The Lady’s endeavors may be too ambitious, that she has lost sight of her courtly duties.“ 

Azriel was on his feet, shadow whirling. His knife was already in his hand. “Watch your mouth.”

Hurbert rose to his own feet. Gone was the semblance of weakness he had with Eris. His face skewed into pure disgust as he looked at Azriel. 

“What would a low born Illryian understand about the importance of an heir?”

Eris stood as well. “You’re out of line Graham.” His High Lord voice boomed throughout the room. “This is the last warning I will give you. Silence yourself before I make you.”

Hurbert, somehow redder, looked at Eris with sneer. “Am I out of line? The truth is that so called Lady of Autumn slinks around the house fucking that animal where ever they please like a whore. 

He pointed to Azriel. Then he pointed to Eris. 

“Maybe it is you who has lost sight of the duties to this court, High Lord. If she spent half the time on your cock as she does his, you’d have an heir by now. Or do you plan to follow your father’s lead by letting another breed your wife instead.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“And then,” Eris paused for a moment. “I set him ablaze.”

Az watched you carefully the whole time Eris spoke. He was attuned to every subtle shift in your expression. He sent extra shadows to help keep you calm. But you were surprisingly a statue, still and enraptured with every word Eris spoke. 

“I do not remember much of it. I was too enraged to think.’ Eris continued, his tone turning cold. “He was a pile of ash in an instant. I then commanded everyone else to answer if they had so called concerns or comments about my mates. None of them did.” 

“If they had, they would have been mine to deal with,” Az muttered, more to himself than for you to hear. 

Eris sighed. “I did not want to tell you, love. But you are correct. You deserved to know.” 

You finally blinked, your face still expressionless as you tilted your head slightly. 

“Do you want a child?”

Az knew Eris paled without even looking at him. Children were not something they had discussed with you. Even worse, Az remembered when he and Eris talked about it. Eris had said he was actually thrilled his mate was a male. He didn’t want younglings- he didn’t want to risk becoming like his own father. Nothing Az said deterred him of that opinion.

Then they found you.

But Azriel also knew what you weren’t saying. You left the bond open. All your emotions bubbling under the surface were pushed to him. He could feel you question your own worth. That this is what the court really thought of you. He could envision your embarrassment at the comment that fae had made about you and himself. How people must whisper behind your back for how brazen you were. Az tried to push back his love for you even if it felt like it wasn’t working. 

“It isn’t about what I want,” Eris finally answered. 

“If the court wants an heir, should we not try to give them one?” you ask slowly.

Az felt his blood boiling. “It doesn’t matter what the court wants.”

“I am not a fool, Azriel.” You looked at him with so much sadness in your eyes. “If it is important to the citizens of Autumn, then as their Lady it is important to me.”

“It was one male,” Eris snapped. “A foolish one who clung to the rules of my father. This court doesn’t need an heir. Nor will anyone force you to carry one.” 

“But what if I wanted to?” You whispered. 

Az finally looked over to Eris. He was as pale as he expected. His gaze dropped to the hand around his drink- Az was shocked Eris hadn’t broken it yet. Eris didn’t reply and he felt you turn your gaze to him. 

“And you Az?”

“Out of the question.” He winced at himself for how harsh his tone was. And how you recoiled. “It’s too risky. There is half of a chance the babe would-“

His voice cracked and he swallowed back tears. Images of Feyre slowly dying flashed in his mind. He could hear Rhys’s screaming and a flash of Nyx, so tiny and unresponsive in Mor’s arms. 

He took a deep breath. 

“The baby could have wings. I won’t risk your life like that. I can’t do that to you.” 

A pause. Then you asked, “so neither of you want children?”

“Do you?” Eris asked. 

A mix of emotions flickered in the bond from you. 

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hands. “Not right now. But if neither of you want a baby then does it truly matter?” 

“It isn’t,” Eris paused again and took a long swing of his drink. He sighed. “I would need time. I am open to children but I would need time. I do not want my past to haunt my children.” 

“But if,” another flood of emotions came through from you. Feelings of worry about Azriel. 

“I would treat any child we have as my own,” Az said firmly. He pushed it through both bonds as well. “You are both my mates. A baby doesn’t have to be of my actual blood for me to love them. I mean that.” 

“Okay.” 

You stared down at your hands. Moments passed and the emotions from earlier resurfaced in the bond. 

“Does everyone really think I’m a whore?” You whispered and your face crumpled. 

“If they did, they would not be alive long enough for it to matter.” Eris’s words were sharp and venomous. “I commanded the governors in that room for a reason. That male said what he did because he thought he could get a rise out of me. But he forgot I am still a Vanserra and he suffered the consequences of that.” 

“He should have suffered more,” Az hissed. 

He was still just a little put out Eris didn’t allow him to end that male’s life. That male had undermined Azriel since the beginning. It was an honest surprise that it took him this long to say something that crossed the line for all of them. Az understood that Eris lost control, but it didn’t make it easier. 

“The people of this court adore you,” Eris said softly and drew Azriel out of his thoughts. “There is not a person in his House who thinks ill of you.”

“I know but,” you wiped your eyes and a laugh escaped you. “I probably have fucked you both in every room of this house.”

“Not every room,” Eris said. 

His statement broke the tension, you bursting into a laughing fit over it. When things settled he and Eris promised to not withhold information this severe again. You were right; you could handle it. Even if Eris and Az both felt you shouldn’t have to.

[queenofterrasen418]

Cruel Fates (Part 1)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Pure angst

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

He was looking at her again. The only time he didn’t look at her was to update Rhysand on his last mission. You tried your best not to look at him but somehow your eyes wandered back to him like a moth drawn to flame.

The meeting finished and everyone left except for you and Rhysand. 

“How long do you plan to continue this?” he asked, worry coated his words.

“I don’t know, as long it takes.” your gaze was focused on the golden sunlight that poured from his window

“From what I see it looks like forever.” he placed a hand on her shoulder, “And forever is a long time, Y/N”

“What do you think I can do?” you said finally looking at him. You wished ignoring the feeling long enough would make it disappear.

“He’ll want to know. Tell him, we all saw what happened to Feyre and me” Rhys was the only person you told about this. He was the older brother you could confide in anytime.

“Feyre wasn’t in love with someone else.” At this point, you were not sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

“Azriel is your mate.”

“And he thinks the cauldron made a mistake with Lucian and Elain. He thinks Elain should be his mate. Not me. He barely looks at me that way Rhys.”

Rhys shook his head and sighed.

“I don’t know why we are having the same conversation for the hundredth time. I told you before and I'll tell you again, I am not going to say anything to Azriel. If I do it’ll ruin everything I already have with him.”

“I know have you at least tried to hint at him?”

“No. And I won’t besides Elain is happy when she is with him and that makes Feyre happy. I can’t do that to her Rhys. She has enough to worry about already.”

Rhys just looked at you as if you were some weird puzzle.

“Both of us know those are just partial reasons. You can’t bring yourself to tell him but my question is why."

He held my stare as he repeated, "why Y/N?”

You let out an exasperated sigh, “Because I am afraid he won’t like me. I am afraid yet another person who I like will tell me that they don’t see me the same way. I am tired of this, Rhys. Unless he realizes I can’t do anything. Maybe the cauldron was indeed mistaken.” 

With that, you just walked out of the room.

Next part

[crumbledcastle28]

SJM Masterlist

Azriel Shadowsinger

I'll Be Fine

Welcome Back *SMUT*

Dance with Me

Book Worm

On the Floor *SMUT*

Good Morning *SMUT*

Taken

Wingspan *SMUT*

Keep Talking

Worst Fear - Worst Nightmare

Test Me

Nervous

Not Tonight *SMUT*

Young God

Sex Habits *SMUT*

Inertia

Unexpected

Let Go *SMUT*

Limping Home *SMUT*

Ruhn Danaan

Personal

Sweet Relief *SMUT*

Rowan Whitethorn

Mine

[daycourtofficial]

Love Potion No. 9

Summary: Azriel returns from a mission and can’t seem to keep his hands off of you.

Author’s note: happy halloween! I thought a fun love potion theme would be so cute and fun!

(Part 2)

Can you come into Azriel’s room?

Rhysand’s request permeates your thoughts. You rise from your spot on the couch, placing a marker in the book you’re halfway through. You pad down the hallway, passing Mor, who gives you a soft smile.

You reach Azriel’s door, knocking softly before letting yourself in. You walk over to Azriel, who’s sitting on his bed with Cassian and Rhys standing facing him.

Rhys made these visits mandatory after Azriel went on three back to back missions and no one realized he hadn’t slept for 6 days until he winnowed in the dining room instead of his room, crashing on the table. Since that happened, Rhys has been making you, their healer, check on everyone post mission.

“Hi Az,” you say, stepping up to him.

“Sweetheart! Hi!” He says, putting his arms around you, enveloping you immediately.

You give Cassian a confused look. The two of you were exceptionally flirty and spent all of your time together, but Azriel was only this touchy when on the rare occasion he allowed himself to get drunk. He especially was never this touchy in front of his brothers.

You wrap your arms around him as he tucks his head into the crook of your shoulder. “Can I check you out, look you over?”

“Baby, you can do much more than that.”

Your cheeks heat immediately, but you don’t address it. You assess him for injuries, which you found none. As you’re assessing, he keeps his hands in a loose circle around your waist, trying to touch as much of you as he can while you’re working.

“Okay, Azriel, I didn’t find any injuries, are you in any pain?”

“I was, actually, in a lot of pain earlier.”

You stop, holding hand as you ask, “what happened?”

He looks down at his feet, thinking about whatever had caused his pain, as he says, “we were apart for several days.”

You roll your eyes, unsure of what has brought this on from him.

“Can you follow my fingers with your eyes?”

You hold up your pointer finger from each hand, holding them in front of his face, as you begin moving your left hand in the left direction. He does as you ask, following your hand, but as you start moving your fingers, you feel his hands slither down to cup your ass.

You hear Cassian try not to laugh.

“Did you ingest anything that you didn’t pack while you were gone?”

He sighs dreamily, “the only thing I want to put my mouth on is you.”

Your jaw drops, but Azriel doesn’t notice. He just starts playing with the ends of your hair, muttering about pretty your hair is when it’s loose.

“Did you have any problems winnowing?” You ask, trying desperately to keep this professional and to get through this check up. You half forgot that Cassian and Rhys are still here, if it weren’t for the occasional giggles from them.

“Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’. He rests his hands on your waist, not looking away from your face. “Just thought of home, and you showed up. I don’t think that’s a coincidence.” He states, winking very over dramatically at you.

You see his canteen, and ask, “may I?”

“Everything I have is yours, sweets.”

Cassian’s snort escapes without his permission.

You grab his canteen of water, screwing off the cap and sniffing it.

“Can I see you two out in the hallway?” At the mention of leaving him, Azriel pouts, his hands tightening around your waist. He starts to speak, but you cut him off, “I promise I’ll be right back.”

That response somewhat appeases him, and after Azriel untangles himself from you, not without a ton of huffs from him, the three of you step out into the hallway. You extend Azriel’s canteen with the lid screwed off out to them. “Smell this, what do you smell?”

Cassian takes a whiff, as does Rhysand.

“It smells like the air in the clouds, like,” Rhys takes another sniff, “like the soap Feyre loves. And clean sheets.”

Cassian smells it, “it smells like strawberries and sex.”

You chuckle before starting, “this is a love potion. Someone has drugged our shadowsinger.”

“But he was fine until he saw you - wouldn’t a love potion make him fall in love with who he saw first?” Cassian gasps, “I saw him first! It should be me,” almost offended Azriel wasn’t hanging off of him like he was you.

You laugh, “no, Cass. Love potions can have a certain person in mind, but you have to be an incredibly talented potionmaster to brew such a concoction.” You blush a little before continuing, “most love potions can only exacerbate feelings that are already there. Hence why I had you two smell it - it smells differently to you two. If it was brewed for a certain person, it would smell like them.”

Rhys looks at you, a mischievous grin showing on his lips, “you didn’t tell us what you smell.”

Your blush deepened even further, “it smells like books,” you sigh, looking at your feet, “and like Azriel’s cologne, which is why I couldn’t smell it on him and asked you two to smell it.”

Cassian wolf whistles and you hit his arm, “shut up.”

“Should we be worried? How long will the potion last?” Rhys asks, changing the topic for a moment.

“They usually only last for 12 hours. Supposedly it is all encompassing. I’ve never seen anyone take it before, so I’m not sure what to expect.”

The two brothers look at each other and grin. “Oh no, poor Az. Being looked after by our beautiful healer for twelve uninterrupted hours. However will he cope?” Rhys’s signature smirk stretching his face.

“Rhysand, if you’re insinuating I’d ever take advantage of a patient under the influence of a love potion, you’d be gravely mistaken.”

“Well, I didn’t see you exactly prying his hands off your ass, now did I?”

Cassian mutters under his breath, “I’m sure Azriel can find it in his heart to forgive you if you took advantage.”

You roll your eyes so hard you’re concerned they might actually get stuck. The two bats turn to leave, deciding they’ve teased you enough for now. Cassian turns around, making kissing noises at you as they disappear down the hall.

When Rhys and Cass are out of earshot, Cassian tells his high lord, “you owe me 50 gold marks.”

Rhys scoffs, “you owe me 100 gold marks for the love potion.”

Cassian rolls his eyes, “call it even?”

[writingsbychlo]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | (05)

summary; azriel is away on a mission, and you get an unexpected visitor. when he returns, you also get an unexpected surprise.

word count; 5988

notes; fun fact!! I got confused about which part I was on because I actually forgot all about the events of this part and started writing for part six before realising!! also the way this is months late... my bad, y’all. 

Slumping a little further in the plush seat, your eyes scanned across the page before you for the fourth time. Finally, you’d settled on a book, after procrastinating it all morning. Then, you’d put it off with the excuse of cooking breakfast and eating, making a cup of tea… and then another. 

The house felt too big, too quiet, too light without shadows crawling in every corner. 

Azriel had been gone since yesterday morning, your first overnight alone without him as he did Cauldron knew what, Cauldron knows where, out in the world. He’d left early yesterday morning while you had still been asleep, waking you with a hand shaking your shoulder gently before the sun had even risen. Dressed in those same dark leathers, strapped head-to-toe with weapons, he’d mumbled about some sudden work from Rhys, and that explanation, along with a delicate kiss on your forehead, had been all you’d gotten. 

It had half felt like some kind of odd dream, until you’d woken up, and the house had been far too still without his presence. 

He was due back tonight, and you were holding onto that, attempting to focus back on your book. Three hours. Only forty pages in. 

You’d hardly made it two more pages, before there were footsteps on the creaky porch, your heart rate shooting through the roof, and a knock. A knock. Azriel wouldn't knock on his own front door. Matter of fact, Azriel would have likely just winnowed right to the door, not walked up the porch. 

On light steps, hoping whoever was on the other side couldn't hear you, you peeked up through the hole in the door, noting Elain standing on the other side. You barely knew her, recognising her only from the first dinner you’d shared with Azriel’s family, heart leaping into your throat at the sight of her. 

Clicking the door open after only a second or two of hesitation, she offered a beaming smile when your eyes met. 

“Hello, Elain.”

“You remember my name!” Her smile somehow only stretched wider, and it was like the sun itself seemed to get brighter as she did. You wanted to scoff. Did it just do that, or was Lucien out there somewhere, glowing every time she smiled? 

“Uh… Azriel isn’t here.”

“I know.” She waved a hand, as though that was supposed to be obvious in some way, following it up with a giggle. You wracked your brain, stumbling over every piece of information Azriel had given you on them all over the last couple of weeks. Seer. Elain was a seer. Had she seen Azriel leave and chosen this moment to approach you? “I’m here to see you.”

Apparently so. “Why?”

“I was thinking we could go for a walk in the public gardens together.”

“Why?” The word spilt out again, and she laughed, cocking her head to the side. “I’m, sorry, I don’t— I don’t mean to sound so rude. This situation is just unexpected, that’s all.”

“I know. I would have come sooner, but I was waiting for Azriel to be gone because he’s been playing defence about who gets to see you and when. He growled at Rhysand last week for asking how things were going.” Your stomach flipped at that, flopping in on itself and you rubbed a hand over your ribs slowly, hoping to steady the beating of your heart. “I’m not here for Rhysand, just to be clear. I’m not here for anyone, not even Az. I’m here for me, because I’d like to get to know you.”

“You want to get to know me?”

“Of course. You’re going to be around for a while—”

“I am?” She merely hummed, brows raising a little as humour shone in those doe-eyes, and your cheeks heated. “Seer, right. Of course. Do you want to come in for lunch or something, then?”

“I was thinking we could go for a picnic.” Nudging one delicately slippered foot out from under the hem of her dress, she nudged a picnic basket at her feet with her toes, and you shifted nervously from foot to foot. “It’s a nice day, and the Velaris Gardens are just beautiful. I volunteer sometimes, and I must say, the flowers this year are breathtaking.”

“Alright,” She was like a puppy, someone you just couldn't say no to when she stared at you with those big brown eyes, only seeming to light up more when you finally agreed. Leaving her standing on the porch for no more than a few minutes, you marked the page in your book, swapped out your loungewear for a summer dress and some sandals, and grabbed your keys. 

She had been right, the two of you were barely more than a few steps down the sidewalks before the golden rays of the sun truly began to soak into your skin, warming you. It was a lovely day. Hopefully, the sun was shining on Azriel too, wherever he was.

The streets of Velaris were crowded as the pair of you ventured closer to the busier parts of the city, your workplace was packed full, the tables outside almost overflowing, and one of the waitresses you’d come to know waved as you passed by, flustered and carrying a tray of drinks. 

Children were playing in the streets, darting from one side to another. Adults were wandering, lovers arm in arms, and friends gossiping. Here you were, wandering alongside Elain, who was humming a tune gently to herself under her breath. Only once you had entered the gardens, the kind old man at the front gate greeting Elain with a smile and a hug, did she speak up once again. 

Her tune came to an end as the two of you were walking down the main pathway, weeping willows curtaining on either side, birds chirping overhead and fluttering between branches in the trees. 

“I'm happy Azriel has you, you know.”

“You might be the only one.” Your words were bitter, harsh, and you wanted to bite them back in, still not entirely sure where you stood with Elain or to what extent you could trust her, but she only laughed again. “Apologies, that was…”

“Don’t worry.” That casual hand wave again, the metal bracelets on her wrist clinking as she did. One held a sun, another with a moon, a third gold band with an orange gem, and a fourth with a metal tag on a leather band, an engraving too small to make out. “Although, it’s not true. Nesta talks very fondly of you, and while Feyre might not speak up as often, she does not approve of the way Rhysand treats you.”

“Nesta is great. I shouldn’t have said that. And of course, I was out of turn to imply anything at all about the High Lord and Lady. I do—”

“Please, none of those formalities.” She stopped suddenly at the end of the pathway, aiming to turn neither left nor right, but instead stepping out onto the large field before you both, wildflowers cropping up, wandering across the soft ground and leaving you to trail through the grass behind her. “Rhysand can be a stubborn arse when he chooses to be, and Cassian is merely being bull-headed. Mor could be a swaying hand if she chose to, but she’s actively staying out of it, to let things play out on their own. Amren is… well, Amren.”

She had managed to coax a laugh from you, despite your wary mood, and she seemed to stand a little taller at the triumph. Finally finding a spot she liked and placing the basket down, Elain opened it up to pull out a blanket, flapping it out into the light breeze and laying it on the ground slowly. She sat on it, patting the space beside her for you to sit on, and opening the basket only when you had. 

“I brought several sandwiches, because I wasn’t sure which you’d enjoy.” She began to unstack each labelled and wrapped meal portion, laying them out around you both until the blanket was covered in food and treats, a wine glass in your hand as Elain filled it with bubbling grape juice. “I try not to drink as much these days.”

It seemed the two of you had moved on from whatever conversation you’d been having, and no matter how much you wanted to circle back around to it, it felt rude to do so when she was clearly leading the chat. She was rubbing a hand over her stomach with contemplation, and you swirled the bubbly drink in your glass. “Are you… are you trying for a baby?”

Her hair glinted in the sun as she tipped her head back, eyes closed and smiling at the sky. “We’re thinking about it. Nothing concrete yet, but, I know Lucien desires children. I do too. We aren’t putting any kind of timeframes on anything, but we’re getting into some good habits and lifestyle changes now.”

“I wish you both the best of luck,” 

She only hummed, again, a contemplative sound that seemed so wrapped up in mysterious and knowledge that it made your skin itch. To distract yourself, you took a sip of your drink, eyes scanning over the food options before you as she sighed and pulled herself back from whatever thoughts she had lost herself in. “My happiness with my mate now is so much due to Azriel.”

It was like a ball, bouncing back and forth between the walls, getting faster and faster as she whipped from the topic of Azriel to anything else, like she couldn't decide between acknowledging the elephant in the room or ignoring it. 

“I’m happy he has you.”

“So you’ve said.” You smirk, settling on a sandwich at last and unwrapping it. 

“There was a while when I thought I might be his happy ending, and he might be mine.” Your chewing slowed, and your focus fixed on her. You weren’t sure why she was saying these things, revealing things about his past or her own, whether it was some kind of game or not. She seemed to read all of this on your face, sitting up more fully to face you, legs crossing before her. “He never fought for me the same way he fights for you, though. Like he can’t help himself. What we had was hidden away and sneaking around in the dark. It was wrong for us both, I see that in hindsight, but with you, he doesn’t hide you. It’s like he wants the whole world to know you’re at his side.”

The food was like trying to swallow a mouthful of cottonwool, choking it down dry and wincing. “I don’t think what we have is the same. What you had must’ve been… well, like a real relationship. You do understand what me and Az have is more like an agreement, right?”

“Are all relationships not just agreements to be together, monogamously?”

You sipped at your drink, buying time to find a reply as she tucked into her own food, surely knowing she’d won this round. “Relationships are different.”

“In what way?”

“In every way!” You said, and she still only managed to look mildly amused, waiting for you to go on. “Relationships shouldn’t start the way ours did, for the intent of mutual benefit and gain. They’re supposed to be about passion and feelings and connection.”

“And do you not have passion, or feelings, for Azriel? Is there no connection?”

“What we have is complicated.” You didn’t know how to define it at all, everything that was shifting and changing so thoroughly was enough to make your head spin, and her mumble only confirmed that she knew she had the upper hand here. “How did Azriel help you to find Lucien if you were… together?”

“Oh, no, we were never together. We snuck around at night and shared heated looks across the dining room table. I wanted to choose my own path for once, not the one everyone was telling me I should be on. The one that led to Lucien. And Azriel, well, he just wanted someone. I wasn’t the right someone, I was just there.” That didn’t answer your question, not at all, but it seemed that if you were going to get the reply you wanted, it was in return for listening to the whole story. “We had stolen moments in dark corners, and Rhysand warned us off one another, put a stop to what likely would have ended in tragedy.”

“Seems like the High Lord is fond of telling Azriel who he can and cannot be with.”

“He had a sister once, you know.” The words struck cold, and you stiffened. Of course, you knew. Everyone in Prythian knew. Had heard of the tragedy before the first war, when the Lord of Night had lost his wife and daughter, leaving only the Prince who would soon take the throne. “She fell in love with someone who she shouldn’t have, someone who betrayed her in the end,”

“Should you be telling me this?”

“—and it broke him for so long. I had no idea about any of this until Feyre told me. He watched his sister get her heart broken before she lost her life, and watched his mate fall for Tamlin and get hurt. He watched Mor hide such an important part of herself and get hurt for centuries. He even watched Lucien pine for me while I was too blind to see him. He has watched love break and harm over the years, watched people abuse those feelings and use them for their own gain. He knows that need for touch more than anyone, and knows the price companionship can cost.”

“Elain,” The food was beginning to taste like ash, this was becoming more of a petition than a chat. “I understand that. I know he’s suffered too, I know he’s felt pain, and I’m sorry for that. But that doesn’t excuse him for his cruelty. It doesn’t excuse him for stopping Azriel from finding happiness. He cannot control everyone around him, no matter whether his intentions are good or not. Other people’s happiness is not his responsibility, and not his right. What, only mates are allowed to be together? Do you know how rare it is to find your mate? Azriel has waited five hundred years, he may never find his mate, but does that mean he should never be allowed to know happiness because Rhysand decrees it?”

She stared at you, lips pursed for a long moment, considering all that you had said. And then, instead of getting angry, or yelling, or defending them further, she smiled. She nodded her head and something passed over her face that you couldn't possibly decipher. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Azriel would have fought for me, if I had asked him to. I’m sure I could have put up a fuss about it, but when he was told to stop, he did. That rejection…”

“Led you to Lucien?”

“Gods, no. It made me so angry. Azriel just rolled over and showed his belly because Rhysand snarled. I was mad, beyond words!” Your laughter broke free, surprising you both, until you were laughing together amongst the flowers. “He would barely look at me, wouldn't talk to me at all if not for polite dinner conversation. I’d gone from someone he’d feel up in dark corners to acting like I had a disease!”

“That’s awful!”

“I know! So, I wanted out. I was so stifled. I managed to persuade Rhysand to send me to the Human Lands for a while, to track down some information. Except, of course, I couldn't go alone. I needed an escort, and who better than the Emissary to the Human Lands?”

“This was Lucien?”

“Mhm.” She rolled her eyes, slipping away into her memories, a smile forming on her face. “Gods, he drove me insane. He was there all the time when I’d just been pulled from the Cauldron, like a lost puppy. So full of adoration and love. I was expecting that, but that’s not the Lucien who showed up. The one who showed up was so… nonchalant. Like the bond between us didn’t exist, we were friends, more like mere partners on a task. I even made a drunken move on him one night in a gross tavern far from The Wall, and he turned me down! Put me to bed and left a glass of water on the nightstand for me. Acted like it never happened in the morning.”

“Oh, Gods…” Your snicker bought you a mock glare from the flowery female beside you.

“I was even angrier, then. It was like nobody wanted me! So, when I returned, I gave Azriel a piece of my mind. And he let me yell at him for twenty minutes. And then awkwardly held me while I cried for another twenty.”

“Does this story have a happy ending? Well, I guess I know it does,” You offered her stomach a pointed look, “But when do we get there?”

“Fine, fine,” She rolled her own eyes now, “To keep it short, Azriel then offered to help me with Lucien. Managed to trick Lucien into going on our first date, a blind-date set-up, and wouldn't let him leave when he tried to. He then continued to help me sneak around with Lucien behind everybody’s backs, until we were ready to come out with it.”

“When was that?”

“Two weeks before we got married.” You fell to your back, laughter like light spilling from you at that, and she continued to share the details of everyone’s reactions through giggles of her own. “I’d seen all their responses, and I wanted to avoid them as long as possible! That was the last time I ignored my visions to try and put them off. What I see will happen, it's only a matter of time. I can’t avoid it.”

“That must suck for surprise parties and gifts.”

“Maybe, but it was pretty good to see you coming.” She smiled, laying herself down beside you and staring up at the sky overhead. “We will be good friends, you and I. I’ve seen that too.”

You were preparing dinner when you finally heard Azriel arrive. The scuff of his boots on the porch, the rustle of his wings as he entered the house, and then—

Then the slam of the front door. So loud and violent that the house shook a little, trembling the trinkets in the hall that sat on the side unit. You tensed, hearing his loud huff of frustration. Shadows whipped and whirled through the house, a few even making it as far as you were in the kitchen, and you followed them, peeping around the threshold before they were all snapped back in a hurry to their owner. 

You saw his retreating back, stomping up the stairs of the house, tense lines and rigid muscles, disappearing in a dark cloud from sight. Another slam made you jump, one of the upstairs doors closing with a bang. 

Silence filled the house once again, far heavier and more tense than it previously had been, and you worried your lower lip between your teeth. 

It didn't feel like you were welcome, like perhaps this was a moment you shouldn't intrude on. But, was this not part of the reason that Azriel had brought you here in the first place? To comfort him, and be his support?

Minutes ticked by as you contemplated the matter, before deciding that at least checking in on him couldn't hurt. If he wanted alone time, he’d say that, and you’d happily give it to him. The idea of leaving him alone in his suffering created a phantom pain in your chest, spurring you up the stairs and on a search for him. 

He wasn’t hard to find, darkness flicking around the doorway of the office, idle shadows striking like dark lightning bolts in the air as you opened the door, only to find Azriel hunched over his desk, wings tense behind his body. 

“Hi, Az. It’s good to have you home.”

He only murmured, a vague noise, not even lifting his head from his work as you stood in the doorway. You paced a little further inside, standing by his desk, hoping to catch a glance of those pretty caramel eyes, but he kept his head down. His pen never stopped moving across the paper, his shadows never stopped their stormy swirling. 

“I’m going to start making dinner soon, if you want to come down?” He didn’t reply, just a grunt, and you gave up, despite the worry filling you from head to toe. “Alright, well, you know where to find me.”

With that, you left, a pulse of power following you from the room within as soon as you clicked the door shut, back pressed to the wood on the other side. With a couple of deep breaths, you steadied yourself. It was only a matter of time before something came up, everything had been going too smoothly, too perfectly to last. Azriel was bound to snap under all that pressure at some point, and if this was that snap, you could handle it. 

Setting a chicken off to roast only took a couple of minutes, basted and seasoned and into the oven, enough of a distraction to pull your thoughts away from the warrior upstairs. It was as you were chopping vegetables that your mind wandered back, the mind-numbing task of slicing peppers and carrots made it easy for your thoughts to trail back to Azriel.

Still, he had not emerged. Not for food, or water, or even some space from that office. 

Setting the table didn’t help to distract you either, laying down plates and cutlery and glasses, choosing a bottle of wine and setting it out to air, even going so far as to set down some candles, searching for matches to light them. The house was all but vibrating with power not, steady thumps that occasionally jostled the cutlery on the table with powerful bursts. 

Whatever had happened today had Azriel so riled up that his power was all but leaking out, siphons doing little to control the feelings welling inside him now. You’d never known the true strength of his power. Of course, you’d heard of the High Lord’s brothers, the spymaster and the warlord, the three champions of a lethal death-match among young soldiers, who’d come out bonded stronger than ever, with power to match. 

Never, though, did you expect to feel the power like this. Feel his emotions ricocheting off of every wall, bouncing through the foundations of the house. Suddenly, it dawned on you just how mighty the ranks of the Night Court truly were, a chill settling into your bones at the thought.

One bad mod, one temper tantrum, and the building could simply crumble to dust. Street lamps would flicker, and animals would scatter. Too many thoughts, too much and all of it became overwhelming as the house continued to tremble to the steady pattern of a heartbeat. 

Blowing out the candles as the flames flickered precariously once again, you put them away, not daring to risk them tipping over and creating a far worse problem. You knew the scars on Azriel’s hands, he’d told you the story behind them on one of the many nights the two of you had lay in bed, wrapped in one another’s arms, seeking comfort. 

Or perhaps, it had been during stolen moments in the café, when Azriel would come to visit you, sitting and doing his work at one of the tables in the back. He’d take a break only when you’d bring him a fresh pot of tea and a pastry, sit across his lap and talk in hushed whispers during the quieter parts of your shifts before you had to get back to work. 

It could even have been one of your late-night walks, or early-morning strolls, while the streets of Velaris were quiet and mist-kissed. Your hands clasped together tightly, his wing shielding around you as you walked together, talking of everything and anything that came to mind. 

He’d told you quiet stories of his past, of his present, of his hopes for the future. All about little baby Nyx, Nesta and her journey to finding the Valkyries, what it had been like growing up in the camps, or all the best little villages and towns he’d visited on his worldly travels. 

Your heart had been doing crazy things, lately. Crazy, stupid things, like skipping a beat and speeding up and bursting with adoration for a man so new to your life. It did crazy things, like encourage you back up the stairs an hour later, to ignore the tremble in your hands or the wobble in your step, heart calling out to him. 

You’d tried to ignore the urge. To sit and read your book, until you’d read the same line over and over while not absorbing a single word, and giving up with a frustrated huff. You re-basted the chicken, and added the vegetables to cook, and even set off some potatoes to boil but all the while, as your body worked, your mind and heart lay with him. 

This time, you knocked as you entered, knuckles a soft rap on the door before you pushed it open. Magic thrummed through the air, calling you closer and pushing you away, and you found Azriel, still in the same uncomfortable position, working at his desk. His shoulders were locked and rigid, his head hung, hair messy from constant tangling, and you lifted a hand, brushing it slowly through his hair. 

“Azriel…”

He barely even acknowledged you, nothing more than a grunt tossed in your direction as you stood by his side, and a sigh broke free from you. His lips were turned down in a frown, dragging all of his pretty features into misery too, and you hated to see this side of him. Hooking your fingers under his chin, his writing came to a stop as you forced his head to turn, to look up at you. His eyes were dull, a spark of irritation and anger bursting through them as recognition and consciousness flashed back into his lifeless form. 

“Azriel.”

This time, a growl tore free, that frown becoming a snarl as he pulled back, gaze narrowing a little. “I’m fucking working. What do you want?”

You froze, staring at him, taking in the exhaustion under his eyes, the pain in his stance, the spinning thoughts you could practically see surrounding him, so much so it must be dizzying and painful. Dropping your hand back to your side, he only returned to work, not sparing you another thought as he chased to catch up with the ones already running him ragged in his head. 

Silently walking away, you left his door open, hurrying away from the scene and back to the kitchen. Taking the kettle in trembling hands and filling it up, you set that to boil too, a mug from the cupboard clacking as you set it down on the counter, throwing open the doors to the tea cupboard soon after. 

Your nervous fingers skimmed across the labels, searching the front of each one, and it was as you were holding two, undecided on which to choose— perhaps just brew them together?— that the air in the room shifted, and a pair of strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist, tugging you back into a solid chest. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled, face tucking into the crook of your neck, where he left a kiss to your skin. His hold tightened, squeezing you against his body as he slumped down into you. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, Az.” You ran a hand along his forearm, banded around your body, feeling it loosen just a fraction as you squeezed. “I’m just so worried about you, I wanted to make you some tea to help, but I couldn't decide which one.”

At that, a whine slipped free from him, nuzzling deeper into your neck, another kiss, and another. Putting down the teas on the counter, you wiggled a little, managing to get him to loosen up just enough to turn in his arms. His forehead came to rest on your own, noses brushing, a sad frown on his lips as his eyes remained closed. 

“Az…”

“No more work. If I’m stressed to the point of snapping at you, then it’s too much. I’m sorry. You were just trying to help, and clearly, I needed the help.”

Looping your arms around his neck, he sighed, a happier sound as you scratched at the nape of his neck soothingly. “Stop apologising, Azriel. I appreciate it, but it’s unnecessary. I’m not angry at you, just concerned.”

“I like that you worry about me.” He whispered, deep voice running like honey as he bent enough to pick you up behind the backs of your legs, spinning you to place you onto the kitchen counter, and step comfortably between your thighs. “But you don’t deserve that kind of treatment. You deserve better. I don’t deserve you, but I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Az. I wouldn't be in this relationship if I was going to run. I can handle you, even when you’re not at your best.”

He only answered with a shaky laugh, hands smoothing up your thighs to sit on your hips, squeezing in a series of happy pulses. “We’re in a relationship?”

Elation was clear on his face, no denying it, at your choice of words, and you gave a little chuckle of your own, nodding against him as your noses came back to brushing together, heads resting on one another. Your conversation with Elain flickered through your mind once again, and you wondered if she had seen this, seen you give into her whims and silently admit she was right. If she’d seen this, you hope she picked up on your mental scowl, too. “Well, what would you call what we have?”

“I like ‘relationship’. I like it a lot, actually.”

Throwing your arms over his shoulders, they looped around his neck, and you pushed your face up a little closer to him. “We may not be conventional, Az, but I like what we have. I like our relationship. I think we’re perfect as we are.”

He didn’t need words to respond, not this time, not as his mouth sealed over your own in a gentle, tender kiss. The first kiss you’d ever shared, a timid one, his lips working slowly and cautiously over yours, giving you plenty of time to pull away. 

You didn’t want to, kissing him back with just as much tenderness and affection as he was showing you, pouring every feeling you had into it, to make sure he knew just how much you cared. Your heart was beating hard, fast, racing like a drum under your ribcage as you melted into his touch. One scarred hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb smoothing across your skin, in tandem with every stroke of his lips. 

You pulled back for breath, just to find yourself tangled back up in him, his tongue stroking across your lower lip, teasing the roof of your mouth as you opened up for him. A groan skittered across your tongue from him, a pant for breath, his hand slipping up under your shirt to sit on your bare waist as you tugged on the slight curls of his hair. 

When he pulled back, at last, your lips were swollen, your lungs burning in the best way possible, and your head was spinning so much you could barely focus. The world felt fuzzy at your touch, glowing and glittering as you stole a final kiss from his lips, his soft chuckle breaking it. 

“Am I still invited for dinner with you?”

“Yes. I’m making chicken and potatoes.” Your smile lasted only a second, before you were sitting upright. Time had melted away around you, disappearing into dusk outside beyond the windows, “Oh, no, the potatoes!”

Pushing him back and hopping down from the counter, he watched with a dazed, kiss-drunk expression as you rushed to the stove, taking off the pan lid and prodding at the potatoes with a fork. 

“I amend my earlier statement. We’re having chicken and mashed potatoes, because these have gone soft. Entirely your fault for distracting me.”

“I distracted you?” He mused, sneaking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, tugging you back to kiss at your cheeks, trailing down toward your mouth. 

“You know you did.” His only response was a smile. Draining the potatoes was a challenge, what with Azriel plastered to your back like a new limb that served no purpose, and you had to elbow him off in order to finish the food. 

While he waited, he tinkered with the dining room table, pouring two glasses of wine and rearranging. When you turned, he’d dug out the candles you’d put away, lighting them with a match once again, and blushing as he laid them out. “I thought they’d be romantic.”

“I like them.” Your cheeks were equally as heated, smiling to yourself as you turned away to check the food. 

His distance didn’t last long, as you searched for a knife with which to carve the chicken, he was once again backing you into a counter, his mouth hungrily descending upon your own. Mutters of ‘waiting long enough’ silenced on your mouth as he dove into you, hands on your body once again, trying to tempt you up onto the counter. 

“Let me cook, you menace,”

“Just a few more,” Was his barter, and those few kisses passed more and more time, his lips like a high you had to chase, until only the desperate urge to breathe could pull you apart. “Gods, I love that. I love kissing you.”

“I can tell.”

He rolled his eyes, but his smirk stayed, unashamed of his newfound addiction. 

“We need to eat, you need food.”

“I have everything I need, right here.” He leaned in again, lips puckered, and you tipped your head his mouth finding the edge of your jaw, and he grunted unhappily at the action, but mouthed at your skin nonetheless.

“How about after dinner, we can go upstairs and do some self-care. I’ll show you all the fancy new creams and skincare I got. We can relax, and cuddle, and read.”

“And there will be more kisses?”

“There will most definitely be more kisses.” You promised, cupping his face and bringing him back for a final peck. 

“Then I think I can agree to those terms.” He stared, pulling back just enough to fully take you in. As the urgency in his expression died down with the promise that this affection was not a one-time deal, his face took on blissfulness instead. Running his knuckles across your cheek, his face softened even further as you leaned into his touch, cupping his hand and pressing kisses to his scarred fingers. “You… You are my moon, do you know that? You light up even the darkest parts of life for me.”

His words were like whispered oaths, something too heavy for you to fully comprehend but burned into your mind regardless, and you gave him a sweet smile back. “You are my stars, Azriel.”

“Really?”

“Every last one. Glittering and perfect in the night, full of mystery and hopes and stories. You are my favourite part of the night sky.”

Your heads rested together, dinner temporarily forgotten just for another moment or so, to bask in the revelations of the evening. 

Today, 

today changed everything for the better.

[mrs-elsie-barnes]

Welcome Home | Azriel x Cassian x Female Reader | One shot 3k

After a mission away your bat boys return to the comfort of home and their beautiful mate. The three of you have a lot of catching up to do, but first, a bath.

Warnings: 18+ sexual content & language, slight d/s themes, pet names, dirty talk, wing play,p in v, anal, dp, bath sex, shower sex.

Divider by @firefly-graphics & @reveriesources

Cassian - Can Yaman, Azriel - Avan Jojia images from Getty.

Created for @polyacotarweek prompt 2 - comfort

Masterlist | Poly Fics | Azriel | Cassian

Azriel and Cassian had been gone for a week this time, somewhere unknown, they had left from the roof of the House of Wind, their Illyrian leathers freshly polished.

You’d waved them off, tears in your eyes, unsure of when you would see your.boys again. 

But tonight was the night, as the candles that decked the corridors of the House had extinguished behind you, swirling shadows had tangled at your feet, whispering to you. Now it wouldn't be long until their Master was beside you as well. 

The clock on the mantle ticked around to 3am when Cassian finally cracked open the door to your rooms. Slowly, inching into the dark room, his wings caught on the door as they dragged tiredly behind him. 

Azriel followed, dropping his own pack to the floor and kicking off his boots as quietly as possible. 

“Sweetheart?” Cassian called softly, while Azriel’s shadows spread out, disappearing into the gloom in search of you. 

Creeping up the side of the chaise like ivy, they reached your shoulder and curled around your ear, tickling you awake. 

You'd tried to stay awake, slumped on the sofa, waiting for them, until sleep overtook you, lulling you down into the crouched position they found you in now, curled in on yourself. 

“Boys?” you mumbled, sleep still clinging to you even as you tried to drag your eyes open, “You’re home.”

Cassian smiled, kneeling in front of you and cupping your cheeks in his hands and kissing you on the forehead. “We’re home, sweetheart, all in one piece.” 

“Are you hurt? Do you need anything?” Your brain slowly kicked into gear, worry clouding your joy at the General’s return, hands running up his arms to feel for any bandages. “Is Azriel with you?” 

“I’m here, baby, and we’re safe and well.” He ran a hand up your bare arm and then kissed you too, quickly and chastly before pulling back to run his eyes over you, checking that you too were well, fed and happy. 

“Good, my boys,” you reached both hands out, touching their cheeks in turn and pulling them to you, “are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“We’re just dusty and muddy. I could do with a wash and I really want to kiss you again right now.” Cassian laughed, sitting back on his heels so he could look at you properly. 

His head was heavy with what looked like caked mud, his usual long waves weighed down in limp grey tendrils around his face. Even the little lines of his cheeks and eyes seemed to be picked out with it. You leaned down, your lips fitting against his perfectly, as if you were made to kiss each other forever. Despite his clothes and the dust settling on the carpet, his lips were soft as they moved over yours, picking up where he left off when you said goodbye.

Azriel hadn’t fared any better, but he was quietly watching you, those hazel eyes of his roving over your own body, making sure you were safe too. 

Reluctantly, you pulled away. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” You sat up, pushing your blanket to the floor. Cassian kicked it away and Azriel scooped you up into his arms.

You ran your hands into his hair, picking out debris with a laugh. Even their leathers was filthy, the white dust of limestone shining against the pitch black leather.

“What happened to you?” You lay your head against his shoulder and began fiddling with the straps of his armour as he led the way to the large bathing room. 

“Best not to ask,” Cassian grumbled, “Blame Lucien if you have to blame someone, setting fires and cracking walls. We all got showered in it. You can imagine how upset Rhys is!” He chuckled. 

You giggled too, remembering Rhy’s face the last time his pristine suit got dirty. Azriel jostled you in his arms, “he was very upset.” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, turning into the bathing room and letting his wings flare a little, dust and debris falling from between them too, the veins and creases of his delicate wings filled with soot. 

“You two should rinse off before you get anywhere near the tub,” you pointed at the cubicle in the corner of the bathing room. You’d asked Rhys for one after he’d had a similar thing specially commissioned for Nesta, it stopped your beautiful sunken tub from getting filled with mud and dust after your boys got back from training, missions, daily life - how they managed to get so dirty just existing was beyond you. 

As an incentive you began unbuckling Azriel’s leathers further, letting them drop to the floor, before you could turn to help Cassian too the male was behind you, his hands on your hips. 

“Are you going to join us?” He hummed in your ear, the feel of his chest vibrating against your back, his powerful arms surrounding you sent heat straight to your core. 

“It’ll be very lonely without you, baby.” Azriel’s hands were on you now too, pulling up the sheer nightgown you’d worn, hoping for this very moment when two sets of battle weary hands would strip you back out of it. 

“There she is,” Cassian’s hands moved up from your stomach to cup your breasts, your nipples hardening. Azriel bent forwards, latching his lips onto one nipple and then the next, flicking and teasing them until they ached. 

You let your head drop back against Cassian’s chest as Azriel moved lower, kissing down your stomach until he knelt on the floor at your feet. Scarred hands ran up your legs, his thumbs tickling the inside of your thighs, tantalisingly close to wear your silk underwear clung to your slick folds. 

His hooked his fingers into the band of your underwear and stopped there, staring up at you. 

Cassian’s large hand crept up over your sternum and wrapped loosely around your throat, holding your head back. Despite his gentle hold your breath stuttered out of you. 

“Good girl, ask him nicely if he’ll take them off for you.” 

He let go, only enough for him to use his thumb on your chin to tilt your head down to look at the famed Illyrian warrior, his wings spread out around him, his eyes glowing in the faelight. 

“Puh-please take them off, Az.” 

He began sliding them down your legs, carefully lifting your feet in turn and then throwing them behind his back. 

As he stood he let his fingers dance up between your legs, barely skimming over the slick that stuck your thighs together, before laying his hand over Cassian’s and claiming your mouth. 

“We missed you so much,” Cassian crooned, pressing wet kisses up the side of your neck, “couldn’t wait to get home to our little sweetheart.” 

Your heart was pounding, the thick heat of the streaming bathroom only making your body slicker and hotter. Cassian sucked your ear lobe between his teeth, worrying the delicate flesh until your knees buckled and Azriel had to take your weight, sliding his thigh between your sweat slick legs.

“Shower-” you moaned brokenly, trying to get Azriel to step backwards under the rainforest showerhead. He relented, allowing the hot water to drip from his hair like summer rain. “Let me - ugh - wash you.” Every word was a struggle against the on-slaught of pleasure from both warriors. 

Cassian moved away, the loss of his body heat sending goosebumps flaring over your skin. Behind you the sound of water splashing into the enormous tub filled the room. 

Azriel stepped away too, lifting his face into the water and rubbing his hands over his face. You followed, wrapping your arms around his waist and allowing your hands to find the sensitive spot where his wings met his back. 

“What are you doing, baby?” His gaze snapped down, sending water flying. 

“Let me wash you,” you pouted, two scarred hands cupping your cheeks as he kissed the pout from your lips. But then he turned, kneeling on the floor of the shower so you should reach him. 

The lavender soap was slippery in your hands, filling the shower area with its sweet, floral scent. 

You began with his shoulders, rubbing the knots away with your thumbs and then sliding your hands over his shoulders, suds revealing hints of the detailed tattoos that hid beneath, fingers brushing over the hard nubs of nipples before squeezing the soft muscle of his pecs playfully. 

Cassian, hair now slicked back from face, stepped behind you in turn, guiding your hands back to Azriel’s shoulders. 

“Just - here,” he nuzzled into the soft spot below your ear, moving your hand between Az’s wings and then pressing. 

In front of you Azriel moaned, a deep sound that bounced off the tiles and vibrated up your legs. Cassian chuckled behind you and pressed again. 

“Wicked, both of you, wicked, teasing -” he stood and turned, crowding you back against Cas until all three of you were in the corner of the shower, kissing and laughing while Azriel tickled up your sides. 

“Hmm, time for the bath I think,” Cas wrapped his arms around you, reaching for Az. 

“I agree,” you nodded, breathless. 

Tearing yourself away from their searching hands and hungry kisses, you added a large squeeze of bubble bath to the filling tub. You barely had time to turn around again before Cassian hauled you into his arms and kissed you.

“Fuck, I missed you, baby, you’ll stay with us in the bath, right?” His hazel eyes, so full of lust just moments before, were clouded with something else too, a fear, a need to be close. 

“How can I say no to you, Cas?” You looked down into his gorgeous face, clean now after his quick shower, glowing in the steamy room.

“Good,” Az sighed into your ear, the feeling of his shivering shadows creeping up your legs and around your waist. 

Surrounded, you were entirely surrounded by them and it was exactly where you needed and wanted to be. Between your boys, safe and loved and close, just the three of you in the sanctuary you’d created. 

“Good!” Cassian echoed, climbing into the overflowing water.

“Cassy!” You giggled, sloshing the water as you both got comfortable before Azriel climbed in too. 

The tub was enormous, large enough for both males and their impressive wingspans, but you crowded together anyway, needing to feel them. You leaned forwards and pressed a chaste kiss to Azriel, revealing in the contrast of his cold shadows on your cheeks and his warm, full lips gently parting your own. 

Cassian’s grip on your hips tightened, “where are you going?” he tugged you back into his lap and nuzzled kisses into your neck. “I’ve gotta feel you, baby,” he hummed, settling your hips directly over his so you could feel the hard length of his arousal between your legs. 

Gods you’d missed this, the way your pulse raced and your body reacted for them. Your legs falling further open and your hips grinding back against him.

“Fuck, sweetheart, we can’t flood the bathroom again,” Azriel groaned, remembering the last time the three of you had taken a bath together, the whole floor had been soaked within minutes, soap and suds dripping out of the floor length open windows into the jasmine scented sky. 

“Just - let me -” he nipped gently at your shoulder, “feel you then.” You never could resist when he turned on his puppy dog eyes, how could you when they were so full of want and desire and the tip of his cock was nudging between your legs in that sinful way. 

You knew exactly what he wanted and you needed it too, reaching between you, you took hold of his hard cock and lined him up against your entrance, sinking down slowly. The first inch was always the hardest, his thick head stretching you, the pressure against your clit so sudden and delicious you could barely keep your eyes open. 

And then you felt Az’s shadows on your cheeks again and you opened your eyes to meet his, dark with lust and need while he watched you sink back down into Cassian’s lap with a gasp. 

Open mouthed, you gasped harder, feeling him so deep inside of you after so long was a welcome shock. 

“You look so beautiful like this, sweetheart.” Azriel’s voice was a low purr, each word punctuated by his shadows skittering over your skin, dancing between the dappled candlelight. 

“Az-” you moaned, leaning back against Cassian once more, ever your rock in this sea of pleasure. 

“That’s a good girl,” he whispered into your ear, soft and low, “taking me so well, taking such good care of me.” He pressed a kiss behind your ear, hands squeezing your hips. “But I think Azzie is lonely over there.” He tipped your chin back up to look at Azriel again, one arm resting on the tile surround, the other under the bubbles, his arm moving slowly as he pumped his cock. “Why don’t you keep him company?” 

Azriel met you searching hand with his own scarred palm, lacing your fingers together and drawing you closer. With a whimper you allowed Cassian’s cock to slip free, instantly feeling lost and empty without his firm, grounding presence. But Azriel was quick to help, situating you on his lap, knees spread wide around his hips and the wide head of his own cock nudging against your entrance. 

He swiped a hand over your forehead, beads of sweat forming from the heat of the bath, down your cheek and neck, his thumb pressing up just a little as it brushed under you chin. It was like you couldn’t breath, taking in his gentle touch, the caress of his hand over your nipple and down your side before he corsetted your waist with his fingers. And then you were lowering on to him too, taking every delicious inch that he had to offer. 

“You feel heavenly, baby,” he whispered, nosing at your jaw and nipping at your throat while you rolled your hips. “Would be a shame not to share you.” 

The water swirled around you both and Cassian’s scent heightened as he drew closer, his hands over Azriel’s at your waist and then dipping lower, lower, tracing the dip at the small of your back and slipping under the water to cup the round swell of your bottom. Massaging and pressing, his fingers touching the delicate skin that stretched so tight around Azriel’s length and then pulling back to circle the your tight pucker. 

“This okay, sweetheart?” He breathed and the feel of his lips on your cheek, Azriel’s on your shoulder, their bodies slick and hard and wanting surrounding you had you whimpering again, clinging to them. You’d take everything they would give you, every touch, every kiss and every inch. 

“Yes - yes - Cassian - please.” You begged, letting your head fall back against him, that familiar movement, that let you feel safe in his arms, that let you gasp and shudder as he pressed inside, knowing they would keep you here on the precipice of pleasure. 

“Fuck-” he brought his other hand around your chest, pulling you tight against him, cupping your breast in his large palm. “You’re perfect - perfect.” He grunted, a second finger joining the first and your mouth fell open in a silent shout. 

“Gods damn, Cassian, I can feel you.” Azriel shut his eyes, leaning into your chest and laving at your free nipple, he sucked the stiff nub into his mouth and worried it with his teeth, breathing heavily through his nose in his efforts to stay still. 

You could feel Cassian’s answering smirk on the cooling skin of your shoulder and then, just as suddenly, deep inside where he curled and spread his fingers. 

“Cassie,” you whined, shifting down into the full feeling, trying to move yourself while trapped between the two Illyrian males and finding no give in their embrace. “Please.” 

You didn’t need to beg further because Azriel took up your cause, barking at Cassian to hurry up before he embarrassed himself. His fingers were gone in an instance, replaced by the blunt, wide head of his cock and then - “Cass-” his name was punched from your lungs, leaving you breathless and floating between them. But they didn’t move. 

Together, you soaked in the bubbles for a few minutes, connected again after so much time apart, each intake of breath making them shift inside of you, sending sparks of heat across your skin. They were here, with out, safe and unharmed. 

 The aching of their initial thrusts gave way to a deep, dull, yearning for more. You clenched around them, trying to stay still but finding it increasingly difficult to stop your body moving, it was drawn to them, needing to feel them moving and loving you as much as they needed to hold you.

Azriel pulled away from you and opened one eye. “Baby, you need to stay still.” His soft, sleepy voice rolled over your skin, igniting your need further, he had fallen as deeply as you, hypnotised by the flickering candles, your combined scents and the closeness that you all craved. 

“Az, I can’t,” you cried, biting into his shoulder to stop your moans as your hips found the perfect pressure, “I missed you both so fucking much.” 

You hooked one arm around his shoulder and the other behind you to tangle in the messy of Cassian’s curls. 

“Fuck,” Cassian grunted, “I’m trying to be good here, don’t wanna make a mess like last time” He chuckled thrusting up anyway, the water swirling around the three of you and spilling over the sides of the tub and across the pearlescent tiles. 

“I don’t care, I don’t care, I just need you, please, fuck, I can’t wait anymore.” Frantically, you moved your hands and kissed Azriel roughly before turning your head to capture Cassian’s lips too. 

“Okay,” Azriel smiled, a secret smile that only you and Cassian ever saw, “but remember you asked for it.”

He gripped your hips again, fingers bruising tight on your hips, and thrust up, chasing his release. 

“Fuck, Azriel,” Cassian groaned behind you, biting into your shoulder and starting to move in contrast to Az. 

“I love you,” you moaned, eyes closed, lost in bliss. “I love you both so much.” Your climax hit you like an arrow, your whole body clenching around them as your walls fluttered, drawing them ever closer to their own release. 

“Love you too, Sweetheart.” 

“Love you, Baby.” 

They growled in unison cumming hard, Azriel bent his head back into your chest, nipping at the soft swell of your breast. Cassian dug his fingers into your waist, pulling you down onto them one last time. 

You stayed there, sandwiched between them, matching smiles on your sated faces, until the water went cold and the bubbles faded. 

[lalacliffthorne]

when for a change, Azriel is the one in need of cuddles 💕

I'm back on my modern!batboys roomies bullshit, bc I missed our grumpy bat and am in desperate need of a cuddle, and bc baby boy deserves all the love and care in the world.

The front door fell shut behind me, and I sighed, kicking off my shoes.

"Hello?" Raising my head, I slipped out of my jacket, and my eyes fell onto the boots abandoned in the middle of the hall next to Azriel's open door.

My brows crunched softly.

“Az?”

I listened for a few heartbeats, and my ears picked up on the sound of the shower running. Taking a few steps forward, I peaked into Azriel's room, and my gaze found clothes strewn aimlessly over the room, a knocked over pencil holder and pictures fallen to the floor.

My heart dipped before tightening gently, and picking up my bag, I turned around, quickly sliding into my room.

When maybe ten minutes later, I heard the door to the bathroom open, I was sitting on Azriel's bed, pillows stuffed into my back, his crumpled blanket thrown over my bare legs, one of his sweatshirts drowning my body and a gentle weight on my chest.

The door was pushed open, and my heart skipped softly against my ribs when Azriel stepped into the room, only wearing joggers hanging low on his lips. Muscles shifted under his bare skin as he ran a hand through his hair that looked damp and tousled, a rigid kind of tension in his whole body as he pushed the door close. Then he raised his head, and his body became completely still as our eyes met.

Something tightened gently under my ribs, but I just watched him, quiet.

For a second, Azriel just stared at me. His eyes, piercing and stormy, flickered over my face. Then I carefully pulled the blanket to the side and sent him the crooked ghost of a smile.

The muscles in Azriel's shoulders shifted, his jaw tightening. His gaze seemed to become molten as he flexed his fingers, something rising beneath, and suddenly, the weight on my chest shifted onto my throat.

Staring at him, I curled my fingers into my blanket and swallowed softly.

Azriel's gaze tracked the movement. Then his shoulders sagged as his whole stance seemed to deflate, the strange fight drowning out of his eyes and leaving them simply exhausted, and without another second of hesitation, Azriel moved.

Something leapt against my ribs when with a few strides, he reached the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he slid into the space between my legs, and something rose under my ribs when his arms slipped under my back and Azriel pulled me into a hug so tight, my heart got stuck in my throat.

My breath caught, and Azriel slid his arms further around me, grip crushing, face tucked into my neck. Then his shoulders sagged, and his body slumped heavily onto my chest.

My heart rose, and I slid my arms around his shoulders as I let myself sink back into the cushions. My legs came up to firmly frame Azriel's hips, and I dropped my head and buried my nose in his hair, squeezing him tightly.

Azriel nuzzled his nose into my skin, a soft sound leaving him as he buried deeper into me, the last bit of lingering tension in his body melting into nothingness. His weight was burying me in the pillows, so familiar that my body curved around his far taller one like muscle memory.

It felt like he was trying to hide me away, with his whole body covering mine, while simultaneously hiding himself.

My breath hitched gently, and I slid my arms further around his shoulders, squeezing him as tightly as I could as I pressed my nose into his damp hair.

“Hi,”, I whispered, sliding one hand up to curl my fingers into the hair at the back of his head, and Azriel made a low sound deep in his throat, his grip tightening as he buried himself deeper in my body.

Feeling my heart skip and rise, I held onto him, breathing in his familiar scent that made my chest ache. My thumb slowly brushed over the back of his head, then I stretched my arm with a little effort. Dragging the warm, heavy blanket over us, I let myself sink back into the pillows, slipping my hand out of Azriel's hair and carefully running my fingers over his bare back.

Muscles shifted under my touch and a gentle shudder travelled through his body as a low sound left him. Then Azriel shifted, arms tightening like he was trying to drag me closer, and something melted in my chest.

Gently, I started brushing my fingers over Azriel's back, following his spine up and down in slow, even motions. Raising my free hand to thread it through his hair, gently circling my thumb over the back of his head, I carefully dipped my head to the side slightly to catch a glimpse at Azriel’s face.

Something fluttered gently in my ribs when my gaze flickered over his closed eyes and cheek smushed against my collarbone, the crease between his dark brows slowly smoothing over as his jaw shifted, tensing before relaxing.

Feeling a wave of warmth rise in my chest, fluttering wildly, I dropped my head and pressed my lips against his forehead.

My heart dipped and skipped when Azriel's scent rose into my nose, his hair tickling my skin, and I thought I felt his chest vibrate when a deep sound left him. Then I buried my nose in his hair, running my fingers over the back of his head slowly.

"Are you okay?", I whispered, something tightening around my throat, and Azriel buried his nose in my neck. Then I felt him nod, just once.

Silence settled over the room, calm and comfortable as the sky outside slowly grew darker and darker. Azriel’s body radiated warmth, melting into mine until his muscles were completely loose and relaxed, his weight grounding as his slow, warm breath grazed my neck. My fingers carefully threaded through his hair, gently scratching over his scalp as I felt my own heartbeat calm, my eyes growing heavy. When my hand slipped up to rest against his jaw, my thumb beginning to lightly trace over Azriel's cheek, I felt his even, steady breath.

I had long lost track of time, but when I heard the distant sound of the front door opening and closing, Azriel hadn’t moved in a while. His breath was so slow, it felt like he had fallen asleep.

Gently running my fingers through his hair, I raised my head a little when there was a knock against my door, and with a creak, it opened, revealing tousled dark hair and wide shoulders as Rhys looked over his shoulder.

“Az, you he-“ He turned around and trailed off, and I groaned inwardly when his nearly violet eyes started twinkling, his lips slowly curving upwards in a smirk.

Pushing the door open further, he leaned against the frame and raised his brows.

I glowered softly and silently.

Don’t you dare.

Rhys’ grin grew, and he mouthed: “Cute.”

I rolled my eyes and flipped him off.

“Can I join in?” Rhys’ voice was lowered, though it did nothing to hide the amusement vibrating through it, and I contemplated throwing something at him. But before I could decide on what would make the least noise, Azriel’s low, tired voice vibrated through my bones.

“Fuck off.”

Rhys started grinning so widely, the dimples in his cheeks reached new depths. A low laugh vibrated in his chest, and he pushed off the doorframe.

“Rude.” Sending me a bright smile and a cheeky wink, he turned around, and I couldn’t keep the light giggle breaking from my throat as I watched him close the door again.

“Shithead,”, Azriel mumbled softly into my neck, but I could feel the ghost of a crease forming in his cheek under my fingers.

My heart fluttered gently when Az raised his head, resting his chin on my chest. Our noses brushed slightly, and the thrum under my ribs grew as my gaze flickered over his tired eyes.

"Hi,", I mumbled.

Azriel huffed gently, but the corner of his lips rose just barely. His eyes slowly tracked over my face, and something fluttered violently against my ribs at the spark of something feverish growing in his tired stare.

"Hi,", Azriel mumbled back, and my heart leapt into my throat at the sound of his slow, deep voice quietly vibrating through me.

For a second, we just stared at each other, almost greedy in the way our eyes flickered over the other's face. I catalogised the few pale freckles on his nose and the way his tousled hair fell over his forehead as my fingers slowly ran over the back of his head. Then I blinked lightly.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" My voice was so soft, it vibrated in the tiny space between us as my gaze roamed Azriel's face and my hand carefully threaded through his hair.

"Not really." Azriel let his eyes fall shut for a second, his low, deep voice wavering between dry and simply tired.

Staring at him, I felt something close around my throat.

Azriel blinked, his gaze focusing back in on me. Amber eyes tracked over mine, tired, soft, and a little feverish. Then he blinked again, and his deep voice was quiet when he mumbled: "Got caught in the darkness."

Something tightened under my ribs, squeezing my heart.

Azriel's nose lightly brushed mine as he shifted a little, his gaze roaming over my face. Then his soft, low mumble washed over me. "You pulled me out though."

My breath caught in my throat, and pressure built behind my eyes as I nodded, quick and soft.

Azriel's lips curved, just a little as his gaze flickered over mine. Then he tightened his grip and shifted forward, and my heart leapt high when he rolled onto his back with a quiet grunt, pulling me with him.

A soft, breathy squeak bubbled in my throat, and somehow, I managed to catch myself with my forearms pressing into the mattress next to Azriel's head.

My breath hitched when I felt his grip tighten to keep me from sliding away to the side, one of his hands slipping under my sweatshirt and causing a gentle shiver to travel down my spine as his calloused skin pressed against my back.

Something swelled under my ribs, and exhaling softly, I let myself slowly sink into his chest. Azriel shifted to get comfortable, resting his head against the pillows as he stared up at me, and swallowing gently, I traced my eyes over Azriel's face. Then I carefully dipped my head.

My nose lightly brushed against Azriel's, and I could feel his muscles shift, his lashes fluttering against my cheeks. His breath fanned over my skin, his scent rising into my nose as his grip tightened, and feeling something rise in my chest, bright and all-consuming, I bridged the last inch and slowly pressed my lips onto his.

A low sound broke from Azriel's throat, deep and hoarse. His hand rose to cup the side of my neck as his arm slid around my waist, and his thumb brushed over the curve of my neck as I kissed him, simple, warm and long enough to feel dizzy.

Pulling back carefully only for a few seconds, I gently brushed my nose against Azriel's. Then I dipped my head and pressed our lips together again, and Azriel exhaled slowly against my cheek, his fingers sliding into my hair, and a soft noise bubbled in my throat.

Breaking the kiss slowly, I pressed my lips against the corner of Azriel's, then his cheek, his chin, the side of his nose, slow, gentle, my heart pounding against my ribs when I felt his lashes flutter against my cheek.

Azriel's grip tightened, and threading my fingers through his hair, I sank deeper into his chest, pressing one last long kiss onto the place where the crease in his cheek formed when he smiled. Then I pulled back, and Azriel stared at me from half-lidded eyes, that tired, feverish look doubled as his gaze dragged over my face.

Feeling my lips curve, I nudged my nose against his lightly. The corner of Azriel's lips twitched as his piercing eyes dragged tiredly over my face, and I brushed my thumb over his eyebrow before letting my head fall onto his shoulder with a sigh, burying my face in the crook of his neck. Azriel's hand slipped up my back as he slid his arms further around me, then he dropped his nose into my hair and slowly breathed out.

@azrielshadows1nger @waytoomanyteenagefeels @secretlyhers @knmendiola @luvmoo

@azriels-mate2 @bookishbroadwaybish @maybe-a-winchester @stayinglow-exploringworlds

@harrystylesfan2686 @icey--stars @ssmay123 @kalulakunundrum

[azsazz]

Shining Armor (Part 2)

Knight!Azriel x Princess!Reader (Rhysand's Sister)

Summary: For @sapphirelunawolfie who said "Knight!Az x Princess!Reader" and inspired me 💙

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Word Count: 1841

Notes: This eats I'm not even going to lie.

_________________________________________

Azriel doesn’t know why you’re here.

Here, in the middle of the Night Court King’s throne room.

Here, sitting on a throne of your own, placed slightly behind your father’s.

Here, where there is a noticeably absent seat on the dais.

He stands at your side, stiff as a board, hand perched on the hilt of his sword. He studies the room with rapt attention. How straight Rhysand sits on his own throne, instead of the usual blasé way he lounges during a ball. The longing glances you keep taking at the empty throne beside your father’s. The sharp jaw and angry eyes of the King. The way his golden rings dig into the wooden armrests of his seat.

The pale sliver of skin on his fourth finger where a ring used to sit.

The setting sun cascades through the stained-glass windows near the ceiling. Blots of color paint the walls. Azriel knows exactly which pane paints the room crimson. He memorized the tales behind each and every one of the eight windows lined perfectly beside each other long ago. This particular artwork always seemed to scream bad omens in his ears, and the hair at his nape stands on end.

Azriel blames it on the icy cold chainmail.

He doesn’t want you here. Not when you’re in mourning. Not when he can hear the soft sniffles you’re trying to stifle.

He hates the King for this, for summoning you, Rhysand, and his retinue when the entire Court is in misery.

Whatever is going to happen here tonight, it must be important.

King Dornan sits so still on his throne he looks like the gargoyles perched on every terrace of the castle. His violet eyes are hard, filled to the brim with bloodthirsty vengeance. His black cape drapes carelessly over his shoulder, spilling down the side of his throne as if he stormed in here twenty minutes ago and barked out orders to gather everyone closest to the family, and to arrive as quickly as possible.

Cassian stands beside Rhys, just as confused. Rhysand had been visiting you when one of the King’s messengers raced down the hall, startling the two knights standing guard outside your room. Azriel and Cassian had been conversing softly when the scrawny boy came running by. His steps echoed so loudly in the hall he heard you and your brother quiet on the other side of the door.

Their hands had found their swords quickly, and the boy would have been dead if they hadn’t recognized him the split second, he rounded the corner. Azriel and Cassian were the best trained knights in the kingdom with the exception of Rott, the King’s personal guard. The boy had been a panting mess, his blue eyes terrified as he delivered the summons.

The doors to the chamber swing open with an angry force that makes Azriel itch to throw himself in front of you, to protect you from the army of guards that whip into the room. The metal of their armor clangs loudly, but it’s the screams that pierce Azriel’s ears that really have him on edge. He wants you out of here, right the fuck now.

It’s not the first sentencing you’ve attended, but it’s the first sentencing you’ve attended since your mother’s murder only a few nights prior. You were supposed to be with her that fateful night, but she had convinced you to stay and keep your father company, sit with him in the lounge and challenge him in a game of chess while she went to visit Rhysand a few villages over.

She never made it. And you haven’t left your bed chamber since.

The guards drag two wailing men between them. Immediately, Azriel knows what’s happening. The lack of a public viewing, the quickness in which the King called for you and your brother.

These are the men that killed your mother, and the King is about to make his revenge a family affair.

Azriel fights the urge to whisk you through the secret door in the back of the room. You don’t need to see this, you’ve been through enough this week. You should be resting, mourning in your rooms while he stands just outside the door, his heart rattling behind his chest plate at every sob he pretends he doesn’t hear.

He’s wanted to burst inside and console you for days, but that is not his role. He doesn’t think about you, the Princess of the Night Court. He’s hardly even supposed to talk to you, but he can’t deny the magnetism that draws him to you. He’s intrigued, and as the knight from the top of his class, the one that holds one of the highest positions in the King’s eyes, should not be thinking of you more than a duty.

“Azriel,” the King calls. He doesn’t startle, but his breath shallows slightly in surprise. Not enough for anyone to notice.

You twist in your chair, brows furrowed in confusion. He doesn’t know why he’s being summoned, either, but he waits for one of the guards lining the walls to fill his place before he takes the few steps to join the King at his side.

It’s Bryaxis that takes his spot. Azriel doesn’t like taking leave from your side, but if there’s anyone who is as serious at his job as he is, it’s Bryaxis. He has the build, custom-made armor hangs from his large frame, nearly double the size of Azriel.

You want to reach out and snag Azriel’s hand as he passes. You don’t understand what’s going on, why your father is requesting his presence. You don’t like anything that’s happened this past week, and worry digs into your chest. You don’t want anything else to happen.

“Yes, my King?” Azriel answers once he reaches the throne. He stares straight ahead like a loyal soldier, awaiting his orders.

“Cassian,” the King calls, ignoring Azriel.

Despite knowing not to interrupt his father, Rhysand murmurers a confused, “Father?”

Again, the request for attention is denied. The King glares down at the two men who have been forced to their knees before the dais. A steady flow of blood patters to the stone beneath their curled forms. One of the guards behind the perpetrators digs his fingers into the matter black hair on the top of his head and yanks. With a sharp grunt, the man’s head is wrenched up, and all Azriel can focus on is your gasp of shock behind him.

Half of the man’s face is split open, almost right down the center. One of his eyes is completely gone, bludgeoned from its socket. Blood pours rivulets down his bare chest, stripped of everything except his raggedy pants. The blackening liquid dries in his chest hair.

The second man is face down on the floor. Azriel’s not sure if he’s already dead, but when the King demands him to wake and the knights closest to him begin prodding him roughly with the tips of their steel-lined boots, his lashes flutter.

These are the men that killed the Queen. Your mother. They’re poor excuses for men, trying to disguise themselves by rolling around in the dirt and thinking they’d blend with the villagers. King Dornan hasn’t let any of his soldiers sleep until they were found, interrogated, and executed.

And, well, the throne room is definitely dressed for an execution.

The King eases slightly in his chair, and with a flick of his jeweled hand, he orders Azriel and Cassian. “Avenge the Cunningham’s for the loss of our beloved Queen.”

Neither he nor Cassian hesitate. They step down the dais at equal pace, their boots thundering loudly, menacingly, with each step they take. Their swords croon a taunting lullaby as they unsheathe them, and the men on the floor beg and plead an infantile song in reply.

They should hold their breath. There is no changing the Kings mind.

The only person Azriel is worried about is you. He wishes he could turn around to see the look on your face, to see how you’re faring with this order. He wants to look you in the eye as he kills the man who did the very same to your mother. He’s doing this for you.

He and Cassian are fortitudes of marble. They’re been trained to feel nothing, used to slay enemies and traitors alike for the King, until he and his wife deemed their skillset perfect for protecting his children. King Dornan wanted nothing but the best for his family. Protection. Intelligence. Togetherness.

And these men took that from you.

The man on the floor doesn’t move, accepting his fate. Cassian stares harshly at the man, disgusted. He’d prefer it if her put up a fight, showed him what he was made of that night in the middle of the woods where they ambushed the Queen and her guards.

Azriel’s traitor tries. He fights against the wrought-iron chains that hold his arms behind his back. Even if he didn’t have them, Azriel wouldn’t care. He would be no match for the knight that stands before him, staring down at him like a Death God all his own.

Azriel knows why he’s been chosen with this task.

The steel of his blade meets little resistance when it hits the bone of the man’s neck. Blood splatters, and Azriel doesn’t make a sound. The man’s head teeters for a moment, as if it doesn’t know which way to topple to the stone. His face is frozen in shock. Within a second his head goes rolling to the floor, his body following with a wet thud.

Cassian’s blade is pulled from the lifeless man on the floor’s head with a slick noise.

Azriel watches, waits for the familiar shadowy slivers to slip from their bodies. No one in the room besides the King notices, which is why Azriel was chosen for this particular job. His fellow knights don’t know. You certainly don’t know why he stands over their bodies when Cassian has already spun on his heel and knelt to his King, but you are curious.

Finally, two razor-thin plumes rise from the bodies. Their souls.

Azriel summons the shadows from the corners of the room. They follow obediently, following the cracks and shadows on the floor, behind guards, beneath his boots to consume the souls of the men who have committed the ultimate act of treason.

Their screams still ring in his ears, but they’re silenced by the mass of other souls Azriel rules over. Now, they’re his. Should the King request it, he can pluck them out of the river of black that follows him everywhere he goes.

When the ringing stops, Azriel turns on his heel and lowers himself to the ground, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword and dipping his chin. “My King,” he says, and with those words, his King knows the deed is done.

“You may rise,” King Dornan says with the hint of a sinister smile on his lips.

[azrielhours]

Captured

Azriel x Reader

Word count: 2018

Synopsis: The camera has been invented and Azriel takes up a hobby of capturing reader, proving how pretty she can be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“What is it?”

“An obscura camera, I think we called it.” You turned the device around for him to see the little hole to look through, let him hold it. “It means ‘dark room.’ Light travels in through here,” you pointed to the lens, “and an image is captured using refraction and shadows.”

Azriel frowned in disbelief, making you laugh.

“Watch,” you said, gently taking the Obscura from his hands.

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing,” you smiled, positioning it before your face. “Smile for me.”

He gave a small, tentative smile. The distrust in his eyes had you laughing again, which made Azriel chuckle genuinely.

You clicked something. A shutter sounded, light flashed, and Azriel’s eyes widened. You pulled the obscura away as it rattled, producing a thin strip of rectangular film. Azriel’s frown returned. “It’s black.”

“It has to develop,” you plucked it away and placed it facedown. “You’ll see in a few minutes.”

“This is what you’d been working on with Nuan?” he asked, referring to the alchemist who’d been in town for a few weeks.

You nodded. “It’s an early prototype, but it mimics the way light enters the eye.” A mixture of her trinketry, your crafty impulses, and some magic. “All this work so we can finally capture your pretty face,” you teased, enjoying the pink dusting his cheeks. You turned the piece of film to him, relishing Azriel’s shock upon peering down at the photograph.

That sincere smile you’d managed to capture was how you often caught him looking at you. A sweet, receptive earnestness lighting his normally cold face. Eyes that beheld you like he missed you even when you hadn’t gone anywhere. Now etched permanently into a photograph for you to cherish.

It was your turn to blush. Playful words aside, this truly did catch his beauty.

He met your gaze. “Teach me how to use it.” You demonstrated, pointing to shoot the nearby bookshelf, but Azriel shook his head. “I want one like that,” he nodded to his headshot.

Your nose crinkled. “I don’t photograph well, Az.”

He scoffed. “Why wouldn’t you?” He positioned the obscura over his eyes like you had.

You covered your face with your hands, hiding. “I don’t like the posing.”

 “Come on,” he cooed, laughing. He reached to move your hair where it fell forward as you ducked your head, then gently held your wrists beneath your chin, broad hand easily cradling them between a thumb and two fingers. He tilted your face up with his hold. You peered at him through your fingers, rosy cheeks peeking through digits. Still holding your wrists, he took the photo effortlessly.

You uncovered your face, still blushing. He wondered how you didn’t see what a perfect subject you’d be. How you could invent the obscura and deprive him of its most obvious benefit.

Azriel studied you, and you saw the gears turn in his head. “Can I borrow it for a while?"

You laughed. “Okay, Az.”

~

It started off rather clumsy, and it took a few tries for Azriel to figure out that lighting mattered. That snapping photos with light in the immediate background ruined the film. He tested his hypothesis by capturing a bewildered Cassian, the confusion frozen making Azriel chuckle. He understood why you’d been laughing at him before. Next, he found that distance was important; that he could shift the angle of his photography. A practice shot of Feyre losing herself in a painting, so focused that she didn’t turn to wonder about the shuttering sound. Rhys landing on a balcony after training. Nesta reading ferociously by the fire.

He got the hang of it and was ready to really begin.

I don’t like the posing, you’d told him. He had no issues with that whatsoever.

The first one happened in the kitchen. The early morning hours were typically shared by the both of you on the grounds of a close friendship. You’d been sipping on coffee like it was medicinal, the light of the sun softening everything. Eyes closed, hair still slightly undone from sleep. He loved seeing you in your fancy dresses, your fighting leathers, but something about seeing you in soft, utterly personal nightwear—linen pants, knit cardigans, slippers—it spread warmth through his chest brighter than your revered sunrise. Today he'd even caught you in his t-shirt you must’ve swiped. Carefully positioning the Obscura over his face where he stood at the doorway, he snapped his photo before inconspicuously joining you, inquiring about the theft he quietly adored. Adoring your answering smile even more.

The next shot was on the rooftop. He’d caught Cassian bandaging you up after sparring. You were sat on the bench, smiling bloody and beautiful. Laughing as Cassian cracked jokes, allowing him to tend to you. He was kneeling on the ground before you, cleaning the cuts on your brow, wrapping your bruised knuckles. The sheer glee in your laugh, the way you sat so comfortably with his brother had Azriel reaching into the pocket realm for the Obscura, capturing the sight of his favourite people bantering fresh out of the ring.

One night after Rita’s, Rhys had offered to fly you home after winning a drinking game against Azriel. He’d winked at the bested Shadowsinger, taking you into his arms and shooting to the sky. Azriel grumbled at first until he’d realized the opportunity he had mid-flight with Rhys ahead. You reached to the skies above, stretching like you could grab the very moon, safe in the High Lord’s arms. He wished the Obscura had the power to capture the sound of your laughter as well, but he’d gladly settle for your silhouette marked by the Night Court stars, their beauty dimmed in the face of your exquisite joy.

The next photo was stolen after a Hewn City mission. You’d been in a billowing dark gown, face so ethereal, so striking and utterly beautiful that he’d struggled to look at you face-on. Everyone had taken to sprawling on the couches after coming home, still in formal attire, helping themselves to drinks as they winded down. You’d fallen asleep at some point, stretched comfortably across the sofa with your head nearly hanging off, hair cascading around you like a halo and down the sofa to the ground. Feyre mentioned wishing she could paint the sight of you, sleeping like some spite or nymph, some woodland creature of beauty, your dress ballooning around you like a nightshade flower. Azriel silently pulled out the Obscura, taking his time levelling the device so the light of the hearth illuminated your face.

“What is that thing you keep doing?” Cassian asked lowly.

Azriel focused, capturing the shot. Taking another one just for good measure. “Nothing.”

His favourite photo was of you and Nyx. You’d been playing with the boy on the balcony, blowing bubbles as he tried dutifully to pop them. They’d land and settle in his hair, making you laugh boisterously, head tipping back as Nyx laughed with you unwittingly. It was like the sun loved you, how it always shone upon you, doing the work for Azriel. He took the photo, falling into the easy routine. Once that photo developed, his heart skipped a beat at its sight. At the promise it captured that he wished was his.

He was a lucky bastard to have this gift—a device that finally allowed him to freeze the light that you were in his life, to etch the sights he so sincerely loved. God, you were special. Azriel had to walk away from the balcony, still staring at the little strip of film, more invaluable than precious jewel. How lucky he was to witness you. Luckier still to capture you in still frames, while you unknowingly captured his heart.

~

Azriel found you in your room, sitting at your vanity. He handed the obscura to you. “There’s no more film.”

You laughed. “Wow. How many photos did you take?”

He shrugged, smiling roguishly. “A handful.”

“Can I see?”

He handed a few.

You rifled through them, gasping at the quality. “These are amazing.” He’d captured Feyre descending the stairs in her regalia, beautiful like a divinity of legend. Nesta pouting playfully, glaring right at the camera. Mor putting earrings in before an outing. “Their mates would love these,” you murmured.

“They would,” he agreed.

You shook your head, stunned. “God, they’re beautiful.” Azriel didn’t know if you meant the photos or who he captured in them. “I wish I photographed this good.”

He would’ve laughed at the absurdity if he could resist his scoff of disbelief. “You do.”

You just shook your head, sneaking a quick glance at yourself in the mirror before eyeing the photos again.

Azriel’s heart stuttered. “You do,” he repeated. “I—” he reached into the pocket realm. “I took some of you as well.” Handing over a few photos, he watched closely as your eyes widened. You took your time studying each photo, brows pinched. He didn’t know if it was in dislike, or—

“Wow,” you breathed. You met his gaze. The fragility in them told him it was awe. “Azriel,” you breathed again, assessing the shots. “Wow. You make me look…”

You faded to silence. “What,” he gently nudged you.

“Pretty.”

He tried to speak. A breath puffed out of him. “Y/n,” he couldn’t stop the reverence in his tone. “You’re beautiful. What do you mean?” He didn’t care how it came off, how saying it warmed his cheeks.

He’d only pulled out a few of the tamer photos. The ones of you with his family or in mundane solitude. He immediately pulled out the rest, laying them before you. The pinch deepened between your brows, looking at the one of you after Hewn City. “Oh my god,” you breathed. You had no idea you could look so… “beautiful.”

“Yes,” Azriel nodded. “Beautiful.” He pointed to the one of you in the kitchen, freshly woken up. “Here as well.” Always.

You took your time studying them, unable to find it in you to care about how stupidly vulnerable this struck you. Too busy grappling with the comfort of feeling this seen. You finally met his gaze, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have thought that look in his eyes was…

If you were well and truly self-indulgent, you may have called it how you felt inside.

Azriel wished he had just one more piece of film to capture the look on your face. The depth of fondness in your eyes, like he was worth seeing. His heart stuttered again, holding that stare like he could pour his affection directly from his eyes to yours.

“Will you be keeping these?” you asked about the photos.

Azriel chuckled. “Yes. Try taking even one away.”

Oh.

You blushed, breaking his stare. A fine line to toe with your friend indeed.

But Azriel enjoyed that conviction on your face when you saw yourself as he did. “Okay,” he let up, exhaling in mock annoyance. “You can have a few.” He took most of the photos back, making sure to leave you with a copy of the Hewn City one. “I mean, I can always take more.”

You laughed, standing to retrieve your satchel, pulling out spare film. You showed Azriel how to load it in, but before handing the Obscura back, you eyed the first photo he’d taken, with his hands holding your wrists. “I want one like that,” you said, reaching for his face.

He laughed but didn’t bat your hand away, to your pleasant surprise. Only standing firm, albeit leaving his face uncovered. You cradled his face gently by the chin in one hand, resting your fingers on his cheeks, barely pressing. He smiled warmly at you, looking right through the camera at you. You captured him.

“There,” you handed back the obscura. “Now I got you,” you held up his matching photo.

He liked the sound of that. “I have you too,” he raised his collection of your photos in his hand in reminder. “And I’ll be keeping you with me.”

~

taglist:

@iimisty-a @feyretopia @riddlesb1tch @cullenswife @reiincarnatiion @sfhsgrad-blog @answer-the-sirens @mrstangerinejohnson @marigold-morelli @courtofjurdan @azriels-mate123 @emotionless-lover @marina468 @slvtherinseeker @owllover123 @banasheefan56 @nyotamalfoy @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @lilah-asteria @bakananya @deep-forest-creature @itsswritten

[isa-beenme]

This one came waaaay quicker than part 2 hehe

Once I find the correct song all the rest comes easily

This is for the ones that asked for a happy ending 😛✌️

Summary: Prythian saw the way that Rhysand's mate fell into depression but tried her best to get better. They saw the way that Cassian's mate fell into depression and turned it into pure anger and self-destruction. But... what if Azriel's mate simply... doesn't care?

What Was I Made For? (Part. 1)

Maria (Part. 2)

Four Seasons (Part. 3)

Azriel never feared silence in his life. He thrived in it, in the solace of the shadows, in the weight of unspoken words. But the silence you left behind was unbearable. For two years, it echoed in his bones, carved itself into the walls of the room you once shared, pressed into the empty space in the bed where you once laid. And the letter, now creased and worn from how many times he had read it, reminded him of his failure.

"I want to heal. I need to understand what I was made for."

You had been slipping through his fingers like grains of sand, and he hadn’t even noticed. Hadn't seen the way you let life pass you by. Hadn’t realized that the quiet, passive way you moved through the world wasn’t peace, it was emptiness. And it was too late. You are gone.

For the first few months, rage had warred with guilt. He had failed you. As your mate, as the male who was supposed to know your soul. He had been so focused on loving you that he hadn't realized you hadn't yet learned how to love yourself.

Cassian and Rhys tried to help, but there were no words that could fix this. He trained until his muscles burned, until his body ached, but nothing numbed the feeling of your absence. His shadows whispered your name at night, searching for traces of you.

And then, one evening, as he sat on the roof of the House of Wind, staring at the stars, wishing he could listen to the same story over and over again about how each star ended where it was, something inside him shifted. The bond. A door he thought would remain locked forever cracked open.

His breath left him in a harsh exhale, his heart a hammering mess in his chest. The sensation was weak at first, as if you weren't sure you could bear to touch it. But it was there. You were back. And he was flying before he even realized it.

Honestly, you had prepared yourself for this moment. Prepared for the possibility that Azriel might not want you anymore. That you had been gone for too long, had hurt him too deeply.

But you weren't the same person who had left. you had spent two years chasing something — anything — that would make you feel alive. You hadn’t found the grand purpose you had longed for, hadn’t discovered a great passion hidden within yourself. But you had found yourself at peace in the small moments. In the way the ocean breeze felt against your skin while you were traveling, in the warmth of the sun after a cold night you spent outside, in the quiet companionship of strangers who didn’t know your past while you ate at small bakeries.

And somewhere along the way, you had realized something else. You loved Azriel. Not because of the bond, not because it was fate. But because, in all the world, Azriel was the one person who made you want to feel something. You spent so many years without worrying about it, and when Azriel entered your life, it felt like a necessity to understand his emotions and be someone worthy of him. You just didn't realize it at the time.

A gust of wind cut through the clearing, and you turned just as a shadow fell over you. Azriel landed with a force that sent leaves scattering around you. His wings flared wide, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, golden eyes burning with something you couldn’t quite name.

You took a breath. “Az—”

But you didn’t get the chance to finish. He crossed the space between them in two strides, pulling you into his arms, burying his face in your neck. His scent overwhelmed you, shadows curling around your wrists like they had missed you too.

“You came back,” he rasped. His voice was raw. “You came back.”

Your throat tightened. You wrapped your arms around him, holding on, letting yourself feel this moment fully.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

His grip tightened. “Don’t. Just—don’t.”

You pulled back enough to look at him, reaching up to touch his face, tracing the dark circles beneath his eyes, the tension in his jaw. “I should have told you what I was feeling. I should have let you in. At least once.”

Azriel’s gaze searched yours, his hands trembling slightly as they cupped your face. “I should have seen it,” he murmured. “I should have—”

You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his. “We can’t change the past.”

He exhaled shakily, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment before he looked at you again. “Are you staying?”

The question carried the weight of everything. You had been ready to tell him that it was okay if he didn’t want you anymore. That you would understand. But seeing him now, feeling him this way for the first time, it was unbearable to think of leaving again.

“Yes,” you breathed. “If you’ll have me.”

Azriel let out a broken laugh, the ghost of a smile touching his lips before he kissed you. It wasn’t soft. It was desperate, filled with two years of longing, of aching, of everything unsaid. You melted into him, letting yourself feel. For the first time in your life, you wanted to stay. And that was enough. For now, it had to be enough.

—

The River House was quiet when Azriel led you inside. He had barely spoken since you both left the clearing, as if afraid that if he broke the silence, you would disappear again. But his hand never left yours. He held on like he was grounding himself in the reality that you were here, real and warm beside him.

Rhys and Feyre had been in the sitting room when you arrived, their eyes widening at the sight of your form. Feyre had reached out, a silent question in her expression, but Rhys had just given a knowing nod and waved them along. They would talk later. For now, Azriel just needed to take you home.

When you finally reached your old house, the sight of it stole your breath. It was exactly as you had left it. You had thought, maybe, that he wouldn’t want to stay here anymore. That it would be too painful. But he hadn’t let it go. The flowers in the window boxes were still alive, the wards still strong. It was lived in, barely, but lived in all the same.

Azriel opened the door, stepping inside first. You followed hesitantly, your heart hammering as you took in the space that had once been yours. It smelled like him. Like shadows and cedar and something distinctly Azriel.

He turned to you, expression unreadable. “It’s yours if you still want it.”

You swallowed past the lump in your throat. “It's ours.”

His eyes shined, something flickering there, but he only nodded and led you inside.

You settled in the living room. Azriel sat on the couch first, tension coiled tight in his body. You hesitated for only a moment before curling up beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. The breath he let out was shaky, but his arm came around you, pulling you closer. And for a moment, you just sat there.

Finally, he broke the silence. “Tell me about it.”

You hummed softly. “About what?”

His fingers traced small patterns on your arm. “Everything.”

So you did. You told him about the places you had seen, the towns and cities and forests you had wandered through, places you studied so many times but never felt the necessity to see. About the mountains that had taken your breath away, the vast oceans that stretched endlessly before you.

“But,” you admitted after a pause, “even in the big things, I didn’t exactly find pleasure in them.”

Azriel tensed. “Then what did you find?”

You smiled softly, thinking of all the quiet moments you had collected. “The best part was the journey. The calm days. Picnics in wildflower fields. Reading books by a quiet river. Sitting under the stars and just… breathing.”

Azriel listened intently, hanging on to every word like they were precious. “You found peace in the small things.”

You nodded. “And in something else.” He waited. He always would. You exhaled shakily, tilting your head to look up at him. “I never really knew what home was. But I think… I think my home was always wherever you were.”

Azriel’s throat bobbed, his fingers tightening around yours. For the first time since you had returned, his walls cracked, his shadows retreating as he let you see him. The pain of your absence. The relief of your return. The love he had never stopped carrying.

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You left to find yourself. And you still found your way back to me.”

You smiled, reaching up to brush his cheek. “I think I always would.”

Azriel closed his eyes for a moment, like he was drinking in the words. When he opened them, his golden gaze burned into yours.

“Tell me about it,” he murmured.

And you told him about the way you had thought of him every single day. About how, even when you were alone in a city where no one knew your name, you had never truly been alone, because the bond had been there, whispering, calling. You had bathed in the feeling of longing for him, let it settle deep in your bones, and realized that it was love. That it had always been love. Azriel listened in silence, his fingers tracing slow circles on your back, grounding himself in your presence.

Then, you turned the question on him. “What about you?” you asked softly.

Azriel hesitated, his jaw tightening. “I stayed at the River House,” he admitted. “Rhys wanted to make sure I didn’t do anything stupid.”

Your heart ached at the thought. “I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “I trained. I worked. I did everything I could to stop myself from searching for you.” He let out a breath. “And I failed. My shadows searched every night. I just… I needed to know you were alive.”

Your fingers caressed him. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Azriel turned fully to face you, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek. “You needed to go.”

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. “But I needed to come back, too.”

His lips parted, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw. “Are you staying home?”

It was the second time he had asked you that tonight. And this time, you had no doubts.

You smiled. “For as long as you’ll have me.”

Azriel’s breath hitched. And then he was kissing you. It was soft at first, tentative, as if he was afraid you might disappear again. But when you melted into him, when your hands tangled in his hair, he deepened it, poured two years of longing into the kiss.

You had spent so long trying to find what you were made for. And maybe you still didn’t know. But you knew this. You knew him. And that was enough.

—

The days blended into something soft, something real. You had always thought love had to be grand, had to be overwhelming to be true. But you were learning that love was in the quiet moments. In the warmth of a shared morning, in the soft hum of conversation, in the way Azriel reached for you absentmindedly, as if making sure you were still there.

Your house — your home — had begun to feel like one again.

—

“You’re terrible at this,” Azriel muttered, watching your struggle to chop vegetables evenly.

You scowled at him. “I was traveling for two years, Az, not training under a master chef.”

He smirked, stepping behind you and reaching around to guide your hands. His chest was solid against your back, his breath warm against your ear. “Like this,” he murmured, his hands covering yours as he helped your slice.

You swallowed, your fingers tightening around the knife. “Are you actually trying to teach me, or are you just enjoying this?”

Azriel’s chuckle was low. “Can’t it be both?”

Your cheeks warmed, but you didn’t pull away.

You cooked together most nights, finding comfort in the simple act of creating something. Some meals were disasters — like when you burned an entire tray of bread because you got distracted — but others were quiet successes.

It wasn’t about the food. It was about the time spent together, the way you fit into a rhythm neither had to think too hard about.

—

Azriel had told you the house was still yours, but you wanted to make it about the two of you again. You repainted walls, shifted furniture, filled empty spaces with small touches that made the house feel alive.

“Are you sure about this color?” Azriel asked, skeptical as he stared at the deep blue paint you had chosen for the study.

“Yes,” you said firmly, dipping your brush in the paint and dabbing a streak of blue onto his nose.

Azriel blinked, unmoving for a long moment. Then, slow as a predator, he dipped his fingers into the can and dragged a stripe of blue down your cheek.

Your eyes widened. “Azriel.”

He only smirked. “What? It suits you.”

The complete war that followed left you both covered in paint, breathless with laughter. But the room turned out perfect anyway.

—

The biggest change was the spare room. You had mentioned, once, that reading had been your solace during your time away. You hadn’t realized Azriel had listened so intently until he suggested turning the empty room into a library. The moment the last youlf was filled, you sighed in contentment, running your fingers along the spines of the books.

Azriel leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. “Happy?”

You turned to him, beaming. “Very.”

His expression softened. “Good.”

You walked over, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into his chest. “Thank you.”

Azriel kissed the top of your head, his hands tracing slow circles on your back. “You don’t have to thank me, love.”

You tilted your head up. “I do. You’ve given me a home.”

Azriel’s gaze glowed with something deep, something endless. “You were always my home.”

Your throat tightened, and you kissed him before you could cry.

—

Azriel knew he couldn’t just stop working for Rhysand, he was the Spymaster of the Night Court. But he also knew he couldn’t let work keep him from the life he was rebuilding with you. Couldn't let work keep him away from noticing the small things in you he had let pass years ago.

So, one evening, he found himself in Rhys’s study. “I need to lighten my workload,” he said bluntly.

Rhys blinked, setting down his glass of wine. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear from you.”

Azriel sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I just… I lost her once. I don't want to lose her again.”

Understanding flickered in Rhys’s violet eyes. “You won’t.”

Azriel looked away. “She’s still figuring herself out. I want to be here for that.”

Rhys studied him for a long moment before nodding. “We’ll make it work.”

Relief flooded Azriel’s chest.

Rhys smirked. “And here I thought you’d never take a damn break.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t get used to it.”

—

Life didn’t suddenly become perfect. There were still days where you struggled, where you felt like you were still learning how to exist. But you were healing. And you weren't alone. Azriel was there through it all, the small joys, the frustrating days, the laughter and the quiet moments in between. You had spent so much time lost. Now, you are finding your way back. Together.

—

To My Dearest,

I don’t know when you will read this. Maybe when you are young, curious, searching through drawers for secrets. Maybe when you are older, when the weight of the world feels a little too heavy. Maybe never at all.

But just in case — just in case you ever feel the way I once did, the way I spent most of my life feeling — I want you to know this: You can talk to me.

There is nothing shameful in feeling lost. In feeling like life moves around you, like you are watching it all from behind a glass. Like you are there but not present. I know that feeling well, my love. And I know how dangerous silence can be.

For so long, I thought I had to bear it alone. That it was something only I could fix. But I was wrong. I don’t know who decided that we should face our darkness alone, but they were wrong. We are not meant to heal in solitude. We have a family. And family is love.

I want you to learn that — truly learn that. Love is not something that has to be earned. Love isn't something you need to figure out. It is not something that disappears just because you don’t feel full all the time. You are loved because you exist. You are loved because you are you.

And if, one day, you wake up and feel that emptiness creeping in, know that I will be here. That you don’t have to pretend. That you don’t have to carry it alone.

I spent years trying to find what I was meant for. And maybe I still don’t have all the answers. Maybe I never will. But I know one thing with certainty. I was meant to love. At least that. And loving you is the easiest thing I have ever done.

Forever,

Your Mother

[prythiansprincess]

CHAPTER TWO | TSOFAS.

pairing: azriel x reader.

word count: 4,421.

author's note: bear with me as we dive into the lore of our feisty assassin. she's not just a bitch, but she's a bitch with a backstory. as always, let me know what you think and if you'd like to be added to the taglist.

♫ start a war - klergy. nav. series. moodboard.

The witching hour fell upon the Western Isles, enveloping the rocky shores with a thick malevolent fog that curled through the shadowsinger’s wings like phantom fingers. 

As the moon beamed high upon the starless sky, Azriel careened across the horizon with the precision of an ash arrow. Normally, he would have taken the opportunity to appreciate the sights and sounds of the Night Court, but tonight he flew fast and hard — eager to return to Velaris and uncover the reason for the High Lord's abrupt summons.

Like the female in his arms, Azriel had been away on assignment when his brother sent word to return home immediately. The High Lord had been curt in his message, bidding Azriel to fetch the assassin from the Western Isles and fly straight to the River House at once. 

The assassin hadn’t been the least bit pleased to see him and even less so once he conveyed Rhysand’s command. The flight home was strained and silent with the female gripping him around the neck so tightly that her nails were currently pressing crescent shaped marks upon his skin. Azriel’s gaze flickered to her face with every intention to bark a biting reprimand, but the burning fire crackling through those familiar golden eyes made him think better of it. 

The shadowsinger could only guess at the increasingly worrying thoughts filtering through the assassin’s mind. He had a vague idea of the anxiety bubbling up within because he himself felt its sharp claws raking through his subconscious. Despite the calm and collected mask he bore, Rhysand’s summons had rattled him. 

Perhaps it was the abruptness of it all that unnerved Azriel. The last time his brother had sent a message of this nature was to inform everyone that Prythian had fallen into Amarantha’s hands and all the High Lords were being held captive Under the Mountain. Azriel hadn’t felt visceral fear like that in centuries. Not since the years spent in the darkness of his father’s dungeons. 

Rhysand had been compromised. Velaris was to be protected. The Inner Circle were ordered to conceal and defend the City of Starlight, rendering Azriel entirely useless and unable to do anything as his brother remained trapped for nearly half a century. 

Azriel would never forget what that panic felt like. 

So the shadowsinger flew at breakneck speed, ignoring the assassin’s ironclad grip, ignoring the thick eerie fog, ignoring the tightening in his chest as he raced towards home. 

Instant relief spread through him when he broke through the protective barrier shrouding Velaris. As far as he could tell, nothing was amiss in the sleepy city. His shadows confirmed that there were no threats at present and he landed on the lawn of the River House with a lighter heart than when he first embarked from Rask. Azriel could tell that the assassin held a similar sentiment when she released a shaky breath. 

The two of them walked in complete silence as they made their way into the River House. Azriel’s shadows informed him that the rest of their friends were gathered in Rhysand’s office. All safe, if not a little tense. 

Somewhere in the house, a clock chimed ominously, signaling the late hour. It must be urgent then, if everyone had gathered in the middle of the night. 

Azriel steeled himself as the assassin pushed through the doors, following closely behind and nodding at everyone in greeting. As soon as he beheld Rhysand’s face, he knew it was going to be bad. 

The flicker of worry dancing in Cassian’s gaze all but confirmed Azriel’s suspicion. Feyre and Mor stood by the fireplace, the former wringing her tattooed hands while the latter gave him a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Even Nesta’s nod of acknowledgement was tense at best. 

Amren was the only one who met his gaze before that silver predatory gaze settled on the deathly silent female beside him. 

The assassin crossed her arms, wary eyes surveying the room. “Well?” 

“You might want to take a seat for this,” Rhys said. Azriel noted that his brother didn’t meet either one of their gazes as he spoke. 

As Azriel knew she would, the assassin crossed her arms and stubbornly planted herself in place. The shadowsinger did the same, nodding at his brother to go on. Rhysand sighed in response. 

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

The High Lord cleared his throat. “As you know, our spies in the Autumn Court have been keeping tabs on Beron for months. After Briallyn’s demise, we suspected that it was only a matter of time before he attempted to contact Koschei to form an alliance. Eris confirmed just as much, but he’s unable to obtain solid proof of his father’s plans without compromising himself.”

Azriel sneered, ready to convey his mistrust of the Autumn Court heir but the assassin beat him to it. She raised a brow, picking at her nails with a sneer. “How convenient for him.”

A murmur of agreement swelled through the group. Given the history between Eris and Mor, none of the Inner Circle trusted the Autumn lordling. The cruelty he displayed all those years ago barely scratched the surface of the monstrosities that the Autumn Court was capable of, but no one in this room — not even Mor — truly knew the extent of the brutality of the Vanserras except the assassin. 

The female would know, because she was a Vanserra herself. Technically a Thorne, if Azriel was being precise. The mysterious assassin was the Lady of the Autumn Court’s niece — the only daughter of her eldest sister. Up until the assassin’s exile, she also served as Beron’s ward for much of her adulthood. 

Little was known of her former life in the Autumn Court. In the three centuries Azriel has known her, the assassin had never once spoken of her past. For all his connections and network of spies, he wasn’t able to find out much about her besides the fact that she’d fled the Forest House and never once looked back. She was shrouded in mystery and given the nature of his occupation, this greatly unnerved the shadowsinger. 

Azriel crossed his arms, scrutinizing her conflicted expression as Rhys continued. “Eris thinks that Beron is searching for the scepter of summoning and intends on using it to free Koschei from his curse.”

“The scepter has been missing for centuries,” she pointed out. “Even if Beron were to find it, he needs the blessing of the High Priestess to wield the scepter and Alyanna would never grant him its power,” she pointed out. 

His brother’s pause of hesitation drew Azriel’s attention. “The High Lord has her daughters.”

Beside him, Azriel felt the simmering rage radiating from the assassin. He angled himself in a defensive position, eyeing her clenched fists with caution. The shadowsinger could only deduce that she knew of the daughters his brother had mentioned and that they were probably close friends judging from the severity of her anger. 

“If Eris truly wants to help us, he’ll slit his father’s throat and put an end to all of this.”

The sentiment seemed to echo through the otherwise quiet study. Though the shadowsinger wasn’t a stranger to the assassin’s infamous temper, he hadn’t seen this side of her before. The rage that emanated from the female was a living, palpable entity that threatened to swallow the room whole. 

“In due time,” Rhysand replied. “But right now, Beron is too powerful for Eris to openly oppose and even if he were strong enough to dispose of his father, starting his reign with blood on his hands will destroy what little peace exists between our courts. He wants to stop Koschei as much as we do, but we can’t afford to destabilize this already waning alliance.”

“So why doesn’t he just search for the scepter himself?” 

“Given his predicament, he can’t exactly go traipsing through the Autumn Court without raising suspicion. However, Eris was able to find a map that may lead us to the scepter. If we’re to stop Beron from unleashing Koschei, we need someone who can maneuver the Autumn Court and steal the scepter.”

Rhysand lowered his gaze. Violet eyes flashed with regret as he drew them back up again. Realization dawned on Azriel and the assassin at the same time. 

“You mean to make me a thief for that wretched male?” 

The assassin’s voice was soft and deathly still, but it carried over to Azriel all the same. The calmness of her tone perturbed him, feeling reminiscent of the silence before a storm. The shadowsinger clutched at the dagger strapped to his thigh, readying himself for that first crack of thunder.

Rhysand’s voice softened. “For better or worse, we’re stuck with Eris. He’s the only one who can give us access to the Forest House. Many of our spies have tried, but it is impenetrable. No one enters or leaves without Beron’s knowledge.”

That was only the half of it. Even Azriel found himself unable to infiltrate the formidable fortress. The Forest House was built in and around the rocks and trees itself and only the uppermost level was visible from the ground. It would take the better half of a day to walk from one side of the tunnels to the other and even then, one had to survive the dangerous creatures lurking beneath its lower levels. Only someone with extensive knowledge of the fox’s den could ever hope to execute a mission like this. 

Someone like the assassin. 

“Then surely you’re aware that Beron isn’t likely to invite you or Feyre into his home any time soon,” she supplied. 

The High Lady placed a tattooed hand on the assassin’s shoulder. “But he might permit his niece to visit,” she said softly. 

Azriel’s fingers curled around Truth-teller’s hilt as rage flashed across the female’s face. Shadows swarmed around him restlessly as though they were overwhelmed with the extent of her wrath. 

A strange tightness clawed its way around his heart, but the shadowsinger didn’t dare take his eyes off of the assassin. There was such fury on her face and her hands shook from the effort it took to tamper it all down. Then, just beneath all of that ferocity, Azriel thought he saw a glimpse of fear break through the surface. 

But it was gone before he could further ponder it. 

The assassin’s gaze hardened as she rolled her shoulders back. “My uncle and I did not part on good terms. I’ve lived as an exile of his court for centuries. I don’t foresee him welcoming me back with open arms. So what exactly is your plan?” 

Feyre tensed beside the assassin. “During the Blood Moon, the Lady of Autumn will be hosting a ball. You will use that as an excuse to visit. Eris will make sure that an invitation is extended to you. In order for that to happen, Beron has to believe that you’re interested in reclaiming the position of High Priestess.”

The whole room fell silent. The revelation hung in the air like a loose thread and Azriel felt an overwhelming desire to tug on it until the secrets of the assassin’s past came unraveled before him. This was the most he’d heard about her sordid history. 

The assassin crossed her arms. “And then what? I march into the Autumn Court and steal the scepter from right under his nose? I’d be the first target he’d suspect.”

“That’s why you’ll use the distraction of the festivities to do it. Rumor has it that Beron has sent invitations to several emissaries from the Continent. He will be busy entertaining them, which will give you the opportunity to find the scepter. Once you secure it, Eris will winnow you back to Velaris.”

“And if things go awry?” she asked prudently. “What then, Rhysand?”

There was a fierce look in the assassin’s eyes that told Azriel the female would rather set the Autumn Court alight than be captured as its prisoner. 

Rhys was gravely serious as he met the assassin’s gaze. “Then you burn it all to hell.”

Azriel suppressed a shiver. There were layers upon layers in that statement alone. The shadowsinger had a sneaking suspicion that there were even more surprises lurking in the horizon where the assassin was concerned. He didn’t like the feeling — not one bit.

“It’s a horrible plan,” she said wryly.

Cassian nodded in agreement. “Be that as it may, it’s the only plan we have.”

“And you’re the only one who can pull it off, girl.” Amren added. 

Azriel watched carefully as Feyre squeezed the assassin’s shoulder. “It’s your choice.”

The shadowsinger could see the gears of her mind work, calculating the risk and reward, turning over every possibility. Despite the mutual dislike between the two of them, Azriel knew that the assassin’s intuition was as sharp as his spymaster abilities and carefully honed from her years of service to Velaris. Perhaps even before then. 

Resolve washed over her expression. “I’ll do whatever I have to.”

Rhysand let out a ragged breath. His brother’s gaze briefly flickered to him. “You and Azriel will depart in three days' time.”

Now that was news to the shadowsinger. Over the years, Rhysand had taken great pains in ensuring that the pair of them were never assigned to the same mission. It was a strategic plan to keep his strongest lines of defense separate in case of attack, but it was also necessary because neither party seemed to be able to withstand each other’s presence without some type of incident occurring. 

So why place them together now?

Rhysand must have a good reason. One that his brother would no doubt fill him in on later. The assassin wasn’t so easily convinced. 

“I don’t need an escort,” she gritted through her teeth. 

“I’m not sending you on this mission alone.” Rhys countered. 

“I can handle this on my own. I don’t need anyone slowing me down.” Azriel flashed the female a glare, which she quickly dismissed much to his annoyance. “Besides, the last time he was in a room with Eris, he almost killed my dear cousin. As enjoyable as it was, I highly doubt fratricide will help our cause. Beron is more likely to hand over the scepter willingly before he allows the shadowsinger into his court.”

It was a fair point. Though Azriel didn’t regret the encounter during the last High Lord’s meeting, it surely didn’t gain him any trust when it came to Beron. 

“The High Lord would be willing to put more than his son’s safety at risk if it means gaining power. You are that power. I hate that we even have to ask this of you, but you’re our only chance of stopping him.”

The allusion to power wasn’t lost on the shadowsinger. Whatever ability the assassin possessed, it was apparent that it would be highly valuable to a male like Beron. Maybe it was the missing thread to why she’d left the Autumn Court and never once returned. 

“But you are asking,” the assassin replied. “And I’m accepting, but I’m not doing this with a chaperone.”

Azriel schooled his features into neutrality, leveling a cold gaze at her. “You need to approach this objectively. Beron’s court is a dangerous place. You’d be a fool to think otherwise.”

Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it contained nothing but dark wrath. “I know all about the dangers of the Autumn Court, shadowsinger. I’ve lived it.”

He bristled at the assassin’s clipped tone. There was more to that statement, but it wouldn’t help the situation at hand. She pierced him with a molten gaze that silenced the room. “I hardly think you’re in any place to lecture me on objectivity given all that passed between you and Eris. I do not need your emotions jeopardizing this mission.”

The icy rage he kept locked away spread through his veins like frostbite. The chill of it broke through his composed exterior, but it only served to harden his resolve. 

Azriel didn’t so much as waver. “You are not going alone, Thorne.”

“Like hell I am!” 

“Enough.”

The dark power of the High Lord rumbled through the study and shook the room with the sound of thunder. Azriel’s gaze cut to his brother. 

“These are the terms of the mission. Azriel goes with you.”

“And if I refuse?” 

The bite of the assassin’s words awakened stars in Rhysand’s eyes. “Then you will return to the Western Isles to finish rooting out Hybern’s supporters and I will find another way to seize the scepter. As your High Lord commands.”

The shadowsinger balked. In all his years of serving the Night Court, Rhysand hardly ever pulled rank. His brother would not be moved from this decision. The realization seemed to rattle the assassin out of her stubbornness. 

Rhysand’s tone was full of finality. “This isn’t up for negotiation, Y/N.” Feyre and I will not send you to the Autumn Court by yourself.”

“I’m perfectly capable of—”

“I will not lose another sister!” snapped Rhysand.

The words settled uncomfortably over the group. Azriel could tell that the mention of Serena had quelled all the fight remaining in the assassin. Losing Rhysand’s sister was a burden that everyone carried, but it had been especially hard on her. If there was anyone in this world that knew the female beside him best, it had been Serena. When she died, the assassin distanced herself from everyone. Even Rhys. 

The shadowsinger found himself unable to face the haunted look in the assassin’s eyes. The striking golden color dulled to a pallid yellow, bearing the expression of a wounded animal. There was so much guilt swimming in that gaze and he knew the feeling all too well.

Feyre grasped the assassin’s fingers. “We just want to make sure that you’ll be safe. I know that you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself, but it won’t be easy to go back there. Maybe you’ll even come to appreciate the presence of a familiar face.”

Azriel highly doubted that, but the High Lady’s words seemed to placate the female for the moment. Her scrutinizing gaze flickered from Rhys to Feyre, at the united front that they represented, and by the resigned sigh that escaped the assassin’s lips, the shadowsinger guessed that she’d come to the same conclusion as he had moments ago. The High Lord and the High Lady would not compromise on this matter.

There was no room for argument after that. The assassin simply conceded with a terse nod. “It’s settled then. The shadowsinger will accompany me to the Autumn Court.” 

No one spoke as she directed a withering glare in Azriel’s direction before striding out of the study. He surveyed her retreating figure until she disappeared at the end of the hallway. 

Exhausted from the loaded exchange, his friends started filtering out one by one. Feyre and Mor shot him weary glances and tight smiles. Cassian clapped his back before following Nesta and Amren out the door. 

Stay, echoed Rhysand’s voice. 

The shadowsinger stayed put, watching silently as his brother shut the door and strode over to the bar cart. He grabbed two crystal glasses and a decanter filled with expensive whiskey before setting it down on the ornate wooden desk. Rhys settled into his leather chair just as Azriel took the seat across from him. 

“Drink?” Rhysand asked despite the fact that he was already halfway through filling the glasses. 

Azriel only nodded, taking the whiskey and swirling the amber liquid around as silence filled the room. The High Lord took a generous pull and grimaced. 

“That went about as well as I thought it would.”

The shadowsinger raised a brow. “Did you expect any better?” 

“No,” Rhys said, meeting his gaze. “I expected her resistance. Yours, too. Though I’m glad of its absence.”

“Don’t mistake my silence for agreement. I have my own apprehensions, but I figured you had your reasons.” Azriel took a sip of whiskey, savoring its smooth and smoky taste. “My spies have been working on infiltrating the Forest House for months. What changed your mind?” 

“Nothing. I have always known it would come to this. I hoped that your spies may be able to break through Beron’s defenses, but it’s impossible. Only someone with extensive knowledge of the Autumn Court could ever hope to succeed in stealing the scepter.” His brother rubbed his face, concern and worry contorting his features. “All these months, I was trying to stall the inevitable. I was trying to prevent this exact thing from happening. Asking Y/N to go on this mission isn’t something I take lightly.”

“I’m sure she knows that,” Azriel offered. “At least she’ll come to realize it after her temper has cooled.”

“I promised…I promised that I’d never let her go back there. But here I am, asking her to return to that wretched place.”

“It’s not without reason. The fate of the realm rests on this decision.”

“I know,” the High Lord breathed. “It doesn’t make it any easier. If anything happens to her — I’ll never — I can’t…”

I will not lose another sister. 

“It will be fine, Rhys.” Azriel found himself saying. “I’ve seen her cut down grown males without breaking a sweat. If anyone could pull this off, it’s Thorne.”

His brother released a shaky breath, seemingly reassured. Azriel continued. “In any case, I’ll be there to work alongside her. Speaking of which, how do you plan on convincing Beron to permit my entrance into the Autumn Court?”

The worried look returned all at once. Rhys toyed with the rim of his glass. “Leave that to me. For now, I need your word that you’ll do everything in your power to help with this mission. I know that there’s little love between you and Y/N, but you two are our only hope of stopping Beron.”

“If there’s enmity between us, it’s not a failure on my part. It’s not my fault that Thorne insists on being difficult at every turn.”

Rhysand sighed. “I know, but she has her reasons. All I’m asking is that you try.” He tapped his fingers on the wooden desk. “You’re the only one I can trust to have her back. I refuse to send her into that den of vipers alone.” 

Azriel rubbed his temples, feeling a headache coming on. Of all the impossible tasks his brother had asked of him, getting along with the hotheaded assassin seemed the most challenging. “I don’t suppose you’ll tell me why she left the Autumn Court in the first place.”

“It’s not my story to tell.” The High Lord shifted in his seat. “I know that the crypticism must be frustrating, but I can’t betray her trust like that. Besides, the reason for her exile will neither help nor harm the mission. The important thing is getting her in and out of the Autumn Court safely.”

Worry lined his brother’s features. “I wouldn’t normally ask this of you, but I need you to trust my judgment on this.”

However misguided Rhysand may be sometimes, the shadowsinger knew that he was coming from a place of good intentions. Azriel conceded with a sigh of long suffering. 

“Of course I trust you, Rhys.” He set his drink down and the glass rapped against the dark wood. “But I do have a few questions before I agree.”

“This power of hers,” Azriel began. “I know she can conjure nightmares and illusions based on people’s fears, but there’s something else, isn’t there? My shadows can sense it. I can sense it.” 

Rhysand went preternaturally still. His brother swallowed, glancing out the window. “You know that she wields the flames of the Autumn Court, given her heritage. Beron, Eris, Lucien…they merely summon fire, but Y/N is different. She is fire.”

Azriel blinked. “What do you mean?” 

“She’s a phoenix.” 

If being a shadowsinger was rare, then a phoenix was nearly unheard of. There were only a few known to history and the last of their kind died centuries before Azriel was even born. They tended to be few and far between mostly due to the volatile nature of their power. Aside from their psychic and empathic abilities, a phoenix was fire personified. Legend says that looking upon their true form was enough to drive one into madness. 

Azriel recalled Lord Covington’s pleas right before the shadowsinger transported him away to the Court of Nightmares. The young lord had groveled, had even asked for death, and had almost looked relieved once he was deposited into the dark, dreary dungeon. As if torture was a much better fate than facing the assassin again. Azriel had chalked it up to cowardice, but now he wondered what the male had seen that evoked such terror.

“Who else knows?” 

“No one besides Serena,” Rhys said with a pained voice. “And my sister took the secret to her grave. The only reason I found out was because I had to…” His eyes snapped shut. “After my sister died, Y/N lost control. Scared me half to death and nearly scorched all of Oorid in her wake. I managed to pull her out of it before she burned the swamp to cinders.”

“Fuck,” Azriel said softly. 

“That’s why I insisted on all of this. I need to know that she’ll be safe. From Beron and from herself.” Rhysand’s expression turned gravely serious. “Promise me, Az. Promise me that you’ll keep her safe.”

“Why me?”

His brother blinked, weighing his words. “Because you two are more alike than you know.”

“If she’s truly that powerful, I highly doubt that she needs me to look after her.” 

There was a sort of sadness in the High Lord’s gaze as he looked over at the shadowsinger. “You’d be surprised,” Rhys murmured. “Despite how Y/N may act, she’s not as strong as she looks.”

It seemed absurd for Rhysand to say that about a phoenix, but Azriel supposed his brother was the only person alive who knew the assassin better than she knew herself. Setting aside his own complicated feelings, the shadowsinger agreed to the High Lord’s plea. 

With the conversation weighing heavy on both of them, Azriel bid his brother goodbye. He walked out of Rhysand’s office with his head hung low, unable to see anything in the darkness of the hallway but that same haunted look in the assassin’s eyes from earlier that night. 

The image would plague him for days to come.

She’s not as strong as she looks. 

₊˚⊹♡ thank you for reading. as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated. feel free to drop an ask too — i’d love to yap & chat with you all.

taglist: @fuckingsimp4azriel @onebadassunicorn-blog @acourtofbatboydreams @marina468 @ly--canthrope

[queenofterrasen418]

Cruel Fates (Part 3)

Pairing: Azriel x f!Reader, little Eris x f!Reader

Summary: Azriel is your mate but only you know it. You are very aware that he has eyes for someone else and thus you decide not to hide it forever. After all, what could go wrong right?

Warnings: Angst, again.

3.1K words

A/N: Thank you @vanserrasimp for your ideas!!!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4

“Do you want some more water?” Feyre asked softly, her brows knitted with concern. You shook your head slowly, your gaze lost in the shadows of Rhys’s study, overwhelmed by the storm of thoughts in your mind.

“What happened, Y/N?” Rhys’s voice was gentle, but his eyes were intense, probing. They sat across from you like worried parents, and you sighed, lifting your eyes to meet theirs. Slowly, you recounted the meeting with Eris.

“Beron and a human queen?” Feyre repeated, her voice tinged with disbelief.

“He spoke true. I saw their correspondences with my own eyes,” you replied, the memory still fresh and unsettling.

“So he wants to join forces with us so he can rule,” Rhys mused, the wheels already turning in his mind.

 “And he proposed a marriage alliance between us.” You finished his sentence.

Their eyes widened, and Rhys gestured for you to continue.

“He said our powers together would be formidable and the alliance would be very convenient. I told him I’d consider it.”

“Are you insane?” Feyre frowned, disbelief colouring her tone. “Why would you even think about it?”

“Because he had a point,” you answered, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “It would benefit both courts, and before you question his sincerity, let me assure you, he was.”

You turned to Rhys, searching for his reaction. He simply asked, “What did Azriel say?”

“That’s where things got messy,” you admitted, recounting Azriel’s outburst and Eris’s proposal. When Azriel brought up the mating bond, it made you snap.

Rhys’s brow furrowed as you spoke, a knowing look passing between you.

Feyre noticed his reaction and asked, “What am I missing?”

He shrugged in an ‘ask her’ manner.

“Azriel is my mate.”

“WHAT!?” Feyre’s eyes widened in shock.

“I’ve known for a few months. I didn’t want to tell him, considering everything with his love life.”

“And now she downright denied that she has a mate,” Rhys concluded, shaking his head slightly.

Feyre buried her head in her palms for a few moments before looking back at you with a mix of disbelief and sympathy. “You lied to him.”

“I didn’t plan to,” you said, frustration lacing your words. “I’m not sure what came over me.” Even as you tried to defend your actions, you knew you had messed up.

Rhys, who had been silent, suddenly perked up. “He knows!”

“Huh?” Blood drained from your face.

“He brought up the mating bond and was against even the idea of a marriage with Eris. He knows you're his mate.”

“He said he cares because I’m important to you, and he hates Eris on a normal day, let alone when he asked for my hand.”

“Fine, but how will you argue with him bringing up the bond point?” Rhys pressed.

“I don’t know. Maybe he assumed I’d have a mate too, considering the rest of my sisters do?”

Rhys thought about it for a while and shook his head. “I still feel like he’s aware of his mating bond, too. He probably didn’t tell you yet.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. “I have legitimate reasons for not telling him. What does he have?”

“And what are those reasons exactly?” Feyre inquired curiously.

“One, he is in love with Elain, and she is also in love with him. Everyone knows that. Second, the mating bond is forever. It is permanent and painful. I have seen people fall in love easily and fall out just as easily. If ‘love’ can’t get through a mortal lifespan, how can it withstand an immortal one? Accepting the mating bond will only lead to pain, one way or the other.”

Feyre’s eyes narrowed while Rhys’s were filled with pity. You knew your views on love were not popular. You weren’t a pessimist, just someone who saw the world as it was. You wanted to believe in love so badly, but your past had taught you better. Rejecting the mating bond was far less painful than getting rejected.

After a few beats of silence, Feyre spoke in a haunted whisper, “I truly am sorry for you, sister. Whatever pain you’re trying to avoid will come no matter what. But when it does, don’t blame the bond. Blame yourself.”

Azriel

To say Azriel was confused was an understatement. He had never really understood Y/N, not that he'd ever made much of an effort to, but now he desperately wished he had. He had always thought of her as smart and careful, but not reckless. A child would know Eris was bad news. What was she thinking when she said she’d consider his proposal? Azriel was not a male to lose his temper, but she made him go feral. Ever since Y/N winnowed out of that room, her words constantly echoed in his mind. She asked him why he cared, and he did not know. He simply did, right? And what did she mean by “I don’t have a mate”? Did she just assume she didn’t, or did her mate die? Why was Y/N so furious at him?

He needed answers, and he knew who had them: Rhys. Which is exactly why he stood in front of his high lord on the balcony of the River House.

“Ask her, Az,” was the only response he got from him.

“Uh, why didn’t I think of that? Maybe because she asked me to stay out of her life?” Azriel said in a dry tone.

Rhys sighed. “It’s not my story to tell, assuming there is a story.”

“There is.”

“Then ask Y/N.” Rhys shrugged. “Or don’t.”

The spymaster could not remember when was the last time he was this crazed out. He was well aware of how unreasonable his reaction to this whole show was, but he couldn’t help himself when he asked, “How could you let her marry Eris?”

Rhys gave him a pointed look, his eyebrows raised. “One, she hasn’t decided yet, and two, no one lets Y/N do anything, let alone me.”

Azriel shook his head, at himself for his poor wording and at Y/N for her poor decision-making.

“She’s new to all this. Maybe she doesn’t know how Eris is.”

“She says Eris spoke true, and I believe her. Even a mind reader can be fooled when you practice enough, but you can’t fool her powers. Nothing escapes her, Az.”

True, very, very, very true. Azriel knew it, and yet he couldn’t accept it.

It was when his brother asked, “Why are you so bothered by it?” that he realized he didn’t fucking know. 

Why was he bothered by it? Why did he care? Why?

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t.”

“Hmm.”

“What does that mean?” His eyes narrowed at his high lord.

“Nothing. Just speak with her? Maybe you’ll know.” Cauldron, he wished it was that easy. Y/N was a mystery to him, a stranger. It didn’t feel right to ask her. He wished he knew her well like Rhys and Cass do. The only thing he knew was that she was powerful and dangerous.

“She might kill me.”

Rhys laughed at that. “Then give her some time.”

A whisper of a shadow brushed his ear. But you also know she is loved, how your family cherishes her.

Y/N

You walked through the corridors of the River House, your mind a whirlwind of confusion after your conversation with Rhys and Feyre. Your decision to keep your bond with Azriel a secret weighed heavily on you, but the thought of facing him—and the inevitable pain it would bring—was even more daunting. And then there was Eris. He occupied your thoughts equally, but you welcomed it; he was a very pleasant distraction, but the thought of Azriel interfered there too. Why was he so against Eris? Was Rhys right? Did he know about the bond? As your head swarmed with even more questions, you decided you needed some quiet, some space, a moment to breathe and process everything, away from bonds, decisions, and the pressure of court politics.

As you turned a corner, you heard soft voices coming from the garden. Curiosity got the better of you, and you slowed your pace, your footsteps quiet on the stone floor like a wraith. Peering through the open archway, you saw Azriel and Elain standing amidst the blooming roses, their figures bathed in the golden glow of the afternoon sun. 

Wonderful, you thought to yourself, this is exactly what I needed right now.

You knew you had to get out of there; witnessing whatever was going on between them was a terrible idea, but you found your feet stubbornly rooted to the ground.

Azriel's back was to you, his wings slightly drooped as he spoke to Elain. You couldn't make out their words at first, but the tender expression on Elain's face and the way she gently touched his arm spoke volumes. A pang of something sharp and bitter twisted in your chest, a feeling you couldn't quite name or rather refused to, but you recognized it all the same.

Azriel looked at Elain like she was the sun, the light to his shadows, his eyes filled with an emotion that you deep down wished was directed at you, to feel the warmth and certainty of it. But another part of you recoiled, reminding yourself of the pain that love could bring, the scars it could leave behind.

Thanks to your fae ears, Elain's voice carried over the breeze, soft and melodic. "Azriel, you deserve to be happy. To find someone who truly sees you."

Azriel nodded, a faint, wistful smile touching his lips. "I thought...maybe I could be that person for you, Elain. Maybe we could be right for each other."

Your heart clenched at his admission. Leave, Y/N, leave, your brain urged, but you didn’t. Despite everything, it was clear that Azriel's heart leaned toward Elain, and he was still chasing the idea of love he believed they could have. Yet, as you watched, you noticed something in Elain's eyes—sympathy. She seemed to understand Azriel's confusion.

Elain gave him a gentle smile, her eyes kind yet firm. "Azriel, you've been a wonderful friend. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you truly want."

He nodded, though his expression remained troubled. "I just want to do what's right. I pined for Mor, but that was just a wishful dream, and then you came. All signs pointed to you. I just want to be with someone who fits."

Apparently, that was enough pain for your heart, so finally, you took a step back, your heart heavy with the realization of Azriel’s struggle to find where he belonged, to understand the love he craved. But the sight of him seeking comfort in Elain's presence confirmed your doubts. It was enough to solidify your resolve. He was searching for something in Elain that he yearned for, and it looked like he found it, and it hurt you more than you wanted to admit.

You had to protect yourself. You couldn't risk exposing the bond, not when Azriel's heart was clearly elsewhere. The risk of rejection, of enduring the inevitable heartbreak, was too great. It was certain; it was no longer just a possibility.

You retreated down the corridor, determination settling in your chest like a cold, hard stone. You would accept Eris's proposal. It was the logical choice—the safe choice. An alliance with Eris would protect your heart and the Night Court. And if it meant denying the bond you felt with Azriel, so be it. This was not the first time the bond was denied, and it wouldn’t be the last. At least this way, you would be spared the pain of seeing Azriel look at Elain with love that wasn't meant for you.

Your footsteps echoed in the quiet halls as you made your way to your chambers. Each step felt heavier than the last, burdened with the weight of your decision. You had a choice to finalize and preparations to make. The path ahead was clear. It was time you started to face destiny on your terms.

Reaching your chambers, you closed the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the emotions threatening to overwhelm you. You had always been strong and always made the difficult choices. This was no different. You would marry Eris, forge the alliance that would protect Prythian, and bury the bond deep within yourself, where it could no longer hurt you.

As you stood there, alone in the dim light of your room, you allowed yourself one moment of vulnerability. A single tear slipped down your cheek, which you quickly wiped away as you squared your shoulders. Determined, you sat at your desk and reached for a parchment and quill.

Dear Prince Eris,

I hope this letter finds you well. After giving it a lot of thought, I’ve come to a decision about your proposal. Let’s discuss it further at the Midnight Solstice Ball in the Hewn City. It’ll be a good chance for us to talk privately and to discuss more about our deal. I’ll give you my answer then, but I think you’ll find it worth the wait. Until that time, I trust you’ll keep this between us.

Looking forward to seeing you,

Y/N

Azriel

The conversation with Rhys replayed in Azriel's mind as he made his way through the corridors of the River House, the sound of his footsteps a dull echo. Why are you so bothered by it? Rhys's question had struck a chord within him, and Azriel found himself restless and searching for answers he couldn't quite grasp. He needed clarity—needed to understand what was happening between him and Y/N.

As he reached the garden, he saw Elain among the blooming roses, her presence as serene as the morning sun. Azriel hesitated at the threshold, a familiar mix of comfort and uncertainty settling in his chest. Elain was his friend, someone he could confide in without fear of judgment, and yet a part of him wondered if she could help him understand Y/N's behaviour.

"Azriel?" Elain's voice was gentle as she turned to him, a welcoming smile on her lips. "What brings you here?"

He approached her slowly, the scent of roses mingling with the crisp morning air. "I needed someone to talk to," he admitted, his voice rough with the weight of unspoken thoughts. "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," she replied, gesturing for him to sit beside her on the garden bench. "What's on your mind?"

Azriel sat down, his wings folding neatly behind him as he stared at the vibrant flowers. He struggled to find the right words, unsure of how much to reveal. "It's about Y/N," he finally said, glancing at Elain to gauge her reaction.

Elain's expression softened with understanding. "I heard there's been some tension," she said. "Is everything alright between you two?"

He shook his head, frustration creeping into his voice. "I wish I knew. She... she makes it difficult to understand her. I thought I knew her, but now I'm not so sure." He paused for a moment, trying to organize his thoughts, “I...I don’t understand her,” his voice strained. “She told me she doesn’t have a mate, but that’s not true, i gathered that much from Rhys. And then there’s Eris. She’s considering marrying him, and I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”

Elain’s gaze softened, and she reached out, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “Azriel, Y/N is a complicated person. She’s been through a lot. Maybe she’s scared.”

“Scared of what?” he asked, his frustration evident. “I just want to understand her, to know why she’s doing this.”

Elain sighed, looking thoughtful. “Sometimes, people lie about things because they think it’s the only way to protect themselves. Maybe she’s afraid of the bond, of what it means.”

Azriel clenched his fists, trying to suppress the anger and confusion roiling inside him. “But why would she lie to me? Why not just tell me the truth?”

Elain shook her head. “It’s not always that simple, Azriel. Bonds are...intense. They can be overwhelming. Maybe she’s trying to herself from getting hurt.”

“I feel like I’m missing something, like an important piece in a puzzle.”, he confessed.

Elain turned to him and offered one of those healing smiles, “Time will tell, Az. You shouldn't worry yourself too much.”

He nodded, right now he just needed to wait.

A few minutes passed as they both sat in silence, taking in the beautiful garden.

He turned to her, taking in her gentle presence. There was a time when he had believed she might be the one to fill the void in his heart, but now he questioned everything he had assumed. "Elain, I've been thinking," he began, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

Elain gave him an encouraging smile, her eyes filled with understanding. "What is it, Azriel?"

“I have been searching for love for a very long time but I never felt like I deserved it.” He admitted to her. 

Elain’s eyes furrowed as she placed a comforting hand on his arm,  "Azriel, you deserve to be happy. To find someone who truly sees you."

Azriel nodded, and a sorrowful smile graced his lips. "I thought...maybe I could be that person for you, Elain. Maybe we could be right for each other."

Elain sighed softly as she spoke, "Azriel, you've been a wonderful friend. But you need to be honest with yourself about what you truly want."

He nodded, as he searched for words, "I just want to do what's right. I pined for Mor, but that was just a wishful dream, and then you came. All signs pointed to you. I just want to be with someone who fits."

Elain remained silent as she listened to him, “But I think I made you seem like something you are not, you are one of my closest confidantes but I thought or rather hoped we’d be more. I was desperate to have something that my brothers had, so much so that, I was sure you were my answer.” he paused, "I wanted to be the person for you, Elain. I thought that the cauldron was mistaken, but now I see that I've been chasing something that isn't meant to be." 

"But I've realized," Azriel continued, "that while we share something special, it's not the kind of love I thought I was looking for. We're better as friends, aren't we?"

Elain nodded, her smile warm and understanding. "I think so too. We have a bond, Azriel, but it's different from what you have with Y/N."

He let out a soft chuckle, the sound tinged with relief. "I suppose I've been chasing shadows, hoping to find the light in the wrong places."

Elain nodded, understanding in her eyes. "It's okay to want love, Azriel. But maybe you need to look beyond the obvious, beyond what's easy."

Next Part

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