#mor gifs midnight

[christakisbang]

chan's room + comforting words

[liyazaki]

midnight series teaser

[casuallivi]

The Midnight Kiss

I live bitches! barely lol. Slow and steady wins the race, they say. Hope that shit is true. 🤷

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 7: Here comes Jhonny

Morrigan Moretti never cared much for her catholic background.

For a spoiled little girl approaching the age of twelve, being catholic only meant Sunday mornings were reserved for church or else her nonna would have a fit. But going to church didn’t mean Morrigan attended the mass, no. The girl was well accustomed to finding her way to the backdoor, killing time behind the opulent white building till her grandma had enough of singing hymns.

In a boring Sunday mid spring, Morrigan snuck out of to find a boy sitting by the shade of a tree, their faithful meeting changing the curse of her life forever.

“What is this?” Morrigan scrunched her nose, looking over the little boy’s shoulder.

“A magazine.”

Mor squinted at the black woman in a yellow two piece sprawled on a beach towel, before her lips quirked in a sneer. Did this boy bring porn to church?

“A dirty magazine?”

She had seen naked women in her father’s hidden magazines before. And she was not impressed.

“A fashion magazine.” The boy corrected impatiently.

Oh, he did not have porn then. But his answer somehow made it all worse. What was a boy doing with a fashion magazine?

“That’s for girls,” she snickered under her breath.

The girly boy did not seem to like her words, because next thing she knew vexed hazel eyes cut to her so harshly, Mor flinched. Over his left brow, a pink cartoon band-aid creased.

“Fashion is for everybody."

With sharp page flip, he dismissed her completely, grabbing the pencil behind his ear to make annotations alongside the margin. In her short twelve years of life, few were the times Morrigan was ignored.

Okay, who was this boy?

She sat beside him on the steps, attempting to lure the boy back in conversation.

“I never saw a boy with a magazine like that,” then, when she had no answer, “have a dress that color…”

“Is it fun?” She tried again.

“…”

“Can I see it with you?”

No matter how hard she tried, the boy continued to ignored her, going as far as turning his back to her, making little Morrigan baffled. Huffing, she got up, cleaning her behind, eyeing the handkerchief under his butt, stopping his grey suit from getting dirty.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” She exploded, getting angrier by the minute.

Now she was really annoyed with him. He must not have recognized her, or know about her, because everyone in this town knew Morrigan Moretti was to be treated as nothing short of a princess.

Being the only child in a family were couples had a hard time conceiving lead Mor to grow used to being doted and catered for. House in the suburbs, private school, tutoring sessions, ballet lessons, and her long-life membership to the bay area Young Promising Ladies Club –which was passed down from mother to daughter– made sure she was well-educated and fine breeding lady who charmed everyone in the vicinity. Being a beautiful blonde, taller than most girls her age, with alabaster skin – which strayed from the general olive-ish tone of the Morettis – and the owner of a peculiar pair of brown eyes didn’t hurt either.

Everyone loved cute little girls, and Morrigan Moretti was cute as they come, never struggling for attention a day of her life.

Crossing her arms, Mor glared at the boy.

Despite his suit being perfectly pressed, and his black hair being meticulously combed to the side, she could see pink cuts coming out of the collar of his shirt, scratch marks on his wrists, and another colorful band-aid across his knuckles. All those cuts and bruises screamed trouble-maker to her.

How dare this shorty, trouble-maker, ignore her? Weirdo.

Feeling extremely irritated that he paid her no attention, her eyes set on the oh-so-precious object in his hands.

“You are very rude!” Morrigan said, kicking the magazine out of his hands. The boy gasped as the copy landed in a mud puddle, finally giving her what she wanted, and would want from him from that day onward: attention. “Oops. Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry one bit.

Serves him right for ignoring her.

The boy opened his mouth, but no sound came out, instead, the loud bells signaling the end of the mass caught her attention. At that moment, the big oak double-doors opened, a flock of elderly, couples and dutiful children spilling outside.

“Morrigan!” The happy voice of her noona reached her. “There you are, sweety. Come here child, I want to introduce you to my friend. Sofia, here she is. This is my granddaughter, Morrigan.”

Sofia turned out to be her noona’s best friend, who gave Mor a big huge and stained her cheeks red with lipstick. Discreetly, the blond girl cleaned her cheeks, feigning the polite expression she had long mastered. While cleaning herself, Mor payed little attention to the elderly women, eyes set on the boy swaggering towards them till he was standing behind Sofia. This boy looked nothing like the presentable boys she usually saw at church.

This one looked a foot taller than her, older too, with pants that barely reached his sockless ankles, sporting a loose faded-red tie which hanging from under the collar of his wrinkled shirt, a loud Gameboy firm in hand. He eyed him from head to toe, brow rising at the pink scratch marks on his cheek. The worst part was his hair: long enough to be tied at his nape with an ugly leather band. Ugh, she hated boys with girls’ hair. Morrigan made a face while he wasn’t looking.

When she was done analyzing the boy, Mor payed attention to her grandmother’s conversation, soon discovering the little hobo cosplay, and the boy who annoyed her earlier, were Sofia’s grandsons, who were moving in with her and would now be “a part of their community”.Her nonna was over the moon with the news, Mor not so much.

The weirdo’s name was Azriel. His older brother, Cassian.

When Sofia ordered the boys to greet her, Azriel merely nodded. She glared at the shorty, now hiding behind his noona.

“He’s a shy kid.” She smiled, patting his shoulder.

Mor couldn’t tell if he was really shy or resentful at her, but the one called Cassian seemed to be his opposite.

Cassian introduced himself without waiting for his grandma’s command, beaming as he kissed her hand, going on and on about how it was a pleasure to meet the pretty little girl he had heard so much about. Despite the gesture not being uncommon to Mor, who was used to people of all ages fussing over her, calling her pretty, granting all of her wishes, she liked him instantly.

Her noona, on the other hand, had no interest in Sofia’s older grandson, eyes shining only to Azriel, rushing him from behind Sofia, holding him and Mor close together.

“He’s your age, bambina. You are going to be best friends just like Sofia and I. I can tell.”

The two old ladies laughed.

Mor didn’t.

At the time, Morrigan had no idea how close she and Azriel would grow to be. Close enough to spend a decade in a relationship, flirting their way into it long before that.

Now they were no more.

Azriel had cut ties with her.

Their break up was no news to Morrigan. Azriel had done it a couple times before, set on separating his life from hers.

“I’m unhappy. I can’t do this anymore, Mor. I can’t.” He said the last time, breaking up with her again. “I’m done. I’m sorry, but I’m done.” “I won’t take your calls, I won’t answer the door, I won’t see you. We’ve been through so much, I don’t know – I don’t know how to stay friends with you. I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry it has to be like this, but this is the only way for us.”

Mor let him go that night, as she constantly did when she felt too tired to deal with his bullshit. Always something with that one.

Azriel had been hers for decades. She knew it was better to let him cool down, give him a few days and he’d be back to her again. Deep down Morrigan liked Azriel. The problem was Azriel was as emotional guy who like a boring monogamous relationship, and sometimes a girl needed a little break from routine. Not that she would not return to him afterwards. Mor always returned to Azriel’s side. There was nothing on this earth capable of separating them. Morrigan was a model because of him, Azriel worked for a fashion magazine because of her, their lives were way too intertwined to go on without the other.

So they lived like that. Morrigan gave him enough to keep him satisfy, hoping he could keep her satisfy, but he could. She would get bored, and he would want more, because Azriel always wanted more. He wanted full commitment, marriage, a house with dogs and kids. Morrigan wanted freedom, to enjoy life. So they’d start fighting, and she’d would get sick of him, letting him go for a while to cool down while she enjoyed the perks of the single life. Then, when things got boring again, she’d return to his side. Return to the man who loved her more than life itself.

Morrigan Moretti knew she’d marry Azriel Marino.

Eventually.

For as long as Mor could remember, Azriel had been irrevocably and undeniably in love with her. And for as long as she could remember, Mor had been irrevocably and undeniably in love with being loved by him.

In all honesty, Mor did not make it easy for him when they were kids, but to his credit, Azriel was not dissuaded by her hard personality. No one, in the whole world, loved her like Azriel did. In their twenties, Azriel dropped out of his dream college in Milan to move to Atlanta, because Mor was casted by a model agency in the city, and was “scared to be alone” there. One call. All it took for him to give up his dream and support hers was one phone call and a couple of fake tears while she painted her toenails.

Azriel went back to finish college later, but not before she turned into a runway model and moved to Milan herself, signing with a new, bigger agency. The little boy whose magazine she kicked grow into a man who had no difficulty in molding his life around hers, dedicating all of his free time to take care of her schedule, take care of her, so of course, Mor would reward him by settling down at his side.

Could you blame her for wanting to life her life before settling down? It was only fair to have some fun before being someone’s wife. Afterall, no matter how many times they broke up, they always got back together. Always.

Lately, one thing had been keeping her on edge, though.

Their break was too long.

This time Azriel had been taking his sweet time to crawl back to her side, longer than he ever did before. So long that Morrigan ended up hooking up with his brother.

Again.

Azriel didn’t know, would never know, but Morrigan had lost her virginity to Cassian. Had have a couple of one-nights with him along the years as well. She would never assume him, of course. If Mor wasn’t willing to lost her freedom in prol of Az, who never touched another woman in his life, imagine losing it to his man-whore of a brother, who loved no one but himself. Morrigan refused to be owned, she didn’t want a man to have that kind of power over her. And being owned by Cassian was beyond absurd.

“You’re coming with me to the office Christmas party.” Cassian announced one night, stripping his shorts. Morrigan hated how he wore short everywhere, like a young boy refusing to grow up. Would it kill him to put on some pants? Wear suits more than once a year? “What for?” Mor asked, unzipping her dress. “I need a girlfriend. The new shareholders will be there. They’ll feel more confident in the investment once they see me as a family-oriented kind of guy.” She waited for him to laugh, to tell her it was a joke. When he didn’t, Morrigan laughed and laughed, turning red in the face. “What’s so funny?” “You.” “Me?’ “You.” She repeated, “thinking I’m your girlfriend.” Cassian placed his hands on his hips, not amused. “You are my girlfriend.” “I’m no one’s girlfriend.” She was no one’s. Feeling the mood turn sour, Morrigan got of the bed. Cassian grabbed her arm before she took another step. “Let go, Cass.” “I’m not done talking to you.” “Well, I am. Let go.” “Still scared of relationships, blondie?” “I’m not scared, let me go.” “Get over yourself, Mor. You are not a fucking child anymore. You’ll fuck me every other night but won’t date me? Cut the horseshit. We are going, playing the happy lovable couple, then we’ll come back here and I’ll give a reward.” He moved her hand to his groin, show her exactly what she was getting. “I don’t want your shabby reward!” she spat at him. “You sure? Let me chance your mind, then.” Under heavy protest, Cassian threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the bathroom, showing Morrigan the kind of rewards he had in mind.

True to her word, Mor didn’t go to Cassian’s stupid Christmas party… but she couldn’t escape his stupid New Year’s Eve party.

Cassian had nothing to do with that, of course. Going to that party was the only way she had of seeing Azriel, who was also being true to his word, cutting all contact since their latest break up. Her calls weren’t answered, his doorman wouldn’t let her up anymore, her threatening texts were ignored, and the one time she managed to see him, Mor had to beguile Cassian into convincing his brother she was the perfect model to appear in Marino’s cover. To the increase of her stress, Azriel had remained strictly professional during the shooting, ignoring her efforts to meet afterhours. And then, at that awful karaoke party, he had the audacity of kissing someone else.

Dressed in an elegant black cocktail gown, Mor sipped her wine, eyes trained at the table on the far end of the restaurant; a table Azriel shared with no other than her.

Her.

The poorly dressed child-like woman she saw him kissing that night.

The same woman Cassian, for some reason, judge worthy of receiving a separate introduction during New Year’s Eve. Oh, Mor noticed their matching shirts instantly. She also noticed the dumb stunned look in her face when Cassian called Mor his girlfriend. That woman wanted to fuck Cass. Badly. Which let Mor utterly confused when she spied her all over Az. Her Az.

Despite being emotional one in their relationship, there was one thing Azriel and Mor had in common: Az did not like public displays of affection. Never had. Yet, he let himself be kissed just to spite her. Now here he was, going as far as taking that woman out, pretending to be on a date, doing everything in his power to make her jealous.

Mor blinked at the sight of the lousy girl.

What was her name again? Elide? Elisa? Elena? Well, who cares!

In the back of her mind, Morrigan had a faint memory of that woman being on set the day she posed for Marinos. She also remembered not liking her one bit. Too bubbly for her taste, too excited, too… happy. No one was that happy. Besides, A woman like Elisa would never attract Azriel in a million years. His taste ran on the refined side of things, not on women who dressed in shirts with comics printed on it. He should have chosen a better partner to pretend to be with.

That day Mor left the studio with a searing headache after spending half the day listening to distasteful jokes being traded left and right between Elena and Cassian –who was also present the shooting, despite her explicitly asking him not to– acting as if they were two pre-teens in a locker room. The other half consisted in her and Azriel going back and forth in a thousand of small irrelevant discussions that no one else seemed to follow.

Mor pushed her sunglasses up, stunned by the way the woman pointed her finger in Az' face. Their yelling getting louder. “Ignore them. We all do.” Cassian advised her. “You should call security.” “Nah, Ellie is not violent.” He slid his arm across her shoulders. “This is nothing, you should have seen the May shooting. She threw a binder at him.” “She did what?” “Don’t worry. They’ll reach an agreement in a sec.” “This is absurd.” “Nope, just another day with Az and Ellie. Believe me, I get tired of it too.” “Why don’t you fire her?” “Can’t.” “Why?” “Azzy won’t let me.” At that, Mor frowned. Why wouldn’t Az fire someone he couldn’t work with?” “Why?” Cassian shrugged. “Beats me. Az turns me down every time I found a replacement. Said is a hassle to train someone else when Elain gets him.”

The whole conversation made no sense to Morrigan. The more she watched them, the more out of character Az acted. Contrary to what she had seen him do countless times in the past, Azriel did not order the photographer around. He did threaten to fire her countless times, but everyone could see he didn’t mean it. The worst part was watching him discussing ideas with her, listening to hers as well, going as far as incorporating her inputs in the itinerary.

That day Morrigan caught Azriel doing a measly a staff’s job because she asked him to.

Mor returned from reapplying make up, to catch Azriel and the photographer mid conversation, the couple conversing quietly in the corner of the set. “Marino,” “No.” “Marino, please!” “I said no.” “I keep getting shadows in her face.” “Have her under another light stand.” “I can’t! This is her best angle so far, I don’t want to lose it.” Azriel rubbed his temple. “Just photoshop the shadows away.” “You’re the one spanking my ass the other day for using too much photoshop!” Azriel’s ears turned pink. “I spanked no one’s ass!” he hushed stressed. “Figure of speech. Help me out, will ya?” “What do you want me to do, Archeron? There’s no electrician here.” “Hold it for me, please?” Elain held his hand in hers, bouncing up and down while blinking repeatedly. “Twenty minutes tops. Promise.” Struggling, Azriel pulled his hand from her grip, cleaning them with his pocket square. “Don’t be stupid, I won’t hold a light for twenty minutes ‘cause you want me to.”

As if the dialogue itself wasn’t bizarre, to see Azriel taking off his shoes to step in the sterile zone to hold a light stand had Morrigan shocked.

And as she sat here, in this restaurant, watching him hold the photographer’s hands, kissing her palms without a care in the world, Mor’s hatred for the yapping-girl ten folded.

Mor snickered into her glass, finding it funny how Azriel was doing everything in his power to get her attention. She didn’t know why he bother parading that one around. Soon she’d be nothing but a smudge in his latest attempt to break up with her. All those who came before her didn’t get a second date, this one would not either. Azriel Marino was obsessed with Morrigan Moretti, there was no space for anyone else in his heart, nor his mind.

In the distance, Azriel fixed the girl’s frizzy hair behind her ear, pinching the tacky earring daggling in her lobe. Mor's intention to sip her wine was replaced by her downing the entire goblet.

“How’s your lobster?” Her boring, bald, partner’s question caught her by surprise, bringing Mor’s attention back to her own table.

She sliced a piece of meat, curling her lips around her fork with an exaggerated moan.

“Delicious.”

Her companion’s eyes gleamed with malice.

She gave him a sultry smile, but in her mind, Mor was already back to ignoring him.

Azriel having a “date” in the same restaurant she was meeting with her newest spoon was no coincidence. The man new everything about her, there was no way he came here not knowing she had this dinner schedule for tonight. Stalker much? The boring man served her more wine, which Morrigan gladly accepted.

Well, since Azriel was trying his best to get her attention, Mor would be generous and grant his wish. After she was done with this sponsor, she’d visit Azriel to do what she did best: speed the inevitable end of his doomed relationship. And Azriel would go back to doing what he did best: pine for her.

~~~~~~~~~~

[myriamas]

who: @morsmartelll​ where: the prince’s private chambers in sunspear, the night before the court are set to depart for highgarden. 

the large doors leading into the watergardens were wide open, open enough for myriam allyrion to hear the sound of the peacocks in the gardens as well as the sound of the fountains floating through the night. someone was singing somewhere in one of the courtyards, with a voice that sounded like heartbreak and symphony all wrapped into one, over the sounds of the singing peacocks. she remained sat upon a velvet recliner within the chambers of her husband, watching him with his parchment and the charcoal he used to sketch such ideas for what he wanted to leave behind in dorne. 

pieces of architecture so complex in their patterns of symmetry and mosaic it would no doubt take years to complete such works, and yet she knew it were something he wished to pursue. 

would they ever see them? there were certain things that the reigning prince of dorne did not wish to waste funds or attention on, and as much as her husband tried his hardest to find a balance between his own vision for dorne and that which his father wanted, she knew it were an impossible task when the two were so different. for how many years had he put aside his wants and his thoughts, for the sake of duty? for how many years had she put aside her own wants and thoughts, for the sake of duty? perhaps the levels of freedom and happiness he had always ensured to grant her were only a reflection of the little he felt like he had. 

she remained sat upon the recliner, watching the light of the moon bounce against the dark tresses of his hair that fell slightly over his eyes. and it felt as though she were watching the sunrise and the sunset all at once. wordlessly, she rose to her feet, making her way onto the balcony to join him in the night air; there was no need to speak, for he would have heard the jingle of her anklets. her bangles. slipping into the space seamlessly beside him, as there had always been a space for her beside him all these years...all fifteen of them. 

“and what is this one supposed to be?” she asked, referring to the sketch upon the parchment.

her hand rested upon the mosaic tile that protected them from the drop below, leaning upon it as she peered over at his sketch. only, her wide almond kohl lined orbs only looked up at him. something on the very tip of her tongue, something that she wished to ask. something else that she wished to say. why it felt as though something had come to an end. that when she looked upon him, she loved him. she loved him so. she loved him fiercely. she was not in love with him. 

[florencemtrash]

In a year's time - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, jealous Azriel, fluff

Masterlist of Masterlists

"But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him."

Mor narrowed her eyes at the Shadowsinger, watching as he adjusted the collar of his newly tailored suit jacket and then combined his hair back with scarred fingers. 

Azriel had always been annoyingly beautiful - even during their middling years when their voices cracked and they hadn’t yet grown into their long, slender limbs - and so he’d never needed to take special care of his appearance. His hair dried in perfect waves, his skin was smooth and clean despite the scars, and his training had carved out a silhouette as strong and capable as it was alluring. So why did he keep smoothing down his waistcoat like he was nervous?

Mor darted out a tongue, cleaning up the drop of wine that threatened to fall from her ruby red lips, “Azriel? What in the Mother’s name are you doing?” 

His eyes barely flicked over to where she lay sprawled out on his bed. She had no intention of attending this ball sober, and if the near empty bottle of wine balanced precariously against her knee was any indication, she would exceed her goal before they even stepped outside his bedroom. 

He picked up the tie - midnight blue and hand-embroidered with silver thread - and flung it around his neck.

“Getting ready for the ball.” He answered blandly.

She rolled her eyes, “Obviously,” then continued to stare at him expectantly as he finished knotting the tie, folded his pocket square, and then slid his weapons into place as a last measure, cobalt blue siphons flashing from the backs of his hands. 

It clicked all at once as he strolled for the door, forcing Mor to abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle. 

“Oh my gods.” She said, mouth agape. Her shoes clicked along the marble floors of the River House like the beating of drums. 

Azriel groaned internally. Even tipsy and wearing seven-inch heels, Mor kept up with his long strides easily, prodding his side accusingly with her wine bottle. It magically refilled itself with every jab.

“You’re trying to impress Y/n!” 

Suddenly it was as obvious as the sun rising in the east. He’d chosen the tie you complimented him on last Starfall, despite his hatred of its fanciful nature. He was wearing the silver moonstone cufflinks you’d bought him for his birthday. He’d even combed his hair because he knew you’d notice and muss it up for him.

“Mor-” He warned, color beginning to dust his cheeks. His shadows darted around the hallway, climbing the velvet curtains and peering around the corners to watch for any potential eavesdropping. 

“I knew it! I knew it!” She said, swatting him with a frustrated hand. Her red silk dress clung to her waist and thighs before fluttering out in a halo around her knees as she chased after him, aiming to slap him across the head. 

Azriel stopped in his tracks and grabbed at her wrists, desperately hoping no one else in the house had left their rooms yet. If he was really lucky, the two mated couples would be making enough noise of their own to drown out Mor’s excitement.

“Mor, stop it. And be quiet.”

“You loooove her.” She crowed, dragging out the sound. Suddenly she straightened up, hands on her hips and frowning, “Is that why you’ve been so irritable lately? Because you miss her?” 

Azriel said nothing, gave away nothing, even though Mor had hit the nail on the head in her drunken stupor. 

It had been a great honor when Thesan offered to take you under his wing and train you personally. More than a favor to Rhysand, he’d seen your healing talent and wanted your expertise to be well represented in the Dawn Court. So a year ago you’d packed up your things and said your goodbyes.

“It’s only temporary.” You’d promised him, “I’ll be back before you know it. In a year’s time.”

But a lot could change in a year. You’d sent plenty of letters back and forth to each other, and Azriel would be loath to admit that he slept with them clutched against his chest every night so whispers of your scent would chase the nightmares away. 

But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him.

He was happy for you and had been the one to encourage you to move to Dawn. But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss you terribly. You’d been missing from his side like a torn limb, and Azriel had been walking through life at a crooked angle ever since. 

“I don’t-” He sighed, he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love you. He just couldn’t, “It’s none of your business, Mor.” He amended. 

He released her wrists breezed past her, but she sprinted ahead of him, splaying her limbs out on the staircase to block his path.

“You need to tell her you love her. Tonight.” She commanded. Her words slurred out gently, the faerie wine finally kicking in when she’d wanted it to. “I mean it, Az.” 

He shook his head, “I can’t tell her tonight.” 

“Why not?” 

“I haven’t seen her in a year! I can’t drop that kind of truth on her.” 

“Yes you can!” She fought back. There was some muddled piece of information hanging at the edges of her mind, something important she needed to tell Az. But the wine held it back. Fuck. She cursed inwardly.

“No. I. Can’t.”

“Yes. You. Can.” She was practically seething, pearly brown eyes unfocused but unrelenting. She knows something I don’t, Azriel realized in a burst of shock. 

“What is it, Mor? What did she tell you?”

She blinked, dropping her arms from the burnt umber railings. His heart quickened. Had his worst fears come true? Had you found someone else in Dawn worth staying for?

“I-” Damn it. She shouldn’t have finished the second bottle. She cradled it protectively against her chest, feeling the glass cool her hot skin, “I don’t fucking remember.” 

“What do you mean you don’t remember?”

“I mean, I’m drunk, Az. And drunk Mor doesn’t remember shit.”

His heart quickened further, a crushing sense of guilt and loss wrapping around his chest like a corset and tightening. Mor at least was saved from further useless interrogation when Rhysand and Feyre bounded out from down the hallway, tastefully disheveled and looking sinful in Night Court black. 

Rhysand cleared his throat, straightening his dinner jacket and absent-mindedly straightening Feyre’s crown for her, “Everyone ready to leave?” His eyes glazed over, calling out to the last missing members of their party. 

Cassian and Nesta spilled out of their room next, the braids of her coronet slipping out and spilling over her heaving chest. Azriel tipped his head to the ceiling and cursed silently. Mother have mercy…

Nesta pulled up on the strap of her lace dress, only to find that it had been torn to ribbons. 

Cassian was in no better shape - the collar of his white shirt was smeared with lipstick, although he didn’t have the same sense as Nesta to look annoyed at the interruption to their… activities. A toothy grin bloomed on his face, shoulder-length hair tangled like someone had been yanking it for hours.

“Can’t make it tonight, Rhys.” He said. He glanced down at Nes, “I’m not feeling well.” 

“Me neither.” Nesta said hastily, slipping back behind the door and hauling Cassian inside with her like he weighed as light as a feather. Four months after their mating ceremony and they were as insatiable as ever. 

“You’re full of shit, Cass!” Rhys called out just before the door slammed shut. A muffled Fuck you! Came from within, followed by a, Tell Y/n we’ll see her at home! From Nesta. 

They winnowed to the outskirts of Daybreak Hill, landing in a field of cushiony moss dotted with pink and violet heather that stirred in the breeze like the dusk-painted clouds above. 

Feyre sighed deeply, breathing in the scent of lavender and rosewater. She loved Velaris and no one could hold a candle to the beauty of the Night Court… except perhaps Dawn. 

It was like someone had laid a mirror flat on the earth. Periwinkle skies kissed rolling sage green hills dotted with red-roofed villages and sank into lakes of pearl and lavender until it was impossible to tell where the sky started or ended. 

The Dawn Court Palace’s twisting spires of honey marble glowed brighter than the setting sun. So brightly in fact that Mor had to help shield Azriel’s eyes with her soft hands as he carried them up through low-hanging satin clouds. Dots of scarlet and midnight black soaring through cotton skies. 

His hands turned clammy and the tightness in his chest felt like a giant’s fist squeezing his heart, but he convinced himself it was the thin air that was responsible, and not the raging longing in his heart for you. Still, he had to appreciate the beauty of the red-roofed villages below, tinkering hands hard at work inside chestnut workshops filled with glistening bronze and copper. 

They dove through the columns into the open-air hall, any dampness from the mist magicked away by Thesan’s careful hands as he stepped down from the golden dias to greet his honored guests. His rich, copper-colored skin radiated light, melting with the darkness that rippled off Rhysand and Feyre’s shoulders as they shook hands and exchanged the usual pleasantries. 

Mor stretched her silky arms above her hands, catching the eyes of a cherub-faced female reaching to grab a flute from the champagne tower. Normally, Mor would have been flattered, but with Emerie at home and a wine-drunk haze over her mind, she was feeling more anxious than anything else. What the fuck was it that she was trying to remember?

Faelights bloomed above him, tinkered in the shapes of roses that gently pulsed, fluttering petals propelling them across the room in a sway of light. 

But Azriel was barely paying attention. His eyes skimmed the crowd, searching for a silhouette he knew as intimately as the ridges of his hands. 

There. 

You stood across the room, half-hidden in the stone archway beside Thesan’s lover, Herades. You bowed your head towards him in silent conversation, nursing a glass of champagne in your hand to try and cool your nerves. Azriel would be arriving soon, if he wasn’t already here, cradling the walls in search of dark corners like he was bound to do. You’d been imagining all the ways you’d greet him - with a joke, with a meaningful embrace, with a kiss. You shook her head, pushing the last thought out of your mind and focusing on Herades’s story again. 

Your laugh was a flare of light blooming at the end of a match. Azriel stared utterly captivated. Time moved slower than syrup when you finally met his eyes and smiled with an affection more precious than gold. 

“Az!” You squeezed Herades’s arm, politely excusing yourself, and then you were off. You sprang across the room in a billow of cream fabric, like milk poured into coffee. The tips of your pleated skirts were touched with blue like you’d waded out into the night sky. The color matched the ribbon in your hair, and the siphons of a certain lovestruck Shadowsinger. 

“Y/n,” He breathed out. You flowed into his arms and he gathered you into them like a bouquet of wildflowers, breathing in your familiar scent of rosemary and peppermint. Gods I missed you. He whispered in his mind, hoping that somehow you’d hear it at the end of that glowing thread.

But the hug was short-lived. Too short-lived. 

“Mor!” You sang in that melodic voice he loved so much, grasping for her next, then Rhys, then Feyre. 

Thesan looked on humbly, sighing faintly when Herades caught up to you and immediately slid to Thesan’s side. 

“Oh I’ve missed you all so much.” You said, rocking back and forth. 

“We missed you,” Feyre said into your hair. She was the one to pull away, smoothing out ribbon and giving you a once-over look. 

Your time had been well-spent at the Dawn Court. Extra color bronzed your cheeks and tinted your lips a pale berry shade. You stood up straighter, smiled a little wider, and walked with an extra height to your step. You’d always been beautiful and graceful, but it was like you were aware of it now - like you’d grown the last few inches into your body. 

“You look lovely, Y/n.” Feyre said and Mor agreed enthusiastically, commenting on your dress and your hair and your… well everything.

“Thank you,” You said, blushing, “Thesan’s treated me very well.” 

That was an understatement. He’d set you up in his personal household, paid you handsomely (even more than Rhysand paid you if that were possible), and had had the royal seamstress sew ten dresses for you to pick from for tonight’s ball alone. It was your party after all in commemoration of the advancements you’d made in child birthing practices. You’d handled twelve pregnancies alone in the past year across Dawn and Winter, all of the children delivered safely and as plump and rosy as summer cherries. 

“And you’ve repaid it to my court ten-fold.” Thesan said and held up his drink. Even Herades smiled, tawny feathers flaring out with pride. You were responsible for the safety of his sister-in-law and the birth of his nephew - hawk wings and all. 

It was a flurry of activity following the Night Court’s fashionably late arrival. You dragged Azriel and Mor up to the dais after Rhys and Feyre. Traditionally the table was only meant for High Lords and their partners, but Thesan was a unique and progressive leader in more ways than one. 

Herades and Thesan sat in the middle with Feyre and Rhysand, leaving you, Azriel, and Mor at one end and Thesan’s sister and her husband at the other. 

Azriel was eternally grateful when Mor lunged for the center-most seat, forcing you to sit between her and Azriel. You bumped knees with him, leaning close as you whispered about the Court gossip you’d managed to overhear from the cooks or discussing the progress you’d made in the Winter Court. 

Course after course appeared in front of him and disappeared, hardly touched. He wasn’t hungry for anything other than you, focusing on the crease within your brows as you tried to remember all the news you couldn’t write to him about or the twist of your perfect, flushed lips as you displayed your displeasure and your joy. 

If he believed himself to be worthy of your affection he would have whisked you away hours ago, disappearing into whichever room in the palace was yours and pressing you against the wall, lip-locked until the need for air forced him to stop. 

“How are Kallias and Viviane doing?” Mor asked, perking up at the mention of the Winter Court.

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with color, “I’m not supposed to say, Mor, so you must promise not to tell anyone. Anyone.” Mor locked her mouth and threw away the key. Your lips brushed against the sharp curve of her ear, “She’s pregnant.” 

Mor clapped a hand over her mouth, nearly upsetting the glass of wine balanced precariously on the edge of the table. One of Azriel’s shadows darted out, pushing it safely out of the way of her swaying arms.

“Stop.” She hissed in disbelief. Her golden hair seemed to brighten with her cheeks. 

You nodded, “With twins.” 

Tears flooded her eyes, “That wench didn’t tell me.” 

“She’s been busy, if you can imagine.” 

“Still!” Mor muttered under her breath, eating her food slowly and sipping on her wine quickly. She gave up on being sober the more males approached her from the base of the dais, bowing deeply with proud, puffed up chests and asking for a dance. Word had gone around about her… preferences, and far from dissuading suitors, it seemed to have been offered up as a challenge as to who could change her mind. Thank the gods Emerie had declined the invitation to join them. She would have castrated half these males in an instant, if Mor didn’t beat her to it. 

Thesan, gratefully, put an end to it once he caught onto the pattern. One sharp look from him sent them scampering back, coattails between their legs. 

There was one final male though who ignored the previous warnings, humbly bleeding out of the crowd as remnants of rose cake disappeared from the tables and the quartet swelled to include twelve musicians plus a singer. Full, cream-colored wings hovered above the ground, tawny-tipped and lush. Even Mor had to admit, with his olive skin, amber eyes, and warm honey curls he was stunning. Like liquid gold poured out of the setting sun. 

He bowed deeply, a subtle smile on his face. Azriel went rigid, seeing you lean forward out of the corner of his eye with a blush coating your cheeks. 

Mor closed her eyes and groaned. Fuuuuuuuck. That’s what she’d forgotten about. Or rather whom she’d forgotten about. 

Naemon - the golden boy who’d begun to court you seven months back. You’d dropped his name only a handful of times in your letters to Mor. Not enough times to convince Mor you were actually taken with him, but enough times for her to remember the bastard’s name. 

“Y/n,” His voice was silky smooth and kind, “May I have the first dance with you?” He asked politely. 

Your breath caught in your throat and you risked a glance over at Azriel. He looked… bored and unaffected. He reached for his glass, looking more interested in the faerie wine than the male who’d just asked for your hand. It was stupid of you to think he would care for you  as anything more than a friend, and even more foolish of you to think he might be jealous. 

You pushed away from the table and floated down the dais, taking the strong and sturdy hand Naemon offered you. The first song was too spirited and quick to reveal any true feelings. It was a blur of silks and lean arms as you wove through the sea of dancers and were gently tossed from partner to partner. But the second song was slower, more intimate. Naemon flashed a look of gratitude to the singer, who winked in return, before scooping one arm around your waist, hand flat on the small of your back. You rested one hand on his shoulder, feeling the rolling of muscle beneath his crisp linen tunic, and held his free hand. 

Naemon was a kind and gentle male. After the death of his parents, he’d all but raised his younger sister Namia on his own, relying on the money he earned in the Peregryn legion to make ends meet. It was his care for his sister that had first drawn him to you - any misgivings he’d had melting away as you grew close to Namia from among the other healers. You’d supported her throughout her pregnancy, become her friend, and served as a balm to his anxieties whenever his duties took him away for long stretches of time. 

You looked down bashfully, apologizing for missing one of the dance steps and crushing his toe, “I’m better at the quicksteps.” You explained. 

Naemon smiled brilliantly, and you couldn’t stop the faint flutter in your chest, “I can’t blame you. The slow ones can get boring. Leaves too much time for overthinking.” 

“Exactly.” Too much time for overthinking about a certain Shadowsinger.

 You’d never given Naemon any false pretenses about your feelings, always reminding him and Namia that your position in Dawn was temporary. But still… It felt nice to be courted by someone as open as him. With Naemon you never had to guess whether he wanted you or not - you knew he did. The flowers he often left in the healer’s temple, or the offers to take you out to dinner or to dances like this one proved it. 

A curl of guilt coiled in your stomach. Maybe now was a good time to bow out and return to your seat. Surely the slow waltz would be finishing soon. The-

“You’re overthinking again.” Naemon said, his full lips brushing against the sharp curve of your ear and heating the gold cuffs you wore. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Y/n. If you’re enjoying yourself - if you like dancing with me - keep doing it.”

“Naemon-” You began apologetically.

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” He said honestly, “I just want to dance with you tonight. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You stared into his eyes, finding nothing but truth in them. A portion of your nerves melted away and you found that when the cello began to hum out a simple tune, you were still holding onto him and letting him move you through the next movements. 

Azriel was barely holding on by a thread. Wine glass now empty and clenched dangerously between shadow covered hands. Rhys shot him a look, and when his attempts to breach his brother’s mental shields were met with resistance, he turned to Mor. 

What’s wrong with him? His eyes flashed the question.

He’s being an ass who can’t come to terms with his emotions. Mor grumbled back, sinking into her seat with a fling of yellow-gold waves. 

Rhys’s eyes went from confused to wide open as he shot a look to you across the dance floor. Fuck.

Feyre followed her mate’s attention with a look of concern, and then traced Azriel’s steely gaze to the dance floor where you were smiling reservedly up at Naemon. You two made a handsome couple, weaving a clear path through the other dancers as they parted for his magnificent feathered wings. 

Azriel stiffened. He’d never been particularly proud of his Illyrian heritage, but his wings… his wings were one of the few true beauties he possessed. But in comparison to the golden-boy warrior that smiled at you and brushed back a loose strand of hair with his soft hands, Azriel found himself lacking… once again. 

Naemon was a gentle breeze where Azriel was blistering wind. He was a wide open door, every look he gave you filled with clear affection. Azriel was a dozen locked boxes, each one nestled within the other with all the keys rusted and thrown away. Naemon looked reserved and in control. Azriel felt completely out of it, and it took every inch of willpower to keep the mating bond from driving him mad enough to launch across the dancefloor and bruise Naemon’s high, perfect cheekbones.

But then the dance ended and Naemon parted from you long enough to reach behind his back and pluck a feather from his wing. A few shocked gasps scattered throughout the room. Even Thesan and Herades looked on with raised eyebrows, leaning close enough to touch. 

The feather was a beauty - the length of Naemon’s forearm and such a pure white it glimmered like moonlight. You froze, staring down at the treasure he offered you with bated breath. 

Peregryns were fiercely protective of their wings and rightfully so. To be allowed near them alone was a great honor. To touch them was an intimate act reserved for family members and lovers. To be offered a feather?! In some circles it was akin to being gifted a thousand roses. In other circles it was tantamount to a marriage proposal.

Both offers were completely overwhelming to you.

“Naemon-” You began carefully, backing away, “I-I can’t.” 

He smiled softly, eyes flashing briefly up to the dias where the Shadowsinger had gotten up to his feet, something like desperation and longing buried deep beneath the layers of his hazel eyes. 

“Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” Naemon said resignedly, “But please, take this,” He begged, spreading open your fingers before curling them again around the feather, “For everything you’ve done for my family.” 

And because I love you, even if you don’t love me back - were the words he didn’t say aloud.

“Naemon-” A shadow fell over your feet, curling around your ankles and skirts and tugging you away like a child seeking attention.

Naemon, for all his relative youth and gentle disposition, didn’t seem surprised or affected by the Shadowsinger’s presence. Azriel hovered close behind you, eyes blown open and desperate. 

Please don’t. He silently begged. Please don’t say yes to him.

He almost melted with relief when Naemon only dipped his head in acknowledgement and kissed the palm of your hands. Even that innocent touch made Azriel’s stomach turn. 

You turned when Naemon finally disappeared into the crowd. “Azriel, I-”

You had half a mind to hide the feather behind your back, but you couldn’t do such a cruel thing to Naemon. And it wasn’t like Azriel hadn’t watched the whole thing unfold in front of him. You clasped the feather in your hands, careful not to ruffle the delicate barbs.

Azriel was no longer bored and unaffected. In fact he seemed unnaturally flustered and nervous. 

He swallowed thickly, mindful of the curious stares you were attracting. Not only had you just been proposed to, but now you were being approached by a male from your past after an ambiguous response - you’d accepted the feather, but Naemon had left alone. The court gossips would have a field day, if they weren’t already.

“Y/n,” He said, his voice thin and quiet. A mere whisper among the riff raff that was steadily building up again in a crescendo, “Can we please talk?” His wings fluttered nervously, and he shot a dangerous look at a male who came too close to you, “In private? Please?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You’d barely recovered from Naemon’s dramatic display and you were scared about what Azriel might offer next. 

Still you mumbled, “Oh-um… yes.” 

The words were barely out of your mouth before Azriel’s hand was on your wrist, delicately leading you through the crowd towards the archway and into the hallway beyond. Fae mingled about in their finery, happy to escape the music and the sweep of dancers. 

Azriel scowled. This was hardly any more private. 

“My quarters are further down this hall,” You offered, pointing down a sky bridge that connected the public wings of the palace to the private ones. Azriel exhaled in relief, nodding and following you as you cut through unfamiliar halls draped in rich reds, golds, and turquoises. 

You stopped at a door of solid oak, hand painted to look like it had been lifted from the pages of a storybook. Resplendent gold filigree traced the footsteps of maidens running along hills dense with colorful flora. Water trickled down from the mountain tops, so realistic that Azriel was amazed to find the handwoven carpets in your room were dry. 

You peered down the hall before closing the door with a gentle whisper. Only the songbirds nesting in the high crevices bore witness to your activities. 

You hesitated and then tucked the feather into one of the empty jewelry boxes on the vanity. Out of sight, but not out of mind. 

Azriel stood motionless by the door, watching as you closed the box and slid it back against the mirror.

“Did you say yes?” He whispered, hating the way his voice caught in his throat, “Do you love him?”

You turned around quickly, the length of ribbon in your hair rippling through the air to land on your collarbone. Azriel was upon you in an instant close enough for you to feel his shallow breathing, but all he did was trace the blue ribbon with his fingers and then push it back over your shoulder.

“I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stuttered and your face burned with feeling. Azriel had asked you for privacy so he could ask you about Naemon? 

Azriel clenched his fists once. Twice. “The male you were dancing with. The feather-”

You blushed deeply, turning your face away to hide your embarrassment. You had hoped he didn’t know about that Peregryn custom.

He gently gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling your gaze back to him. You blinked in surprise. For once Azriel looked… scared.

“Did you say yes to him? Please. Tell me.” 

If you had said yes he might just shrivel up into nothing on the spot. Why had he waited so long to tell you his feelings? Why had he waited so long to tell you about the bond? But if he did it now it would just be terrible timing all around. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You shook your head and Azriel’s wings dropped in relief, eyes closing as he murmured a quiet thanks to the Mother beneath his breath.

“He-it wasn’t even a real proposal. He gave it to me as thanks for helping his sister. That’s all.” 

He gave you a pointed look like he knew you were lying. There was no questioning Naemon’s feelings for you. No questioning at all.

“You never answered my second question.” 

You crumpled under his gaze. Gods, he looked beautiful tonight. Torturously so. It wasn’t fair. Naemon had loved you openly, never given you cause to doubt his intentions nor made you feel guilty for not returning his feelings. And yet here you were, still pining after the male who’d never seen you as more than a friend. A male whose intentions were never clear. A male who always made you question how well you knew him, and whether those small touches and reserved smiles and affectionate letters were just a polite kindness or something more. 

“No.” It felt wrong of you to admit it so callously, even if it was the truth, “No I don’t love him.”

Azriel looked ready to kiss the ground and something about that set a fire within you. Leave it to Azriel to ignore any romantic advances from you, to chase after other females left and right for literal centuries, and then get upset the moment another male found you appealing. 

You huffed, pushing him away harshly and crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s none of your business anyhow. I’m allowed to have my lovers and my almost lovers. And if you truly thought Naemon was proposing to me, I don’t know why you’d want to fucking interrupt it!”

Azriel flinched at the coldness in your voice, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Az?” You exclaimed, clearly irritated now, “Gods, you never just say what you mean.”

Azriel tried again, grasping at straws. “I would never judge you for your choices, even if you said yes to him or-I just-fuck.” 

On any other day you’d be laughing. Azriel was a male of few words, but the words he did say were always perfect and calculated. Nothing about this was calculated or thought out.

“I… you’re my best friend, Y/n. And I haven’t seen you in over a year. I just…” He cringed. Hard. Cauldron boil him. He was doing this terribly, “I was scared.” He finally admitted, and rather pathetically.

“Scared?” You dropped your arms. That wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, “Scared of what? You’re hardly ever afraid of anything.”

He shrank away, hands clasped tightly behind his back, “That you’d leave me-us. That you’d find a reason to stay here instead of returning to Velaris. And when I saw you dancing with him tonight - the way he was looking at you and the way you were looking at him - I thought… I thought Naemon would be that reason.” 

Now you were confused and even more irate than before.

You stalked up to him, jabbing his chest with an accusatory finger, “You were the one who encouraged me to do this. You were the one constantly writing to me about the importance of making friends and “putting myself out there.” You were the one who practically shoved me out the door when I left-”

“Because I thought you wanted this!” 

“I did! I-I do!” 

“Then what was I supposed to do, Y/n?!” He cried out. His shadows, which had been held back so tightly on a leash throughout the night, exploded outward, coating the bright colors of your bedspread and the rugs and the curtains in inky black. They swirled there, as agitated and timid as their master. 

“What was I supposed to do?” He whispered again. He sounded tired. Defeated. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold you back from what you wanted. From the happiness and opportunities you deserve.”

“You could’ve at least said something! You could’ve at least told me that you were upset with me leaving. That you were going to miss me and that you-you-” 

That you love me and that you wanted me to stay. You shoved the thought out of your mind, slamming the door and turning the lock. Useless, lovestruck pipedreams would do you no good now. 

“Instead you just pushed me out the door and it’s been nothing but empty letters from you since.” 

“They weren’t empty.” Azriel said weakly. He’d never been a man of words or poetry, but in that moment he desperately wished he was. “And I did miss you. Y/n, I missed you so much some days it felt like I couldn’t breathe.” 

You deflated, your anger slowly ebbing away like the ocean during low tide. Sometimes you forgot that beneath all those hard-won layers of shadow and muscle, Azriel was still that little boy that had been abandoned in a cellar and taught to believe he was worthless. A waste of time and a waste of space. Nothing more than an inconvenient bastard. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were all doing fine. That I’d come back and it would be like nothing had ever changed. I would’ve-I would’ve made time to visit. Or-or come back sooner.”

Azriel chuckled without humour. He had not been “doing fine” without you. He hadn’t been “doing fine” since the moment you’d stepped across the doorway and winnowed out of Velaris.

“You make it sound like I was going away forever.” You added softly.

“It felt like it.” Azriel admitted quietly, “I always worried there was a chance you’d decide you liked things better in Dawn. That you liked the people better. So when I saw you with Naemon I just…” His voice trailed off and he slowly backed up to your bed, sinking down into the pillowy comforter. Even the beds seemed softer and kinder here. Softer and kinder than him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. 

He felt the bed dip beside him, your knee pressing against his in a burst of warmth. The blue tipped pleats of your dress slowly waved with his shadows as they once again curled around your feet, inching up your dress and closer and closer to your hands. Now that he was looking down he noticed the shoes you were wearing - cobalt blue with matching velvet ribbons tied up your calf. Same as your dress. Same as the ribbon in your hair.

“I wanted to believe you wore those colors for me tonight.” He said quietly, aching for your touch. Your hands were so close to his he could almost imagine that-

You covered his hands with your own, smoothing the rough skin with gentle caresses, “I did.”

It had seemed like such a stupidly hopeful choice at the time - some not-so-subtle declaration of love for all the months you’d spent apart - but when the seamstress had laid out all the dresses, you’d taken one look at the cobalt blue accents and the shoes and snatched them up in a heartbeat. 

Azriel’s eyes were wider, more open, than the moon, shimmering with disbelief and hope, “You did?” He whispered.

“I did. They reminded me of you.” You stopped looking him in the eyes. It felt like too much. Too much emotion. Too much feeling. “I missed you too, you know.” 

Azriel stayed quiet for a long while, sorting out the myriad of feelings roiling in his chest and trying to latch onto a single coherent thought. Finally he murmured, “I guess we could both work on saying things outright.” 

You laughed softly, shaking your head and wiping at the corners of your eyes, “Yes. I guess we could.” 

“We could start now.” Azriel offered hesitantly. His heart hammered away in his chest like a blacksmith at his anvil until he was sure his sternum would crack. 

You raised your eyebrows. Curious.

“The next five minutes. We say everything honestly. No holding back.” 

“I don’t know, Az. I-”

“Please.” He begged, holding onto your hands a little tighter. His shadows had traveled all the way up to your waist now, ghosting over flesh that he didn’t dare touch. He didn’t want to lose you. He’d thought he could handle being apart from you physically - that it would be no different from the decades he’d spent quietly loving you from right by your side - but he’d been horribly wrong. And he didn’t want to risk another, better male than Naemon coming to whisk you away before he had the chance to do things properly. To do things honestly.

His hands were shaking now, gripping your hands like you were the anchor to his ship trapped in raging waters, “I’ll start.” 

“Ok.” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

Azriel swallowed and tried to stop the trembling in his hands and in his voice. In this he managed quite well, falling into a rigid, flat silence.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years now, actually.” He dared to look at you. Your lips were parted in shock and he wished he could taste them, “Is that…is that ok?” 

“Is that ok?” You repeated dumbly. “Is that ok?” You repeated a little louder, “Are you serious, Azriel?”

“Y-Yes?” He was trembling again, face open and terrified. He was offering you up his heart on a platter and praying to the Mother you wouldn’t crush it beneath those velvet blue shoes. Even if you did, he would find some solace in knowing you were the one to destroy him. He loved you so dearly that it was only within your right to do so. 

Your lips broke in a stuttered smile, opening and closing like you didn’t quite know what to do. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. I’d hoped you might feel that way but I… I was never sure. I…” You cradled his face in your hands, tracing the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones with your fingertips, “I love you too, Azriel. I love you so much.” Your voice cracked, silver gathering in your eyes no matter how fiercely you tried to blink them away, “Gods, Az, you don’t even know.” 

He gripped you close enough enough to bruise, arms locked around your waist and hands laid flat on your back. It was a sweet pain that grew even sweeter when you kissed him, searching for breath like you’d find it in his lungs. Azriel was just as desperate, ravenous even as he tugged at your clothes and flipped you flat on the bed. He wanted your lips again. You tasted like strawberries and cream, and he was starving. 

He climbed on top, slotting himself between your legs as you yanked him close.

“Your hair,” You muttered, “It’s too neat.” The next minute was all teeth from Azriel as you mussed up his hair and he grinned wildly against your lips.

“Five-” He groaned, sinking further into you when you wrapped your legs around his waist, “Five minutes aren’t-” He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at your flushed face as you gasped for breath and finally untangled your hands from his hair, “Five minutes aren’t up yet.” 

“You’ve been keeping track?” You dropped your head back on the bed with a disgruntled hmph. Had he been counting the whole time he’d been kissing you?

He kissed your chest, then the sensitive skin of your neck. But there wasn’t any expectation in the brush of his lips, just quiet, honest love. 

You raised your head, finding that Azriel once again looked scared. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” He said seriously. “Before… before anything else.” 

You drew yourself onto your elbows, craning your neck for one more kiss, “You can tell me, Az. You can tell me anything.” 

The bond sang in his chest like a songbird in a cage. It wanted to be released. To be acknowledged in words if it couldn’t be acknowledged through feeling at this moment. Because Azriel knew you didn’t feel it yet. You didn’t feel the burning he felt in his chest that made it hard to breathe when you weren’t around. 

What if she doesn’t want this? What if she doesn’t want me? Azriel swallowed thickly, tears springing into his eyes. He wanted so desperately to be worthy of you - to be the kind and gentle lover and mate that you deserved. He’d been born crooked even before he’d been tossed into that cellar, before his half-brothers had set his hands on fire. But… but he was yours completely. He’d offer whatever meager, broken shards of himself that he could in hopes it might be enough. 

“Az,” You whispered his name lovingly and slid a wayward curl behind his ear so gently he thought he might break apart into a million pieces, “Tell me. Please. Tell me.” 

“You’re my mate.” He confessed. 

The words hung in the air, unaccepted, unrejected, and you went preternaturally still. 

He had no feathers to pluck out and present to you. But he had his shadows. You tipped your head curiously to the side when Azriel knelt on the ground, holding your hand in his. 

“I don’t have any pure white feathers. I don’t even have a ring on me right now-”

“Az, you don’t need to-” You stilled when a shadow flickered down Azriel’s wrist onto yours. It was a small, delicate thing. Willful too. You could tell by the way it traveled confidently down your ring finger, curling there tastefully like a castle spire reaching towards the sky.

It hovered over your skin like mist hanging over wetlands. A proposal in and of itself.

“Yes.” You said before Azriel could open his mouth again. He hesitated, afraid to believe he’d heard you correctly, “Yes.” 

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” He teased weakly. 

But this time you knew exactly what he meant, even if he didn’t say it out loud. 

The bond burst to life in your chest as the shadow sank into your skin, settling there like a tattoo. Like a promise. 

Azriel stumbled, actually stumbled, clenching at his chest at the wildness growing within him. He chased after you, hurtling down the bond and finding you wide open on the other side. You were anxious and surprised and so so so happy. So happy you felt like you might just die from it, and Azriel felt it all. 

Hello, Y/n. He called out.

Hello, Azriel. You responded. My mate. 

Azriel groaned, slamming his lips and his body against yours. You held steady as you always did, letting him press against you as if you could keep him there forever.

I am yours and you are mine. You gripped his hair again, feeling the silky strands caress your skin. With one smooth motion he pulled out the ribbon and started to undo the buttons of your dress.

Promise?

You grinned. Promise.

___________

Author's note:

Nothing like a declaration of love after a year spent apart to make my heart swoon.

But honestly I would have fallen in love with Naemon... sorry Az...

[bat-boys]

domestic bliss

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 4.5k words

warning: suggestive language but no actual smut. just lots and lots of fluff!

summary: a series of scenes that give an insight into the domestic bliss you had built with your mate

a/n: oh my goshhh thank you so much for all the love and so sorry I've been a bit MIA. I'm in the middle of a couple of wips that I'm struggling to piece together so wanted to give you something quick whilst I get my act together. I hope you enjoy it loves 🫶🏻

Part 2

A soft breeze and warm sunlight trickled into the room through the open floor-to-ceiling doors leading out to your room's balcony. The sounds of the birds chirping outside and the busy city below created a peaceful atmosphere that soothed your soul as you lay stretched out on your bed, book in hand.

A noise akin to a purr escaped the lips of the fae male sprawled across your body, head resting gently on your stomach, as you combed your fingers through his luxurious midnight black curls. Your lips tilted up in an affectionate smile as you continued to soak up the words on your page. As you gently scraped your fingernails along his scalp, another deep groan elicited, leaving you giggling and your toes curling. 

Sundays like this were your favourite. Slow, lazy and steady. Filled with quiet moments of simplicity. When Azriel wasn't busy off doing god knows what, god knows where, and you didn't have to attend any stuffy meetings or pour over lengthy negotiations and treaties as the emissary of the Night Court. When your mate could spend the day with you lounging in bed, just enjoying each other's presence. 

"Why did you stop?" Az grumbled as you lifted your hand away from his head. 

"I was turning the page, dummy." You chuckled at him. 

"Well, hurry up."

"Big Illyrian baby," you cooed, a soft yelp leaving your lips when you felt Azriel gently bite down on the stretch of bare skin he was resting on. A satisfied sound left his lips—and caused your eyes to roll—when he felt your fingers back in his hair. 

You, however, couldn't help the pulse of love and affection you sent down the bond when the next time you had to turn the page, one of his shadows appeared to do it for you.

Another chapter of your book was read before he spoke again, dispersing the soft, comfortable silence that had fallen between you. You had been convinced he had fallen asleep as you played with his hair. 

"When do you go to the Court of Nightmares?" He mumbled against your skin, his lips pursing to kiss your hip quickly. 

"Tomorrow." You sighed. It was your least favourite job as the official emissary, the one you dreaded doing every couple of weeks. Like Mor, you had been born under that particular mountain, crafted in its dark shadows, a dreamer bred to be a nightmare. It had taken years of wit and cunning to get to a position to meet the High Lord, years of barely surviving until you could petition him for a job—anything to get out of there. 

"Do you want me to come with you?" He lifted his head slightly, his hazel eyes meeting yours. Silver nearly lined your eyes as you took in his soft, gentle expression. Azriel understood just how much going there took out of you. He knew that you would return home hollow and would require the rest of the night to be cooped up in bed with his arms around you. 

He also recognised that you could absolutely do it alone. That you didn't need him beside you. You were strong enough to face your past head-on and would leave whatever meeting you were attending with Rhys and Feyre with the winning cards in your hand. But that didn't stop him from offering a comforting hand to hold throughout your time there. 

"Please." You whispered. His lips stretched into a gentle smile as he lifted his body off you to scoot up the bed and press his lips to yours in a loving kiss. 

"Of course, my love." And you knew that was that. No explanations, no words needed to be exchanged with Rhys. When it was time to travel to the Court of Nightmares, you would find your mate beside you, a reassuring hand in your own as he stood quietly beside you. 

Azriel could see the tumultuous thoughts flitting across your brain, so he did the only thing he could. He bent down once again to press his lips to yours, pouring as much love and affection as he could down that beautiful, gleaming bond you shared. 

Kissing Az never got boring, even after all these years together. He captured your bottom lip in his plush, slightly chapped lips, tugging slightly to elicit a soft groan from you, which he swallowed with his mouth. You lifted your arms to circle his neck, gently playing with the soft hairs there - your book long discarded and falling to the floor. He sighed against you as he wrapped his arms around your bare torso, pulling your chest flush against his as he deepened the kiss into something fiery that had a slow, dull ache beginning between your legs. 

You could feel him against your inner thigh and smirked against his lips as you reached a finger towards his impressive wings and carefully dragged a fingernail along the underside of his right wing where they met his back, a spot you had discovered many years ago. A primal part of you stretched out in satisfaction as you felt Azriel shudder against you at the touch. 

"So eager to go again, my love?" He teased, alluding to the several times he had already taken you that day as he gently nipped your skin before torturously slowly pressing open-mouthed, hot kisses along your jaw and down the column of your neck.

"Distract me, Az." You breathed, tipping your head back to expose even more of your delicate neck to him, groaning when you felt his canines skimming along your skin. 

"With pleasure, sweetheart."

…

The noise was almost deafening, the room packed to the brim with politicians, courtiers, nobility and High Lords and their entourages. It was enough to overwhelm anyone, but Azriel watched from the edge of the room as you dazzled person after person, drifting from one group of fae to the next, completely and totally in your element. 

You enjoyed nights like these when you got to flex the skills you had built up as an emissary to the Night Court, speaking to old friends, charming acquittances, and building friendships with those you had yet to meet. The beautiful deep black gown you wore also helped. 

Azriel watched as you stood amongst courtiers from the Winter Court, catching up with some of the gossip from one of your allies. A flute of champagne dangled from your fingers; half drank as you tipped your head back to laugh at something one of your friends had said. The dress you wore tonight was some torture explicitly designed for him. It was sleeveless, showing off the delicate curves of your shoulders and décolletage, the high swell of your breasts threatening to spill over the top of your dress every time you drew breath. The slit that every now and then gave Azriel the view of the smooth curve of your leg was maddening. But what was true torture was the choker around your neck, encrusted with gems the same colour as his siphons—a reminder of where his hands had been last night. 

He had almost sent a mental note to Rhys that the pair of you wouldn't be attending the party tonight when you had emerged from your bathroom and asked him to zip you up—favouring the idea of ravishing you right there and then. It was only the thought of watching you so expertly work the room, charming everyone so thoroughly, but knowing that only he had the privilege to take you home, that had him attending tonight.

As if you could hear his thoughts, your eyes drifted from the fae before you to lock eyes with your mate across the room. Matching smirks danced on your lips as he nodded at you, and you nodded back - an inside joke between the two of you started on that first official party you had been forced to attend when the mating bond was still so new. 

A fire built in your body, beginning in your stomach and dipped lower and lower as you watched him push off the wall he had been leaning on and stalk towards you. He never once dropped eye contact, his shadows twirling before him and telling him where to step, creating a direct path to you. 

You tracked him across the room, your skin burning from his gaze. When he stopped just in front of you, his shadows dispersed to dance among your skirts and play with the hair that cascaded down your back. 

"Emissary." He greeted, bending his body into a tight bow whilst that playful smirk danced on his lips. 

"Shadowsinger." You purred. 

"Rhys has asked to see you urgently." The desire swirling in his hazel eyes made the grin on your lips widen as your stomach dipped in anticipation. 

"Excuse me." You politely bowed your head to the people you previously held court with, dropping your now empty glass on a nearby table as you followed Azriel out of the room. 

Your heels clacked on the beautifully tiled floor as you closed the distance between you and Azriel. You were still walking behind him but close enough to brush your hand against his. He turned his head slightly to smirk at you, and you felt his hand beside you curl and unfurl as he resisted the urge to touch you in front of everyone. 

After moments of strutting through the House of Wind, you reached a part of the house away from the centre of the party, with fewer and fewer people milling around. It was only then that, with lightning-fast speed, Azriel's hand whipped out to grab yours and pull you into a shadowy alcove. 

With firm hands, he pushed you against the wall, his shadows swirling to hide you from prying eyes, as one of Azriel's hands dropped to your hips and the other reached up to grip your neck. You groaned in delight at the feeling of his hands on you, the messy, feverish kisses he was now peppering along the bare skin of your neck, shoulder and collarbones. 

"Az." You moaned as you felt his canines drag along that sensitive junction where your neck met your shoulder, his tongue following to soothe the slight sting. 

"Fuck Y/N." He groaned into your skin, relishing in the way you tasted - so sweet. Even after years of being together, he would never get tired of tasting you, of his lips and tongue on your flesh, on your lips and in between your thighs. 

"What if we get caught?" You managed to say, your chest heaving as you breathed heavily, hands gripping Azriel's broad shoulders tightly. 

"That's never stopped you before, love." He teased as he ran his lips across the swell of your breasts, his touch feather-light, causing a shiver to run down your body and your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

The hand that was holding your hips in his grasp moved to slip under the slit of your dress, skimming down the curve of your leg, tracing over your knee and down your calf before wrapping around your thigh to lift it and hook it over his hips.

"You were torturing me out there, Princess." His voice had become deep and husky, and he elicited a groan from your lips as he was able to press his hips into yours with the new angle. Your body was set alight as you felt his straining erection through the material of his pants as he pushed into you. 

"Looking delicious in that dress for everyone to see." His words caused molten lava to pool in your stomach, the throbbing at the apex of your thighs to become incessant, and the wetness gathering there began to drip down your thigh. 

Anticipation curled in your stomach as you felt Azriel's hand travel from your thigh to your hip, skimming so lightly it was pure torture down your bikini line before reaching your swollen and slick sex - freezing when he realised he had unrestricted access.

"You've got to be kidding me, no underwear? Fuck you're killing me love." He groaned against your neck, roughly nipping at your jaw and causing a moan of your own to slip past your lips.

"All for you, Az." You whispered, throwing your head back against the solid wall behind you as he traced your slit, gathering the wetness pooling there.

"There they are." Rhys's unbothered drawl broke through the hazy atmosphere you were creating in your shadowy alcove, shattering the moment and causing you both to freeze. 

"I knew those lovebirds hadn't gone far." Cassain chuckled from beside Rhys. You knew Azriel's shadows were keeping you covered, that they couldn't see anything and could only recognise you both because they knew how his shadows felt and what they looked like to the untrained eye. 

"Piss off, Cass." Azriel snarled as he slowly extracted himself from you, carefully dropping your leg and trying to straighten your dress. 

"Someone's cranky," Cassain teased, and you rolled your eyes as you watched Azriel's face turn into a murderous expression. Azriel was usually so calm and collected, not easy to rattle at all, except when it came to you. 

"You know not to interrupt a male and his mate." You sighed as you gripped the front of the dress and tried to rearrange it over your chest. You noted the still-hungry look in Azriel's eyes as he watched your every move. A promise in his gaze that told you this wasn't over. 

"If you wanted to enjoy each other's company in the hallway, that's totally up to you; we get it - looking beautiful as ever Y/N -," Rhys added as Azriel dropped his shadows once you looked presentable, "but we're doing a debrief in my office, and then you're all done for the night so you can move this to your bedroom if you wish…"

"We'll be there in 5 minutes," Azriel managed to grind out, his eyes still on yours, desperately trying to calm down. 

"Is that all he lasts?" Azriel's eyes flared, and you knew Cassain had overstepped. You gave them both an eye roll, territorial fae bullshit. 

"Cass," you warned as you heard your best friend chuckle at the snarl that ripped out of Azriel's mouth as he sauntered back down the hallway. 

…

Azriel padded through the quiet hallway of the home he shared with you. His feet were cool as they touched the dark wood floor, a nice contrast to the heat pushing up against the windows from the summer sun outside. His shadows flitted and danced around him as they coaxed him to follow them, to follow them to her. His lips curled up in amusement at their behaviour as he neared the kitchen, where he could hear you humming and the soft sounds of you bustling around the kitchen. 

He rounded the corner to lean on the doorframe; strong arms crossed over his bare chest as he took in the scene before him. His heart almost stopped dead at the sight of you standing at the large island in the middle of the room, mixing bowl in front of you and wooden spoon in hand, your glorious hair pulled half up into a messy bun tied at the back of your head - tendrils falling around your face and gleaming in the sun -, wearing nothing but one of his shirts. 

A deep and primal part of him purred at the sight of you in his clothes, knowing that it was unlikely you had anything under that soft cotton. The fit was incredibly baggy on you, the hemline falling to your mid-thigh, the collar threatening to slip down your shoulder, and the sleeves so long you had had to roll them up. He delighted in being taller than you, bigger than you. A small part of him always soared when he bundled you up in his arms, being able to protect you with just his body. He knew, more than anyone, that you could handle yourself. In a tight situation, you could take down as many enemies as he could. But there was something so delightful about your body being so much smaller than his. 

A soft melody slipped past your lips, and Azriel joined in as he pushed off the doorframe. Unable to contain the need to touch you any longer, he approached you. You jolted slightly at the feeling of his large, warm hands on your hips, and a soft yelp left your lips when you felt Azriel bury his head in your hair and press a chaste kiss to the skin of your neck.

"Morning, love," Azriel mumbled into your hair, breathing in your intoxicating scent. 

"More like afternoon, babe; we spent all morning in bed!" you joked as you turned back to the task at hand.

"And whose fault is that." Azriel teased as he pulled away from your neck to reach around and gently nip at your earlobe, which sent a lick of fire straight to the apex of your thighs.

"Yours." You shot back, angling your head slightly to look at your mate.

"Hmm, I'm not so sure about that," he smirked, his beautiful hazel eyes dancing with mischief and desire as he dipped his head to press your lips in a searing kiss. Kissing Azriel was like this: all or nothing. Either his kisses were chaste, quick things meant to convey a simple hi or, more often than not, a quick acknowledgement of you during conversations or as you passed each other in corridors or hallways. His other types of kisses were slow, leisurely and utterly torturous, and he poured every ounce of love he had for you into them. His lips moved lazily with yours, licking across the seam of your lips and begging for entrance before licking into your mouth - your knees almost buckling at the intoxicating sensation and the fire burning in your body. He knew what he was doing, as was evident when he pulled away with a smirk on his lips, "what are you making?"

He grinned when he watched your eyes drift back into focus, your body slamming down to reality after a kiss that was so heady but given so casually. 

"A lemon drizzle cake." You replied somewhat breathlessly, which made him chuckle, and you felt his chest rumble on your back.

"My favourite." He said as he returned to his spot behind you and wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing your back flush to his chest as you continued baking. 

"I know, love." You softly spoke as you began to stir the mixture before you. Judging by the smile in your voice, he knew you were thinking of that moment a handful of years ago when you had both accepted the mating bond with a lemon drizzle cake.

It had been your first time to the Court of Nightmares since you had escaped and been made part of the Night Court. You had been secretly dreading it, knowing that your usual skill set as emissary would all fall apart in that place when your eyes would land on your family and those familiar snarling faces. And it had. Everything had gone to shit the moment your family had spotted you beside Rhys' throne and had smelt that mating bond on you. It had started with shouting and had escalated to your family barging their way up to the throne and threatening to gut you for turning into a whore. 

Rhys had pulled rank and ordered everyone to leave, and you had been quickly winnowed to the safety of the townhouse, where everyone had rallied around you and tried to distract you. Rhys and Azriel had gone back to calm the situation and assess the aftermath. You had been cooped up in the arms of Cassain for the evening, a loving and supportive brother figure you had never had before. But deep down, you had wanted only one pair of arms around you to soothe you and remind you that your family do not dictate who you are. 

Everyone had eventually retreated to bed, but you had stayed, needing to see him, knowing he would return at some god-forsaken hour. He had found you then when he winnowed to appear in the living room of the townhouse, curled up on a sofa in front of the fire with a book in your hand. At his appearance, you slowly put the book down to look at him. 

The bond was newly snapped in place, but he could feel your emotions faintly and was so overwhelmed by the fact that you had stayed up for him that all he could think to say was, "Good book?"

He had watched fascinated as your lips curled into a soft smile, the first since the incident so many hours ago. "Couldn't put it down." 

He chuckled lowly but didn't move from his spot as you slipped a bookmark into the page and popped it beside you, swinging your legs off the sofa to sit facing him. 

"Az, I think we need to talk." He watched as you outstretched your hand, gesturing for him to come and sit with him. 

His heart had sunk as he had walked over to you, joining you on the sofa. He knew you needed to talk about the mating bond and how you moved forward—you had been friends for so long, and he had been yearning for you since the first day he met you. And now he was terrified that you were about to reject the bond, reject him, and he was going to lose the woman he loved and the friendship he cherished with you all in one go. 

"Y/N, you need to do the right thing for you - please don't accept something because you feel bad for me. We can work it out. I can perhaps get Rhys to station me in the Illyrian mountains so you can stay here, and I-"

"Respectfully, what the hell are you talking about, Az?" You stared, baffled, at the male before you as he rambled on. He couldn't look at you, and his expression conveyed such sadness.

"The logistics of you rejecting the bond—that's what you want to talk about, isn't it?" A bark of laughter left your lips, shocking him and causing him to snap his head up to look at you in confusion. 

"Oh Az, no honey, that's not what I wanted to talk about," you softly said as you held one of his beautiful, scarred hands in one of yours and brought the other to cup his cheek. You watched, fascinated, as he internally debated whether to lean into your touch, "Stay here a second; I'll be back."

He watched, confused, as you flashed him a warm, comforting smile before dashing off the sofa and disappearing into the hallway outside the living room. The wait may have been seconds, minutes at most, but it felt like hours to Azriel. His heart had stopped dead when you returned, a dish in your hand in which a delicately decorated cake sat atop it. He watched keenly as you walked back to him, smiling sheepishly and nervously, and sat back beside him on the sofa. 

"This is for you. I want to accept the mating bond." Those words, spoken so softly in the dead of night, in a house that had seen so much joy and heartache before, were enough to set Azriel alight. He had no words to describe the feeling that was coursing through him as he looked between you and the cake you held out towards him.

His hands moved on their own accord as he took the dish from you, noticing the sugar icing that had been meticulously drizzled onto the soft sponge and the sweet little decorative flower you had piped into the centre. Just from looking at it, he could tell you had baked this cake and poured every ounce of feeling into it, and he felt himself getting choked up at the thought. 

"Are you sure?" He whispered, and the vulnerable look on that face was enough to break your heart. 

"Yes. I have loved you for years, Az and the snapping of the bond in place made it seem as if the Mother and the Cauldron had finally listened to all those prayers I sent them. I baked this earlier to give it to you after we had returned from a successful meeting at the Court of Nightmares," his lips quirked ever so slightly at the sarcasm that dripped from your voice, "it may not be the moment I intended; but it's still perfect anyway. It's a larger version of those lemon sponges you love from that bakery we found last year. The owner gave me the recipe. I want you, Azriel."

Azriel had given up on finding his mate, resigned to always wondering. When you had crash-landed into his life a handful of years ago, he had silently hoped it would be you, and when he had tripped and fallen head-first in love with you, he had begun to beg that the mating bond would snap one day. So many years of yearning for you, unaware that you felt the same, that you were begging for it to be him as well. So many wasted years. And when the mating bond had finally snapped, when you had returned from a month-long summit at the Day Court and taken one look at him, he had almost fallen to his knees then and there. 

He had finally found you, and you wanted him back. Words would come to him later, spoken against the soft sheets of your bed, in between feverish kisses and in the afterglow of what was to come, so for now, he held your gaze as he lifted the small slice you had cut for him and took a bite. 

"Az, baby. I need to put the cake in the oven." Your words brought him out of the daydream he had been enjoying and back to the present moment. He chuckled and kissed your temple before unwinding from your body and taking a step back so you could move to put the cake tin in your hands and into the oven. 

He leaned back against the counter as he watched you carefully manoeuvre it inside before triumphantly shutting the oven door and turning back to him with a satisfied smile. 

"Come here." He held out his hand, a gesture so similar to the one you had given him all those years ago that a smile danced on both of your faces. You let him pull you against his chest, one of his hands falling to your hips and the other coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing some flour that had somehow made its way to your face.

"Happy 10-year anniversary, love." You whispered into the gentle silence, and the shadowsinger gave you a beautiful smile. 

"Happy 10 year anniversary, sweetheart." He whispered back as he closed the distance and gently pressed his lips to yours in a loving kiss that held 10 years of the most beautiful memories.  

Read Part 2 here!

[throneofsapphics]

kink/angst-tober masterlist

A/N: vast majority of these will be smut, other prompts may be dark. minors dni please! some of this is subject to change. they'll be posted at midnight est!

Day 1: Spanking with Gavriel Day 2: Wax play with Mor Day 3: Lingerie with Rhys Day 4: “She will die, thinking you never loved her.”  Day 5: Cockwarming with Rowan Day 6: Temperature with Rowaelin Day 7: Free use with Feysand Day 8: “If I see you again, you’re dead.”  Day 9: Piercings with Ruhn Day 10: Blood Kink with Manon Day 11: Mirror with Manorian Day 12: “You can run, we’ll find you every time.”  Day 13: Praise with Fenrys  Day 14: Corruption with Lorcan Day 15: Somnophilia with Nessian  Day 16: “Don’t be nice to me, I know how much you want to slit my throat.” Day 17: Bondage with Feysand  Day 18: Knife play with Manon and Asterin Day 19: Face fucking with Azriel and Rhys  Day 20: “Tell her she can come on her own feet, or over my shoulder.” With Cazriel Day 21: Hair pulling with Elorcan Day 22: Overstimulation with Aelin Day 23: Breath play with Dorian  Day 24: Edging with Lidia Day 25: “Really, poison again? Get more creative.”  Day 26: Face sitting with Nesta  Day 27: Voyeurism with Asterin (ft.the thirteen) Day 28: Degradation with Rowaelin   Day 29: “If you’re going to try and stab me, at least learn how to hold the knife.”  Day 30: Submission with Manorian Day 31: Brat-taming with Rowan 

[kristisbookland]

ACOFAS

Ch7

“Send Lucien, then. As our human emissary.”

I studied the tenseness in Azriel’s shoulders, the shadows veiling half of him from the sunlight. “Lucien is away right now.”

Az’s brows rose. “Where?”

I winked at him. “You’re my spymaster. Shouldn’t you know?”

Az crossed his arms, face as elegant and cold as the legendary dagger at his side. “I don’t make a point of looking after his movements.”

“Why?”

Not a flicker of emotion. “He is Elain’s mate.”

I waited.

“It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

To know when and if Lucien sought her out. What they did together.

“You sure about that?” I asked quietly.

Azriel’s Siphons guttered, the stones turning as dark and foreboding as the deepest sea. “Where did Lucien go.”

Ch12

Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants.

I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.

in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.”

Az said nothing.

No, he just moved toward her.

Mor tensed beside me.

But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

Elain’s hands remained in midair, as if the ghost of the dish remained between them. With a blink, she lowered them, and noticed her apron. “I—I’ll be right back,”

...

 “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice.

...

and Azriel … It was pity on his beautiful face. Pity and sorrow as he watched my sister.

...

But something in me eased at that laughter, at the light that returned to Elain’s eyes.

A light I wouldn’t see dimmed further.

Ch16

Azriel strode to the lone window at the end of the room and peered into the garden below. “I’ve never stayed in this room.” His midnight voice filled the space.

...

“No,” Azriel said, not turning from the window.

...

Azriel remained at the window

...

Azriel said, turning from the garden window at last.

Ch19

I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it.

The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s—the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.”

Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly. “I’ve never participated in one of these.”

Ch20

Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.”

Azriel’s face didn’t so much as shift at the words. Not even a smile as he opened the present and revealed—

“I had Madja make it for me,” Elain explained. Azriel’s brows narrowed at the mention of the family’s preferred healer. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.”

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous. Cassian and Rhys joined him, the former grabbing the glass bottle from Azriel’s hand and examining it. “Brilliant".

Elain smiled again, ducking her head.

Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”

[elriel-fireheart]

I see the Light

Morrigan stumbles upon the Truth between Azriel and Elain.

This is Elriel coded. Please be kind.

The Townhouse was filled with a beautiful melody. Elain is sitting in the family room playing the piano, singing what her heart yearns for her to say. The sun is shining down on her, bathing her in a golden glow. Shining like the purest star. Azriel's shadows pick up on her. He's flying high over the city in an attempt to find some peace after his long and drawn out mission. They play the melody in his ear, ignoring his direct orders of refusing to spy on her, and he can't resist the pull of it. The music and her voice together creating a sirens call. He ends up in the doorway, struck by the sheer beauty before him.

He hadn't seen her in weeks. Months. Not since he tried to explain about the events of last Solstice, and was feebly and utterly broken by the sadness on her face. Rhysand's retaliation for revealing the truth was to send him on a long and tedious mission far away on the continent. The Wraith Twins eventually informed him that Elain moved out of the River House that night. Said her anger towards Rhysand was a midnight fury. Only Feyre's pleading got her to stay in the Townhouse. To not sever family bonds and heal her heart in the privacy of her own home. A gift, Feyre said, for the poor actions of her territorial, meddling mate.

A forethought sends his shadows scouring across the city and to the estate looking for the rest of the inner circle, but all is silent. Empty, save for Elain and her song. Unable to resist, Azriel slowly makes his way to her. Hearing the shadowsinger's soft footsteps, she turns and gives him a shy smile. Nods to the seat beside her. The thought of sharing the bench with her, of sharing a moment alone together, breaks any lingering resolve of turning around and leaving her be. Rhysand's command snuffed out by his sheer need to be with her. So Azriel sits. Gently places his scarred hands on the keys and starts playing, adding to her melody.

Elain looks at Azriel with a smile she reserves only for these stolen moments and urges him to continue. The light in her eyes warms him to the core. He looks at her and seems to struggle for words, but he finally released a breath. And so, Azriel sings. His midnight voice, low and velvety. He looks at Elain with an openness in his eyes she rarely sees. The windows to his soul thrown wide open. The green and gold in his eyes glowing vibrant as spring. Together, they sing. Together, they fall into rhythm and let go. The shadows of the setting sun begin swaying and dancing between the golden rays. Elain and Azriel get lost in their song. Completely oblivious to an awestruck Mor hiding behind the door.

Morrigan just arrived from the Summer Court moments ago. She came to the Townhouse only to give Elain some rare flower seeds she had requested. But in Azriel's distraction, the front door was left slightly ajar. In all her years, Mor had never once heard Azriel sing. Curiosity's grip on her was fierce and she couldn't resist taking a peak. Glamour and shields up to hide her scent, for fear of ruining such a virtuous moment, watching and listening to the song of Death and his lovely Fawn. Light and dark, the space between their bodies a blend of the two. The only bridge of connection...a band of golden light shining brighter than all the rest. The faint glow connects them, blending with the last rays of the setting sun. The rest of Azriel's shadows are twirling all around the room. Bewitched. Entranced. Whispering in an ancient long forgotten language...mates, mates, mates.

Their song reaches its end. Azriel leans down slowly, one hand gently reaching up to cup Elain's face. Her eyes flutter close and their lips are a hairsbreadth away from each other... just as Mor decides its time take her leave. Mor saw the Truth that day. Confirmed every suspicion. She vowed to keep it secret. Protect this delicate pair, and let them find happiness in these small merciful moments with one another. She prayed to the Mother that night. Prayed that fate would intervene and show the world that the hearts of the Shadowsinger and Seer belong to one another. Prayed that the cauldron was wrong indeed.

I have this small headcanon that Elain can sing and learnt how to play piano growing up. I have a small inkling that Mor will be a part of this next book in the narrative of Elain and Azriel's story. There's alot to unpack between her and Az. There's alot to unpack between Elriel and the IC. Amidst the drama, I'd like to think that Mor would back up Azriel in his claim that the Cauldron was indeed wrong in matching Elain with Lucien. There is many instances where it seems like she notices something between Elriel. Nesta as well. Only time will tell.

Anywho, I hope you enjoyed my one little dabble in fanfiction that I wrote long ago.

[miss-shawdowsinger]

Soothing Darkness - Azriel X reader fanfic

Chapter 9

Summary: Starfall is here. Y/N decides she needs some space so goes to find her own place to watch...

Warnings: talks of past trauma, swearing and fluff

AN: Eeeek so I love this!! I hope you love it as much as me ❤️⭐

Chapter 1

----

“Stop fidgeting” Nesta snarled at you as she completed the finishing touches to your hair. She let the ringlets fall down your back pulling the loose strands away from your face. The dress she was letting you borrow was like nothing you had worn before. It was a dark blue, almost black in some lights and floor length. The material sparkled even in the dimmest of lights. It was long sleeved but backless with a low neckline that showed off the top of your breasts. “Alright, I’m done. Go have a look” Nesta pointed to the full length mirror in the corner of her room.

You stood before the mirror, taking in your own image. The difference you saw from the girl in the mirror a couple of months ago to now was incredible. You had a full toned body, not the weak one you used to have. Your hair had grown longer and your eyes seemed brighter. You sighed deeply.

“You don’t like it?” Nesta snapped. “How can you not, you look beautiful” she spun round with a pair of silver stilettoes in her hand and held them out for you to take.

“No, I love it” you quickly said. “It looks amazing. I just wish Gwyn and Emerie were going to be here tonight” the thought had rattled through your brain all afternoon. You wanted to enjoy Starfall with all your friends. Nesta would be there, but she also had Cassian and her family.

“I feel the same but at least we have each other” Nesta smiled, stopping you mid thought. “I will leave you to put these on” she handed you the stilettoes. “Everyone would have arrived by now, so I better go play host but come find me when you are ready”. You nodded in agreement before she left the room.

You sat on the bed, putting the silver shoes on. They lased around your ancles and up to your calves. It took you a lot longer than you would admit to fiddle around with the laces to get them to sit neatly. You stood in front of the mirror one last time. The dress was beautiful and it hugged your new figure perfectly. You took a deep breath, debating if you could get away with just hiding for the night. Before you could let your thoughts get the better of you, you made your way out of the room and headed to the party.

~~

The room wasn’t as full as the last party, but the atmosphere was still as loud. There were refreshments and small nibbles on tables. Most guests were happily chatting away with quiet music playing in the background. You wondered the outskirts of the room, trying to find Nesta.

“You look like you need a drink” you turned to see Mor with a glass of wine outstretched to you.

“It’s like you read my mind” you laughed and took the wine gratefully. You had only briefly seen Mor since the Winter solstice ball. Sometimes she would arrive just after training and have lunch or be messenger for Rhys to Cassian and Azriel.

“Where are your friends tonight? Gwyn and…. Emerie is it?” Mor feigned not knowing Emerie’s name with a little side glance at you.

“They had other plans unfortunately” you weren’t sure if telling Mor about Emerie’s date was a good idea but you smiled knowingly.

“Ahh” she took a long gulp from her wine. “That’s a shame. Come on, lets go see the others” Mor linked her arm with yours and led you to the balcony. There were more guests on the balcony then inside, ready to see the stars shoot across the midnight blue sky.

“There you are” Nesta was the first of the small group to see you and Mor arrive. Cassian was by her side, along with Rhysand, Fayre, Nyx. “I thought you had gotten lost, or you had made a run for it” she whispered the last bit to you.

“I found her looking like a bit of a lost puppy” Mor squeezed your arm and you gave her a fake scowl which she laughed at. You greeted everyone whilst sipping from your wine, already needing a top up. You were about to excuse yourself when a familiar face stepped out of the shadows and joined the group. Azriel wore his black jacket and trousers with a white shirt. His hazel eyes caught yours and he smiled. His smile nearly made your knees buckle.

“Y/N” Rhys pulled your attention away from the Illyrian. “May I have a quick word?” he gestured to step away from the group and you weren’t about to refuse the high lord. You glanced a look at Azriel, who’s brows were knitted together slightly as you followed Rhysand to a quiet part of the balcony. “How are you?” Rhys voice was soft but laced with concern.

“I’m alright thank you” you nodded barley able to keep contact with his violet eyes. “You?”

“I’m good” he chuckled slightly. “I meant after everything a couple of months ago. I’m sorry I haven’t been around to check on you. I hear you are still living in the house?” he took you by surprise. You knew the high lord of the night court wasn’t what most people knew him to be. But you never thought for one moment that he would want to or feel he had to check on you after what had happened, let alone apologise.

“Oh” words failed you. “I’m better but yes I am staying here…. but it’s only temporary, I didn’t mean to outstay my welcome” You began to nervously ramble. Rhys held up his hand to stop you.

“Whoa, I didn’t mean that” he smiled politely. “Stay as long as you need, you could never outstay your welcome. There is plenty of room. I just wanted to make sure you feel safe”. Safe? You still had sleepless night, woken up by past terrors but you couldn’t be more safe then where you were.

“I do” you nodded. “Thank you”.

“Is the training helping? I hear you’ve progressed”. You glanced back at the two Illyrians on the other side of the balcony. Cassian was laughing at something Mor was saying and Azriel was looking in your direction. He quickly turned his attention elsewhere when he noticed you looking his way.

“Yes, the training has helped a lot. Cassian and Azriel are good teachers” you swallowed. You were unsure where this convocation was heading. The High lord of the night court was asking you about your daily life, you were staying at his house. It all felt very unreal.

“They are my best worriers” Rhys smiled. “I’m sure Azriel has made it clear but I assure you that nothing like that will happen again. You have my word” his violet eyes met yours. There was no hesitation or white lie there. He meant what he said, and you could see the guilt that hid behind his stare.

“I believe you” you said it more for him then for you. His face softened with relief. Just from the short convocation with Rhysand you could tell he really cared for the people of Velaris. He didn’t want anyone to feel unsafe in his city. For that, you could trust him.

“I hope you enjoy tonight. If you ever have any issues please let me know” Rhys patted you lightly on the shoulder. You nodded your thanks to him as the two of you began to make your way back over to the group. You noticed another two people had joined. Amren was now stood with Fayre and Elain was stood next to Azriel. Her blush pink dress matched her soft complexion as her beautiful long hair fell to one side. Your heart dropped as she smiled so longingly at the Illyrian you had grown to care for. He was smiling back as they exchanged pleasant convocation.

Mor handed you another glass of wine as you reached her side. You had to stop yourself from downing the whole thing. You kept your attention on Mor as she spoke to the group, trying to ignore Elain and Azriel. You could see them in your peripheral vision, you could hear her giggling at something he had said. It was like you were being punched in the gut but you put on a front. You didn’t want anyone to see the truth of your feelings towards the spymaster. This silly schoolgirl crush you had on him.

“It’s about to start” Fayre picked Nyx up in her arms and strode to the railing of the balcony. Everyone formed a line along the rails to get a good view at the stars above. You were about to join when you saw Azriel lead Elain over to the balcony her arm snaked through his elbow. They stood next to one another and looked out waiting for the stars to fall. At first there was a small gap between them but Elain began to lean into him, closing the gap.

Fuck it. You gulped back the last of your wine. The last thing you wanted was to have to watch them flirt with each other all night. As everyone’s attention was on the view ahead of them, you took the opportunity and left the balcony. You knew there was another, quieter balcony you could go to that was only two floors up.

You picked the hem of your dress up as you started to climb the stairs. The last two Starfalls you had sat at the window in your apartment watching by yourself. This year would be no different apart from the better view. When you reached the second level, you were the only one there. You breathed a sigh of relief as you stepped out into the night and leaned your forearms against the railing of the quiet balcony. You could hear the faint chatter from two floors below, but this seemed right somehow. More peaceful.

Staring out at the dark sky, you wished your mother were here. Starfall had always been her favourite holiday in Velaris. You would climb to the roof of the bakery and sit out all night with snacks as the stars shot across the sky. This would be your third Starfall without her.

“So, this is where you ran off to” a voice broke through your thoughts. You spun round to see Azriel stood in the doorway to the balcony.

“I didn’t run” you gulped as your heart leaped into your throat. “I just wanted to watch somewhere more quiet” you half lied.

“Mind if I join you on that?” he waited in the doorway.

“Don’t you want to watch with the others?” with Elain, you thought.

“I quite enjoy the quiet too” Azriel’s shadows circled around his neck. “I’ve spent many Starfall’s with them, I’m sure they won’t mind if I spend this one two floors above them” he smirked.

“If you are sure, then go ahead” you smiled. He made his way across the balcony and stood at the railing beside you. He rested one of his arms on the rail with his body turned to face you.

“You look beautiful” his deep voice sent shivers up your spine. Heat rushed to your cheeks at the compliment.

“A bit of a difference from fighting leathers?” your voice came out slightly squeaky. Azriel gave a small laugh as his eyes met yours.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak a star shot across you vision. It lit the black sky up with colour as more stars started flying. It was beautiful, each star seemed to paint the black canvas with bright light. You and Azriel stood closely together staring up and watching as hundreds of bright stars danced together.

The two of you stayed like that. Hearing the downstairs balcony gasp and laugh as Stars fell so closely you could almost touch them. Azriel’s forearm rested right next to yours. His wings slightly held behind your back to allow his closeness. His warmth radiating onto you as you silently watched.

“It’s nice that you do this every year” you said as a star rushed past your head, leaving a bright green trail behind it. “Spending it surrounded by the people you love” you briefly looked down at the group on the balcony below. Your eyes landed on Elain as she stared up to the stars. You breathed in a sigh, thinking about the way they looked at one another. Why wasn’t he with her now?

“How did you used to spend it?” he asked as you turned you attention back to the skies.

“With my mother. She used to absolutely love this” you said as a small tear fell down your cheek.

“My mother did too” his voice was laced with sorrow. You glanced up at him. It was the first time Azriel had spoken about is actual family to you. He stared out at the falling stars, his eyes shining with their bright light. “It was one of the few things I actually knew about her”.

“I’m sorry” you didn’t know what to say. He carried on staring out at the sky above, his face unreadable. He sighed softly.

“There isn’t anything to apologise for” he shook his head. “It was my father and step-mothers fault I barely knew her” you stayed silent. You didn’t want to push him with questions so you waited to see if he wanted to carry on. “I was born a bastard. My step-mother hated me. I was a constant reminder of my father’s adultery, so she locked me away for the first eleven years of my life. Out of sight, out of mind” Azriel’s teeth clenched as he gripped the railing in front of him. “The room was always dark and small. It had no windows, no room to fly.

“I was only able to see my mother for one hour every week. I didn’t learn much about her, but it was the only kindness I was ever shown. I imagine if she had the chance, she would have been a good mother. It wasn’t until I was eleven when my father dumped me at windhaven to train that I actually spent any time out of the room. I was miles behind everyone, I’d never even used my wings. I had to learn how to fly when everyone else had been flying as long as they could walk. If it wasn’t for Rhys and Cassian I wouldn’t have survived. But I never saw my mother again.” he finally looked up to you. Your eyebrows knitted together as you felt the tears sting your eyes.

“Azriel, I-“ you couldn’t find the words. His hazel eyes glanced at the scar on your neck and then to his own scared hands.

“When I was eight years old my two half brothers thought it would be fun to experiment on me. Illyrians have fast healing powers and they wanted to see how fast they truly were” his voice turned cold. Your chest tightened as you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to listen to the horrors he endured. “They covered my hands in oil and set them on fire. My fathers warriors heard me but they were too late to save my hands” he stared at his scared hands, flexing them in front of his face.

His face had returned to the one you saw on the night of the attack. Laced with nothing but pure anger as he stared at his hands. Your heart pounded in your chest. You wanted to do anything, say anything that would bring him comfort but you couldn’t find the words.

“These” he flexed his hands. “I was left with these ugly, ruined hands as a constant reminder” he growled, a mixture of pain and shame plastered on his face. You couldn’t bare to think about what ran through his mind or how he viewed himself whenever he looked at the scars.

“No” your almost shouted voice came as a shock even to you. He turned to face you, still holding his hands in front of him, his face unreadable. Your heart broke for him as his hazel eyes met yours. Without thinking you took his scared hands gently in yours. “There is nothing about you that is ugly Azriel. Not to me.” the words flowed out of you.

His eyes widened slightly as you held his warm hands. You looked up at him, waiting for him to push you away or break the ever growing silence. But he just looked at you, stunned. You swallowed as the stars kept falling behind you, illuminating his beautiful features. He closed the distance between the two of you. His tall frame towering above you, sheltering you from the cold wind.

One of his hands dropped yours in order to caress your cheek, sending warm shivers throughout your body. Your breath hitched in your throat as his eyes flicked from yours to your lips. Time slowed down as Azriel tilted his head down, his throat bobbed slightly. The world seemed to go silent as his lips met yours.

His lips were warm and soft as he kissed you. His hand moved to the back of your neck tilting your head while the other now sat at your waist, pulling your body into his. Your heart began racing as he held onto you, deepening the kiss. His tongue grazed along your bottom lip asking for permission. You granted it, by opening your mouth.

He took full access, moving his tongue against yours in perfect harmony. Using his hand on your waist, he pulled you even closer to him. Your bodies now fully flushed against one another whist your arms wrapped around his neck. He broke this kiss for a split second, allowing you to catch your breath before reattaching his lips to yours. He tasted amazing on your tongue. His hands wondered down your spine to the curve of you ass, leaving a hot trail behind them.

Every fibre of your being was telling you to give him more. To give him everything but he pulled away. He leant his forehead on yours whilst you caught your breath. Both his arms now held you around your waist, keeping you in place against him. His hazel eyes met yours. Sudden dread arose in you.

What if he regretted the kiss? Was it just a heat of the moment thing and Elain was downstairs waiting for him? You would never be able to look at him again.

He smiled brightly before placing one gentler kiss to your lips. The dread faded away as quickly as it came as you returned his smile. Still catching his breath, he said “You have no idea how long I’ve….”

“There you are” Azriel was cut off. The two of you spun round, releasing each other quickly. The heat from him leaving you cold instantly. You were both too caught up in the moment to hear that someone had approached and was now waiting in the doorway with a huge smirk plastered across his face. “Rhys wondered where you were and told me to come find you” Cassian had his arms crossed over his chest, one eyebrow raised in a knowing look.

“Of course he did” Azriel almost growled at Cassian.

“After you” Cassian gestured to the door, trying to keep himself from laughing. Azriel turned to you, placing a hand on your lower back in a gesture for you to go first. You moved across the balcony to Cassian who winked at you as you passed him. You gave him a rude gesture which only made him laugh more.

You felt as if you were being escorted through the house as the two Illyrians followed closely behind you. Glancing back, you saw Azriel’s face back to it’s unreadableness and Cassian smirking to himself. You couldn’t believe what had just happened. Azriel had kissed you. You could still taste his lips on yours as you made your way to the main balcony.

The small group were where you had left them, gathered along the balcony as Starfall came to an end. You joined them, standing next to Nesta as Azriel stood at your other side between you and Elain. His warm presence once again at your side.

“Where did you run off too?” Nesta snapped.

“I went to find somewhere quiet to watch Starfall. I’m sorry Nesta” you cringed. Not completely a lie. You tried to steady your racing heart as your cheeks burnt with the thought of what had just happened. Nesta said something else but your attention was occupied with Elain and Azriel’s convocation.

She had asked him where he had been, and he simply said to find you. “You missed it” she sighed sadly. “You’ll have to make up for it next year” she smiled shyly at him. He just nodded in response unaware of you eavesdropping.

~~

The rest of the night was full of drinking and dancing until there was only the small group of you left at the house of wind. You all retired to the living room, huddled together on sofas in front of a warm fire. There was a small space in between Mor and Fayre which you took gladly.

Azriel took as seat on the sofa opposite you. Every so often you would catch his eye and smile, heat flushing your cheeks. Your mind was going crazy as you listened to the group around you. What was going to happen now? Would you wake up tomorrow and he regret the whole thing? What would have happened if Cassian hadn’t had interrupted?

“Did you enjoy Starfall Y/N?” Fayre asked sweetly. Tearing your attention away from your own thoughts, you looked at the beautiful High Lady.

“Yes, very much. Thank you” you could feel Azriel’s eyes on you as you answered. “Was this Nyx’s first?” you deflected.

“Yes” she beamed holding the beautiful baby in her arms. “I think he rather enjoyed it”.

An hour passed before you finally decided to take your leave and go to bed. You said goodnight to everyone that was still awake and left the room. There was a small piece of you that wished a certain someone would follow you but that would have made things a bit too obvious.

As you shut your bedroom door behind you, you allowed yourself to smile. You couldn’t control it anymore. Your fingers featherlight touched your lips where Azriel’s had been just a couple of hours ago. The warmth they had brought as his body pressed against yours. Your mind played the scene over and over in your head.

Although you were playing the kiss over and over again in your head. Azriel had also confined a small part of his past with you. How he was treated. He was right when he told you that he understood how you felt, way back when you told him about your own past. All you wanted him to know was that there was no part of himself to be ashamed of and he had kissed you for it. Tomorrow. What was tomorrow going to bring? You would not only have to face Azriel but Cassian. Cassian had caught you holding one another closely. You just hoped that whatever tomorrow brought, it wasn’t going to be awkward.

Chapter 10

[amoebaforce]

I'm unsure if requests are open but if they are

Any odds you could do something with Urianger and the other scions comforting a WoL (who uses it/it's if that's fine, if not they/them works too) who has been brought to an emotional breaking point over missing G'raha Tia during ShB. Who, to the WoL's knowledge was nowhere to be found in the crystal tower, and is not in the first.

(Sorry if the phrasing with this is bad I'm not fully sure how else to phrase it. I think I should include here that it'd not be all the scions at once but like, if one of them specifically noticed.)

Sticking with Urianger for this one, anon. It deserves to be fleshed out and not tacked on with other Scions (but if you want those too, please ask).

tags: angst, G'raha x WoL shipping, gn!WoL word count: 780

Urianger can't sleep. No matter how tight he draws the curtains, no matter how far he buries himself under duvets and pillows, the ever-burning sky is just too bright. Groaning, he pushes himself up from his borrowed bed and blinks into the pale-gold clouds.

"Blasted Light," he mutters, slipping a dressing gown over his shoulders.

Urianger ties his robe and shoves his feet into a pair of slippers, then pads out into The Pendant's arched hallway. It must be past midnight, but a lonely violin melody floats up from somewhere below, slow and sweet as flowing honey. The song of a fellow night-owl, unwilling or unable to shut their eyes. Urianger sighs.

By the time he realizes his body is moving, it's too late to resist. He follows the sound down, down, called as if by sirens, until he finds its source: a single bard in an empty courtyard, taking advantage of the isolation to practice some sheet music. At the sight, Urianger is... oddly dissatisfied.

Why? he wonders. It's not like he was expecting anyone in particular. But as he turns to leave, a flash of movement catches the elezen's eye. Along the courtyard's farthest edge, tucked up on a bench, is none other than the Warrior of Light. Urianger freezes. Confusion stings at his senses, even stronger than the garish sky.

And once again, he's approaching before he can think. The Warrior perks up at the sound of his steps, shoulders stiffening as though they've been caught in some nefarious act. A pang of sympathy passes through Urianger's chest.

"I see you, too, are plagued by restlessness tonight," he offers slowly.

The Warrior's purple-ringed eyes shift to the empty space between their shoes. They gesture to the empty seat beside them. Urianger nods and settles in, and for a long moment, no one speaks. The bard plays the chorus twice, trying to correct some imperceptible flaw.

"This song," the Warrior says suddenly. "It reminds me of one back home."

Urianger hums. "Which one?"

"I don't know its name... I don't even remember the words. But I know the minstrels in Mor Dhona used to play it late at night, when it was just me and Raha-"

The Warrior pauses mid-word. Urianger steals a glance, only to find their eyes misty with tears.

"I'm sorry," they say. "I just... I miss him."

The Warrior's sorrow overflows, breaths hiccuping in their chest. Urianger freezes like a mouse in the shadow of a hawk. His heart stutters, sodden with guilt.

Godsdammit, why does he always end up here? Forced to lie, to double-cross and obfuscate in service of some grander plan, even when it hurts his friends. Why does it always have to be him?

Perhaps this is my burden, he thinks. Perhaps this is the cost of seeing ahead.

But that doesn't make it feel any better. Urianger knots his hands in his robe, hiding his whitening knuckles.

"Do not apologize," he replies. "We have all left much and more behind."

"I know," the Warrior sniffs. "It's just... G'raha said he'd be inside. I saw him go inside, but we've looked and looked for weeks, and he's nowhere."

"That does not mean that he has suffered any great misfortune. The tower is vast and esoteric; there are myriad places yet to explore."

But it is pointless, a crueler thought scolds. He has been here all along, right in front of you, and I am the reason you have not realized.

Urianger shakes the notion away.

"Gods, why is this happening?" the Warrior weeps, burying their head in their hands. "Why isn't it enough to be ripped away from home and deposited into this horrible place? Why did I have to lose him, too?"

"You have not."

"Yes, I have. Just like everything else I've ever loved."

"No," Urianger says, fiercer than he means to. "No. Once we have cleansed this benighted land and fulfilled our destiny here, we will find a way home, and you will see that not all is lost. I swear it to you."

The Warrior blinks at him, and Urianger fights the urge to wince. Has he said too much? Has his impulsive declaration invited questions he cannot answer?

But then, the Warrior wraps their arms around his shoulders and pulls, folding Urianger into a grateful embrace, and the elezen blows out a relieved sigh.

"Thanks, Urianger," they say. "You're right. As long as Raha is out there somewhere, I can't give up looking for him. I mean, what kind of hero does that?"

Urianger utters a half-hearted chuckle and pats them on the shoulder.

"No such hero as you are, my friend," he tells them.

[feyresdaughter]

A Court of Frost and Starlight, chapter 16-18:

Rhys POV

I snorted. “Careful how you whine. Feyre calls us Illyrian babies often enough.” Azriel chuckled. “Her flying has improved enough that I think she’s entitled to do so.” Pride rippled through me. Perhaps she wasn’t a natural, but she made up for it with sheer grit and focus.

AZRIEL AND RHYS BEING PROUD OF FEYRE AWWW

She looked radiant. Indeed, as Feyre emerged from the kitchen hallway, I took a moment to simply drink her in from where I sat in an armchair near the fire. She went right to Mor—perhaps because Mor was holding the wine, the bottle already outreached. I admired the view from behind as Feyre’s glass was filled. It was an effort to leash every raging instinct at that particular view. At the curves and hollows of my mate, the color of her—so vibrant, even in this room of so many personalities. Her midnight-blue velvet gown hugged her perfectly, leaving little to the imagination before it pooled to the floor. She’d left her hair down, curling slightly at the ends—hair I knew I later wanted to plunge my hands into, scattering the silver combs pinning up the sides. And then I’d peel off that dress. Slowly. “You’ll make me vomit,”Amren hissed, kicking me with her silver silk shoe from where she sat in the armchair adjacent to mine. “Rein in that scent of yours, boy.”I cut her an incredulous look. “Apologies.”

HE'S SO INTO FEYRE HE'S STINKING INTO AMRENS ZONE

Until—“Do you even celebrate Solstice in the Summer Court?” Until Cassian decided to open his mouth.

I want a young bat boys novella. Rhys already is so used to this shit, that happened A LOT

Varian turned his head toward where Cassian and Azriel lounged on the sofa, his silver hair sparkling in the firelight. “In the summer, obviously. As there are two Solstices.” Azriel hid his smile by taking a sip from his wine. Cassian slung an arm across the back of the sofa. “Are there really?” Mother above. It was going to be this sort of night, then.

Hehehehe

Feyre appeared beside my seat, her scent settling into me. I tugged her down to perch on the rolled arm of my chair. She did so with a familiarity that warmed something deep in me, not even bothering to look my way before her arm slid around my shoulders. Just resting there—just because she could. Mate. My mate.

Their love is everything to me

Feyre POV

He’d propped his head on a fist, his wings draped across the bed behind him. “Happy birthday, Feyre darling.” I groaned. “How are you smiling after all that wine?” - “I didn’t have a whole bottle to myself, that’s how.” He traced a finger down the groove of my spine

“I was hoping you’d forget.” Rhys smirked. “Of course you were.” Yawning, I dragged myself into a kneeling position, stretching my arms high above my head before I pulled the gift to me. “I thought we were opening presents tonight with the others.” - “It’s your birthday,” he drawled. “The rules don’t apply to you.” I rolled my eyes at that , even as I smiled a bit.

SJM should write more fluff, she hit the nail on the head with acofas

“Had you not been hoping that your own mate would forget your birthday.” I snorted. “Had I not been hoping for that.” I kissed him again, and when I made to pull away, he slid a hand behind my head and kept me there. He kissed me deeply, lazily— as if he’d be content to do nothing but that all day. I might have considered it.

“I want to draw you,”I said. “As my birthday present to me.”His smile was positively feline. I added, flipping open my sketchbook and turning to the first page, “You said once that nude would be best.”Rhys’s eyes glowed, and a whisper of his power through the room had the curtains parting, flooding the space with midmorning sunshine. Showing every glorious naked inch of him sprawled across the bed, illuminating the faint reds and golds of his wings. “Do your worst, Cursebreaker.”

He did that so fast, he was WAITING for this

She handed me one of the tarts, sugar sparkling. I bit in without hesitation and let out a hum of pleasure. Elain beamed.

Feyre and Elain in acofas are everything

“There’s an old manor house in the southeast, in the humans’ territory. Jurian and Vassa were … gifted it.” From the lines that bracketed his mouth, I knew who had likely arranged for the manor to fall into their hands. Graysen— or his father. I didn’t dare glance at Elain. “Rhys mentioned that they were still in Prythian. I didn’t realize it was such a permanent base.” Both trying to lead the humans who occupied the sliver of land at the southernmost end of Prythian. Left ungoverned for so long. Too long. No king or queen remained in these lands. No memory of their name, their lineage. At least amongst humans. The Fae might know.

That's a weird thing to mention so randomly

“Interesting.” His golden eye whirred. “What is.” Not feeling very festive at all, I said sharply, “That you now feel more comfortable with humans than with the High Fae. If you ask me—”

Just realized that Feyre feels hurt oh my heart

“I know you still blame yourself for your sisters being Made.”Mor nudged my knee with her own. “And because of that, you want to fix everything for them now that they’re here.” - “I always wanted to do that,”I said glumly. Mor smiled crookedly. “That’s why we love you. Why they love you.”

First of all, Feyre just wants everyone to be happy, she's adorable 😭 and second of all, MOR I LOVE YOU

Rhys’s answering laugh was bright as the sun on snow.

The way they are describing each other's laughs is everything, EVERYTHING, to me. EVERYTHING. Fr

“Three Illyrian warriors,” I said. “The greatest Illyrian warriors. Are having a snowball fight.” Mor’s eyes practically glowed with wicked delight. “Since they were children.” - “They’re over five hundred years old.” - “Do you want me to tell you the running tally of victories?”

Awwww

[casuallivi]

The Midnight Kiss

Azriel took a hike this chap 😬😬 his inner thoughts were secluded from me😓😓 Fear not, Elain had no problem in blabbing for three two . Enjoy your Elain-fest, i guess… Adopte an author today, and win the privilege of helping to keep the flame alive! See ya 😻😽

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 6: In need of a Scotty to beam her up

Hands roaming each other's bodies in a hurry, a trail of discarded clothes leading to the bedroom, ragged breaths and frantic steps finding the way towards the bed, two bodies rolling around the sheets, her soft moans and his rough groans matching the “thud, ” of the headboard denting the wallpaper, a symphony of,

“Faster,”

“Harder,”

“Deeper,”

“There. Right there,”

“Yes, yes, yes.”

loud enough to haunt her nosy neighbor for days to come!

Had they been a regular couple, that’s how their third date would be coming to an end; in a steamy encounter between the sheets.

Since they were Azriel and Elain, their third date came to an end with the couple talking in his car, the engine roaring smoothly on the background.

Elain Archeron had been away from the dating scene for five years, yet the rules had not changed much: People expected to get laid by the third date. Sometimes on the first date, or even before having a first date! Bottom line is, go down dirty and hard in the first opportunity you have, put all the chemistry to test to avoid settling down with someone you have no interest in sleeping with. Despite not understanding the appeal of sleeping around, Elain agreed that a couple’s sexual life played a big part in the relationship. She also knew good bedroom chemistry turned into shackles when a guy treated you like shit outside of it. Worst bargain coin ever. Elain had been in one of those relationships before. It took so long for her to see how shitty her last relationship was, and finally break free from it, that once she did, Elain retracted from men all together. Hence the birth of her Crush Land.

Elain’s Crush Land was her happy place, a safe space where she could fantasize about the men she found attractive, without actually having to get involved with them. After all, it was much easier to crush from a distance than to get close and end up disappointed, especially when she had no confidence in maintaining a healthy relationship. In her Land the men were all perfect, flawless, fulfilling all of her expectations without her having to explain a thing. As every good sovereign, she establish ground rules for her Land, two unbreaklabe rules that kept her reign peaceful for years:

1º)This cannot be a one-Crush-land;

2º) The maximum of days a Crush can remain in his throne, is seven days. After that, he's trouble.

With time, Elain grow attached to her delusional lifestyle, content with her fantasies, her Crush Land providing all the male interaction she needed. Until she met Cassian.

Goddamn Cassian Marino, with his massive size and perfect round ass, sauntering into her life flaunting his silky hair and megawatt smiles, destroying everything she worked hard to perfect.  Cass refused to fit into her equation, shattering her one-week-crush mold, frequently appearing in her mind till he was the only guy she could fantasize about. Funny thing is that was her wake up call. Ah, Elain thought sadly, I must be lonely.

Loneliness was a bitch. Especially for someone like her, who had been in relationships more than she had been alone. That’s why her Crush Land was important. No matter how silly it sounded, it helped her to learn to be alone, feel fulfilled by herself, not depend on a partner to give her worth. Elain was worthy. And her ever growing infatuation with Cass was proof that she was ready to get back into the dating world, preferably with him.

Life was also a bitch, slapping her, laughing at her pathetic hopeful plans, rubbing Cass' smoking-hot grilfriend in her face, before she could even have the chance to embarass herself with a confession. Cassian deciding to start when Elain decided to start dating, only to end up dating someone that was not her would be hilarious, had it not happened to her. It did happen to her, and Elain was devastated. But no matter! She would not let that stop her from taking a leep of faith with another guy.

Did she expected for this guy to be Cass' brother? No.

Did she expect for this guy to be her work-nemesis? Also, no.

Did she expect for this guy to be both, and despite the fact she knew that, to accept dating him anyway? Absolutly not!

Sometimes spontaneity made her do crazy things.

Elain would be the first one to admit Azriel's credentials were not looking good. But no matter! Azriel had showed he was interested in moving on too, and Elain was nothing, if not an optimist. She was confident about her abilities to move on, ready to conquer any challange life throw her way! All she needed was a guy who was willing to take her, not tame her, and everything would work out.

That’s how she found herself in boss-turned-boyfriend situation. What Elain and Azriel were doing was different from everything she had ever tried. This time she started dating her boyfriend before even liking him properly, going on dates to get to know each other. And Elain was enjoying this “get to know me” stage, enjoying discovering the little things she would not know simply by working with him.

Despite not having his brother’s easy disposition to accommodate strangers and make everyone feel comfortable with a flash of his white teeth, Azriel wasn’t the cold-hearted tin man she anticipated. As she got to know him, Elain discovered Azriel had no problem in being open and honest about his feelings, his expectations regarding their relationship, his desire to fall in love with her.

Elain was surprised to know he wasn't just interested in moving on, he was interested in her too! Initially, she thought they would help each other get over their exes, gain confidence with the opossite sex, and move on to find actual partners. Azriel nearly blew a fuse when she told him that.

"Let me get this straight. You wanna date me, to date another guy?" "Yeah, we," "No." He stopped her. "You'll date another girl, too," "No." "Let me finish," "No. You are not dating another guy! Are you out of your damn mind?" He interrupted, a vein popping in his forehead. "I warned you, Elain, I warned you I don't do casual. You date me, you are mine, and I do not share what's mine. Fuck no, you'll not date another guy."

Elain thought women's hormones sure worked in mysterious ways, because she had no business finding a domineering man that sexy. So, she changed routes, treating him as a real boyfriend, trying her best to box all his annoying bits to focus in his qualities –a feature she spent the better part of a year believing he did not have. Turned out he did.

It pained her old self to admit this, but Azriel was excellent in his job. He was also beautiful –she was dying to get him in front of her lenses– educated –when he wanted to be– from a good family, with good values, and apparently, extra sexy when he claimed his domain of her. It would be a lie to say a man like that, showing interest in you, didn’t send butterfly into a frenzy in a girl’s belly. Azriel being an attentive boyfriend didn't hurt either.

Even busy, he made sure to text her here and there throughout the the week, matching his free time to hers so they could go on dates. Since their relationship changed from coworkers to lovers, he started watching his tone, policing himself to not lash at her as he usually would – in fact, Azriel was treating the entire team better. Taking did breaths to control his temper while rejecting ideas, reducing the number of times he indiretcly called them stupid during a day, and he had only told her to shut up twice this week – a progress if she ever saw one. It was her fault, honestly. Elain couldn't help it, provoking him was fun.

Plus, bantering didn't end with her wanting to punch his teeth out anymore, now they ended with him cornering her in the empty pantry, his office, the elevator, he parking lot, deseert corridors, Azriel tracking her down to bite the snarkiness out of her lips.

“Jesus, you are such a biter,” she pointed out one day, after a particularly sharp nip. “Learned from you,” he breathed in her mouth.

Guilty. Elain couldn’t get enough of his plushy lips, nibbling and sucking on them till Azriel lost his stark facade, self-control thrown out the window, forgetting they stood in company property to press her on the nearest corner, groaning into her mouth, closing his long finger around her throat, making a mess of her hair. The man seemed obsessed with her hair and her neck. Elain was quickly becoming obsessed with his neck too, tip-toeing to fill it with wet kisses, leaving hickeys at the base, just shy from the collar of his dress shirts, like a little secret hidden in plain sight. It felt good to brand her teeth on his skin. A small punishment for all the times he made he want to punch his face.

At the end of the day, Elain wasn’t in love with Azriel, but she sure liked being his girlfriend. So much so, that when he pulled up in front of her building, she began to stall, coaxing him into conversing a little bit longer, not wanting to part.

Now she sat in his car, asking him endless questions about a subject most girlfriends would avoid like the plague: His ex.

“So you never had a girlfriend? Like, never, ever.” She asked for the third time, stunned with the complex and crazy history of her boyfriend.

Elain knew it wasn’t proper to use their date night to play 21 questions about his ex, but she was a curious person.

“If you want to get technical about it. She didn’t want labels. Had no problems getting the advantages of one, tho.”

His eyes dipped to her leg, which was bare, courtesy of her peach pleated skirt, a question clear in his hazel orbs. Elain allowed silently, watching as he gently ran his knuckles over the longitudinal scar dividing her kneecap in two halves, the line of scar tissue lighter than her skin.

"Does it still hurt?"

"Only if it gets too cold. My doc said it’s psychological, I said he isn’t the one feeling the pins burning. I swear to you, my orthopedist is whack, never trust your knee to Edgar Montero from Beacon Hill, never."

"How many pins?"

Elain lifted two fingers. Azriel removed his hand.

"It's fine, most of the time I forget about it."

He reached for his jacket on the back seat, draping it over her legs.

“Thanks,” Elain undid the straps of her sandals, not noticing him adjusting the temperature, and crossed her legs under his jacket, snapping a quick pic of her covered legs, catching the shoes on his carfloor. Then she returned to the subject of her interest. “Oh man, that’s a lot of responsibility, being someone’s first girlfriend. Just so you know, I had a lot of boyfriends, lots of experience.”

Azriel turned on his seat to better face her. “I have a decade of experience.”

She used her hand to make and “0” shape, saying, “stil had zero girlfriends. Were you lonely?"

Elain was. In her last relationship, Elain felt lonely even though she wasn't alone. She never wanted to experience that feeling again.

Azriel merely shrugged. “Work kept me busy enough.”

“Life is more than fashion, Marino. Life is bitter without the sweet frosting of love."

"Let me guess: that's why you fall in love easily."

"touché." She winked at him.

His raven-hair touched the headrest, Azriel closing his eyes. "How many boyfriend are we talking about?" he asked casually.

"You sure you wanna know?"

"Mmh."

"Most people prefer not to know about their partners past..." she taunted.

Azriel opened one eye, giving her an incredulous look. "You are so full of shit. You literally spent," he looked at his watch, "one hour and twenty minutes interrogating me."

It was her time to shrug, playing it cool. "I'm confident like that." Bullshit. Freaking curious enough to put George to shame, that's what she was.

"Stop stalling." Damn it, he knew her antics.

"Since you insist. Don't go crying later!" she gave him a last warn, putting a hand on her chest. "Just so you know, I'm extremely loyal. Got my first boyfriend entering high school, dated him till senior year. We broke up, I started dating this other guy in college, we were together till I turned twenty-four – he kind of traumatized me a little, but that's story for another time. Then I met this cute guy on tinder, he was stinky rich, but I think his mom wanted to bone him." Elain grimaced, using air quotes to repeat the nasty words she had to hear. "That lady was not happy to see her 'precious golden boy' with a 'lousy photographer'. I am not lousy. A goddamn amazing photographer, that's wha I am. Dumped his ass and won a contest later that month, thank you very much, mama Vanserra.”

Six months after breaking up with Graysen, Elain got into a bad funk. She missed intimacy, missed sex, and the worst part, she missed Graysen. To avoid crawling back to him, she tried a dating app, finding Lucien Vanserra on the first swipe, who she got involved with for three blissful months. Then his crazy mother started wanting to compete with Elain for her son’s love and affection. The woman acted like her son was her late husband. Yikes.

“And?” Azriel urged to go on, his voice bringing her out of memory lane.

“And what?”

"You said you dated a lot, I'm waiting for the "lot" part."

Elain grabbed the front of his shirt, twisting the fabric. "How dare you criticize my lovely love history? You never had a girlfriend. You are like, like – a dating novice!”

Azriel made sure his eye roll was a deliberately slow one, grabbing her chin to bring her closer. “You dated two guys and a half.”

"Why a half?"

"You never dated the third asshole."

“Still dated more than you.”

“Questionable.”

Elain snorted, impressed with his audacity to judge her when he never managed to get a single girl to date him. Before she could tell him to shove it, Azriel ran his thumb across her lower lip. He knew just how to shush her, because Elain went inert instantly. 

“Are you done interrogating me, now?” She nodded. “Or do you wish to reminisce about your harem a little longer?” She shook her head.

There was no need to think about a witty reply. Azriel wasn’t actually interested in an answer, didn’t wait for on either.

He kissed her with all the patient she didn’t have, taking his time in tasting her lips; and there they were without fail, the goddamn fireworks blowing behind her lids like they did every time he touched her. Elain melted into him. His kiss was unhurried, throughtful, lips moving with the same tender assurance of the hand palming the beck of her neck, finger tangling in the waves at her nape, tugging in delicious way that was neither too harsh nor too tight. Perfect. His touch was perfect.

Elain endure the slow tempo the best she could, the kiss lingering like the sweetest of punishments. She let him conduct the pace till she was tingling all over, goosebumps coating her skin, Then she exploded, untamed and unleashed.

Where Azriel was calm, Elain was the storm. She wasted no time with gentleness, sticking her tongue in his mouth to deepen the kiss, delighting in his small flinch of surprise. Elain throw her arms around his neck like a desperate drowning girl in search of a life jacket to cling to, Azriel shuddering under her embrace, matching her wild pace with no struggle. Elain loved how versatile he was, changing from one type of kiss to another with easy, allowing her to guide him, to coach him as she saw fit. Heavy panting soon filled the air, the peculiar couple getting lost in the erratic kiss. When Azriel released her, his voice was lower than usual, rough on the edges, a black ocean smothering the beautiful hazel of his eyes.

"Is the experienced up to your standards, madam?"

She barely nodded, lipstick smudged all over, eyes glazed with need, searching for his mouth again.

Few were the things capable of turning Elain silent and compliant.

Azriel's kiss was on top of that list.

.

.

.

Elain sidestepped into the conference room carrying four colorful binders, arms feeling like jelly under the heavy weight, huffing from the small walks from the room to her desk. Okay, maybe the material wasn’t that heavy and she was the one out of shape. Christ, she needed to exercise more frequently. Elain could not remember the last time she did some cardio, except for running to the bakery two blocks down from her place. Fine, she needed to exercise, period.

She dropped her cargo on the long table, organizing the variety of fabric swatches, reference data and sponsoring proposals Nuala left in her care, snapping a quick photo of it all. Nuala caught a nasty flu she was trying to nurse before their business trip, leaving Elain, Miguel and Azriel to run their last meeting without her.

Speaking of Azriel…

Elain glanced expectantly at her boss, who was casually leaning against the table, focused solemnly on his tablet, scribbling over the interview draft Miguel presented to him. The assistant writer stood by him, eyes moving furiously from the object to his boss face, fidgeting like a child who waits for parental approval. These days Elain wasn’t much different, constantly rocking on her heels as she waited to snatch his attention.

The reminiscence of daylight seemed to clung to him, highlighting the deep navy of his dress shirt, the color making his profile stand out. The top button was undone, giving her the smallest glimpse of bronzed skin, Elain biting her lip as she remembered what was hidden by his shirt. At the height of his second button laid a little purple bruise, made by her. Elain sighed. How come he was able to stand there, doing nothing but breathe and be serious, and look as good as a seasoned model posing for the camera? Life was unfair. Well, not so unfair since she was the one who got to enjoy this big, sexy, handsome,

“Did your toddler redacted the last questions?” Azriel’s sharp remark interrupted her silent inspection of him. He didn’t raise his voice, didn’t have to, directing his piercing stare at Miguel, who scratched his head, saying,

“I don’t have kids.”

“Figured. A toddler knows better than to ask Wang personal questions. Keep it professional, focus in the progress of her career, she’s prone to be volatile if you don’t. Tis last page is useless. Do it again.”

“Yes, boss man. Will do.”

Behind them, Elain rolled her eyes at Azriel for ruining her sweet memories with his unwanted crudeness. Moments like this, she didn't like him one bit. Azriel wasn't lying when he said it was hard for him to connect with people, and once he got hyperfocused in his job that little detail shined light a beacon. The man was in serious need of an interpersonal relationship coach. Learning the difference between constructive criticism and public humiliation would do wonders to his character.

Elain slammed a clipboard on the table, making a grand show of pretending to sneeze three time, just to slip in the words, “quit,” “being,” “a jerk,” in between. She could hear Azriel taking a deep breath before his neck turned like the little girl in the exorcist.

“Excuse me?”

“You should say “bless you, love”, but thanks.”

Elain could swear the lights flickers. "Are you doing that?" Shuddering, she made the sign of the cross.

Azriel scowled harder. “Are you out of your meds again?”

Oh, the nerve of this man. Liked being his girlfriend her ass. Elain gave him the sweetest smile she could muster, ending up looking like a psycho on the loose.   

“Of course not, Marino. I have my medicine right here,” she pinched his cheeks, Miguel sucking his lips inwards to avoid laughing. “How could I look at this face and not feel healthy and energized? Don’t be a jerk, love, scowling gives you winkles, and God did not make me this hot to date a wrinkled old geezer.”

“I’m not old.”

"You are. Age is a state of mind, and yours show in your grumpiness." She tapped his cheek lightly, smoothing the frown from between his brows. "Relax for me," she said, then, a bit quieter, "that sounds awfully sensual doesn't it? Relax for me."

He seemed peeved, but Elain was positive he wanted to laugh. She could see his lips twitching in the corner.

"You know I'm still your boss, right?"

"So you've told me. Now stop scolding the poor boy, I don't his beautiful soul to be crushed by corporate world. You done with the interview, yeah?" she pushed the remaining binders closer to Azriel, explaining their contents. “Nuala asked to pass this along. This one has partnership proposals. She said to email her if you have any doubt, she’ll be glue to her phone in case you need her. This one has secured sponsors. Take a look at these gorgeous Jacobsen settees we can display on set.” She flipped all the way to page twenty-four, showing him a variety of furniture to choose from, watching him overseeing the selection with keen attention.

“They look rigid,” Azriel commented absently.

“You know all about that, don��t you?” See? Easy to provoke. “I’m aiming for uncomfortable. Is part of the first act. Nuala and I were playing with a couple of scenarios, and I did some sketches. My goal is for it to be hard on the edges, unpleasant, transitioning into a more and welcoming atmosphere once her apprentices come into the picture, color bleeding in. They are her missing piece, her equilibrium.”

She located the blue binder, spreading it open in front of her boss, displaying all the confidence and grace that she had mastered dealing with her previous clientele. Anxious brides needed reassurance, and Elain was an expert in gving it, gently guiding them into her vision with steady steps, making sure to accommodate their hidden desires to create the perfect shooting.

She showed them the pages, giving visual representation of how the model would look in the set, how the poses would convey the message. Azriel analyzed each page quietly, lost in contemplation, contrary to Miguel, who silently shook beside him, clutching his fist to his mouth.

Elain reached in front of Azriel to slap Miguel's arm. “What are you laughing at?”

“You said you sketched.”

“I did.” 

“Angelita, you drew a bunch of stick people.” He lifted the tip of a paper, trying to discern what the heck she had done there. Lots of circles and lines, that's what. “It’s impossible to understand this.”

Elain gasped out loud, dramatically clutching a hand to her chest, gluing the back of her other hand to her forehead.

"Here we go," Azriel muttered, getting out of her way.

Elain staggered towards Miguel, clinging to his jacket, shaking him left and right.

“My own friend. My brother in army!”

“Brother in arms.” Azriel corrected with a shake of the head.

Elain ignored him, way too deep into her theatrical redemption of a betrayed person, continuing her absurd discourse.

“My ally! Here I was, defending your maidenly honor, and you, you! You throw me under the bus! Thou shalt not kill, Miguel, thou shalt not kill! Why do you murder me like this! Have you no compassion? Have you no honor? Why do you betray me, why?" With a final cry, she sobbed into his shirt.

"Alright, alright. Get up now." Miguel held Elain up right, who was still pretending to be weak on the knees. “Couldn’t you have cut some old mags or something?”

“And give you some else’s vision?” her face twisted with horror, Elain pushing away from him to clean her fake tears. “No, thank you. This is an original shooting, with original concept, so we needed original drawings.” She tapped her index on the paper. “You have to look with your third eye, friend.”

“I have that?”

“Everyone does.” Fixing her hair in a ponytail, Elain wiggled herself between the two man, preparing to give a class they would not forget. “Pay attention, por sabor.”

“Por favor," he corrected amused.

“That’s what I said. Look, these are all different poses, kneeling, standing, laying down. I gave my blood for the stick people! Look! Here, she’s falling from a cliff into darkness, see, her arms are trying to grab salvation. Here, they are lying down, bored to death, in desperate need of something new, excitement. Then, boom! Wangsalvation. And here comes Vera," her passionate speech mellowed, for a shadow was casted over her, a strong frame trapping her between his body and the table. Elain wondered if Azriel had an inner furnace, because he always seemed to run hotter than her.

She cleared her throat, struggling to remain professional. "Vera is – Vera...? Yes! Vera. Vera will be waiting for her pupils, reaching her hand like the statue of a goddess, teaching her ways to the youth.”

The heat of Azriel's body seeped into her naked arms as he gently took a hold of her wrist, long soft fingers wrapping around her skin. Mouth-watering muscles flexed as guided her, making her point at something she could not care less.

"What's that one?"

Elain licked her lips, imagining how much prettier he’d look holding both of her wrists, pinning her hands above her head, binders dropped to the ground because she’d be the one spread on this table, harsh hazel eyes darkening with desire as he bent over–

“Models in opposite sides, touching each other’s faces.” She mumbled bewildered.

“Mmmh.” His purring vibrated on her back, Elain gulping at the awareness that she was straight out resting against his front. Her cheeks heated, eyes darting quickly to the witness in the room, only to find him distracted by his phone.

“Hey, Jerry read my email. He'll see me first thing tomorrow,” Miguel said casually. Jerry was their chief-editor, responsible for all the journalist aspects of an issue. “I’ll cut the last page and brainstorm new questions tonight. Maybe he can finish proofreading before we fly out.”

Azriel's hand moved from her wrist to her waist, resting casually at her hip. "I rather you proofread the winner's interview first. Wang is the last to go, there’s time to fix hers.”

“You sure?”

The two exchanged more words Elain didn’t pay an ounce of attention to, too busy digesting her latest daydream. The fact that her fantasies were now starred by a different Marino still caught her by surprise sometimes.

Surely, all that making out, like a couple of unsupervised horny teenagers, was messing with her brain chemistry. Because Azriel went from being nothing but a cranky boss, who made her blood boiling with impatience after their interactions, to be the protagonist of her x-rated story lines, sending her spiraling simply because he touched her wrist –not even her ass or titties, her goddamn wrist! This man’s touch needed to be studied.

The more she thought about it, the clearer it got: Elain not only liked to be Azriel's girlfriend; Elain liked Azriel.

A kiss on top of her head startled Elain back in the present, Miguel long gone from the room.

“I can smell your neurons burning.” Azriel joked, smelling her hair, kissing the same spot from before. The little excited thing in her chest went crazy. “Why is your heart beating so fast?” he whispered in her ear, “I can feel it in my chest.”

Crap, he could feel it?

Elain groaned.

At first, she thought Azriel Marino didn't had a flirtatious bone in his body, later, she understood he simply wasn't into cheesy reckless pick up lines like her. No, Azriel enjoyed other ways to take her off her feet, generally pointing things a gentleman should pretend he hadn't noticed! Sometimes it felt like this man was put on this earth to humble her. Christ, how was she supposed to flirt her way out this? Elain was in need of a Scotty to beam her up and away from here, before this man discovered her weakness. He was already way to powerful for her taste.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that my boss being inappropriate during office hours.”

“Now, she remembers I'm her boss. And you are inappropriate all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s weird when you do it. I'm the funny partner in this relationship.”

Azriel used her jeans beltloops to turn her around till her ass was pressed on the table “Are you?” Since when had this man confused face been so adorable? "You are fun, but funny, tsk tsk. Funny is a big stretch."

His fingers dug in her in waist, cutting her cognitive abilities, stopping her from registering the insult. Was he going to put her up the table? God, she hoped he would. "Cute shirt."

Elain looked down on her white tee design, where two potted plants were having a conversation. One saying, "Aloe, how are you?", the other "Hey, long Thyme no see."

"Thanks."

He traced her lower lip, muttering. "No lipstick, today?"

Before she could control herself, Elain let her tongue dart outside, meetind the pad of his thumb. "Didn't want to smear you," she replied in a daze.

"Glass walls. Office hours." Came his low warning.

"Technically, we are past office hours. I'm friends with Marie, you know, the cleaning lady. She gave those glass walls an extra glow this morning, I can guarantee you'll find no germs in it. Now, if you wanna put some germs in it, I have a few ideas about what we could press there. Who. You. could press there. But I should warn you, the dress code suggestion may get a little skimpy."

There was no hidding his smile now, except he wasn't amused. His smile was wicked, smoldering hazel eyes hiding delirious promises. Azriel cleaned her saliva over her cheek, finding her neck.

Knuckles rapped against the glass wall; a melodious voice calling his name. Worse, calling him by a pet name.

"Az." The affectionate sugary tone made Elain grimace. And she wasn't the only one.

One blink and the burning desire in his eyes morphed into anxiety.

"Az?" His face paled. As if he couldn't believe the sound reaching his ears. Elain looked from him to the gorgeous woman in the doorway, checking her from feet to face.

Black stilettos, red strapless jumpsuit and sunglasses greeted her. Manicured red coffin nails clutched a tiny mini purse, beach blonde hair gathered at her nape in a low, elegant, ponytail, once again making Elain feel inadequate in her jeans and tee. Morrigan took her sunglasses off, giving Elain a view of her red swollen eyes.

"Az... Azriel." Her trembling voice calling his full name seemed to wake up Azriel from his trance. He withdrew from Elain completely, turning to Morrigan at last

"Hi." Uncomfortable silence stretched when he didn't greet her back. If Morrigan was saddened by his stiff reaction, she did not let it show. "Can we talk? Please. I really need to speak with you."

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Silent Night

Every year, approaching the winter Solstice, he would make his way to that spot perched high up on the hill overlooking the twinkling lights of Velaris, spread out below like scattered stars.

No winnowing, no wings, no magic. As if the hours long trek to the mountain side they rest within would somehow bring them back.

It never did. But he persisted all the same.

Historically, royal members of the Night Court were laid to rest within the most illustrious crypts deep within the bowels of the Hewn City. Regally laid amongst their coffers of jewels and gold and hoarded riches. But he could never bear the thought of them spending eternity so far beneath the ground, where they wouldn’t be able to glimpse the night sky. Where the infamous Night Court starlight was nothing but murmured legend.

No. they did not belong in those dark, miserable grottos.

Not his mother, who had loved her wings and flown with him for hours upon hours each night she could sneak away. Always chasing the feeling of the breeze in her hair whenever her punitive husband was not paying attention. Not his sister who had loved the city of Velaris, its citizens loving her just as vehemently in return. Even if she had only been granted such preciously short time to do so.

No. They deserved better. They deserved to be under the stars, to be free.

Cresting the final grassy peak, the two onyx tomb stones marking their resting places came into view. A withered wreath of white chrysanthemums lay on his mother’s plaque. He knew Azriel and Cassian occasionally visited this site too. His brothers in everything but blood sporadically coming here to rest a small symbol of their sorrow, their devotion, their gratitude.

Clearing the gravesite of the browned blooms with a flick of his wrist, he fell gingerly to his knees before them. Laid his weary soul on those mountains and stars inked into his skin.

Resting the bouquets of forget-me-nots and calla lilies upon the graves of his mother and sister, the black stone of the simple onyx markers winked back at him.

“I miss you.”

The words croaked from between chapped lips. He always uttered the same greeting, never expecting a response. He would never get a response from either one of them ever again. Their voices only existed in his dreams now, but not even hundreds of years could dim the memories of them.

“Nyx grows stronger every day. He keeps us all busy running after him now. His uncles are already knee deep in his flight training.”

Silence.

“We are well looked after, Azriel and Cassian and I. And Mor.”

Not since his mother had cared for them in Windhaven had he and his brothers been so cherished, so loved. Feyre and her sisters had been a damn blessing. The three Archeron women had saved their pointless, wretched lives when fate had decided to bring them to Velaris. He would be forever grateful. For his mate, for everything that she had given. For what Nesta and Elain had given.

“You would love them all. Both of you…”

From his place kneeling atop that quiet hill, he watched as two stars chased each other across the midnight sky. The clouds parting to make way for those two strokes of iridescent light to playfully make their way across the open heavens.

Rhys peered up into the vast indigo sky, exhaling a breath from deep within his lungs, a small smile crawling up the corners of his mouth.

“Yes, yes, I know. You were always right.”

*******

@feysand-month @unofficialfeysandmonth2022

[bat-boys]

besotted

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: none, just tooth rotting fluff

summary: Rhys and Feyre have asked you to babysit Nyx for the day, meaning you get to spend the whole time enjoying one of your favourite weaknesses: your mate cuddling cute babies.

a/n: thank you so much for the love, it's been so lovely 🫶🏻. this fic is completely self-indulgent - I don't even want children but the thought of handsome men with babies? lord have mercy. My inbox is always open for a chat or fic suggestions /requests. Enjoy loves.

Velaris was truly stunning in every season, every weather, at any time of day, but for you, your favourite time in the city was during the height of summer. When the weather was perfect, the warmth not too stifling, and the evenings cool, the sun glistened on the smooth water of the Sidra, and the air was filled with the soft chattering and laughter of its citizens that lasted well into the evening.

A soft grin played on your lips as you strolled through the streets of the city you had grown up in, the warm breeze gently blowing the gauzy material of your trousers and licking at the stretch of skin exposed at the waist due to the cropped top you wore - the beautiful outfit a gift from your close friend Amren who shared your sense of style. Your confident and sure steps took you past familiar shops, filled to the brim with their exquisite wares as you approached the handful of shops you needed to visit. 

As you neared the first shop you needed to visit, you turned your head slightly when you felt one of those familiar shadows that followed you everywhere. It slipped up your arm and affectionally curled around the skin between where your shoulder met your neck. The darkness cooled your warm skin, causing a soft smile to fall on your lips when you thought of the man to whom they belonged. Since being mated to Azriel, a handful of his shadows were always with you, and you had grown very fond of your own little shadows. According to the spymaster, they had left him on their own accord, feeling as protective of you as their master did. They acted almost as a messenger service between you and your mate. 

"Are you okay, babe? One of your shadows just tapped me on the shoulder." As you entered the small shop, you spoke gently through that sparkling, glimmering thread you shared with your favourite person in the whole wide world. 

"When are you heading back?" His deep, midnight-laced voice slipped into your mind, and you had to hold back the involuntary shudder as you touched one of the children's toys hanging on a rack before you. 

"Why are you missing me already, Az?" Judging by the chuckle you heard that echoed in your head, he could practically hear the teasing smirk in your words. 

"Always, sweetheart." There was a pause, and your eyebrows furrowed. You realized that something was actually amiss, and he wanted you home. "Nyx is fussing, and I don't know what to do."

This time, you chuckled out loud as you grabbed the toy from the rack and took it to the counter at the back of the shop to pay for it. You smiled gently at the shopkeeper, who warmly greeted you.

"He's probably hungry, babe; give him one of those bottles Feyre left. They're in the fridge." Rhys and Feyre had to attend a last-minute meeting today with the Court of Nightmares and Eris from the Autumn Court. They politely asked if you and Azriel could babysit Nyx on short notice. Initially, Azriel had put up a bit of a fuss, arguing that he needed to be there at the meeting, but Rhys had reasoned that Cassian would be there, as would Mor and Amren. Plus, he would show Az everything through his daemati ability. Feyre had sweetened the blow by telling Az you and him were Nyx's favourite aunt and uncle and that they trusted him the most to look after their precious son. 

You had beamed at Azriel's shocked face, winking at Rhys as you had shared in your amusement. Azriel was absolutely besotted with the tiny babe and would protect him with his life if needed. You had no doubt Azriel would immediately sacrifice his life for Nyx, no questions asked. Privately, you had agreed entirely with the idea of you and Azriel protecting Nyx from a security perspective - both of you ready to use your extensive abilities to protect the tiny fae - but also because it meant you could watch Azriel cuddle the baby. In the last couple of months, it had become one of your favourite weaknesses when it came to the shadowsinger. 

"Oh yeah, ok." Relief washed down the bond as he moved towards the kitchen and grabbed the bottle from the fridge, remembering how to warm it and test its temperature. 

"You've babysat Nyx before, Az; you're a natural at this—trust your instincts, babe." You assured him as you passed the money over to the shopkeeper, gave her a warm smile, thanked her, and took the small bag she set on her counter. Wishing her a goodbye, you left the shop and stepped back into the warm streets of Velaris, heading towards the next shop. 

"I've never babysat him before on my own!" You could practically hear the panic in his voice, and you shook your head absentmindedly at his lack of confidence in something he was exceptionally good at. 

"You're his favourite uncle for a reason, Az! I won't be long, promise." 

"Hurry back, sweetheart. I miss you too." A warm caress reached you through the bond, accompanied by the feeling of his shadows sliding up your thigh, the phantom feeling of his hands on your skin causing you to jolt ever so slightly. Wicked little things.

You had been hesitant to leave the Town House, which you and Az now called yours, this afternoon, but with Nyx arriving at such short notice, you needed more time to get some supplies in. You desperately needed some baby stuff and food for both yourself and your mate. You were just exchanging money with the butcher when you felt another frantic pulse through your bond. 

"Babe, he's crying again! He's had the whole bottle." You sent your mate a pulse of affection through his bond, trying to calm him down as you slid the package of food you had just brought into one of your bags. 

"Sweetheart, you need to burp him now." You gently reminded him. 

"Oh shit yeah." You laughed at your mate, drawing some strange looks from passersby, which caused a slight blush to rise on your cheeks. 

"No cursing around the baby!" This time, you felt Azriel's amusement through the bond, a warm beat of laughter that you would spend forever trying to coax from him - his laughter, deep, rich and full, was one of your favourite sounds.

"He can't hear me." He reasoned, his voice now calm now that you had given him a plan of action. He thrived in coordination and planning, able to adapt in times of chaos, but he preferred a detailed and methodical approach to everything. Even in the bedroom. 

As you stepped out of the final shop, your purchases swinging from your hands, your face turned up to catch the afternoon rays as they gently warmed your face, you felt another shadow creep up your arm to practically tap on your shoulder. 

"Fuck, now he's crying so loud I think he might bring the roof down!" Azriel was panicking again, and you could imagine him running his slender fingers through his hair - tuffs of midnight black standing up in a messy array as he started to pace.

"Az, calm down - he needs to sleep." In the Town House, Azriel felt a wave of calm wash over him as he listened to your levelled voice. No hint of irritation or annoyance in your voice. Even after all these years, he still had to fight his instincts that told him you would get tired of him and his pestering, overprotectiveness or panic, but you had been steadfast the entire time. Making sure he felt supported and loved through everything, and he could never be so grateful for the connection you had built together, the love you shared and the life you had crafted with each other. 

"I've tried putting him down, but he screams louder." He sounded tired, and you had to stop yourself from teasing, knowing that wasn't what he needed right now. 

"Pick him up. He probably wants you to cuddle him while he falls asleep." If you were being honest, you couldn't blame Nyx. Nothing, and you mean absolutely nothing, compares to Azriel's cuddles. You always felt so safe, so protected, and so comforted in his arms.

"Ok, yeah, I can do that. Gods, why are you so good at this love." You chuckled at the exasperation in his voice. Azriel must have been so agitated because, through the bond, he sent you images of him gently picking up a crying Nyx, his sweet face red and crumpled as he cried, and holding him to his chest. You tried so hard not to focus on those broad, beautiful, strong, scarred hands as they firmly held Nyx, thoughts of how he had held you last night entering into your mind unbidden and causing you to stumble on the uneven cobblestones of the path you were walking, "Careful love." You felt Az chuckle. 

"Ass." You felt his amusement through the bond and his relief as Nyx began to calm down and snuggled into Azriel. "You're a natural at this, Az, though. I'm nearly home."

"See you soon, love." At the sound of his husky voice, filled with love, you felt your pace pick up as you made your way towards the beautiful home you shared, eager to get home to your waiting mate. 

…

The Town House was quiet and bathed in darkness when you stepped inside. Trying to make as little noise as possible, you carefully set your bags on the entryway floor and slipped your shoes off, the cool wooden floor of the house soothing your hot feet. 

A handful of shadows flew through the air towards you, darting around your body and playfully getting tangled up in your hair and clothes. They whispered at you to be quiet and told you that Azriel and Nyx were in the main living room. 

With a grin on your face, you tip-toed over to the doorway to the living room and leaned against the frame as you took in the heartwarming scene before you. You had to physically stop the tears brimming in your eyes as you gazed at your mate, gently napping on the sofa with a content and fast asleep Nyx resting on his chest, softly snoring in the way only babes can. 

The scene before you was so soft and sweet that you indulged yourself for a moment, picturing your own child fast asleep on your mate's strong chest. You stared for a while, marvelling at the beauty of Azriel. His strong arms were exposed due to his sleeveless top, his Illyrian tattoos proudly swirling around his dark skin - arms you know would hold you close in the dead of night, keep you standing when you were weak and protect you until the ends of the earth. His soft, slightly curled, midnight hair gently fell on his proud forehead, making him look almost boyish and not the formidable man he presented to the rest of the world. His soft, full lips that were parted slightly in sleep. His strong jaw and proud nose, his sculpted body and thick thighs. He truly was heaven-sent.  

"I can feel you staring." He mumbled through the bond, and you had to stifle a soft laugh. Of course, Azriel wouldn't be entirely asleep - he rarely was; at least some part of him was always awake and alert. You think the only times Az had ever wholly given in to peaceful sleep was those precious weeks after you had accepted your mating bond when he was so tired and content to be next to you and holding you close that he couldn't resist falling into a deep slumber. But only after he had made sure the wards protecting the secluded cabin were still secure, ever the spymaster. 

You pushed away from the doorframe and padded towards where your mate was sitting. He opened his eyes slightly, still sleepy from his brief nap, and his lips curled into a warm smile as you approached. 

"Hi, love." You whispered as you bent over the back of the sofa to grip his face and press your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Kissing Az was something you would never get over, even after decades together. The feel of his plush but slightly chapped lips against yours, his delicious taste and scent enveloping your senses, had your toes curling against the cold wooden floor. 

"I'm so glad you're back." You beamed at him as you stared at his upside-down face, gently stroking his jaw and feeling the slight stubble against the soft skin of your hands. 

"Seems like you've got it handled," you teased as you turned your attention to the sleeping child on Azriel's chest. You reached out a hand to gently brush Nyx's soft hair off his forehead, desperately holding in the coo that threatened to leave your lips as he let out a soft sigh and nestled further into Az's chest. Who could blame him, you thought? You had the exact same favourite sleeping position. 

"You're definitely better at this than me," he mumbled as you skirted around the sofa to sit beside your mate. He ever so slowly and ever so gently shifted so as not to wake Nyx so you could tuck yourself into his side. His arm curled around your shoulders to bring you closer, planting a gentle kiss on your temple. 

"How long has Nyx been asleep?" you whispered as you snuggled closer to your mate, hand reaching out to gently stroke up and down Nyx's back in a soothing manner you knew he liked.

"About 20 minutes." You hummed, proud of Azriel for handling the situation. He had been so nervous around the babe when he was first born—so conscious of the tiny, breakable fae he now felt some reasonability for.

"I'd say you've had it completely covered, babe." Nyx stirred ever so slightly, and you knew from experience that you had exactly 5 minutes before he woke up and was agitated again due to not sleeping enough. 

A soft hum filled the quiet air as you got up and gently took the sleeping child from Azriel, whispering soothing noises. He stirred slightly as you manoeuvred him into your arms. You bounced ever so slightly on your toes, continuing to hum a lullaby you had heard Feyre singing to him the other day as you walked over to the travelling crib Azriel had set up next to the sofa. Ever so gently, you lowered Nyx into the plush mattress, stroking a finger down his cheeks in a way you knew he liked as you watched him settle back to sleep. 

Azriel just sat back, arms spread out on the back of the sofa behind him, as he watched you so expertly soothe Nyx. He could practically feel his eyes turning into hearts as he watched you, almost unable to control the all-consuming feeling of love that was threatening to spill from him. He loved you so much and had done so for hundreds of years, but in recent months, watching you become so enamoured by your nephew, a new tentative love grew. 

You turned around, and Azriel offered you one of his sweet smiles before holding out an outstretched hand and silently bidding you to return to his side. With a matching grin, you took his hand and let him pull you in beside him before shifting you both, so you were lying down on the sofa, both facing Nyx as Azriel wound his arms around you to pull you flush against his chest. 

A feeling of absolute contentment flooded Azriel as you lay there, breathing in your sweet scent and kissing your soft hair. You shifted closer to him, fingers stroking over his hands wrapped around your waist, holding you close. Mirroring smiles danced on your lips as you watched your nephew and enjoyed the comfortable silence that had settled over the Town House.

"I love seeing you with Nyx Az." You whispered into the soft silence, and you felt a pulse of utter adoration through the thread you both shared. 

"Hmmm, do you, love?" He mumbled into your hair, an ear-splitting grin stretching on his lips. He was unable to deny that primal part of him that basked in the glow of your words—that you had admitted enjoying seeing him with children. 

"It's my ultimate weakness." He chuckled softly. 

"Seeing you with him is mine, too," he confessed back, his arms loosening as you turned around to face him. For a minute, you just looked at him, eyes drinking in his handsome face, flitting over his lips and his nose before settling on his hazel eyes, which were gazing at you with such emotion that a lump formed at the back of your throat. 

Slowly, lazily, you brought your hand up to trace the features of his face before gently pushing a soft curl of his hair that had fallen over his forehead. The ring he had gifted you nearly 60 years ago glinted in the dim light. 

"Have you ever considered it?" You whispered shyly. It wasn't a topic you had discussed with Azriel much; there simply hadn't been enough time. Shortly after the bond had snapped for the both of you - after years of pining and yearning for each other - Rhys had gone under the mountain. You had spent those long years trying to hold everyone together, and then Rhys had returned, and you had been focused on bringing him and Feyre back from that dark place where they had found themselves. Then, the devastating war you had all been plunged into. It had not been an environment you could ever bring a child into. 

"What?" He knew what you meant, but he wanted to hear the words come from your lips. 

"Having children of our own?" The words felt fragile between you. Deep down, you knew you were both on the same page, but still, this was not a conversation you had had before. The soft smile dancing on Az's lips soothed you, however, as he, too, brought his hand up to delicately trace your features. 

"I didn't think I would ever get the opportunity to be a father, certainly didn't think I would be a good one. But seeing you with Nyx these last couple of months…yeah, I have." His confession was soft, and you couldn't help yourself as you closed that small distance between you two to press your lips to his in a kiss that held a promise and contained all of the love you could ever feel for the male. His arms wrapped tightly around you again as he held you close and lost himself in the delicious feeling of your lips on his. 

You broke away gently, slowly, languidly, eyes still closed as you leaned in to press short kisses to his lips. Resting your forehead against his, you stayed there, breathing him in, hands softly caressing his face. "You will be such a good dad, Az. You will be patient, kind and considerate. Fun when you want to be, firm when you need to be, and comforting when they're sad or frustrated. I've thought about it too." You made sure you delivered the words whilst looking him in the eyes, conveying just how much you meant the words.

"Yeah?" His voice was hoarse, and you spotted tears brimming in his beautiful eyes, your heart breaking in your chest at the fact that he had so desperately needed to hear the words. You leaned in to kiss his lips again, hand resting on his chest to feel his thundering heart as he breathed in a shaky breath. 

"I don't think I'm ready just yet. I still want to experience life with you," you whispered, an amused smirk playing on your lips. You hadn't had enough time with Az yet. There was still so much of the world to see, so many things you wanted to explore with just your mate before you put down roots and grew a beautiful family of your own. 

"I feel the same." He reassured, pulling you closer again, desperate to make sure not a single inch of space was between you two. 

"But when the time is right, when we are ready. It would bring me nothing but joy to have children together." A stunning smile you had not seen before stretched across Azriel's face, and you gasped at the powerful pulse that reverberated down the bond from your mate. It was pure light—beautiful, gleaming light—such happiness radiating from between you two that you imagined both of your skins glowing with it. 

"I love you so much, Y/N." He said reverently. 

"I love you too." The distance between your lips closed again as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, tilting your head slightly to deepen in - determined to convey just how much you love him, how thankful you are to the Mother and the Cauldron for giving you, Azriel as your mate. You felt him moan softly as you slipped your tongue past the seam of his lips, gently licking into his mouth as you swallowed the soft sounds you were both making. You pulled away with a mischievous grin dancing on your lips, "Gods, our kids would be cute."

"Do you think so?" He asked, pushing your hair behind your pointed ears so he could see your face clearly.

"What, you don't?" You asked in mock shock and horror, causing another chuckle to rumble through his chest. 

"As long as they take after you, sweetheart, they will be the cutest children Prythian has ever seen." You laughed at him, but secretly, you hoped they looked nothing like you and took after the incredible man you had been mated to for all of these years—that they had his kind eyes, gentle smile, and luxurious locks of soft midnight hair.

"I can't wait." You whispered as you laid your head down beside him, nuzzling into his neck and breathing in his scent of mist and cedar, the smell of home. 

"Neither can I, my love." He whispered back to you as he held you close, kissing your hairline and temple. You both let your heavy eyelids droop as your limbs tangled on the sofa. Nyx continued to sleep softly beside you. One day soon, it would be your child in that crib, you promised yourself and Az through that golden thread deep in your heart before you both fell peacefully asleep. 

[rwbythroughtheyears]

Rwby Weapons - Part 1, Part 2