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[welcometotheshitshxw]

All Over Again

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're drunk. Your mate is trying to get you home. Only problem is—you're really, really drunk.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: Drinking, absolutely zero attempt to establish a pov on my part

a/n: A cute little drabble because if it all fell is making me a tiny bit sad and I love this trope <3

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

The world spun around you as you let out a delighted laugh, faerie wine pulsing in your veins. This was bliss, and—admittedly—the most fun you’d had in months. The workload you’d been dealt this last year was one for the books. 

“Exactly how many drinks did you have?” Feyre asked you, red and green rays lighting up her face in time with the beat inside Rita’s. 

“So many,” you yelled back, flinging your arms around her shoulders. “So many and I’m going to have more!” 

The High Lady chuckled and swayed with you as you dragged her around the dancefloor. 

This was good for you, your friends had decided, a girl’s night where you could let go of all your responsibilities and inhibitions and then sleep for a solid two days afterward. Feyre and Mor had agreed to stay relatively sober to watch over you, but Mor was just as intoxicated as you were at this point.

“Mor!” you screamed, the shout directed fully into Feyre’s ear. She flinched, but you just continued. “Mor, come here! We can all dance together!” 

The blonde was pulled into the circle of fae, but very little “dancing” took place. You were far past the level of functional inebriation. 

“We should get Azriel,” Feyre shouted over your head, trying to catch the attention of her very distracted friend. 

But Mor just laughed and asked, “Who the hell is that?” as she left the pair to join a woman in a dazzling purple dress at the bar. 

Feyre bit back a sigh, still feeling patient with the small amount of alcohol running through her. “We should go home, yeah?” she attempted, catching your clutch as it tumbled out of your hands. 

You responded with a loud, “Woo!” and Feyre knew she needed to call in reinforcements. A quick outstretch of her mind and the request was sent. 

“This is so much fun!” Your smile was infectious, Feyre replicating it unconsciously as she watched you jump around. “I love you!” you screamed at her—again, directly into her ear. 

It was a few short minutes before Azriel’s presence was felt inside the overcrowded pleasure hall. Small streams of black shadows had begun to slink around your shoulders and arms with you none the wiser to their arrival. Feyre smirked when you jumped at a hand on your back. 

“Hello, my love,” Azriel said, voice low as he bent over to relay the words. “Having fun?” 

Your responding screech had panic flashing across the spymaster’s face, the man simply watching as you threw yourself against Feyre’s chest. He sent a tentative hand out in your direction, but you only pressed further into your friend. 

“Y/n—” Azriel began. 

“I’m married,” you seethed. “I have a mate,” you doubled down. 

Azriel blinked. 

He looked around him, checking behind his tightly coiled wings and past the broad expanse of his shoulders. 

When no other fae appeared to be lurking near his mate, Azriel returned his attention to the pair in front of him, his hazel eyes meeting your piercing (but rather hazy) glare. 

“Y/n, I am… well aware that you have a mate,” he replied, shaking his head to match his slow words. 

You scoffed, sending Feyre a glance as if to say, “Can you believe this guy?” 

“Well, then you should be well aware—” A shaky, misguided finger pointed close to where Azriel was standing “—that I am not interested in you. Got that?” 

A smile paired with furrowed brows conveyed the vast array of Azriel’s current feelings. He watched as you sent him another scathing glare and turned back to your High Lady, noticing the uneven way you stood and the handful of your belongings being managed by your friend. 

“She’s had a lot to drink,” Feyre emphasized. “I’ve been trying to get her to go home but she won’t budge. I thought you’d be able to persuade her. She’s been talking about you nonstop.” 

You were maneuvered into a quieter hallway as Feyre recounted your adventures of the night, making sure to catalog each drink she saw you consume. Azriel fought back a grimace as he pictured you in the morning. You had the worst hangovers. 

“Y/n,” Feyre began, offering you an encouraging smile as you blearily blinked at her words. “Azriel’s here. Do you want to see him? He said he’d bring you home with him.” 

This time, you gasped, face betraying you as it heated with embarrassment. “You called Azriel here?” 

“Mhm, and he said he’s terribly exhausted and needs you to come home for the night.” 

You gaped. “He wants me to come home with him?” 

Standing at your back, Azriel felt his expression pucker in confusion. Hadn’t you just chastised him for flirting with you, a married woman? A married woman who was married to him? 

Feyre seemed to agree with that sentiment as she nodded and said, “Of course he does. He always wants you with him.” 

Your eyes grew wide, hands reaching out to grip Feyre’s shoulders in a serious motion. “Did you tell him?” you panicked. “Fey, you promised you wouldn’t tell him. It could ruin everything.” 

Azriel was suddenly catapulted back about 20 years to when you were too nervous to tell him you were in love with him and Azriel was too much of an idiot to tell you that you were his mate. But that time had passed, thankfully, long ago. The two of you were now very much in love, both mated and married shortly after the inner circle had meddled in your affairs. 

Looking past his disorientation, Azriel caught your wide, pleading gaze directed at Feye. 

“Y/n?” he asked, craning his neck to catch your eyes. When you slowly turned in mortification, a soft kind of adoration pulled at his chest. “Hey,” he smiled. “I’m going to take you home, alright?” 

“O-Okay,” you blushed, taking his outstretched hand in your own. “To my apartment?” 

“No, I thought we’d go to mine. That alright?” he asked, voice gravelly and low and echoing off the long hallway inside Rita’s. 

It didn't matter that you were actually going to his house. The one the two of you shared. 

Instinctually, Azriel grabbed your hand, twinning his fingers with yours and pulling you closer. You, however, so drunk that you were unsure of your current whereabouts or today's date, let out a shaky breath at the intimacy. Azriel felt your fingers tremble between his own. 

“Is this okay?” he found himself asking. 

You nodded jerkily, and Azriel relished in the feeling of falling in love with you all over again. It was an immensely better experience than you pushing him away and accusing him of preying on married women. 

His married woman, but that was beside the point. 

A few steps in silence. You shivered with the rush of cool air outside the pleasure hall. Azriel shifted his wings out, enveloping you in their warmth. 

“Um,” you began, fiddling with his fingers as they rested beside yours. “It’s really nice of you to walk me home.” 

His heart was going to burst. Seeing you, his mate, so shy and reserved and hopelessly enamored by him in such a public way was endlessly endearing. 

“Of course. I would never let you walk home alone,” he replied evenly. And then, to spice things up, he added, “I told you I would always protect you. I meant that.” 

“You said th—” 

You whipped your head to the side as you spoke, losing your balance with the alcohol coursing through you. Your feet fumbled over each other and Azriel caught your hip to deter you from making a full-on beeline for the ground. After he was sure you were not going to plummet to your death, he tucked your hair back from your face. 

“You are my mate,” he said, so assuredly. It was a truth ingrained within him. “I will always walk you home.” 

Your eyes went wide, fingers wrapped tightly around his arms as he held you. You held eye contact with your mate, a feat in and of itself with the state of your head, and he watched as your tongue came out to wet your lips. 

And then, just because he could—because you were his and because you probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning—he whispered, “I love you.” 

The sharp intake of breath that followed his words was apparently too much for your alcohol-addled brain. You let out a small squeak, blinked at him several times, and then, you fainted. Directly into your mate's arms. 

Azriel carried you home (the one you two shared, to clarify yet again), silently laughing to himself, feeling quite smug at the outcome that night. 20 years and he still felt the same. 20 years and he was still in disbelief that he got to walk you home. 

[welcometotheshitshxw]

Friday Feyre & Nyx!

[welcometotheshitshxw]

Stormy Night in the Library

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Summary: Cozy, stormy Night Court reading night

Vibe: fluffy fluffy fluffy (Apparently I’m in an Azriel mood so enjoy!)

Warnings: None? If there should be any, let me know!

The book was… incredible. Emerie was right, the gentle adventure was exactly what you wanted for a night like tonight. With the thunder cracking outside and rain pelting against the window, there was nothing better than the roaring fire, a warm blanket, and a good book.

The only improvement that could be made would be having your mate sprawled in your lap on the couch, but he hadn’t made it home before the storm hit. Despite his promise he would be home for dinner, there wasn’t anything he could do about the weather. You had asked the House to keep his plate warm when he hadn’t arrived for dinner with you, Nesta, and Cassian, and you were sure it was still waiting for him, along with a note telling him exactly where you would be waiting.

A few chapters later, you heard the door swing open, and then shut again.

“Sweetheart,” Azriel murmured, bending down to kiss your forehead.

“Welcome home,” you said, reaching up to brush his wet hair out of his face. “You made it okay?”

He grumbled. “I need to warm up, but I’m fine.” 

“Please tell me you ate your dinner.”

“Of course I ate dinner. That stew is my favorite, and if I hadn’t you would have dragged me back out there where it is cold. May I?” He holds the corner of your blanket up with a quirked eyebrow. 

“Yes,” you laugh, “but no funny business- I’m in the last chapters of this book and I want to know what happens.”

Before you’re even finished speaking, Azriel has knelt between your knees and then stretched out, his legs sprawling off the end of the couch and his head in the crook of your neck. His wings stretch over the back of the couch on one side, and to the floor on the other, creating a little tent of warmth for you both. 

“Hmm,” he kisses you gently. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

You kiss the top of his head. “You’re welcome, love.”

The storm slows, and for a while, the only sounds are the gentle exhales of Azriel’s breath, the turning of pages, and the roar of the fire. The main character has made a dumb decision- she’s trusting the character with the most dubious intentions instead of her best companion, and she doesn’t even recognize any of the tells which the author spells out. Your quick gasp draws a flutter from Azriel’s dozing eyelids, so you poke him in the cheek.

“Az.”

“Hmm…” he responds.

“Should we go to bed?”

“Bed?” he slurs sleepily. 

“Yes, Az. Bed. Sleep.”

He jolts suddenly, causing you to drop your book.

“I’m sorry,” he reaches to the ground, picking up your book where it fell. “Here.”

You chuckle. “You’re so tired, Az. Why don’t we go to bed?”

“It’s just so cozy right-” he kisses your chin, your jaw, the hollow of your throat- “here. What do you say we make a night out of it?”

“How?”

“I’ll go grab my book and some snacks. We’ll make a whole night out of this storm.”

“Perfect,” you smile at him, his eyes filled with light and the slightest hint of joyous mischief.

“I’ll be right back,” he leaps up, making sure to tuck your blanket back around you before jogging out of the room. You shake your head, laughing under your breath at your handsome mate. He quickly returns, bounding into the room and kicking the door shut again behind him. His arms overflow with two books, one from your bedside table and one from his, and a couple pastries and treats from the kitchen.

“Here we are. Brought you your next book, since you’re almost done with that one,” he smiles, settling it all on the coffee table. He offers you a pastry, and your next book. You take them, tucking the book between your body and the couch back, and biting into the snack. 

The chocolate filling of the flaky pastry fills your mouth, and you hum, letting your eyes slip closed.

He snorts, lifting the blanket again to rejoin you in its warmth. “Should I leave?” he quips. 

“Ha-ha,” you snark in return. “Only if you want to keep your hair intact.”

Azriel mocks offense, his low laughter quickly following to join with yours. “You love my hair too much to do anything to it.”

“Of course I do. Just like I love all of you,” you kiss him gently, slipping the hand which doesn’t have chocolate on it around the back of his neck. 

He chuckles into your lips, kissing you back gently before sighing contentedly. 

“How’s your book?”

You smile, showing him how far you’ve gotten, even since he had gotten home. “I’m nearly finished. It’s good- but I think the author’s left it on a cliffhanger, and the next one won’t come out for a while which will be a hard wait.” 

“Oh no. Well, at least you have a whole library to choose from.”

“The only thing to mend my broken heart,” you tease. 

He presses another kiss to your lips, grinning. “The only thing.”

“The best thing,” you giggle. His grin widens to a full smile.

“Well, at least I know where your priorities lie. When you’ve finished with the only real remedy for your heart, come home to me?”

“Always,” you smile, bending to kiss him again.

As you both return to your books, the storm picks up once again, rumbling with thunder. You finish the first book, which Az takes from you and places on the table, hardly looking away from his own book. Instead of grabbing your next book, you take a few moments to admire him. These are your favorite moments- together, and yet in your own little worlds. His face twists with obvious reactions, the only time he’s unguarded when he’s engaged in the escapism of a good book. You admire the way the firelight’s flickering reflects in his dark hair, twining the ends between your fingers. 

Eventually you both slip into sleep, Az’s hair twined between your fingers, his arms around your waist, and an open book on the floor beside the couch. The fire crackles on, a complement to the thunder and pelting rain. Cozy against the cold, you and Azriel sleep peacefully, the joy of simple togetherness being entirely unmatched, content in each other's arms.

[welcometotheshitshxw]

Cassian: *carefully going around the victim’s body with chalk*

Detective: We don’t usually outline the balls

Cassian: Oh I’m not a cop lol

Azriel (from a distance): CASSIAN GET THE FUCK OUT OF THERE

[welcometotheshitshxw]

Summer Court Store Worker: Would "Rhysand" please come to the front desk?

Rhys, arriving at the desk: Hello, is there a problem?

Store worker, pointing to Azriel & Cassian: I believe they belong to you?

Azriel & Cassian, simultaneously: We got lost

Rhys: I didn't even bring you guys here with me-

[welcometotheshitshxw]

finally.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader, Nessian (platonic) x reader, fluff

Word Count: 3.5K

Warnings: Pregnancy reveal, mentions of infertility/struggles falling pregnant, symptoms of pregnancy.

Summary: After years of trying and learning to let go, you are finally gifted your beautiful baby miracle miracles.

Wings Universe

“Gods you really are looking radiant today, Flower!” Elodie beamed, nudging you gently with her shoulder. 

The sun was bright among the wild blossoms, sunlight filtering down to touch your skin with a feverish kiss. The season was slowly shifting from Spring to Summer. Plants were growing larger, petals spreading wider, the pollen in the air stronger. There was a buzz among the land of the Night Court, as nature geared itself for this transformation. You had felt the change in temperature, noticed how the rays licked your skin. Leaving yourself and your friends glowing, sunkissed, glimmering from working in the meadows all day. 

But radiant? That was not the word you would use.

Elodie’s compliment had your brows furrowing gently, bringing your dirt covered hand to wipe the bead of sweat that threatened to roll down your cheek. You weren’t sure how to take the compliment. It described the opposite of everything you were feeling.

Perhaps bloated, and sluggish was more accurate. Out of sorts? You couldn’t quite figure out why, there had been no changes to your routine. Yet everything about you felt, well, just different.

Even Azriel had noticed some subtle changes. Ever the Spymaster noticed everything, especially about his precious mate. Or so he thought. He had mentioned the other day that your scent was sweeter than usual. The typical tones of vanilla and honey were weaved in with a hint of something else he couldn’t quite decipher. Azriel had taken it upon himself to touch every inch of your skin to uncover what, only to come to no answer. 

That had been a long night. A night of caresses and grazes. Not that you were complaining.

Glancing down at your fingers spread within the cool damp soil of the meadows, they flexed under the sponginess of the dirt. You could feel the vitality pulse beneath your fingertips before pulling them out. Glancing upon the skin that hadn’t been touched by dirt yet. Radiant? Perhaps. You always had a glow to you, all fairies did. That unexplainable aura that lit up any room. But maybe just maybe, you had been shining a little brighter. 

Maybe.

Casting a fertilising charm within the ground had been today’s task. Along with your usual working group you had headed to the meadows and woodlands on the outskirts of the Night Court. This particular part of your job, the more physical aspect, was one you usually relished in. The ache of your muscles and bones at the end of a hard day of graft, usually, gave you some kind of instant gratification. But fatigue was plaguing you.

You had been sleeping more than usual. Being a Fairy meant you were always rose with that hot shining beacon in the sky, but there had been numerous mornings recently where Azriel had to coax you from your slumber. The sunshine no longer acting as your alarm. Azriel would rouse you with whispered compliments and gentle kisses. Sometimes, his shadows would stir you too, brushing your skin with their cooling touch.

There had even been times when Azriel had let you sleep in. Never a working day of course. Gods be damned, Azriel knew better than that. A day missed at the meadow was the end of the world. Or at least your world. Azriel learnt in the early years of friendship that you took your duty very seriously. So on the days where he knew you had nowhere to be– nowhere other than his arms. He let you sleep.

“Honestly y/n you have this glow about you…” Elodie continued, turning fully to you now her own hands pulling out of the soil. She gently brushed them down her honey coloured dress, her apron picking up the soil as she wiped them. The sun cast a gentle glow across her deep skin, golden eyes glinting with curiosity. A curiosity you wanted to question but before you could, the call for lunch was bellowed across the meadow. 

Food wrapped in little gingham cloths were passed round, a parcel finding its way to your lap. You were starving you realised, as your tummy made a small groaning noise. Hastily you unravelled the packed lunch, the sweet recognisable scent filling the air around you, a smile spreading on your plump lips at today’s choice.

Cake and jam. Your favourite.

The little parcel was packed with nuts, berries, and veggies. But your sweet tooth had your fingers itching to pick up the sponge cake. Licking your lips gently, you brought the sweet slice, covered in a slab of strawberry jam to your lips. Taking a bite of your favourite sweet treat. 

Only it wasn’t sweet.

Instantly you gagged.

The chewed up cake quickly came rolling out of your mouth as you discreetly caught it in your hand.

“Is the food off?” Elodie hushed quietly, turning to you as she inspected your lunch. 

Your group always took turns bringing in food for the day. And you truly couldn’t knock your friends baking. Perhaps a little stereotypical, but fairies were very domestic. Not only great with plants and gardening, but also sewing, crafting, and of course baking. Gus in particular, whose cake you had just spat out was probably the best baker of all the Hollow. 

Shaking your head quickly, you secretly hid the chewed up cake underneath your berries. Your tongue swilling the metallic taste the cake had filled your mouth with. You couldn’t bear Gus finding out you’d spat out his food. The poor male would be heartbroken. 

“No, no it isn’t. It’s fine I promise. I don’t know what came over me,” you hurried out a whisper. “I’ve been feeling a little off recently. Maybe I’m under the weather.”

Placing her lunch to the side, your friend looked at you with her deep warm eyes, concerned etched into her brows as she gently pressed the back of her hand on your forehead.

Chewing your lip you let your friend examine you. “You don’t have a temperature…” she muttered, more to herself than to you as she began to fuss.

Leaning closer then, her hands clasped around your cheeks. Her grip was slightly firm as your lips were squished into a pout. She didn’t notice though, not as her eyes began to quickly flicker over every line and curve of your face. Her meticulous scrutiny not letting up. A glimmer of something winked across her face, catching her off guard if only for a second before her brows furrowed.

Then she began to sniff you.

“El, what are you doing?” You asked, tone annoyed and bashful, as you swatted her looming face away lightly. She was naturally quite a tactile fairy, but even this was a bit much for her. 

Elodie had sat back now, her eyes widening. It was as though you could see in her eyes the pieces falling into place, but for a puzzle you weren't aware of.

“Thank the Mother,” she whispered, her lips stretching to a smile, before she clasped your hand pulling you away from the group.

“El?” You were annoyed now. Your fingers were flexing at your sides, as she had pulled you into a field filled with tulips. The pink and orange hues swayed gently in the breeze, as an uneasiness began to roll over you. 

“It all makes sense now. How you were so emotional when you saw those baby hedgehogs the other day–”

Shaking your head, you lifted your hands in confusion. You didn’t understand.

“Your scent, your glow…your wings!”

There was an uncomfortable rising feeling under your skin at the signs your friend began to mention, the symptoms you knew all too well that were rolling off her tongue. You knew them so well because for a period of time you had analysed every part of yourself hoping to see these aspects, only to not ever see a glimmer.

It couldn’t be?

Quickly glancing over your shoulder, you squinted to take a hard look at your wings. Furling the iridescent membranes closer to you, as you examined the very appendages your friend was peering so intently at.

There was nothing really different…except maybe there was. You squinted harder.

The tips. 

They’d turned a darker pink.

Your heart was in your throat, an audible gasp leaving your lips as you turned to get a closer look. Spinning in a circle, round and round. Only to find the exact thing Elodie had noticed.

“Wait, Elodie. No, it can’t be?” your lip quivered as realisation began to sink in.

You and Azriel had decided two years ago that you wanted to expand your family. Especially seeing your loved ones with their own growing families. Feyre and Rhys had Nyx and Selene. And of course, Nesta and Cassian recently had their little Athena.

Over the years you had tried everything, taking tonics, eating certain foods, you had even scheduled a very meticulous conceiving plan. But nothing worked. There had been numerous appointments with Madja, and even the healers and midwives of the Hollow. But everything you did was futile. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t fall pregnant.

There was a period of time your mind tore you apart. Speculating and obsessively analysing the possibilities of why you couldn’t conceive. That perhaps it was you and Azriel that weren’t compatible. Biologically. That the Mother had made a mistake with you. That maybe things would have been different if you were Illyrian, not ‘lesser’ fae. That your own body was not strong enough to nurture his offspring. Defective somehow.

That duration of your life had been hard, and even harder to move on from. But with time, and endless love and support from your mate you eventually let go of that dream.

But now, that slither of hope was growing brighter than the summer sun beaming down on you.

Eloide, your longest friend. Had her hands clasped around yours. Her own eyes filled with a watery brim, mirroring your own.

She nodded with a smile.

You were pregnant.

𓇢𓆸

Azriel stood darkly behind his High Lord who was seated casually at the head of the meeting. Azriel was positioned on the left, Cassian on the right. The perfect guards to the Night Court. The large obsidian table stretched across the room. High Lords littered down the long ornate slab, all wearing the colours of their respective court. A few of Rhys’ closest alliances had joined for this gathering, discussing borders and peace treaties.

The meeting had begun in the morning, and by the stacks of documents officials were passing round it didn’t seem to be letting up anytime soon.

Azriel was focused, stood clad in his Illyrian leathers, blue syphons gleaming as the muscles in his jaw flexed. Despite this being an era of peace, with so many High Lord’s and emissaires in the room he was on high alert. His shadows gently grazed along the floor of the room as Azriel stayed attuned to the room's conversation.

One of his shadows seemed restless though, vibrating slightly behind his wing before curling up to his ear. Revealing nothing but nervous energy. 

With a subtle jolt, Azriels wings unfurled slightly as he felt a small ripple down the bond. It was skittish and nervous, unease seeping from you down the thread.

Cassian gave Azriel a sideways glance, an unspoken question if everything was okay. But Azriel only stood straighter for his answer, reclaiming his composure as he sent a gentle vibration down the warm glowing bond.

Is everything okay, my love?

You were quite a passionate soul, an empath. Oftentimes, involuntarily, Azriel would feel all types of emotion spill down the bond. It was one of the reasons he loved you, a quality he found endearing. How open to love you were, how you felt the sorrow and joy of others wholeheartedly. But this uneasiness left him unsettled.

Azriel was only met with silence on your end. Spurring him to send another ripple. His shadows started to become more restless, spreading and striking behind his wings subtly, as if displaying the uneasiness of their master or perhaps they were twitching out of eagerness for something else– for someone else.

Azriel was usually quite a composed male, cool and collected was the blueprint of his facade. Yet, when it came to you and your welfare, any patience went quickly out the window.

He was about to send one of his shadowy tendrils to look for you, to check you were okay in the meadows. Also on the verge of sending another question down the bond. Only for the large oak doors to swing open with a force that flushed the room with a gust of wind.

You.

It was you, his beautiful shining mate. 

A very beautiful dishevelled mate, however.

You were flushed, cheeks hot and rosy as you stumbled into the large meeting room. Your lovely pink dress was covered in soil, the lacy strap hanging off your shoulder. The flowers you’d braided into your hair that morning were hanging limp only by a few strands. Pink hues of light flickered across the room, as it became obvious to everyone your beautiful wings were unfurled behind you.

There had been no stopping you once you’d got your confirmation, you had flown urgently to River House. Storming through the hallways with a haste one wouldn’t usually associated with such a delicate fairy.

But you needed him. You needed your mate.

You needed Azriel, and no meeting, no court officials or High Lords were going to stop you.

Your eyes instantly found those hazel beacons, eyes locked in on your handsome shadow of a lover. If you weren’t so encaptured by him, you may have noticed the panicked scrape of Rhys’ chair as he stood in concern, or how Cassian left his post towards you. Hand twitching by his sword, ready to strike at any recognition of the danger that must have caused this display by you.

If you’d been listening you might have noticed how the room had fallen quickly into a silence, all heads snapping to you. Momentarily, eyes glazing over the iridescent lights that were now reflecting off your wings.

A very rare sight.

“What a beauty…” someone purred, although you didn’t hear them.

Azriel was beside you in mere seconds, his shadows consuming you protectively moving you slightly into the pocket realm. The tendrils coiled on the corners of your vision so you could only see Azriel, who tenderly had a hand pressed against your jaw, thumb gently grazing the dirt spread on your face. His other arm protectively wrapped around you pulling you close.

Something must have happened Azriel concluded. Fear seeped into his mind as he began to imagine the worst.

Your energy, the vulnerable look in your eyes and tousled appearance had Azriel reeling. Itching to figure out what had caused this. Had a danger broken into the court? Had his shadows missed something? Were you hurt?

“My love, what is it? What’s wrong?” there was an urgency in his tone.

You shook your head, tears rolling down your cheeks. Azriel was confused. You were in a state of disarray, but he could feel nothing of the sort through the bond. Instead there was an overwhelming feeling of joy and love rippling through.

“There is nothing wrong, love…finally everything is right,” you cried through your smile.

These were not Azriel’s choice of words, but later on when Cassian and Rhys relayed the scenario to the rest of the family they said you looked a little mad. Deranged even. Your tangled appearance and abrupt entrance was unlike anything they’d seen from you.

Azriel was quick to move you from here, his shadows engulfing you both as they transported you to a small lounge in the house. He wanted you away from prying eyes, and needed to check you were safe. That you weren’t hurt. His hands were still cupped around your face as he began to inspect you carefully. His eyes analysing your expression, shadows circling around your ankles to check for anything that might explain your distress– no it wasn’t distress, it wasn’t madness, it was joy.

“Breathe my little butterfly, what’s got you so worked up that you barged into a High Lord’s meeting?” Azriel cooed, his expression softening as he recognised the vulnerability in your eyes. Large scarred hands lightly brushed your unrurly hair, his fingers delicately bringing the dress strap back over your shoulder as he tried to soothe you with his touch.

“Everything is finally right Azriel,'' you whispered, repeating the words from earlier. For a moment Azriel couldn’t understand. The disarray, the vulnerability, the uneasiness. How could everything finally be right?

But then he felt it, the rippling down the bond. That unconditional love again, joy, delight…but also relief. Relief that something had finally happened. Something you had both been waiting, praying and dreaming of.

The Shadowsinger tilted his head, his hands dropping from your face, not daring to breathe the words himself as the emotions he felt began to paint a vivid picture.

“I’m pregnant.”

In that moment Azriel crashed down onto his knees, an overwhelming sensation consuming him as he digested the truth you spoke. It was as if at that moment, everything slowly slotted into place. The clues he hadn’t even known were clues sung to him. Your scent, your temperament and emotions, your wings. Everything he had acknowledged subconsciously, had been tucked away in his mind because he couldn’t phantom the possibility– the possibility of being wrong. Getting your hopes up.

His hands softly came to your hips, drawing you closer as he rested his forehead against your stomach.

“We’re having a baby?” Azriel’s voice broke, the words barely audible.

“Babies.” You whispered back.

𓇢𓆸

Cassian had been pacing back and forth outside the lounge for well over an hour now. He’d desperately called down the bond to Nesta, who had arrived in a hurry with their little Athena in her arms. His reaction may have been slightly over dramatic. But Cassian assured her that if Nesta had seen the state you’d run into the meeting room earlier, she would be behaving the same way.

Nesta didn’t really believe him, her mate had a way of being quite theatrical in situations.

There had been no danger, Azriel had spoken into Rhys mind and it had been passed onto Cassian. So Cassian spent the time speculating on what could have brought such an uncharacteristically reaction from you. He’d seen you when things didn’t go the plan in the meadows and assumed something at work must have gone array.

Nesta sat lazily in a chair outside the lounge, book in hand. Every now and then, glancing up at her mate who was wearing a mark in the stone floor from his pacing. Cassian held his little baby while he patrolled outside the room, whispering theories on what possibly could have happened to Auntie y/n.

“I don’t know Thena…maybe the ladybirds lost their spots again?” He mused, recalling a previous drama you had shared with him once, that had sent you a little haywire last year.

“All spots are accounted for,” your voice sang. Cassian hadn’t even noticed you and Azriel had stepped out of the room.

“Sorry brother I didn’t know you were waiting for us” Azriel smiled softly, giving his brother’s shoulder a gentle squeeze.

Cassian’s expression softened, as Nesta came to his side. Her arm looping around his free side while she kissed her little babe on the head. “Is everything okay though?” Cassian asked, concern still lingering.

“More than okay,” you beamed, tears quickly filling your eyes again.

Cassian and Nesta glanced between you both. Their expressions desperately trying to figure out what was happening. The penny dropped for Nesta first. Her own lips pulled into a genuine smile.

“Thank the Mother” she grinned, stepping forward to embrace you tightly.

The tears were spilling then, as you hugged your friend back. Little sobs racking through your body. You thought you’d cried it all out in Azriel’s arms, that there were no more tears left to give. But now, in the embrace of your friends– your family. Reality sunk in much deeper.

It only took Cassian a few moments and a glance at Azriel’s overjoyed but emotional expression to understand what was happening.

“Truly brother?” He beamed. Azriel nodded, a small tear running down his face as Cassian bear-hugged his friend, making sure Athena wasn’t squished between the giant Illyrians. 

It didn’t take long for Cassian to start shouting it from the rooftops, bellowing down the halls of River house that two baby Shadowsingers were on their way. And of course, naturally, the day turned into a celebration, a gathering with your loved ones to toast your beautiful miracle babies. 

Later that night, after Rhys and Cassian had drowned themselves in whiskey with a competition of who would be the favourite uncle.

Azriel joined you in bed, you were propped up by plush pillows against the large headboard, night dress adorned as you gazed down at your tummy. Your hands resting lightly on your stomach.

“Finally” you whispered, as Azriel laid beside you, his own hand covering both of yours as he nuzzled into your neck. Inhaling your scent.

He breathed deeply against your throat, relief and joy rippling through every inch of his skin, “Finally.”

a/n: Here is is!!! So sorry this took so long, I've been so busy with lots of interviews and prepping, which has eaten into a lot of my energy recently. But I hope this was worth the wait! I think the next scene that was voted for was the truth or dare/drinking games which would be set pre bond snapping/in the friendship era! So I'll try write that next unless there's something else first you'd like? Anyway I love writing about these two, their my little fluff couple <3 - Lottie x

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass @amberlynn98 @marscardigan @illyrianbitch @lilah-asteria

[welcometotheshitshxw]

Timeless

Cassian x Reader fluff

A/N: based on a headcanon I have about one of Cassian's hobbies

The rising sun cast a golden glow through the room, spilling like liquid light across your bed. Cassian’s long onyx hair was splayed out on his pillow, hazel eyes cracked open to meet your own with a lazy smile.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice a deep rasp as a warm hand settled on your waist, pulling your bare chest flush against his. 

Basking in the comfort of his warmth, you released a pleasant hum and settled into your mate’s embrace. Eyes drifting shut, you found yourself longing for sleep once more - to enjoy this lazy morning together.

“Cass, I can’t do training today,” you mumbled drearily, words as lips brushed against his torso.

A deep chuckle vibrated through Cassian’s chest, the feeling of a kiss pressed to your hair soothing as he leaned down to press a warm cheek against yours. 

“Then let’s skip today,” he whispered, making you lean back in shock, eyes appraising your mate for the joke that was sure to follow. 

“We can have a relaxed day. I have a place I would like to show you,” the general murmured, eyes twinkling in the morning light as a calloused thumb brushed your cheek.

You laid in bed for awhile longer, savoring the feel of Cassian’s hands lazily drifting over your body, his soft lips tracing your bare skin. 

Eventually, you managed to rise from the eden that was your bed and get dressed for the day. Cassian hadn’t told you where you were going except into the city, and you wondered where he could possibly take you in Velaris that you hadn’t been before.

After a short flight down to the rainbow, Cassian set you down to walk beside him, wing and arm wrapped warmly around your shoulder as he guided you down the cobblestone street.

“Just in here,” he murmured, nodding to an unassuming door that lay tucked beneath an awning. Pushing down on the brass handle, Cassian’s hand found your lower back as he encouraged you to step through the threshold.

The inside was as unassuming as the out, with stacks of tomes and maps crammed into every shelf of dark wood that lay illuminated by warm flickering faelight. 

A stout older male smiled up at you both from his desk, the crinkled corners of his blue eyes showing how old he must truly be for a fae as he nodded respectfully at your mate before turning to you.

“Finally decided to bring your mate, did ya?” the male teased with a wink, drawing a key from the desk that he handed to Cassian without further question.

“I did,” Cassian affirmed with a nod, murmuring a ‘thank you’ to the gentleman before twining your fingers in his own and leading you to a door where he turned the key.

The hinges of the door creaked in protest, heavy wood sliding against the floor as light flooded into the space. Your jaw dropped at the sight before you - high vaulted ceilings with grand chandeliers, artworks and murals framing the wallspace between shelves of books.

Feeling his gaze on you, you turned to see Cassian’s roguish grin as he smiled down at your awed expression.

“What do you think?” he whispered. almost nervous-sounding while he glanced between you and the impressive space.

“This is beautiful, Cassian,” you breathed, legs subconsciously drawing you closer to the large mural on the far wall. Warriors clashed from each side, light and dark contrasted in a perfectly captured moment of fear and triumph, love and loss.

You couldn’t tear your eyes from the image, a new expression on someone’s face or detail on another’s armor captivating at every glance. The warmth of Cassian’s presence settled beside you, soft lips pressing to your cheek.

“All of the continent’s history is documented here, including Prythian’s military history,” he nodded to the painting, arm moving in a sweeping gesture to the shelves on his left. 

“I come here to learn from previous generals - what worked for them, what didn’t...” he trailed off, strong arms wrapping around your waist as his chin rested on your shoulder. “And sometimes, I come here to relax. It helps me to come to a quiet place, surrounded by the knowledge of those before me, and I’m reminded of the vastness of this world, to see what I can learn from those who came before me and find comfort that there’s always a path forward.”

His last words hit you hard, a weight pressing on your chest as your eyes drew up to your mate’s sparkling hazel. “Do you ever feel like there isn’t a way forward?” you dared to whisper.

Swallowing thickly, Cassian took a deep breath before turning to fully face you. “Before you, I did. Since you came into my life, I feel that there is always hope. But there is wisdom to be found here, nonetheless.”

You hummed at his intelligent words, pulling a book from the shelf that caught your eye and pressed a kiss to your mate’s cheek. Leading him towards a warm sofa by a roaring fire, the both of you relaxed in the comfort of your place of solace.

A calloused thumb rubbed your shoulder, gently waking you from a sleep you didn’t realize you had fallen into as you looked up at Cassian’s amused face. “It’s late,” he murmured, slowly pulling the book from where it laid open in your lap. “Want to go get some dinner in town tonight?”

Cheeks still flushed from sleep, you nodded and released a yawn, lazy smile spreading across your lips as Cassian helped you to stand. Reluctantly, you left your newfound eden and stepped back out into the chilly evening streets where a band played music.

Their old tune rang out down the street, various couples dancing and walking, children laughing as you were reminded both how timeless and special life is.

[welcometotheshitshxw]

The villain laughs. “The Chosen One cannot spill blood on holy ground. I have won!” You draw your blade. “The Chosen One died the first day of our journey,” you say. “A Valet may spill blood where he pleases.”

[welcometotheshitshxw]

As High Lord, Eris must attend to his courtly duties, but all he really wants to do is be alone with you.

A/N: Eris x Reader. In which Eris is clingy. This was not a request, just something that came to my brain. I hope you enjoy! ♡ Warnings: None.

Slouched on his throne, legs spread in a show of dominance, face set in annoyance, Eris listened as an advisor, one of his father’s loyalists, droned on and on about the minutiae of court finances; recycling nearly verbatim the points he himself had been making not but an hour ago. All he desired was to be tucked in bed, listening to the beat of your heart against his ear, with your arms wrapped around him. Sighing, he forced himself back to the present moment. As of late he’d been caught, more times than he would have preferred, in a love-dazed state by the members of his court. Now, as High Lord, all eyes were truly on him and he was feeling rather suffocated; the secret glances or subtle touches that you and he used to get away with when he was just General & Heir were becoming fleeting.

“Amadeus, I think that’s enough prattling on,” Eris commanded, waving him away with his hand, “we’ve all been on the same page. Please see yourself out. As a matter of fact, we’re done here, all of you–out.” A sea of confounded expressions looked between each other, before offering polite bows, and exiting the throne room. The second the door closed, Eris reached over to where you sat beside him, beckoning you over with the flick of his wrist. Smirking, you perched on his left leg; straightening the circlet of gold and copper flame that sat upon his head, you brushed a loose curl back into place. Eris’ eyes had closed at the touch, the tension in his muscles melting away.

“Please tell me you didn’t just dismiss the council of advisors because you wanted me to sit in your lap,” you teased, earning a smirk as his eyes opened with a mischievous glint. “No, I dismissed them because I find Amadeus’ voice grating, and his drivel had ceased to provide anything of import,” he shared honestly, resting his forehead on your shoulder, “but this is definitely a welcome recompense.” A warm smile graced your lips, your hand ran soothing lines down his back; Eris loosed a sigh of relief at your touch. Without warning, a set of boot laden footsteps approached; snapping his head up, Eris relaxed as he laid eyes upon his brother, Blaise. “Be careful, brother,” Blaise taunted, though the words lacked any real bite, “the court will soon discover the depth of your softness.” Eris sneered; but his mind roared, good, let them see at last that love is a strength, not a weakness.

[welcometotheshitshxw]

“I could take you”

Pairing: Acotar men x Fem!Reader (separately)

Summary: Reader teases her mate, saying she could take them in a fight, or in other places.

Warnings: All fluff, suggestive

Rhysand

"I could take you," I surmise aloud. My mate, who was trying to sleep peeked one eye open.

"We just finished, I'm not one to complain but aren't you tired?" He grumbled and I giggled.

"Not sex, I could take you in a fight dummy," I punch his shoulder and his brows rise.

"Oh really?" He drags out, arm wrapping tighter around my torso, pulling me into his chest as darkness swarms the room. "Don't make me mist you," He mumbled tiredly into my neck and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm serious, I could," I urge. "I know just how I'd do it too," I trail my fingertips up his bare chest.

"You think about killing me often?" He presumes and I roll my eyes.

"I'm just saying, it'd be easy," I tease.

"Murder me in your dreams, you fiend," He huffed, stuffing his face into my breasts without thought.

"Only kidding Rhys, I'd never harm you," I reassure. "But I could," I add and he smiles against my chest at the absurdity of this mindless conversation.

Cassian

"I could take you," I cross my arms over my chest, sizing up my mate with narrowed eyes. The shirtless male looked at me with an arched brow while he drank deeply from his water. I had been watching him train for hours now, so long that it felt as if I had every one of his moves and skills memorized.

"You think so?" He challenges and I nod with a beaming grin, taking a step closer and staring up at him entirely innocent.

"I know so," I shrug. His smile only widens.

"I guarantee I could have you on your knees within seconds," He leans dauntingly close but I don't falter, keep my unwavering ground.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," I rise onto my toes and peck his lips. He seemed entirely thrown off by the mix of my kiss and the nickname, and that fact alone made me one thousand percent sure I could throw him off his rhythm in combat too, he might've called it cheating but I saw it as a strategic advantage of sorts.

“You want to spar or would you prefer to take me in other ways?" He taunted and I'd be lying if I didn't want both, though I decided I wanted one a little more.

"What are you waiting for tough guy?" I backed up towards the mats with a prideful smirk that mirrored his.

Azriel

My mate had his head in my lap while he read some non-fiction I had no interest in, much preferring to run my hands through his curls and watch his tense features morph into those of relaxation. My thoughts wandered in the comfortable silence, it began by thinking of what he was reading about, then the fact that he was smart and strong, and then it spiraled from there.

"I think I could take you in a fight," I mumble and his eyes that had been running across his page froze, then flicked up to mine.

"What was that, my love?" He closed his book, pausing whatever page he was in the middle of in order to give me his full attention.

"I could take you," I repeat and he blinks, then, to my surprise, he nods.

"Probably," He hums, cracking his book back open and offering no explanation as to why he thinks so.

Azriel was a competitive male, even with me. So when he said such a thing I was thrown entirely off my train of thought. "Wait— you're serious?" My hands stop combing through his hair and his bottom lip juts out in the absence of the ministrations, a grown male, pouting.

"When am I not?" He hummed and I rolled my eyes. The answer to that was more often than he'd care to admit.

"Why do you think I can?" I ask.

He shrugs simply before saying, "You'd probably use your witchcraft on me.” His eyes were entirely genuine. I push his head off my lap with a faux look of anger. He came back to me with full force, arms reaching around me and pulling me into him, his head pressing in the junction between my neck and shoulder. "I'm not a witch," I huff and he only smiles against my skin.

"Maybe not, but your seductive powers work too well on me," He explains and I roll my eyes. The powers he was referring to included a lingerie set and a few keywords that had him doing laps.

"It's not hard when I've got you wrapped around my finger," I sing and he sighs contentedly, pulling me closer, seemingly happy with with that statement, like he would never try to change that fact. Even if it meant I could take him down on a sparring mat.

Eris Vanserra

Eris was baking. An odd sight to see for anyone else but for me, it was a simple Sunday morning. I drifted into the kitchen with a drunken smile on my face as I slung my arms around his torso and draped myself over him. "What's that grin for?" He glances over at me before continuing to read whatever recipe he was following.

"Just thinking," I hum with a dazed look. It was no secret that today had been the peak of my ovulation in my cycle, my need for him was all-consuming. Yet here he was, baking my favorite flavor pie. "I wanna take you," I huff into his shoulder and he chuckles.

He makes a real show of ignoring my pleas and instead answers with an amused tone, "In a fight?"

I scowl, my frown deepening as I stare up at him— but then he had me thinking about it. "Why not?" I shrug.

"You sure you can?" He tilts his head down at me demeaningly— gods, he knows this is torture.

"Fine, you're too smart for me to beat in a fight but I could take you to other places," I wrap my arms around his neck and he sloppily smiles. "You're plenty smart, my sweet," His hands come to my hips, and his touch alone relieved sacred parts of me. I shake my head in denial. "C'mon, I've got a few weak spots I’m sure you could figure it out," He reassures, his voice soft. I didn't want to think about fighting him, I never wanted to have to.

"I love you too much to fight with you," I shrug, lifting up and pecking his lips innocently, void of my earlier arousal.

"That," He whispers against my lips. "That was one of my weak spots," He murmurs and I smile.

"Can you fuck me now or is this pie still more important than your very pretty, very needy mate?" I ask impatiently and he shakes his head with a charming expression. "Very needy, indeed."

Lucien Vanserra

“I could take you, and I don’t mean in a fight,” I say, head propped up on my mate's shoulder, peering up at him from inches away while he focused on peeling a tangerine for me. He simply laughs when he notices I’m serious, lips curling into a delighted smile.

“What’s that even supposed to mean?” He mumbles and I flip over onto his lap, straddling his hips.

“I’ll let you figure that out,” I mumble with a shrug. He shakes his head, looking down at the fruit in his hand as he peels the rind.

“You’re ridiculous,” He mumbled under his breath and I grinned wildly.

“You love it,” I muse and he looks up to me, handing me the peeled orange, ready to be eaten.

“I do,” He confesses, and that look on his face makes my stomach blossom with warmth, overflowing with admiration and devotion.

I don’t know how to react, or what to do with all the love he gives me, so instead I say the first thing that comes to mind, “I could also take you in a fight, though.”

He leans closer with a teasing grin. “And why’s that sunshine?” He hums as I pop a slice of the tangerine into my mouth, the sweet taste of citrus making me smile.

“You wouldn’t be able to fight back,” I shrug and his brows crease in confusion.

“Cause I’d be too scared?” He presumes and I shake my head, swallowing my fruit.

“Because you love me,” I croon.

“Unfortunately,” He grumbles under his breath and my jaw drops in shock. “Lu!” I exclaim as I push his shoulders and he falls back into the couch.

“I’m only kidding sunshine, you know you’re all I’ve ever wanted,” He reassured with a lilt in his tone, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m seriously debating that fight right now,” I murmur and he smiles, hand coming to my cheek and pulling me into him.

“Such a drama queen,” He mumbles, pressing his mouth to mine before I can retort. I melt into him, hands coming to his cheeks with delicate touches, my thumb tracing the end of his scar. “I love you too much to fight back, too,” I admit, his smile only grows. “I know.”

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[welcometotheshitshxw]

Lucien- *Extremely drunk* Taking Tamlin's crown off his head and shoving him off the throne* "I'm the High lord now."

Tamlin- *Sprawled across the floor* "...Okay then."

Lucien- "Go fetch me a glass of water, servant."

Tamlin- ".... No?"

Lucien- "This will not do. I hear by sentence you to the mines! An unsexy one too. The salt mines!"

Tamlin- "We don't have a salt mine."

Lucien- "Oh my GOD, then go get a shovel and MAKE ONE!"

Tamlin- "Yeah, that's not how that works."

Lucien- "Then I sentence you to the dungeons!"

Tamlin- "... We don't have a dungeon."

Lucien- "WHAT KIND OF KINGDOM IS THIS????"

[welcometotheshitshxw]

Hi! Could I please request Lavander with Eris?

- 🪷

Lavender (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, allusions to smut

Word Count: 1097

❀° Event Masterlist ❀°

A/N: I love me some Eris, thank you for requesting! I hope you enjoy it because I loved writing it! Please come visit again soon <3

EDIT: You're my first named anon, I'm SO excited! Thank you so much I really appreciate you, I hope you'll come again!

The fire crackling in the hearth flares in time with your husband’s frustration. He’s been bent over his desk all day, the furrow in his brow now seeming a permanent fixture. The title of High Lord had been hard on him, trying to repair everything his father had broken. You’re exponentially proud of him, however, your mate needs a break. You lean against the door frame of his study, clad in a silk nightgown and a barely-there robe. 

“Eris,” your voice breaks the quiet in the room like booming thunder. 

“One minute love, I promise.” He mutters, amber eyes scanning over another report or trade agreement. 

“Eris,” you try again, taking another step into the room. His eyes flick up to you for one second, the pupils going wide just a fraction. 

There’s no other tell that your husband wants to bend you over his desk, but every fire in the room burns hotter. 

“You look delectable, but I have to finish this.” He sounds mournful as he runs a hand through his hair. You hum, walking around to the back of his chair, and lazily draping your arms around his neck. Eris leans into your touch for a moment, exhaling a long sigh of relief. You drop a kiss onto his hairline as you rub circles into his shoulder planes. He practically purrs at your ministrations, melting into your soothing hands. 

“Take a break.” You mutter, planting kisses at the soft spot where his jaw meets his ear and he groans. “Let me take care of you, please.” 

“Are you asking or demanding?” Eris chuckles finally setting the documents down. 

“Your High Lady demands it,” You purr, “How about a massage?” You question and he hums his agreement, his eyes slipping shut as he lets you lead him away from his desk. Eris follows you like a man in a daze, blindly stumbling after your form like you’re leading him out of the underworld. When you finally enter your bedroom, Eris’s body almost crumbles in relief. He missed being in here with you, the comforting touches of the space you two share. You turn to face him and he’s knocked aback by your beauty, clad in your nightgown and robe as you begin to undo the buttons on his shirt. Finally, the fabric falls to the ground as you run your hands over the strong planes of his shoulders, down his biceps, and clasp his hands in yours. You press a featherlight kiss to his lips. 

“Lie on the bed,” You whisper against his lips, urging him backward toward the invitation of the soft mattress and cool sheets to fight against the ache in his bones. Eris follows your instructions leaning back on the bed and flipping over on his stomach. He feels your body, delicate and soft as you straddle his waist. You pause for a moment to uncork the bottle of sweet-scented oil before warming it in your hands and slathering it across his back. You run your hands across his back, skipping across like stones on water. Your fingers work each notch of his spine, trying to work out the knots that nest themselves between each vertebra. Eris wants to dissolve beneath your fingertips, forget everything he is, and all that weighs on his shoulders. 

The only thing he wants to be is your mate. That’s all he’s ever wanted anyway. 

He sighs letting himself sink down into the mattress as his mind finally settles. Eris has been so busy recently trying to rebuild the scraps of the court his bastard of a father left behind for him. You’ve been busy too, the newly established duties of High Lady eating a massive portion of your free time as well. You’ve missed each other, the restless golden thread is finally at peace now that you’re back in each other’s presence. After every knot in Eris’s back has been worked out, his eyes slipped shut and his breathing even you slip off his back and lie next to him on the bed. He reaches for you instantly, rolling onto his back and pulling you into his chest in one smooth movement. 

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips as he finally kisses you, sweetly and lovingly as he circles the back of your neck. You hum a response, deepening the kiss as you fist the sheets next to his head. You let yourself be kissed, enjoying the way he caresses your ribcage with a harpist's grace, gently plucking a tune in time with your sighs. Eris lays your head on his chest as he warms his hands, letting the fire in his veins soothe the cramping in the crook of your neck and shoulder blades, his other hand running the silk of your nightgown between his fingertips. 

“I’ve missed you,” You mumble into his chest and he noses along your hairline, taking a deep breath.  

“I miss you too, my love” Eris promises, “We will have more time once everything settles I swear.” You know he means it, and you can’t wait until everything settles down once more. Your eyes are beginning to slip shut, but Eris isn’t quite ready to let you drift into your dreams yet, too greedy for your presence. “Would you like some tea?” he asks, barely a whisper into the night and you nod against his chest. He slips away slowly, and you roll into the warm spot he left behind. He leaves the door open when he leaves, padding his way down to the kitchen instead of bothering a housekeeper so late at night. 

However, what he didn’t think of was that his hounds were also feeling neglected, and they missed their mother especially. Five of his hounds found their way into the room as soon as he left, quickly taking up their own territories on the bed. 

You didn’t protest as your personal favorite nestled his way underneath your arm. 

When Eris returned with two steaming mugs of tea he found himself ousted, and you fast asleep surrounded by a pack of sleeping dogs. Laughing to himself he set the mugs of tea down on the dresser, waving his hand to put out the candles in the room. He manages to worm his way back into the bed, rolling his eyes at the disgruntled sighs from the sleeping hound being moved. Eris finally fights his way onto his pillows and arm around your sleeping form as another dog lays its head across his lap. 

And for the first time in what feels like weeks, Eris Vanserra sleeps soundly. 

[welcometotheshitshxw]

High lady. | High Lord Eris X F reader

Summary:

A/N: Hellooo my fireflies! I’ve been thirsting for Eris these past few weeks so why not write for him? I can’t believe I ever didn’t like this man 😫. Also for my male readers out there, if you’d like me to rewrite this or any of my other fics with a male reader, just ask! 💕

3k words

warnings: cussing, allusions to sex, use of y/n, slight angst, she/her pronouns

There were no words to describe your shock at seeing the royal invite to the ball. You weren’t high fae. You were a simple, low class librarian. Your name was written in beautiful, classy cursive. A handwriting you recognized immediately. This was handwritten by Eris. Eris Vanserra. Memories flooded your mind.

Running through the gardens, dogs barking behind you playfully. You didn’t have time to react before a body landed on you. Eris. He tackled you to the dirt, his hand was cradling your head to prevent it banging against the floor as he straddled your back. His hounds crowded the two of you, stomping and making noises with excitement.

“Got you little fox!” Eris announced, hugging you from behind.

“Not fair! You said you’d give me a head start.” You pouted. Eris’s laughter filled the air, creating a warm atmosphere. His arms wrapped around your middle and he pulled you into a hug. His embrace was warm and comforting in the cool autumn air.

Cauldron. That was so long ago. Eris was older by you than a long shot, but at that time, you were young. Nineteen years old. Young and innocent. He was also slightly more innocent then, playing with you and entertaining your young soul. Your face flushed a slight shade of pink, and you shook your head. You remember your crush on him. How could you not have one though? Everyone warned you. And you didn’t listen. He was everything a girl at that age would’ve wanted. Beautiful, handsome, smart, experienced, and a prince.

It was only when you discovered Eris was to be betrothed to some high fae daughter in his father’s court, did your little world come crashing down with reality. You were a peasant compared to him. And he likely saw you as nothing but entertainment. So you distanced yourself. You stopped accepting his invites to dinner with his family, you didn’t go out with him anymore. Of course, you couldn’t bear to completely cut him off. So you still would accept his occasional invite to walk with him in the forests with his hounds. He always told you they missed you. Now days, the walks were somewhat awkward. They happened every few months.

The last one was 6 months ago. You always thought you were doing better, you worked at a library, and cared for precious books. You lived in a relatively small apartment, but it was okay. You were grateful, you had a roof on your head and food on your plate. Things had changed since your last walk with him.

Beron was dead. On Eris’s wedding night, before the marriage had been officiated he had dueled Beron to a battle of death. Hundreds at the wedding had witnessed as Eris brutally slayed his father, and placed the crown on his head. Declaring himself as high lord. He released himself of the marriage, and granted his fiancé permission to marry her true lover. When the news escaped to the streets and you heard, you couldn’t help but be nervous. You realized, Eris would be to busy with his court to come on walks with you anymore. And that made you realize that your feelings weren’t gone. You had never gotten over him.

Tonight was a royal ball. You remembered Eris had always begged his father to let you attend the dances and balls, but Beron always refused. Saying trash like you should never be seen with royalty. Eris, stayed by your side though. He’d sneak from the dances and find you, and would dance in the silent night with you. And you had no idea why Eris was inviting you to this ball. Was it pity? Did he want you to experience something nice once in your life? What would you even wear? You certainly didn’t have royal attire.

You ripped open the letter with your nails, admiring the wax seal of a little fox on it. You opened it to a small card inside. Eris’s handwriting.

Little fox,

I’d be honored for you to attend the royal autumn ball tonight with me. A carriage will wait for you at your apartment at noon. Don’t neglect my dogs of your attention any longer.

Love, Eris.

You giggled. You felt like a school girl. You could feel the heat on your face. You admired his familiar handwriting. It was neat and lovely in every sense. A dried viola fell into your lap when you opened the card further. Memories of him teaching you cursive in the gardens made you smile. You stood, grasping the flower, and pulled out the small box you kept of every letter he had ever sent you. Whenever Beron would try to restrict him from seeing you, it didn’t stop him from convincing his maids or servants to get his letters to you. You hadn’t received a letter since his last request to walk with you. The box was filled with the dried flowers he’d always sent with them.

How could you go? What would you wear? You approached your closet. And then you remembered something.

“Eris- I can’t wear this. This is too- too, royal.” You squeaked, admiring the beautiful dress he had just gifted you.

“Wear it. It matches the suit my father made me wear. Let’s dance, little fox.” He purred, pushing hair out of your face. Once the dress was on, he pulled you close to him in the empty streets on the Autumn Court and guided you in a slow dance, uncaring of the lack of music. Or the fact he was missing a royal ball.

You didn’t waste time in finding the box tucked away safely under your bed, and pulling it out. You opened the box, staring at the gorgeous forgotten dress. You had only worn it the last night he had danced with you.

This would work. Looks like all the dances you learned from books would pay off tonight.

Music from the orchestra blasted loudly. You entered the throne room, slightly late. But nobody cared. You were fashionably late- you had to find a mask. It was a masquerade after all. And Eris’s letter was a little bit close to time so, nobody could blame you. People danced in sync all over the room, dresses of different colors swaying. It was so fascinating. You couldn’t help but be mesmerized. Sure, most of these people were stuck up cunts, but they were beautiful, and they knew it too. You walked down the the grand stair case, eyes greedily taking in everything.

And then they caught on him. He sat on the throne, auburn hair messy as if he had ran his hands through it more then once tonight. The crown on his head was slightly crooked, giving him an uncaring look as high fae of all kinds greeted him. His mask was the color of burning fire, gold lace trimming it. He seemed bored, uninterested in this whole party. And he looked every bit of the High Lord you knew he would be.

You didn’t have the guts to greet him. You couldn’t. He had invited you out of perhaps pity. There were clear boundaries you were sure of. And you knew approaching the high lord as a peasant would break every single one of those boundaries. You could already see high fae turning their noses up at you as you walked by.

You approached the giant banquet table, observing the various foods. They were all favorites of yours. Maybe you just had a fancy food taste. You grabbed a glass of fae wine off of a servant’s tray, happy to indulge yourself in high quality wine that you didn’t have to pay for. You decided to eat after you danced.

You turned to face the dance floor. You watched the first waltz come to an ends, couples departing to find new partners. You swirled your wine in your glass, smelled it and then took a taste. It was glorious. Aged, and woodsy. You figured the bottle was easily in the three hundreds. Who cared? You didn’t have to pay for it. You snickered to yourself.

“Dance with me?” A coy voice purred beside you.

You turned, seeing a gentle around your age. High fae. And he was still asking to dance. Odd. His mask was black with silver lace. He wore a simple black tux. His hair was a dark brown, slicked with gel. He had a warm smile. He was handsome. You took his outstretched hand.

“Why not?” You replied, setting your wine glass down on a servant’s tray. The male smirked with arrogance, and swooped you to the dance floor. Music begun, and he started the dance.

“I’m Silas.” He murmured, twirling you. You nodded, having no problem in keeping up with the complex strides of this particular dance.

“Y/n” You responded. His eyes glinted.

“Beautiful name for a beautiful girl like you.” Silas said. He started to move faster, as if seeing how well you could keep up. And you did. Having no trouble at all.

You smiled warmly. This man was nice. You could see yourself with him. But it felt like something was missing. Like a hole in your heart.

“Thank you, Silas.” You purred back, starting to lead the dance. You guided it into a more complex rhythm, going along with the music, but ultimately making it more difficult. You giggled when he tripped over his own foot but caught himself. He glared at you.

“You dance awfully good for a commoner.” He huffed out, twirling you again.

“Having trouble keeping up?” You taunted playfully, not caring of his snarky remark. He was embarrassed. You could tell by how his eyes were roaming the people that had take to watch the both of you dance, interested in seeing how long you could rule the dance floor, he was embarrassed. Your eyes roamed the people. You could feel a familiar sense of someone watching. Your eyes found Eris. He was no longer listening to the fae beside him. His amber eyes bored into you. When you caught eye contact, he smirked. His legs spread as he leaned further into his throne. His eyebrow was cocked, his long talons tapping against the throne.

Cauldron. You had forgot how breathtakingly gorgeous he was. And sexy. You felt your face flush.

A snarl distracted you from him. Silas’s hands clutched your hips.

“Do not mock me.” He growled quietly in your ear. The music’s rhythm went faster, and the dance along with it. The curious fae quickly started dancing again, embarrassed at how they were so mesmerized by a commoner.

You went to take another step, but Silas went crashing to the floor. You watched in shock as he slid on the floor, his eyes wide with fury and embarrassment. His face heated with embarrassment. He looked up at you mouth open as if he was about to blame you, but his eyes caught on something behind you. Or rather, someone.

You turned slowly to see the high lord standing in his full glory behind you. His sharp cunning eyes squinted and mouth pulled into a smirk. He observed the male on the floor before looking at the people around you both. Then his eyes landed on you. You were awestruck by him for a minute- before you realized he was royalty. You started to bow but an invisible force stopped you. Your eyes narrowed in confusion before Eris bowed in front of you.

The High Lord just bowed in front of you. You. A peasant. Before you could say anything he lifted his hand to you.

“Grant me the pleasure of a dance?” He said, loud and clear. Gods you missed his voice. Yours ears picked up multiple gasps of shock. You heard a start of a growl before seeing Eris’s eyes glare into Silas behind you. You heard Silas scrambling away, knowing his place. Eris’s eyes turned back to you. He stayed in a bowed down position, hand waiting for yours. You swallows your shock. So be it. This very much may be the last dance you and him share, and you would take it.

Eris smiled softly when he felt the familiar embrace of your hand on his. His hand wrapped around yours, completely swallowing it. You hadn’t even realized the music had stopped until now. He motioned with his free hand for it to begin again. Fae around you scampered to start dancing, but all of their eyes were on you. On him. And his eyes were on you. And that’s all that mattered.

His free hand moved to your hip, grasping it gently with respect. He slowly moved to start the dance, holding you close. You didn’t know what to say or do other than to follow his lead. You didn’t even realize your mouth was gaping open.

“Little fox, you look like a fish gasping for air.” Eris teased in your ear, and you quickly shut your mouth.

“Sorry-“

“Don’t apologize. You never have to apologize to me.” He replied, smoothly. Gods. It was as if you were 19 again and you were dancing in the empty village with him. His long nails drew circles on your hip as you slowly started ti advance in the pace of the music. He kept up with ease, and you the same.

“Your hounds miss you.” Eris murmured, leaning his head down enough to kiss your forehead. It took every ounce of self control to not accidentally trip in shock.

“My hounds? They’re not mine. They’re yours!“ You started.

“Yes, they are, little fox. You helped me save and raise Sadie’s pups. If it wasn’t for you most of them would’ve died during birth. They are every bit of yours as they are mine.” He responded, pulling you closer. You knew better then to continue this fight with him. He was stubborn. And you knew if you tried to refuse again you’d probably have a pack of hounds at your apartment door tomorrow- out of spite.

“Whatever.” You grumbled defeatedly, shaking your head. He chuckled. His laugh was deeper now. You could smell the envy of other women around you. You wondered if they knew there wasn’t anything to be jealous of.

“So..how’s being High Lord?” You asked, unsure of what to talk about now. Eris frowned with a playful pout.

“Lonely. I’m sure the hounds would agree too. But don’t worry about that. That’ll change very, very soon.”

You weren’t quite sure what Eris was getting on to now. He always spoke in riddles. You sighed. Before you could re-question him, he started talking again.

“How has my little fox been?” Eris divulged.

You blushed. He had always had a knack for that dumb nickname. You were glad people couldn’t hear your conversation. The current dance came to an end and Eris wasted no time in pulling you into another. He knew you would have no problems keeping up.

“I’ve been good.” You responded. You looked up at him. He had gotten taller. And bigger. Maybe it was the high lord magic that transferred to him after Beron died or something. You weren’t sure. But he towered over you, creating a comical size difference. He gave you a toothy playful smile. He was always so carefree around you. You loved it. You loved him.

“You look lovely in that dress.”

“You bought it.” You quipped back at him.

“I have such good taste don't I?” He countered.

You couldn’t help but giggled looking away. The music slowed and you knew this was coming to an end. And gods you didn’t want it to end. His eyes softened as if he too was thinking the same. He grasped you tighter, pulling you closer, your bodies left no space between each others. He leaned down and inhaled your scent.

“Gods. I missed you. I missed your scent. The way you laugh. Talking with you- I missed it all.” Eris started. He held you tighter when you tried to pull away, confused.

“Don’t move away. Let me enjoy this Y/n.” He whispered, head going to the crook of your neck as he slowed the dance, moving with rhythm to the orchestra’s music. You realized how desperate and clingy his hood on you seemed now. As if he had missed you as much as you missed him.

Fuck boundaries. You couldn’t care if you were a peasant compared to him right now. You let your inner thoughts win as you tightly clutched at him. You didn’t wanna let go of him. You let your head lean against his chest, relaxing into the calm and slow dance. You knew fae were gawking at you both. And neither of you cared. Eris seemed shocked at your return of his embrace. The music slowed to a stop, and so did you both in the middle of the floor. Eris gently pulled away, staring at you with such adoring eyes. A sharp contrast to who he was in front of these people. His eyes found their way to your lips. He looked back up at you, a pleading look on his face. You understood what he wanted.

His hand clutched at the back of your head as your lips met. His were soft. It was the most gentle and loving kiss. You couldn’t give a flying fuck about the jealous and envious fae. Not just women. Both males and females snickering in jealousy. Eris pulled away, eyes soft. He took in the sight of you.

He didn’t waste time in pulling you in for a second kiss. This one wasn’t gentle. It was hot. Aggressive. He kissed you as if there was a fire in his bones and you were the only thing that could sooth it. His teeth gently nipped and sucked on your bottom lip. You returned it. His hand clutched at the back of your head, talons tangled in your hair. His other one clutched at your hip and roamed to your lower back. Your hands clutched at the front of his dress shirt. When you pulled away gasping for air, Eris had the biggest smile on his face. His eyes roamed your face again. You lips were swollen and pink from him. You were panting and looking at him as if he was everything. And he returned the same look. He tucked a strand of loose hair behind your ear before cupping your jaw.

“Don’t make me miss you anymore. Stay with me. I’ll give you everything you could dream of. You can be my high lady. Anything- anything you want.” He begged, eyes pleading. You knew he wasn’t lying.

“Eris..”

Eris swear his heart stopped with the way you said his name. He’s positive he would die right here on this floor at your knees if you rejected him. You were all he ever wanted.

“You’re everything I could dream of.” You whispered to him. Eris took in a gasp of air, not realizing he had been holding it. Relief flooding his body. And then pure love. He grabbed your hand before you could say anything and guided you up the stairs the the throne. He turned, facing the crowd with you. His hand placed on your lower back.

The whole crowd of fae stared in confusion and shock. No idea of what was about to happen.

“Well? What are you waiting for?” Eris barked. “Show some respect to your high lady.”

His voice boomed across the room, gasps eliciting from the crowd. And then, they all bowed. You stood in front of the throne, watching as they all bowed to their knees. The scent of fear and confusion flooded from the fae.

Eris smirked before turning around back to you. He knew that despite your anxieties, you were made for this. Just your presence demanded attention from others. He knew you were his. His eyes shined with pure male pride as he removed the autumn court crown from his head, and gently placed it on yours. You watched as he bowed down on his knee, paying respect to you. His queen. You relaxed. Hundreds of high fae all bowed down to you. Your man bowed down to you. You tipped your head up with a smirk.

Eris grasped your hand and kissed your ring finger with a possessive glare at it. As if promising himself it would soon have a ring around it. He stood, and walked you to the throne. He held your hand as you sat down on it, crossing your legs. He stood beside you, eyes peering to the fae. He looked to you. Gods you were gorgeous. He couldn’t help the possessiveness in him that filled to the brim at seeing you where you finally belonged. He had waited so long to be able to do this.

“The masquerade is over. Get out.” He growled to the people, his eyes never leaving you. He didn’t bother turning around to ensure the people left. He could hear them rushing to get out.

He was gonna fuck you on your rightful throne.

[welcometotheshitshxw]

The Quiet Between || Azriel

Summary: Request -Hiyaaa loved your Az story. So freaking good. I had one in mind and wonder if you could write it? Maybe some deep Azriel and reader angst? I'm picturing a scene where Azriel, drowning under his duties and secrets snaps harshly at the reader, our newest healer at the Night Court when she gently suggests he talks about what’s weighing on him. His words sting, making her doubt her role at the court... Read Rest Here

A/N: Whew this was challenging to write but I really love how it turned out! Please let me know how you like it below. And as always, keep sending in your requests!

Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (Dawn Court Reader)

Word Count: 6.2k +

TW: Mean Az, Harsh Words (soft ending!)

When Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court, realized the growing demands of her duties required an apprentice she petitioned the High Lord for permission to seek out a promising candidate. Her search led her to Dawn Court where your skills and unique approach to healing caught her attention. Impressed, as she often wasn’t, she offered you the chance to study under her. A chance to take over for her in a few hundred years. It was a proposition that both excited and terrified you. Normally you were more risk-averse but something within urged you not to let this opportunity slip by. Accepting the offer might be a decision you'd regret forever if declined.

Your arrival at the Night Court was a mix of awe and overwhelming pressure. You were acutely aware of the Court’s reputation with its warriors and schemers, and its dances of politics and power. Yet, as the years unfolded you found more than just acceptance. You found a place where you felt like you just might belong. Madja was an exacting teacher and under her guidance you thrived. Your skills became indispensable to the Night Court.

Mor, your favorite social butterfly, took it upon herself to integrate you into the Court's vibrant life. She invited you out with the girls to Rita's where the music and laughter helped weave you deeper into the fabric of Night Court society. Cassian with his easy grin and boundless energy offered to train you in physical defense. He said it was essential for everyone at the Court to know how to protect themselves. And even Rhysand himself showed you how to fortify your mental shields as a necessary skill amidst the intrigues that often played out around them.

Yet despite these warm inclusions, Azriel was the only one who kept a cautious distance. The shadowy spymaster was polite but reserved. He often watched you with a contemplative gaze that suggested he was trying to figure you out from a safe distance. His reluctance to engage was not overtly hostile but it was clear he held reservations. His own shadows clinging too tightly, perhaps, to allow another close. This delicate balance of respect and curiosity marked your interactions, or lack thereof, with the spymaster. You often caught glimpses of Azriel as his presence like a whisper in the vast halls of the Court. He was always just out of reach, both physically and emotionally. His aloofness didn't hinder your duties. But it did create a space of unanswered questions in your mind.

One cool evening in the Night Court the opportunity to bridge that distance between him presented itself unexpectedly. Azriel returned from a particularly grueling mission. His arrival unannounced except for the quiet clatter of his boots in the hallway of the healer's quarters. As he pushed open the door, the grimace etched across his face spoke volumes of the pain he was enduring, both visible and hidden beneath the surface.

You ushered him in, your professional demeanor in place yet your heart beating a tad faster with the realization that this was the closest you had ever been to him. His usually guarded expression was replaced with a rare, unguarded grimace of pain. It revealed a vulnerability he typically masked beneath layers of shadows and silence making you feel a touch uneasy.

"Let me help," you offered softly while guiding him to a seat where you could better assess his injuries. The proximity to him in this moment tending to his wound felt like an unspoken permission to finally address the silent questions that had lingered between you. It was an opening to understand the man who had so thoroughly perfected the art of being untouchable.

"Let's take a look at that," you murmur while taking his hand in yours. Your hands are steady and careful as you gently peel away the fabric near his wound. The cut isn't deep, but it's laced with poison, enough to have caused significant discomfort. “I’m sorry. This is going to sting.” You whispered as you rushed off to grab the needed supplies.

As you apply a soothing salve you notice Azriel's clenched jaw and the way his muscles tighten under your touch—not just from the sting of the wound. You've seen warriors in all states, and you recognize the signs of inner turmoil as clearly as physical injuries.

"Azriel," you start, your voice soft but firm, "even the strongest warriors can benefit from sharing their burdens. It doesn't make you weak to speak about what's weighing on your heart." You try and sound confident in your words, but it comes out as meek.

His reaction is immediate and sharp. It cut through the air like a freshly sharpened knife. Azriel's eyes snap up to meet your with a coldness in them that freezes you in place. "You think you have the right to offer me counsel?" he says with his voice low and biting. "You, who have barely seen a fraction of the darkness I have faced. Yet you presume to understand my duties, my sacrifices?"

You open your mouth to apologize. To clarify your intentions but he doesn't give you the chance. "No, don’t," he snaps. Cutting you off as your heart begins to sink. "Don’t patronize me with platitudes and naive compassion. You know nothing of the burdens I carry. Of the secrets that consume me. You see surface wounds and think to heal a soul scarred by centuries?" It was the most you had heard him speak and unfortunately for you those words made your heart nearly twist in two. Surely that wasn’t what you were trying to do.

Your eyes begin to burn. His words slicing through any defense you might have had. You look down instead focusing on the bandage. To hide the hurt that’s welling up, threatening to spill over. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to—"

"Save your apologies," Azriel interrupts with a tone as harsh as a winter storm. "They mean nothing in the face of what I endure daily. You wish to help? Do so by not overstepping your bounds again." You drop his arm after finishing up removing the poison and sealing the cut. But he wasn’t done, no. You just wished he’d fly away instead of cutting you even deeper. You had no intention of offending him yet here he was, hurt by your very own words. You’d never truly felt like a helpless child in all your centuries until this very moment.

As he continues his words grow even colder, each one a deliberate stake right into your very own heart. "Understand this, healer. My life, my pains are not fodder for idle chatter or curious minds seeking to 'fix' what they perceive as broken. You cannot begin to comprehend the wars I fight within the shadows. Wars meant to protect you and everyone else here from horrors you should hope never to encounter." His words were final, offering you no chance at rebuttal. Not that you would have been able to find the words. Your mind was racing in horror about what had just transpired in your very own healing hall. You, the one who was meant to mend broken souls might’ve just torn his right back open.

He stands abruptly with his wound tended but the air around him colder than the stone walls of the court. His departure is swift, leaving a wake of silence so deep it echoes through the chamber. You're left alone with the sting of his rebuke more painful than any physical wound you've treated. His words replay in your mind as a harsh reminder of the chasm between his world of shadows and your desire to heal. Guilt begins to consume you as you replay the words that struck you so hardly in your mind.

The room feels overwhelmingly empty as you struggle to compose yourself. The impact of his dismissal weighing heavily on your heart. You realize that healing Azriel might be beyond your reach. Not for lack of skill, but because the wounds he carries are far deeper and more complex than you ever imagined. Perplexed and deeply hurt you find yourself grappling with a tumult of emotions. Confusion is the first to surface. You had approached the situation with genuine concern. Your offer to listen driven by the empathy that defines your role as a healer. His aggressive response, then, feels like an undeserved refusal. A dismissal not just of your words but of your very intent.

You replay the conversation in your mind, dissecting each exchange, each barbed word. His accusation that you, nestled in your world of herbs and healing, could never understand the scope of his darkness stings sharply. It's true though you realize. That the depths of his secrets are beyond your grasp. This acknowledgment doesn't ease the sting of rejection. If anything, it deepens the wound. You had not claimed to understand. You only wanted to listen. And yet, he had cut you off, leaving no room for reconciliation.

As the initial shock fades, a deeper, more persistent ache settles in. You're hurt. Undeniably so. Hurt by his insinuation that your attempts at comfort were trivial, naive even. Does he truly see you as just another court member? As just a healer? Naive to the true workings of his world? The thought is disheartening, and you feel a profound sense of isolation creeping in. A sense that perhaps you are out of your depth in this court of shadows and secrets. Perhaps your mother was right. You weren’t built for the Night Court. You had a wonderful, easy life in Dawn. She had even picked out a high-ranking husband for you that would’ve provided and kept you safe. Her nagging words pricked at the back of your mind as the last five years here almost fell all for nothing. Five years was no time in the world of fae, you knew this. You were still the new healer, but you had thought that maybe you were finally finding your footing here. But then again maybe you were wrong.

Yet, beyond the hurt and confusion there's also a glimmer of resolve. You're a healer, trained not only to mend wounds but to understand the people you treat. Azriel's outburst, though harsh, reveals more than his disdain. It highlights his immense burden. His profound isolation. Perhaps your approach was too direct. Too unguarded for someone so accustomed to concealing his emotions.

As you clean up the space a quiet resolution forms in your mind. You won't push him again, no, not without invitation. The sting of his words lingers, and you decide that perhaps the best way to handle this is to give him the space he seems to fiercely guard. He may have dismissed your concern today but it's clear that what he desires most is distance. Not the compassion you offered. In this moment of reflection, you recognize the complexity of healing. It’s not just about tending to visible wounds. It’s also about understanding when to step back. Recognizing that some scars are too deeply etched to be approached without consent. Azriel has his walls, high and fortified. And you, you decide, will no longer attempt to scale them. Instead, you resolve to avoid him, believing that distancing yourself is the kindest thing you can do for him right now.

This decision doesn't come easy. You're a healer, trained to offer solace and aid to those in pain. Yet, in this case, the healing you want to provide is not welcomed or perhaps even needed in the way you thought. You accept that sometimes healing means stepping back. It means allowing wounds to close in the solitude they were opened in. Maybe with time he will seek you out if ever he feels ready to lower his guard. Until then you'll focus on those who welcome your help carrying with you the lesson that sometimes the best way to care for someone is simply to let them be.

After the confrontation in the healing room the atmosphere at the Night Court seemed to shift becoming dense with an unspoken tension that hung heavily in the air. Azriel quickly became burdened by the discomfort of his own harshness. It wasn’t often but he felt an acute sting of regret. His words, sharper and colder than he had intended, replayed relentlessly in his mind. Each sentence an echo of a reminder of the pain he had inflicted on somebody so kind.

Late into the night he found himself wandering the quieter corridors of the court trying to clear his mind.. The stone beneath his feet was cold and unyielding much like the mask he wore so well. With each step he attempted to outpace his regret, but solitude brought no relief. The memory of the genuine shock and sadness in your eyes haunted him. A vivid image that refused to fade into the shadows where he so often retreated.

Why had he lashed out? Azriel questioned himself. His normally composed thoughts unraveling with unusual disorder. He knew the stress of his duties as the spymaster often left him on edge, a blade perpetually sharpened and ready. Yet, it was more than just the strain of his role. It was the fear of vulnerability. Of opening those darker parts of himself he fought so hard to control. Seeing your concern, so innocent and genuine, had somehow threatened the walls he had meticulously built around his emotions for centuries. He couldn’t become undone by your one simple question.

He hated himself for how he had responded to you. How his instinct to protect his inner turmoil had manifested as cruelty towards you. The more he thought about it the more he despised the part of himself that had become so adept at pushing others away, especially those who dared to care.

As Azriel continued his nocturnal wanderings the shadows around him seemed to whisper of solitude and sorrow. Yet, it was the sorrow in your eyes that lingered most prominently in his mind. He realized then that his actions might not only have hurt you but could also have damaged whatever budding respect or friendship could have grown between you. This thought tightened the already constricting band around his chest. He had messed up badly and he knew it. His shadows knew it.

Resolving to seek redemption, not just for his peace but to mend the fracture he had caused, Azriel decided he would apologize to you. He needed to explain to you. To make you understand that his outburst wasn’t a reflection of his feelings towards you but a misguided defense against his own insecurities.

His journey through the night didn’t erase his regrets, but it solidified his resolve. He would try to bridge the gap his words had created hoping that you would understand and perhaps forgive. In the quiet before dawn Azriel finally stopped walking, the decision firm in his mind. Tomorrow, he would face you again, not as the Night Court's daunting spymaster, but simply as Azriel… imperfect and remorseful.

As he moved silently past the gardens the moonlight cast a serene glow over the night-blooming flowers illuminating the path with a ghostly light. Drawn by the soft, muffled sounds of distress his shadows unconsciously steered him towards a secluded alcove hidden by tendrils of ivy and the long shadows of the towering trees. It was unmistakably you. His heart tightened as he approached. Driven by a mix of concern and a need to understand the impact of his earlier harshness.

There in the dim light, he found you seated on a small bench. You were not alone, but with one of the younger assistants from the healer's quarters he had recognized. The assistant, whom you often mentored, sat beside you with a hand on your shoulder. Her presence meant to support you as you struggled with a flood of emotions.

"I don’t know any more Helena. Maybe I just don't belong here," you whispered between sobs. Your voice shaky with uncertainty. Tears streamed down your cheeks unrestrained after holding them back for so long. Azriel's words had not just stung. They had acted as a dam break, releasing all the pent-up doubts and fears you had about your place in this illustrious court. "I keep thinking maybe I should just go back to Dawn. My very own mother always said I was chasing a fantasy coming here. Maybe she's right. Maybe a quieter life away from all this would be better for me. Maybe I’m not cut out for the Night Court."

The young assistant, Helena, looked up to you not only for your healing skills but also for your kindness and leadership. She listened intently. Her expression one of deep empathy and concern. "You can't think that way," she responded softly. Her voice earnest. "Everyone here, especially Madja, respects you so much. Cassian, Mor, even Rhysand—they all see how much you bring to our home. It's not just you’re healing. It's your spirit. You're meant to be here with us. Please don’t think like that. I’ve learned more than I ever thought possible from you. We need you here."

Her comforting words were meant to bolster your spirits, but the reassurance felt hollow against the backdrop of your raw emotions. Despite her encouraging tone, the doubts seeded by Azriel's harsh outburst lingered. They tainted your thoughts with shadows of uncertainty about your place in this world you had grown to love yet still sometimes felt alien in.

Azriel was hidden just out of sight. He felt a deep pang of regret as he listened. The raw pain in your voice and the sight of your tears struck him more profoundly than he had ever expected. He realized then that his careless words had cut far deeper than he had intended, not just challenging your confidence but piercing the very core of your sense of belonging. Knowing that an apology would be necessary but not sufficient, Azriel resolved to actively show that you were valued and essential. Not just as a healer but as a vital member of their community. His thoughts solidified in the quiet of the night. He would make amends, starting with a heartfelt apology and followed by actions that would hopefully restore your faith in your place at the Night Court.

It was an ordinary yet busy day in the healer's quarters of the Night Court. You were deeply focused on tending to a young fae warrior who had sustained a minor but painful injury during training. As you carefully applied a healing salve the sound of urgent voices and heavy footsteps echoed down the hallway.

"He needs help now!" Azriel's voice carried a tone of dire urgency as he burst into the room. He was supporting a limping Cassian whose leg was bleeding profusely from a deep gash surely laced with poison. These damn Illyrians always coming back with some form of poisoned injury. The sight of such an injury would normally have you on your feet and rushing over. But the presence of Azriel, the harbinger of your recent heartache, gave you pause.

For a split second your gaze met Azriel's and the memory of his harsh words and cold dismissal surged through your mind. You looked away as quickly as you could. Your chest immediately tightened with anxiety at the thought of what to do. It wasn’t fair to Cassian to ignore him, but you didn’t think you could face Azriel right now. Terrified of another confrontation and still raw from the last you quickly turned your attention back to the young fae before you.

"This one's in a critical state, I need to focus here. Helena, please attend to the General." you called out your voice slightly louder than necessary. The lie laid bitter on your tongue. It wasn't entirely untrue. His injury did need attention, but it certainly wasn't as dire as Cassian's condition.

Helena, who had followed in behind Azriel and Cassian, quickly stepped forward to assist, sensing the tension. "I've got him, don't worry," she spoke as she moved to tend to Cassian with a swift efficiency that you were grateful for.

As you focused intently on the young fae's injury with your back turned to the drama unfolding behind you, you heard every strained whisper and shuffling footstep echoed ominously. Despite your efforts to concentrate your mind spun with anxiety and dread. You knew your actions were a protective shield guarding you from a confrontation you felt unprepared to handle.

Behind you, Azriel's concern for Cassian was palpable. His usual stoic demeanor was pierced by urgency. His voice a low, constant murmur as he assisted your assistant. Yet, his mind was partly on you. He was troubled by the palpable tension and the rigid set of your shoulders. The memory of his previous harshness towards you weighed heavily on him, mixing regret with a newfound caution. He wondered if his actions had broken something essential. Perhaps fearing that your trust in him might be irreparably damaged.

Cassian, despite his pain noticed the strained dynamics as well. As your assistant worked on his wound his eyes flicked towards you, then back to Azriel. "What happened between you two?" he hissed under his breath not missing the unusual distance you kept. Azriel's silence was an answer in itself. It was filled with remorse and resignation. Cassian's frown deepened. Concern for his friends overshadowing his physical discomfort. "You need to fix this, Az," he muttered, firm yet worried. "She’s not just any healer. She’s part of this family now. She’s going to replace Madja someday."

Once the immediate crisis was handled and Cassian was stable Azriel made his way towards you. His steps were hesitant, each one heavy with regret. When he paused by your side his presence felt like a cold shadow. His usual warmth for his family became obscured by the barrier that had formed between you.

"Thank you," he said softly. His voice low and perhaps understanding more than you wanted him to. "For all that you do here." You sucked in a breath at his words. Was he apologizing? Was he sorry? Were you completely misreading the situation yet again?

You didn't turn to face him. Fear of what you might see in his eyes—anger, disappointment, or worse, indifference—kept you fixed in place. "Of course," you managed to whisper. The words barely escaping your lips. He sensed that this wasn’t the time nor place to dig deeper so he resolved to keep his words simple. He would find you later when you weren’t busy working. He truly needed to apologize to you.

After he left the weight of the encounter settled heavily upon you. You felt a mix of relief at having avoided direct confrontation and a deep-seated guilt for your evasion. You knew this wasn't just about professional duties. It was about the fractures within a team, a family you had grown to cherish.

Later, as the healer’s quarters quieted and the evening settled in, Cassian found you in the gardens, where the night’s cool air seemed to echo the chill in your own thoughts. It was your favorite place to relax and unwind. Your sanctuary in the chaos that was the Night Court. He approached with a confident stride despite his recent injury and his expression was serious.

"Hey," he started. His voice carrying a hint of his usual directness mixed with concern. "Things were off between you and Az today. He’s worried, and frankly, so am I. We’ve all had our rough patches, but we don’t let that drive a wedge between us. Yeah?"

You paused, looking down at your growing herbs rather than meeting his gaze. You let out a soft sigh before answering him. "I’m just scared, Cass. I’m worried I’ll say the wrong thing again. It’s like... I’m tiptoeing around landmines with him. How do I even start to fix that?"

Cassian nodded. His features softening slightly. "Az can be intense. I won’t argue with that. But he’s also one of the most upright guys I know. Just be honest with him. Tell him you’re trying to avoid making things worse. He respects straightforwardness. Always has." He took a step closer, lowering his voice. "And remember, it’s not just about avoiding the landmines. It’s about clearing the field. Start with the truth. It’s always been the best foundation for us here, no matter how hard it might be."

You nodded appreciating his words. He was right. The truth got you so much further. "Thanks, Cass," you replied feeling a resolve begin to form. "I think I’ll talk to him. Just lay everything out."

"That’s the way," Cassian said with a brief nod. "We’re all here together, and we keep no secrets... save Azriel,” He smirked knowing that’s likely what got the two of you in the situation in the first place. “At least not the kind that hurt. If you're honest, he’ll listen. And if there’s anyone who can understand the value of facing hard truths, it’s Azriel."

As Cassian left you to your thoughts the weight on your shoulders didn't lift entirely but you felt more prepared to face the challenge ahead. Honesty would be your approach; you would share your fears with Azriel, hoping that it would bridge the gap between you. After all, in the Night Court, even the darkest shadows were faced together, not alone.

The next night you found yourself back in the serene confines of your herb garden where the evening light softened the edges of each leaf and petal. You were deeply absorbed in tending to a cluster of chamomile. The quiet focus on your plants provided a necessary reprieve from the swirling anxieties that had occupied your thoughts lately. However, your calm shattered when a shadow loomed unexpectedly over you. Azriel.

Startled, you looked up, only to find him standing there watching you with a curiosity you’d never seen from him before. His sudden presence was imposing and unexpectedly close and sent a rush of panic through you. His height and the intensity in his eyes seemed to fill the space making the air around you feel thinner.

"Oh! Azriel, you surprised me! I didn’t hear you walk over," you blurted out. A nervous chuckle escaping you as you hastily tried to gather your scattered wits. "I was just, um, focusing here, and—you know, plants don’t really talk back, so I guess I wasn't expecting any company."

He paused after noting your discomfort. "I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you," he said gently. His voice a soothing rumble. "I came to apologize. For the last time we spoke. I was too harsh. It was unfair to you."

Your response tumbled out in a rush. Your words tripping over each other. "No, no, it’s fine, really. I mean, not fine fine, but you know… I should’ve been more aware or something. I’m usually not this jumpy, I swear. Maybe a little—actually, maybe a lot right now because, well, you're kind of, um, imposing? And this wasn’t how I imagined our next conversation going..."

Azriel’s slight smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, but it did appear to carry a hint of amusement at your rambling. "I appreciate you saying that, but truly, I am the one who should be apologizing. I’ve thought a lot about what I said... and I regret it deeply. You didn’t deserve that." He took another step toward you as you stood.

You swallowed hard trying to steady your racing heart. "Why are you apologizing now?" you managed to ask feeling suddenly very aware of how close he was standing. The question felt bold, but your voice was anything but confident.

He took a slight step back giving you a bit more space. "Because I realized I might have made you feel unwelcome or undervalued here and that’s… that’s the last thing I want. We all need to support each other, and I failed in that moment. I want to make it right if you’ll let me."

Your mind raced with every thought, but you nodded feeling a mix of apprehension and relief. "I... yeah, I’d like that. I’ve been feeling a bit lost here. Like maybe I don’t belong. It’s been tough, and, well, your words stung. But maybe, I don’t know, maybe we can start over? Try to understand each other a bit more?" As you offered him a tentative smile the garden seemed to return to its peaceful state. The earlier tension dissipating slightly.

Azriel’s gaze softened with a rare flicker of amusement lighting his eyes as he noticed your unease. "You handle the complexities of healing with such ease," he commented with a slight tease in his voice, "yet you seem quite disarmed by a rather simple conversation."

You gave a small self-conscious laugh appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, it's one thing to deal with herbs and potions. They tend not to talk back. It's another to navigate apologies and emotions. Especially with someone who usually keeps his cards so close to his chest."

He smiled and it transformed his face, softening the usual stern lines. "Fair enough," he conceded. Then, his expression turned more serious. The playful glint replaced by a depth of sincerity. "I really am sorry, though. For everything. I know I keep saying it, but it’s because I mean it. I’ve been... difficult towards you these last few years. And I don’t want to burden you with the things I’ve carried. Of the decisions I've had to make. It’s not your weight to bear."

You listened, understanding dawning as you saw the heavy cloak of responsibility he wore. Something that was so integral to his identity yet so isolating. "Maybe not," you replied softly, "but sharing those burdens doesn’t mean you're passing them on. It just means you’re not alone with them anymore. We can share without it being a burden. Sometimes, sharing is how we heal."

Azriel looked at you with something like wonder flickering in his gaze. "I suppose you’re right," he admitted. "It’s just not easy for me. I’ve always thought keeping my troubles to myself was a way to protect others. But maybe... maybe I’ve been wrong about that." The conversation deepened as each of you explored the nuances of forgiveness and the strength found in mutual understanding and empathy. Azriel learned about the power of vulnerability. Not as a spymaster but as a man. And he saw how your empathy and gentle nature enriched the court in ways that strategy and strength could not.

"I've kept many secrets," Azriel confessed. His voice a soft murmur against the backdrop of rustling leaves. "Not because I enjoy the solitude but because I fear the consequences of those secrets unraveling."

"You don’t have to tell me everything," you assured him. "Just knowing that you trust me enough to admit you have these secrets is a step. We all have secrets Azriel. What matters is how we face them and who stands with us when we do."

Azriel nodded. The corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he smiled. A real smile that reached his eyes. "Thank you for understanding."

You nodded but still felt a nagging question at the bottom of your heart. The gardens around you seemed to hold their breath as you voiced a concern that had been shadowing your thoughts. "Azriel, back when you... when you were upset. You called me 'healer.' Is that… is that all you see me as?" Your insecurity got the better of you. The question sounded so much more childish as you asked it aloud, but you needed to know the answer.

Azriel’s expression changed instantly. The regret in his eyes unmistakable. "Gods, I am so sorry, Y/N. I was angry and overwhelmed and I unfairly took it out on you." His voice was thick with remorse. His usual stoicism giving way to a rare openness. "You are so much more than just a healer to us, to me. I should never have made you feel otherwise." Seeing the sincerity in his gaze you felt a complex knot of emotions begin to untangle. Yet, there was still a shadow of sadness in your eyes. A remnant of the hurt his words had caused.

Noticing this, Azriel did something completely unexpected. He stepped closer. His presence enveloping you whole, and hesitantly, almost awkwardly he opened his arms. "May I?" he asked softly giving you the choice.

With a small nod you stepped into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. It was a rare gesture from him as he was known for his guarded nature. It spoke volumes of his regret and his desire to make amends. His shadows ever a part of him, seemed to curl around the both of you gently. A comforting whisper against your skin.

As you stood there held in his careful embrace Azriel spoke again, his voice gentler than you had ever heard. "I’m truly sorry, Y/N. For everything. I let my anger and frustrations dictate my actions and you bore the brunt of that. I promise you this, I will do better. You deserve better."

Pulling back slightly he looked down into your eyes, ensuring you could see the truth in his. "Thank you for giving me the chance to apologize, to make things right. I don’t take your forgiveness lightly."

Your heart that was once heavy with doubt and hurt now fluttered with a burgeoning sense of renewed connection. "Thank you, Azriel, for understanding, for this," you said, your voice steady despite the emotions brimming within.

This conversation that was once a tentative path to reconciliation had blossomed into something deeper. A genuine connection fostered by understanding and shared vulnerabilities. Azriel's willingness to show his softer side, to bridge the gap with both an apology and a hug, marked a new chapter in your relationship. One filled with potential for even greater understanding and closeness. Together in the quiet of the herb garden you both began to navigate a path toward healing. Your relationship strengthened by the honesty and empathy of your exchange. It was a tentative step forward. One filled with potential for deeper understanding and a strengthened connection.

As the weeks turned into months, the atmosphere between you and Azriel visibly shifted. You both continued with your roles at the Night Court—Azriel, cloaked in shadows as the spymaster, and you, weaving magic and medicine as a healer. The sharp edges of earlier interactions softened replaced by a mutual respect and an unspoken understanding that grew with each passing day.

One evening during a relaxed gathering at the Night Court, the air was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the warm laughter of friends and allies. Under the gentle glow of twilight you found yourself beside Azriel discussing something that excited you greatly—a plan for a new herb garden specifically designed for healing and restorative properties.

As you outlined your ideas your enthusiasm was palpable. "I’ve been researching some rare herbs that could thrive here under the Night’s eternal stars," you explained with your hands gesturing animatedly. "There’s this one flower, Lumina Blossom, known for its potent healing capabilities with poison but incredibly rare. I think with the right care, we could cultivate it here."

Azriel watched you with a soft smile playing on his lips as he listened intently. The usual shadows that clung to him seemed to lift slightly instead replaced by a light of curiosity sparked by your passion. It was a stark contrast to the brooding intensity he was known for. His gaze was fixed on you, clearly fascinated by your knowledge and the excitement that lit up your features.

"Have you considered adding Dawnlight Belle to your garden?" he suggested. His tone encouraging but slightly hesitant, as if he were treading on unfamiliar ground. "I've heard it's a good one. Especially for salves used in treating deep wounds, which unfortunately, we encounter often here."

You paused, your expression a mix of surprise and delight. "Azriel, I'm impressed you’ve heard of Dawnlight Belle," you said while nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, it's remarkably effective for healing deep wounds and incorporating it here would indeed be incredibly beneficial. It's also a bit of home but with a practical use for the Night Court."

Azriel’s smile widened slightly. His usual reserve melting away in the warmth of the conversation. "I thought it might be useful," he said softly. "It’s important to have pieces of home with us. And you’ve done so much to find your place here. It’s only fitting your garden does the same."

The conversation flowed easily between you as it slowly had come to. And as you spoke more about your plans Azriel's responses were thoughtful, showing his deep respect for your work. It was clear that he was not only listening but also truly engaged in what you were sharing.

As the evening wore on you found yourself more relaxed and open to discussing your hopes and dreams for the garden. Azriel's attentiveness and the sincere interest he showed in your passions brought a new depth to your interaction. A sense that something meaningful was blossoming between you, rooted in mutual respect and a shared sense of purpose.

Together you sketched out potential layouts for the garden. His strategic mind complementing your creative vision. The project that was born from a casual conversation was shaping up to be a beautiful symbol of regeneration and unity. It was a confirmation to the growing relationship forming between you as you both discovered the joy of collaboration and mutual understanding.

From across the way Cassian caught Rhysand and Feyre’s attention, nodding subtly towards you and Azriel with a wide grin. "Look at that," he chuckled. "Seems our resident shadowsinger has found a bit of light. Never thought I’d see the day."

Rhys, with a sly grin and a sparkle in his eye that matched the mischief in his voice, glanced over at you two. "Oh, I’d say there’s a bit more than just gardening going on there," he quipped as he leaned back with an air of casual intrigue. "Wouldn’t you agree, Cass? Feyre? It seems our spymaster might just be more enchanted with our lovely healer than he lets on."

Cassian laughed. His loud voice booming across the room. "You're one to talk, Rhys. Just don’t start planning their mating ceremony yet. Let them at least decide if they like each other first."

Feyre, who had been quietly observing the exchange from her place next to Rhysand, chuckled and shook her head. "She seems so good for him I must admit. But don't you dare meddle, Rhysand. We know how that turns out," she teased. Her eyes gleaming with humor. "Remember the Great Cake Incident of '49?"

The group erupted into laughter, including Rhys, who rolled his eyes but couldn't suppress a grin. "Alright, alright, no meddling," he conceded. His voice still laced with laughter. "But for the record, that cake deserved better and meddling here would only help them."

The evening continued with the stars twinkling above as conversations flowed around the room. Your interaction with Azriel, now less guarded and more genuine, did not go unnoticed by those who knew him best. As the night deepened, the easy banter and shared smiles between you and Azriel spoke of something that was quietly strengthening. It was clear to everyone, even without Rhysand’s playful meddling, that something significant was blossoming. Something that went beyond the professional respect of two court members.

Together, you and Azriel discovered that even in a place as mystical and imposing as the Night Court, the true magic lay not just in ancient spells or hidden power but in the connections forged through vulnerability, trust, and perhaps, the beginnings of something deeper.

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[welcometotheshitshxw]

Hello,

Eris doing his daughter's hair, making pigtails and tying them with ribbons that match her hair colour. Then baby girl Eris doing his hair cause she wants them to match while his mate watches from the doorway with a soft smile on his face cause Eris was scared of turning into his dad but is literally so much better.

Goodbye <3

[welcometotheshitshxw]

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now. 

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor. 

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep. 

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it. 

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object. 

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke. 

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence. 

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down. 

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes. 

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful. 

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home. 

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you. 

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter. 

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out. 

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.” 

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—” 

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant. 

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow. 

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.” 

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud. 

“Long day?” 

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.” 

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” 

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.” 

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop. 

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?” 

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers. 

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.” 

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.” 

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands. 

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.” 

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.” 

You blinked once. Twice. 

“Pardon?” 

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.” 

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.” 

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.” 

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon. 

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked. 

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.” 

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey. 

“What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.” 

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him. 

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses. 

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early. 

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs. 

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart. 

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz. 

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Do you feel safe with me?” 

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside. 

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.” 

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

[welcometotheshitshxw]

Headcanon: Nyx’s favorite “uncle” is Eris (he’s used to taking care of younger siblings and pets, the guys got a secret soft side). Eris doesn’t know how this happened. It pisses off the entire inner circle. Lucien is highly amused.