Azriel Fic Recs - Tumblr Posts

The Quiet Ones | Azriel x reader

Summary: After 500 years spent searching for her, Azriel randomly stumbles upon his mate one day in the marketplace.

A/N: I finally got around to writing this ask by the lovely @ang-taylorsversion and I hope you like it! I really love how the beginning turned out, though I’m worried the ending might feel a bit rushed. I’ll proofread tomorrow… maybe…

Word count: 3851

Warnings: Smut is very briefly/vaguely touched upon

-

Azriel kept mostly to the shadows of an alley as his eyes tracked the bustling marketplace before him in search of a gift Mor wouldn’t return within the first week of the new year. Granted, there was still plenty of time to find something, what with Solstice being a little over three months away, but if the last 500 years had taught him anything at all, it was to start his search sooner rather than later to avoid desperate last-minute purchases that would only end up forgotten at the bottom of one of her drawers.

Every year he came here, and every year he saw himself faced with the fact that it got increasingly difficult to buy something for a person he’d already spent some 500 Solstices with. But he came here anyway, and when he did, he endured the crowds, and he kept to himself, because however much he loved this city—its people had never truly warmed to him.

Which was exactly the reason he failed to suppress a flinch when, out of nowhere, a voice tore him from his thoughts.

“Hello there!”

His head whipped around, and Azriel shot a bewildered glance at the faerie woman that had randomly appeared at his side, somehow utterly escaping his notice. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had willingly addressed him in public, let alone got close enough to even spot him. He was the Night Court’s spymaster. Technically… he’d been laying low just now.

He blinked, and she must’ve noticed the flash of surprise that had flitted across his features before he’d been able to school his face back into the carefully neutral expression he’d already perfected as a child.

She smiled, and Azriel’s eyes tracked the way her lips stretched as she did so. The skin by her eyes crinkled with amusement, and Azriel followed her hairline to spot the graceful tip of a pointed ear. She was… very beautiful.

He cleared his throat at the thought.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you—oh!” her words gave way to a delighted little laugh, and Azriel watched in horror as she lifted her hand to reveal his shadows winding their way around her wrist, threading through delicate fingers to curl up her arm.

He took a step back, calling his shadows with him as he went. “Forgive me,” he said, a little breathless with surprise. He couldn’t deny the heat that crawled up the back of his neck in embarrassment. “They don’t usually do that.”

“That’s okay.” She chuckled when a remaining, shadowy tendril brushed along her cheek as though in a gentle caress. Azriel flicked his wrist, and it disappeared. “They’re sweet.”

He blinked.

Sweet.

“They don’t usually are,” he said, doing his best at maintaining a neutral tone in the face of this faerie that hadn’t shied away at the touch of his shadows and somehow still looked at him like he was the sole centre of her attention.

She gave another beaming smile, and Azriel cleared his throat again.

“I’ll consider myself lucky then,” she said, and the way she kept her eyes on him—the curious gleam as they moved across his face as though to memorise every detail—it seemed almost… intimate.

Azriel’s eyes darted down at a stray shadow winding its way towards her foot, and he huffed as he took yet another step back. What was up with his shadows today?

“You’re Azriel, right?” she asked, and when he lifted his eyes back to the strange faerie, he had to force himself to keep his cool beneath her attentive gaze. “The spymaster?”

He tilted his head, and she elaborated. “I just—I don’t suppose there are that many shadow-wielding Illyrians walking around Velaris.”

At her words, a thought entered Azriel’s mind, and his eyes darted around the marketplace in search of anyone watching this encounter. Perhaps this was a trap of some sort. A distraction.

Perhaps she was to throw him off guard for unknown foes to attack.

“I’m Y/N,” she went on, seemingly accepting that she wouldn’t be getting an answer to her question any time soon. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I just spotted you from that booth over there, and the bond snapped, and so I thought I’d come over and introduce myself before you vanished.”

Azriel noted a few people looking their way, though most were brief glances in passing and none of them really looked like they were planning to attack anytime soo—

His head whipped back around.

“What?”

Her eyes tracked his reaction, and for the first time since she showed up, her smile shrank the smallest fraction, and a barely-there hint of uncertainty sneaked its way onto her face.

“I… didn’t mean to offend—”

“No,” he interrupted, taking half a step forward to bridge some of the distance he’d created earlier. “No, I mean… what did you just say?”

“Oh, the bond?” Her face returned to the chipper expression she’d been carrying since she spoke her first word to him. “Yeah, I felt it snap when I saw you. Nearly knocked me off my feet.”

Azriel stared at her. He tracked her features, more thorough this time, and he recognised her attentiveness for what it was—curiosity. She’d wanted to memorise the face of her mate, find out who it was she’d just been bonded to.

Azriel remained frozen where he stood, and as he lost his grip on his shadows, a few of them darted back to her skin; sliding against her neck, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She giggled, and suddenly her laugh shot right down Azriel’s spine.

Mate. He had a mate.

He’d waited 500 years. He’d loved, and he’d lost, and he could write the damn book on unrequited love, and through it all, he had spent hours and days and years wondering what his mate would be like. He’d had lovers, sure, though none of them had been the one, and as he’d gone through his centuries of life without a trace of the one whose soul was supposed to match his, he had begun to doubt he even had a mate.

He'd longed for this very moment countless of times, but as he frantically searched his brain for all the scenarios he’d dreamt up, and all the possible ways he’d pictured this moment to go, standing in front of her now, he found his tongue had been glued to the roof of his mouth.

She tilted her head as he stared at her, unblinking.

“Yeah, that was me about ten minutes ago.” The look in her eyes softened. “Would you like to go somewhere and talk?”

-

There was no person in the entirety of the Night Court that Cassian knew better than Azriel. They had known each other since they were kids, they’d grown up together, even fought together. He’d known him for some 500 years, which was time enough to notice when his brother behaved oddly.

Cassian watched closely as Azriel ate with his eyes trained on his plate. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something about the Shadowsinger was… off. And it had been for a while now.

Only last week, Azriel had vanished right after sunrise when usually that was the time they began their first training of the day. He hadn’t returned until late afternoon and when he did, he’d seemed somehow… blurry. Like his mind was somewhere else, his head carried in the clouds.

As a matter of fact, he’d carried a similar expression as he did now.

“You’re being weird,” Cassian blurted through a mouthful of meat.

Azriel lifted his eyes without lifting his head, giving Cassian a look. When the latter just stared back without saying anything, Azriel raised a brow.

“Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know.” Cassian shrugged. “You seem… different. And I can’t figure out what it is.”

Azriel hummed and returned to his food. “You’re imagining things.”

Cassian narrowed his eyes, never taking them from Azriel, even as he noted the way the shadowsinger’s shoulders stiffened beneath his stare.

Azriel cleared his throat and rose from where he’d sat facing Cassian, his meal not yet finished. “I have to go.”

“You’ve been gone a lot lately.” Cassian watched closely as Azriel made his way to the kitchen, unceremoniously dumping the remainder of his food in the trash and his dishes in the sink. “Where are you off to?”

A beat of silence passed before Azriel answered, and Cassian took it as a sign that his brother was calculating his answers more thorough than usual. “Town.”

“What are you doing in town?”

Azriel gave an exasperated sigh. “Aren’t I supposed to be the spymaster of this court?”

“I wouldn’t have to spy if you told me what was going on.” An unsettling thought entered Cassian’s mind as he stood to follow his brother to the door. “Are there problems in Velaris that I don’t know of?”

“No, brother,” Azriel slapped his hand on Cassian’s shoulder. “Everything’s perfect in Velaris. Do not worry.”

It was only when he turned to leave that something in the air shifted, and Cassian’s nostrils flared before his face fell and he locked a stare on his brother that had Azriel stop in his tracks.

“Cauldron boil me,” Cassian muttered, unblinking as he stared at Azriel with wide eyes. “How could you not tell me?”

All of a sudden, and while Azriel remained utterly silent, a third voice appeared behind Cassian.

“Not tell you what?” Rhysand asked as he strolled into the room, a curious note in his tone and hands buried in the pockets of his sweatpants.

The look in Azriel’s eyes sharpened ever so slightly, but Cassian uttered the words before the spymaster could do anything to stop him.

“Azriel has found his mate.” 

-

Azriel had never been on an actual date before, which was… shocking, considering he’d been alive for five whole centuries.

Most of his past conquests had been in-the-moment flings; brief flames that burned out as quickly as they’d started. Some had sprung from loose friendships, most from strangers, and some had originated from just the usual proximity that had come with the war camp barracks.

He’d never actually… dated before.

The past weeks had gone by in a heartbeat. Days spent with this beautiful stranger who’d sought him out at the market, and hours passing as though the world lay in a blur and she was the sole point of his focus. He’d found out things about her—trivial things, one might say, though to him each little detail she laid bare felt like it contributed to the very air he breathed.

When she laughed, he felt his toes tingle, and whenever she touched him, however small the touch might have been, his heart picked up its pace.

He’d never been on a first date before, let alone a second, a third, a fourth. And he was glad he hadn’t, because all those past lovers, no matter how lovely, or kind, or beautiful they might have been, would ever have compared to the way he felt whenever she opened the door to meet him with bright eyes.

“Why, hello there, handsome stranger,” she grinned, tilting her head in the way she always did when she waited to see how he’d react to her words.

Azriel gave a smile and stepped into the apartment he’d gotten to know well in the course of the last few weeks.

He’d barely turned around when she closed the door and looped her arms around his neck, standing on the very tips of her toes. Azriel loved this part.

He bent down to catch her lips with his and gave a sigh as though stepping into the warm water of a bath. He could feel her smile into the kiss, and it was one of his many favourite things about her. Each one of their kisses so far had been laced with a smile, and he never seemed to get enough of it.

When she pulled back, Azriel felt his own smile grow.

“You’re late,” she hummed, running her fingers through the hair on the back of his head while her eyes flitted across his face only to rest on his lips for a few seconds longer.

Azriel tightened the arms he kept slung around her waist, pulling her close enough for her breath to hitch.

He felt the incredible urge to close his eyes when her nails began to gently scratch his scalp, and a part of him never wanted to leave here again. She was everything he’d dreamt of for all those years, everything and so much more.

“Cassian has been getting on my nerves again,” he mumbled, turning his head to the side to breath a kiss to the soft skin of her arm.

Ever since the mating bond had snapped for Azriel too, and his brother had found out about it only days later, Cassian had come to adopt all the features of a textbook pain in the ass.

She chuckled. “He really is nosy. I can’t wait to meet him.”

Now Azriel was the one to tilt his head. “You want to meet them?”

“Well, of course,” she seemed amused by his surprise. “They’re your family. Were you not going to introduce me sooner or later?”

“I’d… love to,” Azriel said, and meant it.

“But?”

He hesitated, gently lowering her arms from his shoulders to wrap his fingers around her wrists and hold her hands to his chest. There once again lay that spark of curiosity in her eyes—open, and kind, and interested in every word he’d say.

“Well,” he started. “I’d want you to be… sure first.” She blinked, waiting for him to continue, and Azriel exhaled through his nose. “Of this… of us.”

She stared at him for a while, and Azriel half expected her to laugh, but the smile she finally gave was soft.

“You think I’m not certain yet?”

Azriel held her gaze. “It’s a big commitment, and I’m—”

“You’re my mate,” she said, her tone final. “And even if you weren’t my mate, I’d be sure of it. I’d be so sure of it, Azriel, because I love you.”

Azriel felt each of his muscles freeze, his lungs coming to a sudden stop as he stared at her—at this woman, this faerie that had entered his life like a summer storm.

“You—”

“I love you,” she said, her eyes alight with amusement. “Honestly, I thought it was obvious by now. You’re very easy to love, Azriel.”

Never in his 500 years had anyone ever said something like that to him.

He still hadn’t moved when she cleared her throat and gently took her hands from where he held them against his chest. Instead, she took his arm and signalled him with a nudge to turn around.

“I planned this much smoother,” she chuckled as he lay eyes on her tiny kitchen table. “But be that as it may. I made it for you.”

Azriel’s eyes fixed on the plate loaded with food, and his mind emptied.

“I planned to bake those tarts you liked when I dragged you to my friend’s bakery, but as it turns out, I suck at baking.”

Azriel swallowed thickly, not taking his eyes of the set table. A single candle burned in its centre.

When he spoke, his voice was low. “You’re aware of—”

“Aware of the fact that this will mean I’m accepting the bond?” She lifted her hand to his cheek to gently turn his head to the side so that she could look at him. The pad of her thumb ran a soft line along his cheekbone. “Very much so.”

Azriel didn’t know what to say. He was so overcome with emotion that all he could do was stare at the woman he’d come to love within the few short weeks he’d known her.

She studied his expression when he remained silent. “I want you to know that it’s okay if you’re not ready yet. We can postpone, maybe slow do—”

“I love you.” Azriel rasped, fingers once again wrapping around the wrist of the hand she held against his cheek. “I don’t ever want to be parted from you. You, accepting me as your mate… it is the biggest honour of my life.”

The smile took over her face now, and the kiss they shared felt like the start of a life even better than the one Azriel had dared to hope for.

When he sat to eat, she kept her eyes on him, and when he was finished, he felt the glow in her chest mirror his own.

All of a sudden, heat began to surge through his veins, and he gripped the edge of the table to steady himself as he stood.

So, this was what it felt like. Being overcome with desire for the one his soul called out to, the one he was now bonded to for the rest of his existence. Every inch of his skin longed to touch her even more than it had earlier. What had been a mere wish before now was a need—one he saw reflected in her eyes as she rounded the table to meet him in a kiss that set fire to every fibre of his being.

His hands rose to hold her head as she began to tear at his leathers, and Azriel felt that he was sinking deeper into this love he’d harboured for weeks now. He kissed her harder and walked her backwards until her back hit the wall. His hands slipped to mimic hers and tear at the fabric of her clothes.

They hadn’t yet lain with each other, and suddenly Azriel wondered how he hadn’t yet lost his mind with want. He was cautious of every emotion flickering across the bond, attentive when he knelt before her, gentle when he lifted her thighs to his hips, and rough when she needed him to be.

She took over his senses when she dug her nails into his shoulders, when her breath came in choked pants, when he buried himself inside of her over and over again, delighting in the intensity that came with a bond set aflame.

He’d never get enough of her; he was sure of it. And when his name passed her lips in a gasp against the wall, and on the table, and on the couch; and when he loved her with everything that he had all the way to the first sunbeams of the day, he felt her light at the other end of that bond, assuring him that she wouldn’t either.

-

Cassian hadn’t seen Azriel in weeks, and even though Rhys kept assuring him that their brother checked in with him on a regular basis, Cass began to worry. Perhaps he’d badgered Az too much about that mysterious mate of his.

“Cassian,” Rhys sighed from the other end of the breakfast table. “Stop brooding. I assure you, he’s fine.” He exchanged a look with Feyre, who sat next to him, cutting an omelette. She smirked.

“You know something.” Cassian straightened. “Tell me.”

Rhys cleared his throat, but it was Feyre who answered. “Let’s just say that Azriel has probably never been better.”

Cassian huffed at their shared amusement.

It was then that heavy steps rang through the townhouse and Azriel himself appeared in the kitchen door, his shadows nowhere to be seen.

Cassian turned in his chair to face his brother fully. “Where the hell have you—”

“Hello everyone,” an unfamiliar voice suddenly spoke, and a pretty fae woman squeezed past Azriel to stumble into the kitchen, beaming at them all. “It’s so nice to finally meet you. Azriel has told me so much about you!”

She seemed like a chipper little thing, and Cassian’s mouth snapped shut as he noticed the shadows twirling around her arms. So that’s where they’d gone.

Azriel cleared his throat and stepped forward. “Cassian,” he said. “Rhys, Feyre. This is Y/N.” He turned to look at the woman standing beside him, and his gaze softened the way Cassian had never seen before. “My mate.”

Silence fell over the kitchen as the word passed his lips, though Feyre was the first to snap out of it, rising from her seat to bridge the distance and throw her arms around the newest addition to their little circle.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said. “Azriel has told us absolutely nothing about you!”

Y/N laughed as she returned the High Lady’s hug, and Cassian watched her throw Azriel a wink over her shoulder.

“Well as pretty as he is, I’ve found that he’s not much of a talker.”

Cassian couldn’t believe his eyes when Azriel—his shadow-wielding, spymaster, has-fought-in-multiple-wars brother—blushed. He could hear Rhys snicker, and a shit-eating grin split Cassian’s face in two.

Rhys rose from his seat now, too, and when he came to face his brother’s mate, she lay her head back to look up at him. He bowed his head. “A pleasure meeting you, Y/N. We’re overjoyed to welcome you into our family.”

“The pleasure’s all mine,” she grinned. “My, my, Azriel, you have such well-mannered friends.”

The spymaster grumbled deep in his chest. “Give them a minute.”

She chuckled and turned to face the third one.

“You must be Cassian, then.” She tilted her head, a mischievous spark in her eyes. “I heard you’re quite the gossip.”

Cassian’s mouth flew open in outrage. “Am not!”

“Oh please,” Feyre laughed. “You’re the worst gossip I know.”

He huffed when his friends shared amused looks and rose from his seat to inspect this strange faerie with narrowed eyes.

“So,” he started, crossing his arms over his chest. “You live in Velaris, then?”

She gave a single, enthusiastic nod and crossed her arms behind her back as she straightened her shoulders and bounced on the balls of her feet. “Born and raised.”

“Got any dark secrets we should know about?”

“Well… I once stole a banana from my best friend’s lunchbox.”

Feyre snorted.

“Any bloodthirsty exes?”

“All ranging from harmless to mildly annoying.”

“Still hung up on one of them?”

“Nope.”

“How’d you and Az meet?”

“At the market.”

“Accepted the bond yet?”

“Are you kidding?” she all but gasped and inclined her head towards where Azriel stood with his back as straight as a pole. “Have you seen this tall drink of water? How could I not?”

Rhys snorted, Feyre giggled, and when Cassian looked at Azriel with a shit-eating grin edged into his features, he delighted in the look on the spymaster’s face.

Azriel blinked, speechless. There was once again a distinct tinge of red crawling up from beneath the collar of his leathers, and Cassian might have squealed with excitement.

When he turned back to this woman that had apparently cracked the solid exterior of his shadow-wielding brother, he failed to wipe the grin off his face.

“I think I like her.”

Of Oblivious Minds

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You're positive Azriel is in love with Elain. It seems so obvious. But Cassian is laughing at you and suddenly nothing makes quite so much sense anymore.

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: Pining, yearning, idiots in love?? (an angsty moment as well)

a/n: What am I doing!! I don't know!! This is part one and there will be one or two more parts :) Thank you for reading ily ♡

~~

You were having an epiphany—of that you were certain. 

Sitting in the main room of the townhouse, a glass of wine spinning in your hand, many things were beginning to make sense to you. It was ridiculous that you hadn’t come to this realization before. All of the hints were right in front of you. 

You leaned back in the armchair, a scrutinizing gaze pointed toward the corner of the room. You took a sip of your wine—a contemplative sip—and then ran through the facts in your head. Yes, it made perfect sense. 

You wanted to kick yourself for not noticing before. 

“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard.” Cassian’s voice startled you out of your thoughts. You blinked up at him as he took a seat on the arm of your chair. “Want to share why you’re staring a hole into the wall?” 

“I was just… noticing something,” you murmured over the rim of your glass, voice low. 

“And what’s that?” 

You paused, pursing your lips. It would sound silly if you were wrong. But Cassian looked at you expectantly, so you simply whispered, “I think Az is in love with Elain.” 

The sudden, rumbling laugh bouncing off the walls set your cheeks ablaze. The entire room halted their conversations to look at Cassian as he doubled over, holding his stomach with no signs of letting up. You stared up at him, mortified, and smacked his arm as his laughs lowered into senseless chuckles. 

“Cassian, quit it. It’s not that funny—stop it or I’ll hit you again.” 

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he laughed, wiping a tear from his eye. “Sorry, that was just… that was a good one, y/n.” 

“What’d she say?” Rhys asked, perking up from the other side of the fireplace. 

“Nothing to warrant that reaction,” you grumbled, sinking lower into your seat. 

Fighting back the vibrations in his chest, Cassian took a deep breath. “Inside joke, Rhys. You wouldn’t get it.” 

Rhys huffed out an offended breath, quirking a brow at his antics. He looked to Mor and Feyre to garner some support, but they only giggled back at him. 

“Maybe we would.” 

Azriel’s gravelly tone only made you collapse further into the armchair. If you’d known there would be consequences to sharing your epiphany with Cassian, you would have kept your mouth shut. Cassian was usually wonderful at keeping secrets. 

“Oh, brother, you’d find it funny as well, surely,” Cassian shared, heaving up from the chair. “But, alas, I have to go. No inside jokes for the room.” 

“Well that’s not fair. You don’t get to cause a riot and then leave,” Mor whined, her cheeks rosy and her eyes glassy. Clearly, she had been having her own drinks throughout the night. 

“Lovely. Now you want to know? Where was that attitude while you were giggling with my mate?” Rhys accused. 

Feyre jumped in this time, pinching the high lord’s cheek and cooing, “Oh, you big Illyrian baby.” 

The focus was no longer on you and your apparently laughable realization. Cassian’s reaction did little to deter you from the thought, however, and you were still quite resolute in your observations. Looking over at the couple in question only solidified that. 

They were huddled close, Elain’s knees pressed against Azriel’s thigh as they spoke in low tones. Azriel would occasionally take a glance around the room, lingering on you as he went, but that was natural for the shadowsinger. His shadows were gone, where they went you had no idea, and his wings were held tightly behind his back. 

And he stared at her—intently—as she nodded her head and answered whatever it was he had asked. 

He had to be in love with her. 

You were usually quite good at reading these types of things. 

“I’m taking you home now,” Cassian spoke, holding out his hand. “We’ll walk.” 

“What if I don’t want to go home?” you asked, taking his hand and following him despite your words. 

“After all that nonsense, I think it’s clear you need a good night’s rest. Plus, you and I are in the ring bright and early tomorrow morning.” 

You groaned, knocking your head back at the reminder of your obligations. It always sounded like such a good idea over breakfast. Cassian had clearly learned that you would only say yes to early morning trainings when you were half-asleep. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go, sweetheart.” 

You let him yank you to the door, your feet dragging behind you, when a warmth encased your shoulders. You recognized the material of your coat instantly and turned to see Azriel smoothing it down over your arms. 

“For your walk,” Azriel quietly explained. “You left it on the back of my chair.” 

“Oh!” you chirped, feeling the early licks of embarrassment barrage your chest. It’s not like he heard you talking about him, right? “Thanks, Az. I almost forgot.” 

He offered you one of his soft, rare smiles. “I know. I remembered.” 

He nodded over your head to Cassian after that, and you heard Cassian’s low, I got her, Az, only because you strained your ears. 

You ended up being extremely grateful for Azriel’s forethought to grab your jacket. It was freezing outside. You could have winnowed home instead, but Cassian hadn’t really given you the option and no one ever let you winnow after you’d had something to drink. 

You landed in Summer Court one time and suddenly everyone treated you like a hazard. 

Your shoes scuffed against dark cobblestone as you walked. It was really dark, now that you looked at it. Maybe it had rained? Or a merchant had dumped their excess water? 

Or maybe it was nighttime and you were a little drunk. 

It was then that you noticed the silence. When Cassian walked you home, especially when Cassian was tipsy and he walked you home, he never shut up. So this was unusual. You squinted as you looked up at him, but he gave nothing away, keeping his gaze forward and his steps in steady pace with your own. 

“Okay, out with it,” you accused, crossing your arms over your chest. “What was so funny earlier? And why are you walking me home all stoic?” 

“I’m always stoic. Adds to my charm.” 

“Liar.” 

Cassian smirked, shaking his head, and then schooled his expression into one that was a touch more serious. “You really think Az likes Elain?” 

You watched your breath puff out white. “Don’t you?” 

“No, I don’t.” 

You shot him a skeptical glance. “Well, then you’re wrong. I’m good at picking these things out. I knew Feyre was Rhys’s made before the rest of you figured it out, didn’t I?”

“It was pretty obvious, y/n,” Cassian scoffed. He took a fleeting glance down to the ground beneath your feet. “Honestly, I’d wager that you’re actually the worst at picking these things out.”  

You gaped at him, bringing your coat closer to your body in a ploy to protect your damaged pride. Cassian only shook his head—again—and then flung an arm over your shoulder. 

“Don’t take that the wrong way. Just…take a second look, maybe.” 

“A second look at what? She was practically sitting in his lap tonight.” 

“If you say so,” Cassian hummed. 

“Stop being cryptic and buy me a snack on the way.” 

~~

The following days were… strange to say the least. 

Everywhere you went, Elain of all people was sure to follow.

And she spoke of Azriel. A lot. 

Azriel did this and Az is so sweet isn’t he and oh, did I mention that…

Obviously, she was just as in love with Azriel as he was with her. 

You were so, so right. 

There was something off-putting about that truth, but you couldn’t put your finger on why. After a few days of hearing the younger girl rave about the shadowsinger, you chalked it up to the novelty of it all. You had known Azriel for over a century, and things were changing. Of course a serious love interest in his life would make you feel strange. 

Azriel had had lovers in the past, but—now that you thought about it—you hadn’t heard him talk about another woman in months, much less seen him with one. 

Well, other than Elain. 

Perhaps it wasn’t healthy, nor productive, to be so caught up in Azriel’s love life. He was plenty capable of managing it on his own, and it’s not like you had that much of an interest, anyway. 

You blinked, shaking your head and attempting to focus back in on the book you were reading. Elain had followed you into the library under the house, but thanks to the priestesses and their admonishing looks, she kept quiet. She flipped through her own book as you continued your research assignment from Rhys. It wasn’t very interesting, which was clearly the most plausible explanation for your mind drifting to Azriel. 

Boring texts were the leading cause of nosiness.

“Do you have dinner plans?” Elain whispered after an hour of silence. 

You sent her a small smile, looking up from the archaic book. “No, are you inviting me out?” 

“Perhaps. I was thinking of asking Azriel.” 

A suffocating sort of pressure clawed at your skin. “Oh?” 

That was new. 

“Yes, but I would really appreciate it if you came,” Elain continued, eyes downcast. “It could be fun.” 

You bit into your bottom lip until the pain was uncomfortable. This was no different than her talking about Azriel all week. And you already figured that they liked each other—that they loved each other. You had relished in the discovery just a few nights ago. 

So why did it suddenly feel so different?

“I wouldn't want to intrude,” you whispered. “I think a dinner with just the two of you would be nice. Azriel would surely agree.” 

Elain shook her head. “I think he would be more inclined if he knew you were coming.” 

As a buffer. She was asking you to come to displace any awkwardness that would arise on a first date. You had done it before for Cassian. You’d done it plenty of times for Mor—even making it a double date with random men you never spoke to again. But you’d never done it for Azriel. 

Something about it felt… wrong. 

“I could come,” you found yourself saying anyway, words tumbling out before you could catch them. “But I really do think he would love a dinner alone. I might be a bit of an outlier.” 

Elain gave the closest thing to a smirk you’d seen on her face. “I somehow doubt that.” 

“What does that—” 

The ground was shaking. The faelights began violently flickering and the ground began shaking with even more vigor. You pressed down on the book in front of you and braced yourself as the air grew frenzied. The priestesses ran down the many stairs of the library as panic began setting into your bones. The last time something like this happened… 

You shuddered at the thought. 

This couldn't be an attack on Velaris. 

Elain called your name. You answered with wide eyes. 

“Get under the tables!”

You both dove beneath your table at the call, clutching at the legs with shaking hands. There was a commotion as books fell from shelves and lights popped, but there were no screams. No one was hurt. There was no attack. 

Realization coursed through you, but it did little to quell your fear as the shaking continued. 

“It’s an earthquake!” you shouted to Elain. “It’s okay, we’re going to be fine!” 

Velaris hadn’t been struck by an earthquake of this magnitude in many, many years. The last one was centuries ago, and it had led to many rebuilding efforts and a handful of injuries. You hoped this wasn’t on the same scale. Or at least that Rhys’ magic was enough to abate the worst of the damages. 

After another moment, the shaking ceased. You let the panic and adrenaline run its course as you caught your breath, Elain right beside you. It didn’t seem so bad now that it was over and the building had stayed intact. With a hand at your chest, you shook your head in disbelief. 

“By the cauldron, that was unexpected.” 

Elain let out a shaky laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt an earthquake before.” 

You offered your own breathy laugh as you both got to your feet. “Well, you have plenty of time to get The Mother scared out of you and experience another.” 

She opened her mouth to reply but was abruptly cut off as shadows materialized. Heavy footsteps rushed up stairs and it was only another beat before Azriel was upon you. Scarred hands cradled your face, turning it back and forth as hazel eyes took in every inch of your skin. Light became sparse as wings flared out behind him, shielding you from nothing.

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, voice still low despite the urgency. “Were you covered?” 

“Azriel? What are you—How did you know we were down here?” 

“Are you hurt?” 

You attempted to reconcile the chaotic present with the very calm, very expected past. Sitting in the library with a boring relic in front of you and a new reading partner compared to an earthquake and a frazzled shadowsinger clutching at your face. 

Gripping his wrists, you answered him with a slow and confused, “I’m fine.” 

He closed his eyes as he let out a long breath. “Good…. good.” 

When he released your face, he ran his hands along your hair. And then your shoulders and your arms. It wasn’t until he had touched most of you that he took a step back and ran a hand through his own hair. It was then that he seemed to remember Elain. 

“And are you alright?” he asked, far more composed than he had been a moment ago. 

“A bit overwhelmed, but I am fine as well,” she sighed out. 

Azriel didn’t touch her as he nodded in relief. 

“Was it as bad as the last one? Is everyone okay?” you cut in. 

Azriel, who had gone back to unnecessarily looking you over, furrowed his brows. “What?” 

You mirrored his expression. “The earthquake. Do you remember the last one? Was this one that bad?” 

“Oh. No. Not as bad.” 

“And how is everyone else?” 

“I’m not sure.” 

Azriel was typically short with his answers, but right now he was being particularly short. And he was never one to not have information. Ever. 

“Are you okay?” you asked instead. 

“I am now.”

You left the library wondering why Azriel had run to you and not Elain—why that moment felt so monumental in the face of all others. 

Maybe being right wasn’t what you wanted anymore. 

But maybe that wasn’t your decision to make. 

Seen

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: possible swearing but this is mainly just fluff, maybe a splash of sexual tension but I love a good slow burn when it comes to azzyboy

summary: Nosy by nature, you follow a few stray shadows somewhere you know you don’t belong—better not get caught

—

You shouldn’t be here.

You definitely shouldn’t be here.

But everytime you stopped, tried to turn back and go where you came, those little shadows stopped you. Wrapping around your legs like snakes, pulling at your clothes and gently pushing you forward down a dark hallway with only one door.

You knew you shouldn’t have touched it.

But the little shadows twisted the knob for you, door opening with a slow creek.

“Absolutely not,” You say to the hovering shadow, unsure if it could understand you but the way it curled around your shoulders and urged you forward seemed like a “actually, you will”.

It was a little colder in here, a room filled to the brim with all sorts of treasures. Weapons hang neatly against the wall above the fireplace, swords sharper than the jagged rocks weathered by the crashing tide deep below the mountains. Armor and fighting leathers of all sizes and stitching hang on a rack in the corner, perfectly clean save a few random holes—war wounds you concluded.

But whose?

The answer becomes more apparent when you prod a little further, carefully observing rare books; some with languages carved on the spine you hadn’t even known existed. Paintings hang on the wall, some of landscapes, a few of the Night Court, but one makes your eyes widen—the painting Feyre had made for Azriel.

You step back immediately, the shadow holding at your arm to brace you. “I really shouldn’t be in here.” You whisper at it, fixing the papers on the desk you’d stumbled into.

“No, you really shouldn’t.”

Your body freezes, hands stuck in place over the little wooden figurine you’d knocked over and the profanity that slips out is nothing above a whisper. “I swear I wasn’t snooping.”

It definitely looks like you’re snooping, hands all over personal paperwork that once you squinted your eyes to look at, you realize they’re reports; mission debriefs, important information that you certainly shouldn’t know and the whine that pulls in your distress, Azriel actually finds kind of cute. “Okay.” There’s no reading the expression on his face, dark hair tumbling down his shoulders. His shirts unbuttoned, golden brown skin capturing your attention and you force your eyes away before you get caught up in the giant wings tucked behind him. “Why are you here?”

Your fear morphs into anger, pointer finger jabbing at the two shadows slinking about your feet, nearly fully hidden if it weren’t for the smoke like wisps that curled in the air. “They made me, I swear. I didn’t even open the door.”

Azriel says nothing, wings ruffling when he beckoned them, silently commanding they return but the shadows don’t obey. They hide behind your frame, flitting about your clothes and one settles around the back of your neck like a sleepy cat. “Interesting.”

“They’re kinda cute,” You admit softly, eyes transfixed on the newest addition to your shoulders and when your fingers come to touch it, it feels cool. “—if they weren’t so naughty.” As if remembering you’re not alone you look back up, hand lowering back down to your sides as you stand there awkwardly. “But, I suppose I didn’t exactly fight them that hard—I was a little curious.”

“Dangerous thing, curiosity. People have killed over less.”

It takes everything in you not to step back because even though the words are slightly threatening, they aren’t untrue. “I apologize—I’ll go now.”

“If you weren’t actually snooping through my papers,” Azriel begins, the shadows attached to him preventing you from going any further and the two connected to you reach out to the others—bumping against one another like bees communicating where the most pollen was. A few more reach out to you, curiously prodding at your clothes, your hair, curling around your arm and gliding through the gaps of your fingers. “What were you looking at?”

You answer quickly albeit a little distracted by the smoky darkness crawling up your shirt and around your neck. “I was—“ Your breath catches when they squeeze a little, blush fanning. “Can you get them off please?”

“Believe it or not,” You dare look up at him and find that he looks just as flustered as you by his shadows. “I’m trying but they’re not really responding to me at the moment.”

Panic is evident on your face and the swirling gems containing the true extent of his power behinds to glow a little, shadows being pulled back like a magnet no matter how hard they latch on. “Does that happen often.”

Azriel’s hand reached out, snatching at one that dared try to pull away. He doesn’t look at you when he tucks it back with the others. “No.”

There’s a pause, a silence that’s not exactly uncomfortable but you still feel the need to fill it when you skim over parts of the room you hadn’t been able to explore before. “What is all of this stuff?” You’re moving before you can tell your feet to stop, settling before a glass cabinet filled with all sorts of precious gems, glimmering necklaces and two neatly hung dresses and though neither are quite as high quality as the stones; your hand still hovers over them, fingertips millimeters from the shiny glass. “It’s beautiful.”

You don’t hear anything for some time, too entranced with the golden arm cuff that had been carefully designed into a vine with detailed leaves and stems that seemed to grow the longer you stared at it. “They’re for,” Azriels voice is low, clearing his throat when his breath catches slightly. “—they were for my mother.”

Were.

You don’t look at him, granting him the gift of privacy because it was obvious this wasn’t exactly an easy subject and even more clear that procuring this many words from him was a feat in itself. You hum instead, trying to appear as casual as possible as you appreciate items not meant for other eyes—treasures meant for a someone who was no longer with us. “She must’ve been lovely—probably a bit complex,” You say without thinking. “Probably really kind too and good with nature,” You add, looking back at the arm cuff.

A blush forms when you finally turn to face him again, his mouth is slightly agape and you can’t quite put your finger on the way he’s staring at you. “You get all that from some jewelry?”

You scoff as if they’re your own, defending them like you’d picked them yourself. “They’re not just jewelry. Look at how intricate the pieces are,” You point at them, never touching the glass in fear of leaving a fingerprint or possibly breaking it. “Each and every one of them probably look careful thought and planning and endless hours of time spent bringing it to life. The care; the love put into them it’s—“ You let out a breath, realizing how fast you were talking and how quick you were breathing. Suddenly, you feel shy with his eyes studying you. “It’d be a disservice to just call them jewelry when it’s so clear her soul’s in every piece.”

Azriel’s not a man of many words, so you don’t force them. Instead you dip you head in farewell, returning the clingy shadows and making way to leave when you hear a whisper so soft you nearly mistake it for the wind. “I thought so too.”

Seen

[part 2 of the “Seen” mini-series]

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: stranger danger, mentions of alcohol, some swearing, tension, probably typos

summary: Danger lurks around every corner but you've found friends in the shadows.

—

Your feet really fucking hurt.

You’d told yourself countless times to stop wearing these shoes when working the bar but for some reason, whenever you were in a rush and scrambling to screw your head on straight, your feet always seemed to subconsciously slip into these death traps.

They offer no resistance against the slick floors and you’d nearly dropped three pitchers when turning to serve them but something had steadied you; cool and quick and gone when your head snapped back to catch the culprit. “When are you off?” Your regular asks over the rim of his beer; his hands always wrapped in thick bandaging, around the tips of his fingers and this time there was a butterfly bandage near his nose.

“You know me, off when the last person leaves.” The rag is warm in your hands, the strong smell of disinfectant burning your nose but it’s better than leaving the suspicious stick of whatever had been left behind from previous customers on the countertops. “You been sharpening those swords without your safety helmet again?”

His cheeks go red, a little smile pulling at his mouth. “Don’t start—you’re sounding like my missus.”

“Sounds like she’s a smart woman.” You’re off before he can answer, falling into the usual rhythm of greeting and pouring—the occasional disappearing to lug in more ice before wiping the bar down and repeating it before the tables were moved for the band to settle in.

“Have you fallen on your ass yet?” A familiar voice drawls out from behind you, arms crossed on the bar top.

The smile pulls immediately, life seeming to pour back into you when Nesta comes into view and you’re preparing her a beer in seconds. “Not yet but the night is still young.”

“You should just throw them away—you’re going to complain all night about the blisters.”

“I’ll throw them away the second you throw out that dress; the moth bitten holes in it makes you look like a spinster.”

She huffs out a laugh over her beer, shoulders relaxing and form leaning in closer as she mumbled something about that being fair enough. There’s casual conversation, quick catch ups since her last visit and the usual muttered apologies for not coming sooner but it’s always waved off by that warm smile of yours. “Don’t explain yourself. Life happens, I get it.”

Maybe that was why Nesta always found herself coming back here; even when she didn’t really like the beer or the ambiance because people dry humping against one another on the open floor didn’t exactly categorize under one of her favorite things. You just understood—no pressures, no forced words and explanations; just motherly smiles and hands that felt safe when patting atop Nesta’s own. “So, you and Azriel?”

The glass you were cleaning slips from your hands and crashes to the floor, the grin pulling on Nesta’s face the picture of pure mischief. Those grey-blue eyes never leave you as you rush for the glass broom, sweeping away your clumsiness and waving off the male customers who liked to act as your security guards. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No?” She hums, flicking at a stack of napkins. “Then, why’d he ask me about you?”

You’re caught red handed when you whip around to face her, obviously intrigued and unable to hide the curiosity when you take a step closer, hands leaning before her against your side of the bar. “Asked about what?”

“Asked who you were and what I knew about you.”

“And what did you say?”

“I told him the truth.”

Your brows furrow, the bell on the front door ringing to life and a group of rowdy men begin to filter in when you shout out a, “Sorry, bars closed.” Your eyes are back on her in an instant, ignoring their groans of displeasure before going back there they came to find a place who would serve them. “What’s that mean, you told him the truth?”

Nesta shrugs, annoyingly aloof and it takes your hand smacking against the bar for her to continue, a pleased look in her eye; she loved riling you up, always crooning some patronizing comment about being adorable when you’re upset. “Relax, I just told him your name—how we met. He seemed satisfied enough.”

“Satisfied enough with what?”

“With the fact that you’ll probably be around often since we’re such good friends.” She continues when picking up on your blush, fingers busying themselves with organizing items that already had a home. “Which is why after you’re off; you’re spending the night with me.”

“But what about, Marco?”

Nesta’s amusement fades at the mention of your cat; a slinking ball of inky black fur and jade green eyes that seemed to follow her every move—it was the only thing she’d found remotely intimidating. “Not a chance.”

“Then, I can’t go.” You sigh. “I’ve been gone all day, it’s unfair for me to leave him alone all night too.”

She doesn’t any anything; mouth screwed up into a snarl while she watches you actually begin close the bar down and when she glances at the clock she notices there’s at least another two hours left of your shift. “Fine, I’ll send someone for him but if I wake up and he’s staring down into my soul again I’ll make Elain cook him for breakfast.”

Her drink is paid for and her cloak is heavy on slender shoulders but no one dared bother her as she left, hair billowing behind her with the gust of wind that poured through the open doors. It takes a few seconds to start moving normally again, your mind too consumed with the swelling excitement and anxiety that resulted from thinking about the shadowsinger but the night finishes fairly quickly. Without more drinks flowing, the guests are hasty to close their tabs and stumble out; that same disinfectant burning your nose as you clean the tables and seats; an old broom sweeping away peanut shells and beer caps.

Exhaustion begins to settle when flipping chairs, tipping out the band and locking the back door behind them. Nesta was right about the shoes though—you definitely should throw them away. Especially with the slight limp that forms from the pain of skin and cloth rubbing against cheap leather.

It’s prickly outside as you lock up, fingers grazing against the light switch when you hear the footsteps start behind you. The hairs on the back of your neck stand at attention, heart thudding in your chest the closer they get, the inebriated mumbling and heavy breathing. “Look what we’ve got here.” His voice carries through the night and you’re quick to start walking towards the light; towards where people might still be lingering but it was awfully late and the promise of safety seemed to grow more slim the further he followed. “Why are you running? I just want to talk.”

You don’t dare look back, feet moving so quickly you were sure you’d start flying but that doesn’t happen and when a heavy hand clamps down on your shoulder, the reaction steals your breath away. Cool shadows appear from out of your cloak, wrenching the man’s hand away so hard he lets out a yelp. Another shadow covers his mouth as two others drag him off between two dark buildings but you’re frozen in place—feet cemented to the ground and eyes so wide you thought they’d roll clean out of your head.

You look around for the master of the shadows, searching for that golden brown skin and dark hair; those hazel eyes and giant membraneous wings.

He’s not there.

Not when you gain the courage to whisper his name and not when the shadows return—alone. They don’t retreat back to hiding in your cloak, instead they sift through your hair and over the spot where the man had grabbed you, all circling around as if assessing for damage before one nudges at the bottom of your spine, pushing you in the direction of their choice.

And without another word, you follow.

—

Nesta is quick to link arms when you arrive, not bothering to thank the giant soldier with shoulder length hair that she’d sent out to get you just outside of town. He’d peered down at you closely, smelling the anxiety permeating from your form, the shaky hands and jumpy demeanor that you’d brushed off with a kind smile. Cassian; she later reveals with a look you’d never seen on her face before but when you raise a brow she’s quick to return it—averting the conversation with little issue. “I think I like Marco a little more now; he put up quite the fight when I sent Cassian to retrieve him.”

“Is that what those scratches were?” You keep your voice down, unsure if he could still hear. “I thought he was just a little freaky in bed.”

Nesta lets out a bark of a laugh, quickly guiding you into her room and shutting the door behind her. Marco is already at your feet, front paws stretching and butt up in the air as his tail swished back and forth around your ankle. A quick scratch behind the ear and he’s already off again, smoothly jumping up on a desk and carefully weaving through stacked books. “You close up okay?”

Briefly, your mind flashes back to the man—to the shadows that had protected you and urged you away when your head tried to turn and see what had become of the stranger who dared reach for you. You hadn’t seen them since Cassian had come for you, hands rustling through your clothes for any sign of them but nothing. “Yeah, everything was fine.”

There's a second where you're sure she's caught you—her recently acquired fae hearing always clueing her in on any slight change of your heartbeat or when the scent of your chemistry shifted when under emotional duress; but Nesta is quick to fill the silence with words. You'd listened earnestly when she rambled about her books or how much she hated when her sister kept poking and prodding at her to open up but Nesta had gotten especially riled up once you'd mentioned Cassian. "Is he the one you say is just so infuriating?"

"He's a brute— a complete animal. There's no way anything could ever happen between us."

"Are you telling me or convincing yourself?"

Nesta shoots you a stare, gaze hot when she stomps to the door, house slippers nearly flying off her feet in her haste as she flipped you the middle finger. "I'm going to grab us some drinks, stay put."

Only a minute had passed, maybe less.

You truly had every intention of listening until Marco slipped through the sliver sized crack in the door and disappeared down the hallway. "Marco," You call out, voice hushed and motions frantic as you rush to retrieve him before he wandered off somewhere you couldn't save him from. "Get back here, right now."

You hadn't realized how large the home truly was, long hallways lined with door after door. Generations of wealth showed proudly in the gold crown moulding and runner carpets so soft your toes sunk into the plush material. A piece of you yearns for another shadow to whisk you away to wander around and gaze at the wonders acquired by Azriel and his friends—his family.

You nearly forget the objective, thoughts straightened out when your peripheral catches the movement of inky black fur slipping into a room on the right. Light still glowed from under the door, heart thumping wildly in your chest as you prayed it were empty when you slip inside. You're not even fully in the room, the end of your nightgown just barely missing getting caught when you whisper out. “Marco?“

“We really should stop meeting like this.”

A shout pulls from you, hand smacking over your chest and the breathless laugh the follows is filled with relief. "Mother above, I thought I was done for."

Azriel doesn’t answer, wings pulled high behind him as Marco studies him throughly, whiskers taut when creeping forward to sniff at him. “This belongs to you?”

“He.”

Marco doesn’t give in easily; not until a shadow pulls forward and the feline instantly relaxes, body easing into the floor and soft belly exposed in submission. “Interesting.”

You’re unbearably aware of the lack of clothing you’re wearing and your arms subconsciously cross over your chest. “He’s gotten pretty used to them,” You confess softly, eyes darting about the room. Dark curtains draped over tall windows, a giant bed fit for giant wings with a thick duvet that probably costed more than you made in a whole month. “—a few have been lingering around.”

Azriel raised a brow, golden eyes sliding to the darkness that appeared at your feet, seemingly making themselves smaller behind you. “I had wondered where they went.”

Bare toes pat quietly against glossy floors, the soft satin of your nightgown swishing at your thighs and you don’t bother hiding the way you’re staring at his things; the assortment of weapons hung on the wall near his bed, a book laid flat against the table, a few pages noticeably dog-earred and curiosity spurs. “Aren’t they your shadows? I thought they were supposed to do as you wanted.”

“Usually, yes.” He watches as you slowly stroll about his room, fingers hovering over wooden carvings and daggers purchased purely for display. “But, it seems they’ve taken a certain—interest in you.”

You turn to face him with intent to respond, a smile growing until you see his brows furrow, golden eyes squinting and in three strides he’s before you. You freeze when his hand raises, pushing aside the strands of hair covering your shoulder.

“What happened here?”

You move to pull away, hands flicking at your hair to cover the bruise but the light has already caught it, hazel-eyes finally comprehending the shape—a hand. “Oh, that's nothing." It was superficial, sure to fade in a few days time. "Really, I’m perfectly fine.”

“That doesn’t look fine.” Azriel's polite tone alters, cadence dropping low and cold and the cobalt siphons on his hands glow under the mood change. He's still touching you, undeterred by the feeble attempt to shake him off and he effortlessly brings you in closer, fingers grazing over the injury. "Who did this to you?"

"I don't know."

"Don't lie to me."

Your head shakes twice, hand curling around his wrist and you make no move this time to push him away. Instead, you bask in the warmth of his skin on your own, the casual touch that sent your body into flames regardless of the conversation at hand. He was just so handsome and his room smelled so good and Marco seemed to like him; the slinking ball of onyx fur sprawled out comfortably on the large duvet. "I truly don't know." You mentally curse the shake of your voice but Azriel seems to pick up on the fact that it wasn't due to fear. His gaze bores holes into your face, shifting from male to spy in a matter of seconds; catching the way your eyes dart over to the shadows behind him. "They handled it for me."

Azriel doesn't miss a beat. "Who is they?"

You don't answer, too lost in the warmth of eyes like burning embers and they follow the finger you point behind him. "There were four of them, they came out of my cloak when he grabbed me—“

“You were alone?”

Something unnameable grows inside your belly at his concern, at the fire that blazed behind that gentlemanly disposition; the care at which skilled fingers trace over marks not meant to be on your body. “I was closing up after work. Nesta sent Cassian to get me, I was fine.”

“This is not fine,” He insists, tone low and body poised for a fight; a shadowsinger shifting into a spymaster, one who could kill in ten different ways before you could even fully inhale a breath. The touch of his hand disappears and you hope he doesn’t catch the way your body subconsciously takes a little step closer, chasing the warmth when he walks away, disappearing into a closet.

“I think your shadows felt the same way,” You whisper back, unsure if he’d even heard you but you continue anyway, frozen in place and yearning for time to go back just so you could have a reason to touch his skin once more. “I’m pretty sure they killed him—though I can’t be certain. They wouldn’t let me look.”

That captures his attention; the rustling of items moving around slowing to a halt until his towering frame fills the doorway and his heart clenches when he sees the shadows circling you, twisting around your legs and grazing against your cheeks to comfort. You don’t shy away, leaning into the ghost of a touch as if you hadn’t just admitted they’d possibly committed murder for you.

"I truly don't even know what I would've done if they weren't there."

Azriel's steps are silent when he approaches, a dagger held in his grasp and he presents it to you with more softness than anyone had ever regarded you with. "Take this—and keep them, they seem to like you more than me anyways."

“I couldn’t,” You’re quick to deny, hands raising to object but Az is stubborn. “They’re yours.”

The metal is cool in your palms, the weight new and foreign in your grasp. “They are,” Azriel’s finger reaches for the shadow around your shoulder and unlike the others hovering around his tall frame, these don’t rush to attach to him. They stay close by your side, alert for potential dangers but undeniably comfortable around you. “—but they want you and it would make me feel a lot better knowing you’ll be safe.”

You can smell the mint of his toothpaste, eyes dashing down a second to take in full lips before quickly averting your gaze. “Thank you.” Words don’t feel like enough. “I’m not sure how I could ever repay for your kindness.”

You’re halfway out the door when he answers, Marco hot on your heels and knife safe in its leather holder. “Just promise that every time you’re over, you’ll come looking for me.”

A smile pulls at the corner of your mouth, cheeks going warm. “It’s a deal.”

When you find your way back to Nesta’s room she’s already waiting, two cups of tea steaming hot before her and the book in her grasp is closed without being marked when she hears you enter. She says nothing, grey-blue eyes lighting up with mischief when they catch on the top of your arm and a manicured nail points at the dark ink that swirled there. “I hate to admit it but it suits you.”

You hum, fingers running over the intricate vines looped around like the arm cuff you’d been staring at the first night you’d met the High Lords shadowsinger. “I thought so too.”

Right around the corner - Azriel

(1), (2), (3), (4), (5)

Plot: four times someone notices something weird about Azriel, and that time someone figured it out.

Remember, I'm taking requests! This Azriel fic is an Azriel x reader, but she doesn't appear yet. Let me know if you want a second part with a formal introduction to the family!

Through the years, Cassian had learned a few things about Azriel. He could proudly say that, even if he wasn’t a spy master himself, he was quite observant. Picked things here and there about people, noticed small habits and routines. For example, he knew that Rhysand liked his coffee boiling hot, that Mor always brought something red from wherever she traveled, and that Feyre ordered the colors she painted with in certain way.

From all of them, he spent most time with Azriel, so it made sense that Cassian knew him. Or thought so.

Cassian knew Azriel sometimes talked to his shadows, even argued with them. The male liked his boots clean and couldn’t stand blood on his clothes. He preferred tea over coffee and liked bad jokes, even if he always scoffed at them.

Cassian thought Azriel was a picky eater. That he hated berries, because he had never seen his friend eat any.

So, when after a tough monthly shopping session for the house, he found a berries box, he opened it without a second thought. It was what he always did – eat from the box before he put it away, infatuating Rhysand, who liked everything in its place.

He only had time to open the box and touch the first berry before Azriel snatched it from his grip, tucking it away.

“Don’t touch it” he grumbled, still focused on putting the eggs away.

“Why not? Rhy’s not here. He won’t mind” he would mind, thought. Not that Cassian had cared about it. “It’s just one berry. I barely ate lunch”

“That sounds like your problem” Azriel gave him a wary look when he tried to get closer. “Don’t”

“They’re berries. Give them to me” Cassian replied, putting his palm up and waiting for his snack.

“You’ll have to wait until dinner”

Cassian frowned, because it might had been one berry, but berries were brought because he liked them and usually ended up in a bag in his room, either way. The only problem he had faced so far was Rhysand disappointed face when he found the empty box laying on the counter.

He rounded the kitchen island until he was next to Azriel. Once more, he reached for the box of berries. That time, he was met with a cold, aggressive grip on his wrist by one of his shadows.

“Dude. What’s with the berries?” he asked, staring at his unmoving wrist with morbid fascination.

“I bought them for me, they’re not for the house”

“You don’t… like berries”

Azriel seemed surprised at the statement, and finally looked at him. And for the first time in a long time, Cassian realized he had surprised him. That he had caught Azriel in a lie, or maybe in an omission of the truth. A truth he didn’t want or feel like sharing.

Maybe, any other day, Cassian would have let it go by. If it had happened with any other food, or with any other person, it wouldn’t have made him suspicious. But Azriel actually looked surprised, and Cassian had tried enough to know it was impossible to catch him in a lie.

“Well, I do now” he shrugged finally. “So keep your nasty hands out of the box”

Before Cassian could reply, the shadow holding his hand curled back into its master and Azriel winnowed away, berries in hand and a soft smile on his face.

-

Even though Mor didn’t like Azriel the way he liked her, couldn’t love him like he wanted to, she appreciated him as a friend. As a good friend, who was there for her always and through everything. And it was selfish of her, she knew, but she had grown used to the details of being loved. Appreciated, cared for. Wanted.

When she caught his gaze across the room, she was used to watching him blush and look away. When they went out to have fun, she was used to his eyes fixed on her back, not subtle at all. And worst of all, she had been kind of taking advantage of the presents he gave her every now and then.

They weren’t short of money, and Azriel had bought her many things through the years. Something she stared at, something that made him think of her. Multiple things that warmed her heart, not in the way he wanted to.

It was only logical that when she found Azriel at her door with a velvet box, looking nervous and shy, it was just that.

“Az. What a surprise” she tried to smile. Tried not to think about his dejected face once she told him she appreciated the gift but wanted to be alone. “Isn’t it too late for you to be up?”

“Yeah, I… it’s been a rough day” he shrugged.

The first indication that something was different was that he didn’t shy from her stare, nor hid the box behind his back. The second was that he didn’t leave it at her hands like a timing bomb.

Mor raised an eyebrow and waited for him to continue. She had been about to go to sleep, after a long day for herself, and supposed half of Velaris was already deep into it.

“Maybe you want to come in?”

She couldn’t physically let him down, drop his expectations and hurt him. More than once, she had given him false hopes in fear of losing the friendship. And when she opened a little bit farther the room of her apartment, she intended to do that.

To accept whatever he had brought her, to hug him tight and thank him, and to let him know that she was really tired and would see him tomorrow, maybe. Then, she would go to bed feeling like a horrible person.

Mor didn’t expect Azriel to open the box himself, and show her something she knew wasn’t for her.

Inside the box, was a beautiful blue sapphire necklace, encased in a silver tear that shone under the moonlight. Everything Azriel had got her, everything anyone got her, was always red. Because that was her color, that was her soul. Not blue and delicate, like the piece of jewelry he held in his hands. 

Azriel didn’t have to say anything else before she noticed the problem.

“It broke and I don’t know how to fix it. It’s… really important for me. And I need it for tonight. For right now” he rambled, like she had never seen him do. “I stayed working late and now the shop is closed”

“It’s beautiful” she whispered, having seen nothing so soft, so beautiful lately. “How did it break?”

“Doesn’t matter. Can you fix it? Like, right now?”

Azriel could have asked her to go through her own jewels and pick the most beautiful to give it to him, and she would have said yes, because she owned it to him. So she nodded and ushered him inside, with her eyes fixed on the necklace.

She didn’t mention that it was too delicate for him, that it was obviously for a woman. Mor ignored her conflicted thoughts about it as she touched the broken chain.

It only took her thirty minutes to find a chain similar to the original one, and another ten to convince Azriel to take it and don’t worry about it. Any trace of sleep erased from her body as she stared at him. At Azriel looking at the fixed necklace with a crooked smile.

“Who is it for?” she asked finally, as she opened the door for him once more. “Anyone special worth mentioning”

“No one. It’s a family relic, from my mother I think” he explained, looking between her and the open air. As if he couldn’t stand staying in the ground a second longer. “Thank you for fixing it. See you tomorrow, Mor”

Two thoughts were on her mind as she closed the door. The first one, was that she knew for a fact that blue was his color, not his mother’s color. She wore green, purple, black. Dark colors, if the portraits were correct.

The second thought, that was confirmed when she looked at her stunned face in the mirror, was that Azriel hadn’t acknowledge her outfit. A thin, black nightgown that barely covered her thighs, and that other nights had sent the shadow singer stuttering apologies right and left before leaving in a rush. 

-

Amren stared with half-closed eyes at her friends, noticing the change right away.

She usually wouldn’t entertain that type of activities, thinking ‘family game nights’ were a waste of time. But since Feyre appeared in their lives, she had to admit she liked her family better. She liked the way Rhysand softened around her, how at ease he was and how relaxed she made everyone.

True to her habits, Amren had chosen the farthest chair and the most expensive wine, and was watching the night unfold in front of her.

At the begging, she had thought it was weird that Azriel, almost as closed off as her, had walked in with a bright smile on his face. His hair had been ruffled in a windless, summer night, his shoulders wider.

It took him almost an hour to identify the new smell in the room, and find the source around his wrist. Almost unnoticeable between all of the scents combined – yet clear enough for her.

She stared at the black rubber band around his wrist, similar to the ones Cassian wore but not quite the same. Amren made it her mission to unfold the different smells and identify the new ones.

Rhysand’s was dark and fresh, like the night. His was intertwined with a sweeter one, Feyre’s, that smelt like vanilla and power. Raw, beautiful power that Amren admired.

Cassian’s was wild and abundant. He smelt like war camps and sweat, but somehow, like home too. Nesta’s scent was there too, even if the female wasn’t around. Amren could identify her just fine – and the new scent wasn’t hers.

After filtering the rest of presences, she finally focused on the band. Azriel was still unmated, that much she could tell. His was like ashes and candles. And behind all of that, she finally found it – baked bread, fresh food, vegetables.

“What are you looking at?”

Her line of sight was interrupted when Azriel pushed his sleeve farther down his arm, covering the rubber band. He knew where Amren was looking, and Amren knew that the question wasn’t rude. Still, Azriel’s voice held an edge she had only heard in Cassian or Rhysand’s voice before.

She smiled lazily at him before answering, making sure everyone was busy trying to guess what Rhysand was gesturing.

“Nothing, boy”

“You were staring quite hard for being nothing” Azriel replied. He fixed his hazel eyes on her, a hard edge on his features.

“I thought I smelt something on you” she purred, enjoying way too much the way the spymaster tensed. “Have you grown a sweet tooth lately?”

Amren usually didn’t stick her nose where it didn’t belong. She liked her life quiet, and minding other people business wasn’t her thing. Every now and then, she did like riling up Cassian or messing with Mor, but she had yet to play with the shadowsinger.

She respected him just as much, if not more, as the rest of the family. Understood the difficulty of his job, the people’s souls he carried behind. Most of their interactions were friendly and cordial, nothing more.

However, that night she felt like she had found something wort digging in.

“Do they know yet?” she asked him when Azriel didn’t answer.

“That I stopped in my way here to buy food?” even if the irritation and protectiveness fell from his face, a muscle of his jaw twitched. “Yeah. Cassian already ate half of the banana bread”

“He did, now?”

They silently stared at each other for a long minute. She dared him to deny it once more, to tell her that the smell under his sleeve was just from a quick stop to the bakery. He dared her to ask about the rubber band and give him an excuse to leave the game night.

Finally, Amren looked away and answered correctly to what Rhysand was trying to represent with gestures. Cassian got up and quickly started an argument about how to gesture correctly, while Feyre just laughed her ass off and Mor scurried off to bring more wine.

The next time Amren looked at Azriel’s wrist, the rubber band was gone.

-

The clock chimed five times in a row when the door finally opened, and Rhysand looked up from the papers on his desk. Apparently, he had to write a formal apology to the summer court in Cassian’s account, and certainly, he wasn’t any close to writing it than what he was in the afternoon.

Now, at five o`clock in the morning, his worry had gotten the best out of him. Rhysand had promised himself that, if by the time the sun came up Azriel wasn’t back, he would start destroying Illyrian camps until he found him.

“Before you say anything” Azriel rose a bloodied hand towards the high lord, and no matter how old Rhysand was, he felt his heart plummeting to the ground in worry. “Not my blood. Not even a scratch”

“Hard to believe. You’re leaving a puddle of it in my carpet” his voice was stained, his anger and worry mixing together.

“I…”

For the first time, Rhysand watched Azriel lost at words. The male looked down at his clothes, that were indeed soaked in blood and gore. He was still carrying all his swords and knives. And from where Rhysand stood behind his deck, he could see none of them had been left unused.

He had received a note from Azriel a day ago saying he was going to check on some Illyrian camps for illegal wing clipping, and that he would be gone for a few hours. Since then, Rhysand had had to deal with the worry and panic of not knowing if he was alive, since he closed his mind to Rhys.

Azriel looked back at him, and any type of sermon would have to wait until the morning. Rhysand got up and circled the desk, until he was in front of his friend. Who looked at him with sorrow and pain.

Rhysand didn’t let the surprise of seeing the shadowsinger, the spy master, so vulnerable. He only gripped his shoulder tight.

“What happened?”

“They didn’t even deny it” Azriel admitted, his voice tight. “One of the girls in the village was brave enough to show me where they keep them”

“Keep what?” even if he asked, Rhysand had a feeling he knew.

“The wings. They kept all the wings pinned to a tavern’s wall, like fucking hunting prices. Rhys, they were so… so many. So many”

He knew his brother’s history with the camps. Had seen what they do to women for himself, had fought for years against it. Still, Azriel had always been the calmer one. Cassian often went into carnages when he found an illegal clipping, but Azriel was the one to ask first and kill later. To organize trips into the mountains with reinforcements and not take decisions by himself.

The Azriel covered in blood in front of him, with tears shinning on his eyes, was new.

Rhysand was at loss as words, torn between beating him for his stupidity of leaving alone and going back himself to look for survivors and kill them slower.

“What you did… Az, anything could have happened to you” he tried to reason. “You know better than to do this on your own. What happened?”

“I got a strong hold. Knew where to find them.”

“How?”

Azriel didn’t answer, and Rhysand didn’t need to pry into his mind to know he would find it closed. Sighing, he pulled Azriel close. It didn’t matter that he was staining his clothes too, that Feyre was still waiting for him in bed and that he was ready to drop dead from worry.

Rhysand hugged Azriel and let him grip his vest until it wrinkled, until he was ready to talk. He trusted him with his life, and he had a feeling whatever was what had brought Azriel to that camp wasn’t ready to be shared yet.

He didn’t count the minutes that passed by until his body relaxed between his arms, didn’t acknowledge the wetness on his neck.

“I need to do something”

“What? Unless it’s a fucking bath and – “

“No, I won’t – it’s not what you think” Azriel took a deep breath and locked his eyes with Rhysand. The high lord nodded. “I’ll talk about it tomorrow, I promise. But just tonight, I need you not to ask question. I won’t be sleeping in my dorms”

“You need to take a bath and rest”

“I will take a bath and rest”

Rhysand knew Azriel had an apartment, somewhere. He knew where Mor lived, where Amren had bought a house, but his brother had lived as long as he could remember in the wind house, with him. He didn’t have many personal details, but in the room at the end of the corridor he kept his weapons and clothes.

He even kept the horrible scarf Nesta knitted him last year that everyone else had thrown away.

Before he said anything else, something in his soul told him to shut up. To accept his request, the only one he had done in a long time, and leave the details for the next morning.

“I guess it’s time for me to go home too” he smiled softly. “Just – clean off that blood. And don’t forget to report in the morning. We need to talk”

“We will”

Without further explanation, Azriel disappeared between his shadows. And Rhysand was left with the sudden smell of burnt bread under his nose.

-

What Feyre missed the most about her human life, and from the spring court, were the quiet walks in nature. The smell of leaves and grass, the sounds of the animals and the absence of other voices. Velaris was a busy place, and even if the people were more than nice, she missed quiet.

Nyx had made sure that his mom never knew quiet again.

He was a happy baby, loud and cheerful, and slept less than any person Feyre had known. Always wide awake, smiling and babbling. Before he even turned one, she had grown used to taking midnight strolls down the Wind House like another routine.

That night, Nyx was playing with her tattooed fingers and munching on his pacifier, still managing to babble some words. Rhysand had gone to bed late and was sleeping in their room, unaware of the night walk. And Feyre, who held Nyx tightly against her chest, felt like falling asleep on her feet.

She was considering turning around and letting Nyx lay awake staring at the ceiling when the baby stopped moving.

“Time for a diaper change?” she guessed, used to that type of silence. “I’ve never met a stricter person when it comes to schedule. Most people use the bathroom at day, you know?”

“Bah”

“Yeah, most people sleep at night, I guess” she sighed.

Still, when she felt his diaper, she found it empty, and after a quick inspection of smell, she discovered it was clean. Through her sleepy haze, she frowned and looked at Nyx. He was pointing to the open door to the kitchen, to the table next to the entrance.

As the rest of the house, the kitchen was empty. Not even Azriel’s shadows, who usually snuck around and entertained Nyx for a while, were there.

Feyre walked inside the kitchen as Nyx became more restless, until the baby was close to the object he pointed at. Then, almost dropping from her embrace, he put his chubby hands on the surface and tried to crawl to his destiny.

“Nyx, baby, it’s late. You already had dinner” she sighed, trying to pull Nyx back.

But as soon as she separated his hands from the table, Nyx let the pacifier drop and whined pitifully. He smacked one rebel hand against Feyre’s cheek, showing her his utter disapproval of the action.

All Feyre needed was another slap to the face before she gave in and let Nyx have his way. She let the baby sitting on the counter, and holding his back, she bent down for the pacifier. When she rose again, Nyx had found his prize – something that certainly didn’t belong to their kitchen, since the most complex food she could make was soup.

Large and thin like a fork, Nyx was holding a kitchen tool made of plastic. It ended in soft peaks, similar to a brush. Similar to the baby brush Feyre used with him.

“Did you winnow that here?” she asked Nyx, not expecting an answer. “Please tell you didn’t steal anything”

Lately, Nyx had picked up his father’s power and was starting to conjure things he wanted or needed. It was cute, whenever it was a toy or a plushie. Last month, it was a very distressed Cassian that fell on Feyre, and it was not cute.

But before she could think about Nyx winnowing the tool, she recognized the already familiar smell of bread and cinnamon. Feyre smiled as Nyx brushed its end against his face, and the baby giggled.

During the next ten minutes, she brushed the tool herself against her baby’s hair, tummy and neck. It might had been a little unhygienic and certainly not very mom-like, but it was getting Nyx to drop his eyes and lean against her.

She ended up carrying the baby asleep on her arms, still gripping the new acquisition tight on his fist.

As Feyre let him rest on the crib and tucked him in, Rhysand finally woke up. He apologized softly for not getting up and urged his mate to get in bed with him. Just before he could fall back into a blissful sleep with his family safe besides him, Feyre spoke.

“Remind me tomorrow to wash that thing and give it back to Azriel’s mate. She’ll be happy to know it also works as a baby wand to sleep”

Feyre drifted off with his back to Rhysand as the male got up from the bed, processing the new information.

Want to read more? Check out my side blog @imaginesmaimasterlists, where I keep all the masterlists! Feedback is always appreciated

Dandelions | Azriel x Witch Reader

summary: it's your baby girl's first day of school and Azriel isn't ready to let her go.

warnings: fluff/angst; some suggestiveness at the end (bonus scene)

a/n: here we go again with another ABBA inspired imagine (: I have another Az x ABBA inspired imagine in the works. I just really adore this song and the only series I could apply it to was this one. This can pretty much be read as a stand alone imagine but if you'd like to read more into Az x Witch reader, you can find the masterlist here.

**

In the quiet hush of morning, Azriel and Melaina find themselves at the breakfast table with sleep in their eyes. The floor is cloaked in their shadows, joining one another at their feet in a vast sea of darkness.

Yet, the dance of their shadows harbor distinct meanings.

Though he tries to hide it, your keen eyes pick up on the subtle poignant unease in Azriel's demeanor. An undercurrent of melancholy taints the air, prompting you to send a reassuring tug through your bond. Azriel returns the gesture, his hand finding yours across the table. Meanwhile, Melaina quietly finishes her breakfast. Her shadows, a whirlwind of nerves and excitement, betray her impassive appearance. Today is her first day of school, the precipice of a new chapter in her life, and Azriel can't help but grapple with the realization that his little girl is growing up far too quickly.

“All done, my pretty?” You ask softly, gaze alight with admiration as her small wings flutter behind her.

She’s the mirror image of her father with her captivating hazel eyes–a perfect blend of greens and browns that remind you of the nature you’re so fond of. Two braids cascade down her shoulders and delicate bangs accentuate her sun-kissed complexion. When she was born, you had joked that you had given birth to Azriel’s carbon copy and little did you know that even her personality would match his. 

Melaina nods and you rise, taking her plate to the kitchen sink. The corner of your lips lift up into a smile when you hear Azriel ask, “Are you sure you want to go to school? You can always start next year.”

“Mel is more than ready for school,” you lightly chide Azriel, who chooses to ignore your words of consolation. 

His gaze is fixed on Melaina, a plethora of scenarios plaguing his mind. He wishes he could see what’s really on her mind–to be able to foresee any worries she may have and ease her through them. The same way he’s eased her through every milestone of her life thus far. He was there when she took her first steps, when she first got hurt from tripping over a rug that he immediately disposed of after, when she said her first word–which much to your dismay was your cat’s name, Binx. 

But now, she was ready for school. Her first time being away from home without you or him or his brothers by her side. Her first time being on her own. What if the kids in her class don’t take well to her? To her shadows? He remembers the apprehensive looks he’d receive in Windhaven when growing up and the thought of anyone doing the same to her pains him. What if they are mean to her? What if they hurt her?

The obsidian tendrils at Azriel's side stir with an eerie melody, commanding Melaina's shadows to rise. They snap to attention like disciplined soldiers heeding orders. An unspoken promise unfolds—her shadows would help guide her and protect her from any lingering stare or slightest suspicion of malintent. They return to her side as she rises to her feet, tickling her sides and causing her to giggle.

 Azriel smiles and shares her laughter, capturing every minute of it, the feeling in it.

**

There’s that odd melancholy feeling again as he stands in front of the school with Melaina on one side and you on the other. He can’t help the frown that settles over his face when she wiggles her tiny hand out of his grasp to run to her cousins. You’re following after her, tugging Azriel along with you to join his brothers and their mates at the front of the school.

“Good morning, Azriel jr,” Cassian greets her with a smile, playfully tugging at one of her braids. “Are you ready for your first day?”

Melaina lets out a huff. “Of course I am, Uncle Cas.”

Cassian then looks toward Azriel, who continues to brood, and chuckles. “It doesn’t look like your daddy is.”

Azriel glares at Cassian. You leave his side to hug Feyre and the frown leaves his face at the delighted squeal that comes from you, his shadows singing in response. He turns his head to see you and Feyre exchange smiles while you gush in excitement over her growing belly. Though Feyre looks at Azriel with a knowing smile, her words are directed to you.

“Rhys was the same way with Nyx,” she muses and out of the corner of his eye, Azriel catches his brother rolling his eyes. But he doesn’t deny it.

“So was Nesta,” Cassian adds, propping an elbow on Nesta’s shoulders. She shoves him off with a shrug before chiding after their twin boys, Cardan and Calian. The aftermath of the aphrodisiac you made–or rather, remade–for her after Azriel accidentally drank the first batch.

“I’m surprised you’re faring well with this,” Feyre says with a raised brow at you.

“Well, someone has to be the strong one,” you tease, side glancing at Azriel and squeezing his hand. 

Azriel lets out a small huff, similar to the one Melaina let out earlier. He knew you were also stressed and a little sad but you were surprisingly able to hide it better than him. But unbeknownst to him, just in case the obsidian necklace she wore was not enough, you had casted a protection spell over Melaina before she went to bed…and packed her bags with a variety of charged crystals.

The gathering of students at the school's entrance slowly disperses, and Azriel tenses beside you, acknowledging the imminent moment of having to say goodbye. Nyx, ever courteous, takes it upon himself to accompany Melaina to class. Azriel suspects Feyre's influence in Nyx's gesture, as if she intuited the added difficulty for him and you. He watches as Melaina walks back to you and you lean down, gently smoothing her bangs before placing a kiss on her forehead.

“Today will be a wonderful day for you,” you affirm for her with a radiant smile, making Azriel's heart melt at the sight of the two girls he loves the most.  He wishes that he could freeze the picture and save it from the funny tricks of time. 

Your hand delicately reaches for the obsidian crystal suspended from her neck, lifting it tenderly to your lips. There’s a flash of green light that engulfs the crystal and as you release the necklace, Azriel notices the new sparkle to it. “Love you, my pretty.”

Though Melaina doesn’t verbalize it back, her eyes radiate a golden glow and the soft caress of her shadows against your face feels like a tender whisper that articulates, "I love you too.” You pull her in close, hugging her smaller frame and lean down to whisper. But Azriel’s attentive senses still catch it.

“Now hug and give your daddy a kiss so he doesn’t cry.”

Azriel resists the urge to roll his eyes. Feeling a tug on his sweater, he leans down to meet his daughter at eye level. Opening his arms expectantly, a surge of warmth envelops him as she eagerly rushes into his embrace. A tender kiss graces his cheek, accompanied by the familiar caress of her shadows against his other cheek similar to the way they had done with you. He pulls away to look at her, holding her gently by the shoulders. He knows her shadows will do well to protect her and if those aren’t enough, her older cousins are just a couple of classrooms down the hall. But he needs to hear her say it.

“What will you do if someone is mean to you?”

Melaina’s eyes light up and she steps out from his hold. True to the goddess you named her after, she's a tiny vision of nightmares and madness, as she assumes a defensive position, her shadows dancing around her.

“Kick them in the face!” She exclaims as she raises her leg up with a glare directed toward her nonexistent enemy.  “I'll make my enemies bleed.”

Cardan and Calian follow after her while Nyx wisely keeps a safe distance, amused by the spectacle of his younger cousins engaging in an imaginary brawl. Cassian watches them fondly, striking punches of his own into the air but you’re shaking your head with furrowed brows. Azriel catches the pointed look you send his way and a subtle blush overtakes his cheeks as you’ve discovered his secret. He continues to read Melaina, those books you told him not to. 

“No, Mel, that’s not–”

“That’s my girl,” Azriel grins as he rises to his feet, feeling slightly better. He rustles her bangs fondly.

The sound of the school bell echoes through the park as a final warning that class should be beginning shortly. Azriel reluctantly shrugs Melaina’s backpack off his shoulder, the small bag looking ridiculous on someone of his stature. He adjusts it on her with careful consideration for her delicate wings and feels an ache in his chest as the backpack nearly engulfs her smaller frame. 

As the faint rustling, reminiscent of rocks shifting, comes from the bag, it is Azriel’s turn to send you a subtle yet pointed look in your direction. A suppressed smile tugs at his lips when you quickly avert your gaze and he realizes he wasn’t the only one keeping a secret.

“Off you go, my little shadow. See you later.”

Once the backpack is secured to her, she takes Nyx’s waiting hand and runs off to the entrance with him. Azriel almost frowns but then, at the top of the stairs, she turns around, waving goodbye with a small absent-minded smile.

He watches her go into the school with a surge of that well-known sadness. Tears prick his eyes and though he knows he’s being dramatic, he can’t help the feeling that he’s losing her forever. His sweet little girl who keeps on growing. She’s slipping through his fingers all the time.

**

Bonus scene

Before his family could indulge in making fun of him, Azriel grasps your hand, drawing you close as he summons his shadows. The inky tendrils swirl around you both, transporting you back to the familiar sanctuary of your home.

"If this is your reaction on her first day of school, I can only imagine what you’ll be like when she has her first crush," you say, a teasing sparkle in your eyes.

Azriel's grip on you tightens. He doesn’t want to grapple further into the inevitability of his daughter's growing independence because to him, Melaina will always be his baby girl. A subtle strain echoes in his voice as he pleads, "Don't."

Easing out of his embrace, you giggle at his dramatics, strolling toward the kitchen with a lightness in your step, intent on brewing some tea. "It's just a couple of hours, Az," you reassure him.

"A couple of hours?" Azriel echoes, a pensive note in his voice as he joins you in the kitchen.

Having taken the entire week off, he had intended to be present for every moment—dropping Melaina off and picking her up during her first week at school. He didn’t plan for much other than that and he was used to spending his days off with his little family but now Melaina was off at school, leaving the two of you alone.

The kettle placed on the stove begins to whistle, harmonizing with the new thought that brews in his mind. You’re raising your steaming cup of tea to your lips, peering over at Azriel as he walks up to you. “What? You want some?” You ask, raising your cup to him.

Azriel shakes his head with a smile. Carefully taking the cup from you, he places it onto the counter behind you. He gently but firmly holds your chin, coaxing you to meet his gaze. The faint blush on his cheeks returns, a soft hue that complements the golden brilliance in his eyes as he looks down at you with adoration because you’ve given him everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

Still, there's an insatiable desire within him for even more moments, more shared dreams, and more of you.

“Let’s have another?”

“A baby?”

Azriel nods, attentively studying your features for any nuanced emotion. He feels relief when you smile and you voice your answer without having to say anything, flooding him with love through the bond you share. The two of you had discussed having children years ago, almost two years before having Melaina. After she was born, you mirrored each other’s desires for having more but had agreed on waiting but not too long as you wanted your children to grow up together.

“We do have a couple of hours to ourselves,” you remind him again, embracing him with arms entwined around his neck, fingers brushing through the back of his hair.

He hooks his arms under your knees, lifting you up with ease and you’re wrapping your legs around his waist. He grins when your legs tighten around him and kisses you.

“Let’s not waste another second.”

**

a/n: hope you enjoyed this as much as I did writing it <3 Sorry, I skipped ahead. I do want to eventually write an imagine for when Az & reader first find out they're having a baby. That might be the next imagine for this series.

tagging: @fxckmiup

Just a Little Crush | Azriel x reader

Summary: Everyone secretly longs for Azriel, but Azriel only longs for her.

A/N: Look at me poppin out fics left and right. Ages ago, I saw a post somewhere about how basically every single person in the acotar universe has a huge crush on Azriel. And so this happened. It's a wholesome one! We got some bat boy banter and some fluff. I needed some innocent flirtation, what with all the smut and drama I've been posting lately lmao

Word count: 2138

Warnings: language, perhaps a bit of objectification, fluff

-

Everyone wanted Azriel. Adored him. Lusted for him.

It had been that way for as long as Cassian could remember. Windhaven, the Hewn City, then Velaris and finally all the other courts. Wherever the shadowsinger went, he managed to charm every being within sight. And the most annoying part of it all was that he didn't even seem to be trying.

He only ever appeared from the depths of his shadows and usually stuck to his corners, always silent and perhaps a touch broody. Cassian didn't know what exactly it was, but something about his brother drove people to throw secret glances over their shoulders and giggle into their wineglasses like bashful children. It drove heat to women's cheeks and had men succumb to a stutter with a glance so brief it barely deserved the name.

It was infuriating.

Cassian huffed as he noticed the glances thrown at the table he shared with his brothers—only that the vast majority of them were directed at neither him nor Rhys.

"Az, would you stop it?" Cassian snapped at his seemingly oblivious, shadow-wielding brother.

Azriel lifted his gaze from where it had rested on the edge of his glass, his thumb absent-mindedly wiping little drops of condensation off the rim.

He blinked slowly, studying the Lord of Bloodshed without saying a word, waiting for him to continue.

Cassian waved a hand through the air, vaguely gesturing at the plethora of crowded tables surrounding their booth at Rita's.

"Please just put these people out of their misery and pick one."

Azriel's eyes darted to the side for but a split-second before locking onto Cassian again, a confused crease now carved into the skin between his brows.

It was Rhys who spoke next, a low tone of amusement in his voice. "What are you going on about, Cassian?"

"They're all thirsting for this dumbass," Cassian said. "And he just sits there like the embodiment of innocence."

Azriel gave a soft snort, lifting his glass to his lips as Rhys barked a laugh.

"Aren't you mated as of late, brother? What do you care if Az gets some attention?"

"I've had to watch this since Windhaven," Cassian said. "Everywhere he goes, people trip over themselves when they see him, and he never uses it, never even seems to notice." Angling his body to fully face Azriel, he narrowed his eyes at the shadowsinger in question. "Why is that?"

A beat of silence, then Azriel spoke in a calm voice. "Are you asking me to take more lovers?"

Rhys smirked into his drink. "Didn't know you were that concerned with his sex life, Cass."

Cassian did his best not to pout as he turned his attention back to his drink. "It bugs me."

"Don't worry," Rhys sighed, slapping his palm on Cassian's back. "Back when we met, Feyre had a little crush on him too and thought I didn't notice. I'm sure Nesta will grow out of it. It's the shadows. The eyes. The broody little frown he carries around all the time. Pick a feature."

Azriel blinked. "What?"

"I'm just saying," Rhys lifted his hands in defence. "I get it."

Both Cassian and Azriel stared at the High Lord of the Night Court, both equally speechless until Cassian gave a quiet sigh and muttered something under his breath that sounded like "Not you too."

Rhys laughed. "But to soothe your worries, brother," he said and directed his words at Cassian. "As someone who shared a room with him at Windhaven, I can attest that you shouldn't worry too much about a shortage of lovers. Azriel’s doing fine."

"Azriel’s sitting right next to you," the shadowsinger in question said with a raised brow.

It was then that a new voice suddenly broke through the noise of the crowded pub, and all three Illyrians turned their heads to find a beautiful faerie with her hands on her hips and a smirk on her lips as she tracked her gaze down Azriel's face. A waterfall of white-blonde hair lay perfectly straight on her shoulders and from there flowed right down to her waist.

"Hello there," she said, the tip of a tongue shooting out to wet her lips before she continued. "I'm Lumina. Would you care to dance?"

Azriel opened his mouth to respond, but Cass beat him to it.

"He'd be overjoyed," he said, kicking Azriel's leg beneath the table when the shadowsinger glowered at him.

"Fantastic," the faerie spoke, tilting her head and offering a hand without ever taking her eyes off the spymaster.

Azriel gave her a polite smile, mixing a hint of an apology in there for good measure. "I apologise, but I was just about to leave."

Where he'd expected her smile to drop, it changed tones instead, and her eyelids seemed to grow a bit heavier.

"Would you like some company where you're going?"

"Thanks, but I'm picking up a friend." His smile never shrank, but as the pretty faerie gave a deep sigh and turned to rejoin her friends a few tables down, he finally shot Cassian a glare, who in return scoffed.

"Bloody liar."

Azriel couldn't fight the hint of a smirk that stole itself onto his face as he emptied the last of his drink and rose from his seat.

"You need to keep your nose out of other people's business, Cassian," Rhys reprimanded, eyes tracking Azriel's movements. "Now you drove him away."

Azriel waved a dismissive hand. "It takes more than Cass to drive me away."

Cassian lifted a brow. "Then why are you leaving?"

"Early training."

"I'm training with you, and you don't see me leaving at," Cassian checked the clock over the bar, "7:42! It's not even eight yet, Azriel. That's embarrassing. We practically just sat down."

Azriel patted his brother's shoulder as he left. "And if you'd go to bed at a reasonable time once in a while, perhaps you'd be winning for a change."

Rhys snorted, but Azriel left before Cassian had a chance respond.

-

Velaris lay cloaked in darkness, the nights much longer at this time of the year, and Azriel revelled in the starlight reflecting from the smooth surface of the Sidra. It hadn't begun to snow just yet, but he was convinced that the first frost of the year would come any day now.

Walking along the eastern riverside, he kept to the shadows of night as he'd been doing for centuries. Old habits die hard.

It was a ten-minute walk, eight if he took less-scenic backroads, eleven if the streets were crowded. Which, to his delight, they were not.

Passing brightly lit shops and laughing groups of faeries, Azriel headed straight north before turning into a narrow little street that connected the Sidra to the Rainbow. The cobblestones where shinier here—polished by hundreds of pairs of shoes taking this route to reach either one of the two most beautiful sights in Velaris on a daily basis.

He stopped at a bakery, a warm-golden glow shining through the windows and into the night. The shelves he could spot from here, the displays in the windows, were almost entirely empty. Closing time was approaching fast.

Warmth welcomed him as he opened the door to be greeted with the clear ring of a bell and the scent of freshly baked bread that never seemed to leave this place.

The faerie behind the counter looked up from the pages of a book she'd propped up against the register, and Azriel's heart gave an involuntary jolt when her lips twisted into a smile. It seemed it grew with each of his visits.

"Azriel," she said, her voice trickling down his spine like warm honey. "You're lucky, I was just about to close up for tonight."

Azriel gave a few nods, and suddenly he didn't know what to do with his hands. Where did he usually keep his hands?

He let them hang loose by his sides, and when that made him feel stupid, he interlocked them behind his back.

"I ... won't take long," he said.

"Oh, don't worry about it," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Take all the time you need. I'm afraid there isn't all that much left to choose from, though."

Her face took on an apologetic look and Azriel wanted to do anything to get rid of it. But how could he without explicitly telling her that it hadn't been the pastries that brought him here, anyway?

"I'm glad business is good."

She tilted her head and beheld him with a look he couldn't quite read, though the smile never left her lips. "Well, we have some very loyal customers."

Azriel cleared his throat and took his eyes off her for only long enough to scan the last remains of today's assortment. Two big loafs of bread, a faerie tart, and half a dozen donuts.

"I'll take it all."

Surprise coloured her features. “Oh, are you sure?”

“Ah, yeah. I’ll have Cassian polish off those donuts in no time.”

She smiled to herself as she moved to pack his order and Azriel never took his eyes off her as she did. Mother, he was smitten.

“You know…” she started after a few moments of silence, and Azriel thought he saw her look a little harder at her working hands, as though they required all her concentration. “Molly—you know Molly, right? She works here too. Blueish complexion, curly hair? Well, anyway, she seems to think you have a little crush on me and that’s why you keep buying our leftovers.”

Azriel kept his eyes on her, ignoring the heat crawling up the back of his neck. When her own eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, they carried a gentle look in them, a soft note of curiosity.

“Does she now?” Azriel asked, fighting an impending smile.

She hid a smile herself, carefully placing his baked goods in a brown paper bag. “Yeah, she’s really excited about it.”

“Can’t leave her hanging, then.”

Azriel’s fingers brushed hers as he took the bag from her, and it was only with the utmost willpower that he managed to suppress a shiver.

“Thank you,” he said, though he didn’t move from his spot by the counter. He didn’t want to leave just yet. “Are you closing up now?”

“Oh, yeah,” she said, grinning. “Now that we’re all out of stock.”

Azriel nodded, clearing his throat, eyes darting through the room before locking back on her. His palms grew clammy and a part of him cursed internally. His palms never grew clammy. He was the spymaster of this damn court, for Cauldron’s sake.

He swallowed before finally forming the words.

“Would you like me to walk you home?”

Her smile grew wide, revealing rows of pearly white teeth, and Azriel’s heart skipped a beat at the sight.

“Yeah,” she said. “That would be nice.”

-

Azriel had always loved Velaris, but somehow everything seemed a bit more beautiful now. Lights gleamed on the surface of the Sidra, starts twinkled above, and by his side walked the most beautiful faerie he’d ever laid eyes on.

She was laughing at something he’d said, and the sound rang through his very bones. All the while, his eyes tracked the way the skin by her eyes crinkled with joy, teeth gleaming in the light of a streetlamp.

Gods, she was breath-taking when she laughed.

“She was right, you know?” Azriel heard himself say quietly.

Y/N looked at him, the smile still edged into the corners of her lips. “Who?”

“Molly,” Azriel said, his own smile soft as they crossed one of the bridges spanning the Sidra. It was right at the centre of it that Y/N suddenly stepped into his path and his feet came to a halt.

She looked up at him with a glint in her eyes, her head tilted in that way that made her look like she was trying to figure out something about him that he hadn’t quite managed to figure out himself.

She smiled. “Really?”

Azriel’s eyes briefly darted down the length of the Sidra before he made himself meet her gaze again. “I don’t usually eat that many baked goods if I’m honest.”

She grinned openly at him now, and before Azriel knew it, he felt a gentle palm cupping the side of his face, a thumb running along his cheekbone.

“That’s really sweet,” she breathed. “And extremely fortunate.”

“Yeah?” Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper, and right at that moment, she was his sole focus in the world. “Why’s that?”

“Well, because there’s nothing worse than an unrequited crush.”

When she pushed to the tips of her toes to meet his lips in a sweet kiss—a kiss framed by starlight and the gleaming surface of the Sidra—Azriel’s heart might have stopped all together.

-

A/N #2: I'll totally write a second part to this (and who am I trying to kid, of course it's gonna be smutty) hmu if you want to be tagged!

love will unravel me (so please keep your hands held tight)

sorry if ur seeing this twice !! i am a finicky gal and was tooo sad it didn't appear in the tags so forgive me for the repost <3 it's good ol' hurt/comfort

It's unnerving.

To know something is somehow... wrong and yet, not be able to put your finger on it. Something being off.

There had been something off since your return from the Illyrian Mountains. Like a scar you hadn't ever remembered getting, like a lump in your bed that hadn't been there before.

You had returned to the Night Court only the night before, far later than expected. It had been near twilight, yourself kept late in the war-camps dealing with the unpleasant likes of Lord Devlon. All you wanted to do was to crawl into your waiting bed.

But your bed wasn't empty.

The perfect shape of your mate, tucked beneath the blankets, is one you could recognize in the dark. Even then, you had felt the strange difference — a tickle along the nape of your neck, enough to make you shiver.

Drained of your energy, you carelessly ignore it. Chalk it up to the bad feeling you got every time you went back to those gods forsaken war-camps.

Beyond their terrible ways and nearly tyrannical leaders, your own mate's history there was enough to make you want to burn it to the ground. To scorch and salt the Earth so nothing could grow there for a hundred years as proof of the pain.

So, feeling weary, you crawl into your bed. Your eyes find Azriel sleeping beside you, silent as always, and you trace the delicate features of his face in the dark. Even in his sleep, his shadows, lazy and slow, greet you as a slumber begins to wash over you. The lull of dreams comes quick.

As does morning. But come morning, Azriel isn't there.

Not the most unexpected thing; there were early morning trainings frequently enough. However, Azriel loathed each time you were sent to monitor over those war-camps. He bristled silently each time you left and rejoiced in that quiet, tender way he did best when you came back home to him. A mission in Illyria usually guaranteed a morning in bed with your lover.

Today, the sheets are cold.

You frown as you push yourself up, the sheets pooling at your waist. Faintly, at the back of your neck, you feel it once again. The tickle. Frown deepening, you reached your hand up to scratch at the back of your neck absentmindedly. Your eyes fall on the door.

Like a mystical tug, you feel compelled to search for the Shadowsinger — slipping out of bed silently, the tiled floor is warm from the morning sun beneath your feet. You pull the door open an inch, wondering just where your mate has ambled off to this morning.

As you step through the door, drawn by your mysterious compulsion, you don't turn back to check behind you.

And even if you had, your eyes would glaze over the large Illyrian, still bundled up in your sheets, turning over in his sleep.

—

You find Azriel out on the balcony, not in training as you had suspected.

He's facing out towards the city, his hands braced on the marble, his strong wings held proudly behind him. Interestingly, his shadows have forgone him this morning. Not one of them is in sight. You sidle up to him, feeling more yourself already just seeing him.

"Abandoning me in bed this morning?" You begin, playfully. You reach out to loop a hand through his arm. "I thought you had promised me—"

Your words come to an abrupt halt as Azriel shifts before you can touch him, his arm pulled out of reach.

In fact, as he notices your presence and turns to you, he takes an entire step backward. His handsome face screws up, a frown set on his brow.

"Don't." He says severely.

Your chest pangs with hurt. Your eyebrows crowd together in your confusion, concern beginning to melt into your blood.

"Az?" You say tentatively. You want to step closer to him, to cradle his face in your hands like you do whenever he has that crushed expression on — but a greater part of you fears he may retreat from you again.

"Don't call me that." He say, voice lower. His head dips, turned away from you to hide his face. Your concern swells, a thousand alarms ringing inside your mind. The back of your neck tickles again.

"Azriel," You try again desperately, fighting to keep your voice even. "What happened? What's going on?"

Confusion paints every thought in your mind as it whirls and searches, hunting desperately for the cause of your mate's sudden iciness. Was it something you had done? Was it taking another mission to a place you knew he so despised you going to?

The Fae before you doesn't say a word.

"Azriel," His name comes out a plea, unable to help yourself. It only scratches deeper into your soul when he maneuvers again, quicker than you, purposefully evading your touch.

"Stop." He instructs, the word nearly a growl. His voice is alike to the bark he uses for talking down to unruly war-camp Lords. It's nothing like the soft, sweet tone you're so accustomed to. It makes his words sting even more. "Your touch disgusts me."

You reel back at his words, a sharp inhale shooting to your lungs. What? You could feel your mouth opening and closing, no words coming to fruition. Behind your eyes, you can feel the itch beginning. You will your tears away, confusion still the dominant emotion swirling inside.

"I—" You stammer. "I don't understand."

Azriel snorts, unamused. He crosses his arms across his broad chest, looking more intimidating than usual as he draws to his full height. He keeps his eyes on the ground but the expression on his face looks... bored.

"I've had a revelation."

Another ache resounds through your chest. Why is he being so cryptic? Since when... had disgust been something Azriel had ever associated with you? You shiver at the prickle that rolls down your neck. It's as though you had gone to bed and your mate had been switched in the night.

"Az, you're scaring—"

"Stop calling me that." He snarls, interrupting you. You jolt in surprise, your feet taking a step back. With the way he's leering over you, a hint of anger —anger you've never seen directed at you before— creeping into his face, something akin to fear grows within you.

Azriel is stronger than you and far more deadly. A fact that usually provides comfort, for the first time, only grows your unease.

"Don't you want to hear my revelation?" He asks, his growl barely reined in. He smiles down at you but it's not soft in the way you know. It's cruel.

You take a step back. Something is wrong— terribly, entirely and utterly wrong with the love of your life. Panic begins to bubble up, like waters rising in a sinking ship.

You need to find someone else. You need Cassian, need Rhys, need anyone else here to help because you are the worst person to help. Every word he says cuts deep to bone. You can feel your heart bleeding within your chest.

It has to be a trick.

That was all you could think. Your mind was stumbling over the sentence over and over, almost delirious in how it clung to the thought tightly. It must, it must —you hoped it was. Begged it to be.

You take another step back, ready to dash through the house and call for help — but Azriel takes another step toward you. Your fear spikes, looking up his snarled face, the power within him radiating off in waves.

"I came to realise that I don't—"

"—y/n?"

A voice cuts in. There's someone else on the balcony with you. Thank the Mother, you think to yourself, whipping around to find Cassian in the doorway. He's got a furrow in his brown, concern written all over his expression.

"Cassian," You breath his name in a sigh of relief. You step back again, hyper aware of how Azriel seems to take the exact same amount of steps as you, following you to the door. Your panic flares away, your breaths coming fast and short.

"Cassian, thank gods—" You begin.

"What's happening?" He interrupts urgently. His eyes are on you alone, never flickering across to Azriel out on the balcony. "Why are you— did you have another nightmare?"

"Nightmare?" You repeat, eyes wide as you stare at him in concerned bewilderment.

You're about to point out the very large intimidating Male staring you both down when Azriel speaks again.

"I said," He drawls out the word and your head snaps back to look at him. You fail to notice that Cassian doesn't even turn at all.

"I've had a revelation, my dear."

It all sounds so terribly sarcastic, such a far cry from your stoic, sincere mate. You cringe, already feeling how his next words will be made cut you down.

"I don't want you anymore."

"—what can you see?—" Cassian's voice speaks from beside you, fuzzy and out of focus. You stare at Azriel, your heart beginning to hum and fizzle, a thousand fissures breaking upon the surface.

An anguish so deep in your bones rattles through your body — and across the House of Wind, your real mate wakes up with a gasp at the feel of it.

"What?" You croak, unable to tear your eyes away from Azriel.

You can feel Cassian's hands on your shoulder, shaking you, but you can't— you won't look away. Something deep within you compels you to watch him break your heart and shred your soul. The back of your neck singes with heat.

"—What is it you're seeing?!—" Cassian's voice dips in and out. His hand sweeps your hair back, looking for any ailments causing this. He finds it in an instant. "Holy Cauldron, your neck. Oh, that's so not good. Rhys!"

He bellows for the Highlord right as Azriel, the real Azriel, bursts in through the door — following the taut agonizing pain in his chest, that connects you two together. His eyes snag on you and Cassian, out on the balcony, and his brother turns to him but you do not.

"Azriel," Cassian warns. "It's a Vesania Sigil."

Azriel pays him no heed, even as the words echo through him with a darkened dread. His stomach turns, bile threatening.

A Vesania Sigil— his knees nearly threaten to buckle beneath him.

A Vesania Sigil is a sinister curse, placed on people to drive them to the brink of insanity, minds scrambled to exhaustion.

In all the times Azriel has seen them in his long lifetime... they have all been on dead Fae, driven to the point of taking their own life. His shadows burst into a frenzied storm.

Your eyes are fixed somewhere out of the balcony, a glaze to them that tells Azriel you're seeing something different than he can. Softly, as gently as he can, he strides out and Cassian steps back to let him. Azriel steps down onto the balcony beside you, slowly, delicately reaching out to touch you.

You startle, head snapping around to see who's touched you. Except when you drag your gaze up and meet his face, you flinch hard. Azriel feels misery twist deep into his heart, some buried fear within him coming true before his eyes.

You take a step back, stumbling as you do. Then your head turns back out to the balcony—then back to him, back and forth.

"W—What?" You stammer out.

It takes Azriel only one second to realise why, and to feel the agony as he does; you're seeing double.

When you had said he's everything to you, you had truly meant it. He is both your greatest love and... your greatest fear.

Azriel can feel Rhys' arrival somewhere behind him, can even hear Cassian's concerned voice filling him in but his entire focus is locked onto you. You've stumbled back again, falling painfully on your backside, barely catching yourself on your hands but something— someone on the balcony keeps frightening you.

Something in Azriel screams; how can he fight an enemy he cannot see or touch?

He's on his knees before you in an instant. You're beginning to tremble, silent tears on your cheeks and Azriel's heart wails as you look upon him with a face for a fear. He can't tell what you're seeing but he just needs you to see him.

"My love," He says, voice quiet as to not spook you. You whimper at his words and something shrivels up inside Azriel's chest. He continues, noting how your eyes flick rapidly between his face and something over his shoulder. You shuffle back, too hesitant to trust him.

"My love, my moon," He murmurs, gently reaching out for you. His shadows zip forward, soothing along your skin. You flinch back again but Azriel holds strong, nudging forward until he's touching your skin.

You wince and screw your eyes closed and Azriel can feel the fear, the tormented pain that pours down the bond. He can see it now, this close, the seal that's burning against the skin of your neck. A fiercely protectiveness anger burns in his gut and he vows to tear apart whoever did this to you, limb by limb.

"I don't know what you can see," He say, soft as he can. He lifts his other hand and cradles the other side of your face. Your eyes peek open. "But it's not true. None of it."

Your lips are quivering, lashes sparkling with how they catch your tears. Azriel feels sick to his stomach again; he could do a thousand battles with countless weapons but this is something he's entirely powerless against.

"Azriel," Rhys speaks up from behind, voice cautious. Azriel ignores him, his thumbs stroking softly over your face.

"It's not real." He says with more urgency. Your eyes dart over his shoulder again and a whimper slips out your throat, your body tensing. Real, raw pain scratches it's way down the bond.

"Azriel, I can get it off her." Rhys voice again. "You just need to keep her still."

Azriel nods, but doesn't turn, doesn't take his eyes off you for a single moment. His heart squeezes and cracks, a thousand shards littered through his ribcage when you finally speak. Your glassy eyes have lost a little of their glaze, fixed on your mate in front of you with a desperate plea.

"He—" You begin, sucking in a harsh breath. Your breathing is too fast, your heartbeat too. "It- it fucking—it looks just like you."

"It's not." Azriel assures in an instant. He keeps his eyes fixed on yours, trying to be the picture of calm for you even as his heart warbles in agony at your pain. "It's not me."

Your eyes shift over his shoulder again and Azriel moves this time, blocking your view. "Don't. Keep your eyes on me. Look at me."

Silently, Rhys kneels at your side, his violet eyes blazing where they’re fixed on your neck. Undoubtedly, this was not such a personal attack but something to harm the inner circle. As darkness begins to swirl from Rhys' fingers, orbiting the sigil, you begin crying again, fresh tears spilling down your chests as little gasps wrack your frame.

"It—" You gasp, suddenly focusing desperately on Azriel now that you know who's who. "It— gods, it sounds so much like you."

"It might, but it isn't me." Azriel promises. He aches when your hands suddenly shoot up, eyes screwed shut as you clamp your hands down over your ears — like whatever you could hear was causing you physical pain. Rhys mutters something under his breath, his hands still working.

"Eyes on me.” Azriel urges, knowing you can hear him. You whimper and pitch forward, forehead bowing to your knees. His hands fall away as your head begins to give tiny shakes, side to side. His shadows swarm your shoulders, unsure how to help.

“Don’t—“ For the first time, Azriel’s voice falters with a wobble. He tries not to think of the countless warriors who have fallen beneath a sigil this strong and mentally roars at Rhys to move faster. “Listen to me, my love. Listen, listen to my voice, please.”

Your breathes are ragged, staggering inhales as you press your head between your knees. You entire body shakes and Azriel dares to steal a glimpse at the back of your neck — the intricate rune imprinted on your skin shimmering black as it slowly seals.

"Keep," Rhys grits out, his concentration still focused on his power. "her still."

Azriel's hands dart out, already apologising at how he has to force your head out of hiding. You gasp and sob, pulling back to resist but Azriel holds tight, his hands holding your face as tenderly as he can.

He pushes forward, crowding in, until his forehead rests against yours. He summons everything he can within himself, every ounce of devotion he holds for you and send its down the thread in his chest til everything burns white hot.

"Look at me, my love. Show me your eyes. Listen to my voice." Once the silent stoic type, Azriel lets everything that comes to mind fall out his mouth.

Your eyes crease open, flush with tears, and you shudder against him but Azriel feels it. The push back. The press of your skin against his, trying to get closer, trying to get to safety. Rhys curses for a moment, his dark magic still swirling and Azriel resists every urge to howl at him to hurry.

"Tellmetellmetellmetellme," You chant in a whisper, half delirious. You're flicking between his hazel eyes, your hands still half over your ears, body still wracked with quivers.

Tell me. Azriel's soul feels marred at the reveal of what is taunting you and he strokes his thumbs over your cheeks, drawing your attention to him.

"I love you," He says, voice sounding close to wrecked. "I love you and you're mine. I'm yours and you're mine."

You shudder violently, eyes crushing closed, right as Rhys pulls away with an exhausted sigh. It's gone. Azriel hears Rhys' voice in his mind but it's not even needed — not with the way you suddenly slump forward into him, like a puppet with its strings cut.

"It's okay, it's gone," Azriel murmurs lowly, gathering you up in his arms as much as he can. He can feel your body shaking against him, sobs still forcing their way up your throat. His wings wrap around you, an inky cocoon of safety, sealing you off from the world.

"It's gone," He repeats, his arms circling around you. He can feel the pitter-patter of your rabbiting heart, feel the remains of fear that hang around your system. Every cell in his body yearns at this injustice, the fabric of the mating bond sending his protectiveness into overdrive. But more than the urge to hunt and maim whoever harmed you is the overwhelming need to make sure you're safe.

"You're safe now, I swear. It wasn't real." His assurances continue softly, his body instinctively beginning a slow rock to soothe you. You sobs slow to cries, your hands twisted tightly into his sleep-shirt. "I love you. I love you."

By the time your breathing evens out and your hiccuping cries slow, it's some time later. Your face has been buried in Azriel's chest and when you finally dig it out, Azriel's heart disintegrates once more at your blotty skin, your tired eyes.

You don't even have to ask.

"Vesania Sigil." He says quietly, hazel eyes burning into your face.

You can feel his writhing worry through the bond, like a caged tiger, fiery hot and licking at your heels. You give a little sniffle. Open your mouth to speak and find not one word in your throat.

Azriel's moving deftly before you can think, his strong arm looping beneath your knees to scoop up you against his chest. You let yourself be coddled, thankful to the way he curls himself around you entirely, wings hiding your view — only a flash on the ceiling to be seen. You're not sure you can face the others just yet.

The door your bedroom opens as he nears and Azriel kneels on the edge of the bed, his strong thighs maneuvering you both up til he's rested up against the headboard. Pure exhaustion like nothing you've felt before creeps up from within you.

Yet even so, you feel your heart twinge. It's been chafed raw today. Your hands slither and squirm, til they're wrapped tight around Azriel's middle and he hums protectively, his wing draping over you like a blanket.

For a moment, there is only weary, tired silence.

"Tell me?" You ask in a whisper, your voice so, so small. Azriel aches at the pain in your voice, sending every assurance down the golden thread between you.

"You're mine," He says, voice hushed and yet doused in his love.

"I'm yours." You echo, voice a little stronger than before. He can feel the way you tug on the bond, as if checking its still secure— still unbreakable. "And you're mine?"

Azriel folds himself even closer and tugs back on the bond strongly. His scarred hand glides up to bury itself in your hair, massaging slow and sweet. His nose nuzzles in against your hairline, his lips pressing a kiss wherever they find skin.

"And I'm yours." He agrees.

the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

Notice me! | Azriel X Freader

summary; Azriel courting an oblivious reader.

a/n; Heyy! Just a little fic of being courted by Azriel. And you not being very aware of it. Hope you enjoy!

content/trigger warnings; knife, food, meat?, cussing, kissing, no use y/n, hint towards lust feeling, Azriel pining, Armen being sassy, FEM reader (if you’d like me to make a another post with male reader, message me!) she/her pronouns for reader, thunderstorm mention and I think that’s it. If I missed something, feel free to message me on it! 💝

word count: 3.1k

A plate clattered against the table causing your attention to turn to the man in front of you.

You met his gaze as he waited for you to try his new dish, his eyes seeming to shine as the sun hit his eyes. You swear he always seemed to be effortlessly beautiful. It was angering in some ways, you had even seen him wake up looking like a god. No. Better than a god. It didn’t matter if you spent an hour in the mirror, swiping various products of different expenses on your face; the result would be the same. The same boring face you saw everyday.

A wonderful smell wafted from the plate, causing your empty stomach to growl loud enough to shake the mountains. The shadowsinger smirked, pushing the plate of food closer to you with a gentleness most men didn’t have. Your face flushed with embarrassment, your hands instinctively coming to paw at your stomach, hoping it would stop. Your eyes wandered down to the plate where a meal sat.

“I haven’t made this before. I wanted you to be the first to try it.” He spoke with every ounce of grace and elegance a god would have. His hands grasped the seat across from you, pulling it out and taking a seat. His wings shifted until finding a comfortable position in the chair. You nodded in response, picking the fork up before taking in the rather- gracious portion of food he had made for you.

A ribeye steak bigger than your hand sat on the plate. Seasoning of different kinds were smothered on it, and the smell of butter consumed your senses. Your mouth watered in response. Beside it were two sides. Your favorites.

Armen smirked from where she sat beside you, watching as you lifted the steak knife and fork. You were so oblivious. She had been watching for the last few years as Azriel desperately chased after you, and you never seemed to even notice. It was amusing. He has spent hours staring at you, and you never realized. And if she pointed it out, you just assumed you had something on your face. She knew he was growing restless. Not tired of you, but tired of your complete oblivion. These days he seemed ready to scream from the top of the roof that he loved you.

Azriel’s scarred hand clutched at your wrist. He gently took the knife and fork away from you, before grabbing your plate and proceeding to cut your steak into bite sized pieces. Armen snickered from where she sat, resulting in a glare from Azriel.

“Oh- Azriel I can do that-“ You started.

“I know you can.” He responded. He didn’t give back your plate until your steak was cut into bite sized pieces for you. He watched you place the first bite of steak into your mouth.

Your eyes rolled back and you let out a hum of approval, chewing the food. The flavor was delicious, and it was quite easily the best steak you had ever tasted in your life. It wasn’t too buttery. Or too seasoned. It was just right. The meat was tender.

Azriel’s wings rustled at your hum. His face shined with pure male pride. His eyes never left you once while you chewed and swallowed. He stood, taking the steak knife that was no longer needed into the kitchen.

Armen followed after him. He sat the knife in the sink, letting the house do its magic before turning his attention to Armen.

“You’re like a love sick puppy.”

“My love life isn’t your business.” Azriel responded, his face tight. His words were low, ensuring you couldn’t hear.

“Hm. All I’m saying is your ‘courting’ isn’t going to work.” Armen said, picking at her nail leisurely. She was like a cat. Her piercing eyes watched as Azriel’s eyes narrowed at her with a scowl. Before he could comment more, Armen spoke again.

“She’s oblivious. It doesn’t matter if you fix her food, or leave her favorite pastries everywhere so she finds them, she won’t get the hint. Literally. I’m getting seasonal allergies from the amount of flowers you’ve left for her everywhere in this house.Seriously, this place is covered in flowers. Either start professing love or drop this little crush.” She growled out, walking out of the kitchen.

Azriel stayed silent before whispering,“It’s not little.”

“Yeah, don’t let me forget to grab a few early starfall gifts.” Mor said. You groaned loudly, rubbing your temples. Even the idea of her gifts made you want to cry. Her starfall gift for you these past few years have been a collection of ridiculously fuzzy socks. Every.Year.

Of course you were grateful, but everyone knew Mor’s gifts weren’t particularly good. You now had a drawer filled with fuzzy and odd colored socks.

Velaris was bustling today. Fae of all kids roamed the streets, some tending to their shops. Kids ran through the streets playing games. Everyone was out enjoying the sunny day. You and Mor decided to go shopping to pick up a few items. Your eyes wandered back down to your list, a few more candles, a book or two, and some lotion.

“Starfall gifts? I don’t think you need to shop this early for them-“

“Nonsense! It’s never too early to do gift shopping!” Mor said, cutting you off. You sighed and shook your head knowing it was hopeless to argue with her.

After a few trips to some stores, you both ended up getting lunch at Rita’s. You ordered a milkshake- apparently a new creation of a cold drink? None less, whatever they were, everyone had been going crazy over them in Velaris. And of course you also got your favorite meal. Mor ordered practically half the menu, content to eat her heart out. You didn’t blame her- food was good.

As your plates were sat down by the waitress, Mor eyed your food with a questioning look. Your eyebrows raised in confusion. “What? You’re looking at my food weird.”

“Oh. Well I’m just surprised to see you ordering a meal here. You know Azriel is gonna harp if you don’t eat his food.” Mor responded, shoveling food into her mouth as if she’d starve.

“Huh?” You countered.

Mor finished her food before rolling her eyes. She sighed deeply as if you had troubled her. “You know..” she said, waving her hands as if that would solve your confusion. When you raised your eyebrows with a puzzled face, she put her fork down.

“You know- when you eat something someone else cooked or you’re not hungry, and he’s cooked you a meal. And you refuse it- he gets all huffy and puffy! Like a broody motherhen.” She continued.

“He doesn’t even fix me food that often-“ you argued.

“Oh please! Breakfast, lunch, and dinner! Full course meal on the table for you. If only someone loved me that much.” Mor said, picking her fork back up. “Those meals weren’t from the house hun. All I’m saying is maybe you should pay more attention.”

For the rest of the meal, you both sat in silence as you pondered over her words.

Cassian laughed  as you entered from the hallway. His eyes shined with amusement as you waddled to the counter with your shopping bags.

The sound was enough to draw a curious Azriel to the room. He immediately grabbed all your bags despite your complaints, setting them on the table. He nodded at you in response when you thanked him.

“I thought you were only shopping for a few things.” Cassian stated. He stood casually leaned against the table with a drink in his left hand. Azriel stood to your left, his wings expanded. His eyes were keen and watchful. You doubted he ever missed a single detail. His skin glistened with sweat, a musky bourbon scent coming from him. Cassian’s skin was sweaty too, evidence of them training together earlier in the day.

“Well, the candle store had a buy two get five for free deal. So I bought  four and got ten for free! Cauldron I love Velaris!” You squealed, and Azriel smirked knowingly. He had taken note of your recent obsession with buying candles. Cassian shook his head.

Cassian's face lit up with surprise as you handed him two candles. “So I got one for everyone else. This one smells like leather and the other vanilla. I figured you’d like it Cas.” You continued. He nodded in thanks. You turned to Azriel.

“I got you this candle because I know you love blueberries. And this one is supposed to smell like rainy days and lightning. And this one is books and bourbon!”

Azriel’s eyes never looked down to the candles you had shoved in his arms. His eyes stayed on your face as you happily ranted about the candles. When you finished and looked back up to his face, he had a soft look. It was one you don’t think you’ve seen him use before. His eyes were soft and looked like pools of honey, and his smile was gentle.

You watched as he sat down the candles on the table and turned back to you. “They’re perfect.” He responded. He was so memorizing. You just knew whoever he ended up with would be content. You struggled taking your eyes from him.Cassian growled playfully.

“Hey! Unfair! He got three candles! I only got-“

Cassian was cut off by Mor smacking him on the back of the head as she trotted to the kitchen. She had a lot of leftovers to put away. Azriel gave him a quick glare, silencing him.

You noticed he was wearing all his leathers, and siphons. His shadows whirled leisurely around his shoulders and wings. Azriel watched as your eyes creased in confusion. He sighed. He couldn’t help but feel a shimmer of hope at the fact you had gotten him more candles than Cassian.

“Rhysand sent me on a mission, I’ll be gone for a few days most likely. I’m going to spy on the human queens and make sure all is well there.” He admitted. He watched as your face fell. You quickly smiled again and nodded. His heart thumped like a hammer in his chest. Did you care? Would you miss him like he always missed you? He wondered if you couldn’t sleep like he couldn’t when he was away from you.

“Oh. I see. Be safe.” You responded, nodding slowly. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the feeling in your chest. You had never felt it before. You wondered why all of a sudden you felt this way about him leaving.

His eyes softened even more. “I leave in an hour or two.” He whispered, head tilting to catch your eyes once more. Cassian had disappeared from the room all of a sudden, him and Mor talking loudly about dumb things in the kitchen. Leaving you and Azriel alone. “Let me cook you dinner before I leave.”

His eyebrows furrowed this time as you shook your head no. His smile dropped. He looked like a kicked puppy almost-

“I ate lunch with Mor.” You explained. Your explanation didn’t seem to comfort him as he shook his head in response.

“That was lunch. It’s time for dinner.” Azriel said firmly.

Your mind went back to Mor’s words. Pay more attention…what did she mean? What was there to pay attention to? Azriel cooked for everyone- right..? Your mind raced over your memories, trying to think of a single time you had seen Azriel set a plate down for one of the others.

“Alright then, fix me dinner Azriel.” You responded. Azriel smiled, pleased. His right wing flared, draping over your back. “Follow me.” He said, leading the way into the kitchen. His wing was warm against your back, as it guided you beside him. It was much larger than  you were, towering over your head. As you entered the kitchen, Cassian and Mor immediately scampered out shouting something about extra training.

You watched Azriel move around the kitchen in a graceful dance of grabbing pans and pots. He kept his wings tucked in, to keep them from banging against counters and tables. His hair was messy from training, or like he had ran his hands through it more then once. But it never failed to frame his face. You watched as a few shadows dart around, grabbing various spices and ingredients for whatever new dish he’d make tonight. He set a pan down on the stove before turning to you.

His scarred hands gently grasped your hips, lifting you up effortlessly. He sat you on an empty space on the counter. He huffed a laugh at your squeak of shock. He patted one of your thighs gently before leaving your side and returning to his pan.

Your face flushed with embarrassment. He had lifted you as if you weighed nothing, showcasing his obvious strength. Everytime he touched you with his beautiful hands, it felt like everything stopped. As if the world had slowed to let you enjoy the moment. Your hands wrapped around your stomach, wondering what this weird feeling that had overcome you meant.

He moved swiftly, chopping ingredients and throwing things in various pots and pans. You quickly realized by smell alone he was making your comfort food. You remembered the night a storm had rolled in. Usually thunder and lightning didn’t scare you- but this was different. The booms and flashes were intense, shaking the ground and keeping you from sleep. You had stumbled to the house library in an attempt to distract yourself. But you only found Azriel instead. He had scented your obvious distress and took action immediately. He helped you settle on the couch with cushions and blankets before asking what a comfort food was. A good 15 minutes later he returned with a plate.

You don’t remember much pass that, you just remember becoming tired and sleepily. You remember feeling warm all of a sudden and then you woke up in your bed that morning.

“It’s almost done.” Azriel spoke, bringing you back from your memories. His eyes were distant as if he too was remembering that same night.

You smiled and thanked him as he handed you your bowl and a spoon. He made himself a bowl too. He took your bowl from his hands and sat it down, before grabbing you and setting you back on the floor. His hands stayed on your hips until he was sure you were balanced. He guided you to the sitting room with a fire.

Azriel didn’t eat until you took your first bite, ensuring you liked it. And of course, you did. It was warm, and comforting, like a hug in your mouth. It soothed your soul in ways nothing else could, the flavors easing your body from any previous aches. Azriel had never made a bad meal before. You both ate in silence together, with the comforting crackle of the fire and warming food. But as the time passed, you knew it came time for him to leave.

Your bowls sat on the coffee table. Both finished. The house made them disappear, taking care of them on its own. You were always amazed by its magic.

Your head snapped to Azriel as he stood. He sighed, looking at the clock on the wall. His eyebrows were furrowed and he almost looked like he wanted to chain himself to the wall before even considering leaving. He turned to your sitting form. His shadows seemed to move more quickly and sharper around his shoulders.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He whispered. He watched as you nodded solemnly. You smiled, but he knew it didn’t reach your eyes.

“Thank you for the meal.”

You watched as Cassian hugged Azriel in goodbye, and Mor nod as her own way of saying goodbye. Azriel had taken his candles to his room earlier, before joining everyone in the hallway. When one left for more then a day, you all said proper goodbyes.

Azriel turned to you, walking swiftly. His arms wrapped around you tightly, his big biceps practically squeezing the life out of you. He practically had to hold himself back from purring when your arms wrapped around his neck in return. Everything darkened as his wings cocooned you. His wings blocked out the noises of the others, leaving just you and him. His head found solace in your neck. His scent overwhelmed your senses in a good way. Before you had time to question Azriel being touchy, Cassian yelled,

“Ok! Ok! We get it, Azriel. Let go of her before you suffocate her.”

Azriel lifted his head, and his wings dropped. His eyes stayed latched on yours. A few seconds passed before he tore his eyes away and scowled at Cassian. His teeth bared in silent warning. Cassian backed down and turned to have conversation with the others. Azriel released you from his grip.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t starve. And I left some flowers on your nightstand. I hope you don’t mind.” He whispered to you, fiddling with his hands like a nervous school boy. Your eyes lit up and you smiled gently.

“Thank you Azriel. Goodbye.” You whispered back in response. His smile turned upside down.

“I told you, call me Az. Or whatever you want- just not my full name. We’re closer than that.” He said in a growl like tone. He watched as you nodded your head.

It was time for him to leave now. He sighed deeply. The others had gone silent watching the scene with interest. But he didn’t seem to care.

He leaned down to your height, his hands grasping at your chin. He turned your head before leaving a gentle but firm kiss on the side of your cheek. “Sleep well tonight.” He whispered before pulling away. You stood in shock at the door to the balcony, as he said his last goodbyes. He waved in an almost shy way at you before taking flight.

You stood still, flabbergasted at what had happened. Slowly your hand rose to your cheek.

Realization dawned on you- he hadn’t ever fixed food for anyone else other than you.

a/n; hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want part two! 🌙

You’re losing me

Summary: Azriel has always put his duties as spymaster above his own needs and wants. How long can you let him keep putting work over you before boiling over?

Author’s note: I am so sorry about this babes, this is pure heartbreak. Anyway angst is a new genre for me so please lmk how this goes for you (good, bad, awful - lmk)

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

You sit in the library of your shared home, the soft cushion of your favorite armchair not providing the comfort it used to. The library was your favorite room in the house - you and Azriel spent thousands of hours in here reading independently, reading to each other, or just enjoying the silence with each other for company.

The room was beautiful- you both adored the entirety of the house, but this room drew both of you in immediately. It’s beautiful stain-glass windows creating brilliant hues of color to move about the room during the day, bringing life to the dark wood that adorns the walls of the room.

Vivid colors from the scenes in the stain glass window would dance across the floor, as if reenacting the depictions just for you two.

It’s dark now, the sun having set hours ago, and you can’t remember the last time you enjoyed the light of the room. The last time you and Azriel had enjoyed the light of the room.

The last time you and Azriel just enjoyed each other’s company without knowing he was going to leave in a matter of hours.

It was a song and dance you were familiar with by now - he’d return home from doing some work requested by Rhys, you’d make him some food, you two would snuggle or have sex, and he’d be gone by the time you woke up.

It wasn’t always like this, but the two years since the war have caused Azriel to dive headfirst into his work, accepting every scrap of work Rhysand would push his way, darting out the door like it was calling to him.

You hear the front door open, knowing who it is despite their silent entrance. Sighing, you stand up and walk out of the library, closing the door behind you.

You walked through the halls of your home, feet softly padding on the hardwood floor until you see him across the living room, still in his leathers.

It used to amuse you, when he’d return in his leathers, compared to you in your frilly nightgowns. It was quite a sight, the dark leather surrounded by the satins and cottons of your nightgowns.

Now it just furthered to prove the divide between you.

“Az, we were supposed to go to the bakery today to taste cakes.”

You hardly let him walk through the door before picking a fight, but his absence at the bakery hours ago left you ample time to stew in your negative emotions.

He runs his hand down his face, the purple and blue bruising under his eyes having grown more and more prominent over the weeks. Truthfully, you don’t want to start a fight, but you’ve let too many of these things slide in the past two years and you’re at your tipping point.

Missed dates, rescheduled dinners, missed anniversaries, cancelled trips. You had tried talking several times about it, but you need your fiancé around more than he has been. No amount of begging can make him do anything about it, though.

The most egregious of all was the continually delayed status of your wedding ceremony. You’ve had to rescind the invitations two times now, and you’re have tempted to send out fresh ones that just say “date: TBD”.

He just sighs in response, telling you, “I had to work, I had a mission.”

You sigh, knowing it was the truth. Your fiancé would never cheat on you, but he would put everyone else’s needs above his.

And above your own.

“Azriel, I really needed you today. It was important to me for you to be there.”

“It’s just a cake - pick any flavor you want. You know what I like,” he says, sitting onto the couch and taking off his boots.

“It’s not just a cake! This is your wedding too - I cannot make every decision for this. It’s supposed to be about us, not about me.”

You shake your head, exasperation bubbling to the surface, “I feel insane going to these appointments because I have a fiancé who never shows up! I swear I heard the florist say she pitied me because I pretended to be engaged!”

Azriel drags a hand down his face, “can we not do this now? I’m exhausted and want to bathe before bed.”

You huff out a laugh, as Azriel tries to move past you but you continue to follow him. “When would be a better time? You’re hardly home lately, and you leave at a moment’s notice for Rhysand.”

He whips his head at you, “it’s my job, my duty.”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure you could delegate a decent proportion of your work to the people under you that you both hand selected and trained yourself!

He sighs, exasperated, “it’s my job.”

A line you’ve heard a thousand times. You knew who he was when you began dating him, you’ve always known who he was and what he did.

But you thought his need to feel worthy would wane with time, not get worse.

“You put Rhys’s needs over mine!” You’re shouting now, something you never do, and Azriel bites back, “he’s my high lord - and yours.”

“That doesn’t mean he gets to keep you at his beck and call!” Your hands were running through your hair, unable to have the same argument again and again.

“That’s exactly what it means.”

“Oh so was it Rhys’s beck and call to push our wedding back three separate times?”

He whirls around at you, pointing, “That’s not fair and you know it.”

“Three times is not fair! It’s like you don’t even want it!”

His silence to your accusation rings through your ears. A damning, deafening silence.

You count to ten in your head, and he hasn’t made a sound, only looking at the ground.

His lack of words echo through your mind, even as his hands reach out to you, his desperate pleadings of “I-” and “baby” falling on deaf ears.

“I’m glad to see where we stand.”

You begin to turn, but stop yourself.

“When I told Nesta our wedding was delayed again, she told me if you really wanted it, really wanted me, you’d suggest we just run off and get married like Rhys and Feyre did.”

You take a shaky breath, “but you never did.”

You step back from him, unable to look him in the eye, unable to do much of anything, except retreat from your shared bedroom, softly shutting the door behind you.

Azriel stands in the now empty room, your footsteps ceasing down the hall but continuing in his mind. Every second he stands there, the further you become. He starts to move, starts to pick up his feet, his shadows urging him to go, go, go.

You can fix this, they tell him. Go, now.

His thoughts are broken up by Rhys’s voice, a smooth sound at such odds with the chaotic edges of his thoughts.

Az, I need you.

Azriel doesn’t even ask if it can wait. You’ll understand. He’s sure of it. He can fix things when he comes home. Rhys just needs him right now, he can help him out, then he can talk to you.

He scrawls a quick note on the table for you to find before retreating into his shadows.

He returns home a few hours later, his assistance speeding up Rhys’s needs. He stops to grab you your favorite flowers, a book you’ve been eyeing, and a necklace he’s had his eye on in the shop for ages.

The necklace gives him pause, as he realizes he first saw it eight months ago, its shine reminding him of your eyes.

Had it really been eight months?

He kept telling himself he was going to buy you the necklace for a special occasion, but so many have slipped by without his acknowledgment this past year.

Gods, he thinks, did he even celebrate your birthday?

Surely he hadn’t gotten that caught up in his work.

Had he?

The streets are quiet as he makes his way back to your shared home. He thinks over the past year and how he hardly saw you, and when he did, he often left not soon after seeing you.

He opens the door, the house eerily silent following your fight earlier. He deserved your silence. He couldn’t tell you how scared he was to marry you, tethering your soul to his for the rest of your lives.

You, who was so kind and so loving, shackled to him for eternity. He knew the insecurities were ridiculous, that you loved him with every part of yourself.

But that didn’t stop the self-hatred from oozing out of him every moment.

He hadn’t been there for you this past year. He had let his own need for approval overshadow your needs.

He groans, needing to find you so he can fix things. He walks through the house, not even realizing the book he’s carrying is a duplicate to the one sitting on the coffee table.

He starts really thinking, trying to remember the last time he had touched you, kissed you, held you.

Too long, he realizes, as he’s made his way through the whole house without a sign of you. A shadow wraps around his wrist, pulling him into the kitchen. He finds the note he had left earlier still on the table, but you had scrawled a second message underneath. Five words that break his resolve, forcing him to his knees. Your handwriting so clear, save for the splotched ink, wet from tears.

I wouldn’t marry me either.

|| notes: because I think this trope is always hilarious and also very cute

|| warnings: the Inner Circle (Mor and Cass) being nosy, fluff, Az and reader being silly and cute, alcohol mention

"You've been spending an awful lot of time with Azriel lately."

Looking up from the book you've been reading, you meet Mor's questioning look with one of confusion. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"No," Mor protests, "I was just wondering."

You raise an eyebrow, eyeing her. There's an edge to her tone that you're not sure that you like, as if she's trying to get you to admit to something. "He's my friend," you say slowly, "and I like spending time with my friends."

Mor hums. "That's fair," she says, then drums her fingers on the table. "Speaking of friends, we're friends, right?"

"Of course," you agree. Where is she going with this? Had you done something to make her doubt your friendship?

Mor watches you carefully, weighing her words before she says them. "And you'd tell me if you were interested in anyone, right? Romantically, I mean."

The look you give her is equal parts suspicion and befuddlement. "Probably? Mor, what is this about?"

"Nothing, nothing," she reassures you hurriedly. "Listen, we're going to Rita's tonight. As in me, Cass, Nes, and Azriel." She pauses. "I think he'd like it if you went with us."

You close your book. "I'll go," you say, and Mor beams. "But what does Az wanting me there have to do with—"

"Great!" Mor chirps, pulling away. "We'll be leaving at eight!"

And then she's gone, leaving you more bewildered than you've ever been.

Your friends are up to something. You know that they are, considering Mor's behavior from earlier, and now their (Mor, and now Cassian) insistence that you sit next to Azriel in the booth.

"I can't pick my seat?" You ask, and Cassian shakes his head.

"Nope," he grins, and you throw Nesta a pleading look that she answers with one of quiet amusement.

"Okay..." Not that you truly mind sitting next to the spymaster, but it's made strange for the way Mor and Cassian are watching the two of you and sharing looks you're sure they think are subtle.

"[Name] looks nice," Mor prompts after a while, "right, Az?"

You blink as Azriel turns towards you, and the slow sweep of his eyes over you makes your cheeks warm more than the alcohol does.

"Yes," he says quietly, and your lips quirk when you catch his eye before you turn back towards your drink. Whatever it is that Cassian and Mor are looking for or trying to incite, you're not sure, but you don't miss the look of frustrated confusion the pair share.

Cassian rallies himself for another attempt at whatever it is they're up to, and you cut him off. "I think I'm going to head back," you say, apologetic smile tugging at your lips. "I'm tired."

Mor looks like she's going to protest, only to stop when Azriel moves to follow you when you slip from the booth. "I'll come with you."

You don't protest, but you also catch the pleased look Cassian and Mor share before you step out of Rita's. The night air is a little cooler than expected and when you shiver, Azriel steps closer. "Cold?"

"A little," you admit, and you don't protest the wrap of his arm over your shoulders, pulling you closer.

Once you're far enough away from Rita's, Azriel speaks again. "Cassian is convinced that I have feelings for you."

You look up at him, finding him watching you already, coming to a halt. "And?" You prompt, raising an eyebrow, "do you?"

Azriel's eyes gleam with amusement as he leans down, meeting the answering upward tip of your head so he can kiss you. It's sweet and familiar, and you press to make it linger a little longer before he pulls away. "I think you know the answer to that."

"I do," you grin. "How long do you think it'll take them to realize that we're already together?"

Azriel snorts. "Longer than you think, honestly." He tugs you to him, enveloping you in his arms to ward off the chill of night. "I take it that you have feelings for me too?"

You huff a laugh, pressing a kiss to his chest. "I think you know the answer to that," you answer.

Azriel's lips meet the top of your head. "I do."

Uncle Catastrophe

Summary: based on this request - your day out on the town is interrupted by a shadow who brings you to a very rattled Azriel taking care of Nyx

Author’s note: this is cute and fun I might do something similar with an older Nyx bc why not

The revered shadowsinger.

A male who is battle hardened, whose scars sing legends of a cruel male who lacks sympathy.

The revered shadowsinger. Brought down by a babe.

Cauldron boil him, he thinks, sorting through the massive stack of parenting books Feyre and Rhysand had bought to prepare for Nyx.

Now his scarred hands comb through the books, searching for what’s wrong with the princeling. He carries Nyx around in his arms, his tiny hiccuping body making Azriel’s thoughts spiral further with each violent hiccup.

The morning was fine - Nyx was an easy babe, he hasn’t displayed any powers yet, and he loved his family so much. Especially his uncles who shared the wings fixed to his tiny back.

Nyx’s gaze and hands always found their ways to Cassian and Azriel’s wings. The former would shoot his wings out to show his nephew just how large they were, the latter wraps his wings around Nyx, enveloping the two of them in a soft darkness.

Nyx had even fallen asleep on Azriel’s chest. He had laid down on the sofa next to Nyx’s crib in the living room, but the princeling kept babbling, waving his arms around frantically, fluttering his tiny wings. Eventually Azriel gathered he just wanted company, so he laid down on the plush sofa, Nyx curled up on his chest.

The babe lasted maybe 3 minutes before falling asleep. Azriel stayed completely still, long legs stretched out, feet dangling off the end. His shadows provided a comforting weight to the both of them, causing the shadowsinger’s eyes to grow heavier, until eventually he was fast asleep.

He woke up to a violent stirring on his chest, the babe in his arms hiccuping more violently than he thought possible. He didn’t let worry consume him until after 15 minutes of nonstop hiccuping, when he dispatched his shadows to search for books on babes.

-

You were shopping in Velaris, a new stack of books tucked into your arm when a tiny shadow wizzes up to you, circling around your body, its cool touch sending shivers up your skin.

It twirls around your body, as if inspecting you, before wrapping around your wrist and pulling you forward.

You chuckle, allowing the shadow to drag you wherever it sees fit.

It brings you to the townhouse and opens the door for you. You thank the shadow, and it gently caresses your cheek in a kiss before darting through the entryway.

You step inside, calling out, “hello?” Your voice carries through the house, until you see a head of onyx curls peak out over the threshold.

Looking as beautiful as ever, tortoiseshell glasses perched on his nose, Azriel looks at you, puzzled, before he looks at his group of shadows that follow him everywhere.

You walk towards him and he seems to be scolding one of them, his voice dropping as you got closer.

“I got ambushed by one of your shadows in the street. Do they do that to all the girls or just the pretty ones?” You ask, a light tease in your voice.

Azriel rolls his eyes at you, but continues on with whatever he’s doing.

You know something’s wrong because he doesn’t give your cheek a kiss as you walk past, so you look around trying to discern what could be wrong.

“Is everything okay, sweetheart?”

You turn to look at him, noticing his hair is in disarray. His hair always had a perfect level of messy to it - looking slightly mused, but as if every curl was meticulously placed. Now it looks like a mess of onyx on his head.

He sighs, looking at you. “I’ve been trying to figure out what’s wrong with Nyx.”

You notice that there are books strewn about the room, all on fae babes, all open to their indexes to search for key words.

“He won’t stop hiccuping.”

You try not to laugh, especially not with how seriously Azriel looked at you.

“Is he in his nursery?” You ask, moving towards the stairs.

“Yes,” he says, following behind you.

“Hi, Nyxy,” you coo, and the young babe just smiles at your attention, a tiny hiccup jolting his entire body. You get close to him, his arms extending to you as you pick him up.

He nuzzles into you, his wings lightly twitching at your attention. You rub his back, looking at Azriel as you do so.

“You know this is normal, right?” You ask, pacing the room with the young princeling in your arms.

“There’s no way it’s normal!”

You roll your eyes, “I’m a healer, babe, you could have asked me.” Your eyes move to Nyx’s, violet eyes peering back at you.

“It’s my job to know all about babes,” you say, fingers rubbing against Nyx’s chubby tummy. He giggles in response, and Azriel sits in the rocking chair in the corner, hands going over his face.

He sighs, clearly frustrated, and you can’t help but feel like his frustration isn’t just about Nyx.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, taking your eyes off of Nyx’s violet eyes to meet hazel ones.

Azriel sighs, coming over to you, burying his head into your neck as he wraps his arms, and wings, around you and Nyx. Inside of the little cocoon, Azriel mutters, “I wanted to prove to you that I could do this.”

You had a hard time hearing him as he was mumbling into your shoulder, so you ask, “I’m sorry, what was that?”

Azriel’s hands tightened slightly on your waist, repeating himself, and you ask, “that you could do what?”

His breath tickles your neck, “that I could do the whole “having a babe” thing.”

Your brows furrow, confused where this sudden insecurity cropped up from.

“Are you pregnant?”

He sighs, ignoring you, “I just wanted to prove that I could care for Nyx without your help for a bit. I know you’re a healer, but I don’t want you to find me incompetent.”

His shoulders slump a bit, “I know we’ve never really talked about it, but I guess I wanted to prove to you and to myself that.. that I could. That I could be soft and loving.”

You reach an arm around his waist, pressing Nyx between the two of you. The young prince hiccups, startling both of you.

“Oh, Azzy. I would never find you incompetent.”

He huffs, “and yet you came bursting through the door to help.”

“Because one of your shadows got me. Listen, babes are hard. And yeah there’s a lot to learn about taking care of them, but I fully believe you could do it.”

He lifts his head up, searching your eyes for some deception.

Nyx coos in your arms, and Azriel lifts one of the hands from your waist to cradle his head. The babe leans into Azriel’s touch, soaking in the attention from his uncle.

You smile at the two of them, “No one is born knowing exactly what to do or how to take care of someone else.”

His eyes return to you, his hand still fixed on Nyx’s head.

“But we can learn together, okay?”

You look up at him and a soft smile grazes his lips. “This isn’t fair - you have a head start on the material. Your job is literally taking care of others.”

You giggle, causing Nyx to shriek in delight.

“Guess you’ll just have to pick up more babysitting hours.”

besotted

pairing: Azriel x fem reader

word count: 3.7k

warnings: none, just tooth rotting fluff

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I've Been Waiting For You | Azriel

summary: Azriel finally meets the one he's been longing for. His mate.

warnings: mentions of death (since the suriel & reader are friends); some angst but also fluff because Az deserves to be happy ♡

a/n: This is part of my ABBA x ACOTAR series (masterlist) where I dedicate a song to a character (: The lyrics kind of reminded me of Alice & Jasper from twilight and how she had a vision of meeting him. This does go back and forth a lot in the beginning between past and present and came out longer than I thought it would. It's 9.6K words (which for me is long lol.) I apologize if there are any spelling errors. I've read this multiple times but somehow, always miss a couple.

As the moonlight dances upon the water's surface, the river transforms into a liquid ribbon of silver, weaving through the city of Starlight. Anticipation fills the air as Azriel walks across the bridge that spans the Sidra, his massive Illyrian wings glistening in midnight hues under the pale moonlight. 

Shadows play hide-and-seek as they travel through the night, drawn to the silhouette of a female figure. An intruder. Yet, Azriel's shadows dare to whisper something different into his ears.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice, carried by the wind, reaches him like a sweet caress, daring to awaken something deep within him. Beautiful. His shadows respond with a frenzy, a whirl of darkness singing wild tales into his ears, urging him forward. Meanwhile, his brain screams at the potential threat.

More tendrils of darkness dart toward you, ignoring their master’s orders to return. You don’t seem bothered by them. In fact, you seem to welcome them as if they’re old friends of yours. 

Azriel swallows, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, unsure what to make of this. 

“Who are you?”

Finally, you turn around and Azriel feels like the wind has been knocked out of him when his gaze meets yours. In the midst of the surrounding darkness, your eyes gleam with an inexplicable brightness. Specs of silver glimmer in your eyes, mirroring the stars above, as they shine back at him.  

“That’s for you to decide,” you reply with a smile that carries both hope and a sense of knowing as you follow after him and take a step forward.

“But for now, I’d like to speak with your High Lady.”

Months before…

The brilliance of a thousand stars shine down on you and the night seems to hold its breath, as if it too, awaits the whispered prophecies from the celestial expanse above. Like always, you are itching to unveil them with your finely attuned senses. A gust of cool wind brushes through your hair, sending shivers down your exposed skin. Pulling your gaze away from the night sky, you turn in time to see a cloaked figure approaching like a shadow in the night.

Your lips curve into a smile. “Hello, friend.”

“y/n.” The Suriel greets you, hovering beside you. Then, not missing another beat, he says, “I told her Rhysand was her mate.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a gasp escaping your lips. “You did not.”

“I did.” He grins back at you, flashing you his stained teeth.

You can’t help but laugh a little at your dear old friend. The Suriel lets out a rattled sound you discern as a laugh as he joins you. Always the one for dramatics. You still remember hearing about his first encounter with Feyre Archeron and how he told her to stay with the High Lord.

“I told her she must stay with the High Lord.”

“Did you specify which one?”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“I’m sure she handled it well,” you respond but your smile fades, giving way to a wistful expression. “She’s lucky. Not only is she made but the Cauldron has blessed her with a mate. The High Lord of the Night Court at that.”

The weight of his gaze settles upon you. You’re aware that your words carry a tinge of envy, a sentiment that feels unjust when considering everything Feyre has endured. The Suriel, ever perceptive, acknowledges this as well. He chooses not to remind you and indulges you instead.

“The Cauldron has blessed you as well, my child.”

“Have you seen it?”

Hope sparks in your eyes as you turn to face him. His eyes, pools of ancient wisdom, seem to pierce through the veils of time and secrets. You sense one of them unfolding. But he only gives you a teasing glimpse.

“Perhaps.” 

With a furrow in your brows, you lift your head back up to glare at the night sky. The stars seem to blink at you in a teasing manner, as if finding amusement in keeping this secret from you. 

“How come I haven’t seen it?”

“You will soon.” He reassures, following your gaze upwards. A dance of amusement swirls within the depths of his eyes.  “He’s waited centuries for you. Count your stars lucky that your waiting won’t be as long.”

Back to the present…

Velaris lived up to its name. A dream compared to the horrors of the city you grew up in. But as the city sparkles and comes to life at the darkening hour, all your attention is drawn to the male before you. He’s even more breathtaking in person. Everything about him is classically beautiful and the moon seems to agree, shining down on him and casting an ethereal glow on the golden-brown of his skin.

As Azriel continues to approach you, his wings fold gracefully behind him. His gaze is locked onto yours and though his eyes are cautious and analytical, there’s a warm shiver running down your spine. The desire to lose yourself in the hazel depths of his eyes becomes an irresistible pull.

Before you know it, the shadows brushing against your arms rise and come to rest against your eyes in a blindfold. Darkness engulfs you, and the sensation of weightlessness takes hold as Azriel winnows both of you. You land on a soft cushion–a chair. The dark tendrils leave your eyes and wrap around your wrists and legs, binding them together.

“Stay here.” Azriel says, the shadows wrapped around your limbs tightening in a silent warning.

A chuckle escapes from you and when your eyes meet his again, you flash him a mischievous smile. It widens when he’s the first to fold, quickly averting his gaze. He has no clue. You’re exactly where you want to be.

He leaves the room and your eyes finally take in your surroundings. Veiled curtains made of midnight blue silk drape the expansive windows, pulled back to allow moonlight to filter through. Shelves line the walls, housing collections of ancient artifacts and magical trinkets. A large desk, crafted from dark, polished wood rests before you. Your gaze fixates on the wall behind it, where a captivating portrait of the female you seek rests.

The door behind you swings open, and you turn to witness the graceful entrance of the female from the portrait. Feyre, the Cursebreaker and High Lady of the Night Court. She's a vision of night and beauty, her golden-brown hair cascading down her exposed back, revealing glimpses of moon phases etched along her spine.

“High Lady,” you say in greeting, bowing your head in respect.

Surprisingly, the High Lord doesn't accompany her. Instead, it's Azriel who trails behind her. Her calm blue eyes assess you as she takes a seat across from you. Azriel stands guard behind her and you feel his shadows watching your every breath. 

"And who might you be?"

“I’m y/n,” you respond, choosing your next words carefully. “An old friend of the Suriel’s. I’ve come to pledge my allegiance to you and offer my help.”

Something flickers in her blue eyes at the mention of the Suriel and her stoic expression falters, if only for a moment. You send her a sympathetic smile, your own heart aching at the mention of the fearsome creature you both held dear.

“Your help?” She echoes.

"She’s a seer," Azriel interjects, his voice setting your heart alight as there's no hint of disgust or apprehension in his tone.

Your kind is often regarded with hostility. He might not know your connection...yet. But he’s paid you enough attention to recognize your abilities and appears to be indifferent about them. If the Suriel were still alive, you know he’d laugh at your slight delusion.

"I am," you confirm. "And I know your sister is one too." You don’t miss the tension in Azriel’s body at the mention of the cauldron-made fae, but you don't dwell on it as you can also sense Feyre's protectiveness. "She has great potential. I can help her hone her skills. Together, we can—"

"No," Azriel growls protectively. His sharp interruption has you startling in your seat and hope deflates as you feel the intensity of his glare.

Feyre raises a hand, signaling him to stand back. “Why should I trust you?”

“Let me show you.”

Months before…

“By the Cauldron, what did you get yourself into?”

The Suriel grins mischievously, his tattered cloak barely clinging to his bony form. He graciously accepts the cloak you offer, a luxurious piece made of the softest velvet in the darkest shade of black you could find. A purr escapes him as he revels in its warmth. "Nothing," he responds coyly, the satisfaction evident in the bounce of his form as he hovers in the air.

You shoot him a pointed look, yearning to know what he was up to. You’re certain it was no good. “Sure,” you retort and then gesture toward the crackling fire you started. “I also made dinner.”

“You spoil me.”

“It’s what friends do.”

"Friend," he muses, the white pools of his eyes burning into your soul, as he turns to you. "As a friend, I should tell you that your dress is absolutely atrocious on you. Cobalt blue is more your color."

With a glare, you playfully throw the roasted chicken over the fire at his face. He effortlessly catches it with his mouth, cackling as he chews on the tender piece of meat.

"What do you know about fashion? All you do is thirst for robes."

“You forget that I am older than the bones of this world. I know everything about everything. I also cannot lie.”

"Doesn't stop you from hiding the truth," you respond cheekily, and he hums in agreement,

Silence falls as he seats himself beside you on the ground. He breaks it a couple of moments later. “Remember what I told you last time?”

You release a deep sigh because you do remember. The mere thought haunts you nearly every night, and you’re often burdened by the heavy weight of it. Your shoulders slump in response. “Why can't you do it yourself?”

“It is your fate, not mine,” he states simply, a reminder of the immutable laws of destiny.

“I’m not ready.” 

You don’t think you ever will be and suddenly, you’re that fragile sixteen year old again, who had to run away from the only place you called home to escape a cruel fate. The one who was left to navigate through her new onset of divine abilities alone.

That is, until, the fateful night you had thrown your cloak over a tree branch to dry. It had been stained by blood after a rough and almost deadly encounter with a stray naga so you had spent all morning cleaning it in the river nearby. Completely unaware of the Suriel you were summoning.

“You do not fear me?”

“That is mine,” you had said through clenched teeth with a deep rooted glare.

In the midst of your tug of war with the Suriel, your cloak tore in half. In that moment, you braced yourself for the dark creature's wrath. However, something in you captured his attention that day, and he chose not to unleash his fury upon you. He decided to take you under his wing instead.

He recognized your lineage without a single word spoken about it. He could sense your power coursing through your veins, waiting to be unraveled. After decades of patience and practicing, he was there to witness the formation of stars weaving themselves into the depths of your eyes. The mark of your seer abilities.

As always, the Suriel reads you like an open book. He can sense your insecurity, your hesitancy. But, in equal measure, he can sense your power, your potential.

“You will be,” he insists, his words carrying the unwavering certainty of the all-knowing creature he is. “You must guide and open the eyes of Elain Archeron the same way I did for you.”

Your throat tightens. “When?”

“Soon.”

And when you look up to gaze at the night sky, the stars align for you. A cascade of visions unfurls, pouring over you like a celestial waterfall. Your eyes become a myriad of galaxies and ears are teased with glimpses of conversations and whispers from the stars above. One moment, you’re in a forest, standing before a female figure crouched over a cloaked one. 

“The tracking…I knew of it.” 

Then, a rattling breath. “Leave this world a better place than how you found it.”

Abruptly, the scene shifts, and you stand in an enchanting city of starlight, gazing at the expansive river before you as anticipation fills the air. He comes for you. Azriel, the shadowsinger. The name resonates in the echoes of your mind.

Then, the final vision envelopes you, drawing you into the depths of mesmerizing hazel eyes. The voice that accompanies it is carried by the enchantment of night, gently caressing against your ears. 

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

Mate. That is your mate. Azriel, the–

“Do you see it now?”

With a sharp intake of breath, you’re pulled from the downpour of your visions, only to find your senses clouded with tears that pool at the corners of your eyes. How cruel, you think, your heart twisting in agony. And though meeting your mate–your fated companion–was among your greatest dreams, you no longer want it. Not if it means you’ll lose your greatest companion.

You can live without knowing your mate. After all, you’re doing so at this very moment. The Suriel has been your friend for decades. Two souls brought together by their mutual loneliness. An all knowing creature and a seer. Together, you’re a powerful duo, navigating through the fated intricacies of Prythian. You’d be lost without him.

“Please don’t go,” you’re begging.

The Suriel smiles but it’s not his usual mischievous grin. This time, a tinge of sorrow lingers in the curve of his lips, casting his expression in a veil of sadness.

“I have to. It’s my time to go,” he says. “Just promise me one thing?”

“Anything.”

“That when it’s your time to shine, you’ll find Feyre. Help her make this world a better place.”

Back to Present

Feyre blinks back tears as she withdraws from your mind. She turns her head toward the Shadowsinger behind her, and for a moment, fear grips you. You allowed her to see the revelation of Azriel being your mate but only because it was deeply entwined with the other pertinent visions.

“Release her.”

The shadows release their grip on you and you let out a deep exhale in relief. But the inky tendrils don’t leave your side. They linger and hover over you and at this, Azriel’s eyebrows furrow.

Feyre extends her hand out toward you. Her blue eyes are warm, a gentle reassurance that she’d harbor your secret for you. A smile graces her lips, one that you're happy to reciprocate.

“I’ll gladly accept your help but let me speak with Elain first. You may stay here. There’s a spare room upstairs. Azriel will show you around.”

Following his High Lady’s orders, Azriel shows you around the grand estate. He’s a bit reserved around you and you don’t blame him. Both a blessing and a curse, your visions offer insight into his world, yet you're a mere stranger imposing on the family he protects fiercely.

And as he finally shows you to your room, the one right next to his, you can only hope that someday, he’ll welcome you too. After all, he is your mate.

Elain Archeron is infinitely beautiful. Inside and out. She is gentle and sweet and you see why some mistake her kindness for weakness. But it took only days for you to become well aware of the strength and power she harbors deep within.

While your abilities were limited to what the stars wanted to show you, you sensed that hers were limitless. With the right training, she could summon visions at her call, anticipate anyone's move. You wanted to help her achieve that and prove those people that saw her as something fragile wrong. Though reluctant toward your help at first, Elain was kind enough to listen to you and consider the advice you gave. It took some further convincing but you knew she was itching to unravel the depths of her powers too.

But it's proving to be a challenge. A hard and exhausting one. You're not surprised. It took you many years to become attuned to your powers. What is surprising, however, are Azriel's feelings for her. They're obvious and plain to see and could you blame him? Elain is wonderful...and you can't help but compare yourself to her. She's everything you're not.

Upon your arrival, you had been set on making Azriel fall for you. That was, until, you realized he was already entangled in the threads of another's heart. Could it be that the Suriel, in his all knowing wisdom, purposefully shielded you from such revelations about your mate? To delay the shattering of your dreams?

Now, you were just content to focus on your task at hand. To help Elain the way the Suriel did with you, even if Azriel was there as a safety net for her every session. Even if the way he was well attuned to every shift of her expression sent a sharp pain stabbing through your heart. He was blissfully unaware of your connection, clouded by his affection for Elain.

And you were tired of chasing after males. It's why you shot down Feyre's suggestion of confessing to Azriel. You dreamed of having a mate, pleaded to the Cauldron even. Now, you realize, that you want Azriel to like you for you. To chose you too the way Feyre did with Rhysand. If Elain was the person he chose at the moment, then so be it.

"I don't chase. I attract," you told Feyre. The same words you had uttered to the Suriel years ago after he poked fun at you over a failed romance. One of many, unfortunately.

"The only thing you'll attract with that attitude of of yours is a dark cloud of shadows," The Suriel had laughed at you, earning an icy glare from you.

But Feyre is much nicer about it than your dear old friend. She gives you an encouraging smile instead and wishes you luck on your upcoming session with Elain.

Your session with Elain ends terribly–with her screaming in pain and Azriel glaring at you and telling you to go, despite your attempts at apologizing. You spend the following days, weeks even, trying to make up for it. You slowed down in pace in your exercises with Elain, despite her protests. She held no animosity toward you at the dark turn that session had made.

You also buried yourself into any book you could find about seers in the magnificent Night Court library, grieving and longing for the Suriel. He would know what to do, and know exactly how to help. It’s the mere thought of him that fuels your determination to keep trying, despite how much you want to leave. It’s laughable almost, how in the midst of so many people, the sense of loneliness weighs heavier on you than it ever did in the solitude of Prythian's forests.

But perhaps, a break wouldn't be such a bad idea? You think as your gaze lands on an intriguing cover. It's a work of pure fiction. The ideal escape from reality. Retrieving it from its shelf, you settle into one of the plush chairs and immerse yourself into the words etched onto the pages.

“Wake up, sleeping beauty.”

A nudge against your leg startles you awake, and as you blink away the remnants of sleep, your eyes widen at the sight of Azriel standing before you. Sleeping beauty, the words sink in, painting a soft blush over your cheeks.

“You missed dinner.”

“Oh.”

You turn your head, wincing at the dull ache in your neck from sleeping in an awkward position. The soft glow of the moon greets you through one of the library's windows. You don’t know when you had fallen asleep but you must’ve been out for hours. When you face Azriel again, your gaze drops to his hands, where he holds a carefully arranged plate of food. Your stomach growls as the scent hits you and your eyes linger on the generous serving of potatoes–your favorite–in comparison to the other vegetables and meat.

“Is that for me?” you ask, and immediately curse yourself for the seemingly silly question. You blame it on the lingering grasp of sleep, still reluctant to release its full grip on you.

"No, it's for the rats that come out at night," he replies, lips twitching upwards at the reaction it stirs from you. How the Suriel never scared you but a couple of hairy, smaller creatures do is beyond you. He places the plate on the small table beside you.

 "Yes, it's for you. A peace offering. For snapping at you."

"That was two weeks ago.”

"Bet you didn't see it coming," he teases, and you find yourself blinking in surprise. The Shadowsinger cracking a joke? It's a sight to behold. At least for you. 

Your eyes narrow. "Did Feyre send you?"

"No," Azriel replies simply, his tone carrying a sincerity that sets a flicker of hope alight in you. He then sighs. "I just realized I haven't been the most welcoming, that's all."

You smile in response and shift in your seat as you turn your body towards the food. The movement has the book in your lap falling. His hand reaches the book before yours could and the brush of your skin against his sends a delightful shudder through your body.

His eyes curiously look over the title and when he hands it back to you, you take note of the way he avoids looking at his scarred fingers. So you reach forward and brush your fingers against his again, letting them linger for a beat longer than before. Surprise flickers in his hazel eyes as he meets your gaze, but it vanishes as quickly as it appears.

“That book is one of my favorites," he says, his shadows dancing across his shoulders and peeking curiously at you. "I'm surprised you're into the mystery genre."

"Why?"

“Well, you’re hard to read sometimes. Like a mystery that refuses to be solved.”

An arched brow is your response, but the gleam in your eyes gives away more than you'd like. “Maybe I don’t want to be unraveled.”

Azriel's lips twitch upwards once more. “Maybe it just takes the right person.”

Bathed in the glow of sunlight, you and Elain sit across from one another on the soft bed of green grass. Meanwhile, Azriel leans against a tree, a couple of feet away. His gaze is intense as he watches you two. Too focused on not letting it faze you, you fail to catch the way it softens when he turns to you.

Azriel can’t help but frown when he catches you avoiding his gaze. He wonders if you still harbor some resentment toward the way he had snapped at you awhile back, even though he already apologized for it.

"Close your eyes and focus on your breath," he hears you instruct softly. "Feel the rhythm of the earth beneath you. Attune yourself to the heartbeat of the world around you. What do you hear?”

Elain closes her eyes in deep concentration. “I can hear the wind and the tremble of the grass beneath it. I can hear the wind carry all the way to the sea.”

“Good,” you say and though her eyes remain closed, you smile gently at her. A gesture that sends a rush of warmth through him.

“Now feel the whispers of the unseen.”

“I can’t.” Elain’s eyebrows furrow.

“Here, take my hands,” you say as you reach for hers. “Imagine a pool of water within you, calm and reflective. Use me as a vessel to carry you through it. I’ll guide you to where your visions will manifest.”

Elain does as told. The world stills around you two. You close your eyes. As Elain’s eyebrows relax, your own face contorts in concentration. Azriel feels himself tense when he realizes it’s not concentration etching onto your face–it’s pain. In a heartbeat, he’s kneeling before you and prying your hands apart.

“Stop!”

Your eyes snap open at the sudden disconnection, and Azriel is unsettled by the way you shrink back from him, panic widening your eyes.

“I’m not hurting her!”

But it’s not Elain he’s worried about. He hasn’t even spared her a glance. It’s you–you’re the one that’s hurt. Blood trickles down your nose and he’s urging you to lean forward, gently guiding you with his hands as Elain rushes for a towel.

“Are you okay?”

There’s a dull ache in your head but also one in your heart and you’re too disoriented to stop yourself from saying, “If you stop staring at me like that, I will be.”

Azriel releases a soft chuckle, his muscles relaxing in relief at the playful edge in your tone. Yet, his shadows, wanting to confirm you're okay themselves, flutter toward you in a delicate cloud of darkness.

"Like what?”

“Don’t make me answer that.”

And you’ve never felt more relief at the sight of Elain coming in between you with a towel in hand.

A sudden sound has you stirring from your sleep. Your hand instinctively slides under your pillow, fingers grasping for the dagger you always keep with you when sleeping. The sound comes again and your initially alarmed body relaxes as you recognize it as the sound of someone knocking. Wrapping a robe around your night shift, you head toward the door, expecting Elain on the other side. 

Upon opening your door, you’re surprised to find Azriel standing on the other side.

“You’re not going to Starfall?”

“Good morning to you too.”

Azriel’s eyes rake over your form, taking in your disheveled state. His lips curl into a faint smile. "It's noon," he observes in an amused manner.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you pivot your head toward the clock that hangs on the wall of your room. There, confirming his statement, the hands point a half hour past twelve. You overslept. You didn’t have any plans today and it seems your exhausted body took advantage of it.

“Is everything okay?”

His voice, laced with genuine concern, draws your attention back to him. The soft furrow of his brow and the warmth in his eyes catch you off guard. You hesitate. You don’t want to lie but you also don’t want to burden him with the truth.

So you settle for a, “Why?”

"I've noticed you haven't been sleeping much," he remarks, and before you can interrupt, he gestures toward his room, the one adjacent to yours. A silent acknowledgment that he's been more attentive than you realized. It pulls at the strings of your heart. "Or attending family dinners, and now Feyre tells me you're not going to Starfall?"

The weight of his observations presses on you. You didn’t think anyone had noticed.  "Why do you care?" you retort, your words sharper than intended, and a wince follows.

"Isolation is not a good coping method," he responds, his tone steady and unfazed by your sharpness. "Trust me, I know."

"I don't have a dress."  The words escape your lips, but even as you say them, you recognize the feebleness of the excuse.

“I’ll buy you one.”

Heat rises to your cheeks, and you feel a telltale blush spreading as the thought of Azriel buying you a dress takes root. He’s just being nice, you tell yourself. His gaze remains fixed on you, hazel eyes bright and gleaming with curiosity, as if daring you to come up with another excuse.

“Starfall is tomorrow.”

Azriel grins at you. It sends a flutter through your heart and you wonder if he can hear the erratic beat of it. 

“Better make haste and get dressed then. We’ve got a couple of hours before the shops close.”

You deliberately take extra time getting ready, a mix of anticipation and apprehension swirling within you as you prepare to spend time with Azriel. Half-expecting a hint of annoyance, you finally open the door to your room, only to find Azriel with a welcoming smile that has the bond in your chest humming. Still, you're met with silence at the other side.

You take a deep breath as he gestures for you to follow him. As you step outside, he offers his arm and winnows you, not wanting to waste anymore time. You both find yourselves in the bustling shopping plaza of Velaris, where the fragrance of blooming flowers and the animated chatter of people embrace you.

Elaborate Starfall-themed displays adorn the shops, enticing you inside. Suddenly, the sheer array overwhelms you, and an urge to step back washes over you. Azriel place a hand on your back, stopping you and guiding you towards one of the shops.

“Welcome!” A voice happily chirps. “How can I help you?”

A stunning female enters your line of sight, her gaze immediately fixating on the male standing behind you. Her lips curve into a captivating smile, causing a twinge of jealousy to flicker within you. It’s short lived as Azriel clears his throat, gently nudging you forward.

“We’re looking for a dress for her.” Azriel speaks for you.

“Splendid! What’s the special occasion?”

“Starfall.” Azriel answers.

The female’s eyes widen, her smile morphing into a strained one. “I’m afraid I’ve sold all my best work already.”

“Oh, that’s alright. Sorry for the trouble,” you quickly reply, attempting to conceal the relief in your voice. Turning to leave, Azriel's hands land on your shoulders, directing you back to face the female.

“I’m sure we can find something in here,” Azriel reassures with a polite smile, scanning the aisles of dresses. “Y/n isn't picky. Right?”

“I can be,” you mumble under your breath.

Azriel lets out a sound, what you discern as a muffled chuckle. He gives your shoulder a squeeze and then leans down toward your ear. “If I were you, I’d take advantage of the situation.”

You turn your head slightly and regret it immediately. It takes all your strength to hold back the shudder your body wants to give at his proximity. He’s so close you can feel his breath fanning against your neck and you wonder what it would feel like to have his lips pressed against that sensitive skin.

It surprises you how quickly you find your voice.

“I’m going to pick the most expensive one.”

“Go ahead,” Azriel says and you can hear the smirk in his voice without having to look at him. He doesn’t allow you to get another word in, urging you forward again to where the female patiently awaits for you.

She lightly grasps your arm, leading you toward a rack of dresses in various styles and colors while Azriel makes himself comfortable on the couch by the fitting room. “You are a lucky lady,” she muses, her hands gracefully exploring the textures of her creations. “I’ve had this shop for centuries and you’re the first lady the Shadowsinger has brought to me.”

A blush warms your cheeks as you divert your attention to the array of beautiful dresses. Each one is a work of art, making you question her earlier claim about not having her best work available. If these weren't her finest creations, the thought of what her best work looked like leaves you intrigued.

The female, who’s name you learn is Willow, has you try on a couple of dresses that differ in styles. You’re reluctant to show Azriel each one but given he’s paying for it and the only other one in this shop, you feel like he should have some say.

“Do you like it?” Willow beams at you, admiring her work.

On the fifth dress, your hands run over the tulle of the vibrant yellow skirt. The fabric feels itchy against your skin, and the color is too bold for your taste. You swear you are not trying to be picky, despite what you told Azriel earlier. 

“I li–”

“Let’s try another?” Azriel cuts in as if sensing the lie that was about to unfold. He rises from his seat toward one of the racks and pulls out a dress that caught his eye earlier. “How about this one?”

He holds the dress out to you, smiling softly when you take it from him. It’s much simpler compared to the other dress you’ve tried on but still just as elegant. It’s also soft against your skin. Willow guides you back into the fitting room, deftly assisting you out of the vivid yellow dress and into the cobalt blue silk one.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see it before. Cobalt blue is more your color!" Willow says as she gushes over you.

Her choice of words leaves you momentarily stunned. Cobalt blue is more your color. The exact words the Suriel had spoken to you. Also, the exact same shade as Azriel's siphons. The Suriel must’ve enjoyed himself a lot when he said those words to you. That sneaky little creature... You can hear his laugh echoing through your mind.

As you finally emerge from the dressing room, Azriel can’t help but stare. The fabric drapes gracefully around you, accentuating curves he hadn't noticed before. Sensing his prolonged gaze, your eyes meet his. It was him quickly averting his gaze, a subtle flush coloring his cheeks. He clears his throat, attempting to regain his composure.

"This is the one. It looks…good on you," he manages to say, his voice slightly strained.

“It’s 500 gold marks.”

He picks up on the teasing in your tone and the way Willow shakes her head in reassurance at him. Still, he humors you and says, “I don’t care.”

He’d pay more than 500 gold marks just to make you happy.

Azriel battled with restless thoughts that night, unable to find solace in sleep. Each time he closed his eyes, the vivid image of you in that dress invaded his mind. He couldn’t wait to see you in that dress again. Maybe then, he’d have the courage to compliment you better.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and the first guests arrived for the Starfall celebration, Azriel's eyes eagerly scanned the gathering crowd, seeking a glimpse of you. Just as a twinge of disappointment crept in, his shadows stirred, signaling your proximity. His wings twitched with anticipation, and his breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. You are absolutely stunning. Breathtaking. 

In an instant heartbeat, he’s pushing Cassian, who was ready to fly you up to the House of Wind, aside. With a warning look, Cassian steps away with a chuckle.

"You're here," he whispers, a blend of disbelief and relief saturating his breath.

“Well a very nice male spent a lot of money for me to be here.”

“Well I’m glad.” Azriel chuckles, eyes drinking you in again. Savoring you. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

Azriel flushes at the unexpected compliment and his shadows to come to life around him. He smiles at you. “Shall we?”

He waits for your nod before carefully hooking an arm beneath your knees, eyes never leaving yours. A thrill courses through him as he revels in the sensation of your arms around his neck, taking delight in the way you feel in his arms. His wings unfurl behind him, preparing for the short flight up. The sound has your eyes fluttering shut, arms tightening around him and face burying into his neck. He finds it absolutely endearing. He never wants to let you go.

Against his wishes, the flight up to the balcony was short. He sets you down, helping you regain your footing, a lingering touch before reluctantly releasing you. There’s still more guests he, unfortunately, has to fly up. It’s as if you sense his internal conflict because you’re turning around to face him, eyes bright and alight.

“Yes, Azriel. I’ll save you a dance.”

The way his name rolls off your tongue sends a thrill up his spine. He opens his mouth to say something but once again, you beat him to it.

"Thought I'd save you the question," you stated, an all-knowing grin gracing your features as you tapped the corner of one of your eyes. Ah, so you had a vision of him. He wonders about the other glimpses you might have seen.

He doesn’t have too much time to dwell on it as Elain is rushing toward you, showering you with compliments. He takes that as his cue to depart. He is determined to finish his tasks in bringing the remaining guests up as fast as he can so that he can return to you and that dance you promised.

Azriel finds himself stealing glances whenever he thinks you won’t notice. The sparkle in your eyes, the way the dress accentuates your features–he can't look away. Caught up in the melody of your laughter, provoked by something Elain said, Azriel and his shadows are too mesmerized in the beauty of you to notice Feyre approaching until she speaks.

"She’s beautiful," Feyre remarks, her eyes following the same path as Azriel's gaze.

A soft affirmation escapes Azriel's lips. "Yes."

Feyre, well aware of the answer, delves further. "You bought her that dress?"

“Yes.”

A mischievous gleam flickers in Feyre's eyes as she delivers her next statement. "You like her." 

Azriel's response slips out before he can even grasp the depth of his own admission. "Yes."

He turns to Feyre, his wide eyes betraying the shock of his own revelation. A slight pallor washes over his skin, and Feyre chuckles at his reaction. Sensing the tension in the air, she rests a reassuring arm on his shoulder. “I like her too,” she confesses.

Though, both of them recognize that Azriel's feelings for you run deeper and in more intricate ways than Feyre's own fondness.

“I offered her a place in this court. She said she’d think about it. Maybe you can convince her? The same way you convinced her to come to Starfall,” Feyre says and then with one last pat on his shoulder, she makes her way back toward Rhysand.

Still recovering from the revelation of his own feelings, it takes a while longer for the weight of Feyre’s words to sink in. A mixture of surprise, uncertainty, and a flicker of hope plays out across his features. You weren’t planning on staying? The thought of you leaving–leaving him stirs a feeling in his chest. His eyes seek you out again but you’re no longer standing beside Elain.  

In your place, stands Lucien and normally the sight would trigger dark emotions from him. But now? He feels nothing. There’s no sense of envy. His affections have shifted elsewhere.

Azriel’s shadows fall to the floor, slithering against the cool tile like serpents of the night. They lead the way directly to where you stand, by the champagne table. He makes his way toward you and you're downing the rest of the liquid in your glass.

“Azriel.” You smile at him.

“It’s time for you to fulfill the promise you made me.”

“Of course,” you reply, offering him your hand.

Azriel gracefully pulls you into his embrace. One hand wraps around yours while the other rests on your waist. The enchanting melody guides your movements as the two of you glide across the floor.

“Feyre told me she offered you a role in this court.”

Your eyes, wise and mysterious, meet his, and he feels your body tense under his hold. “What else did she tell you?”

“That you’d think about it,” he says, the rhythm of the dance allowing for a moment of ease to settle between you. “You should stay.”

“Why?”

A wistful expression colors your features and the soft glow of stars are reflected in your eyes. The music comes to a gradual end and you free yourself of his hold before the next song begins.

“There’s no one here for me.” You admit and then give a small laugh as you look down. There's a deep, haunting sadness to your laughter, striking a chord within him.

“I’m right here.” 

Lifting your head back up, your eyes search his for something with a glimmer of hope. An eternity seems to pass in your gaze. A frown settles over your lips and he feels a tinge of sadness. Whatever you sought, it seems you did not find it.

Suppressing the surge of emotions within him, his hand reaches for yours again. He guides you to somewhere more private, toward one of the balconies that is off limits to the guests. “Talk to me,” he says, his words carrying an invitation for you to unburden your heart.

Your hands grip onto the railing before you and attention is directed up towards the night sky. He mirrors your actions, resting his hands close to yours. So close he can feel your warmth but not close enough to touch.

"It feels weird being here," you sigh deeply. "My mother and I used to sneak out of Hewn City on Starfall just to catch a glimpse of these migrating spirits every year...until she realized what I was. She said I was a curse, said she would turn me into Keir and let him have his way with me if I didn't leave."

Azriel's fingers clench into a white knuckled grip at your words.

"Not that leaving a horrible city such as Hewn was exactly a punishment. It was probably for the best. Still didn't stop me from being scared. It was the first time in my life that I was actually alone. I learned how to survive."

"I met the Suriel a year later. He must've taken pity on me and would visit me without being summoned. Sometimes, it'd be to tease me with some gossip. Other times, to annoy and chide me for my mistakes. Most importantly, he taught me how to not only survive on my own but live alone. I don't know, it's probably silly but I just felt a lot less lonely when I was actually alone than I do here."

“It’s not silly. I used to feel that way too.” Azriel admits and after a moment of silence, he’s turning toward you.  “Am I not your friend?”

“I don’t know,” you find yourself saying again, uncertainty clouding your expression. Pausing, you tear your gaze from the night sky to look at him. “Do you want to be?”

“Yes,” Azriel smiles at you. And so much more. 

You smile back at him but it doesn’t last long. Turning your head to face directly ahead, you bite the inside of your cheek in hesitation, revealing to Azriel that there’s more troubling you than your sense of loneliness.

“What else?” 

“There’s nothing else.”

“y/n.”

“I feel like a failure.”

Azriel's eyes widen, his heart sinking to his stomach. “You’re not,” he reassures quickly.

“I–I just,” you stammer, the weight of self-doubt evident in your voice. “It’s nearing four months since I’ve arrived, and I feel like I’ve barely scratched the surface with Elain.”

“How long did it take you to harness your abilities?”

“Decades,” you respond, the admission carrying a hint of sheepishness. “But Elain is different. This is different. I don’t want to disappoint her. Disappoint Feyre. The world we know is crumbling apart, and we don’t have time. If–if we cannot fix it before it’s too late, I will have failed him.”

“Hey, look at me.”

When you don’t, Azriel lightly grips your chin, coaxing your gaze to him. “You’re here, aren’t you? You’re honoring his wish by just being here. Keep trying,” he encourages, wiping away your tears. “I’ll be here with you every step of the way. You’re not alone. We’ll face this together.”

“Together?”

He releases his hold on you, resting his hand once more on the rail. This time, it’s even closer to yours.

“Together,” he confirms, heart swarming with warmth when your hand bridges the gap between you and brushes against his. 

And finally, it seems your lonely days are through.

Azriel’s been in love before. Twice. Or at least, he thought it was love. One was unrequited, a silent ache he carried within. The other was forbidden, a love he had clung to with misguided hope. He was beginning to come to the begrudging conclusion that love was simply not meant for him.

Then, you came along. Strange as it seems, you've seemed to have brought back that old feeling to him, awakening something deep inside of him. And though he doesn't know what you did, he thinks--he hopes that you could be the one. The one to possibly release him from the chains of solitude and longing.

You've rarely left his mind since the night he met you. The echoes of your first words to him lingered in his mind long after your encounter, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

Your voice was cloaked in both mystery and certainty, as though you held the threads of destiny within your grasp. It prompted him to ask who you were but your answer, “that’s for you to decide” only gave rise to more questions. 

Then, there was that smile. So beautiful, so hopeful. It etched itself into the recesses of his memory. It was a smile no one had ever bestowed upon him before and one he longed to see it again.

And he almost ruined it all–that day he snapped at you after a session gone wrong with Elain. Your intentions were always pure. He knew this. No one was at fault as everything that transpired between you and Elain was completely consensual. But the scream that tore through Elain sent him in a heightened frenzy. He had sworn to Rhysand and Feyre, his High Lord and High Lady, that he would protect Elain. Before he could properly assess the situation, he had roughly pushed you aside with a growl. The hurt that flashed in your eyes in response haunted him nearly every night.

You began to actively avoid his gaze and presence whenever possible, and guilt gnawed at him relentlessly. Even his shadows, missing your attention, seemed angry with him. Truth be told, he was angry with himself too. You had made friends with everyone. Everyone but him.

The following two weeks became a series of futile attempts at groveling, your obliviousness to it all cutting deeper than he cared to admit. The breaking point came when you missed dinner, and he knew it was time to set things right then. So he sent his shadows to look for you and when they reported back to him that you were sleeping in the library, he brought your dinner to you.

After that moment, the atmosphere between you two shifted. He became the chaser, gradually closing the distance between you.

You looked his way more, approached him with a newfound openness, and your conversations became more frequent. You teased him at times, even, with your cryptic words. But rather than frustrating him, it only made him seek you out more. He wanted to be the one to unravel the mystery that was you.

Somewhere down the line, his eyes stopped searching for Elain's. The private moments he sought with her became mere echoes of the past—no more lingering touches, exchanged glances, or pointless conversations. Instead, it was you who occupied the center of his attention, infiltrating his dreams and igniting desires he never knew he harbored.

You eased him like no other, effortlessly coaxing smiles and laughter from him. It was in these moments that the realization struck him like a bolt of lightning—he had never truly been in love during the first two instances. What he felt for you was different. He was unwilling to let his feelings linger in the shadows, as they had done before. He yearned for them to step into the light. To be acknowledged and acted upon openly.

He decided to wait until after Solstice to confess to you and hoped that your visions wouldn't give him away.

Laughter and clinks of wine glasses ring through the air. Azriel knows it’s time to open presents, his shadows singing loudly and overwhelming him with information. Cassian is sneaking a peak. Rhysand is rolling his eyes. Elain got Lucien a present. y/n is holding back tears.

Azriel tenses at the last bit of information, eyes immediately finding you. You’re seated beside Feyre–the two of you exchanging smiles. There’s an unwrapped present on your lap and his shadows dart toward it. It’s a small portrait of the Suriel. He hears you thank Feyre and he swears he can feel your ache of grief. He moves to stand from his seat but Elain stops him.

“Happy Solstice,” she says, holding out a small present. He takes the box albeit reluctantly but politely and opens it to find two tickets to an upcoming play. 

Elain smiles at the frown he’s trying to hide.

"Elain, I can't--"

“Y/n mentioned always wanting to go see a play. I thought maybe you could be the one to take her. After you confess."

His eyes search hers for any traces of hurt. He’s relieved when he finds none but the frown in his brow remains. “How–”

“She trained me well," Elain replies, eyes shining with an all knowing gleam he's seen in yours. "She deserves to be happy. You both do and something tells me that she’s the one you’ve been waiting for.”

Gods, you and Elain have been hanging out so much with one another that now she’s beginning to talk like you. There's a tightening in his chest, like a band about to snap at her words.

Azriel looks back at Elain in question but she only smiles at him once more before retreating back to where she was sitting previously. Next to Lucien, who also sends a smile his way.

Looking down at the tickets, he thinks of you again. His shadows stir, mirroring the strange sensation in his chest. It’s almost like a pull and his shadows guide him toward it, turning his head for him. Just in time to catch a glimpse of you quietly slipping away from the festivities. His steps quicken as he follows you, pulling his coat along with him.

The soft flakes of snow flutter down, a delicate dance in the winter night. Despite weeks of continuous snowfall, the enchanting beauty of it never fails to captivate you. It differs markedly from the unforgiving snowstorms you endured while wandering the Night Court's forests. Though just as cold, it prompts an involuntary shiver, a reaction to the biting chill in the air.

As the door behind you creaks open, a rush of warmth accompanies its movement. The scent of cedar invades your senses, growing more intense as you feel a fabric drape over your shoulders, bringing forth an intimate warmth.

"Hey," Azriel breathes, a visible puff of white escaping his lips.

"Hi," you smile back at him, your fingers instinctively reaching for the coat that draped over your shoulders. You can't help but notice the thin sweater he wears. "Won't you be cold, though?"

Azriel stops you, securing his coat back onto your smaller frame with a reassuring smile. “I grew up in a camp where it snowed a lot more than this. I’ll be fine.”

You look back up at the night sky. The stars are shining so bright. It makes you wonder if they ever tire. They seem to answer you as their radiant beams cast a celestial glow upon you. Your vision blurs in surrender.

“What are you seeing?” Azriel inquires, curious. He hopes it's not the confession he's aching to spill.

Your eyebrows knit together, and you close your eyes, immersing yourself in deciphering the messages woven between the stars. Upon opening your eyes, you turn to Azriel, a teasing smirk playing on your lips.

“You're going to get frostbite."

Azriel lets out an amused huff. "I don't care. As long as you're warm."

"We should head back inside," you suggest.

"No," Azriel insists, enfolding a wing around your form, anchoring you in place. His shadows can sense you don't want to go back inside yet. "I like being alone with you."

The wind nips at your cheeks, a sensation you welcome as it gives the perfect excuse for the blush creeping across your face. Tearing your gaze away from Azriel before he can discern his effect on you, you quietly share, "Nyx is going to say his first word in three days."

Azriel leans forward and you can feel his anticipation. A familial bet circulates among his uncles and aunts (save for Elain) regarding what the young heir’s first word will be. “What is it?”

“Cas.”

Azriel can't resist glancing back toward the house, his eyes narrowing with a mix of suspicion and curiosity. There, he catches a fleeting glimpse of Cassian playfully hoisting Nyx in the air, the two engaged in a lively game of chase around the living room. When he turns his attention back to you, mischief twinkles in your eyes.

“You’re lying.”

“You fell for it."

And that smile he’s been longing for since he met you graces your lips as you laugh. A sweet and beautiful sound that warms the winter air. Azriel's gaze dips toward your lips, captivated by the sound, before lifting back to meet your eyes. He leans in even closer.

“I fell for you.”

You also lean in, eyes never leaving his. "The answer is yes."

"What?"

Azriel nearly stumbles back, caught off guard, but you remain close, lifting a hand and cradling his cheek. It's surprisingly warm and he instinctively leans into your touch. His eyes widen. Did you—

“To you taking me on a date,” you reveal, your smile deepening, and he swears his shadows snicker in response. “The vision I just saw. It was of me and you at a theater. Next Friday at seven.”

“Next Friday at seven,” Azriel confirms, a tender affection lighting up his expression.

The air seems to shimmer with the promise of an enchanting future. You reach out, tugging at the bond in your chest. Once again, there is only silence. Yet, you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. Not when Azriel is gazing at you as though you are the very stars illuminating the night sky.

And then you're kissing him.

The snow crunches underfoot as Azriel moves, his usually keen senses dulled. His mind is elsewhere, consumed by thoughts of you. Even as the icy missiles fly past him, Azriel remains lost in the memories of shared glances and smiles and the way your lips felt so perfect against his last night.

For the first time in years, Azriel finds himself on the losing side of the annual snowball fight. Oddly, no disappointment lingers, even after meticulous planning for this anticipated victory. All he wants is to return home—to you.

Amidst the snowy chaos, revelation strikes him simultaneously with a snowball from Rhysand. The snap, the bond—everything falls into place. It all makes sense now. Your words when you first met. Elain’s words last night at Solstice. Why your presence thrilled and delighted him. Why he couldn't shake the feeling of love and adoration for you.

You are his mate. 

The one he had been longing and pleading for, and the realization left him breathless. He shakes the snow from his face and Rhysand blinks back at him in surprise. The High Lord had been expecting a glare but he only finds pure shock on Azriel’s face.

“Oh come on, I didn’t hit you that hard,” he teases.

“I have to go.”

“If you leave, you’re forfeiting,” warns Cassian, but the glint in his eye betrays a desire for Azriel to leave, eager for a victory.

“I yield,” Azriel says mindlessly, surprising even Rhysand. Feeling his friend's talons probing his mind, Azriel throws up his shields and disappears into his shadows, abandoning the snow-covered battlefield. He'll explain later.

For now, he has to find you.

His shadows winnow him back to the River house and he doesn’t have to look for long because there you are, making your way down the last step and standing in his path. There’s not much that surprises you but that has changed since meeting Azriel and this moment is no different. Your eyes are widening, mouth parting.

“Azriel," you say. "What are you doing here? I thought you were–”

“It’s you,” Azriel interrupts breathlessly as if he was running, chest rising and falling quickly in step with the erratic beating of his heart. He’s bridging the distance between you. “All this time. It’s been you.”

You swallow thickly. “You know?”

The glimmer of hope that had ignited during Starfall returns to your eyes, revealing a world he hadn’t realized existed. How could he have been so blind?

Azriel smiles at you and it’s as if that’s the last piece to the puzzle as the bond between you both comes to life, singing loudly against your chests. He pulls you flush against him and spins you around, eliciting a delightful squeal from you. Cradling your face in his hands, he kisses your forehead, then the corners of your eyes. He saves your lips for last, lingering in the sweet taste of them for a moment longer.

“You’re my mate,” he says quietly, leaning his forehead against yours.

“Yes,” you manage to whisper back, surrendering yourself to the depths of his mesmerizing hazel eyes, just like in the vision from months ago. And it’s not you who speaks again but Azriel.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

a/n: hope you all enjoyed this (: It took me longer to write than I thought because i'm used to writing more angst for Az than fluff but I wanted this to be different. It's canon that Elain found out that reader and Az were mates through a vision around the same time she decided to give Lucien a chance. I just want them all to be happy ♡ in terms of my ABBA x ACOTAR series, I think I'll work on another one for Cas next inspired by Honey, Honey. If you'd like to be tagged, just let me know!

tagging: @hellodarling1357

if you want to read more about Az x Seer reader, I wrote a couple of bonus scenes that didn't quite make the final cut. You can read them here.

|| notes: hi it's been a minute but inspired by the sticker I now have that says 'Illyrians and their wingspans" lmao

|| warnings: nothing, fluff, a little suggestive

Lazy days were rare for Azriel. Perhaps it was the lull of the sun outside or his own exhaustion catching up to him, but he found himself sprawled over you on your shared bed. Not unlike a large cat, you mused, for the way he draped himself, face tucked into your neck and breathing soft.

It was the slow glide of your fingers through his hair that relaxed him further, leaning into your touch as his wings relaxed, stretching out across the bed with a quiet rustle of movement.

You'd always liked his wings. They were beautiful, just like the rest of him. Reaching out, you set a fingertip against the top, running it along towards where they met his back.

Azriel froze against you, and you withdrew your hand immediately. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," Azriel answered, though there was an undercurrent of tension in his voice. "They're sensitive, that's all."

"Oh." You sighed softly. "I should have asked, I'm sorry."

Your mate shook his head, tucking himself tighter against you. He was quiet for a few moments before he murmured softly, "I want you to touch me."

You swallowed, reaching out slowly to graze your fingers over the edge of his wing again, noting the full body shudder that went through him. You kept your touch gentle, barely there — but it still evoked a reaction, the twitch and squirm of him over you.

Azriel was pretty, but he also made pretty noises. The soft hitch in his breath as you traced the junction of his wing to his back was definitely one you could get used to hearing, truthfully.

"You're teasing me," he finally huffed when he'd had enough of your gentle touches, nipping at your neck when you laughed. "You know exactly what you're doing to me."

You hummed, mischief in your tone as you shifted underneath him, shiver of pleasure sliding down your spine at the hard press of him against your inner thigh. "Do I? Maybe I need you to tell me."

Azriel pulled back enough to look at you, eyes dark as he eyed your lips, then smirked. "With pleasure."

|| smthing cute for Monday! [AS!Reader Masterlist]

|| warnings: fluff, reader being adorable, Az being a good dad and mate, technically all three kids are in this

Azriel wakes to an empty bed. His shadows tell him that you're gone first, whispers tumbling over each other as he reaches out to feel the space you usually occupy. It's still faintly warm, your scent still fresh — you haven't been out of bed long.

Getting up, his first instinct is to check on Aria, to see if you're with your daughter. You'd been adamant as of late about giving her extra attention, worried that the slow shift in focus to her pending status as an older sister would upset her.

Aria is fast asleep in her bed, unaware of her father's presence as his gaze sweeps over her, taking in the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest, deep in dreamland. Safe and sound — and you aren't here.

Azriel frowns, worry growing, until a shadow informs him that you're downstairs. He lingers long enough to press a soft kiss to Aria's temple before he turns, intent on making sure that you're okay.

He isn't sure what to expect, but the sight of you leaning over a bowl of peaches to catch the juice that drips from your fingers is not in his wheelhouse. You look up as he approaches, and you give him a sheepish, apologetic look. "I really wanted peaches."

Relieved that you aren't in distress, Azriel moves to your side, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I see."

"Want one?" You offer a slice that he takes, lips parted and eyes locked on yours, pleased to incite the glimmer of heat in your gaze before he pulls away to chew the soft fruit. "I'll come back to bed once I'm done, I promise."

"It's okay," Azriel soothes, though he crouches so that he's eye-level with the rounded swell of your stomach. "I think these two need to be more considerate of your sleep schedule, though."

"Good luck telling them that," you mumble, humming as he reaches out to span his fingers over your belly, rubbing gently. It's quiet for a moment before you suck in a soft breath that makes Azriel tense — and then still at the fluttering movement beneath his fingers. "That was a kick," you tell him, attention now on your stomach as well.

Azriel shifts his hand, looking up at you as there's another kick that moves to follow his hand. Your eyes lock, your lips quirking into a soft smile that has him leaning up, hand still on your stomach as he kisses you.

Later, when you're back in bed and tucked rightfully against him, Azriel allows himself to savor the feeling of his unborn children moving against his hand, and the taste of peaches on his tongue.

gone.

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 2K (It's just a little drabble really)

Warnings: Angst, feelings of not being good enough, unrequited love, rejection, read Az's bonus chapter as this is kind of a different ending to it!

Summary: Sometimes it take's heartbreak to move on.

You’re not too sure how you found yourself here. Ensnared in a moment you shouldn’t have been a part of. Pressed against the wall, you couldn't escape the damning truth unfolding before you.

Fate, in its cruel irony, had thrust you into the heart of your deepest fear. It seemed as though destiny itself was spelling out the bitter reality—you would never be his, he would never desire you.

The gift box, wrapped in a serene shade of blue, felt like an anchor against your chest, the weight of it crushing against your heart and yet anchoring you to this spot all the same. With trembling hands, you clutched it tightly, your other hand clasped around your mouth in an attempt to contain the tumult of emotions threatening to spill over. You hadn't intended to intrude, only to find Azriel this Solstice and share your heart with him. After years of wrestling with your feelings, you had finally summoned the courage to confess to your best friend, hoping that maybe he might reciprocate.

But it was a futile dream. How foolish you had been to imagine that you would be the one to replace his infatuation with Mor.

No of course it wouldn’t be you, for hundreds of years you hadn’t been able to steer him from his longing of Mor. It had to be another, the lovely Elain Archeron.

The scent of their arousal hung heavy in the air. You should have moved, but you were frozen in place. Your eyes glued on their figures as you watched them draw one another close. It was as if the Gods were forcing you to accept your reality– you would never be good enough for him. 

You swallowed hard, stopping the nauseating sensation rising up your throat. You were losing all control here, completely succumbing to your emotions. You weren’t sure what you would do if you actually saw them kiss.

At the top of the stairs, Rhys suddenly stood, his fury palpable as he observed the scene below. A silent exchange passed between him and his brother, you had known Rhys and Azriel for so long that you were always aware of their mind conversations. However, you never knew what was said. But by Azriels indifference, you could tell it wasn’t good.

Before Rhys winnowed away, his gaze found you. Your figure hidden in the shadows, his expression faltering as his eyes locked with yours, confusion spread across his features and then pain– pain for you.

You hadn’t realised till then, how your salty tears had slipped down your face. Wetting the floor beneath you. How they had revealed how you truly felt, something you thought you’d always kept so well hidden.

And perhaps here in your weakest moment, your own mental shields hadn’t been the strongest. Your anguish spilling over to whoever was able to feel.

With a fierce swipe, you brushed the tears away.

You watched as Azriel left to find Rhys, leaving a bewildered and confused Elain to collect herself before she ran out of the foyer. It was then the emotions overcame you.

You sank down against the wall, the tears flowing freely now, your quiet sobs echoing through the empty corridor. You had been so foolish.

You had seen the signs, noticed the bond growing between Azriel and the middle Archeron sister. Yet, you had dismissed it as nothing more than Azriel's innate kindness, his dedication to helping Elain adjust to Fae life like the rest of you had also supported. It never occurred to you that his actions held some deeper meaning.

And Rhys's fleeting glance had only added to your humiliation. To how stupid you had been. You didn't need his pity or anyone else's. 

You already hated yourself enough for your naivety and foolishness.

The gift box lay abandoned beside you, a painful reminder of your misplaced affection. With trembling hands, you tore off the ribbon and unwrapped it, revealing the carefully chosen present inside. It was a handmade sheath for Azriel’s dagger, Truth Teller. Beautifully made from leather, with six subtle stones set along the top.

Purple, for Rhys. Red for Cassian. Blue for Azriel. Followed by Violet for Amren, Crimson for Mor and Sapphire for you. The original six. His first found-family.

As you traced the stones with trembling fingers, memories of simpler times flooded your mind. The dynamic of your found family had shifted with the arrival of the Archeron sisters, whom you loved dearly. But their presence had irrevocably altered the delicate balance you had once cherished with Azriel and the others. You hadn’t realised how their entry into your life would change so much. 

Maybe it was your fault for thinking it wouldn’t.

~~~

Azriel snarled softly. 

"Snarl all you want." Rhys leaned back in his chair. "But if I see you panting after her again, I'll make you regret it."  

Rhys had rarely threatened punishment or pulled rank. It stunned Azriel enough that it knocked him from his rage. 

Rhys jerked his chin toward the door. "Get out. And while you’re at it you owe y/n an apology for making her privy to your foolish actions tonight."  

Azriel faltered a second. You had seen him? He hadn’t even noticed, his shadows had always vanished when in the company of Elain and they hadn’t notified him of your presence. In fact they rarely ever did. You were the one person who his shadows had always seemed to favour.

Fuck.

You had witnessed his reckless behaviour. It was a jarring revelation. You were one of his longest standing friends. There was no doubt in his mind you would be just as livid as Rhys for his actions.

Azriel tucked in his wings and left without another word, stalking through the house, searching for you.

Finding you in the library, Azriel approached you with a gentle call of your name, his voice filled with remorse. Your back was to him, and he watched you shudder slightly at the vibrations of his voice.

“I’m sorry you were witness to my actions earlier, I’m sure you have-”

“Forget it.”

Azriel was taken aback by your brazenness, the tone in your voice was something he’d never been on the receiving end of before. You moved swiftly in front of him, your back still to him as you placed your book back on the shelf.

“Right.”

Azriel struggled to understand your motives. Were you pretending not to have seen anything to spare his embarrassment, or had Rhys instructed you to keep silent?

“Well I am truly sorry.” He spoke again.

“Why do you keep apologising to me?” your voice wavered for a moment.

“Because you’re my friend, and I’ve implicated you-”

“Friend. Right, of course.” You clung to that word bitterly, you couldn’t help yourself. You had spat it back so venomously. 

Azriel always knew you better than anyone, could tell when something was off and there was clearly something wrong. He stepped forward, touching your wrist to get you to turn at him.

And then he saw.

He saw the pained expression. Tear stained face and red puffy eyes. In all his years of knowing you, he had never seen this look– a look so broken.

Who had hurt you?

“Y/n, what’s wrong?”

You scoffed, pulling your wrist away from his grasp. Despite the hurt simmering within you, a newfound confidence surged through you. After mustering the courage to confess your feelings to Azriel, only to be met with rejection by his actions, you felt a liberating sense of release– you had nothing left to lose.

And quite frankly you just didn’t care anymore.

"It's you," you spat, your words dripping with bitterness as you locked eyes with Azriel, the pain evident in your glassy gaze. "It is you who has caused this."

Azriel's confusion was palpable, his brows furrowed as he struggled to comprehend how he could have hurt you so deeply. He felt his shadows coil around him protectively, but they remained silent, offering no explanation for his transgressions. Whether they didn’t know or they refused to tell him.

Your lips quivered slightly as you drew in a sharp breath, your fists clenching at your sides.. "It's my fault, really," you admitted, your voice tinged with self-blame. "For being so foolish, for ever thinking I–... That I would be good enough."

Azriel’s expression bore confusion, but seeing your pain was breaking something inside of him. He tried to reach for you again, wanting to soothe you but you stepped away from him.

Something started to gnaw on him then, deep in his chest.

"I know I could never compete with Mor, so I never even tried," you continued, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "I hoped maybe with time you’d realise that was never meant to be. Maybe eventually consider me instead…”

You had said it. Admitted your truth. Azriel’s eyes widened in shock. Your confession hung in the air, the weight of your words hitting Azriel like a punch to the gut. For a Spymaster, he had failed miserably at deciphering your true feelings. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could utter a word, you pressed on, your voice thick with unshed tears.

"And I noticed how you didn’t look at her the same way anymore," you choked out, struggling to maintain composure. "I thought maybe it was because we’d gotten closer. I was so foolish, I realise that now. It wasn’t because of me."

"Wait, Y/n," Azriel interjected, his voice laced with urgency as he stepped forward, his hands gripping your arms firmly.

Azriel's heart sank as your words pierced through him, revealing a truth he had been too blind to see. He had never known, never even considered, because in his eyes, you were one of the most precious people in his life – too precious for him to ever believe he was worthy of.

Your voice quivered with emotion, and Azriel's chest tightened with guilt as he realised the depth of your pain. "I know I'm not as lovely as Elain," you whispered, your words like a dagger to his heart.

"Don't say things like that," Azriel pleaded, his voice thick with emotion. "You are so incredible—"

But you cut him off, your words slicing through the air with a finality that left Azriel reeling. You refused to hear anything else from his lips. Those lips that had been so close to kissing Elain. 

He watched helplessly as you moved out of his grasp, your every movement causing that feeling in his chest to grow. You picked something up from the table behind you, turning to face Azriel once more. Somehow forcing a soft sad smile across your lips.

Azriel's throat tightened, his breath catching in his chest as he gazed at you. In that moment, you seemed more fragile than ever, your vulnerability laid bare before him. He had always considered you beautiful, too beautiful for him, too kind, too good. And now, as he stood face to face with the pain he had unknowingly caused you, his heart ached with regret.

"I've held onto these feelings for so long, hoping one day you might feel the same way," you confessed, your voice heavy. "But I think tonight was the Gods' way of telling me it’s time to let go."

Azriel's hands trembled as you pushed the gift box into his palms, "Happy Solstice.” You whispered with a bittersweetness that tore Azriel’s soul. Your words, they felt so final. They felt like a goodbye.

With a shaky breath, Azriel glanced down at the box, opening, his fingers began to trace the intricate design of the sheath adorned with gems that he instantly recognised as symbols of him and his family. But when he looked up again, ready to speak your name in a desperate plea, he found only emptiness.

Finally, his shadows spoke.

Gone.

Next Part >> (by popular demand I have continued this, mwah)

a/n: This little drabble came to me last night, I wanted to inflict a little hurt. You are very welcome <3 - Lottie x

Laborious Activities | Azriel x reader

Summary: Azriel and his mate are having a baby.

A/N: @daycourtofficial has infected me with something akin to baby fever with Eris and his gingersnaps and this was the result! (please note that I have never gone through labour so there’s a good chance this is incredibly unrealistic, but then again, we’re talking about faeries so who cares)

Word count: 2521

Warnings: fluff bordering on the corny

-

Her breathing was shallow and fast as Azriel brushed his palm over her hair, her skin shimmering with a thin coat of sweat, her hand trembling despite the thumb he soothed over the delicate skin of her wrist, feeling her pulse flutter beneath the pad of his finger.

"You're okay," he spoke, forcing his words into a soft tone, his features schooled into the perfectly collected, calm mask of someone who supposedly knew what he was doing. "I got you. You'll be fine."

"It doesn't feel fine," she said, and her voice shook, her eyes wide when she looked up at him—fearful.

She'd been cracking jokes only moments earlier, jokes that had worked their magic to calm him. But they'd gotten scarce the longer it went on and the worse it got.

"Madja will be here any moment now," Azriel assured both her and himself with gentle tones, watching the way her eyes flickered to the closed door.

He watched her for a moment, observed the unrest in her movements, the discomfort in her bones when she shifted. The tight grip of her hand found his arm then, her face contorting in pain, and Azriel swallowed thickly at the way she pressed her wobbling lips together, her eyes shut tightly as she rode a fresh wave of tearing agony.

"Breathe through it," Azriel spoke softly, and a cooling shadow moved to brush along her heated forehead. "Breathe with me."

Placing her flat, warm palm on his shirt-covered chest, he took a deep breath, holding it for two beats of his heart before exhaling through slightly parted lips. At the third breath she finally opened her eyes, shining wet now, and Azriel watched as she began to mirror his breathing with shaky exhales.

"That's perfect," he smiled, fingers brushing loose strands of hair from her damp forehead before he leaned down to press his lips to her skin. "You're doing amazing."

Where the fuck are you? he hurled at Rhys through his open mind shields.

Got held up, will be there in five.

"What is it?" she asked, her eyes still locked with his, a note of panic in her tone. "Is it Rhys? What did he say?"

Azriel cursed himself for having shown on his face even a flicker of the anxiety he felt coursing his veins.

"Everything is okay," he assured her. "They'll be here in a few minutes."

A sob tore through her throat at the next contraction, and Azriel clenched his teeth when her hand shot to her swollen belly. She was being torn apart and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"How bad is it now?" he asked quietly when it ended. "Can't be worse than the knife Cass took to the arm when you two were sparring last year. The way he was wailing, you'd think you chopped it right off."

The laugh that passed her lips sounded choked; her face contorted as she grimaced at him. "You're an ass."

The corners of his lips curled when some of the tension left her muscles at the abating pain, and she sank back a little deeper into the pillow.

Azriel brushed his fingers along her bare arm in a gentle caress. "Have you thought about what we should name her?"

"You don't even know if it's a girl." Her voice was quiet now. He knew she was already exhausted, worn out from the pain, and his chest tightened at the thought that it would get much worse for her before it got better.

"Well, no." Azriel hummed, tilting his head as he looked down at his love with a smile. "But I have a feeling."

She hummed, her own tired version of a smile now breathing light into her features. “A feeling, huh? Well in that case, who am I to question the spymaster?”

Azriel lifted her hand to his lips, his eyes closing as he kissed her knuckles.

It was only when the door opened that both their eyes snapped up to find Madja and Rhys entering the room, one with assuring calm radiating off her, the other with brows furrowed in worry.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" Madja asked as she set her bag on the floor by the bed.

Y/N gave a wobbly smile. "I've been better."

Sympathy coloured Madja's features, and she nodded as she began to soothe her palms over Y/N’s swollen, nightgown-clad belly.

"Ah, yes, an impatient one you've got there."

"Is everything okay?" Azriel asked, his eyes on Madja as though her words could determine the fate of everyone present. And in a way, he supposed they could. "The wings," Azriel hesitated, swallowing thickly and holding his love's hand in his like a lifeline, "they haven't...?"

"No. You'd know it if they had," Madja spoke gently, moving to dig through her bag.

It was risky, this birth. Dangerous. When he'd found out she was pregnant, when he’d sensed the change in her scent, it had almost driven him mad with worry. He remembered how it had been with Feyre, remembered her screams a little too well, maybe. And Y/N hadn't been here then. She hadn't been touched by whatever Nesta had done to give herself and Feyre the ability to bear Illyrian children.

But apparently, the Mother had smiled upon them, because things had gone ... smoothly. Against all odds, her body had adjusted. Her bones had shifted to widen her pelvis, and once she’d been far enough along to tell, Madja had deemed the baby's wings small enough to risk a natural birth.

They suspected an Illyrian, buried somewhere in the long line of her ancestors, leaving not enough of a genetic trace to bless her with the ability to fly, but enough to allow her to bear a child with tiny wings of its own.

Still, it wasn't by any means safe. They didn't know how her body would react when it came down to it. But at least she'd made it this far. An unknown ancestor had given her a fighting chance.

"Let's get to it then, shall we?" Madja smiled.

When Y/N's face twisted with yet another contraction forcing her body to writhe in agony, Rhys' worried voice rang through the room.

"I could take it away," he said. "The pain."

But Madja lifted a hand. "Pain tells us a great deal, Rhysand. It's nature's way to let us know when something's wrong."

Rhys sighed through his nose—Azriel could hear it from where he kept his eyes on her, on the tense curve of her neck, the heaving of her chest.

A quiet whimper broke past tightly clamped lips and Azriel felt it like a stab in the chest.

"I won't be far," Rhys said, moving backwards to the door as Y/N calmed enough to breathe freely again, and Madja began dragging the fabric of her nightgown over the legs she kept bent at the knees and propped up on the mattress. "Call me if you need anything."

As Rhys closed the door behind him, Madja smiled up at her from between her legs. "Everything looks good, when the next contraction comes, I want you do push as hard as you can, darling. Okay?"

A wave of nausea overcame Azriel at that.

Gods, this was it.

The moment they'd been both dreading and anticipating for months now. When he turned back to look at her, he spotted the same fear in her eyes that he felt boiling deep in his gut, and when he moved closer, he lifted their interlocked hands to breathe a kiss to the back of hers.

"You can do this, my love," he spoke softly over the rapid breaths tearing in and out of her lungs and the thumping heartbeat he could all but feel shaking the very air he breathed. "Just squeeze my hand as hard as you can."

When it started, he thought his heart might break from the sight of her, the sounds she made, the tears that began to roll down her cheeks somewhere around the thirty-minute-mark. Madja had her push four times during each contraction, and every time it was over, all the strength seemed to drain from her body when she fell back to the pillow, chest heaving, eyes wet.

Azriel was muttering quiet words of encouragement into her hair, running his cooling shadows along her heated skin, holding the crushing grip of her hand. But when she pushed and pushed without any sign of progress, he was slowly running out of things to say.

She was actively tearing her body apart, and she had been doing so for hours now. What could he possibly say to help her through it? What words were there that could ease her pain?

"She'll be here soon," he spoke quietly, his arm now wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders so she could lean on him for leverage. "You'll be able to hold her, and you'll see why I was so sure it would be a girl."

But she was crying, exhaustion rolling off her in waves, her head rolling against his shoulder.

"It doesn't work," she sobbed. "Why doesn't it work?"

Madja lifted her eyes, sympathy swimming within them. "It's the wings, dear. They make it harder. They have a bit of resistance and make the baby bigger in diameter. But you're getting there, I promise you are. You just have to push a couple more times."

“I can’t,” she cried, her voice thick, her words slurred and hopeless with exhaustion. “I can’t push anymore. Everything hurts. It hurts.”

"Y/N," Azriel spoke, palming her heated, damp cheek as he directed her gaze to his, a note of desperation in his tone. "You’re doing so good, my love. It’s almost over.”

She gave a choked sob. “It hurts, Az. I don’t—I can’t, I—”

“I know,” Azriel breathed, his voice cracking. “I know it does. But it’s just a couple more times." He swallowed. "A couple more times and you'll have our baby in your arms."

The tired nod she gave broke his heart, but she took hold of his hand, and when the next contraction came, her body tensed all over again and she pushed with all her might.

It took four more. Four times she held her breath and screwed her eyes shut. Four times her voice broke with the scream that tore through her throat. Four times Azriel held on for dear life as she clung to his hand. And when she finally collapsed with a heavy sigh leaving her lungs and every last drop of energy flowing from her muscles, a sharp cry pierced the air and a lump formed in Azriel's throat as he kept his eyes on his love, running his fingers through her damp hair.

He lifted her limp hand to his lips then, and closing his eyes, pressed his lips to her skin.

"You're incredible," he breathed against her.

It was then that Madja approached her side, and Azriel watched intently as she placed a little bundle in the arms of his mate

“Congratulations,” the healer said, smiling. “A healthy girl.”

"Oh Gods," Y/N snivelled, her thick voice all but a breath in the suddenly silent room. "Azriel, look at her. She's ... she's ..."

"Perfect," Azriel breathed, mesmerisation overcoming him as he stared at the squirming little form of his daughter, his shadows fluttering across the room in a display of barely contained joy.

“She is.” A happy sob broke free from her then. "Absolutely perfect."

Azriel’s arm tightened around his mate, his forehead sinking to her temple, his voice lowered to a whisper only she could hear. "You did so good, my love."

She smiled, her eyes always on the babe in her arms, though Azriel could feel the bond between them thrum with golden light, brighter than it had ever been before.

"What was it then?" she asked, her voice exhausted beyond imagination, yet void of the agony that had torn apart her words just moments earlier.

"What was what?"

"What made you so sure she'd be a girl?"

Azriel smiled, and as he looked down at the bundle in her arms, he observed the first shadowy tendril brushing along a perfectly round cheek. "Her shadows told me."

Surprise coloured Y/N’s features as she looked up at him, but when she followed his gaze back to the cheek of their daughter, a delighted sound fell from her lips. "She's a shadowsinger too!"

Azriel leaned his cheek to rest against her head. "I started to notice unfamiliar shadows a few days ago. Just whispers, barely big enough to see.”

His chest expanded with the knowledge that his daughter would grow up as he had—shadows by her side to protect her from harm, to be her friend when she needed one most, to carry her across the lands with nothing but the absence of light.

"Do you want to hold her?" Y/N suddenly asked, looking up at him with bright eyes that carried no trace of the pain she'd just forced her body to endure.

Azriel hesitated but finally nodded, the urge to hold his baby suddenly overwhelming, and when she shifted a bit to move the babe to his arm, his heart swelled large enough to surely burst free from his chest any moment now.

She was barely big enough to span the length of his forearm, her head fitting comfortably in the palm of his hand, and he didn't dare breathe as he held her close to his chest.

"I can't believe we made her," Y/N whispered, running the pad of her thumb along a soft cheek, her eyes brightening when their daughter squirmed at the touch.

When Y/N looked up at him, her gaze was so full of love it stole the breath right from Azriel’s lungs.

“We still have to name her.”

Azriel hummed, gazing at the impossibly tiny face of his daughter, and a twinge of joy shot through him as he realised that she had her mother’s eyes. He’d hoped she would. He loved those eyes. He’d lay down his life for those eyes.

“We could name her after your mother,” Y/N spoke quietly, and Azriel turned to looked at her.

He contemplated her words for a while, but finally…

“No,” he said softly, looking back at the girl in his arms. “No, she should have her own name. One without … history.”

He felt his love’s hand on his arm, her head leaning against his shoulder as she gazed down at the babe he held.

“What about Alenia?”

“Alenia,” Azriel said, testing the way the name rolled off his tongue. “Alenia, shadowsinger of the Night Court.”

He heard the grin in Y/N’s voice when she spoke. “Barely ten minutes old and she already carries a title.”

Azriel smiled and lifted a single finger to his daughter’s cheek, doing as Y/N had done earlier and delighting in the little squirms his caress drew from the babe.

“She shall be the greatest shadowsinger to ever walk the Night Court,” he breathed into the silence of the room. “I know it.”

butterfly kisses

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 1.7K (honestly it's just a little drabble)

Warnings: 18+, implied smut, lots of fluff, mating frenzy

Summary: Azriel just can't get enough of your wings <3

If you want to read more from this universe - wings

Azriel wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky.

He had thanked the Mother every day since the bond snapped, and even more when you accepted it. When Mor had introduced you into his life only a couple of years ago, he never imagined this would be the outcome.

Azriel vividly remembered the first night he met you. It was another gathering at Rita’s, one of the many that had unfolded, now peace settled over the land. 

Mor with playful determination had pulled you over to their table, arm looped around yours– almost in a way that said she wasn’t going to let you escape. He had noticed the faint blush that creeped up your face to your pointed ears, merely from the proximity of your High Lord and Lady, and their inner circle. He recalled how you offered a shy little curtsy in their presence, that had led to the whole table stifling their laughter. Rhys kindly explained that such formalities were not necessary, especially not in Rita’s of all places. Azriel did his best to contain his mirth at the display, all the while chewing the inside of his cheek to stop the chuckle leaving his lips. He truly couldn’t get over how adorable you were, he'd found himself captivated by your endearing innocence. 

And that was only the start.

Mor explained how she’d met you in town one day and had essentially thrusted her friendship onto you, and it really didn’t take long for Azriel and his family to do the same. 

You were so sweet and caring, and slotted into Azriel’s life so easily that he found it hard to remember a time when you weren’t there at all. Your kindness towards the Archeron sisters, guiding them through the intricate transitions of fae life that they still at times struggled with. Nyx was absolutely enamoured with you, oftentimes seeking your company over his actual family. But they didn’t blame him, because they all did same. Your calm sweet nature was addictive to them all, especially Azriel.

Driven by an insatiable curiosity, Azriel found himself seeking every opportunity to unravel all your layers. He wanted to know everything about you. From your favourite foods, to the books that captured your attention.

His infatuation all made sense when the bond snapped. 

It was the last solstice.

Azriel had noticed how beautiful you were looking, as you always were. But you were clad in a breathtaking pale pink summer dress, the neckline delicately showcasing your décolletage. As you moved with a natural grace, the fabric billowed ever so slightly at the waist, accentuating your silhouette in a manner that held attention.

Or at least held Azriel’s attention. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.

He watched you carefully navigate the chaos of the room. Nyx in one arm, giving Feyre some rest and reprieve in her pregnant state. Your other hand bringing in the cake Elain had spent all morning baking. Amidst the flurry of activity, you had been so close to dropping the cake. But Azriel's steady hand intervened just in time, grabbing the plate and taking it off you. Except in that moment your hands touched, grazed past one another in a way they had so many times before. 

But that time had been different.

It was Azriel’s turn to almost drop the cake. That all consuming warmth flooded his chest catching him off guard. A golden thread connecting itself to you. The mating bond. Finally.

And based on the bright red flush covering your cheeks, it was clear you’d felt it too. You’d fled the room then, overcome with emotion and what this new revelation meant. 

Though, it didn’t take long for Azriel to coax you round.

Ever the gentleman, he courted you. Taking you on the most thoughtful dates and spoiling you with bouquet after bouquet of flowers. He would leave little love notes and poetry for you to find. That it was really no surprise to anyone, when you decided to accept the bond.

That was only three weeks ago now.

Yourself and Azriel were deep in the mating frenzy. 

Rhys had kindly offered one of his private residences he had on the outskirts of Night. A smaller cottage, but with all the privacy you both needed. And Azriel had taken advantage of that privacy eliciting sounds from you that he would cherish forever and never tire hearing.

And then there were your wings. 

You had revealed them to him the first night after accepting the mating bond, and, Gods, was he done for.

Azriel had taken it upon himself, in the earlier months, to really vet you. His dedication to his role as Spymaster served as a guise for his self-indulgent exploration of you, delving into the intricate details of your being with a hunger that bordered on obsession. Not only had he discovered all the things you love, but he searched for details of who and what you were.

Finding himself holed up in the library at times, hours spent devoted to aquainiting himself to the type of fairy you were. 

He knew you had wings, was the type of fairy whose wings were the delicate kind. Most kept them concealed with magic. Yet, Azriel couldn't shake the thought that perhaps they were hidden not only for protection but also out of reverence for their breathtaking beauty. They were mesmerising. Enough to trap Azriel into some kind of trance. 

And perhaps possessively so, he was grateful not many males were privy to this part of you.

He was watching you now, laying on your front. Bare. Just how he’d left you when he took a moment to freshen up. You were giggling, your legs up and feet fluttering behind you while propped up over something.

“What are you doing, my love?” Azriel purred inquisitively, stepping closer towards the bed.

“Oh…Feyre was just checking in. Asking how much longer we might be,” he could hear you smile when you spoke, and watched as with the brush of your hand the magical parchment and ink disappeared that you’d been conversing with Feyre on.

“It’s not even been that long,”

“We’ve been gone three weeks–”

“And we’ll be gone 300 hundred more,”

You chuckled at his response, “Az, we do need to go back at some point. They need us.”

“I need you more.” There was no negotiating. Your family would be lucky to see you both before the next solstice at this rate.

Not that Azriel needed the frenzy to be satiated by you, but it truly was driving him. The primal need for you, overwhelming. The pair of you only stopped when you both fell into a slumber from exhaustion. And even then, there were many times you found each other in a sleep exhausted haze, tangled within and inside one another again.

The bed dipped either side of your legs, you were still on your front but could feel your mate over you. He had paused though, his eyes falling over your beautiful pink wings. The iridescent skin reflecting lights across the room. He had almost cried when he first saw them after you accepted the bond, mesmerised and overwhelmed by their beauty.

Getting to see this part of you, a part of you that was so private, stirred a gratefulness inside him. But there was something else too, a possessiveness that had slowly been creeping up his mind recently.

In the past three weeks, you had both done every possible maneuver, tried every kind of love making– fucking, screwing, mating. You’d even made him a crumbling wet mess just from playing with his wings. 

But he hadn’t touched yours.

No, they looked so delicate and soft, too beautiful to touch, that he hadn’t dared. 

You felt him situate himself behind you, his warm naked body lightly laying on you, his chest resting on your behind. His arms wormed their way under your hips to get comfy, and you splayed your wings flat against your back to fit him.

“Az?” you asked curiously, glancing slightly over at your shoulder to catch him in your peripheral.

He didn’t respond though, not with words. You felt his soft warm breath blowing on the membrane of your right wing, making your squirm under the touch. Your wing fluttering a little in the air.

“How sensitive are they? Too sensitive for me to touch?” You heard him behind you.

“Hm..” you tilted your head slightly to think, “They’re delicate, but you can touch them. Gently.”

You were waiting for him to wriggle his hand from out beneath you but instead you felt something warm and wet run against the bottom of your wing.

You couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping your lips at the soft touch. Azriel had taken it upon himself to use the tip of his tongue to explore this part of you, a part of you that was still very new to him. He felt you wriggle under him, and he shifted placing his full body weight on you so you couldn’t move.

His tongue traced the ridge of your wing, and he wasn’t letting up. Not when he’d made that sound from you. He wanted more of that. He moved and pressed his tongue flat against the delicate skin, evoking another moan from you.

“Does that feel good my little butterfly?” he purred, you could feel the smirk on his lips against your wing as he pressed a kiss on them.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his teasing, but it felt too good to do anything other than surrender to his touch.

“I want to hear your words,” he spoke a little more assertively this time, before swiping  his tongue along one of the tubular lines that spread like veins across your wings.

“Yes..” You huffed, before another moan slipped past your lips breathlessly. “It feels good Az…” You felt your body heat, your cheeks for sure rosy, grateful your mate could only hear not see the reaction he was having on you. 

He chuckled softly then, the vibrations from his lips skirting across your wings making them twitch.

“My sensitive little butterfly, ” the new nickname only made you squirm more, your core growing slick at his predatory attention.

Azriel moved his hand then, the one caught under your left hip, so effortlessly moving down to your core, cupping your wet slit as he licked the pink shiny membrane again. 

“Azriel…” you gasped, but his touch didn’t relent.

You knew this was only the start.

a/n: just some lovely little fluffy mating frenzyness! I just love these two, so I may expand a little more on the wings universe and their relationship if you guys would like to see that! Maybe some domestic bliss, or if there's any scenes you'd like me to write for them or parts of their story you're interested in then I'm happy to explore. Also this was written fairly quickly, so please ignore any typos, I only did a quick little check hehe - Lottie

p.s. also thanks to @thisiskaylin who inspired the nickname! She commented on the wings fic that butterfly would be the perfect nickname and I just had to use it <3

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