#Spymaster

[thelov3lybookworm]

No Big Deal

Azriel x Reader

Summary: new chores, but surely it won't be too bad.

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Word Count: 1082 (more than i expected honestly)

Warnings: none <3

A/n: kinda like a part 2 of my maid!reader fic, but its a oneshot so can be read by itself! not proofread cus i wrote it in like an hour lols, so not my best work but ive got no inspiration recently and yet im doing my best to get fics out every week🤷🏻‍♀️

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

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It’s no big deal, Y/n told herself for the thousandth time that day.

It was just a room, and she was to clean it. Quick, simple, easy. The fact that she had never cleaned any living quarters before and only been assigned to deserted hallways and storage rooms before was not a big deal. She would just go in, sweep and clean up, and then get out.

Quick, simple, easy.

And yet, the pit in her stomach pulsed in time with her heartbeat in her ear like the maw of some sort of unnatural, unrelenting beast.

The amount of servants in the palace was more than was countable, and so it had been fairly easy to escape doing her duties under the scrutinising gaze of the elite upper fae, sneering at the iridescent wings she hid away most times. But being a -as the higher fae call it- half-breed, came with its own problems.

Most times, she could hide them away without problem. But when, after days of hard labour, the butterfly-like wings would sprout from her back unbidden at the slightest shift of attention.

But other than that, it was all fine. Simple. Easy.

Y/n's days consisted of waking up with -sometimes before- the sun, hurrying to clean up, and hoping there were still leftover delicacies from the previous night that she could sneak out after she had shovelled down thick porridge that made her gag every time. It was not that it was bad, per say, but… it was not the best either.

But that was neither here nor there. Because now she stood in front of an ornately carved wooden door, on the other side of which was the quarters assigned to her for cleaning.

The hallway was mostly deserted, the only other soul the male servant at the other end of it, sweeping the pristine white floors. Located quite near the princeling’s chambers, it led Y/n to assume the room belonged to one of his close confidants.

No big deal, Y/n reminded herself, and then lifted her hand to knock on the door.

Long moments passed without response, and heart throbbing in her throat, Y/n pushed the heavy door open, eyes scanning the silent interior.

"Good day…I’m here to clean…"

The words sounded like a question to herself, the uncertainty apparent. And when, after long moments where no sound returned, Y/n realised that the walls were her only companion.

Small blessings, she mused as she set down the bucket of soapy water in her hand and straightened her skirts. She leaned the broom against the wall nearest and set to righting the bedsheets. They were barely rumpled, as though the occupant of the room had only laid on top of the covers and then left before their weight could make a dent in the bedding.

Just as she was fluffing up the pillows, the faded scent of… cedar? And something that reminded her of the court she lived in floated up to her nose, filling up her lungs with a sort of nostalgia that rendered her speechless, her mind trying to connect the scent to the event that lingered in the back of her mind.

Where had she encountered that scent?

Y/n straightened, her brows furrowed, and turned towards the low coffee table and began picking up the few dishes that littered the table, a bejewelled knife and some spoons and forks and putting it all on the tray to be taken down to the kitchens. She grabbed a rag and kneeled next to the table, still trying to figure out if she had seen the resident of the room before when it hit her.

The Illyrian. He had seemed like the young prince’s friends, and it would make sense that he lived close to him.

It had been maybe over a month since that encounter. She had forgotten about the peculiar meeting almost the day after. But it seemed a little… suspicious, how after over a year of working, his quarters were the first ones she was to clean.

Had he asked for her?

Nonetheless, Y/n finished wiping the table and stood, huffing.

"Is there any way I can help?"

Y/n jumped, whipping around to stare at the soft-spoken Illyrian wide eyed. He, in turn, winced, like he hadn’t accounted for his sudden appearance being frightening for Y/n.

"No- no, my lord. I’ll leave if you wish-"

His lips twisted down on the corners. "The name’s Azriel."

She frowned. "Sorry…?"

He shook his head. "Stay, finish your work. I’ll just be here."

She looked around, contemplating as he walked towards the armchair in the corner. "I’m almost done."

He nodded, his eyes focused on her every movement. "How long have you been working? Like, in the palace?"

Y/n walked over to the bucket where she had discarded the used utensils and threw the rag on top of it, then picked up the broom. "For almost a year now."

"I’ve never seen you before." Surprise coloured his soft voice, making her raise a brow.

"And suddenly, by some miracle, you see me twice this week." Her eyes flicked up, watching for any signs to give away his guilt, and she was rewarded by the blood rushing to darken the skin of his neck and ears.

"Miracle, indeed." he mumbled, his eyes glued to the carpet.

Her heart began racing, and she quickly ducked her head, hurrying to finish up soon.

Knowing he asked for her, knowing he remembered her, after running into each other only once, did something to her

Maybe he will murder me in my sleep.

She set the broom aside, then turned to look at him. His eyes were downcast, moving across the pages of the report he held in his hand, but she knew his attention was on her.

After all, she didn’t know anyone who had the ability to read things upside down.

"I’ll take my leave now." she mumbled.

His eyes flicked up, and he pushed to his feet, discarding the papers in his hand and nodding. "Thank you."

Y/n ran her eyes over him once, without meaning to. His leathers were pristine, his boots shone. Each holster contained weapons, and she was sure he had many hidden, too. One of the holsters remained empty. Maybe he didn’t notice.

Finally, after a long moment of staring, she bowed her head, then turned, picking up the bucket.

"Have a good day."

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[lilyfrogisnotneurotypical]

never have I agreed entirely with something this long and detailed (there's usually some detail or another that I disagree with), but this explanation is incredible, 10/10

so, I got asked what's the spymaster timeline argument and why do I argue about it so much and keep defending spymaster lol so I wrote a long ass thing that I want to share with you.

SO. there are different arguments for people I argue with

1. having the master back as evil ruins Missy's arc and they hate him

2. having the master back as evil doesn't make sense after missy but would make sense before missy

3. They just fucking hate him god knows why.

4. A mix of these

Now. I have strong opinions, and those strong opinions are that I don't have a problem with dhawan master at all. I think he simply fits in after missy in the most normal way possible. I never saw a problem with it and I find it confusing that people do. Cause?? Imagine dying, then regenerating and realising the doctor has left you alone, but fair, cause he didn't know. So you go on gallifrey, hoping he shows up. While you're there you start hacking into the matrix for fun, cause you're the master and you like having a bit of fun. You discover horrible things. The doctor is not who they think they are, the time lords are not what you thought they were and all of your species including yourself is a product of the doctor's DNA.

This places the doctor as some kind of god. The origin of the time lords. They weren't time lords before the doctor, just gallifreyans, with no real power or anything to make them important. He's simultaneously angry at the time lords for lying about their identity, and at the doctor for being the most important time lord of them all, for being THE time lord, the original. Ultimately, for being more than him.

Now. The master has a certainty during the entirety of the show. The doctor is his equal, they have opposite moralities, but they're equals. Now, the security in this statement he believed in all his life shatters. They're not equals. He is who he is only because of the doctor. Thinking back to missy, she was the regeneration that absolutely wanted the doctor to see her as equal as well. She wanted to be like the doctor cause she missed him, and felt like he was the only one like her. So she tried to be like him, she accepted to be imprisoned in a vault and basically be changed to have the same beliefs of the doctor. But she did it willingly. Cause she wanted them to be the same. Now this entire arc feels wrong to the master (dhawan) , cause now he knows he could never be like the doctor, how could he? The doctor is much more. He thinks missy was his biggest mistake, he humiliated himself to be something he could never be. He gets out of the matrix and throws a tantrum, killing everyone on the planet for having lied to him (and to the doctor). When he sees the doctor again he hates her. He hates her cause she's just there, being her usual self, while in reality she has a bigger role in everything than she could ever think. He hates her cause a part of her is in him, and that means he's less. He's lesser than her. I also remember one scene where he was like "did I ever apologise for that?" (basically killing the doctor making them fall on the ground and regenerate, lmao) And she was like "no" and him "good". I think about it often in relation to missy, cause he was definitely saying it because of her. Why any other master should have apologised for something? Only missy was apologising for stuff she did. It might be a big reach but I like to think it's about her. And he's like "good" cause he regrets being missy and trying to redeem himself, like I said before. Anyway the follow up from here is simple, he hates her and stuff, but he also feels bad not letting her know why. So then he decides to show her her story, all he can. No one should live without knowing their origins. so he shows her, and then he says he would like to show her more, but there's nothing else to show. It's the only moment in which he's doing something kind for her. Cause I believe in some way, he's also mad at the time lords for lying to the doctor. And here's part of why he decides to use their dead bodies in such an unworthy way. They have to pay not only with their life but also with their dignity, so he turns them into cybermasters.

This is also a way to cope and create his own race, to feel a little more on the doctor's level. She created the time lords, he destroyed them and created another species with their bodies. Then it's not enough and he decides that the only way to be equals is to become her. At this point he's gone completely insane, like, we see that. But it's totally understandable for him to act that way. His whole worldview changes. Everything he believed in is not true anymore. He doesn't know who he is anymore (I also just thought about this identity crisis he was having and how he stole Rasputin's identity, but this is an analysis for another day).

Anyway this got off topic cause I had to explain only the missy/dhawan thing but then started talking about dhawan in general so forgive me lol.

Other than this, if we take big finish in consideration there's the lumiat, that comes between missy and dhawan and her story really helps some people accepting the change (for some people it's still not enough though) and in the 2021 annual is confirmed that dhawan comes after missy, as we have the doctor and the master talking about the master's story from delegado to dhawan and thirteen says "I quite liked you as missy" and he replies that she spent too much time with him and it's something that should never happen again.

anyway. I've made my point on why the missy -> spymaster regeneration simply makes sense. It's just a normal timeline, I don't know why people think it doesn't work.

update to this post; in the audio "self-help", the master mentions stabbing himself in the back just when he thought he finally knew who he was. Referring to simm master stabbing missy, of course. giving us another confirmation of his position after missy in the timeline.

[thetorturedlovergirl]

[dang-dood]

everyone meet my baby girl, the master

[chipamipasion]

CAN WE PLEASE TALK ABOUT SPY!MASTER PUPPY EYES???

He's always fucking around and then he serves puppy eyes AND THAT'S INSANE

[spoopdeedoop]

me too

[azrielwingspan]

A TACTICAL PLOY (AZRIEL X READER)

Summary : You knew Azriel had been pining after you for a very long time but you NEEDED him to make a move. So in order to give him a little push, you made use of a very tactical weapon : Jealousy.

Warnings: None

Blue eyes. Green eyes. Brown eyes. Eyes trailing you across the room, whispering across your skin , feeding your ego. Yet your eyes sought out the hazel ones.

Shades of gold, green and brown that set a trail of fire across your skin. Eyes that made you feel. Eyes that made you want. The gold pierced through your skin, peering into your heart and soul. The green trailed across your flesh, making you yearn for things that plagued your dreams. The brown spoke of a future if you only dared to take that first step.

Ah, that was the obstacle. The first step.

You had one simple rule when it came to males.

You never chase.

So as you walked through the room, your blasé attitude making you all the more enticing, your heart betrayed you ignoring the rules your mind had set. It searched for him, desperate for the hit of ecstasy he would induce.

Once it found him, the decadent hit of euphoria rushed through your veins, leaving behind a crack in your mask. It was intentional. Every emotion, every 'slip' of the tongue, every word, every glance. He was the spymaster after all.

He glanced your way and tipped his chin in greeting.

You raised your glass, taking a sip and watched his eyes trail over you.

Longing, desiring and denying.

That was all he ever did. Denied himself of you.

You would be lying if you said you understood why he did what he did. You would be lying if you said it didn't make you doubt yourself. However, you knew for a fact he wanted you as much as you wanted him.

You would've been dense to not notice the heat in his eyes, the glances filled with unfulfilled promises, the softness behind his words and the kindness in his actions. It drove you mad some days. Drove you to the brink of breaking your rule.

You never chase.

You yearned to be wanted. You yearned to be fought for. You yearned to be loved, cherished and indulged in. So you had waited... and waited...and waited. A small part of you believed you were foolish enough to keep waiting for however long it took. Yet as a female, you had your wants and needs. There was only so much patience you could exhibit and you were currently running out of it.

Therefore, you decided to give him a little...push.

Tactic I : The art of heedlessness

You shook hands, kissed cheeks, hugged bodies , all the while never looking his way. Of course, you were aware of his presence acutely. It made it all the more fun. At one point, you had walked right past him talking animatedly with one of the guests. His scent had overtaken your senses and you had to physically stop yourself from responding to it.

His eyes, trailing you, lighting your skin on fire , the tension gasoline.

Watch me. Come to me. Talk to me.

Your eyes were fixed on your companions, their words a cacophony compared to the conversations the both of you had shared. The wine was making you bolder, impatient and lulling you into thoughts you kept at bay.

Tactic II : The art of flirtation

A subtle tuck of a strand of hair behind your ear, a soft tilt of your lips, a soft huff of laughter, an inch closer. You looked away from the male in front of you to glance down at your wine. Empty.

How many more glasses would you have to guzzle down before the spymaster grew some balls?

You pulled your hair to one side, the heat starting to stick to your neck. Looking up once again, you noticed that the males gaze in front of you was transfixed to the slope of your neck. Wonderful. Time to leave.

"Well, I should go." Turning around before he could respond, you walked away in the search of more wine.

Tactic III : The art of impelling

You didn't meet his gaze as a group of you stood near the balcony overlooking the Sidra. The flow of the water reached your ears, the sound a welcome distraction. Closing your eyes momentarily, you let the memory of the coolness of the water wash over you.

"I'll be heading home now." you spoke into the night, your companions voicing out their interjections. A small smirk and shake of the head later, you walked towards the exit not bothering to say goodbye to the male with no balls.

A few kisses on the cheek, soft smiles and polite goodbyes on the way to the exit.

"I'll drop you home." the voice swept over your skin like a shadow trailing its fingers across your skin.

"I'll be alright." you said, head turned over your shoulder.

There he was, finally...

"I insist." No arguments. That was final.

"If you insist." you say, wrapping your scarf around yourself.

Silence was the third being accompanying the both of you. You let it play its part, choosing not to say anything. It was entertaining, watching him struggle to say something...anything. He was doing a good job at hiding his emotions but he could never truly hide them from you.

After watching him suffer for a few more minutes , you say "If you're done struggling, we could teach you a thing or two on how to talk to females."

His face turned red, as his shadows skittered around.

Your house had come into view, the star lit night casting soft shadows around the both of you.

"Well.." you turned to him and said watching him under the moonlight.

"Well..." he replied watching you through his shadows.

A pang of disappointment rushed through you as you took a step back from him. "Good night then."

"Good night." he said, his voice dropping.

Giving him a final nod, you turned around not wanting him to see the look of disappointment on your face. You would never be desperate...no matter who it was.

Legs feeling like lead, you forced yourself to take that first step towards your house mustering all the will power within you. Just as you had lifted your leg off of the ground, a shadow wrapped around your wrist and tugged you backwards. A yelp made its way out of you as warm hands caught you, goosebumps making their way across your skin.

For a moment only two sets of heavy breaths could be heard. Maybe he could hear your heart thudding out of your chest. You lost track of what happened in the next few seconds as the shadowsinger pulled you into a ravishing kiss, igniting your body and jumbling your thoughts.

Lips coaxed your open, tongue sliding in to give you a taste of whisky and something darker and heady. Hands travelled down your sides, stopping at your hips only to give them a gentle squeeze. Your hands were on a path of their own, travelling into his hair and giving it a gentle tug.

All your senses were attenuated to the male in front of you. You were lost in another universe, a universe of want and need.

Suddenly, he pulls back to look down at you, his eyes wild and predatory. "I couldn't put into words what I felt..."

You brushed your lips against his, eyes fluttering shut. "Then show me...."

You could feel his lips split into a devilish grin before the both of you were engulfed by shadows.

[codegreen14]

Is this anything?

[how-masterful]

ITS FUCKING HAPPENING LETS GO MASTER STANNIES

[acatalepsy-and-tea]

I love the implications of 13 and "O" texting for multiple years because they are kind of upsetting: The Doctor having a friend across regeneration, and then he turns out to be someone else, someone they (should) hate. Sure, sucks that they were fooled, but what I think is worse is that they lost a friend she can't really mourn, because that friend wasn't real and (from her pov) even if he was, it would be inappropriate to be sad about him being gone. The Master being able to talk to the Doctor in a normal, easy, not-tainted way for a prolonged time the first time in centuries, maybe even millenia. But it's not real. Because the Doctor doesn't know it's them. She isn't talking to him, really. Which is totally okay because this is just another scheme, and it totally doesn't cause him complicated emotions that he refuses to acknowledge

[smuckygoobs]

how i'm coping (i'm not)

[thelov3lybookworm]

Want You

Summary: It is unfathomable that he might want her, but it seems like there's nothing more he wants than her

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Word Count: 5010 (woahhh 😦😦😦)

Warnings: tiniest bit of angst? idk i dont think theres any ngst but there is a bit of fluff hehe, and a bit too much childhood memories but eh we love it, right?

A/n: teehee i love this 🤭🥹 based on this request 😋

ANYWAYS, ENJOYYYY!!!🥳🥳🥳

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For as long as Y/n could remember, she had been fascinated with the shadowsinger.

Grabbing at his small shadows with her chubby hands, watching him sit in a corner as Rhys and Cassian bickered over which seat they wanted at the table, peering curiously as he made snowballs after snowballs to hit her older brother.

She had been fascinated, and it was very clear from day one.

Or atleast, she thought it was.

Even thinking about her actions made her cringe at how puppy-like she had been in following the spymaster around. Like the time she had forced him to tell her what the shadows spoke of late one night.

Y/n was a fairly small kid. Even compared to other five year olds, she was inches shorter than other kids. Being almost five years younger than her older brother, she barely reached his shoulders. He was also too tall for his age, being half high fae came with such advantages.

Y/n had knocked on Azriel’s bedroom door after he had retired early, claiming he had a headache from Rhys and Cassian’s foolish antics, but Y/n figured he was lying, since he did not ask mama for medicine. After all, he should have asked for at least a massage if he was in pain, no?

He had opened the door, scowling, but when he found no one outside, he glanced down in surprise at the little girl who grinned at him.

"Y/n?"

She had pushed her way in through the small space between his legs and the doorframe, dragging her big stuffed bear- Mister Bear- in behind her.

"What are you doing?" She questioned, raising onto her tippy toes and peering at the books discarded on his table.

Azriel followed her halfway before turning and getting onto his bed. "I was trying to sleep."

Y/n’s brows furrowed. "Why?"

"Because I have a headache."

"But you didn’t ask mama for medicine."

His brows furrowed. "I don’t need medicine."

"Why not?"

He sighed. "Because I am a big boy, and I am strong."

Y/n pouted. "But you should ask mama for medicine, it is good for you."

He shook his head. "I don’t want that."

Y/n huffed at his silliness, but then tugged her stuffed bear upright and clutched it to her chest as she moved closer to the bed. It was hard trying to get on without help, so she pushed mister Bear onto the mattress, then splayed her hands wide onto the surface and lifted one leg. Bent at the knees, she put it as high as it would go before trying to pull herself up onto the bed.

"What are you doing?"

Y/n didn’t respond, simply wiggling her way on the bed, breathing heavily. But she had a mission, and she was focused on that. She didn’t have time for breathlessness. She grabbed mister Bear and dragged him over to Azriel, placing him next to the confused boy.

"Whenever I’m sick, mama says to cuddle. And because I will be sleeping with mama, you can have mister Bear instead."

Azriel’s brows furrowed. "I’m not sick."

Y/n rolled her eyes and flopped down on the bed, mister Bear between the two, as if he were their baby. "Whatever." She looked up at the ceiling, then glanced back at Azriel, an excited smile on her face. "Your shadows can talk right?"

Confusion still marred his face, a hint of curiosity in his eyes as he nodded.

"Then they can tell you stories too, right?" He remained silent, seemingly contemplating. But Y/n continued, almost complaining, ignoring his lack of speech. "I keep asking mama to tell me stories, but she says she doesn’t know more. She says she has told me all the stories she knew, and now she doesn’t have any more."

"Why are you telling me this?"

Y/n giggled. "So your shadows can tell me stories, silly."

Azriel sighed. "They can’t tell stories to you."

She pouted. "Why not? Do they not like me?"

"No, they like you. But they can’t speak, like you and I."

"Then how do you understand them if they don’t speak?"

He paused. "They can talk to me, but they don’t speak loudly. Think of it as Rhys talking to you without speaking, with his mind."

Y/n huffed dramatically. "At least do they tell you stories before sleeping?"

He shook his head quietly, and Y/n pushed to her feet, wobbling on the soft mattress that had taken Azriel over months to get accustomed to. Y/n didn’t understand why Azriel kept sleeping on the floor despite having such a good bed. After all, why would he want to sleep on the cold floor when he had a bed?

"I am going to mama then. Don’t bother mister bear too much, okay?" He nodded, and watched Y/n get off the mattress with great difficulty before skipping over to the door and leaving. "Night, Azzie!"

Or the time she had chosen to play with Azriel, making Rhysand sulk for over a week.

"She is my sister!"

Azriel sat quietly on the ground and watched amidst Y/n’s dolls and kitchen toys, a pink kettle and small cups littering the space around his legs.

"Rhys, that is unfair. You didn’t want to play with Y/n before, so you can’t get mad now." Their mother tried to step in, her voice gentle. Despite that, Y/n glared defiantly at her older brother, chin lifted in a way she had so often seen her father stare down at his people.

"But she is my sister! I want to play now, come Y/n."

She stuck a tongue out. "I don’t want to play with you. You are mean."

"No I’m not!"

"You pull my hair."

"I don’t!" He very nearly whined, looking up at their mother with pleading eyes. She simply shrugged, because he did, in fact, pull Y/n’s hair sometimes.

When he got no help from his mother, he abruptly stepped forward and grabbed Y/n’s small hand, tugging her away from Azriel. "You can’t play with him, you are my baby sister."

Instantly, tears began pooling in Y/n’s eyes, and she jerked back, trying not to skid across the ground. "I don’t like you Rhysie! Go away!"

Rhys persisted, fury and jealousy that his sister chose his friend over him flashing over his face.

Mama had to step in, then.

"Rhys, let go right this moment!" Her stern voice echoed in the room, and even Azriel pushed to his feet, watching the scene unfold warily.

Rhys’s eyes clouded with angry tears as he glared up at mama, then Y/n, and dropped her hand. Almost pushed it away from him, and then turned and stomped out. Y/n watched him go, scowling at his back until he was out of sight, and then she wiped her tears and turned back to Azriel, smiling. Mama watched Rhys too, and then she turned to Azriel and offered him a gentle tilt of her lips, patted his head, reassured him that Rhys would come around, and then left them to play.

Later, Y/n would feel bad about refusing to play with her brother when at dinner he chose to sit on the chair farthest from Y/n. When he glared and hissed at Azriel to sit in Rhys’s place next to Y/n. He used to throw tantrums if anyone else sat next to her, because he had claimed that particular chair as his, but now he refused to even look at her as he angrily scarfed down his rice.

Y/n had turned to look at her mama in concern, who only told her to give him time. She had tried to, but after an hour, she had gotten bored and wandered into Rhys’s room, ready to play before bed.

Which was a wrong decision, as Rhys mocked and taunted her, then told her to go play with Azriel instead.

Even the next day, when Y/n got dressed in her thickest jacket to go play in the snow with her brother as their weekly tradition, she found him playing with other kids instead. He ignored her most of the time, even when she accepted that he wasn’t going to play with her and settled down on the porch, hands under her chin, watching sadly as he laughed and giggled with other kids.

Eventually, as the week had come to an end, he had gone back to his own seat. Y/n had to apologise, had even begged mama to let her bake Rhys’s favourite cookies with her as a peace offering, for Rhys to give her a smile.

Mama had to sit all the boys down from then on and make them agree to play together with Y/n, and that Rhys being her brother did not mean she could not play with others. It had taken a lot to get Rhys to agree, and when he nodded, he had still grumbled and glared.

She had been lost in thought the entire day, mainly after she had walked into the kitchen and found Azriel staring at her like he had been caught stealing cookies. He had left quickly after that, mumbling something about meetings and Rhys. Memories aside, as Y/n lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling almost three centuries later now, she couldn’t figure out why she felt so drawn to Azriel.

Sure, she had been a kid, and most kids liked other kids. But even as she grew up, that sense of friendship and companionship she felt with Azriel grew, morphing into something deeper, something more.

Sure, it could be infatuation, but this felt like it was so much more than that, something purer, something more emotional.

It was as if every time she saw him, her bones shifted, her ribs expanded, wishing to be closer to him. It was like his very soul kept tugging at her.

She had an inkling of what this was, but it was just that. An inkling.

Because she had not felt that crack, that snap, that mama had used to describe her own mating bond. She had said it felt like a sudden appearance of a new limb she didn’t know existed, the sudden breath of air after spending years asphyxiated.

No, Y/n had not yet felt any feeling like that, and it left her confused and saddened everyday. If anything, all she felt when seeing Azriel resembled the feeling of soft, warm sunlight on her skin, the slow warming of her freezing limbs after sitting in front of a bonfire.

What she felt was not quick, a sudden realisation. It was a soft, gentle awakening over the years.

And she could not wait to feel everything the stories had described.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

The past few weeks had been… not fun, to put it in a nice way.

Y/n could not find Azriel anywhere. Everywhere she went, all she encountered was his fading, lingering scent. Not him though. It was as if he was actively trying to avoid her.

In the mornings, she’d go to the training ring, and he’d be absent. The library, his study, the whole house of wind.

He was gone.

Even Rhysand didn’t know where he was. And if he wasn’t on any mission, where was he?

Mor didn’t know, neither did Amren. Cassian was Y/n’s last option.

She found him in the kitchen, chopping a small loaf of bread into thick slices. He only glanced up when Y/n scuffed her boot against the ground.

"Hey, Y/n, what’s up?"

She sighed, walking closer and leaning against the kitchen counter. "Do you know where Az is?"

Instantly, his shoulders bunched up. The movement was almost imperceptible, but Y/n clocked it.

"No, I haven’t. I’ve been looking for him myself." He mumbled, and Y/n knew he was being sincere. But the slight hesitation in his eyes, the small pause before he spoke, told Y/n that he knew something, if not his location.

"Is there a reason you think he’s gone off somewhere?"

He didn’t meet her eyes. "Uh- no."

"Cassian."

"Y/n."

"It’s a bad thing to lie."

"I’m not-"

"Mama used to say you were the nicest of us all."

He paused, glancing up at her skeptically. "Lying is bad."

Her lips quirked up. "Oh, so you know."

He rolled his eyes. "Sod off."

A silence that surrounded the two sobered Y/n up.

"Cass, I need to know what happened." A beat. "Please."

He looked away. "He made me swear not to tell."

"Is he mad at me? Is that why he’s left without telling anyone?"

He shook his head. "The complete opposite, if I’m being honest. He’s not mad at you."

"Then what is it, Cass?"

He sighed. "Y/n… I know I shouldn’t tell you, but…"

"But?"

"But I know Az would likely never say, and just wallow in his own head. I’m just telling you for his and your good, right?" Y/n could see the war waging in her friend’s head, and she felt bad for forcing him, but Y/n couldn’t stand going in circles.

"Yes, Cassian, now will you tell me?" It took a lot of effort to hide her frustration, but she somehow did it, watching him expectantly.

"He said you’re mates-"

Her ears began ringing the longer she stood there, eyes seeing but not watching as Cassian stopped speaking.

Her mind went back to a few days ago, the day since Azriel began avoiding her.

He felt it then. That morning.

Oh.

No wonder he left.

"So he found out?" Y/n breathed, more to herself than him, eyes unfocused.

"You- you knew?!"

"I had an inkling." She admitted.

Cassian nodded quietly, then pointed the knife in his hand at Y/n. "You better not throw me to the wolves if you decide to confront him."

Y/n offered him a weak smile in response. "No promises." She paused, searching for a good enough excuse to leave. "Thank you, Cassian. I would have lost my mind had you not told me."

He shrugged, turning away to grab an apple. "I’m nice like that."

He was, because he acted like he didn’t notice the way Y/n kept shifting on her feet, glancing at the door, wishing she could leave. He simply turned away, as if he was dismissing her and not her wanting to get out of there.

She gladly took the opening and hurried out, making her way up the stairs and back into her bedroom. Closing the door with a quiet thud, she walked over to the bed and settled on the edge, clutching the soft fabric of the covers under her palms.

In the quiet safety of her bedroom, she let herself wallow a bit.

Did he not want the bond?

I mean, who’d fault him.

He probably wanted someone nice, someone soft. And Y/n was none of that. She was all hard edges, kicking taunts and screaming boldness.

She was loud. She was a smartass and she was shameless when it came to being selfish. While Azriel… he liked to help people, his past making him want to do more good in order to make himself feel worthy.

She knew what people saw when they looked at her, and it was not pretty. At least, to her it was not.

She didn’t want to be the way she was. She wished she was sweet, wished she offered soft smiles instead of snarls and smirks. Knew that Azriel, if given the choice, would pick anyone else over her.

The bond clicking for him and eliciting such a response was to be expected. After all, why would he want her? Not to mention, if he did want to see where this path led him, her brother would go feral.

She sighed, leaning back on her hands and staring up at the ceiling.

But did all of that give him a right to try and keep her in the dark?

Sure, it had barely been a month, and maybe he was going to tell her about the bond, maybe he just needed time to settle his thoughts and come to terms with having her as his mate, having lost his chance to have someone he truly wanted as his mate. But she deserved to know, did she not?

He should have come to her first. Instead of going away for weeks on end, he could have come to her, told her to her face that he didn’t want the bond. She would have appreciated that more than… than whatever this was.

But now no one can change the past, or predict the sequence of events to come. It would be of no use to sit and wish for things. The only option Y/n let herself come onto was waiting for him to come home, and then confront him.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

It took two more days for Y/n to catch a stronger whiff of his scent in the house of wind.

Not his lingering scent that had begun to fade as days went on, but one that told her he had been in the exact sitting room she stood in, and he had been there very recently.

It took her barely ten more minutes to find him in the training ring, pummeling a dummy, shirtless and sweaty.

Poor thing.

The dummy looked ready to split at the seams if he didn’t stop, and so she stepped in, clearing her throat.

"Long day?"

He stilled, shoulders heaving. But didn’t turn.

The setting sun cast long shadows over the sand pit, his already large figure looking larger than ever.

"Something like that."

She hummed, crossing her arms and leaning against the archway. "Heard tea helps."

"Not in the mood for it."

A shadow slithered across the ground towards Y/n, but it froze just a moment before touching her boots. Looking up told her that Azrie had turned halfway, his eyes fixed on the rogue little thing.

"What are you in the mood for, then?"

Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet hers, the hazel set ablaze. "To be left alone."

The lazy smile she had fixed on her face faded, and she straightened, tightening her gloves as nonchalantly as she could.

She did not miss the way her chest sang at the way his eyes followed her movements, nor did she miss the barely there intake of breath as she stepped into the ring. "Too bad, I am in the mood for a tussle."

"I’m not fighting you."

"But I will be fighting you."

His brows furrowed. "Same thing."

"No."

He released a breath, sounding oh so exasperated, like he hadn’t tested her patience for a month straight. "Y/n, I really am in no mood to-"

"Well too-" punch "-freaking-" punch "-bad."

She paused, her chest expanding to pull in enough air for the next round of punches she flexed her finger for. He watched her warily, hunched over slightly as he held his bare abs.

He’s half naked.

Not my problem.

Your fantasy, though.

She shook her head, dislodging the thought along with stray strands of hair sticking to her skin as he straightened, his eyes concerned.

"Y/n, what-"

She didn’t let him get another word in before she threw another punch towards his abdomen. This time, he had enough time and instincts to shoot his hand out and hold her fist away from him.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

Her eyes narrowed in on him, the pit of anger in her chest bubbling over, beginning to poison her veins. "What is wrong with me? Me, Azriel?"

He had the decency to look chagrined as he dropped her fist and took a step back, his eyes searing hers.

"I’ll tell you what’s wrong." She mused, her teeth gritted as she took a step to mirror him. Another punch was flying through the air before she could stop herself, snapping his face to the side.

"Y/n, that’s enough-"

Another punch, this time at his pectorals and finally, a tether seemed to snap in him.

His arm came up to intercept her next hit, his eyes alight with fury, and he pushed her off of him, lips twisting in a sneer. "What has gotten into you? Why are you acting like a bloodlusting animal?"

A pang echoed through her chest at his words, her eyes narrowing. "Is that what you think of me? An animal?"

Azriel’s brows furrowed. "What- no-"

Y/n launched herself on him, teeth bared as a guttural snarl ripped through her throat. Before her nails could make contact with his heaving shoulders, though, he had her pinned to the ground, sand clouding the air around them.

For a long moment, she struggled against him, a strangled sound, almost an angry sob, spilling from her mouth. But when the weight on her refused to budge, she stopped, panting heavily as she glared up at him.

Azriel’s gaze remained unwavering as he bore down on Y/n, confusion and fury alike rippling off of him.

"Now, will you tell me like a normal freaking person what bit you, or am I going to have to chain you like a beast and get your brother?"

She scoffed, pushing against his hold, however futile her efforts were. It gave her a sense of satisfaction at the low grunt he let out and that was all that mattered. "Of course, I am, after all, a beast to be chained."

He scowled. "Y/n you need to stop taking everything I say in the wrong meaning. Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Well, if you put words in your own mouth, I wouldn't have to. But you seem to have a talent of hiding away for days on end instead of talking things out."

His brows furrowed. "Is that what this is about? Me going away for barely a month?"

Her brows rose, incredulity taking over the rage that had been blazing through her not a moment ago. "No, Azriel, this is about you tucking tail and fleeing when you really should have talked to me."

Understanding dawned on his features, the shadows cast by the almost set sun making the difference starker. "Cassian told you."

"No one told me sh- anything, Azriel." She huffed, rolling her eyes. "Not even you." Y/n could tell Azriel was beginning to lose his patience, frustration evident in the set of his shoulders, so she hurried to add. "I figured it out myself."

His jaw tightened, a muscle feathering as he pushed himself off her into a kneeling position, head turned away from her.

She scrambled to follow, staring at him accusingly. "What? Nothing to say?"

"Y/n, I don't know-" He sounded so helpless, so lost, that all fight drained out of Y/n. She hadn’t expected him to tell her he wanted her, or even give a good enough excuse as to why he didn't even talk to her about it. She'd already figured he didn't want her or the bond, and she wouldn't have cared. She wasn't going to force herself upon him. But him sounding so dejected, so… heartbroken, it broke something in her too.

"I don't want the bond, Az. But you could have told me…" She trailed off, swallowing when he turned to her, his eyes wide.

"You- you don't?" His voice broke towards the end. Y/n stared at him, wondering if she was misunderstanding the emotions on his face for desperation instead of relief, then shrugged coolly, trying to not let her feelings show, like she always did in emotional situations.

"I mean, if you don't want it, I don't want it. I mean, I get it, why would you want it anyway-"

"Y/n I- I want it."

Her brows rose. "Huh?"

"I do, I really do."

She raised an unimpressed brow. "You really do?"

He scowled. "Yes, Y/n."

"Then why’d you run off?"

"I- I was scared."

She scoffed, undeniable hope beginning to take root in her heart. "Of me?"

"No!" He looked horrified she had even uttered such atrocious words, and slowly, Y/n began to humour the possibility that he really was not playing a sick prank on her. "I- I thought you wouldn’ want it."

She nodded sagely. "And running away instead of just asking me about it gave you answers you needed. Or maybe it gave me a change of mind and made me suddenly like you a lot, right?"

He huffed, looking down at his lap. "You can stop now."

"Of course, I’m too loud for you, right?"

He released a breath, pushing to his feet and dusting off his pants. "I know what you’re trying to do, and it won’t work."

"I am doing nothing but stating what you’re thinking."

He turned to her, looking thoroughly unamused as he extended an arm. "Would you like to sit here and continue bullying me into saying something I don’t want to say, or are you going to come with me and break the news to your brother?"

"I think I’m fine here, thank you." She mused, leaning back on her hands as she grinned up at him.

He remained emotionless, though the corner of his lips ticked up. "Come on, up."

She pouted. "No."

He did not move, and neither did she. Eventually, he gave up and crouched next to her, hands hanging from his knees. "Why not?"

"It’s your job to convince him." She shrugged.

He reached out, and Y/n forced herself to sit still, trying not to move even an inch in case he stopped whatever it was he was doing. She held still as he grabbed a stray strand of her hair between his thumb and index finger, rubbing it. His whole being seemed to be focused on that act, the texture of the strands.

A cool breeze tickled the nape of her neck, sending shivers down her spine and her hair swaying. It seemed to break him out of his reverie, and he lifted his gaze to meet her eyes, molten and soft.

"Y/n, I mean it. I want this, you. Have for a long time."

"How long?" She mumbled, not willing to just accept the confession. But that’s just how she was. And he knew that, and the fact that he still wanted her was beyond her.

This time, his smile grew as he leaned in, his hand dropping her hair and grabbing her jaw instead. "Over a century, if my maths is correct."

She rolled her eyes. "And to think all this drama could have been avoided if you had just talked."

He raised a brow, poking her arm with the hand that wasn’t occupied with holding her face. "It could also have been avoided had you said something."

She lifted her chin. "Why should I? I’m a female."

He snorted, the sound of incredulity so at odds with the gentle swipe of his thumb on her cheek. "So?"

"So, I’m not the one who should make the first move. You should, and yet I had to come here and ask you to-"

"Punch and bully me, you mean."

She rolled her eyes again, moving to push the hand that still poked her arm away. "Whatever I do it always seems like bullying to you."

He said nothing, just tugged her face closer and placed his lips at her forehead.

Blood surged to her neck and face, hot and quick, as he pulled back to smile at her. He gently grabbed her hand and pulled her up so she stood toe to toe with him, gazing down at her with emotions she had never seen in him before.

At least, not for her.

She didn’t know what to do with herself under that gaze. Was her hand placement too awkward? Was her head lifted too high? Was she looking at the right feature on his face?

She could not even begin to let herself think about his words.

Stop, it’s not that serious.

I want this. Want you.

For over a century.

It was unbelievable, so inconceivable, that Y/n could not even begin to process the fact that he did actually reciprocate her feelings, and it was not just because of a sacred bond.

She needed at least days to get herself to take in the information he had dumped on her, and now she understood why he had run off. Especially now that the pull on her ribs was stronger, firmer.

He rested his forehead against hers, blissfully unaware of the turmoil inside Y/n, caressing the skin on her face softly before sighing, the rising moon highlighting the apples of his cheeks and the slight tint of red.

"I’ve been so scared to say anything, thinking you wouldn’t like me back ro Rhys would bite my head off, but now I can say we’re mates and he wouldn’t do anything."

Y/n giggled. "He might still beat you to a pulp."

He chuckled, shaking his head and pulling Y/n into his chest. "Well, getting beat up is still better than being barred from loving you."

Her heart did a silly little jump, but she pulled away to point a finger at him, frowning. "Your flowery words will do nothing to get you out of punishment."

His brows rose in question. "Punishment? For what?"

She turned away. "For making me lose my mind for a month straight, thinking you didn’t want me."

He snorted. "Have you seen you? No male would reject you, not even someone who’s lost his mind."

 She smiled secretly as she proceeded to walk down the stairs, disbelief at how things had turned out and his quiet steps following behind with a sigh. "You’re saying I belong in an asylum with a mental-"

"Y/n-"

"Oh I’ll just shut up then-"

"Y/n."

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

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[clowns0cks]

he's got that sadness about him you only see in catholic stained glass windows

[twojamie-o-clock]

Jamie forgot so the Doctor had to remember for the both of them, I guess.

[aziracrxw]

this took way too long eugh

[cas-is-queer]

Trying to explain thoschei to a non-whovian should qualify as an Olympic sport