#az is whipped

[miryum]

You've Got Stars in Your Eyes so Let's Paint the Sky (Azriel x Reader)

Summary: Azriel “mourns” his wife

Warnings: Az pretending to be angsty (but happy ending), recreational drug use (tho not from Az or reader), gambling, drinking/alcohol, mentions of hangovers, timeline is a bit loosey goosey, a bit of Elain-bashing, guilt. (title is from Hold On by Extreme Music. Fic is not based off of it, but I was listening to it while editing and thought it fit well)

Word Count: 2.9k

Azriel was hardly one to get intoxicated. Yet there he was, sitting around the expansive fireplace with the other members of the Inner Court, tossing back his fifth glass of alcohol. 

It was not an uncommon occurrence for the Court to get drunk every once in a while and indulge in pleasure after their missions. Azriel had just returned from a two-week long commission and was slouched in an armchair big enough for his wings to fold comfortably behind him. It hadn’t been very taxing, but the trip had required secrecy. He couldn’t speak to anyone, just having to let his shadows zip in and out of places, returning to whisper in his ear. Admittedly, he had missed his family and couldn’t say no when Cassian asked him to join in some indulgences.

A cloud of weed surrounded Cass as he took another drag. Even Rhys had an ornate pipe between his lips, though he had yet to light it. Feyre sat on his lap, dragging a slow hand through his hair. Mor had convinced Nesta to play a round of cards and the pair had money laid out for the winner. Elain was sitting next to them, awkwardly watching. Amren was in Summer Court, visiting Varian.

The Shadowsinger didn’t like to drink. It usually brought back painful memories at night, though he was able to forget about them during the fact. He liked the sting of alcohol and its taste, but not the effects. The pleasure of it burning down his throat was always welcome, but the headache in the morning was uncomfortable. As he would lay in bed that next morning, memories swirled in his mind, either one’s from the night before or from his childhood. It was a gamble he was very rarely willing to take. And yet, as he watched Rhys finally light his pipe, Azriel couldn’t help but take another down of his drink. He swallowed thickly and the alcohol was like fire. The moment he compared it, he glanced down at his hands. Flexing his fingers, Azriel turned his stare to his whiskey. It was a lovely amber that seemed to glow in the firelight.

Azriel’s eyes wandered to his brothers and their mates. His finger slid around the rim of his cup, sometimes catching on the glass and disrupting his rhythm. His lips pressed together and his gaze turned to the fire. Shadows slowly curled around him, resting in his lap like a cat. They shifted and creeped lazily up to settle on his forearms. One wisped around his ear before brushing against his cheek, like a kiss. A deep sadness settled within Azriel. His heart weighed down as if by an anchor. 

He reached up and brushed at the leathers right over his chest, like he was searching for something that wasn’t there. One shadow climbed up to nestle in his hair, before settling down with a wistful sigh only Azriel could hear.

“You alright, brother?” Rhys asked, noting the shift in mood. Feyre glanced towards Azriel, resting her head on Rhys’ shoulder. Elain quickly looked over her shoulder.

The Illyrian nodded, exhaling through his nose. “Simply thinking,” is what he only replied.

Cassian blew out a smoke ring before turning to the conversation. “And what is it that you’re thinking of?”

Azriel only shook his head when he noticed Nesta peering up at him suspiciously. She laid down a card and Mor’s brows furrowed just a touch. It was things like these that one noticed being the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

Rhys studied Az’s face carefully. It wasn’t unusual for Azriel to be quiet, but something about this was unsettling. Something was on his mind and there was only one person that made Azriel this melancholy. Unfortunately, the weed was lowering his inhibitions, and he forgot the promise he had made to Azriel when the Archeron sisters had first arrived. “Thinking of Y/n again?” he asked in a whisper, though his voice was powerful enough to sweep the room. 

Mor instantly tensed, a contemplative frown on her face. Cassian blew out a long column of smoke, using his full chest to exhale. Feyre stared at Azriel, confusion swirling on her features. She stayed in the crook of her mate’s side, ever perceptive. Nesta rubbed a card between her thumb and pointer, about to set it down. She was the first to speak. “Who’s Y/n?”

The night was silent and it took a long time for Azriel to answer. He pressed his finger into the rim of his glass and the shadow in his hair seemed to deflate slightly. Even the shadows in his lap stilled before curling tighter around their master, either asking for comfort or trying to give it.

“My wife.”

Elain’s eyes grew wide and a thick blush covered her cheeks. Her stare darted down to his fingers, as if looking for a ring. When she didn’t find one, she turned away, head ducking down. Feyre lifted her head off of Rhys’ shoulder and even Nesta looked shocked. The senior Inner Circle, however, didn’t react. They all knew who Y/n was and they loved her dearly.

“I miss her. I miss my wife,” Azriel muttered, staring down into his drink.

Azriel could barely see through his tears. He stood, in a new custom suit, in front of his brothers. He sniffed once and Rhys clapped him on the back so hard he let out a cough. 

“Where is she?” Cass muttered from his place behind Rhys. Rhys then turned around and gave him a sharp glare. Amren rolled her eyes at their display and Mor gave Azriel an encouraging nod. The females were standing opposite them.

It was then that the door to the garden opened and Azriel turned to see his mate, you, walk out. 

You were wearing the dress you had always gushed about and your hair was styled beautiful. A bouquet of flowers was grasped in your hands, though Azriel could hardly see any of that. All he could see was your eyes. They had quickly become his favourite colour and something he loved to stare into. 

The tears finally began to fall. He could hardly remember the words the High Priestess said, too lost in the feeling of your hands in his and how utterly beautiful you looked. You had insisted on a wedding after learning of the human custom. Your mating bond had snapped over seven years ago, but Azriel was more than happy to keep indulging in your wishes.

Morrigan and Amren were your ladies and Rhysand and Cassian were Azriel’s gentlemen, something you insisted was vital in a wedding. You had also insisted on exchanging rings, slipping the band onto his fingers before he repeated the gesture to you.

Finally, Azriel had the chance to kiss you. He had kissed you plenty of times before, even before you were mated, but this felt… more complete. With one hand on your hip, he pulled you close. You let out a giggle as his other hand cradled the back of your neck. His lips curved up into a devilish grin before dipping you low. You let out a lovely squeal, arms looping around his neck, before he silenced you with a fierce kiss.

And so you were wed. And he would never let you go.

Mor let out a sigh, rising from her place on the floor. She stood for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. Eventually, she decided to refill her own glass before offering the pitcher to Azriel. He took it thankfully. “I miss her as well,” she said. “But it does not help to dwell on her, Azriel. It only makes you sad, and you know this.”

“What- what happened?” Elain asked, clearing her throat. Feyre shot her a stern look but Nesta hummed in agreement. As much as Feyre wanted to be considerate, her curiosity also burned.

In response to Azriel’s silence, Rhys provided quietly, “I sent her on a mission. Years ago.” The muscles in his jaw jumped and Feyre made a sympathetic noise, running a hand through his hair again. “I don’t believe Azriel has ever forgiven me since.”

Azriel let out a derisive scoff. He pressed his lips together and gave Rhys an eye roll. However, after a moment, he said, “it comes and goes.”

Elain shifted her position so she was sitting a little closer to Azriel and facing him. “How many years ago?” she asked, her voice calm and consoling. “Do you still have your ring?”

Cassian was the one to answer, brows pulling together like a drawstring. “Only two years,” he said. It sounded like he was scolding Elain, but Azriel didn’t notice, instead focusing on a shadow that was weaving around his fingers. 

The shadow drifted up to rest on Az’s collarbone and it dipped down to touch his leathers. With a sad, nostalgic smile, he tugged out a chain that was hidden beneath his clothing. Hanging down from it was a gold ring. “Even before her mission, I thought it would be best to keep it out of sight,” he murmured. “In case I was ever caught. I wouldn’t want to risk her.”

Mor, who had been drifting around the room, gave Azriel’s shoulder a squeeze as she passed.

Meanwhile, Elain glanced towards Feyre, a pleading look in her eyes. Rhys turned towards his mate and let his hand glide up and down her side. Feyre finally asked, “did the bond ever snap for the two of you?”

Azriel’s entire expression softened and practically everyone could see his shoulders relax. He wasn’t sure if it was the memories or the fire that sent a warm feeling through his chest and throughout his body.

You stood on your balcony, doors wide open and arms crossed. You didn’t want to be here. You didn’t want to be at the Town House. You wanted to be at your shared apartment with Azriel, one that was located in the city center. But, seeing as Az was being a stubborn male, you had decided to spend the night away.

Of course, Azriel wasn’t going to let you. You saw his shadows before you saw him. They zipped to you, racing up your body. They twirled around you excitedly and you couldn’t help your smile. Even if you were mad at the Shadowsinger, you couldn't stay mad at his shadows. “You know I love you, yes?” came his smooth, quiet voice from behind you.

You let out a breath and nodded. Azriel came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder and in your peripheral vision, you could see his wings twitch next to you, as if wanting to embrace you too.

“That’s not an apology,” you noted.

It was Azriel’s turn to sigh and his breath tickled your skin. “I know,” he murmured. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Entering your relationship, you were aware that apologising was hard for Azriel. He wasn’t used to making mistakes and was usually so guarded and careful that he didn’t. But you were different. You made him feel things that no one else had and he didn’t know what to do with those feelings. He was bound to make some mistakes.

Finally, he turned his head into your neck and whispered out, “I am sorry, my love.”

That’s when the bond snapped.

Your soul was yanked towards Azriel’s and the centre of the universe seemed to change. Everything was now focused on him. Everything now made sense. And based on the hopeful, desperate expression on Azriel’s face, he felt it too.

“We didn’t see them until practically a month after their mating ceremony,” Mor snickered. Cass let out a loud laugh, the weed making everything seem much more funny than it actually was. Elain pressed her lips together. 

Azriel shook his head fondly. His shadows suddenly darted away from him, but he was too inebriated to care. “Shut your mouth, Morrigan,” he muttered, though he was smiling. “What can I say? I love Y/n. It was a nice month.” He took a sip of his whiskey, trying to hide his grin.

Yet, before he could start reminiscing, a knock sounded against the wood of the doorframe. “Az, what are you telling these lovely people?” a new voice spoke up, a teasing lilt in the tone.

Azriel instantly stood. “By the Cauldron,” he murmured reverently. He didn’t notice the Archeron sisters peering curiously at the newcomer as he launched himself into your arms. You were obstructed from view to the sisters as Azriel’s wings curled around you protectively as he held you close. His grip was desperate and loving as he pressed his face into the crook of your neck. “My love,” he whispered out so that only you could hear. “I didn’t know you were visiting.”

You held your mate close, a hand brushing calmly in his curls and your other on his back. “I’m not visiting,” you replied softly. “Rhys said I could be done. With the mission, I mean.”

Azriel had half a mind to turn and shoot an accusing look at Rhys, but he wouldn’t take his eyes away from your beautiful face. “My wife,” he muttered. He took your hand in his and kissed the ring you wore proudly. “Forgive me.”

“What for?” you asked.

He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours. “That promise I made to you years ago – I didn’t keep it. I let my emotions get the best of me as I missed you. Rhys didn’t deserve my anger for sending you away.”

You let out a laugh that was beauty incarnate to Azriel’s ears and Feyre shared an bemused look with Nesta. Since when did Azriel apologise? And for being rude to his brothers, of all things. To add to it, he had been smiling more with you in his arms than the entire time they had known him. Was it simply that the Shadowsinger had missed his mate? Was there another layer underneath that lay dormant until you were there to peel it back? What was Azriel truly like when the love of his life was home?

Cassian called you over and you exchanged hugs with the rest of the Inner Circle. Mor was ecstatic to have you back – her best friend had returned. You were disappointed that Amren wasn’t there to greet you, but you understood the needed time with her mate. After all, you were sure Azriel wouldn’t let you out of his sight after being reunited. 

You were then introduced to the Archeron sisters. You gave Feyre a little teasing bow and greeted, “my High Lady.” Feyre scoffed and swept you into a welcoming hug. 

Nesta was next to greet you and you congratulated her on being able to put up with Cassian. Azriel laughed at your joke, arm around your waist. Throughout greetings and introductions, he had never left your side. Every so often, he would place a kiss on your temple or give your hip a small squeeze. He truly was a different man around you.

Eventually, you stood in front of Elain. “Azriel made it sound like you were dead,” she said in hello. Her voice made it sound like she was passing blame onto your mate, but you tried to brush it off.

With a laugh, you said, “well, he gets rather grumpy whenever I’m away for too long. I’m sure you understand.” Some of Azriel’s shadows brushed lovingly along your arms and face.

“He wasn’t wearing his ring, you know?” She laughed along with you, albeit a bit awkwardly. “You have a lovely mate. You’re very lucky to have him.”

You raised your brow and exchanged a look with Mor. “Yes,” you agreed slowly, thinking that was an odd thing to comment on. “But Azriel can choose to wear his ring or not. And he talked to me about it beforehand. We both thought it best to keep our marriage under wraps as we went on missions.” You held up your left hand and Azriel took that as his cue to nuzzle his nose into your hair. “I put mine on only a couple hours ago, when I knew I’d be coming back.”

Elain’s cheeks filled with heat and she nodded. Muttering some things about how she was glad to meet you, she stepped back and towards Nesta. 

Impatient as ever when it came to you, Azriel soon ushered you away with the complaint on his lips that your attention wasn’t only on him. He wanted to see you back in your home. After mating, he had chosen a wonderful house special just for the two of you. Over the months, it had gotten harder and harder to live there without your presence. Oh, how he had missed you.

When you were finally alone, you cradled his face in your hands, finally able to kiss your mate after two years. One hand slipped down to pull on the chain that hung around his neck. “I need you to wear this now,” you whispered. 

Azriel chuckled and raised a brow. “Jealous, my love?” He pressed close to you, unable to take the feeling of you not cradled in his arms any longer.

“I think I’m entitled to some jealousy,” you replied. “After almost twenty-eight months without hearing your voice, seeing your face, or touching your skin, I get some leeway.”

“Hmm, that you do,” he muttered, slipping his ring back on proudly. “Now, will my beautiful wife accompany me to our home?”

“With pleasure.”

[shrot-t]

celebratory family portrait

[catfindr]

[procrastiel]

I love y’all very much, but I need to know: do you really think Aziraphale is the dominant partner in this relationship? The angel who literally went ‘toot-toot’ when he sounded the Bentley’s horn?

[bil-daddy]

@bil-daddy Hey Daddy when you are helping people pop out babies, does that make @mrazfellco Papa your nurse with the outfit and all? Also I found slots of whipcream in the kitchen but it’s too much for a dessert. Does Daddy have any ideas how to use it so it won’t go to waste?

He sure does, kid.

And don't worry about the whip cream. Daddy and Papa've got it all taken care of.

[prythianpages]

Tonight, the Light of Love is in Your Eyes

Azriel x Rhysand's Sister (reader) | You find yourself in the middle of a political affair, where you seek refuge in a dance with Azriel. And in the spur of the moment, Azriel tells you he loves you for the first time.

warnings: secret love, implied smut (brief mention), you and az being impulsive and risking it all

word count: 1,900

a/n: I used the dialogue of this scene from The Witcher as a prompt for this fic.

“Hybern is still close to Spring. Though they’ve lost the war, it seems their alliance still stands. Bradwell has shown interest in her, it’d be best if she takes his favor tonight. Or even Tamlin’s, they are closer in age.”

Your gaze is fixed forward, but your mind drifts, creeping into the quiet mental conversation between your father and brother. They speak of you, as if your own desires are inconsequential, and it stings more than you let show.

“Why should she? When the High Lord of Autumn, who fought alongside our armies, has six sons and one on the way…”

Breathe in, breathe out. You force the command on yourself, struggling to maintain the composure you’ve perfected over years of courtly life. The mask you wear feels more fragile tonight, your heart threatening to crack the facade. 

You allow your eyes to wander and regret it when you meet the gaze of Bradwell–the eldest son of Spring. He is watching you, green eyes gleaming with a predatory sharpness, his smirk oozing arrogance. As if you’re a prize to be won–a prize already won. The sight of it turns your stomach. 

It’s instinctual almost–the way your eyes gravitate toward Azriel as they always do at the slightest discomfort. He’s been your anchor, your safety blanket for years. He stands just a few steps below you, tall and stoic. 

His hands are clenched into fists, shadows weaving and writhing along his limbs in a frenzy, whispering secrets to him that you ache to hear. His head is turned toward Bradwell and there’s no doubt his gaze is hardened into an icy composure when the eldest of Spring suddenly peels his gaze off of you.  

As you pull your gaze away from the Night Court’s Spymaster, you catch your mother’s eye. She sits beside your father on a much simpler throne. She sends you a sympathetic smile and you cast your gaze down, mask faltering as a blush creeps up your neck.

By the Cauldron, how you wish you could be anywhere but here. You’d much rather be alongside Cassian and Mor, who are most likely indulging in the fine wine and cheeses. The only redeeming part of these insufferable court parties.

“Is it not best to keep our most at-risk enemies close? Spring–”

Your body tenses, each muscle coiling as you listen to the words between your brother and father, their minds still unaware of your presence within them. It’s laughable, almost. Rhysand taught you well. You were a later bloomer when it came to the manifestation of your powers but the daemati power runs strong in you. 

Movement catches your eye. It’s Bradwell. He begins to make his way toward you, one hand already reaching for the sage-green handkerchief embroidered with a golden beast. A token you know he plans to offer. The sight of it makes something in you snap. You can’t take it anymore.

You whip your head around, your heart pounding, and your gaze finds Azriel once more—the only one you want. The only one you’ve ever wanted.

“Azriel, will you dance with me?”

The words escape your lips before you even realize you’ve said them. There’s a brief moment where the world seems to still as Azriel turns to meet your gaze. His eyes widen slightly, shadows pausing briefly in midair–the only sign of emotion he shows. 

But you feel a flutter in your chest.

It wouldn’t be the first time he’s danced with you. The two of you have danced plenty of times before. However, it’d be the first time you’d give him your first dance. A notion that seems silly but held to a high esteem in the Court of Nightmares.

You feel your father’s and Rhysand’s gaze also on you–the latter’s eyes narrowing at you. He’s already sensed the lingering presence you left in his mind, and you can feel his talons scratching at the edges of your mental walls. But you hold steady, just as he taught you and push him away.

Azriel keeps his eyes on you yet his shadows peer over his shoulders, the dark tendrils darting back and forth between your brother and father. Cautious and a bit defensive.

It’s your mother who breaks the silence. She had kept her gaze on the dance floor in front of her, that same knowing smile playing on her lips. “It is impolite to keep a lady waiting.”

Azriel nods his head. “Of course.”

He shifts forward–one foot resting on the first step while the other remains on the ground floor. He extends his scarred hand to you, his shadows barely able to contain their excitement, betraying the cool mask he dons.

You smile—truly smile—as you place your hand in his, and together, you walk toward the dance floor. Your heart swells with defiance as you purposefully avert your eyes when passing Bradwell, chin held high. Rhysand’s mental claws scratch harder, desperate to break through your defenses. You continue to shut him out, strengthening the walls of your mind. 

The Cauldron simmers in your favor. As you reach the dance floor, the music shifts to a slower, more romantic melody. Azriel’s hand wraps around yours, his fingers enclosing around your palm while his other hand rests gently at the small of your back. The tension in your body melts under his touch and you find yourself leaning in closer to him, your body always yearning to be with his.

Shadows slither softly around you, hiding within the seams of your black dress like a protective shield. Azriel’s eyebrows furrow and you recognize the brief distant look in his eyes. “Rhys is not happy,” he murmurs. “Your first dance was supposed to be with the eldest son of Spring.”

His jaw clenches and you see the way his shadows curl tighter around him as if to suffocate the jealousy he dares not voice.

“Let him sulk. I get to decide who to dance with, who to be with.”

Azriel was the master of composure. He’s always calm, steady, controlled. But tonight, something in his gaze feels different. There’s something vulnerable there, something pained. He looks away for a moment, as if trying to keep his emotions from manifesting further. 

“I can’t offer you what he can..."

His hand twitches in yours, like he’s about to pull away, but you hold him tighter. “Good,” you respond without hesitation. “I don’t want anything that arrogant ass has to offer.”

Azriel’s eyes snap back to yours, searching, conflicted. He hesitates, as if still grappling with the part of himself that believes he doesn’t deserve this. That you deserve more, much better than him. Someone who can give you the world, not someone who only knows to live in the shadows.

You intertwine your fingers with his, lips curling into a small grin. “Your ass is the only one I want,” you add, your power reaching out to him and gently slipping past his defenses to show him the marvelous view you had of his backside earlier.

And as your thoughts drift to the last night you shared together, where you got to see all of him, Azriel lets out an exhale, his lips mirroring the upwards curl to yours. Taking advantage of the grip you have on his mind, you show him more memories from that night. The way his scarred hands had caressed every inch of your body, his lips following the path his hands made…

 “I can’t give you much,” Azriel’s voice had dropped to a whisper, barely a rasp as he leaned his forehead against yours. His nose brushed with yours, lips hovering right over your own.  “But I can give you everything I have.”

You smiled softly at him, your fingers brushing the side of his face, tracing every line and contour of the male who held your heart. So beautiful, so perfect. 

“That’s all I’ll ever need,” you replied and then closed the small gap between you to kiss him.

The pained look in his hazel eyes melts into something warmer, something sweeter, as he takes in the memories of that night through your eyes. He had never doubted your love, but the weight of his own insecurities—his belief that he was beneath you—constantly gnawed at him.

Every time he touched you in secret, every night you spent hidden away together, he feared that someday you might wake up and realize he wasn’t enough.

But here, dancing with you, the way your eyes held him, he felt that overwhelming doubt ease. To see and feel the depth of your sincerity, as if your very soul called out to his…

“I love you.”

Your heart stilled at the words, your step faltering. In a smooth maneuver, Azriel spins you around, catching you effortlessly before you could stumble. His hands steady you as you face him once more.

 “That’s the first time you’ve said that,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper, though you know Azriel’s shadows are already ensuring no one else can hear your words.

“It can’t be,” Azriel murmurs in disbelief, brows furrowing slightly. 

“You used to think it,” you quietly admit, your gaze dropping for a moment before returning to his. It wasn’t that you had ever meant to pry, but when it was just the two of you, his mind was often at ease, unguarded. Sometimes, his thoughts would be too loud for you to ignore. “But tonight, you finally said it.”

The shadows hidden within the lacey seams of your dress stir and you watch as one of the shadows lingering over Azriel’s shoulders slithers up and curls around his ear. His grip on you tightens and your ears perk up. 

The song is coming to an end and though couples continue to dance and whirl around you, your nose picks up on an approaching scent. Fresh wildflowers and oak—rich and lovely, exuding the essence of Spring. Yet it fills you with dread. You don’t want this moment to end. You’re tired of pretending, of living this life of secrecy.

“Azriel,” you say, one hand reaching out toward his face to turn his attention back to you. A bold move but tonight, you’re ready to be even bolder. “Kiss me.”

His shadows stir, swirling anxiously around him, their whispers warning that too many eyes are upon you both. You can feel his hesitation, the unspoken question in his gaze as he searches your face.

“In front of everyone,” you confirm. Show them I’m yours, you speak into his mind, and only yours.

Azriel pauses, his chest tightening at the implication of your words. He can feel Rhysand’s presence–furious and demanding– trying to slip into his mind. No doubt trying to steer him away from this impulsive display and away from you. 

He feels the weight of the room pressing down on him—the sons of Spring and Autumn watching his every breath.

But all of that falls away when he meets your eyes again. 

There is only you in this moment.

The one who had always been able to see through his walls, the one who made him feel like the most precious thing in the room, the only one he cared about.

“Kiss me,” you whisper again.

And Azriel is not going to let you ask a third time.

Not when the light of love is shining so brightly in your eyes. His hand covers yours on his cheek, and then, he leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that silences the room.

Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

a/n: It's been awhile since I wrote for Az. Miss this shadow daddy lol. Part 2 is already up 🫶🏽 you can find it here.

General tag list: @scooobies, @kennedy-brooke, @sillysillygoose444, @lilah-asteria @the-sweet-psycho

@daycourtofficial, @milswrites, @stormhearty, @pit-and-the-pen, @mybestfriendmademe

@loving-and-dreaming @azriels-human @mrsjna, @adventure-awaits13, @lorosette

fic tag: @noisyinfluencerstrawberry

[safetypinxtales]

Santa baby | Azriel

summary: it's nearing solstice and you have an extensive list for your mate Santa.

words: 1.5k

warnings: fluff, a bit of seduction, Azriel is stupid in love, like absolutely whipped, reader sits in Azriel's lap, feminine reader (lipgloss, hair below shoulder-length), otherwise neutrally described reader, no use of y/n, it's an AU where everything is the same except Santa is a thing.

notes: well, it's been a while but it's Christmas and I have free time for once so why not write? I whipped this one up in like an hour whilst waiting for our guests to arrive today, and it has minimal editing, but it's something light and sweet for the holidays. Hope you enjoy and merry Christmas! 🤍

masterlist

The glass is cold in your hand as you waltz into the living room. The winter sun had already set on the quaint seaside cottage you shared with Azriel. He had surprised you with it after your mating ceremony last solstice, and as you took in the shadows dancing around on the walls, cast by dim candle light, a feeling of contentedness enveloped you. The amber liquid in the glass sloshed with each step you took, but never quite enough to spill over the rim. It was a practiced routine, bringing him a drink whenever you found your mate a little too stuck in his work.

His head lifted from the paperwork he had been going over as he sensed your presence entering the living room, the hand that had been carefully turning a leaf falling slack on the armrest.

His eyes dropped down to your hips, watching them sway with every step you took, gaze fixed as if in a trance.

You let out a low hum as you reached him, extending the glass. His eyes met yours as he put the paperwork aside and accepted your offering.

Slowly – gracefully and practiced – you slid into his lap, one arm snaking its way around his shoulder. The warmth of his hands on your waist spread all the way into your chest, making your heart beat just that little bit faster.

Grabbing his face, feeling the slight stubble of his cheek under your palm, you planted your lips on his. 

The kiss was soft and warm, and perfectly matched the feeling blooming in your chest has he murmured a low:

“Hello, my love.”

“Hello,” you hummed back and felt that slow tug in your chest that you had come to love so. 

You gave a loving tug back and felt Azriel shudder beneath you.

Letting you gaze flit over his face, you marveled at his features. 

The dark lashes framing those mesmerizing hazel eyes of his. The colour of the finest of honey, all swirling and golden. 

The constellations of freckles adorning his cheeks, like a map only you were privy to read.

His lips, currently smeared in your lipgloss and stretched into a dopey smile making him look just as lovesick as you felt inside.

“Hey, Az?” You broke the warm silence that had enveloped you.

“Yes, my love?” He murmured, his eyes flicking down to your lips briefly before finding their way back to yours.

You leaned in to give him another soft peck, only pulling away to rest your forehead against his.

“I have.. I’ve been thinking about something,” you whispered, feeling the breath from his curious yes? on your lips. “About what I want from Santa this year.”

He pulled back slightly at your words, eyebrows raised and that dopey smile still plastered on that pretty mouth of his. He knew as well as you that Santa meant Azriel himself.

“Oh, really? Please, do tell,” his curious hum sent you heart fluttering as you settled in further in his lap.

“Well, do you remember that dagger I liked so much when we visited summer? The gold one?” You purred and ran your fingers through his hair. His eyes fluttered as your nails lightly scratched his scalp.

“The one with the eye-sized ruby in the pommel?” You nodded. “My love, that blade is useless. You couldn’t even cut an apple with it, much less cause any real damage,” he scoffed, ”you’d be better off fighting someone with a cotton ball. That you could at least shove down their throat – hope they choke to death.”

His eyes gleamed at the gasp you let out. The soft swat you landed on his chest drawing out a quiet chuckle.

“I know it’s useless in combat, but it’s so pretty isn’t it? Besides, why would I need to fight when I have you to defend me?” You chirped with a flutter of lashes. 

You just managed to catch his eyes darkening before he pulled you into yet another kiss, this time firmer. Purposeful. 

Claiming.

When he pulled away his breath was heavier and his voice rougher as he swore, “I will always protect you, always defend you.”

“Even if I’m in the wrong?”

“No such thing.”

Your toes curled at his admission, and the hand that was tangled in his hair tightened its grip.

“Good answer,” you mused, and his thumbs swiped at your waist – up and down. 

“What else should Santa put on his list?”

You pretended to think for a moment, pursing your lips into a glossy pout, knowing just how crazy the act drove your mate.

And just as you could have predicted, his eyes dropped down to your mouth, his smile fading slightly, his eyelids growing heavier.

“Well you know that necklace that Feyre has? That she wore on our mating ceremony?” You asked.

He nodded in response, eyes still focused on your lips.

You let your cheeks pull into a broad smile, “well I saw that the jewellery shop by the Palace of Thread and Jewels has its twin in gold.”

“The diamond necklace you kept sighing about for weeks after the ceremony? The one that had me questioning if it was the mating bond that was making you so blue?” He questioned, his voice laced with disbelief.

“That’s the one,” you replied. Removing your hand from where it was nestled against his head, you moved to push your hair over your shoulder, exposing your décolletage.

”Wouldn’t it fit me so well?” You asked, letting your hands graze the bottom of your throat, following the curve down to the top of your chest, watching his eyes track the movement with a predatory focus.

Azriel’s throat bobbed, “It would.”

Your hand fell to his arm, giving the muscle hiding under his sweater a light squeeze. 

“Yeah, you really think so?” You gave him your best hopeful look, batting your eyelashes for added effect.

He simply nodded, too much of a lovestruck, mess of a male in your presence to form any actual words. 

“That’s good,” you hum, “now I only have one last thing on my wish list.”

Your mate didn’t verbally respond, but you took the squeeze of his hands on your hips as a sign to keep going.

“An apartment in the city.”

That seemed to bring Azriel back to life.

“An apartment? Is the cottage I got for us not enough?” He asked with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Well, no, I love the cottage – you know that. But sometimes it would be nice to have somewhere closer to go to after having spent the evening with the others, don’t you think?”

“It takes half a second to winnow from there to here,” he deadpanned, causing you to roll your eyes.

“But I think it would be nice to stay in the city sometimes. To be able to walk home, a stroll along the Sidra,” you gave him your sweetest, most innocent smile and added, “just you and me?”

You could see his resolve melting, and felt the largeness of his hand leave your waist in favour of gently stroking your thigh. 

“An apartment, huh?” His soft voice still had some reluctance hanging on to it, but you could tell he was warming up to the idea pretty quickly.

Your head bobbed up and down in confirmation, and an amused sigh left his lips.

“You must think mighty highly of yourself, dear, to think Santa would give you such special treatment,” he mused as he pulled you closer. 

“Well, I just have it on a hunch that Santa might know that my wonderful, loving mate, who – if I haven’t already mentioned – loves me so,” Azriel’s eyes crinkled at the corners as you continued, “works for the high lord.”

Amusement danced in his eyes, and a soft red glow started making its way up his cheeks.

“So maybe someone like that, like me. Like the mate of the Night court spymaster, deserves to be a little spoiled.” You leaned in to kiss his jaw, and stopped to whisper in his ear, “it sure would make her happy.”

He hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking across your thigh at a slow but steady pace.

“Besides,” you continued, leaning back to look him in the eyes, “I have been such a good girl this year.” 

Azriel’s administrations on you leg stopped, his large hand instead coming up to cup your face. 

He hummed lowly, eyes locked on your lips, eyebrows drawn together in a pensive look.

“You really have,” he murmured.

Again, he pulled you into a kiss, molding his lips to yours. You let yourself melt into him – your wonderful, loving spymaster – into the warmth radiating from his large body. Into the secure grip of his hands and the gentle softness of his lips. You let yourself melt into your mate, with no care in the world, besides kissing him back.

When you finally pulled away you leaned in close to his ear and whispered, “if Santa is very kind to me, I promise I will be just as good next year.”

“Yeah?” His voice was thick with emotion.

“Yes, maybe even better.” You promised, and leaned back to look at him. 

You cupped his jaw, the slight stubble adorning the skin scratching your hand in the most comforting way.

He shook his head slightly, his gaze never leaving yours.

“Not possible.”

Want to be added to my taglist?

tags: @missussimonriley @azrielshadows1nger @anuttellaa @tele86 @aria-chikage @lilah-asteria

(since I haven't written in a while, lmk if you want to be removed)

[assriels]

honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite. 

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures. 

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning. 

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.” 

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache. 

“‘s too hot.” 

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat? 

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed. 

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs. 

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin. 

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer. 

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.” 

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.” 

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at. 

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling. 

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him. 

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane. 

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his. 

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions. 

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress. 

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat. 

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so. 

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him. 

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on. 

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast. 

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?” 

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics. 

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back. 

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you. 

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.  

[pellucid-constellations]

Compliments to the Line Cook

Pairing: Line Cook!Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel never goes for any of the girls on staff. Cassian can't figure out why—and it's pissing him off.

Word count: 1k

Warnings: None! Maybe some language but I tend to do that with modern AUs oops

a/n: Me 🤝 eventually turning to AUs for every fandom. Anyways I think I'm setting this up for a cute little series thing with oneshots because I am inspired ✨ enjoy!!

Main Masterlist ♡

~~

“Come on,” Cassian scoffed with an exasperated tilt of his head. “She is totally into you.” 

Azriel threw his friend a look, wiping his hands on the apron tied at his waist. “I don’t care.” 

“You don’t care? When’s the last time you got laid, man?” 

“Last night,” Azriel simply replied. He moved the prepped onions from the counter to the fridge. “Not that it’s any of your business.” 

“What? You didn’t tell me that,” Cassian pouted, pausing his spatula on the grill. 

Azriel huffed out a breathy laugh, taking up his post at the prep table once more. “Do I need to tell you every detail of my sex life, Cass? Would that help you get it up? I know you struggle.”

“Hey,” Cassian called out, brows raised as Azriel met his gaze. “Fuck you. Who was it, then?” 

“Well, it certainly wasn’t the barely legal host you won’t stop trying to set me up with,” Azriel grumbled.

“Dude, she’s literally 26.” 

“She doesn't look 26.” 

The order bell ringing punctuated the end of the pointless conversation between the two men. In truth, Cassian knew Azriel would never be interested in the new host who had been giving him eyes for the past week. Azriel was never interested in the hosts or the waitresses or even any of the customers. But he would never share why. 

Cassian had grown sick of it. 

He narrowed his eyes as he watched Azriel grab the ticket off the order wheel. He flicked the paper with a small hum, heading to the stove and lighting the burner. 

“Fess up,” Cassian urged, plating the burger for table 12 before tossing the towel on his shoulder into the sink. “You act all mysterious but I’m not an idiot. All the girls on staff basically throw themselves at you and you ignore them. They go on and on about your tattoos even though I have just as many. Gwyn even had her hand on your chest last week and you brushed her off with that awkward pat thing you do.” 

“The mean waitress doesn’t throw herself at me,” Azriel replied. He had yet to look up from the pan sizzling at his fingertips. 

“Oh shut up. Nesta doesn’t count.” 

“Well, you said all so…” 

“I swear to god, Az, I’m going to hit you right in that pretty face of yours—what the hell are you making?” Cassian interrupted himself, whipping around from the send-out counter to inspect the odd combination of ingredients being thrown in the pan. 

“An order,” Azriel stated. “I feel like you should be working.” 

“I am working, asshole,” Cassian grumbled.

Azriel made a noncommittal sound and slid an omelette from the pan onto a plate. He grabbed a handful of spices from the cabinet above and continued to work on the meal. Cassian’s confusion only heightened. 

“We don’t make omelettes past noon. It’s dinner. Why the hell did you make an omelette?” Cassian asked, trailing after his friend as he pushed past the swinging kitchen door. “And where the hell are you going?” 

“Will your curiosity ever be satisfied?” Azriel droned. “I’m clearly walking this plate out to table eight. Go back into the kitchen. The Walters were just seated and you know they order enough to feed an army.” 

Cassian ignored him, staying uncharacteristically silent as he set the intention to spy on his coworker. He let his feet stick at the entrance to the dining room, giving him a clear view of table eight and the girl with the backpack and laptop taking up its residence. 

Azriel placed a steady hand on the back of the booth, his chest pressed against the girl’s shoulder as he brought the plate around and edged her laptop aside. The omelette was placed down in front of her, but Cassian was quick to notice that she didn’t even glance at it, her face turned up with a grin. 

“Hi, baby,” Azriel greeted, a smile evident in his voice—a smile Cassian could hear from clear across the room. “Take a break. I made you dinner.” 

“From the secret menu?” she asked with a giggle.

Cassian watched, in complete shock, as Azriel leaned down to press a long, drawn-out kiss to her temple. “Always.” 

Cassian had a lot to say to that mysterious bastard.

[a-new-romantic]

us (azriel x reader)

"Welcome back Az!" Rhysand cheered, clapping his brother on the back as the rest of the inner circle turned to smile at him and welcome him back.

Azriel blinked at all the sudden attention but took it gracefully - like a true Shadowsinger. He had been working for three months in the Day court on official Spymaster business.

"Thank you, Az." his brother said earnestly, his violet eyes piercing the shadowsinger and he smiled tight lipped and nodded. "The mission took longer than I had an anticipated for it to take, especially for someone with your expertise. Was anything holding you back, brother? Or was it just that difficult?" he probed, genuinely curious.

Azriel's eyes flashed in remembrance, for a split second, before returning to the soft gaze he kept for his family.

"I guess it was just that difficult..." he said, trailing off.

"Are you sure?" Feyre asked him, a calculating yet concealed gaze covering her face. He did nothing but nod and the High Lady nodded in return, satisfied.

For months thereafter, Azriel found that his dreams were taken over with memories of his time spent in the day court.

His time spent with you.

Flashes of concealed and hushed laughter in aisles of the library. Flashes of pure, unbridled joy at the sight of whipped cream on your nose. Flashes of the feeling of sand and the roar of the ocean. Flashes of stolen kisses, poetry sonnets, and hidden secrets. Flashes of everything good in the world surrounded you. He would have stayed with you forever, if he could have.

Then came the bad. Memories of having to leave you rose in his nightmares. The feeling of anger, despite neither of you doing anything wrong. The swirl of his shadows singing reassurance in his ears as he slept next to you that night. The taste of your salty tears streaming down your cheeks as you kissed him for the final time. The roar of air against his wings as he forced himself to fly back home.

The act of sleeping became a battle.

___

A year passes by, his dreams and nightmares of you ebbing away giving rise to blank sleeps. He's doing his best to move forward, and prays that you are doing the same.

"I WIN!" Cassian's voice cuts through his thoughts, pulling him to reality as he realizes he's been pinned to the ground by his brother.

"You wish," he muttered as he kneed his brother in the gut, using his surprise to his advantage as he pins Cassian down, winning.

"Oh whatever," Cassian grumbles as he pushes Az off, wiping dirt off his leathers as he grins at his brother.

"Again?" Azriel rolled his eyes, but got into a fighting stance regardless.

Suddenly, Rhysand's voice echoed through their heads, "Cassian, Azriel, come to the River House. We have a special guest."

Cassian furrowed his eyebrows.

"Any idea?" he asked Azriel. Azriel looked to his shadows for answers, but all they did was vibrate in excitement and swirled around him - seemingly to excited to speak.

"No clue," he said earnestly. Cassian's brows furrowed further, before clearing.

"I guess we'll find out, race you there?" he said, already taking flight. Azriel grinned and nodded, shooting up into the air with one powerful flap.

____

He landed on the balcony of the River House moments before Cassian, who slapped him upside the head when he landed.

"How did you beat me?" he muttered, before straightening his gaze towards Rhysand and Feyre who were inside, greeting their new guest. He peeks his head through the door - trying to sneakily see who this special guest was - , and his cover was immediately blown by the ever-observant Feyre.

"Oh yes, (Y/N). Meet Cassian, the general of the night court."

Azriel freezes.

(Y/N)?

His (Y/N)?

He heaves forward, the brunt of his memories piercing through him. Everything he's suppressed comes rushing back to him, and he's overtaken with emotion.

Without a second thought, he bursts through the doors - extremely unlike the sly and secret nature he kept.

"Azriel, are you okay?" someone asked him, worriedly. He didn't answer them, all his attention was on you.

You falter in your words, eyes darting towards him for a split second before returning to Cassian. Before he could mourn the loss of your gaze, you turn towards him again - pain and longing in your eyes.

"Azriel," you breathed out, eyes flashing with emotion as you took him in. He'd gotten prettier since you'd last seen him, even more breathtaking than before.

"Do you two know each other?" Rhysand asks, glancing between the two of you.

"Yes," you both said at the same time, unable to break gazes with one another.

"Well," Feyre started, and you snapped your head back to her - sense overtaking you as you remember where you were and what you were doing. "I'm sure Az can answer any questions you have,". He can't find it in himself to do anything but smile and nod.

"Well, I do have one question." you said, giving him a small smile. You stepped forward towards him, your scent of the ocean air taking over his senses.

"Do you miss us?"

[callsigns-haze]

-ˋˏ The week it all went south ˎˊ-

Part 4

Part 1 here Part 2 here Part 3 here

Pairing: Azriel x Rhysand's sister!reader

Azriel has the perfect life. You as his wife. Kaia as his daughter. But him and the boys are stupid enough to challenge you for a week and then his perfect life might simply...disappear

Warning: ANGST, mentions of past lovers, mentions of sex, cursing, kissing, mentions of injured child, drinking, mentions of character death (nobody is dead though they just mention it), throwing up, Az being an ass and MC being a badass mama, kidnapping, mentions of physical force against characters, mentions of bleeding.

Word count: 13.9k

As you stepped into the freezing wind, snow immediately began to cling to your coat and hair, but you didn’t care. You were determined, your steps purposeful as you marched into the storm. The icy air burned your lungs, but it didn’t slow you.

Behind you, the sound of hurried footsteps crunching through the snow broke through the howling wind.

“YN, wait!” Azriel’s voice rang out, desperate and strained.

You ignored him, your jaw clenched as you pushed forward.

“YN, stop!” Rhysand called, his tone sharper, but still layered with concern.

You felt the flicker of his magic against your mind, a gentle attempt to tether you, but you shoved it away with all the force of your fury. “Don’t you dare!” you shouted over your shoulder. “If you’re going to stop me, do it outright! Don’t use your tricks on me, Rhysand.”

Azriel’s wings flared behind you as he caught up, his breath visible in the frigid air. He grabbed your arm, not forcefully, but enough to make you stop. “YN, please,” he begged, his eyes pleading. “You don’t have to do this alone. Let us come with you.”

You wrenched your arm free, glaring at him. “You had your chance to help, Azriel. Now stay out of my way.”

Rhysand appeared at your other side, his face pale and drawn. “You’re not going out there alone, YN. That’s not happening. You can hate us all you want, but we’re coming with you.”

Your fury wavered for just a moment as you saw the raw fear in both of their expressions, but you shoved it down. “Fine,” you snapped. “But keep up, or I’ll leave you behind.”

Azriel exchanged a look with Rhysand, a silent conversation passing between them, before they both nodded.

The three of you pressed on into the storm, the snow whipping around you in fierce gusts. Azriel’s shadows darted out ahead, scouting through the white expanse, while Rhysand kept his magic spread wide, searching for any sign of Kaia.

The storm was relentless, the wind screaming through the trees as snow lashed against your face. Your boots crunched through the deep drifts, the icy chill seeping through your coat, but you didn’t care. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes darted desperately over the landscape.

“Kaia!” you called, your voice raw and hoarse. The wind carried it away almost as soon as the words left your lips, but you didn’t stop. “Kaia!”

Azriel’s shadows darted around you, slithering across the snow and disappearing into the storm. He kept close, his eyes scanning the ground, his wings tucked tightly against his back to shield him from the biting cold. Every now and then, he would whisper her name, his voice trembling with fear and guilt.

Rhysand was on your other side, his magic rippling outward in a steady pulse. He moved with purpose, though his face was pale and his lips pressed into a thin line. Occasionally, he would glance at you, concern flickering in his violet eyes, but he didn’t say anything.

You reached a clearing, the snow shallower here but no less treacherous. The wind swirled violently, and you paused for a moment, your breath heaving as you tried to decide where to go next. “She’s close,” you whispered to yourself, clutching the bond between you and Azriel like a lifeline. “She has to be.”

Azriel stepped forward, his shadows coiling around him protectively. “YN,” he began softly, but you cut him off.

“No,” you snapped, your voice shaking. “Don’t try to stop me. Don’t tell me to rest or wait or anything else.” You gestured toward the storm. “She’s out there, Azriel. Alone. Scared. I won’t stop until I find her.”

His jaw tightened, but he nodded, stepping back to let you lead.

You moved forward again, your eyes scanning every snowdrift, every shadow. You strained to listen past the roar of the wind, praying for some sound—anything—to guide you.

“Kaia!” Rhysand called, his voice strong despite the storm. “It’s Uncle Rhys! Sweetheart, we’re here! Call out for us!”

Nothing but the howl of the wind answered.

You stumbled over a hidden root, catching yourself against a tree, and for a moment, you let out a choked sob. But you couldn’t give in to despair. Gritting your teeth, you pushed forward, your fingers brushing against the rough bark of the trees as you searched.

As you climbed a small hill, your foot caught on something beneath the snow. You crouched down, frantically brushing it away, only to find a small toy—a teddy Kaia had been clutching earlier.

“She was here,” you whispered, your heart lurching. “She was here.”

Azriel was at your side in an instant, his hands steadying you as he looked down at the toy. His face crumpled, and he pressed his lips together tightly. “She can’t be far,” he said, his voice low but determined.

Rhysand placed a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm. “We’ll find her, YN,” he said, though the worry in his eyes was impossible to miss. “We won’t stop.”

You nodded, clutching the toy tightly in your hand as you pressed on, calling her name into the endless storm.

The hours dragged on, each step feeling heavier than the last. The storm seemed to grow more violent with every passing minute, the snow swirling around you like an endless sea of white. Your breath came in ragged gasps as you called out for Kaia, your voice strained and hoarse, but the only answer was the howl of the wind.

Your heart ached with every inch you covered, your mind racing with worry and guilt. Each snow-covered tree, every shadow, every crevice was scrutinized, but there was no sign of her. Nothing.

You could feel the chill settling deep in your bones, the cold seeping past your layers and gnawing at you. You were freezing, numb, but you didn’t care. You couldn’t stop. Not when your daughter was out there, somewhere in this cruel storm.

Azriel’s shadows had been everywhere, searching in places the eye could not, but there was still no sign of Kaia. His voice was almost lost to the wind, but you could still hear him calling her name, his tone strained with worry.

Rhysand, though his eyes were filled with sorrow, didn’t stop either. He was using his magic to try and sense her, but it was futile against the wild winds and the snow that blocked everything from his view. His power pulsed with growing desperation, but it wasn’t enough.

Cassian had been beside you the entire time ever since he flew back from day, his wings tucked to shield him from the worst of the storm, his face lined with frustration. Even he, usually so strong and unshaken, was showing signs of wear. His eyes flicked over every inch of snow, every shadow, every movement, but it was the same. Nothing.

After three hours of searching, your body was exhausted, your movements sluggish, and the hope you clung to was beginning to feel more like a fading dream. You wanted to scream, to tear at the sky for its cruelty, but you just... couldn't anymore.

Finally, Rhysand’s voice broke through your fog of determination. “YN, we have to go back. It’s too dangerous to keep going.” His hand on your arm was gentle but firm. “You’re too cold. You need to rest.”

You shook your head violently, refusing to give in. “No. I can’t. I won’t stop until I find her.”

Cassian’s voice was softer now, but there was a firmness to it. “You’re not helping her if you freeze, YN. You know that.”

Azriel stood behind you, his face grim. “We’ll keep searching, YN. But we need to go back for now. We need to regroup, to think this through. This storm... it’s too much.”

The words pierced through you, but you didn’t want to admit they were right. Your body screamed for rest, but your heart wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop.

Yet, when you saw the concern in their eyes, the worry in their voices, something inside you broke. You were too tired to fight anymore, to push through the storm. With a final glance at the empty, snow-covered landscape, you gave in.

They led you back to the cabin, your steps slow and heavy as you let them guide you. Your mind was numb with the weight of everything, your heart still aching with the fear of what might happen if Kaia wasn’t found soon.

As you stepped inside, the warmth of the cabin hit you like a wave, but it did nothing to ease the coldness in your chest. Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian exchanged a glance, their faces drawn with exhaustion and worry. They had been as close to losing their resolve as you had been.

Azriel stepped toward you, his voice low. “We’ll find her, YN. We will.”

You nodded, though you didn’t believe it. It was hard to. With every minute that passed, the chance of finding her seemed more and more impossible. But as you sank into the warmth of the cabin, you closed your eyes, too exhausted to think, to fight.

For the first time in hours, you allowed yourself to slip into the fragile embrace of sleep, praying that when you woke, Kaia would be safe in your arms again.

-----

Kaia shivered, her small form trembling in the dim, cramped space beneath the desk. The cold air scraped at her skin as she tried to curl into herself, her wings aching with every movement. The hooded figure, whose presence loomed over her like a dark cloud, grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, yanking her out of her fragile hiding spot.

"You're going to be worth a lot, little one," the figure croaked, the voice raspy and laced with malice. "Those wings of yours will fetch a great price."

Kaia whimpered, her tiny hands reaching for the figure’s cloak, her mind fuzzy with confusion and fear. "Mama... dada... wanna go home," she muttered, her words slurred in her toddler speech as she struggled to free herself. The desperation in her voice was clear, but the figure’s grip on her was unrelenting.

The cold fingers wrapped around her wings next, pulling at them sharply. The pain sent a cry bubbling up from her throat, but the figure paid it no mind. “So fragile,” they sneered, tugging harder. “You’ll be worth a fortune once I’m done with you."

Kaia’s sobs echoed through the small, dark room as the figure dragged her, completely unaware of the devastation they were about to unleash. "Mama... please," she cried, reaching out for someone—anyone. But there was no one to hear her.

The figure grinned under the hood, their fingers twisting in her wings again, causing Kaia to flinch, her face scrunching up in pain. “They’ll pay so much for these,” the figure muttered, focused entirely on their cruel intentions.

Kaia could barely hold back the tears, her small body shaking as the cold pressed against her skin. "Dada..." she whimpered again, trying to curl into herself, her wings twitching with pain as they were handled so roughly. "I wanna go home..."

But there was no home in this moment. Only the cruel grip of the figure, and the darkness closing in on her.

-----

The grand meeting room of the Day Court was bathed in sunlight, golden rays streaming through the tall arched windows. The High Lords sat around the gleaming marble table, each adorned in the symbols of their respective courts. Despite the grandeur of the setting, the tension in the room was palpable, an undercurrent of unease rippling through the air.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table, his usual calm demeanour stretched thin. His violet eyes were shadowed with exhaustion, his jaw set tight as he addressed the gathering. Cassian stood to his right, his massive frame tense, and his hazel eyes filled with barely restrained fury. Morrigan stood to Rhysand’s left, her golden hair gleaming in the sunlight, her expression a mix of worry and resolve.

Helion, seated closest to Rhysand, leaned forward, his sharp gaze flicking between the others as he clasped his hands. Thesan’s calm, analytical expression did little to hide the concern in his soft eyes. Tarquin sat upright, his brow furrowed in quiet contemplation, while Kallias and Viviane exchanged uneasy glances. Tamlin’s expression was unreadable, though his presence alone carried the weight of tension from years of strained alliances. And Eris, with his trademark smirk, lounged lazily in his chair, a mocking gleam in his amber eyes.

“I appreciate you all coming on such short notice,” Rhysand began, his voice low but carrying the weight of authority. “I wouldn’t have called this meeting unless it was of the utmost importance.”

Eris raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “No Azriel here to lurk in the shadows? And where’s your sister, Rhysand? Surely, the infamous beauty wouldn’t miss a meeting like this.”

Cassian’s fist slammed onto the table with enough force to rattle the glasses of water set before them. The room fell silent as every gaze turned to him. His hazel eyes blazed with fury as he leaned toward Eris, his voice a dangerous growl. “Watch your mouth, Vanserra.”

Eris merely chuckled, unfazed. “Touchy, aren’t we? I was only asking.”

Rhysand lifted a hand to silence Cassian, though his gaze was a razor-sharp warning to Eris. “They aren’t here because they are both dealing with something far more important. My niece—Azriel and my sister’s daughter—has gone missing.”

The smirk dropped from Eris’s face instantly. The room grew heavy with shock as Rhysand continued, his voice breaking slightly, though he masked it with a carefully controlled tone. “She disappeared in the Illyrian forests. Given the terrain, the weather, and the search efforts already made, it’s clear she is no longer there. That leaves us with the terrifying possibility that she could be anywhere—any court. She’s two years old, defenceless, and vulnerable.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Even Eris’s usual mockery was absent as he processed the gravity of the situation. Tarquin’s blue eyes widened in alarm, and Kallias’s hands clenched the arms of his chair. Helion’s golden eyes darkened with uncharacteristic solemnity, while Thesan leaned forward, his voice soft but firm.

“Rhysand, you have our full cooperation,” Thesan said. “Anything we can do to aid in finding her, we will do without hesitation.”

Viviane nodded in agreement. “Anything. Just tell us where to start.”

Tarquin placed a hand on the table, his expression grim. “I’ll have my soldiers begin searching the coastline immediately.”

Helion spoke next, his voice rich and serious. “I’ve already informed my spies to keep their eyes and ears open. If she’s anywhere in the Day Court, we’ll find her.”

Tamlin, who had remained silent, finally spoke, his deep voice steady. “The Spring Court will join the search. No child should ever be taken like this.”

Eris’s tone was unusually sombre as he added, “The Autumn Court will assist as well. If she’s crossed into my territory, I’ll know.”

Rhysand inclined his head, his voice heavy with gratitude. “Thank you. She means everything to us—everything to her parents. Time is of the essence. If anyone hears anything, no matter how small, inform me immediately.”

The meeting shifted into focused strategizing, the High Lords leaning forward as they poured over the possibilities. A map of Prythian was unrolled across the table, detailing borders, territories, and the regions closest to the Illyrian wilderness where Kaia had gone missing. Rhysand tapped a finger against the eastern forests, his violet eyes scanning the map with methodical precision.

“She couldn’t have wandered far on her own. Someone took her,” Rhys began, his voice sharp and unyielding. “It’s not a question of if, but who.”

Helion leaned forward, his golden robes catching the light as he studied the map. “The borders between the Day Court and the Night Court are vast, with countless unpatrolled areas. If the culprit is clever, they could easily slip through undetected. But transporting a child—especially one as unique as Kaia—will leave a trail. Someone must have seen something.”

Thesan nodded, his brow furrowed. “I’ll send word to my sentinels to question travellers passing through. If anyone saw a figure with a child, we’ll know. They’ll be watching the skies for anyone attempting to fly, as well.”

Tarquin gestured to the southern coastline on the map. “If they’ve headed toward the sea, my ships will intercept them. No one leaves my waters without my permission. I’ll send my fastest messengers to my fleet commanders.”

Kallias traced a gloved finger along the northern borders of his court, his icy blue eyes narrowing. “If they’re heading north, the frigid weather will slow them down, but it also means Kaia is at greater risk. Viviane and I will deploy scouts to comb through the areas closest to our border with Autumn.”

Eris’s amber eyes lingered on the section of the map marking his court. “If they’ve crossed into Autumn, I’ll know. My patrols are ruthless, and no one enters my forests without me hearing about it. But this wasn’t random.” He leaned back in his chair, his tone calculating. “Whoever took her must have known what they were doing. She wasn’t just stolen by accident—they had a plan.”

Cassian growled low in his throat, his wings flexing as he loomed over the table. “Whoever they are, they’ll wish they never laid eyes on her.”

Rhysand shot him a look, silencing him with a subtle gesture. “He’s right, though. This wasn’t a random act. Kaia’s unique heritage makes her a target. She’s an Illyrian child with the blood of a High Lord running through her veins—there’s power in that, even if she’s still too young to wield it.”

Viviane’s voice was soft but steady. “Do you think it could be someone targeting your family specifically? Perhaps someone from the Illyrian war camps?”

Rhys’s jaw tightened, his voice cold. “If that’s the case, they’ll regret it. But we can’t rule out other courts—or even forces outside Prythian. We’ve made enemies over the centuries.”

Helion drummed his fingers on the table, his expression thoughtful. “You’ve been at peace with Hybern’s remnants since the war ended, but there are always factions that resist. Rebels who would see chaos sown by taking someone as valuable as Kaia.”

Tamlin, who had remained quiet until now, finally spoke. “Have you considered the possibility that this could be the work of fae traffickers? Children like her would fetch a high price in certain circles—especially with her wings.”

Cassian’s fist clenched, and the table creaked ominously. Rhysand’s face darkened, his power swirling faintly around him. “We’ll explore every possibility. No matter who it is, no matter where they’ve taken her, we’ll find her.”

Morrigan’s voice cut through the tension, clear and resolute. “I’ll winnow to Velaris and send out more of our spies. If anyone hears even a whisper of where she might be, we’ll know.”

Thesan tilted his head, his calm demeanour masking a sharp intellect. “If this is organized, they may already be moving her between locations. We need to act fast and be ready to strike as soon as we have any lead.”

Rhysand nodded, his eyes blazing with determination. “I need all of you to coordinate with your courts and keep your networks on high alert. We don’t rest until Kaia is home. Whatever resources you need, I’ll provide.”

The High Lords murmured their agreements, each of them committing their forces to the search. As they continued analysing the map, discussing potential routes and weak points in the borders, the storm outside the Day Court raged on, mirroring the fury and fear driving the meeting within.

-----

The silence of the house felt deafening, an unnatural stillness that made every creak of the floorboards and sigh of the wind outside seem louder. You sat on the floor of Kaia’s room, surrounded by the small, delicate reminders of her—the tiny bed with its soft blankets, the colourful stack of books she loved to make you read again and again, the wooden blocks still scattered from the last time she played. The faint scent of her still lingered, sweet and innocent, like lavender and the fresh breeze she always brought with her.

In your trembling hands was her favourite teddy, the one Azriel had given her when she was barely a few days old. The well-worn plush was soft from constant hugs and carried the faintest trace of her baby powder and warmth. You clutched it to your chest like it was your lifeline, your body shaking with silent, heaving sobs that wracked your frame.

You didn’t even try to muffle them anymore. The walls had already heard your grief for days now, and the house had absorbed the weight of your despair like a sponge. Your tears soaked into the teddy’s fur as your fingers curled tightly around it, desperate for something—anything—that could bridge the widening void in your chest.

"Kaia," you whispered brokenly, your voice cracking as fresh tears streamed down your face. The sound of her name was both a balm and a dagger. "Oh, my baby... where are you?"

You couldn’t stop the flood of memories that rushed in—her tiny laugh as she chased after bubbles in the garden, the way she’d reach her arms up to you and call for “Mama” in her sweet, high-pitched voice, the warmth of her little hands tugging at your hair. You pressed the teddy closer to your face, inhaling deeply as though you could still capture some remnant of her presence.

Azriel’s absence weighed heavily, too. He was out searching again, and you knew he wouldn’t stop until he dropped from exhaustion. But even his unyielding determination hadn’t been enough to bring her back. You felt the bond between you two faintly, muted by his distance, and you knew he was feeling the same crushing guilt, the same helplessness that had been suffocating you for two weeks.

A knock on the door broke through the haze of your grief, soft and hesitant. You didn’t even bother to look up as it creaked open, revealing Rhysand. His usual composure was gone, replaced by a raw, haunted expression that mirrored your own.

He hesitated for a moment, as though unsure if he should intrude, but then he crossed the room and knelt beside you. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him. You didn’t resist.

"I’m so sorry," he murmured, his voice thick with his own sorrow. "I—if I could take all this pain away, I would. If I could trade places with her, I—"

"Stop," you croaked, cutting him off. Your voice was barely a whisper. "Just... stop. This isn’t your fault."

But it felt like everyone’s fault. Yours for not being there. His for not protecting her. Azriel’s for trusting anyone else to care for her. The guilt swirled endlessly, eating away at all of you.

"I don’t know how much more of this I can take," you admitted, burying your face in the teddy again. "It’s been two weeks, Rhys. Two weeks, and we’ve found nothing. Nothing!"

He tightened his hold on you, resting his chin atop your head. "We’ll find her," he said, but the words sounded hollow, even to him.

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Instead, you let your sobs consume you again, your grief pouring out into the small, empty room that no longer felt like the sanctuary it once was.

You took a shaky breath, wiping at your tear-streaked face with trembling fingers. The silence hung heavy between you and Rhys as the weight of your grief pressed down on your chest, suffocating. When you finally spoke, your voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper, but it carried years of buried pain.

“I feel... exactly like I did the night Mom and Kaia were killed, I knew I'd name my daughter after our sister straight away,” you choked out, gripping Kaia’s teddy so tightly it felt like the seams might burst. “That same... hollow, hopeless feeling. Like I’m stuck in a nightmare I can’t wake up from.”

Rhys stiffened beside you, his breath catching audibly in his throat. You knew he remembered that night as vividly as you did—he’d been there. He’d seen the blood, the chaos, the heartbreak. And he’d seen you, broken and battered, left wingless and shattered in ways no one could ever truly fix.

“Don’t,” he whispered, his voice strained, pleading. “Don’t go back there. Please.”

“I can’t help it,” you said, your voice cracking as fresh tears spilled down your cheeks. “This... this is the same, Rhys. That same crushing helplessness. The same... loss. I wasn’t enough to save them, and now I wasn’t enough to protect Kaia. My own daughter.”

“Stop it,” Rhys said firmly, his hands gripping your shoulders now, forcing you to look at him. His violet eyes were glassy, full of guilt and anguish, but they burned with a desperate determination. “Don’t do this to yourself. You didn’t fail Kaia. And you didn’t fail Mom or our sister. You fought for them. You fought harder than anyone could have asked.”

You shook your head, your voice trembling. “But I lost them anyway. I lost them, Rhys. And now it’s happening again. I don’t... I don’t know if I can survive this a second time. I can’t lose Kaia. I can’t.”

Rhys’s face crumpled at your words, his composure slipping as he pulled you into his arms, holding you as tightly as he could without hurting you. “You’re not going to lose her,” he said, his voice raw. “We’ll find her. We will. I promise you that.”

His words were meant to comfort, but they only made the ache in your chest worse. “You don’t know that,” you whispered, burying your face in his shoulder. “You can’t promise me that.”

He didn’t respond, because you were right. No one could promise anything anymore. But he held you anyway, his embrace a silent vow that he would do everything in his power to bring her back.

The sobs wracked your body before you could stop them, your chest heaving as you clung to Rhys. Your hands balled into fists, gripping the fabric of his tunic like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. Tears streamed down your face, hot and relentless, soaking into his shoulder as you buried your face against him.

“I can’t do this, Rhys,” you choked out between sobs. “I can’t. She’s just a baby—my baby. She must be so scared, so cold, and I’m just sitting here, doing nothing. I—”

Your words broke off into a guttural cry, your voice hoarse from days of screaming and sobbing. Rhys’s arms wrapped tighter around you, his hand smoothing over your hair in slow, calming strokes, but it did nothing to quell the storm raging inside you.

“You’re not doing nothing,” he murmured, his voice steady but thick with emotion. “You’re here. You’re fighting for her, even if it doesn’t feel like it. We’re going to find her.”

But his words felt hollow, and your sobs only grew louder, more desperate. “It’s been two weeks, Rhys! Two weeks! What if—what if she’s gone? What if I never see her again?”

“Don’t,” Rhys said sharply, pulling back just enough to cup your face in his hands. His violet eyes met yours, filled with both sorrow and determination. “Don’t let yourself go there. She’s out there, and we’re going to find her. We will. I swear it.”

You shook your head, fresh tears spilling over as you collapsed against him again, your body trembling with the weight of your grief. “I feel like I’ve already lost her,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “And I don’t know how to survive that, Rhys. I don’t.”

Rhys’s arms tightened around you, his own breath hitching as he rested his chin on top of your head. “You don’t have to do this alone,” he said softly. “You’ve got me, and Cass, and Feyre, and Az. We’re all in this together. And we’re not going to stop until she’s home.”

His words settled over you like a fragile thread of hope, barely enough to hold on to, but you clung to it anyway. Because you had to. Because the thought of Kaia out there, alone and afraid, was unbearable. And if hope was all you had left, you would hold on to it with everything you had.

Your body felt like it was shutting down, the weight of exhaustion finally overpowering the adrenaline and grief that had kept you awake for days. Your sobs slowed, your breathing evening out as Rhys's steady presence soothed you into a reluctant calm. Your head rested against his chest, your limbs growing heavier by the second, the emotional storm leaving you utterly drained.

“You need sleep,” Rhys murmured gently, his hand still stroking your hair. “You can’t keep going like this.”

You mumbled something incoherent, too tired to argue, too tired to do anything but let the weight pull you further into darkness. Rhys felt it—the way your body grew slack against him, the way your breaths deepened, the tension in your frame slowly unravelling.

Carefully, he shifted, sliding his arms under you and lifting you as if you weighed nothing. He carried you through the silent house, his footsteps soft and deliberate, not wanting to stir you even the slightest bit. The familiar scent of home surrounded you, but you didn’t stir as he pushed open the door to your and Azriel’s room.

The room was quiet, untouched since you’d last been there together. Rhys laid you down gently on the bed, his movements careful as if afraid you might shatter under his touch. He straightened the blankets around you, tucking them in snugly, and hesitated for a moment, his gaze falling on the teddy bear you had been clutching earlier.

Reaching over to the chair where he had set it, Rhys placed the soft, worn toy in your arms, arranging it so your fingers naturally curled around it. The sight of you holding it, even in sleep, made his chest ache.

Rhys stood there for a moment longer, watching you breathe. Your face, though tear-streaked and weary, had finally softened in the grasp of much-needed rest. “We’ll find her,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he said the words aloud, as much a promise to himself as to you.

With one last look, he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. For the first time in days, you slept, Kaia’s teddy tucked tightly in your arms, as Rhys carried the weight of your grief with him into the silence of the house.

-----

Azriel stood in the training room of the House of Wind, the silence only broken by the dull thud of his fists against the punching bag. His knuckles were raw, his movements relentless. Sweat dripped from his brow, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.

Two weeks. Two weeks of searching. Two weeks of nothing. No tracks, no scents, no shadows whispering a single clue about where his daughter had been taken. He was fraying at the seams—rage and despair warring within him, eating him alive. His mind was a loop of dark thoughts: I failed her. I failed my mate. I’ve failed everyone.

He hadn’t spoken to you in days. Not since you’d screamed at him, not since you told him how disappointed you were in him. The memory of your words was another blade twisting in his chest, a constant reminder of how deeply he had let you down. He deserved it.

The door to the training room creaked open, but Azriel didn’t stop. His fists connected with the bag again and again, the sound reverberating in the empty space.

“Az,” Cassian’s voice broke through, steady but cautious.

Azriel didn’t acknowledge him, his focus fixed on the bag, each punch harder than the last.

Cassian sighed, stepping closer. “Az, you’re going to tear your hands apart if you keep this up.”

“Good,” Azriel muttered darkly, his voice low and hoarse.

Cassian frowned, his wings shifting behind him. “You need to let it out. Really let it out. And beating that bag into dust isn’t going to help.”

Azriel paused for a moment, his hands falling to his sides as he panted, his shoulders heaving with every breath. He didn’t look at Cassian, his gaze fixed on the ground. “What do you want me to do, Cass? Sit here and pretend I’m not losing my mind? Pretend I’m not—” His voice cracked, and he shook his head.

“No one’s asking you to pretend,” Cassian said softly, stepping closer. “But this... This isn’t going to help you. You need to get it out. Properly.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his shadows curling tightly around him.

“Come on,” Cassian pressed, grabbing a pair of sparring swords from the rack and tossing one to him. Azriel caught it reflexively, glaring at his brother.

Cassian smirked faintly, a poor imitation of his usual grin. “Let it out on me. You look like you need to hit someone.”

Azriel stared at the sword in his hand, his grip tightening around the hilt. For a moment, he said nothing, but then he finally looked up, his hazel eyes burning with a mix of fury and anguish.

“Fine,” he growled, stepping onto the sparring mat.

Cassian mirrored him, adjusting his stance. “Good. Don’t think, just fight.”

Azriel’s first strike came hard and fast, the sound of steel clashing against steel echoing through the room. Cassian barely blocked it, grunting at the force.

“Damn, Az,” he muttered. “Not holding back at all, huh?”

“Don’t ask for it if you can’t take it,” Azriel snarled, his movements sharp and precise, his sword an extension of his rage.

Cassian met him blow for blow, the sparring turning into a brutal dance of strikes and parries. Azriel fought like a man possessed, every swing of his blade fuelled by the storm raging inside him.

“You’re angry. Good. Use it,” Cassian encouraged, his own movements growing faster to keep up with Azriel’s relentless assault.

“I’m not angry,” Azriel snapped, his voice raw. “I’m fucking—” His words broke off as he lunged forward, the clash of their swords sparking in the dim light.

“Furious. Heartbroken. Lost.” Cassian finished for him, blocking another strike. “I know, Az. I know.”

Azriel let out a guttural sound, a mix between a growl and a cry, as he pushed harder, his strikes wild yet calculated. Cassian absorbed the blows, giving as good as he got, but never aiming to truly hurt. This wasn’t about winning.

The sparring ended abruptly when Azriel dropped his sword, falling to his knees on the mat. His chest heaved, and his hands trembled as he stared at the ground, his shadows writhing chaotically around him.

Cassian crouched in front of him, placing a steady hand on his shoulder. He didn’t say anything, just stayed there, offering his silent support.

Azriel’s voice was barely above a whisper when he finally spoke. “I just want her back, Cass. I just want my daughter back.”

Cassian’s grip on his shoulder tightened. “We’ll find her, Az. I swear to you, we’ll find her.”

“Alright,” Cassian said, rising to his full height, his voice calm but firm. “Enough with the swords. You need to fight. Really fight. No weapons. Just fists.”

Azriel didn’t look up, his hands pressing into the mat as his breath came out in ragged gasps.

Cassian stepped closer, crossing his arms. “Az. Get up.”

Azriel slowly raised his head, his hazel eyes bloodshot and brimming with pain. “What’s the point?” he muttered, his voice hollow.

“The point,” Cassian said sharply, “is that you’re going to explode if you don’t let this out. And I’m not letting you fall apart. So, get up, brother. Hit me, like you always threaten me you will.”

Azriel stared at him for a long moment, the war within him playing out across his face. Then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he pushed himself to his feet. His movements were slow, his body heavy with exhaustion, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—a spark reignited by Cassian’s challenge.

“You want me to hit you?” Azriel asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Cassian spread his arms, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m asking you to stop holding back. Stop punishing yourself. Take it out on me instead, it's my fault anyway.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his shadows curling tighter around his body like a second skin. Without another word, he squared his stance, his hands curling into fists.

“Good,” Cassian said, stepping onto the mat and raising his fists. “No thinking, no holding back. Just fight.”

Azriel moved first, his fist cutting through the air like lightning. Cassian dodged, narrowly avoiding the punch, but Azriel followed up with a swift jab that connected with his shoulder.

“That’s it,” Cassian said, grinning despite the impact. “Come on, Az. You can do better than that.”

Azriel’s next swing was faster, harder. Cassian blocked it, countering with a punch of his own that Azriel deflected. The sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room, the fight turning into a brutal rhythm.

Each hit was a release—each swing a way for Azriel to vent the storm raging inside him. His movements were precise, controlled, but there was a ferocity behind them that Cassian had rarely seen.

“You think this is your fault?” Cassian growled as he dodged a hook. “You think you failed her?”

Azriel’s fist slammed into Cassian’s ribs, and he grunted, stumbling back. “I know I failed her,” Azriel snapped, his voice cracking.

“No, you didn’t!” Cassian shouted, stepping forward and landing a hit to Azriel’s side. “You’re her father, Az. You’ve done everything—everything—to find her! Me and Rhys lost her not you!”

“Not enough,” Azriel spat, his punches coming faster now. “It’s never enough. She’s out there, Cass. She’s out there, and I—”

Cassian ducked under a wild swing, grabbing Azriel’s arm and twisting it just enough to stop him without causing harm. “And we’re going to find her. But you killing yourself over this? That’s not going to help her.”

Azriel wrenched his arm free, shoving Cassian back. “What do you know?” he hissed, his voice raw with emotion. “You don’t know what it’s like to lose a child! You don't know how it feels to leave your precious little girl with the only two men you trust just so they could lose her!”

The words hung in the air like a heavy weight, and for a moment, neither of them moved.

Cassian’s expression softened, his hands dropping to his sides. “You’re right. I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child. But I know what it’s like to lose a brother. And I’m not losing you, Az. Not like this.”

Azriel’s fists trembled at his sides, his chest heaving as he struggled to hold himself together.

Cassian stepped closer, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re allowed to be angry. You’re allowed to break. But you don’t get to give up. Not on her. Not on yourself.”

Azriel’s shoulders sagged, the fight draining out of him as the weight of Cassian’s words settled over him. His knees buckled, and Cassian caught him before he could fall, holding him up with a steady grip.

“You’re not alone in this, Az,” Cassian said quietly, his voice steady. “We’ll find her. Together.”

Azriel didn’t respond, but the tension in his body slowly eased as he leaned into Cassian’s support, his head bowing as he let out a shuddering breath.

Cassian sat beside Azriel on the training room floor, his breathing still heavy from their fight. Azriel’s knuckles were raw, bloodied from the hits he’d thrown, and his face was a mix of exhaustion and despair. Cassian studied his brother for a moment before speaking, his voice quieter now, softer.

“Az,” Cassian began, his tone laced with both authority and care. “You need to go to her.”

Azriel didn’t move, didn’t even look at him. His hazel eyes stared blankly ahead, shadows still curling faintly around him. “She’s better off without me right now,” he muttered, his voice hollow. “I can’t… I can’t look her in the eye. Not after this.”

Cassian frowned, shaking his head. “You’re wrong.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t reply.

“Rhys told me,” Cassian continued, leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “He said she’s been crying nonstop. That she hasn’t slept, hasn’t eaten properly. She’s falling apart, Az. And you know what? She misses you.”

Azriel’s head dropped into his hands, his fingers gripping his hair as if trying to ground himself.

“She needs you, brother,” Cassian pressed, his voice firm but compassionate. “You think you’re the only one suffering here? She’s your mate. She’s feeling every ounce of your pain, your guilt, your anger. And she’s carrying it all on top of her own grief.”

Azriel’s breath hitched, his shoulders trembling slightly.

“You’re a team,” Cassian said, placing a heavy hand on Azriel’s shoulder. “And she loves you. More than anything. Don’t push her away because you’re drowning in your own guilt. Go to her, Az. Let her remind you why you’re fighting so damn hard.”

Azriel finally looked up, his bloodshot eyes meeting Cassian’s. “I don’t know what to say to her,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “How do I look at her and tell her I’ve failed her? That I’ve failed our daughter?”

Cassian squeezed his shoulder, his expression both understanding and unyielding. “You don’t have to have the answers, Az. Just be there. Hold her. Let her hold you. That’s all she needs right now.”

For a long moment, Azriel said nothing, the weight of Cassian’s words settling over him. Then, with a deep, shuddering breath, he nodded.

Cassian stood, holding out a hand to help Azriel up. “Go,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Before I have to drag your stubborn ass to her myself.”

Azriel managed a faint, humorless chuckle as he took Cassian’s hand and stood. “Thanks,” he muttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Cassian nodded, watching as Azriel made his way toward the door. As the shadowsinger disappeared from view, Cassian let out a long breath, hoping his brother would find the strength he needed in the arms of the one person who could truly ground him.

-----

Azriel winnowed directly into the quiet of the living room, the familiar scent of home hitting him like a blow to the chest. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room, but it was the figure hunched over the map table that immediately caught his attention.

Rhysand didn’t look up right away. His shoulders were tense, his hair dishevelled as he stared down at yet another map spread across the table, lines and markings indicating potential search areas. He looked as exhausted as Azriel felt—worn thin by the weight of guilt and desperation.

“I knew you’d show up eventually,” Rhys said without preamble, his voice heavy with fatigue.

Azriel didn’t respond, his jaw tightening as he stepped further into the room. His eyes flicked to the maps, the endless marks, and notes that Rhys had likely been pouring over for hours. The High Lord finally straightened, turning to face him.

“You’re a coward for staying away this long,” Rhys said bluntly, though there was no malice in his tone—just weariness. “But I guess you already know that.”

Azriel’s shadows coiled tighter around him, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Where is she?” he asked, his voice strained, almost hesitant.

Rhys sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I carried her to your room not long ago,” he said. “She finally passed out after days of crying and screaming herself hoarse. I’ve never seen her like that, Az. And I’ve never been so angry at you for not being here when she needed you most.”

Azriel flinched, the words hitting their mark. He didn’t try to defend himself. He couldn’t.

Rhys stepped closer, his violet eyes sharp and unforgiving. “You think you’ve failed her? You think you’ve failed Kaia? You’re not the only one carrying that guilt, brother. But staying away only made it worse. For her. For all of us.”

Azriel swallowed hard, his fists clenching at his sides. “I didn’t know how to face her,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Rhys softened slightly, though his expression remained stern. “You’re here now,” he said. “That’s what matters. Go to her, Azriel. She needs you.”

Azriel nodded stiffly, his shadows flickering as he turned toward the hallway leading to their room. Rhys watched him go, his own exhaustion etched deeply into his features. Once Azriel was out of sight, Rhys turned back to the maps, his jaw tightening as he resumed the relentless task of trying to bring his niece home.

Azriel stepped into the dimly lit bedroom, the familiar scent of lavender and you enveloping him like a long-lost comfort. His steps were slow, hesitant, as if the very air around him carried the weight of his guilt and exhaustion.

There you were, curled up on your side in the massive bed you once shared so easily. Now it felt like a chasm had opened between you. Your face was turned toward the door, cheeks streaked with dried tears, your lashes still damp. In your arms, you clutched one of Kaia’s favourite teddies, holding it as if it could somehow tether you to her.

The sight nearly broke him.

His heart clenched painfully as he took in how fragile you looked, how drained. It wasn’t just the sleepless nights; it was the ache of a mother separated from her child, compounded by the distance he had forced between you. He had done this—added to your suffering when he should have been your anchor.

Azriel approached slowly, careful not to wake you. His shadows coiled around him like silent sentries, sensing the heavy turmoil in his heart. He stopped at the edge of the bed, his gaze drinking in every detail of you. The way your fingers were knotted around the teddy, the way your breathing hitched slightly even in sleep, as though the pain lingered even in your dreams.

He sank down onto the mattress beside you, his hands trembling as he reached out but stopped short of touching you. He didn’t deserve to. Not after everything. But gods, he wanted to.

The soft glow of the bedside candle flickered, casting shadows across the room, and for a moment, he let himself imagine Kaia curled up in the bed with you, her tiny wings tucked in as she clutched that same teddy. The thought nearly undid him.

“I’m so sorry,” Azriel whispered, his voice hoarse and broken. The words were meant for you, for Kaia, for the version of himself he didn’t know how to forgive.

His head bowed, his hands gripping his knees as he sat there, keeping vigil by your side.

You stirred, groggy and disoriented, the remnants of an uneasy sleep clinging to you like a heavy fog. The dim light of the room filtered through your lashes as you blinked, trying to clear the haze from your mind. Your arms instinctively tightened around the soft teddy you had been clutching, the faintest trace of Kaia's scent still lingering on it, a bittersweet comfort.

As your eyes fluttered open fully, you felt the presence before you saw him. You turned your head slowly and froze when you saw Azriel sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed. His siphons caught the faint light, but it was the exhaustion etched into his face that stopped your breath.

“Azriel?” Your voice was a rasp, raw from days of crying and lack of sleep.

His head lifted at the sound of your voice, his hazel eyes locking onto yours. The weight of his guilt and anguish was unmistakable, almost unbearable to look at. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice trembling, barely audible.

You sat up slowly, the teddy still clutched in your lap, as the memories of the past weeks came rushing back. The empty space in your arms where Kaia should have been. The suffocating silence that had stretched between you and Azriel. The raw ache of hope slipping further from your grasp with every passing day.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, your voice sharper than you intended, though it carried the undertone of your pain.

“I had to see you,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “I couldn’t—” He stopped, his hands running through his hair as he struggled to find the words. “I know I’ve failed you. I’ve failed her. But I—”

“Stop,” you cut him off, your voice trembling as fresh tears pricked your eyes. “Don’t sit there and tell me things I already know, Azriel.”

The words came out harsher than you intended, but the dam holding back your emotions had cracked wide open. He flinched, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he clasped his hands together tightly, as if trying to hold himself together.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he finally said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix us.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence in the room as heavy as the grief you both carried. Then, slowly, you reached out, your hand brushing against his. His head snapped up at the touch, and you saw the raw vulnerability in his eyes.

“We can’t fix this,” you said softly, your voice thick with emotion. “Not until we find her. Until she’s home.”

Azriel nodded, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. “We will. I swear to you, we will.”

Azriel didn’t say anything else. Instead, he moved closer, closing the distance between you. Slowly, cautiously, as if he feared you’d push him away, he reached out and pulled you into his arms. His hands trembled slightly as they slid around your back, drawing you against his chest.

Your face pressed against the familiar curve of his shoulder, and you breathed in his scent—a mixture of shadows, cedar, and something uniquely him that had always made you feel safe. A fresh wave of tears welled in your eyes, spilling silently as you clung to him.

His wings unfolded, draping around you like a protective cocoon, shutting out the world beyond the two of you. The warmth they provided was immediate, a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you’d been feeling for weeks. His chin rested lightly on the top of your head, and for a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled only with the sound of your shaky breaths and his steady heartbeat.

“I’m so sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice cracking as his arms tightened around you. “For everything. For not being enough. For not protecting her. For letting you carry this alone.”

Your hands fisted in the fabric of his shirt as you buried your face deeper into his neck, your tears soaking into his skin. “Azriel,” you choked out, your voice muffled against him. “I can’t do this without her. I can’t.”

“You won’t have to,” he whispered fiercely, his wings pressing closer, holding you as if he could shield you from the unbearable pain. “I’ll bring her back. I’ll find her. I swear it, Y/N. I won’t stop until I do.”

His voice broke, and for the first time in weeks, you felt the weight of his own grief, his own torment, as he held you. You tightened your grip on him, the bond between you trembling but unyielding, even in the face of your shared despair.

For now, in the safety of his arms and the shelter of his wings, you let yourself believe, just for a moment, that maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.

Rhys’s knock on the door was sharp and purposeful, and you pulled back from Azriel with a soft sniffle as he gave you a moment’s space. Your eyes were still swollen from crying, and your throat ached with the weight of the grief you had been carrying for the past two weeks.

Azriel stood as you slowly wiped your face, his wings folding behind him, his jaw clenched tightly. Neither of you spoke as Rhys’s voice came through the door, his usual calmness tinged with urgency.

“Azriel, Y/N,” Rhys called from the other side. “Lucien and Eris have arrived. They have information. We need to talk.”

You looked at Azriel, his gaze steady but full of unresolved pain, before he nodded at you to stay close. Without a word, you followed him as he opened the door.

Lucien and Eris stood just beyond the threshold, their presence filling the room. Lucien’s amber eyes flicked to you briefly, but he quickly turned his attention to Azriel, who had stepped in front of you protectively, his posture rigid with barely contained tension.

“Azriel,” Lucien began, his voice low, “Eris has been tracking some unusual movement around the area. We believe there’s been some trafficking—human and other species—passing through. If Eris’s calculations are right, more might be coming through soon.”

Eris stood with his arms crossed, looking as unbothered as ever, though his golden eyes flickered with a seriousness that wasn’t typical for him. He didn’t speak, letting Lucien handle the exchange.

Azriel’s eyes narrowed. “Traffickers.” His voice was low, guttural, the word like a growl in his throat. “They could be the ones responsible.”

“They’re likely the ones who have Kaia,” Lucien added, his voice steady but carrying the weight of grim certainty. “There’s been some chatter about the wings, Azriel. We’ve heard whispers about a deal, something involving rare wings... and I suspect your daughter’s are of interest to them.”

A cold chill ran through your veins at the mention of Kaia’s wings. She was so young, so small. The thought of anyone wanting to exploit her, to harm her, made your stomach churn in a way that felt like it was splitting you apart.

Azriel’s face hardened into a mask of resolve, but his eyes betrayed the barely contained fury and anguish he was struggling with. “Where are they?” His voice was nearly a whisper, but the command was undeniable.

Eris finally spoke, his voice low but sharp. “The traffickers are known to have a base somewhere in the Autumn Court. We need to move quickly before they disperse again. If we’re too slow, we might lose them.”

Rhys stepped forward then, his hands resting on his hips as he addressed Azriel. “We need to act fast. We can’t let them slip through our fingers.”

You felt Azriel’s entire body tense, but it wasn’t just from the raw anger that coursed through him. He was terrified. You could feel it. Terrified of failing her again.

“We leave now,” Azriel finally said, his voice hard and unwavering. “Tell the courts to prepare. We’ll go immediately.”

Lucien and Eris nodded in sync, and though their faces were etched with grim determination, you could see the concern in their eyes for both of you.

Azriel reached for you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Stay close,” he murmured, his voice rough, like he had to force the words out. “We’ll get her back. I promise.”

You nodded, clenching your jaw as you fought the tears that still threatened to spill. You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so instead, you simply took his hand. The urgency of the situation loomed over all of you now, and there was no time for more words. You had to move, and you had to do it quickly.

Azriel gave you one last look before turning toward Lucien and Eris, his wings unfurling as they made their way to the front of the house. Rhys followed, his presence a constant weight of support at your back as you prepared to head into the unknown once more, your heart racing with a renewed sense of purpose.

This time, you weren’t going to let anything stop you from bringing your daughter home.

-----

Kaia sat curled up in the tiny cage beneath the desk, her small body trembling from both fear and the chill that had seeped into her bones. Her little wings were pressed uncomfortably against the bars, and her cheeks were streaked with tears as she whimpered softly, clutching at the tiny threadbare blanket the hooded figure had thrown at her earlier. It did little to keep her warm or comfort her.

“Dada,” she whispered, her tiny voice barely audible. “Mama… wanna go home…”

The hooded figure loomed nearby, rummaging through a chest filled with ominous-looking tools and trinkets. The room was dark and cramped, the faint light from a single lantern casting eerie shadows across the walls. The air smelled of damp wood and iron, making it hard for her to breathe without sobbing.

When her quiet whimpering grew louder, the figure spun around, their voice a sharp, angry rasp. “Didn’t I tell you to shut up?”

Kaia flinched, her tiny body jerking back against the cold metal bars of the cage. She sniffled, biting her trembling lip to try to stay quiet, but she couldn’t help the small, frightened hiccup that escaped.

The figure stormed over, grabbing the edge of the cage and shaking it roughly. “I said, shut up!” they snarled. Without warning, they reached in and grabbed one of her fragile wings, tugging it sharply. Kaia let out a high-pitched scream of pain, her sobs growing louder as she struggled against the hold.

“Hurts!” she cried, her words barely understandable through her sobs. “Hurts! No! Stop! Wanna go home! Dada, Mama, help!”

The hooded figure yanked harder, inspecting the delicate membrane of her wings as if assessing their value. “These’ll fetch me a fortune,” they muttered to themselves, ignoring her cries entirely. “Rare Illyrian wings like these... perfect for what I need.”

Kaia thrashed weakly, her small hands pushing at the bars of the cage as she tried to wriggle free. “No! Stop!” she wailed, her voice hoarse from screaming. “Dada, where are you? Mama, come get me!”

The figure shoved her back into the cage roughly, her head bumping against the bars as she collapsed into a heap of tears and cries. “Cry all you want,” they hissed. “No one’s coming for you.”

Kaia’s sobs turned into quiet, hiccupping whimpers as she curled into herself, clutching at her tiny blanket again. “Mama... Dada… pwease…” she murmured, her voice fading into tired whispers as exhaustion finally began to pull at her small body.

But even as her cries quieted, her tears continued to fall. She didn’t understand why her mama and dada weren’t there yet. She didn’t understand why this person was so mean. All she wanted was to be safe in her mama’s arms and feel her dada’s wings wrapped around her again.

-----

It had been three agonizing days since the High Lords' meeting, three days since Azriel had returned home to you, and three more days of utter silence about Kaia’s whereabouts. Every corner of the forests had been searched. The mountains, the rivers, the camps—nothing. No trace of Kaia. No whisper of the traffickers. No signs of hope.

You and Azriel had stayed in Velaris, though the weight of the empty nursery upstairs felt unbearable. The curtains remained drawn, casting shadows over the house, as though the absence of light could somehow ease the absence of your daughter. But it didn’t. Nothing did.

Azriel hadn’t spoken much over the last few days, his grief and guilt suffocating him like a heavy shroud. He spent hours pouring over maps, speaking in clipped tones to Rhys through their bond or sharpening his already pristine blades in the living room, the repetitive scrape of steel against whetstone filling the silence. He refused to eat unless you practically forced him to, and the sight of his haunted, hollow expression shattered you every time you looked at him.

You hadn’t fared much better. The raw ache in your chest only seemed to deepen with each passing day. Kaia’s laugh, her tiny feet pattering on the floor, her bright, curious eyes—those memories were an unbearable torment now. You clung to the tattered hope that she was still alive somewhere, waiting for you to find her. But the longer the search dragged on, the harder it became to keep that hope alive.

“Three days,” you whispered to yourself as you sat by the fire in the living room, clutching one of Kaia’s favourite blankets. It still smelled faintly of her, and you held it close, trying to ignore the sting of tears that blurred your vision. “Three days and nothing…”

Rhys sat across from you, his face drawn and pale. He had been orchestrating search parties day and night, rarely sleeping, barely eating. He looked older, wearier, as though the weight of his failures as High Lord—and as an uncle—was bearing down on him. “We’re not giving up,” he said softly, though his voice lacked its usual conviction. “We’ll keep looking. We’ll—”

“She could be anywhere!” you snapped, the grief in your voice turning sharp. “It’s been almost four weeks now, Rhys. Do you have any idea what could’ve happened to her in that time? She's out there because of you being a fool!” Your hands trembled as you clutched the blanket tighter. “She’s just a baby…”

Rhys flinched at your words but didn’t argue. He couldn’t. Azriel, who stood silently by the window, staring out at the city below, didn’t react either. His shoulders were rigid, his wings tucked tightly behind him as though he were holding himself together by sheer force of will.

Cassian burst through the front door, shaking snow off his boots. His face was grim, his eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “Still nothing,” he said, his voice rough. “The snowstorm last night erased any tracks. If they were moving her—”

“Stop,” Azriel said suddenly, his voice low and raw. He turned from the window, his hazel eyes blazing with grief and fury. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s alive. We’ll find her.”

Cassian nodded, but his expression gave away his doubt. “We’re doing everything we can, Az. But we need more—”

“We need her back,” Azriel interrupted, his voice breaking. He sank into a nearby chair, running a hand through his hair. “Every day we don’t find her… I—”

You moved to his side, kneeling beside him as tears slid silently down your cheeks. “We’ll find her,” you whispered, though your voice wavered. You had to believe it, even if it felt like the words were losing their meaning.

-----

The air in the Autumn Court woods was sharp and biting, the trees looming tall and ancient, their bare branches reaching out like skeletal hands. Snow crunched beneath heavy boots as Eris led the search party, his face set in a mask of determination. Beside him, Lucien walked silently, his single russet eye scanning the dense forest with precision, the other hidden behind a leather patch.

Around them, Eris's twelve shadow hounds prowled the perimeter, their sleek black forms blending almost seamlessly with the darkened undergrowth. The hounds moved with eerie grace, their noses low to the ground, sniffing for any trace of the traffickers or the missing child.

Eris broke the silence first, his tone clipped but not unkind. "We’re wasting daylight. If they moved through here, it would’ve been under cover of night, and the snowstorm two days ago would’ve wiped out any tracks.”

Lucien tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword, his jaw clenching. “The traffickers don’t care about the weather. If they’re desperate enough, they’d push through.” His voice was steady, but there was an undercurrent of anger in it—a simmering rage that had been building since the meeting with the High Lords.

One of the shadow hounds let out a low growl, its head snapping toward a cluster of dense brush. The other hounds froze in unison, their ears perking up, noses twitching as they picked up something—something faint but unmistakable.

Eris raised a hand, signalling the guards to stop. “What is it?” he murmured, his sharp golden eyes narrowing as he followed the hounds’ movements.

The largest of the hounds, a beast nearly the size of a horse, nosed its way into the brush, its growl deepening. A moment later, it emerged, carrying a torn scrap of cloth in its powerful jaws. The fabric was small, delicate, and unmistakably child-sized. Eris’s breath hitched, and he took the scrap from the hound, holding it up for Lucien to see.

Lucien’s face darkened. “That’s from Velaris,” he said grimly. “One of hers.”

Eris’s lips pressed into a thin line as he handed the cloth to one of the guards. “Send this to Rhysand immediately. He’ll want to confirm it.”

The guard nodded and disappeared into the trees, his magic crackling faintly as he prepared to winnow. Eris turned back to Lucien, his voice low. “If this is hers, then they were here recently. The hounds wouldn’t have picked up the scent otherwise.”

Lucien nodded, his fingers twitching at his sides as though itching to draw his blade. “We press on. If we’re close, we can’t afford to stop now.”

Eris didn’t argue. He whistled sharply, and the shadow hounds took off again, their forms disappearing into the forest like living shadows. The guards followed closely behind, their weapons drawn and senses on high alert.

The woods grew darker as they pressed deeper, the canopy overhead blocking out what little light filtered through the overcast sky. The air felt colder here, heavier, as though the forest itself held its breath.

Lucien glanced at Eris, his voice tense. “If we find her—when we find her—what do you plan to do to the bastards who took her?”

Eris’s golden eyes glinted dangerously in the dim light. “They’ll wish they’d never been born.” His tone was calm, but the promise of violence in his words was unmistakable.

Lucien didn’t respond, but a flicker of satisfaction crossed his face.

He didn't know if this was due to respect that Eris has gained as High Lord or that his brother still has feelings for you.

They moved in silence after that, the only sounds the crunch of snow beneath their feet and the occasional growl of the hounds.

If the traffickers were still in these woods, they wouldn’t remain hidden for long.

-----

The cloaked figure loomed over the tiny cage, their form illuminated by the dim, flickering light of a single lantern. Kaia whimpered, clutching her small arms around her trembling body as the figure’s gnarled, scaly fingers reached for the latch. Their breathing was laboured and raspy, a sinister sound that filled the cramped, decrepit house wagon.

The latch clicked open with a sharp metallic sound, and the figure reached in, grabbing Kaia roughly by her wings. She let out a high-pitched squeal of pain, her tiny voice trembling with fear.

“Stop... hurts! Wan’ Mama, Dada!” Kaia sobbed, kicking her little legs as the figure dragged her out of the cage and plopped her onto a rickety wooden table.

The cloaked figure threw back their hood, revealing a nearly bald head with a few wisps of grey, brittle hair clinging to a sickly, patchy scalp. Their face was gaunt and sallow, their eyes beady and sunken into their face, glinting with malice. Scales mottled their skin, covering their twisted fingers as they moved with eerie precision.

“Quiet,” the figure hissed in a voice as dry and brittle as their appearance. They shoved Kaia down, pinning her small body against the cold surface of the table. “Squirm all you want. It won’t save you.”

Kaia’s sobs turned into wails as she thrashed weakly beneath the figure’s grip, her toddler instincts kicking in to escape. “No, no, no!” she cried, her baby words muddled with desperate hiccups. “Mama... Dada... scared! Wanna go home!”

The figure ignored her, their movements methodical as they pulled out a wickedly sharp blade, its serrated edge catching the faint lantern light. They muttered to themselves, their cracked lips curling into something like a grin. “These will fetch a fine price... such pristine, little wings. Rare, so rare.”

Kaia’s little chest heaved as she tried to wriggle free, her wings twitching painfully under the figure’s iron grip. Her cries grew louder, her baby voice desperate. “No! No cut! Dada save Kaia! Dada!”

The figure snorted, mocking her cries. “Your Dada isn’t coming, child. No one’s coming for you.”

They raised the blade, its cruel edge poised over the base of one delicate wing. Kaia screamed, her tiny hands reaching out as if grasping for the parents she desperately wished were there. “Mama! Dada! Rhysie!”

The blade began to descend, and Kaia’s sobs filled the air, piercing and heart-wrenching, her tiny voice begging, pleading in her toddler way for someone to save her.

-----

Eris and Lucien moved swiftly through the dense forest, their sharp senses on high alert. The shadow hounds sniffed and growled, leading them deeper into the woods. The faint scent of blood and decay lingered in the air, setting their nerves on edge.

Ahead, a decrepit wagon house stood crookedly on the forest floor, its wooden exterior rotting and overgrown with moss. Smoke wafted lazily from a broken chimney, and a faint light flickered through the cracked windows. Eris raised a hand to halt the group, his eyes narrowing.

"Something's off," Lucien murmured, his gaze flicking to the hounds, which were growling lowly, their hackles raised. "It reeks of foul magic."

Without hesitation, Eris strode forward and pounded on the warped wooden door, the force of his knock making the entire structure shake. "Open up!" he barked, his voice carrying the authority of a High Lord’s heir.

There was a rustling sound inside, followed by hurried footsteps. A few tense moments passed before the door creaked open slightly, revealing a hunched figure with a weathered face and wild eyes. The witch’s tangled hair hung in greasy strands, and her bony fingers clutched the edge of the door like claws.

"What do you want?" she croaked, her voice sharp and defensive. "I’ve done nothing to warrant a visit from you prissy princelings."

Eris stepped closer, his golden eyes blazing. "We’re searching for someone—a child, my old friends child actually. Have you seen anything unusual around here?"

The witch’s eyes darted to the side for the briefest moment before she sneered. "What would I want with a child? I live alone. Nothing here but me and my potions." She moved to close the door, but Lucien caught it with a gloved hand.

"Mind if we take a look around?" Lucien asked, his tone deceptively calm but his posture tense. "You wouldn’t want us to think you’re hiding something."

The witch’s lips curled back, revealing yellowed teeth. "I don’t answer to you. Be gone!" Shutting the door.

Inside the wagon, Kaia’s heart raced as she struggled against the rough ropes binding her tiny hands. Tears streamed down her cheeks as she whimpered softly, the gag in her mouth muffling her cries. The witch stormed back toward her, muttering curses under her breath. She snatched Kaia up roughly, her bony hands tugging at the ropes around the toddler’s wings.

“Quiet, brat,” she hissed, shoving Kaia into the cramped cage beneath the table. Kaia’s wings scraped against the cold metal bars as the witch yanked a heavy cloth over the cage, concealing it from view.

The witch spun around, her expression twisted with irritation as she returned to the door. "See? Nothing here but an old woman trying to mind her business. Now get out before I curse your fancy boots!"

Lucien glanced over her shoulder, his mechanical eye whirring as it scanned the dim interior. Eris’s jaw tightened, his instincts screaming that something was wrong. He gestured to the guards to spread out and inspect the area around the wagon.

“Perhaps we’ll stay a little longer,” Eris said, his tone cold and unyielding. "Just in case."

The witch’s eyes widened briefly before narrowing into slits. "You’ve got no right!" she spat, trying to slam the door shut, but Lucien shoved it open. The witch hissed.

Lucien’s patience snapped as the witch tried to block his path. “Enough of this,” he growled, his voice like a blade slicing through the tension. He grabbed the witch by her bony arm, ignoring her screeches and protests, and yanked her out of the wagon with startling force. She stumbled onto the ground, her tattered cloak flying behind her.

"Stay there," Lucien ordered, his mechanical eye glowing as he fixed her with a sharp glare. The witch glared back, her mouth opening to spew another curse, but the pack of shadow hounds surrounded her, their low growls silencing her immediately. She shrank back, clutching her cloak around her.

Inside the wagon, Eris moved with a predator's grace, his golden eyes scanning the dim interior. The place reeked of damp wood, spoiled herbs, and something else—something metallic and sour. The furniture was sparse and crude, and strange jars filled with unidentifiable substances lined the shelves. His gaze swept over the rickety table, the uneven floorboards, and the assortment of clutter strewn about.

Something wasn't right.

Eris paused, his sharp ears catching the faintest sound—a muffled whimper. His gaze zeroed in on the table in the centre of the room, its legs uneven and its surface covered in a filthy cloth. He stepped closer, his instincts prickling.

Pulling the cloth aside in one swift motion, he froze.

There, under the table, was a small cage, and inside it, curled up and trembling, was Kaia. Her tiny body was bound with rough ropes, and her wings were pressed awkwardly against the cage bars. Her tear-streaked face peeked out from the gag that had been forced into her mouth, her wide eyes filled with terror.

“Kaia,” Eris whispered, his voice softer than anyone would have expected. His hands reached out, careful not to startle her, as he crouched down. “It’s okay, little one. I’ve got you.”

Outside, Lucien’s head snapped up as he heard Eris’s voice. “Eris?” he called, stepping toward the wagon. The witch, realizing what they had found, let out an ear-piercing shriek and lunged forward, only to be intercepted by two of the shadow hounds. They snarled, forcing her back into the dirt.

Eris didn’t bother acknowledging the commotion outside. His focus was entirely on Kaia. He reached for the cage door, his hands trembling as he undid the crude latch. When it creaked open, Kaia flinched, pressing herself against the corner of the cage.

“It’s okay,” Eris said again, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. “You’re safe now.”

Lucien appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Is that—” His voice broke off, his chest tightening as he saw the state of Azriel’s daughter.

“It’s her,” Eris confirmed, his jaw tight with restrained fury. He carefully lifted Kaia from the cage, his movements deliberate and slow. She whimpered, her little body stiff with fear, but when she felt his arms around her, she clung to him, her tiny hands gripping his tunic.

“Dada…” Kaia whimpered, her voice muffled by the gag.

Eris’s throat tightened, but he kept his composure. “We’re taking you home,” he murmured, cradling her close.

As Eris held Kaia carefully in his arms, his golden eyes swept over her trembling body, his gaze landing on her delicate wings. His breath caught in his throat. Blood stained the edges of her tiny, soft the crimson stark against the white and silver of her wings.

The deep gash at the base of one wing was impossible to ignore, the cut jagged and cruel, as if done with no regard for her fragile form. Blood trickled from the wound, soaking into her clothing and dripping onto Eris’s hands.

Lucien, standing just behind him, froze at the sight. “Mother above…” he murmured, his voice filled with horror. His mechanical eye whirred as he scanned the injury, the details burning into his memory.

Kaia whimpered weakly, her little hands clinging to Eris’s tunic as if she was afraid to let go. Her tiny voice, muffled and broken, whimpered through the gag still tied around her face. "H-hurt… Dada... Mama..."

Eris’s jaw clenched tightly, his fury barely restrained. “Lucien, get me a cloth. Now,” he ordered sharply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Lucien moved quickly, his hands rummaging through the scattered contents of the witch’s wagon. He grabbed a relatively clean strip of cloth and rushed back to Eris, his movements purposeful despite the rage simmering beneath his usually calm exterior.

Eris gently adjusted Kaia in his arms, careful not to jostle her injured wings further. “I know, little one,” he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I know it hurts. I’m so sorry.”

Lucien handed him the cloth, and Eris pressed it gently against the base of her wings, trying to stem the bleeding. Kaia flinched and let out a soft cry of pain, her face scrunching up as tears streamed down her cheeks.

“It’s okay,” Eris soothed, his voice quieter now. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” His hands moved carefully, ensuring the pressure was just enough to slow the bleeding without causing her more pain.

Lucien knelt beside him, his face dark with anger and worry. “We need to get her out of here now,” he said firmly. “She needs a healer. Immediately.”

Eris nodded, his expression grim. He glanced down at Kaia, her face pale and streaked with tears, her wings trembling slightly as he held her. “We’re going home,” he promised her, his voice unwavering. “No one will hurt you ever again.”

Kaia went limp in Eris's arms, her small body sagging against him as her shallow breaths barely stirred. Her tiny wings, bloodied and trembling moments before, now hung unnaturally still. Eris felt a cold dread settle deep in his chest, his heart pounding violently against his ribs.

“No, no, no, Kaia,” Eris murmured, his voice shaking, a rare crack in his usually controlled demeanour. “Stay with me, little one.” His golden eyes darted to her pale face, her tears drying in streaks on her cheeks. Panic surged in him as he realized how cold she felt against his chest.

Lucien, crouching nearby, noticed the shift. “Eris?” he asked cautiously, his voice laced with unease. When he saw the way Eris held her limp form tighter, something dark flickered across Lucien’s features. “Eris, what—?”

“Deal with the witch!” Eris barked, his voice raw and loud, his usual calm replaced with fury and desperation. He stood abruptly, cradling Kaia closer, his hands trembling as he adjusted the cloth to keep pressure on her bleeding wings. “I’m taking her back. Handle this.” His hair glinted under the dim light as his sharp eyes burned with determination.

Lucien nodded sharply, his expression hardening as he turned toward the wagon and the witch, who was still writhing and snarling curses at them. Without hesitation, he moved to take control of the scene, his mechanical eye glinting as he calculated every necessary step.

Eris didn’t wait another second. With Kaia pressed tightly to his chest, he winnowed, his flames licking the air as the forest house materialized around him. The moment his boots hit the ground, he shouted, his voice echoing with authority and desperation.

“HEALER! I NEED A HEALER NOW!”

His roar cut through the silence of the home like a blade. The few guards stationed nearby rushed into the room, alarm etched into their faces. They took one look at the bloodied child in Eris’s arms and didn’t hesitate to act. One of them darted off to fetch a healer, while another cleared a space on a nearby table.

Eris lowered Kaia onto the table carefully, his hands hovering as if afraid touching her further would cause her more pain. His throat tightened at the sight of her tiny form, so fragile and still. Her wings were splayed unnaturally, blood pooling beneath her despite the cloth he’d pressed against her wounds.

He leaned over her, his hands clenching into fists as he whispered, “You’re going to be okay. You have to be.” His voice cracked, the weight of the past weeks and the horrors she’d endured finally breaking through his walls.

The healer arrived moments later, her bag clutched tightly in her hands. Her eyes widened at the sight before her, but she quickly schooled her expression and approached the table. “Lord Eris,” she said, her tone steady despite the urgency in her movements. “I’ll do everything I can.”

“You’d better,” Eris growled lowly, his golden eyes blazing. He stepped back to give her room but stayed close, watching every move she made with a ferocity that promised retribution if she failed.

Lucien returned to the forest house nearly an hour later, his cloak dusted with ash and his expression grim. He entered the main room to find Eris pacing relentlessly, his golden hair dishevelled and his hands flexing at his sides. The faint scent of blood still lingered in the air, but the healer had just finished stabilizing Kaia, who now lay wrapped in soft blankets on a low cot.

Eris turned the moment Lucien stepped inside, his sharp eyes narrowing. “What did you do?” he demanded, his voice cutting through the tense silence.

Lucien’s gaze flickered toward the cot where Kaia lay before meeting Eris’s burning stare. “The witch won’t harm anyone else,” he said simply, his tone as cold as the winter air outside. “She won’t be coming back.”

Eris’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t press further. He didn’t need to; he trusted Lucien to have dealt with the witch in the manner required. His concern was focused solely on the small child resting a few feet away. He exhaled harshly, dragging a hand down his face, before turning toward the cot. “Good,” he muttered, his voice low. “But we’re far from finished.”

Lucien stepped closer, his sharp features softening as he looked down at Kaia. “How is she?” he asked, his tone quieter now.

“The healer says she has a slight chance of survive,” Eris replied, though his voice was taut with restrained emotion. “But those wings... there’s damage. Permanent damage, possibly. She’s not out of the woods yet.” He glanced at his brother, the weight of everything pressing visibly on his shoulders.

Lucien placed a hand on Eris’s shoulder, offering a grounding touch. “You did everything you could,” he said, his amber eye locking with Eris’s. “And she’s alive because of you.”

Eris shook his head, his lips curling into a bitter line. “I’m not done yet. None of this is over. I need to get to Rhysand. He needs to know his niece is safe.”

Lucien’s brow furrowed slightly. “Are you sure you want to go now? The child—”

“She’ll be safe here,” Eris interrupted, his voice firm. “I trust the healer. But her parents—Y/N she needs to— they deserve to know. Can you imagine what they’ve been going through?” His eyes burned with an intensity that left no room for argument. “I’ll winnow to the Night Court immediately.”

Lucien hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Go. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on her.”

Eris gave a sharp nod in return, his expression hardening as he stepped back from the cot. He spared one last glance at Kaia, who lay still but peaceful, her tiny form swaddled in blankets. Then, without another word, he vanished in a swirl of flame, his destination clear.

So in a few more chapters we come to an end but I think Kaia's faith is clear....

But once the series is done Traitors war starts properly so please check that out! I'd be so grateful if you do!

Part 5

[dumb-ster-fire]

Inner Circle Banter x fem!reader — Part 1

Azriel x mate!reader

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

Y/N tilted her head against Azriel’s shoulder, her fingers tracing along his forearm with lazy affection. Then, in a voice that dropped into something dark, something near-predatory, she whispered,

“You are mine.”

The room went silent.

Azriel arched a brow, barely holding back a smirk as he glanced down at her. Cassian’s eyes widened slightly. Mor stifled a laugh behind her hand.

Then—Y/N giggled. Bright, sweet, utterly unbothered, as if she hadn’t just sounded like a vengeful spirit claiming its next victim.

Cassian groaned, running a hand down his face. “I knew it. She’s finally lost it.”

Y/N turned her mischievous grin on him. “Finally?”

Azriel just exhaled, shaking his head as he pulled her closer. “You’re a menace.”

“You love it,” she sang, snuggling into him.

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, his arm tightening around her waist as she nestled into him. “That’s debatable.”

Y/N gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest as if he’d just delivered a mortal wound. “Debatable?!”

Cassian, ever the instigator, leaned forward with a grin. “I mean, he’s not wrong. You are kind of terrifying.”

Y/N turned her head slowly to him, her eyes gleaming. “Good. That means you know better than to cross me.”

Cassian raised his hands in surrender. “See? Terrifying.”

Mor, fully enjoying the chaos, snickered. “Honestly, I don’t know who’s worse. You or Az.”

Azriel just shook his head, his fingers idly stroking along Y/N’s back. “It’s definitely her.”

Y/N gasped again, but this time, a sly smile followed. She lifted herself just enough to whisper in his ear, her lips brushing against his skin as she purred, “And yet, you adore me.”

Azriel stilled. His shadows curled subtly around her, betraying him before he could even open his mouth.

Rhys chuckled from across the room. “He’s doomed, and we all know it.”

Y/N smirked, eyes bright with victory as she nuzzled against Azriel’s shoulder again. “Damn right he is.”

Azriel sighed, but there was no real exasperation in it—just quiet, resigned affection. His fingers continued tracing small, absentminded patterns on Y/N’s back as she lounged against him, entirely too pleased with herself.

Cassian, still grinning, leaned back in his chair. “You know, I think we should take bets on how long it takes before Az fully accepts his fate as a whipped male.”

Y/N lifted a hand, lazily flipping him off without even bothering to sit up. “We both know he already has.”

Azriel didn’t argue. He simply took Y/N’s hand, lowering it from its obscene gesture and kissing her knuckles like the smug bastard he was.

Mor whistled. “Damn, that was smooth.”

Y/N groaned dramatically, tossing her head back. “Ugh, I hate that he’s smooth.”

Azriel smirked, shadows curling playfully around her wrist before dissipating. “No, you don’t.”

Y/N grumbled under her breath, refusing to dignify that with a response.

Amren, who had been silently sipping her wine the entire time, finally chimed in. “If I have to endure one more minute of you two making heart eyes at each other, I’m going to start throwing furniture.”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to peer at Amren. “Bold of you to assume Rhys wouldn’t just shield everything before you even got a chance.”

Rhys, sprawled lazily in his chair, merely shrugged. “I mean, I would, but I’d let her throw Cassian first.”

Cassian let out an offended squawk. “Excuse me?!”

Feyre sighed, rubbing her temples. “Can we go one night without devolving into chaos?”

Y/N tilted her head, pretending to think. “No.”

Azriel’s quiet laugh vibrated against her, and that alone made the entire exchange worth it.

[outoftheseine]

-AZRIEL “THE SHADOWSINGER” FIC RECS-

i am so obsessed with him it is not even funny | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. some fics have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

the trials of aphrodite • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (unrequited love, so much pining)

unrequited love | part two • azriel x reader

↳ by @lyssasdrafts (angst)

a field of dandelions • azriel x witch!reader

↳ by @prythianpages (made my heart warm, some angst, smut)

bloodied bonds | sinner’s sacrifice • azriel x rhysand’s sister!reader

↳ by @ellievickstar (hanahaki au, angst)

if it all fell • azriel x reader

↳ by @pellucid-constellations (angst, comfort, i feel for azriel :()

the silent one | 2 | 3 | 4 | azriel x fem!oc

↳ by @feyreswaterybowels (found family, slowburn, angst, fluff, comfort, mute!oc, tw: past sa)

lonesome | part 2 • azriel x reader

↳ by @assassinsblade (angst)

ocean eyes • azriel x reader

↳ by @redheadspark (very fluffy, angsty at times, smut, dad!azriel)

crush • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (so so fluffy, smut)

i laugh like me again… she laughs like you | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 • azriel x reader

↳ by @azrielbrainrot (very angsty, grief, violence, torture)

was any of it true? | full throttle | alt. ending • badboy!azriel x goodgirl!reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (modern au, angst, happy ending, smut)

pushed to the edge • azriel x seer!reader

↳ by @stormhearty (oh boy hurt me so good)

baker!reader x azriel

↳ by @imaginesmai (so fluffyyy)

and so, the stars aligned | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @offthepages

finding home • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @parkerslatte

sweet like sugar • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingsbychlo (fluff, angst, smut)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

tiny shadows • azriel x reader

↳ by @xmalfoyweasleyx (fluff)

his shadows know • azriel x reader

↳ by @daycourtofficial (fluff)

he feels safe with you • azriel x reader

↳ by @florencemtrash (warm, fuzzy fluff)

the quiet between • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thewulf (mean!az, angst, fluff)

you drew stars around my scars • azriel x reader

↳ by @flickering-chandelier (fluff, slight angst)

arcane • azriel x death god!reader

↳ by @serpentandlily (fluff, tw: alludes to sa)

butterfly kisses • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (fluff, suggestive)

threads of hazel • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @itsswritten (oh beautiful angst)

laborious activities • azriel x reader

↳ by @writingcroissant (fluff and labour things)

marriage-life • azriel x reader

↳ by @delulustateofmind (sooo fluffy)

baby blanket • azriel x reader

↳ by @sapphicmsmarvel (fluff)

implode • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @daydreaming-nerd (really angsty)

blinded • azriel x reader

↳ by @lady-of-tearshed (oh so angsty, unrequited love)

scartlet-tipped secrets; peonies, for you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @angelshadowsinger (hanahaki au, unrequited love, angst)

totally annoying and not funny at all • azriel x reader

↳ by @sillymercury (fluff, little angst, literally idiots in love)

never yours • azriel x reader (lucien x reader)

↳ by @really-fanny-longbottom (angst, stupid azriel tbh, fluff)

let me keep you company • azriel x reader

↳ by @utterlyazriel (so so fluffy)

you found me • azriel x reader

↳ by @pit-and-the-pen (angst, blood, comfort)

pretty little shadowsinger • azriel x reader

↳ by @illyrianbitch (fluff)

happy ending • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @milswrites (fluff and a little angst)

pancake • azriel x reader

↳ by @acotarxreader (fluff, comfort, tw: panic attack)

domestic bliss • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @bat-boys (very fluffy, slightly suggestive)

and yesterday you were here with me • azriel x reader

↳ by @dawneternal (angst, comfort, tw: miscarriage)

(what if?) all i need is you • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @empiresofstorm (whipped azriel, comfort, fluff)

baby mine • azriel x reader

↳ by @thisblogisaboutabook (angst, comfort, fluff, tws: sa and trauma)

calypso • azriel x reader

↳ by @solbaby7 (fav kind of female rage, mentions of blood)

the girl who cheated death • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @utterlyotterlyx (fluff)

the tormented & the unforgiven • azriel x reader

↳ by @lucysstoryworld (very angsty, graphic torture)

tattoos older than you • azriel x archeron!reader

↳ by @surielstea (age-gap, suggestive)

“you were flirting with me?” • azriel x fem!reader

↳ by @thehighladywrites (suggestive, fluff, humour)

[danikamariewrites]

Punches & Apologies

Batboys x reader

Notes: this was a commission fic that I forgot to post lol. Buckle up bc she’s a long one with lots of Az angst

Warnings: angst, training accident

Heavy pants and the rush of your blood fill your ears. You are exhausted. Your body begging you to stop. The muscles in your arms and legs screaming and pulsing, never being pushed to this extent before.

Azriel is pushing you as punishment for your latest mission to the Continent. You made a mistake, a miscalculation. One that got an emissary killed and put you within death’s grasp.

But that does not give Azriel an excuse to push you like he has never made a mistake before.

Cauldron, your mates must be feeling your pain. At least Cassian is. You’ve been sending everything to him down the bond in the hopes he stops Azriel.

Slipping to take a knee on purpose, Azriel brings the practice sword to rest against your throat. His nostrils flared as his breathing turned heavy, angry that you would blatantly yield instead of fighting until the end like you were taught.

You just stare at each other for a moment that seems to go on for an eternity. Cassian clears his throat but you two just keep staring each other down. “I think that’s enough for today.” His voice is strained, telling you Cassian was certainly feeling the echoes of your pain.

“No,” Azriel said tensely. “We keep going.” He draws back the practice sword, stepping back to pace in front of your still kneeling form. You screw your eyes shut, putting all of your effort on slowing your heart rate.

“Azriel, I don't think it’s wise to continue. Take a break and cool off.” Cassian gives Azriel a glare reserved for his soldiers. “No.” Azriel replied shortly. His piercing gaze never leaving you. “Get up.” He commands.

“Az, please,” You beg. “Up now, or I’m suspending you from missions indefinitely.” Your eyes widen at his threat. Cassian opens his mouth to interject but you hold your hand out to him, rising from your spot on the mat.

If Azriel wanted your all, fine. You’re done pulling punches. Throwing your practice sword aside you ball your fists. A wave of anger rushing through you, motivating you to beat the ever-loving-shit out of your mate. “Let's go then.” You bite out. “No weapons? Fine.” Azriel says smugly.

The two of you square up, circling each other slowly as you assess the other’s weak spots. You were determined to land the first punch. Not wasting any more time you launch yourself at Azriel with your fist pulled back. Letting your fist fly straight for his nose, Azriel dodges you, dipping to your right.

You stumble, quickly regaining your balance, whipping around to face him. A nasty scowl contorting your features. Azriel throws a series of punches that you duck under. Your arms raised in front of your face for protection.

Between punches you pop up, landing two quick jabs to his ribs. There wasn’t much behind the punches, but enough that you could put some distance between you. Over Azriel’s shoulder you could see Cassian standing rigid, his hands behind his back. A torn look pulling at his rugged face.

Part of Cassian roars to put a stop to this before someone gets hurt. The other part of him whispers that this is between you and Azriel. That you two need to work this out so the anger doesn’t follow you around.

When Cassian focuses again the two of you are getting more and more violent. Punches getting faster and faster.

You can tell Azriel is getting even more frustrated with you. By continuously dodging him you aren’t truly facing off against him. His pace picks up so fast you can feel the wind from his punches. You go to step left, thinking Azriel was going to throw his right hand. It was too late for you to notice the change. Azriel throws a left hook, his fist connecting with your jaw. A loud crack stunning the three of you.

You let gravity pull you down to the mat. Laying flat on your back, tense and in shock waiting for the adrenaline rush to wear off so you would feel the pain. There was a slight ringing in your ears along with Azriel and Cassian’s screaming match that you tuned out.

Looking at the sky you focused on the clouds passing by. Their different shapes and how soft they seemed. Anything to get your mind off the pain that would be taking over any second.

“Rhys,” you whispered in your mind, “Rhys…the training ring…” Even in your mind your voice was weak. When you focused you saw soft violet eyes staring down at you. “Hi darling.” Rhys says softly. “Rhys?” Your voice cracks as pain has your mouth snapping shut. Tears sting your eyes as you try to breathe through your nose to stay calm.

“Hey, hey it’s ok.” Rhys coos. He softly runs the tips of his fingers against the blooming bruise on your face. You whimper at his touch. Rhys winces at your pain, feeling your distress through the bond. You can still hear Cassian and Azriel arguing. “QUIET!” Rhys’s voice booms through the training room. The pair immediately fall silent. The severity of what has happened settled over them.

Rhys carefully scoops you into his arms. As he heads for the entrance to the house he yells at Cassian and Azriel, “Do not disturb me or her for the rest of the day. I will deal with both of you later.” Rhys’s tone left no room for argument. The Illyrians bowed their heads murmuring “Yes High Lord” in unison.

Trying to focus on anything but the pain you look at the hallway Rhys is walking. The floor is lined with an ornate carpet. The walls are covered in old paintings you’re sure his father collected, along with vintage sconces giving off a soft glow of fae light.

That’s when you realize he’s taking you to his personal wing. Rooms Rhys has rarely used in the last few years since the bond snapped.

You make a small noise to get his attention. Unable to move your mouth in fear of something in your jaw popping. You push yourself further into his chest. Focusing on the feel of Rhys under you.

Gently laying you on the large four poster bed Rhys hesitantly lets you go. “I will be right back.” He says, disappearing in a wisp of black swirls.

You knew he would be back soon. That Rhys wouldn’t leave you to suffer alone. To ease your anxiety you use the technique Cass taught you. Five things you can see, four things you can touch, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one you can taste.

There wasn’t much you could do for a few of the numbers, but what you could do caught your attention immediately. It’s been so long since you’ve visited Rhysand’s personal wing of the House of Wind. Longer since you’ve spent the night here.

Looking around the room you noticed the paintings – his favorites from his father’s collection – the curtains half drawn for the balcony doors, a blanket Rhys would always wrap you in hanging off the end of the bed. The canopy on the bed has changed from thick, velvet black fabric to a gauzy, airy white fabric you would see in the Summer Court. Lastly, you notice how brightly lit the room is.

You feel the softness of the comforter under your fingers. You had thought it would feel scratchy or dusty from not being used. But that wouldn’t be like Rhys to let anything in this massive house seem unused.

You can feel your training leathers clinging to your skin from sweat. Feel the heaviness of your boots pulling at your ankles.

Before you can move to unlace them Rhys reappears with Madja by his side. The old healer was fuming, her eyes going wide as she spotted the bruise on the side of your face. Rhys must have told her about training.

“I swear to the Cauldron,” Madja mutters. Striding over to you she plops her bag down on the bed, her gentle hands softly cup your jaw. Rhys stands behind her. Anxiously biting at his nails as he watches the glow from her hands.

Madja straightens, her lips pulled into a frown as she thinks. “It’s not broken or fractured, thank the Mother. But the bruising inside and out will cause you pain for a few days.” You nod at her assessment. Placing her hands on you again you hold back a new wave of tears as Madja healed what she could.

You didn’t pay attention to her when going over what tonics to take and when. Rhys was clinging to her every word for the both of you. You were too busy thinking about how Azriel pushed you so hard that you ended up hurt.

When Rhys came back from escorting Madja to the city he helped you out of your leathers and into a hot bath.

An hour later you were back in bed with Rhys holding you to his chest, an ice pack resting against your jaw to help with the swelling. Tears silently stream down your cheeks as Rhys smoothes down your hair to help calm you.

“Do you want to stay here or in your own room?” He asked, finally breaking the silence. Sniffling your answer, “Here.”

“Ok,” Rhys presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “You’ll stay with me, right?” You hold his shirt in a death grip. Praying Rhys won’t leave you alone. “Of course, darling.” You let out a shaky exhale in relief. You weren’t ready to face Cassian and Azriel. Staying in Rhys’s wing ensured that. They wouldn’t dare enter his personal wing for fear of being punished by their High Lord.

For a week you stayed curled up in Rhys’s old bed. He opted for working in his smaller study next to the bedroom while you recovered. Though the bruising went down and the pain went away you couldn’t bring yourself to do any of your daily activities. Your failed mission and fight with Azriel depressing you too much, along with the absence of two of your mates. That was your choice though.

You weren’t ready to face them. Still angry at both of them. Angry at Cassian for not stepping in. Angry at Azriel for thinking he could push until he gets his way.

Once you were able to actually chew your food, you thought maybe it was time to leave bed. “Are you sure you don’t want to take a few more days?” Rhys asked. He wrapped you tightly in his arms, resting his cheek on the top of your head.

“Yes, Rhys. I’ll go back to High Lady duties, but I’m not training for now. I don’t particularly want to be around Cass and Az.” You huff. Just thinking about them makes you angry. Rhys leans away from you, holding you by your shoulders. “I know darling. They do feel guilty and are beside themselves.” Rhys frowns.

You knew they were. You could feel them through the bond, Azriel the least. You knew he must have built a wall of steel around his heart. Cauldron, he must be a ghost of himself right now.

After a few days of being back in the usual parts of the house you seek out Cassian. Finding him in the dining room you sit across from him. Cass pauses eating, shocked to see you. You send him a reassuring smile along with a pulse of love down the bond.

“It’s good to see you sweetheart.” He breaks out into a wide grin, reaching across the table to hold your hands. “Hi Cass,” is all you can manage. Overwhelmed by the happiness you’re feeling through the bond to see him again. “How are you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Better,” you answer honestly. “The pain is gone but the bruising is still there a little.” You turn your head to give Cassian a better view of the yellowing skin. His fists clench and his face contorts in anger.

“I should’ve stopped him myself. Az was in his own head and I knew it,” Cassian says more to himself tha you. It seems like this is the first time he is truly admitting his thoughts outloud. “Cass,” you say gently, “It isn’t your fault. This is between me and Azriel.”

“I’m sorry.” He chokes out, silver lining his eyes. You quickly round the table, placing yourself in his lap. You wipe away a stray tear, kissing his nose. “Cass, I’ve forgiven you.” Cassian pulls you into his chest, hugging you and sending all his love down the bond. It was almost too much. You felt like your chest was going to explode.

As the days pass and your temper cools, you find yourself craving to have all three of your mates by your side again. Rhys and Cass were keeping you company. You’re back to your old routine, but still sitting out of morning training. You felt like a piece of you was missing.

You had only seen Azriel in passing once. And the male couldn’t even look at you. Your heart clenched at the lack of recognition. You tried to reach out to his end of the bond but you were quickly met with an impenetrable wall of shadows.

Azriel had taken to spending his days in his office, throwing himself fully into his work, and sleeping in his own room.

Packing for your trip to the Winter Court you called Rhys and Cassian into your bedroom. You give them a sweet smile as you fold your clothes, putting them in your bag. “I have a request for while I’m gone.”

“What’s that, darling?” Rhys’s smooth voice sends a shiver down your spine. He presses his chest to your back, hooking a finger under your chin to tilt your head back to look at him. You give him a knowing smirk and swat his hand away. “I’m trying to be serious Rhys.” The High Lord holds his hands up in surrender. “What do you need from us?” Cassian asks earnestly.

You stand straighter, eyes hardening. “I want you two to bring Azriel out of this dark spot. He’s hurting and I don’t think he’ll talk to me until he knows you two have forgiven him.”

They suck in a breath, giving each other a look that tells you neither are sure Az will talk. A long moment of silence passes before they look back at you.

“We will.” Rhys hesitantly agrees. “Do you forgive him though?” Cassian asks with a sad expression. You nod slowly. “I do. And I need you two to forgive him.” They agree to your request, promising to make things better.

Azriel watched from his balcony as you and Mor winnow away. It had pained him to stay away from you. He couldn’t bring himself to face you.

His stomach has been in constant knots. Azriel hasn’t eaten a proper meal in a week thanks to the incident with you. If he didn’t talk to you soon the guilt was going to kill him.

Azriel hadn’t slept properly either. The purple bags under his eyes were painful proof. Every time Azriel closes his eyes he sees the shock set in from the punch. He feels your jaw bone cracking under his fist. He sees you laying on your back, stunned from what your mate had done.

Azriel is your mate. One of three males that is supposed to protect you. Not cause you harm.

A knock at the door pulls him from his morbid thoughts. Opening the door Rhys stands there giving him a tentative smile. Azriel bows his head slightly before looking back at him.

Rhys clears his throat. “I know the last week has been tough, so I thought we could have a night, just the three of us.”

Azriel tenses at the thought of being around Cassian. His murderous eyes flash in his mind along with calloused hands grabbing him, wanting to throttle him. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Rhys.”

Rhys holds in a sigh, annoyed that Azriel doesn’t see the peace offering he’s trying to make. “Az, look at me,” he hooks a finger under the taller Illyrians chin, “You can’t avoid us, or y/n for that matter, forever. Please, come have dinner with us. We miss you.”

Azriel gives in, nodding in defeat. Rhys grabs the Shadowsinger’s hand, pulling him to the dinning room. Az tenses when he sees Cassian in his usual seat. Taking his place across from the General, Azriel keeps his gaze glued to him. His shadows ready to protect Azriel at any sign of a threat.

Cassian gives him a reassuring smile, “It’s good to see you, Az.” All Azriel can do is nod. A lump growing in his throat. He reigns in his emotion, keeping them behind the wall he’s built up.

Rhys flicks his wrist, making platters of food appear. “Eat up. I made sure the cooks made everyones favorite.”

The trio falls into an awkward silence. Only the clatter of cutlery against porcelain filling the cavernous room. Cassian breaks the silence, trying to naturally clear his throat. “So…” he drawls, “How was everyone’s day?”

He and Rhys fall into easy conversation with Azriel following along to avoid being consumed by his emotions. When Azriel eventually gets roped into the conversation he’s his typical quiet self.

Moving to the sitting room after the meal Azriel opens up more. Becoming his usual self around Rhys and Cass. Once the whiskey comes out the trio are back to their usual banter. Like there hasn’t been a huge rift keeping them isolated from one another.

Rhys sets his crystal glass down on the side tabel. Leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, he levels Azriel with an interogative look. “Not to ruin the evening, but we do need to talk.” Azriel freezes, that lump returning to his throat making it harder to breathe.

He knew this was coming. They needed to discuss it at some point. Az nods, urging Rhys to continue. “We know what happened, but we want to know what was going on with you.” Rhys says gently, not wanting to drill Azriel.

Azriel swallows hard, screwing his eyes shut to keep tears at bay. All calming techniques from years of training leaving his mind, losing all control on his emotions. Something Azriel isn’t known for. Grappling for words he finally finds his voice.

“What happened on the Continent stuck with me. It wasn’t a typical slip up, you didn’t see her. I thought we were going to lose her. And I wouldn’t have been able to come home and face the two of you if that happened. I thought when we got home things would be better and everything would fine.”

Tears escaped his tightly closed eyes.

A heavy, comforting hand rests on the middle of Azriel’s back. Opening his eyes he finds Cassian giving him a pained, sympathetic look. Something in Cassian’s soft hazel eyes broke Azriel. His tears started falling faster as he attempted to blink them away. Rhys rested a hand on his knee, telling him to let it out.

“Stepping back into training with her I knew I had to teach her how to avoid an accident like that again. I needed to know she could keep up if push came to shove. So I pushed and Gods do I regret it. I got so mad that she wasn’t taking it seriously and Cass you should’ve stopped me.” Azriel anguished. “I got mad and I punched, hard. I hear it all the time. I see her laying there when I close my eyes. I can’t…just,” Azriel breaks down, dropping his face into his scarred hands. Heartbreaking sobs rip from his lips as he leans into Cassians side.

The males cry with him. Feeling Azriel’s guilt and turmoil through the bond.

When Az calms down he looks to the males for guidance. Rhys moves to the couch from his usual armchair, pressing a long kiss to Azriel’s forehead. “Talk to her. Y/n desperately wants to see you too. Being away from you has pained her as much as it has you.” Rhys whispers.

Two days later, with a chill you can’t seem to shake, you return home from the Winter Court. You bid Mor goodnight in foyer and head to your bedroom. Pushing the door open you find Azriel sitting on the edge of your bed, his head down as he nervously pulls at his finger nails.

“Azzie,” you say, hopeful that he truly is here and not an image your very tired mind made up. Leaving your bag on the bench at the end of your bed, you rush over to your mate, holding his face in your still cold hands. “I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

Az leans into your touch, covering your hands with his own. You’ve missed his touch. Those rough, loving hands holding you tight to his chest. “I’m sorry,” his voice breaks, silver lining his eyes. The wall keeping his emotions from you fianlly breaks. Letting you feel everything he’s kept to himself.

“I’m so sorry. I should have stopped when you and Cass told me to. I shouldn’t have let my anger and fear get the best of me. I am so sorry, my love. So sorry.”Azriel’s arms wrap around your waist, pulling you to stand between his thighs. You let him hold you, wrapping your arms around his neck.

The two of you cried and clung to each other for what felt like an eternity.

Azriel pulls away, holding you by your waist. You wipe away his lingering tears. “I forgive you, Azriel. Promise me that if something like this happens again you won’t let it build. We’ll talk first before we let our feelings get the better of us. Because I don’t know what will happen is there’s another incident like this.”

“I will, I swear it. And i’m going to make this up to you for the rest of our lives.” Azriel’s tone is a strict promise to you. “As long as you don’t push me in training anymore we’re ok.” You joke with him. Azriel’s face stays serious, not a smirk in sight. “Never again.”

He stands from the bed pulling you into sweet embrace, tucking your head under his chin. “If you’re up for it I want to take you to dinner tomorrow night. Just me and you,” he asks, hopeful. You squeeze Azriel tighter, “I’d love that Azzie.”

Unwrapping yourself from Azriel you look up at him with big, tear filled eyes. Batting your lashes at him. Azriel looked at you with hazel eyes full of nothing but love. He cups your jaw, running his fingers over the spot where the bruise from his punch once was. “How are you feeling? I dove right into my apology I didn’t even ask.”

“I’m good. The pain is gone, so is the bruise on the inside.” Azriel’s eyes widened. He didn’t get a full update from Rhys when Madja had healed you. “But it’s ok,” you assure him quickly. Azriel pulls you against his chest again, kissing the top of your head. You giggle lightly at his action.

You pull away again, going to your closet to change for bed. It’s been a long day and you could leave unpacking until tomorrow. Right now you wanted to sleep with Azriel by your side. It had been two long weeks without him.

Coming back to your room you find Az sitting back on your bed awkwardly. You climb onto the mattress, crawling up behind him. You rest your chin on his shoulder, “Will you stay in here tonight? I don’t want to be without you.”

Without a word Azriel shoots up, stripping his leathers from his body. He pulls the covers back waiting for you to settle in next to him.

You quickly snuggle into his side, resting your head on his bare chest. Azriel pulls the covers up around your shoulders tight to keep you warm. You gently pull his face down to meet your lips in a sweet kiss. “Goodnight Azzy. I love you, so much baby.”

Azriel cradles your head, letting out a small hum. “I love you too, sweetheart. More than you know.”

[cressidagrey]

Holy Ground - Chapter 6

Summary:

Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.

Warning:

Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?), Chronic Injury/Pain/Illness, Minor Character Death (It's probably nobody you love), Magical Work Accidents, Explosions, Injuries

If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.

It had been two days since…since Merrill’s death, and Irena was getting restless. While she appreciated Azriel’s presence, his constant hovering was starting to grate on her patience. Though she knew he meant well, it was beginning to feel a little like being under house arrest.

"Az," she said carefully that morning after he had tried to spoonfed her porridge, even when she had told him finally that she could just about manage to eat that on her own. "I love you, but you are driving me nuts," she told him seriously. "Please go and...do something."

Azriel looked at her, surprise flashing across his face at her straightforward comment. For a moment, he looked torn between wanting to keep watching over her... and wanting to not drive her crazy in the process.

Finally he relented, letting out a deep sigh. "Fine," he said gruffly. "I'll go find something to do. But I'm not going far, and I'll be back to check on you soon."

"Go punch Cassian, duck when he punches back, or something,” she suggested. 

Azriel rolled his eyes at her suggestion, but he couldn't help a small smile. "That's your recommendation?" he said dryly. "Go pick a fight with Cassian?"

Irena shrugged, wincing a little as the movement pulled at her still-healing leg. "It's a suggestion," she said dryly. "It would certainly help you burn off some of that energy you're burning through hovering over me constantly."

Azriel chuckled reluctantly at that, shaking his head. "You're impossible, you know," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Fine, I'll go pick a fight with Cassian. Happy?"

"Ecstatic," Irena told him drily.

There was a commotion outside the door, just at that moment.

"You can't keep me away from my friend!" Roslin. Irena would recognise her best friends voice anywhere.

Azriel heard Roslin's voice outside the door and immediately tensed up, his protective instincts kicking in. He looked at Irena, his expression concerned. "It's Roslin," he said quietly.

"Let her in," she said easily. "She can keep me company, while Cassian beats you up," she told him brightly.

Her mate just raised an eyebrow at her. "I can beat him up, too, you know," he said drily. Azriel dropped a kiss to her head, before he went to open the door wide. Irena craned her head, eeing Roslin go head to head with The General, while Gwyn was standing just a few paces behind her with Nesta.

The General looked slightly frazzled, as if he had been trying to hold back an incoming storm but was about to be blown away. Roslin, on the other hand, looked as fierce and stubborn as ever. Irena smiled at the sight of her friend.

"Ros," she called for her friend.Roslin's head whipped around at Irena's voice, and her expression immediately went from fierce to worried. "Irena!" she cried, shoving her way past The General and rushing over to the bed. "Oh my gods, you look horrible!"

"Thanks," Irena said wryly, rolling her eyes. "You look lovely too."

Roslin sat down on the edge of Irena’s bed, her eyes flicking over her friend's body, taking in the various bandages and scrapes. "Are you okay?" she asked anxiously.

Irena shrugged, wincing only slightly this time. "I'm fine," she said, trying to downplay the severity of her injuries. "Really, Ros, I'm okay. Azriel's just being paranoid."

Only then Roslin seemed to realise Azriel's presence, staring at him. "You owe me so many cookies," she hissed at Irena, making her laugh.

"You owe us so many cookies," Gwyn agreed, as she entered the room.

Azriel just looked at the two priestesses, his expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. "Cookies?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't ask," Irena said, shaking her head. "It's what we use to pay our dues in the library," she said with some amusement.

Roslin settled heavily on the bed beside her, taking her hand in hers. "I was so worried about you," she said quietly. "We all were."

Go, Irena mouthed to Azriel, who inclined his head, leaving the room.

"Alright, tell me," Roslin demanded as soon as the door closed. "How long has this been going on!"

"2 years," she admitted to her friend.

Roslin's eyes practically popped out of her head. "Two years?!" she exclaimed. "Two years and you never thought to tell me?"

"Seriousyl?!" Gwyn demanded. "You could have told us something!"

Irena sighed, feeling a little guilty for keeping it a secret for so long. "I know, I know," she said, shaking her head. "I just...I didn't know how to even say it, if I'm being honest. I just wanted time to figure it out...to wrap my head around it...He's my mate. I never thought I would have that," she explained softly.

Roslin and Gwyn both immediately softened at her words. "Oh, Irena," Roslin said, squeezing her hand gently. "I'm happy for you, truly."

"We're happy for you," Gwyn echoed, nodding. "Even if you kept us in the dark for two whole years."

"How did you even manage that?!" Roslin demanded. “Nobody had a clue?!”

Irena silently held up her wrist, where the shadows wrapped themselves around on a near daily basis. 

Roslin's eyes widened as she saw the shadows on Irena's wrist. "Are those...are those his shadows?" she asked, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Gwyn leaned forward, peering at the shadows with a mixture of curiosity and fascination. Irena nodded, the shadows moving against her skin in a comforting caress. 

"Yeah, they kind of have a mind of their own," she explained. "They follow me around constantly."

"They're beautiful," Gwyn said quietly, her eyes tracing the shadows as they shifted with each movement of Irena's arm.

"They look like they really like you," Roslin commented wryly, raising an eyebrow. "Just like the shadowsinger."

Irena blushed slightly at Roslin's comment, her lips twisting into a wry smile. "Thanks...?"

Roslin's eyes flicked over her friend's face, noticing the blush. "Oh, you’re blushing. That’s cute," she teased. "Is he..." Roslin trailed off. "He's always so serious..."

Irena chuckled softly. "Well, he's a spy," she said wryly. "Being serious kind of comes with the territory, I suppose."

Roslin leaned back against the headboard, her arms crossed over her chest. "True," she said thoughtfully. "But is he like that with you?"

Irena thought for a moment, her fingers toying with the edge of the blanket as she considered the question. "He's...he's less serious with me," she said slowly. "He's still serious most of the time, but he's also...he's sweet. He's gentle," she said softly.

"Azriel is kind," she explained. "And that's...He is everything I ever wanted.”

The complete opposite of her late husband in every way. 

Roslin and Gwyn shared a knowing look between them, clearly seeing the love and affection on Irena's face. "You really love him, don't you?" Roslin said gently. It was a statement, not a question.

Irena looked down at her hands, at the shadows that still curled around her wrist, and she gave a little nod. "More than I ever thought I could love anyone," she admitted softly. "He's...everything to me."

She hadn’t thought she would ever be in love…didn’t think that that was something that was going to happen to her…but there she was…And Irena was utterly and irrevocably in love with Azriel. 

There was silence for a moment, and then Roslin leaned over, pulling Irena into a gentle hug. "I'm happy for you," she whispered fervently. "I'm so happy you found someone who loves you like that. He...he treats you well?" she asked Irena softly.

"He spoils me rotten," Irena said drily.

Roslin laughed, the tension in her shoulders easing a little at Irena's answer. "Spoils you rotten, huh?" she repeated with a raised eyebrow. "So he's a complete softie, is that what you're saying?"

Irena chuckled, shaking her head. "Not a softie," she corrected. "But he's definitely...he's very protective. And he's always trying to take care of me, even when I don't need it."

"He certainly does like to hover," Gwyn agreed from the other side of the bed.

Roslin hummed in agreement, her eyes studying Irena's face. "But you like that, don't you?"

Gwyn laughed softly, an amused look on her face. "I bet he's even more broody than usual when he's around you," she said, a gleam in her eye. "Especially now, when you're hurt."

Irena swallowed at that reminder.

"What...What...When is the...Memorial Service for Merill?" she asked quietly.

The air in the room immediately darkened at the mention of Merrill. Roslin's face went a shade paler, while even Gwyn looked a little solemn.

"Tomorrow," Roslin answered quietly. "Clotho's handling the arrangements."

Irena nodded, swallowing past the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath, trying to hold back the sudden wave of grief that threatened to overwhelm her. There was a moment of heavy silence, filled only by the sound of her slightly labored breaths.

"I can't believe she is really gone," Irena said weakly. "I told her it was a bad idea but she didn't listen and..."

"Hey, it's not your fault, Irena," Gwyn said quickly, reaching out to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. "You warned her. You told her not to do that...it's not on you."

"She didn't deserve to die like that," Irena choked out. "The library is supposed to be a safe place."

"And it is," Roslin agreed. "The library is a safe place. If one follows the rules and the guidance Clotho and you give. It's not your fault that Merill thought she knew better," Roslin said quietly. "Meera feels horrible by the way."

"What? Why?" Irena asked. "Is it about Merrill?"

"It's about you," Roslin said drily. "Irena, you wouldn't have been in that office if Meera hadn't come to you."Irena's eyes widened at that. 

"Wait, Meera thinks that she's responsible for what happened to me?" she asked, incredulous. "Why on earth would she think that?"

Roslin shook her head, her expression full of regret. "She's taking it really badly," she explained. "She feels like she's the reason you were...were hurt. She's been beating herself up about it all week."

"That's ridiculous!" Irena exclaimed, sitting up a little straighter against the pillows. "Meera had nothing to do with what happened! It was Merrill's actions, no one else's."

"Yeah, it was," Gwyn agreed. "It wasn't Meera's fault. And it also wasn't yours."

Irena took a deep breath, trying to control the wave of guilt that was still threatening to overwhelm her. It wasn't her fault...she knew that logically. But deep down, a part of her still wondered if there was something else she could have done to stop Merrill.

"I just...I keep going over it in my mind," she admitted softly. "Thinking about what if I had reacted differently, or if I had done something else..."

"Irena, you did what you could," Roslin interrupted firmly. "You warned Merrill not to use that spell, you told her it was too risky. What more could you have done?”

"I don't know," she whispered.

Roslin moved over towards Irena again, pulling her into another hug. "Don't blame yourself. It was Merrill's choice to use that spell. It was her choice to ignore your warnings. You did everything you could."

Irena leaned into the hug, letting her friends' words and presence soothe the tumultuous emotions still churning inside her. "You're right," she said softly. "I know you're right. But it doesn't make it any easier, does it?"

"No, it doesn't," Roslin agreed. "But you're not alone. You've got all of us. And you've got a big, broody, overprotective mate who's probably pacing outside the room right now. You have been holding out on us," Rosline teased her, and Irena couldn’t help but laugh.

***

Azriel stood outside the door of Irena's room, his back against the wall, his mind racing. He was torn between wanting to barge into the room and see Irena for himself and knowing he had to give her time with her friends. He'd never been a particularly patient or relaxed male, but waiting outside that blasted door was testing all his limits.

"How is she?" Cassian asked him.

Azriel let out a huff, his eyes locked on the door. "She's...she's in one piece, at least," he said gruffly. "Which I suppose is something."

Cassian let out a huff of his own, shaking his head. "You're a mess, you know that right?"

"I am very much aware," Azriel gave back testily. "Irena said I should hit you and duck when you hit back," he said with some amusement.

Cassian's eyes widened in surprise and then he burst out laughing. "She did, did she?" he asked, clearly amused by the idea of Irena advising Azriel to deck him.

"Will it make you feel better?" Cassian asked him.

"I think so," Azriel admitted. His brother jostled him with his wing.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Cassian said easily. Which was how they found themselves in the Sparring Ring again.

"I am sorry," Cassian said as he stepped back, taking up position. Azriel just sighed.

"You didn't do anything," he said with a shrug. Not really at least.

It wasn’t on Cassian. Cassian hadn’t been the main reason. Granted Cassian had said things that he hadn’t liked…ill-thought out things that had been hurtful…but Cassian had never carved out his heart like Rhys had done. It had just been…annoying. 

“I did,” Cassian disagreed. “I wasn’t particularly nice to you. I also really should learn when to shut up, one of those days.”

Azriel couldn’t help but snort. He moved with  grace and precision, years of training engrained in every move he made. But his mind was not fully focused, and Cassian was able to get a few blows in even as Azriel tried to beat his guilt and worry out of himself.

"You didn't tell me that you met your mate," Cassian said sharply. "I fucked up. I know that, Az."

Azriel blocked another one of Cassian's punches, grunting with the effort. "I didn't tell anyone," he said gruffly. "We didn't tell anyone."

He feinted left and ducked as Cassian attempted to punch him in the ribs, but Cassian was faster and caught him in the side anyway. Azriel grunted, the pain momentarily clearing his mind. He landed a blow of his own on Cassian's shoulder, sending his brother stumbling back.

They circled each other, sizing each other up. Azriel's mind was clearer now, more focused. He moved with more precision, his punches more calculated with each blow.

"Rhys admitted to what he did...about Elain...and about Mor," Cassian said carefully.

Azriel's jaw tightened at the mention of both females. He could feel the anger and hurt stirring inside of him again. But he couldn't let himself fall into that darkness, not now.

"It doesn't matter," Azriel panted.

"Why did you keep her a secret?" Cassian asked.

"Because Irena’s the best thing that ever happened to me. And because I wanted her just for myself," Azriel admitted seriously. "because I didn't want the pressure of anybody else...because I was hurt and angry at being treated like a soldier and not Rhys' brother...because I wanted one thing in my life that brought me happiness."

He lunged forward, aiming a punch at Cassian’s chest. Cassian blocked it expertly, but Azriel didn't give him time to counterattack. He feinted again, going low, then striking high. He landed a blow to Cassian's jaw, causing his head to snap to the side.

Cassian staggered, a trickle of blood staining his teeth. Azriel waited for him to steady himself. He knew he should feel guilty, they were brothers after all, but the relief of finally being able to do something, of not standing around and waiting, was too strong for it to take hold.

"She's your mate, brother," Cassian agreed. "Nobody is going to take her from you."

"Merrill nearly did," Azriel snapped.

Cassian let out a huff, wiping the blood off his mouth. "Merrill was a fool," he said with a shake of his head. "And it's not like I don't understand your worry, the thought of what could have been...it haunts me too. But Irena is alive. She's in that room with her friends."

Azriel exhaled, the anger and fear in him slowly subsiding. He lowered his hands, taking a step back from Cassian. He knew his brother was right, but that didn't make the worry or guilt any less.

"She's safe and she's alive," Cassian repeated. "She's yours, and you're hers. There's nothing more to it. She is your mate. It's the most powerful bond in the world. It's...it's a blessing, brother."

Azriel knew Cassian was right. The thought of Irena, his beautiful, strong, intelligent, and kind mate, sent a wave of fierce possessive need through him. He wanted to hold her, to keep her safe, to protect her with every breath he took.

"I know," he said simply.

"She's nice," Nesta said suddenly from the sidelines. "Irena. She seems...nice."

Both Azriel and Cassian looked up, surprised to find Nesta watching them from the sidelines. They'd both been so lost in their little sparring match, they hadn't even heard her approach.

Azriel straightened up, the tension easing from his shoulders slightly at the sight of her. Cassian, on the other hand, raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised to hear Nesta complimenting someone.

"She is," Azriel agreed. "I think you could like her," he told Nesta. "She loves books as much as you."

Nesta's lips flickered into a small smile, a glimmer of interest in her eyes. "Does she?" she asked, her tone betraying her curiosity.

Azriel nodded, a small smile of his own tugging at his lips. "She adores them," he confirmed. "She has pretty much devoured the whole romance section over the last 2 centuries."

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. "Romance, eh?" he said with a knowing look at Azriel.

Azriel felt his cheeks heat up slightly. "Don't start," he warned.

Cassian laughed again, throwing his arm around Azriel's shoulders. "Did you romance her properly?"

Azriel's cheeks heated up even more at the implication, and he shot Cassian a sharp glare. "She's my mate, of course, I did," he retorted.

"Does she make you happy?" Nesta asked him seriously.

Azriel's expression softened at that. He paused for a moment, the question carrying more weight than he would have expected. "Yes," he said quietly, the word simple yet honest. "She makes me happier than I ever thought I could feel."

[daycourtofficial]

I pretend you’re mine all the damn time

Summary: on a mission Azriel ingests a breeding tonic and you offer to help him release

Warnings: SMUT, PIV, sex pollen, slight dubcon

Author’s note: I think this is my longest fic ever and also probably the fic I’m proudest of so yall BETTER enjoy. I think this is my favorite fic I’ve ever written ugh 😩 I will likely write a part two 🫶

Word count: 2.6k

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“What the fuck,” you grunt, as you land a hit on another Illyrian after several minutes of exchanging blows.

You jab him in his ribs, blocking his retaliating kick. You huff as his hand grabs the knife at his side, deflecting your punch to his face.

You go low, swiping his legs out from under him, causing him to crash onto the ground. You climb on top of him, ready to land another blow, when his legs push up from underneath you, throwing you off of him.

He climbs on top of you, grabbing you by the collar to throw you back into the ground, when something strikes the back of his head, causing him to go limp on top of you.

Your confusion doesn’t last long as hazel eyes meet yours over the massive figure unconscious on top of you.

“I had it covered,” you said, pushing the male off of you.

Azriel snorts, “sure you did.”

He reaches out a hand, which you gladly take. He pulls you up with more force than he intended, pulling you in very close to his body. Your breath hitches, his smell of night-chilled mist and cedar invading your senses.

Your heart is beating wildly, and you’re sure he can hear it as he looks at you. He’s smiling down at you, a smile that weakens your knees and distracts you enough to forget all about the abandoned Illyrian camp you two were searching in.

At least, it was supposed to be abandoned, according to the intel you two had received. Azriel had asked you to come with him, the two of you making an exquisite pair on missions. Somehow you both knew when the other needed help, exemplified when Azriel hit the assailant from behind moments ago.

It’s like you both had a sixth sense for when the other was in danger.

You’re about to say something when something hits Azriel on the back of the head, causing him to lose his balance and stumble forward into you.

His mouth turns into a sneer, as he whips around and the Illyrian you hadn’t seen or noticed grabs Azriel by the collar, pushing him into a wall full of bottles and tubes. The guy grabs one of the random bottles from the wall, breaking the lid and pouring the powdered contents onto Azriel’s face.

“Shit,” the words come from your lips as your knife finds its mark in the dark haired male’s back. You rush forward, withdrawing the knife before turning him around and plunging it into his throat.

You don’t pay attention as the body falls to the ground, only moving towards Azriel, who was growing unsteady on his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, I’m here, I’m here,” you say, placing your hand on his arm. He snatched his arm away from you, and you can’t help the sound that comes from you at his rejection.

He is groaning, sweat beading on his forehead. He leans further against the wall, trying to escape your reach.

“Don’t,” he grits out.

“What is it? Do you know what the powder was?”

Azriel finds his canteen of water, unscrewing the cap and pouring it over his head.

“Az,” you say, but a growl cuts you off.

“Don’t,” he grits again, “don’t say my name like that.”

“Like what?”

He braces himself against the wall, breathing heavily. He finally looks at you, allowing you to see his eyes. Golden irises have been replaced by blown pupils, a black pit of desire. The room is coated in the scent of his arousal.

“Azriel,” you say tersely, “we have to go now, we have to go and see Madja because I have no clue what you inhaled.”

Azriel pushes himself further against the wall as you approach him, trying to put as much distance between you two as possible.

“I can’t- I can’t winnow us out of here,” he says, the words strained. It’s then you notice that his shadows are nowhere to be seen, having disappeared when your attention was fully on the Illyrian in front of you.

You step closer again, and his chest heaves with the groan he lets out.

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” The words come out harsh and clipped, a tone he’s never taken with you. You’re trying desperately to think of a solution, a way out of this, when you see Azriel’s hand gripping his thigh, moving closer to his crotch.

His face is red with heat and embarassment, but you can’t look away as he begins to palm himself through his leathers, as if he wasn’t in control of his hand.

“Oh gods,” you say, “this was that experimental breeding shit, wasn’t it?”

Azriel nods, his throat tight with pain.

“Fuck,” you say, and he groans.

You think about what you know about the sickening breeding experiments some of the Illyrians were doing. Previous intel from Az had told you all that they had created this drug that made you-

“Oh my gods,” you say, “we have to-“

“No,” he snarls, “no. I can do this on my own.”

“Come on, Az, you’ll die if you don’t.”

He clinches his hands in a fist, his face turning red with restraint. He looks up at the ceiling, and his eyes are damp. His wings twitch and flutter.

“We don’t know that,” he says, his hand undoing the string on his leather, any control he had over the hand is gone as his hand wraps around his cock and he begins pumping it.

“Am I really that repulsive that you’d rather die than have sex with me?”

A moan comes from his mouth. His voice comes out quiet and strained, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“I need it to be real. With you - if we - can we pretend it’s real?”

You stop breathing, his words clanging through your mind. “What do you mean?”

The words. He can’t get the words out. His body is on fire. He’s the Night Court’s spy master, for Cauldron’s sake.

And he can’t fucking move. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

“This isn’t how I ever would have imagined our first time.”

“But you’ve imagined it?”

“Gods, yes.”

You step closer, your hand reaching out towards him. You look into his eyes, wanting to know that it’s okay. All you find in response is pleading. Your hands lightly touch the buckles of his armor, and he gasps, his movements in his pants growing faster at your touch.

A man starved. He gazes up at the ceiling, tears about to leak from his eyes at this entire impossible situation. You were going to ruin him. You were going to break his heart, and then have sex with him to keep this from driving him mad.

It was cruel. The mother was cruel for this.

“I’ve thought a lot about it too,” you whisper, your voice softly carrying through the room.

He whips his head down at you, watching your fingers undo his straps. Your touch cools his body, but not for long.

Desire roars through him, and it is taking every ounce of restraint not to rip off your clothes and take you. He’s fighting the primal instincts that the pollen targets, his hands itching to touch you, to ravish you, opting to focus on your words.

“I always wanted you to confess your undying love for me,” you chuckle, “or, sometimes when I’m alone in the middle of the night, touching myself to you.”

A strangled sob escapes his throat at your words, causing him to notice his surroundings for a second. He can smell you, and it pushes him even further in need.

He can’t stop his hips from moving forward, meeting your own. His hand retracts from his pants, wrapping around you instead to pull you closer. Every word from you causes his resolve to crumble just a bit more as his hips grind against yours.

You were a bit breathless at the action, so you say, “when I’m feeling romantic, you tell me you can’t dare to be away from me for another moment, and you need me.”

A snarl breaks from his lips, causing your arousal to deepen. You are soaked, likely through your leathers.

“But when I’m just needy, I like to imagine you hearing me moaning your name through the door, and you burst in, claiming me as yours.”

His mouth opens as he moans, and you push the fabric of his leathers off his chest, raking your nails down his torso.

“Gods,” he exhales, “I-“

You cut him off, needing to get the words and fantasies you kept so deeply buried out there, future consequences be damned.

“I need you,” you whisper, “I’ve needed you for a long time.”

You were well aware of how much pain he was in trying to delay this for as long as possible.

His eyes are closed as your fingers slide down to the strings of his leathers. You don’t let yourself think too much about what you’re doing, about how the flight home will be, about how after this your teeny, tiny crush on him will be blown out exponentially worse.

Your fingers gently undo the ties, and his hips seek out the heat of your hands, begging for the friction they could provide.

You slide his pants down, his hard, throbbing cock springing free at the loss of its confines. Your mouth dries a bit at the size of him and the blood rushing to both your cheeks and between your hips.

You look from his cock to his face, teeth clenched in restraint.

His eyes open to yours at the sound of your leathers unbuckling, a soft, “no” hitting your ears.

“Azriel,” you start, but a moan escapes him at his name on your tongue.

He starts chanting your name like a prayer, over and over, a cadence to his chantings as you peel off the top of your leathers, exposing the expanse of skin underneath.

The chanting continues as you pull off the bra you wore, baring your chest to him completely. His hand wraps around his cock, the tip already angrily leaking in desperation.

The chanting picks up in tempo as you undo the strings of your own pants, eyes not straying from his as he strokes himself to your half-naked form. You push your pants down, pushing your underwear down as well, pulling them off with your boots, kicking your discarded clothes into a corner.

You walk back towards him, the sounds of his stroking and panting utterly sinful through the room. His breath hitches as you near him, reaching a hand out towards his cock.

“May I?” You ask, and you want to laugh at the formality of it, if you weren’t terrified of him saying no.

He nods lightly, his throat bobbing, and your fingers graze his as you grab onto his cock, wrapping your hand around it. His wings spread out at your grasp, head tilting back.

You take the opportunity to kiss his neck, and his grip on the desk is turning his knuckles white.

Your strokes don’t slow down, and it’s not until now that you feel just how wet you are. You feel bad, your arousal a byproduct of the state he’s in. He can’t help his arousal, but you can help yours.

You don’t let the shame linger for too long as you spread your palm across his chest, pushing him down onto the desk, crawling on top of him as he sinks lower.

His back hits the desk, his large membranous wings spread out behind him. Having him laid out beneath you, you allow yourself a few seconds to take in just how beautiful he was.

His tattoos covered his shoulders, making parts of his skin blend in with the darkness of the desk beneath him. His mouth parted slightly, head tilted back towards the skies, as if asking the heavens to watch your sinful acts.

You climb on top of him, the heat of your body driving him mad with desire.

“Is this okay?” You ask, trepidation coating your words.

“Gods, yes,” he replies, knowing he shouldn’t let this happen, but unable to stop himself. You’re hovering over his cock, the organ twitching as it feels just how close you are to sinking onto him.

The guilt is tampered down by the ever-growing need in his brain to breed, breed, breed. It was absolutely vile whatever these experiments were, but holy gods did it unlock a level of primal need he didn’t think existed.

His hands find your hips, and he can’t control how harshly he pulls you down onto his cock, a sharp inhale coming from you in the painful stretch.

He winces at the noise, but you stop him from allowing self-doubt to run through his head as you lean down and kiss him.

He moans into your mouth, his deep, harsh thrusts making the kiss nothing but teeth clacking and wet noises. Your nails dig into his skin as you keep grinding up and down on his cock, every thrust seemingly feeling deeper and deeper inside of you.

He keeps chanting your name, over and over, into your mouth, and you change the pace of your thrusts to coincide with it. His hands smooth over your hips, gliding up to your breasts. His fingers pinch your nipples, causing your back to arch around his touch.

You know he can’t hold out much longer - he’s painfully close, and so are you. Your stomach’s in knots, desperate for more, more, more. You reach out a gentle hand, caressing the nail on his wing. His eyes shoot open, wings flaring out as he gasps, emptying himself into you.

It causes the same effect in you, the both of you finishing at the same time. His thrusts slowed down, but he kept his tight grip on your hips. You can feel the pads of his fingers digging into your skin, leaving small bruises in their wake. Your foreheads are together, panting as he holds you for a moment.

For one glimmer of a moment, he’s holding onto you, sweat glistening on both of your bodies.

Status report.

Rhys’s voice fills your mind through the tiny opening in your mind you allow him to correspond with you in. You can tell Azriel is getting the same message as his eyes lose their shine, a glossy effect taking over them.

With a heavy heart, you pull off of Azriel, unable to respond to Rhys while his brother’s cock was still inside of you. You start pulling your leathers back on, covering the fluids and marks littering your body - the only proof of what just happened between you two.

The air is tense as Azriel dresses, still speaking with Rhysand. After a moment, his voice comes out, cold and detached.

“Let’s go,” he says, walking out of the room without another word, an icy air following him. Your gaze follows him out the door, before looking around the room.

The stench of sex is in the air, but there’s almost a hint of pain in the aroma. The air is suffocating you - you have to leave, you have to follow Az.

You look to the ceiling to stop the tears from falling. Your eyes turn down to gaze at your feet as you slowly trudge out of the room, knowing you likely just ruined your most important friendship.

Part two