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"You must be insane if you think I'm letting you take my children to a war camp."
The laugh that left me was sharp and disbelieving, the kind that came when something was so absurd it barely deserved a real response.
Before me, Seraphina and Dorian sat in their little chairs, babbling happily, utterly unaware that their parents were teetering on the edge of an argument. Applesauce dotted Dorian's chin. Seraphina smacked her hands together, delighted every time the spoon appeared.
Cassian sat across from me, sleeves rolled up, feeding Dorian with exaggerated patience.
"Our children," he corrected mildly, though there was tension in the set of his jaw.
I shot him a look, narrowly intercepting Seraphina's chubby fist as she made a grab for the bowl. "Don't get clever with me, General."
He exhaled through his nose, smiling at Seraphina as if she hadn't just tried to steal half her meal. "I'm not being clever. I'm being serious."
That alone made my stomach tighten.
"There are individuals at Windhaven who deserve to see them," he continued. "A few of them."
I stilled.
"A few warriors?" I asked slowly, eyebrows arching. "In a camp where training rings are stained with blood and the air smells like sweat and steel?"
His eyes flicked to mine. "You're making it sound like I'm going to toss them into a ring and make them fight."
"You're the one who said camp," I shot back. "Not Velaris. Not a garden. Not a quiet visit. A war camp."
His jaw clenched. "It was my home."
"And it's not theirs," I replied, sharper now.
Seraphina chose that moment to squeal happily, flapping her wings and smearing applesauce across her tray. Dorian laughed, copying her. I cleaned them automatically, hands steady even as something uneasy twisted in my chest.
"They're half Illyrian," Cassian said. "They should know where they come from."
"They're babies," I snapped. "They barely know their own feet."
He leaned back in his chair, spoon clinking against the bowl. "I'm not talking about leaving them there. I'm talking about a visit. A few hours."
"A few hours surrounded by warriors who think scars are blessings and pain is a lesson," I said. "A few hours in a place that's never been safe for anyone who didn't bleed for it."
"That's not fair," he said tightly.
"Isn't it?" I countered. "Because last I checked, Windhaven isn't exactly known for its gentleness."
He opened his mouth, then closed it, frustration flickering across his face. "Not everyone there is the enemy."
"I know that," I said, voice rising despite myself. "But not everyone there is safe either."
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
Cassian's gaze softened just a little. "There are a handful of warriors," he said quietly. "Those who protected me when I was small. Those who never raised a hand against me when they could've. They've earned the right to see my children."
My children. The possessive ache flared sharp and hot.
"And what about the ones who didn't protect you?" I asked. "The ones who hurt you. The ones who taught you that pain was the price of survival."
His shoulders stiffened.
"You think I'd let anything happen to them?" he demanded. "I'd die before that."
"I know you would," I said fiercely. "And that's exactly why this scares me."
He stood abruptly, chair scraping back. "You don't trust me."
I pushed to my feet too, heart pounding. "That's not true."
"Then what is it?" he asked, wings flexing slightly. "Because it feels like you're saying I come from something dirty. Something unfit for them."
"That's not what I'm saying," I insisted, though my voice shook now. "I'm saying I don't want my babies anywhere near a place that taught you to survive instead of live."
His eyes darkened. "They're strong," he said. "They're Illyrian. They'll be stronger than either of us."
"I don't want strength if it costs them safety," I snapped. "I don't want scars. I don't want lessons learned through fear."
"They won't be afraid," he said.
"I am," I admitted.
The words hung there, raw and exposed.
Seraphina babbled, sensing the shift. Dorian reached for me, little hands grasping. I scooped him up without thinking, pressing him to my chest, grounding myself in his warmth.
"I carried them," I said softly but fiercely. "I brought them into this world. And I will not let that world hurt them—not for tradition, not for pride, not for anyone."
Cassian stared at me, chest rising and falling, torn between anger and understanding.
Time passed, minutes, maybe longer. The twins grew restless, Seraphina gnawing on her fingers, Dorian pressing his cheek against my collarbone.
The sharp edge of my fear dulled, just enough for the ache beneath it to show through.
I exhaled slowly.
"I know Windhaven matters to you," I said at last, quieter now. "I know there are parts of your life I'll never fully understand. I just—" My throat tightened. "I spent months terrified of losing them before they were even born. That fear doesn't disappear just because they're here."
Cassian's shoulders sagged, tension bleeding out of him as he stepped closer.
"I don't want to scare you," he said gently. "And I would never put them in danger. I swear it to you."
I studied his face, the honesty there, the fierce certainty.
This was the same male who'd stood vigil through sleepless nights, who flinched at their cries faster than I did, who would tear the world apart before letting harm come to them.
"It'll really be fine?" I asked carefully.
"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I'll be there. Every second."
I hesitated, then nodded once. "Alright. But I'm coming too."
Relief flashed across his face so quickly it made my chest ache. "Of course."
A beat passed. "So," I added carefully, shifting Dorian higher on my hip, "how exactly are we getting there?"
Cassian blinked. "I'll fly us."
I stared at him. "All three of us?" I asked sweetly.
He frowned. "What are you implying?"
I tilted my head, lips curving into a slow smirk. "I don't know. That's a lot to carry."
For a heartbeat he looked offended, then realisation dawned. His bark of laughter filled the room. "Oh, now you're just being cruel."
I laughed too, the tension finally breaking as Seraphina squealed in delight at the sound. Cassian stepped in close, slipping an arm around my waist and pressing a kiss to my temple.
"You have no idea how easy it'll be," he said smugly.
"Mmh," I replied, unconvinced. "We'll see, General."
His grin widened, and just like that, the warmth returned, fear eased, replaced by teasing and trust and the quiet certainty that, together, we'd figure it out.
The next morning dawned clear and sharp, the sky painted in soft blues and pale gold as Cassian carried us into the air.
I'd barely slept, nerves buzzing beneath my skin but Cassian had been steady and sure, one arm securely around me, the other braced beneath the twins.
Seraphina squealed at the rush of wind, utterly delighted.
Dorian clutched at Cassian's leathers with fierce concentration, wings twitching like he might join in at any moment.
"See?" Cassian called over the wind, laughing. "Easy."
I huffed, tightening my hold around Seraphina. "I reserve the right to panic later."
Windhaven appeared below us soon after, stone and iron and wide-open space carved into the mountainside. My stomach flipped as we descended, boots touching solid ground at last.
The moment we landed, I inhaled deeply, steadying myself.
The air smelled different here, clean, sharp, edged with steel and sweat. Warriors paused mid-step, heads turning as Cassian straightened, wings flaring slightly in instinctive pride.
Before my anxiety could return full force, I leaned in and pressed a kiss to Seraphina's soft hair, then to Dorian's temple.
"Be good," I murmured, smiling despite myself. "Don't terrorise your father."
Cassian snorted. "They get that from you."
"I'm going to find Emerie," I said quickly, already stepping back. "You've got them."
He raised a brow. "You're just abandoning me?"
"With confidence," I replied, grinning. "You wanted this."
Seraphina babbled happily as I handed her over, Dorian watching me with wide eyes until I blew him a kiss. Then I turned and walked away, the sound of Cassian's laughter following me across the training grounds.
For the first time since arriving, my shoulders loosened.
Cassian's POV -
Seraphina and Dorian watched the world with bright, unblinking eyes, taking in everything at once.
The clang of steel rang through the camp, sharp and rhythmic. The air was thick with sweat and iron and old blood baked into stone.
For a moment, just a moment, I wondered if I'd made a mistake bringing them here at all.
But then Dorian babbled happily, wings twitching in excitement at the sound, and Seraphina pressed her face into my chest with a curious little hum instead of fear.
They weren't afraid.
My mate had barely left us ten minutes ago, already vanishing between the rows of stone buildings with purpose in her step. She trusted me enough to come here and trusted me enough to walk away when she needed space.
That trust settled heavy and sacred in my chest.
I adjusted my hold on the twins instinctively, wings shifting to shield them without conscious thought.
As if summoned by our presence, a small group of warriors approached.
Some I knew well, males who had fought beside me, bled beside me, males who had earned my respect through years of loyalty and restraint.
Others were strangers, newer faces who straightened the moment they realised who stood before them.
Their gazes dropped immediately to the babies. Conversation died.
Seraphina blinked up at the nearest warrior, studying him with solemn interest before offering a gummy smile. Dorian followed suit, babbling like he had something important to announce.
A few of the males softened instantly.
"Well I'll be damned," one murmured, shaking his head with a grin. "Didn't think I'd live to see the day."
Another chuckled. "They've got your eyes."
"Poor things," a third added laughing. "Already doomed."
I snorted. "Watch it."
Laughter rippled through the group, light and respectful. I introduced the ones I trusted, names spoken carefully, deliberately. These were males I'd bled with. Males who knew better than to cross certain lines.
They leaned in just enough to look, never touching without permission.
Seraphina reached for one of them. Dorian kicked happily. Pride swelled in my chest.
Then I heard it. Soft. Almost lost beneath the noise of the camp. A whisper meant for another male's ear.
"Shame about the girl's wings," the voice muttered. "Too large already. She'll be clipped eventually."
The world went very, very still.
I didn't turn right away. Didn't blink. Didn't breathe. Every instinct in me sharpened into something lethal and cold.
I shifted the twins higher against my chest, wings flaring wide and protective, an unconscious act, ancient and territorial. Seraphina startled slightly, then settled when she felt my heartbeat quicken. Dorian went quiet.
I turned slowly.
The male who'd spoken froze. He was young. Not a boy but not seasoned either. His eyes widened as he realised I'd heard every word.
I stepped forward. Once. The air around us changed.
"You want to repeat that?" I asked calmly. Too calmly.
The warrior swallowed. "I—I was just saying—"
I cut him off with a look so sharp it stole the rest of his sentence.
"You do not speak about my daughter's wings," I said quietly. "Not now. Not ever."
A hush fell over the group. The older warriors stiffened, recognising the tone. Some stepped back instinctively.
"I don't care what you think is tradition," I continued, each word measured and lethal. "I don't care what was done to you in this camp."
I took another step closer.
"If anyone—anyone—so much as thinks about laying a blade near my children, I will end them."
No shouting. No theatrics. Just truth.
Seraphina whimpered softly, sensing the shift in me. I immediately softened, pressing my cheek to her hair, murmuring under my breath until she relaxed again.
Then I looked back at the male.
"You do not whisper about clipping," I said, voice deadly quiet, "and you do not whisper around me."
His face had gone pale. "I didn't mean—"
"I know exactly what you meant," I snapped, temper flaring now. "And you're lucky my mate isn't here to hear it."
Because if she had been, there would've been blood.
I straightened, wings settling back into place as I turned away from him entirely, dismissing him with my back.
The message was clear.
I kissed Seraphina's brow, then Dorian's, my voice low and steady as I murmured, "You are perfect. Exactly as you are."
The flight home was quiet. Too quiet.
Seraphina slept tucked beneath my chin, her tiny breaths warm against my throat. Dorian dozed in the crook of my arm, fingers curled into my leathers like he was anchoring himself to me. The wind rushed past my wings, steady and familiar, but my thoughts refused to settle.
I replayed it all, the whisper, the way my blood had gone cold, the instinctive fury that had risen so fast it scared even me.
I'd seen that look before. On myself, years ago. On boys who'd learned too early what Windhaven expected of them.
I clenched my jaw.
Below us, the mountains rolled by, vast and unforgiving. Ahead, Velaris waited, warm, bright, safe.
When I finally landed on the balcony, my mate turned toward me, arms folded loosely, concern written plainly across her face the moment she took in my expression.
"Hey," she said softly.
I didn't answer right away. I carefully passed Seraphina to her, then Dorian, lingering an extra second to make sure they were settled, breathing evenly, unharmed.
Only then did I straighten.
"I'm sorry," I said immediately. The words came out rougher than I intended. "You were right. I should've listened to you."
Her brows knit together in surprise. "Cassian—"
"I let my pride get in the way," I continued, the admission scraping my throat raw. "I thought I could control everything just by being there. I thought... I don't know what I thought."
She studied me quietly, rocking Seraphina as Dorian stirred against her shoulder.
"There was a male," I added, voice dropping. "He said something about Seraphina's wings. About clipping."
Her entire body went still. "Oh," she said, softly. Dangerously.
I exhaled. "I shut it down. Immediately. But the fact that it was said at all—" My hands curled into fists at my sides. "That's on me."
She was quiet for a long moment. Then she sighed, not angry, not sharp. Just tired.
"The babies loved it," she said finally.
I blinked. "They—what?"
"They weren't afraid," she went on gently. "They were curious. They were happy. They deserve to know that part of themselves. Where they come from." She met my eyes then, gaze steady and sure. "And I also know—without a doubt that you would protect them with everything in you."
The tight knot in my chest loosened just a little.
"I would," I said hoarsely. "There's nothing I wouldn't burn for them."
She smiled faintly. "I know."
She stepped closer, resting her forehead against my chest, the twins nestled safely between us. I wrapped my wings around all three of them without thinking, sheltering them from the world out of pure instinct.
"We'll choose when and how," she murmured. "Together."
I nodded, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Together."
A/N - I'm a little iffy about this part because I wasn't sure if some of it drifted too far into OOC territory, but we're rolling with it for now!!
Mostly I wanted to show Cassian's overprotective side as a father especially when it comes to Seraphina and Dorian and how deeply his own past affects the way he sees their future. He'd burn down an entire mountain range for those babies and honestly... he probably came very close here x
the titles and covers for acotar 6 and 7 were just revealed, along with a few blurbs!!!!! im so excited just wanted to hear ur thoughts and opinions on it boo :)
ahh i’m so so excited—i haven’t had a chance to read the full blurbs yet but ive seen a few snippets and theories with the spiders and im locked in 😝😝
still wished they matched the other books visually though but i’ll take what i can get x
this was sent 3 minutes ago asw but i feel so giddy that we can all finally talk about it thank you for thinking of me MWAH
Mission briefings usually had me wanting to pull my hair out.
Endless strategy. Endless debate. Endless males talking in circles like the fate of the world hinged on who phrased the same idea differently.
Maps, reports, plans that could have been summarised in half the time if anyone had the courage to admit they enjoyed the sound of their own voice a little too much.
Altogether mind-numbingly boring.
I had perfected the art of enduring them. Nodding at the right moments, pretending to care, occasionally offering something just insightful enough to remind them I wasn't decoration.
Today? Today was different. Today's briefing involved me... and Azriel. Alone.
The others had filtered out slowly, one by one.
Cassian had lingered the longest, of course, grinning like he knew something I didn't, like he was waiting for a show. Mor had given me a look on her way out, all amusement and silent encouragement. Rhys had said nothing, which somehow felt far more suspicious.
And Azriel?
He had remained exactly where he was, seated at the table, shadows pooled lazily around him, attention fixed on the reports in front of him like the room hadn't just emptied, like the shift hadn't just happened. Like it didn't matter.
It did.
I felt it the moment the door shut behind the last of them. The quiet settled differently. Thicker. Heavier. More aware.
I leaned forward in my chair, elbows resting on the table, chin propped in my hands as I watched him openly, no reason to hide it now. No audience to perform for.
Just him. And me. And whatever this was.
"You get a crease between your brows when you're focused," I said, voice soft but carrying easily in the quiet room.
His eyes flicked up to mine. Quick. Sharp. Then back down again just as fast, like he'd touched something he shouldn't have.
"I'm aware," he said. Lie.
I smiled faintly.
The energy was different now. I didn't tone myself down, I never did but without the laughter, without Cassian's commentary or Mor's encouragement, it felt... sharper. More deliberate. Like every word landed with more weight.
Less like a game. More like something else.
"Oh, come on, Azzie," I pouted lightly, tilting my head. "Don't ignore me."
"I'm not ignoring you," he replied, though he shifted slightly in his seat, the movement small but telling.
I watched that, too. Of course I did.
Because if there was one thing I'd learned about Azriel, it was that the smallest reactions meant the most. A glance. A pause. The way his fingers stilled on the page for half a second too long.
He was trying to stay composed. He always did.
But here, now, there was no one else to divide his attention. No one else to hide behind.
And I could feel it. The way his awareness tracked me. Not obvious, not enough that anyone else would notice.
But I did.
I saw the way his gaze lifted just slightly when I shifted in my chair. The way his shoulders went subtly taut when I stretched my arms overhead, slow and deliberate. The way his shadows reacted before he did.
Hyper-aware. Of everything. Of me.
I let the silence stretch just long enough to make it noticeable... then pushed to my feet.
He didn't look up this time but his shadows did.
They shifted along the floor as I moved, curling faintly in my direction like they were drawn to something they didn't quite understand.
Interesting.
I rounded the table slowly, unhurried, letting the soft sound of my steps fill the space between us. Letting him hear me coming. Letting him anticipate it.
He didn't stop reading. Didn't acknowledge me. But the line of his shoulders tightened ever so slightly.
I stopped beside him. Close. Too close, by most standards.
Then, without asking, without hesitating, I slipped between him and the table and perched against its edge, facing him. The wood pressed against the back of my thighs as I leaned into it casually, bringing us eye to eye.
Now he had no choice. His gaze lifted. Met mine. Held.
"There you are," I murmured, a small smile tugging at my lips. "I was starting to think I'd lost you to your reports."
"You didn't," he said.
His voice was steady. Too steady.
"What's a female got to do to get some attention around here?" I asked, softer now, letting my tone dip into something more intimate, more deliberate.
Before he could answer, I let my hand drift, light, almost absent-minded, as I trailed a single finger down the front of his chest.
Not fast. Not teasing. Slow. Intentional.
I felt it immediately. The way he went still beneath my touch. The sharp inhale he didn't quite manage to hide. The subtle shift in the air around us as his shadows reacted, detaching from him in soft, startled wisps like they'd been caught off guard. Like he had.
A shiver ran through him. Small but unmistakable. My smile deepened.
"Your shadows don't like that?" I asked, glancing at the tendrils curling uncertainly around us.
His gaze didn't leave mine this time. Not even for a second.
"Did they tell you that?" he asked.
There was something different in his voice now. Quieter. Rougher. Not defensive. Not entirely controlled.
I tilted my head slightly, studying him, really studying him this time.
The tension in his jaw. The way his fingers had curled slightly against the table. The way his shadows hovered, restless, undecided.
"Oh, they don't have to," I said softly. "They're very expressive."
One of them brushed lightly against my wrist. Curious. I didn't pull away. If anything, I leaned in just a fraction closer.
"And you?" I added, voice barely above a whisper now. "Are you going to tell me you don't like it either?"
There it was. The line. Not crossed but close. Very close.
His jaw tightened.
For a moment, I thought he might deflect. Retreat. Slip back into that carefully constructed control he wore so well.
Instead he leaned back slightly in his chair, just enough to put a breath of space between us. Not far. Never far enough.
"You're distracting," he said. Not a denial. Not even close.
I smiled, slow and satisfied. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
"Mmh," I hummed, unconvinced. My fingers hadn't moved from where they rested against his chest, tracing idle, absent patterns like I had all the time in the world. "We'll see about that."
His shadows tightened subtly around him, then loosened again, like they couldn't decide whether to pull him away or keep him exactly where he was.
Neither, in the end. Just like him.
And maybe that was my answer.
Maybe that hesitation, that push and pull, that silent conflict he never voiced was the very thing that made me lean in instead of back away.
So I did. I doubled my efforts. Not abruptly. Not carelessly. No, if this was a game, I knew how to play it well.
Slowly, deliberately, I let my hand drift higher. My fingers traced an idle path up the solid line of his chest, over the fabric, feeling the subtle rise and fall of his breathing beneath my touch. Not rushed. Never rushed. I let it linger, let it mean something, even if I pretended it didn't.
His gaze followed the movement this time. Not pretending otherwise. Not looking away.
Every inch I moved, I could feel his awareness sharpen, like a blade being drawn, quiet and precise.
Good. I wanted him aware. I wanted him present.
My hand slid higher, past his shoulder, until my fingers hovered, just barely, at the place where skin met wing.
There was a pause. A breath. A choice.
I smiled faintly. Then I let my fingers brush against his wing. Light. Playful. Curious.
The reaction was immediate. He bristled, his entire body going rigid in a way that was different from before. Not the controlled stillness I'd grown used to, not the quiet tension he tried to hide.
This was sharper. Instinctive.
His wings shifted under my touch, just slightly, the movement controlled but unmistakable. His shadows snapped tighter around him, coiling close like they'd been yanked back on a leash.
And then—
"Do you ever stop?"
The words came out low. Not raised. Not harsh. They weren't calm, either. They were breathless.
That was what caught me. Not the question. Not even the tone.
It was the way it sounded like it had been pulled out of him rather than chosen. Like it had slipped through the cracks in that iron control of his before he could catch it.
I blinked. Actually blinked.
For the first time since this had started, surprise flickered through me, quick and bright because that wasn't the reaction I'd expected. Not fully.
I'd expected resistance. Maybe a sharper edge. A warning, even. Not this. Not something that sounded so... affected. So real.
My fingers stilled against his wing, but I didn't pull them away. Not yet.
Instead, I studied him. Really studied him.
The tension in his jaw was deeper now, more pronounced. His breathing, not uneven, not quite but heavier than it had been a moment ago. His gaze held mine, unwavering, but there was something in it now that hadn't been there before.
Not just restraint. Something warmer. Something dangerously close to breaking.
And that was new.
Slowly, something shifted in my expression. The teasing didn't vanish, not entirely, it never did but it softened, sharpened into something more curious. More intent. More aware.
"Oh," I said quietly, almost thoughtful.
Not mocking. Not playful in the same way. Just... noticing.
"That's different."
His shadows stirred again, restless, brushing against the edges of the table, the floor, like they didn't know where to settle anymore.
Like he didn't.
I tilted my head slightly, my fingers still resting lightly against the edge of his wing, not moving but not retreating either.
"Do you want me to stop?" I asked.
The question hung between us. Simple but not. Not really.
Because for the first time since this had started, I wasn't entirely sure I knew the answer. And I had a feeling, neither did he.
The air between us had changed.
It wasn't light anymore. Not easy. Not something to laugh off or brush aside with another comment, another teasing remark.
It was heavier now. Charged.
Like something had been uncovered that neither of us had meant to reveal.
Azriel's POV -
I had to compose myself.
That, if anyone asked, was the reason I left the mission briefing room so abruptly, muttering some half-formed excuse about needing to check something, needing air, needing—
Something. Anything.
It had sounded wrong the moment it left my mouth. Even I had heard it. Even I had known it wouldn't hold under scrutiny.
But I hadn't stayed long enough for anyone to question it because I couldn't. Because she—
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face as I walked, my steps quicker than usual, more purposeful than I cared to admit.
She had touched my wings. My wings.
The thought hit again, vivid and unrelenting, as if my mind refused to let it pass quietly. I could still feel it, the ghost of her fingers brushing along that sensitive edge, light and curious and entirely unaware of what it did to me.
Or perhaps she was aware.
That was the problem. That was always the problem with her. Nothing she did ever felt accidental.
My jaw tightened. The sensation had been—
I stopped walking. No. I wasn't going to finish that thought.
I shook my head once, sharply, as if that might dislodge it, might clear the way her voice lingered, the way her touch seemed to echo beneath my skin.
It didn't. If anything, it made it worse.
A cold swim. That was what I needed. Not space. Not distance. Cold. Something sharp enough to cut through it.
The air bit at my skin as I made my way toward the lake just beyond the house, the quiet there a stark contrast to the warmth I'd just left behind. The surface of the water was still and glass-like beneath the light, reflecting nothing but shadow.
Good.
I didn't hesitate. I stripped off my leathers in quick, efficient movements, discarding them carelessly along the bank before stepping into the water.
The cold hit immediately, sharp and unforgiving, climbing up my legs, seeping into muscle and bone.
Grounding. Necessary.
I kept moving until the water reached my waist, then my chest, until there was no warmth left to cling to, until the cold forced every breath into something measured, controlled.
I submerged fully.
For a moment, there was nothing. No thoughts. No memory. No her. Just silence and cold and the steady pressure of water closing over my head.
I stayed there longer than needed.
Then surfaced, walking out and dragging in a breath as droplets slid down my face, my hair, my shoulders. The water was mid-thigh now. The chill settled deep, dulling the sharp edge of everything that had been building beneath my skin.
Almost enough. Almost.
My shadows slipped free of me, drifting low across the surface of the lake, weaving through the water like dark ribbons. Restless, but calmer than before.
I let my head tilt back slightly, exhaling through my nose, forcing my breathing to steady.
Control. That was all this was. A lapse. A moment. Nothing more.
A low whistle cut through the quiet.
I went still. Then turned sharply toward the sound.
Cassian stood at the edge of the lake, arms crossed, entirely too comfortable for someone who had clearly just stumbled upon something he had no business witnessing.
His grin was immediate. Wide. Dangerous.
His gaze dropped. Slowly. Deliberately. Settling between my legs... and to the very obvious problem I had.
I followed it instinctively and immediately cursed under my breath. Of course.
Cassian doubled over in laughter. Not a quiet chuckle. Not even close. Full, unrestrained laughter, the kind that echoed across the water and made it very clear he would never let this go.
I growled, baring my teeth slightly as my shadows snapped back toward me, coiling instinctively to shield what they could.
Too late. Far too late.
He wiped at his eyes, still laughing. "Oh, that is—that is unbelievable."
"Shut up," I bit out, stepping backwards into deeper water, the cold biting harder now, though it did little to help.
"Az—" he tried, only to break off into another laugh, bending at the waist again. "You're in a cold lake. And you have a hard on! You have to tell me what—"
"Stop," I warned, voice low.
He straightened slowly, though the grin didn't fade in the slightest. "You have a problem," he said, far too cheerfully. "A very obvious one."
I said nothing. Mostly because there was nothing to say.
"And let me guess," he continued, pacing lazily along the edge of the water like this was the most entertaining thing he'd seen all week. "This has nothing to do with the mission briefing you just ran out of?"
Silence.
His grin widened. "Oh, it absolutely does."
"Cassian."
"What did she do?" he pressed, leaning forward slightly, interest sharp now. "Because I've seen you take a hit without flinching, I've seen you sit through interrogations without blinking, and somehow—somehow—she gets you like this?"
I clenched my jaw. "Nothing happened."
He stared at me. Then barked out another laugh. "Right," he said. "And I just wandered out here for the scenery."
"Go away."
"Not until you tell me."
"Then you'll be here a while."
Cassian considered that, tilting his head. Then, with exaggerated patience, he crossed his arms again. "I've got time."
I exhaled slowly through my nose. He wasn't leaving. Of course he wasn't.
"She touched my wings," I said finally.
The words felt heavier than they should have.
Cassian blinked. Once. Then his expression shifted, not to confusion, not entirely but to something far more entertained.
"Oh," he said slowly. "Ohhh."
I regretted saying anything at all.
"That's it?" he asked, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer to the question he was asking.
I didn't respond. Didn't need to.
His grin turned downright wicked. "Gods, you're worse than I thought."
I shot him a look. "You don't understand."
"Oh, I understand perfectly," he said, holding up a hand. "You've got the most confident, relentless female in the Night Court focusing all her attention on you, and instead of shutting it down like a normal male, you're—" he gestured vaguely toward the lake, toward me, toward the entire situation—"this."
"It's not that simple."
"It is that simple."
"It's not."
Cassian studied me for a moment, the humour in his expression softening just slightly, not gone, never gone, but tempered. "You could stop her," he said.
The same words Rhys had used. The same truth.
I looked away, gaze settling on the dark surface of the water. "I know."
"Then why don't you?"
The question lingered. Simple. Direct. Impossible to answer without saying more than I intended to.
I didn't respond.
Cassian watched me for a moment longer, then huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah," he said. "That's what I thought."
I glanced back at him, irritation flickering but he only smirked.
"You're in trouble, brother."
"I'm not."
"Mmh," he hummed, entirely unconvinced. "Keep telling yourself that."
Without waiting for a response, he turned, already walking away, though not before tossing one last glance over his shoulder.
"And for the record?" he added, grin returning in full force. "Cold water's not going to save you from her."
Then he was gone. Just like that.
Leaving me alone again with the lake, the cold, and the lingering echo of everything I was trying and failing to ignore.
A/N - So they're finally alone... no audience, no interruptions, and she still can't resist flirting with him. In fact, she kicks it up a notch. What starts as her usual teasing leads to a reaction she definitely wasn't expecting, very interesting xx
Azriel does what any completely unaffected male would do and goes for a nice, totally normal swim to "cool off." Unfortunately for him, fate (and me) had other plans because Cassian appears at the worst possible moment. As always!!
I'm not letting this poor male catch a break anytime soon :)
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It’s super late where I live and I was thinking as my mind continues to do so insistently preventing me from sleeping cause I’m a full time overthinker. I started thinking about your writing and I realized that I love the way you write your endings for your series. They feel finished, like nothing is missing even if they’re not super long series. Basically, I feel satisfied each time I finish any of your series, which I think makes it easier for rereading. I’m just left wanting more of your writing, not a specific story. I love how much variety you have in your work. Anyway, I hope you’re well and I love your writing.
stop it rn this is so sweet of you to say i appreciate it sm 🥹🫶🏼
i love love love happily ever afters so i always try to make sure my writing has polished off endings asw and im so glad you enjoy that xx
thank you for reading angel and sending this in it’s so kind <33
Seraphina and Dorian were much, much more aware now.
Gone were the days of sleepy, half-conscious bundles who did little more than eat and cry. In their place were two bright-eyed, babbling babies with wings that twitched when they laughed and hands that reached for everything.
Light. Fabric. Fingers. Hair. Cassian's wings were a particular favourite, Dorian especially seemed convinced they were toys placed in the world solely for his entertainment.
They laughed now. Real, belly-deep giggles that made my chest ache with love.
And they watched us.
That was the strangest, most wonderful part, those wide, curious eyes tracking every movement, every expression, like they were learning the world by studying us.
By now, both of them had started saying mama and dada.
Which, naturally, had turned into a debate.
Cassian insisted that their first word had been dada. He claimed he'd heard it clear as day, bold and proud, practically shouted in his direction like a victory cry.
I, on the other hand, knew in my soul it had been Mama.
I remembered the day clearly. We'd been on the floor of the sitting room, sunlight spilling in through the windows, blankets strewn everywhere.
Seraphina was propped against my legs, happily chewing on her own fist, while Dorian lay between Cassian's wings, kicking and babbling like he had something very important to say.
Cassian had been making ridiculous faces, truly unhinged ones, crossing his eyes, sticking out his tongue, doing anything to coax a laugh.
"Dada," he'd said slowly, tapping his own chest. "Da-da. Come on, you can do it."
Dorian had blinked at him. Once. Twice. Then—
"Mmm... ma."
I had frozen. Cassian had frozen. Seraphina, traitor that she was, had chosen that moment to chirp something that sounded suspiciously like agreement.
My heart had leapt into my throat. "You heard that, right?" I whispered, already grinning.
Cassian frowned. "That was not Mama."
"That was absolutely mama," I shot back. "Clear as day."
He scoffed. "He was warming up. That was a practice sound."
"A practice sound," I repeated flatly.
"Yes," he said seriously. "For dada."
As if summoned by the argument, Seraphina had suddenly looked up at me, eyes bright, and very clearly said, "Ma."
I may have made a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
Cassian had stared at her, betrayed. "They're ganging up on me."
"They're intelligent," I'd corrected sweetly.
He'd groaned, flopping back dramatically. "Unbelievable. I carry them around on my wings, I lose sleep, I change them—"
"You complain while changing them," I reminded him.
"And this is how I'm repaid."
Now, months later, the debate still hadn't truly ended.
Seraphina liked to say mama when she was tired or hungry, her little hands reaching for me like she already understood I was home.
Dorian, on the other hand, said dada whenever Cassian entered the room, voice loud and proud, wings fluttering as if he were calling his general to attention.
Cassian took that as proof. I took Seraphina's sleepy murmurs as mine.
Sometimes they said both words in the same breath, watching us with far too much interest, like they knew exactly what they were doing.
And maybe they did.
As I watched them now, Seraphina babbling happily, Dorian grinning up at Cassian, I felt something warm and steady settle in my chest.
That warmth stayed with me through the evening.
It followed us into dinner, into the long table filled with familiar voices and clinking plates, into the soft chaos that had become our new normal.
Because dinner time, proper dinner time, with the whole family had turned into a battle.
Not between us. Between me and the twins.
Seraphina sat in her little chair beside me, wings fluttering excitedly as soon as she spotted my plate. Dorian mirrored her from Cassian's side, both of them suddenly laser-focused on my food as if they'd been starving for days rather than fed barely an hour ago.
I took one bite. One. A tiny hand shot out immediately.
"Absolutely not," I said gently, intercepting Seraphina's fingers just before they landed in my vegetables. "This is not for babies."
She blinked up at me, wide-eyed and deeply offended, then opened her mouth in what was very clearly an attempt at negotiation.
"Mama," she said sweetly.
I sighed. "That's manipulation."
Across the table, Mor laughed into her wine. "She's learned early."
Dorian chose that moment to lean as far as his little body would allow, stretching toward my plate with impressive determination. His fingers brushed the edge, and he made a triumphant noise like he'd just conquered a mountain.
"Dorian," I scolded softly, nudging him back. "You just ate."
Cassian, traitor that he was, grinned proudly. "See? Strong instincts. They know good fuel when they see it."
"They know my food," I shot back.
Azriel watched with quiet amusement as I tried to juggle my fork, Seraphina's wandering hands, and Dorian's determined lunges. "They're persistent," he observed mildly.
"That's one word for it," I muttered.
I lifted my plate slightly out of reach, only for Seraphina to pout dramatically, lower lip wobbling as if I'd committed some great injustice.
"Oh no," I said immediately. "Don't you dare."
Cassian leaned back in his chair, utterly unbothered. "Let them have a taste."
"No," I said firmly. "They have their food. This is adult food."
"They're going to eat everything eventually," he countered. "Might as well start now. Build muscle."
I shot him a look. "They do not need muscle at six months old."
"They've got Illyrian blood," he said proudly. "It's inevitable."
As if on cue, Dorian let out a happy squeal and slapped his hands against the table, wings flaring with excitement. Seraphina followed suit, the two of them babbling loudly, clearly delighted by the attention.
"They're ganging up on me," I accused.
Rhys, seated at the head of the table, smirked. "You're outnumbered."
"I've been outnumbered since the day they were born," I replied, though I couldn't stop smiling.
I tried again to take a bite only to feel Seraphina's fingers curl around the sleeve of my dress, tugging insistently.
"Sweetheart," I said patiently, "you cannot have this."
She tilted her head, studying me, then reached again, this time with both hands.
Cassian laughed outright. "That's my girl."
I turned on him. "Do not encourage her."
"I'm encouraging ambition."
Mor leaned over to peek at Seraphina. "What are you trying to steal, hm?"
Seraphina responded by blowing a raspberry and flapping her wings, clearly pleased with herself.
Dorian, meanwhile, had somehow managed to get his hands on a piece of bread Cassian hadn't noticed disappearing from his plate. He proudly shoved it toward his mouth, eyes sparkling with victory.
"Cassian," I hissed.
He looked down. Paused. Then burst out laughing. "Well I'll be damned."
I gently took the bread away, wiping Dorian's hands before he could protest too loudly. "You cannot just let them steal food."
Despite myself, I laughed. The sound felt easy, light, like it used to.
The table buzzed with conversation and warmth, with familiar faces and shared glances, with two babies who wanted nothing more than to be part of everything.
Even if that meant stealing from my plate.
As Seraphina leaned against me, babbling softly, and Dorian kicked happily in his chair, I looked around the table—at Cassian's proud grin, at our family watching them with fond amusement and felt that steady warmth deepen into something richer.
This was messy. Loud. Chaotic. And impossibly perfect.
Cassian's POV -
If there was something my children loved more than food and more than conspiring with me to annoy their mother—it was Azriel.
I didn't take it personally. Mostly.
Seraphina had been outraged about dessert. Truly affronted. Little fists clenched, wings twitching, a dramatic little wail building in her chest because her mother had dared to deny her a second reach toward the sweet dish on the table.
Which was why I'd been dispatched, banished, really, to pace the sitting room with a fussy baby while the rest of them finished eating.
"She just needs a minute," my mate had said sweetly, already spooning dessert onto plates.
A minute, my ass.
Seraphina squirmed in my arms, protesting her injustice to the world, when the door opened.
Azriel stepped inside. The crying stopped instantly.
I stared down at my daughter in disbelief as her little head snapped toward him, eyes lighting up like he was the answer to every problem she'd ever known.
Her wings fluttered wildly, hands reaching.
"Oh, now you stop crying," I muttered, tightening my grip as she tried to launch herself from my arms. "Unbelievable."
He hesitated, clearly unsure whether to approach or flee, but Seraphina made the decision for him by leaning as far out of my arms as possible, babbling happily.
Azriel took her with practised ease, settling her against his chest. She immediately grabbed onto the collar of his shirt like she'd always belonged there, snuggling in with a content little hum.
Traitor.
"She doesn't do that for me," I grumbled.
Azriel glanced down at her, something soft flickering across his face. "She was just tired."
"She was screaming."
"Yes," he agreed calmly. "But she's very reasonable."
I snorted.
That was when the door opened again. My mate stepped in, Dorian balanced against her hip, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on Azriel. His face lit up, mouth opening in a delighted gasp.
"Dada—" he paused, then corrected himself, "—Azzie."
Close enough.
Before I could warn anyone, Dorian leaned forward with surprising confidence, arms outstretched, wings flapping enthusiastically.
"Oh no," I said. "You're not—"
Too late.
Azriel shifted smoothly, catching Dorian as if this was an everyday occurrence, which, frankly, it was becoming.
Now he held both babies, one on each arm, Seraphina already half-asleep and Dorian babbling happily, tiny hands gripping Azriel's shirt like it was the safest place in the world.
Azriel looked down at them, utterly doomed.
"You're their favourite," my mate said mildly.
"I don't know how this happened," he replied, though there was no real confusion in his voice.
I wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her into my side as we watched him carefully lower himself onto the couch, babies settling against him like they'd planned this all along.
"You should start charging," I told him. "At this rate, you're basically a third parent."
He shot me a look. "You're welcome."
She leaned into me, head resting against my shoulder, laughter soft and warm. "They trust you," she said to Azriel. "That means everything."
He ducked his head slightly, but his hands tightened just a bit around the twins, protective and gentle.
I pressed a kiss to her hair, my chest full in that quiet, overwhelming way it got sometimes.
"Careful," I added lazily. "If you keep this up, they're going to start calling you Dada too."
Azriel scoffed. "Absolutely not."
Seraphina chose that moment to murmur happily in her sleep, face pressed against his chest. Dorian babbled something equally incriminating.
Azriel's shadows, however, had other plans.
They began to stir, not sharply, not defensively, but with a soft, curious flutter, as if they'd sensed the small, warm presences in his arms and were waking to greet them.
Dorian noticed first.
His babbling cut off mid-sound as his dark eyes tracked the movement curling lazily along Azriel's shoulder. A tiny hand lifted, fingers opening and closing in fascination.
"What?" I murmured under my breath.
One of the shadows stretched forward, thinning and lightening until it hovered just within reach, hesitant, playful.
Dorian gasped.
A bright, delighted laugh burst from him as his fingers swiped through it, only for the shadow to swirl away, teasing. His wings flapped wildly, excitement radiating from him in waves.
"Oh, you've done it now," I said faintly.
Seraphina stirred at the sound of her brother's laughter, blinking sleepily before her gaze landed on the shadows drifting above them. Her little brow furrowed in concentration. Then slowly she reached out.
The shadow met her halfway.
Not touching, not quite, just brushing close enough that she squeaked, a sound of pure joy, and grabbed again.
The shadows responded instantly, curling and looping like ribbons in water, playful and alive in a way I'd never seen them before.
Azriel stiffened. "I don't—" he began, then stopped.
Because the shadows were purring.
Not audibly but the air around them hummed softly, warmly, as they danced around the babies, twining gently around Seraphina's wrist, drifting across Dorian's cheek.
"They like them," my mate whispered, wonder threading her voice.
Azriel stared down at the scene unfolding in his arms, something like awe stealing across his features.
"They've never—" he swallowed. "They've never done this before."
Dorian giggled again, grabbing at the shadows with both hands now, utterly enchanted. Seraphina followed suit, wide awake and delighted, her earlier sleep forgotten entirely.
I barked a laugh. "Congratulations. You've been adopted. By my children and your shadows."
Azriel shot me a glare that lacked any real heat. "This is highly irregular."
The shadows ignored him completely, looping around the babies like they'd found their purpose at last.
My mate leaned into me, smiling softly. "They feel safe with you," she said. "All of you."
Azriel didn't answer but his arms tightened protectively around Seraphina and Dorian, his expression unreadable and very, very soft.
The room filled with the quiet sounds of baby laughter, the low hum of shadows at play, and the steady warmth of family.
A/N - Of course Cassian's children are food thieves. They're six months old and already acting like they've never been fed a day in their lives. Tiny Illyrian appetites are no joke :)
And Azriel with the babies? The shadows playing with them? Seraphina falling asleep on his chest while Dorian treats the shadows like new best friends? Yeah... he never stood a chance x
Cassian really went from "father of twins" to "competing with Azriel for favourite person" in record time!!
Cassian didn't even try to hide the delight in his voice as he dropped onto the couch beside me, one arm slung lazily along the backrest behind my shoulders and a glass of wine dangling from his fingers.
The cushions dipped under his weight, nudging me closer into his side, but I didn't move away. It made for a better view.
Across the room, Azriel stilled.
"I'm not," he said immediately, too quickly, his voice low and controlled in that careful way of his, as if each word had to pass inspection before it was allowed out.
Polished. Restrained. Predictable.
And yet, he still glanced at me. Just once. Just long enough.
I smiled. Not a polite smile. Not a subtle one. No, this one was slow, knowing, earned. The kind of smile that said 'I saw that' even if he wished I hadn't.
I leaned further into Cassian, stealing the wine from his hand without asking, my fingers brushing his as I did.
This had become a routine. Not by accident, either.
Flirting with Azriel wasn't something I stumbled into—it was something I chose. Something I curated.
There were plenty of others in this room I could have aimed my attention at, Cassian, who would've flirted right back without missing a beat, Rhys, who would twist it into something clever and infuriatingly smooth, even Mor, who would have turned it into a competition.
But Azriel? Azriel was different.
Azriel reacted. Not loudly. Not obviously. That was the beauty of it.
He didn't flirt back. He didn't encourage it. He didn't shut it down either, not really.
Instead, he absorbed it, like every word had weight, like it lodged somewhere beneath that carefully constructed composure of his and... disrupted it.
A flicker in his expression. A pause too long. A tightening grip. And his shadows, gods, his shadows told on him every time.
That's why it felt right. Not easy. Not harmless. But right.
Like I'd found a crack in something unbreakable... and couldn't resist pressing against it just to see if it might give.
A game I played with deliberate care, testing the edges of his control just to see where it might finally splinter.
And oh, how it unravelled him.
The townhouse was alive tonight, warm with golden light spilling from every corner, casting everything in a soft glow that made it feel almost dreamlike.
The air was thick with the scent of spiced wine, roasted meats, something sweet lingering underneath.
Laughter bounced easily off the walls, familiar and unguarded.
The Inner Circle gathered like this often, too often, some might say but there was something about tonight that felt sharper. Brighter. Anticipatory
Mostly because of me.
"Well," Cassian drawled, leaning in slightly as he watched Azriel with blatant amusement, "when you compliment him so sweetly, how could he not blush?"
"I can't help it," I said lightly, lifting the glass to my lips before he could protest.
The wine was sharp, bitter, expensive, no doubt. I let it linger on my tongue a moment before swallowing, taking a longer sip than necessary just to spite him.
Cassian huffed beside me. "You're insufferable."
"And yet," I murmured, handing the empty glass back with a grin, "you adore me."
"Debatable."
"Mmh. Not really."
"Come on," I continued, turning toward him as if we were discussing something deeply serious, though my gaze flickered, inevitably, back to where Azriel was. "Have you seen his wings?"
I didn't wait for an answer because I didn't want one.
"You know what they say..." I lowered my voice just enough to suggest scandal, leaning in conspiratorially, a wicked smile tugging at my lips. "The bigger the wingspan, the bigger the—"
"Alright, enough," Rhysand cut in, laughter threading through his voice as he crossed the room.
I shot him a wink. "Don't be jealous, Rhysie."
"I'm not jealous," he muttered, though the smirk tugging at his mouth betrayed him entirely. He passed behind me, ruffling my hair in retaliation like I was something between a nuisance and a favourite pet.
I swatted at him half-heartedly before turning my attention right back where it belonged.
Azriel. Always Azriel.
"Ooh—and his voice," I added, as if I hadn't just been interrupted, like I was carefully building a case no one had asked for. "Gods, it's unfair, really. So deep. So... musical."
That did it.
He froze. Not subtly, either. It was as if someone had pulled every thread holding him together just a little too tight, shoulders going rigid, fingers tightening almost imperceptibly around the glass in his hand.
But it wasn't him that gave him away. It was his shadows. They stirred first—then scattered.
Dark tendrils flickered wildly around him, slipping along the walls, darting across the ceiling, brushing against the edges of the room like restless thoughts given form. Uneasy. Reactive.
Honest.
I tilted my head, studying them with open curiosity, like they were far more interesting than the male they belonged to.
"Your shadows don't like that?" I asked, my voice lilting with amusement.
His jaw tightened.
"That's not what they're saying," he replied, quieter this time. Rougher. Like the words had scraped on the way out.
Oh, that was good. That was very good. I smiled slow and victorious.
Beside me, Cassian let out a bark of laughter, practically vibrating with enjoyment, like this was the best entertainment he'd had all week.
Across from us, Rhys had fully abandoned any attempt at subtlety, his grin sharp and knowing, violet eyes gleaming with interest.
Mor, lounging like royalty in her chair, lifted her glass toward me in encouragement. "Say something else."
"Do not," Amren cut in dryly from her corner, not even bothering to look up. "I am already tired of this."
I ignored her. Of course I did. Because this was the best part.
The moment right before the line. The tension. The anticipation. The question of how far is too far?
The line hadn't been crossed yet. And I wanted to see just how far it could go.
An idea sparked, quick, wicked, irresistible.
I inhaled softly, feigning surprise as if the thought had only just come to me, then shifted, rising slightly from my seat before moving toward him.
Slowly. Deliberately.
Every step measured, every movement intentional. I could feel their attention shift with me, the room quieting just slightly, not enough to notice unless you were looking for it.
Azriel didn't move. Didn't breathe. Didn't run.
I stopped just at his side, close enough to feel the faint heat of him, close enough that the edge of my shoulder brushed his arm. The contact was brief, accidental, if anyone asked. It wasn't.
Then, softer, almost gently, I leaned in.
My nose grazed his cheek. Barely there. A whisper of contact.
"Your hands," I murmured, my voice dropping into something quieter, something meant only for him, threading low and slow between us, "look very nice gripping that glass."
I felt the way he stilled further. If that was even possible.
I didn't stop. Of course I didn't.
"I wonder..." My lips hovered near his ear now, breath warm against his skin. "How they'd look wrapped around my throat while you—"
Gone. Not a flicker. Not a warning.
One second he was there, the next, nothing but a whisper of shadow curling through the air where he'd stood, fading into nothing like he'd never been there at all.
Silence crashed into the room. Heavy. Stunned.
"What the hell did you say?" Cassian demanded, sitting forward so abruptly the couch creaked beneath him.
Rhys blinked once, then let out a low whistle. Mor burst into laughter, delighted. Even Amren looked up.
And me?
I doubled over, laughter spilling out of me, bright and unrestrained, curling through the room like a challenge thrown and answered.
"Oh, you know," I said between breaths, straightening slowly, still grinning as I glanced at the empty space where the Shadowsinger had been.
"Just playing the game."
Azriel's POV -
I have always prided myself on control.
Not the kind others boast about, the loud, obvious kind, sharpened like a blade for show. Mine is quieter. Built in the spaces between breaths. In the things I don't say. In the reactions I never allow to surface.
It is what made me good at what I do. No, what made me the best.
A spymaster cannot afford to be readable. Cannot afford hesitation, or distraction, or weakness. Every thought must be measured, every emotion contained before it has the chance to betray anything of value.
I have lived centuries like that. Unshaken. Unmoved. Untouched.
Until her.
The cup in my hand was warm, the ceramic steady against my palm, grounding in a way I didn't entirely need but appreciated anyway. The tea was stronger than usual. Bitter. Intentional.
I'd made it that way.
The townhouse kitchen was quiet now, the earlier laughter reduced to a distant murmur somewhere deeper in the house. The aftermath of nights like that always felt... strange. Like echoes lingering in rooms that had just been too full.
Too loud. Too—
I exhaled slowly.
My shadows drifted lazily around me, calmer now. Settled. No frantic movements, no restless energy scraping along the walls or curling too tightly around my shoulders.
For once, they were still. For once, I was.
My grip tightened slightly around the cup. It hadn't taken long. It never did.
"Always in the dark, aren't you?"
Rhysand's voice slipped into the room like it belonged there, smooth, amused, entirely too perceptive.
I didn't startle. I never did.
I turned my head just enough to find him leaning against the doorway, violet eyes already fixed on me with that knowing look I'd grown accustomed to over the years.
He crossed into the kitchen without waiting for an invitation, grabbing a glass and filling it with water like this was just another ordinary moment.
It wasn't.
"It is where I find comfort," I said, voice even, unbothered. A practised answer.
Rhys hummed, unconvinced. "Mhm."
He took a slow sip of his water, watching me over the rim of the glass. Waiting.
I ignored him. I took another drink of my tea instead, letting the silence stretch because silence, unlike conversation, had always been something I could control.
"Hey," he said eventually, far too casually, "you want to tell me what she said to you earlier that had you winnowing away without so much as a goodbye?"
There it was. Of course. I didn't look at him. Didn't react.
But my shadows stirred. Just slightly. Traitors.
I knew it wasn't a coincidence he'd followed me in here. Rhys never did anything without reason, and tonight... tonight I had given him far too much to be curious about.
I rolled my eyes, slow and deliberate, lifting the cup to my lips again. "No."
Rhys huffed out a quiet laugh. "Come on. Cassian and I have a bet."
That made me pause. Barely.
"That's unfortunate for you," I replied flatly. "You should choose your wagers more carefully."
"Oh, I intend to win it," he said, pushing off the counter and stepping closer, interest sharpening in his gaze. "But it would be significantly easier if you stopped being so... evasive."
"It's none of your business."
Rhys tilted his head, studying me in that infuriating way he had, the way that suggested he already knew more than he was saying.
"Oh, I don't know," he mused. "One of my brothers vanishes mid-conversation after being cornered by a very bold female, and suddenly it's not my business?"
"I wasn't cornered."
He raised a brow. "You disappeared," he countered. "Quickly. Without a word. That doesn't exactly scream control, Az."
My jaw tightened. Control. That word again.
I set the cup down more firmly than necessary, the quiet clink echoing slightly in the otherwise still room.
"I had somewhere to be."
Rhys snorted. "Yes, I'm sure you did."
Silence settled again but this time, it wasn't mine. It was his. Intentional. Prodding.
"You know," he continued after a moment, tone shifting just enough to signal something more thoughtful beneath the teasing, "you could always tell her to stop."
The words landed heavier than they should have. Simple. Obvious. True.
I knew that. Of course I knew that. I could stop it with a single sentence. A look. A command, if I truly wanted to.
She wasn't cruel. She wasn't oblivious. She would listen.
My shadows curled inward slightly, brushing against my arms like they were waiting, watching, for my response.
I didn't answer immediately because the truth wasn't simple. The truth was—
"I know," I said finally, quieter than before.
Rhys waited. I could feel it. The expectation. The curiosity. The inevitable follow-up.
I didn't give it to him. Instead, I reached for my tea again, though it had already begun to cool.
"I'm not entirely sure I want her to," I added, the words leaving me before I could reconsider them.
The admission hung between us. Small. Controlled. And yet not nothing.
Rhys went very still. Then, slowly, a smile spread across his face. Not mocking. Not surprised. Understanding.
"Well," he said softly, tapping the rim of his glass with one finger, "that certainly makes things more interesting."
I shot him a look. "Don't."
He held up a hand in mock surrender, though the amusement in his eyes didn't fade. "Relax. I'm not going to interfere."
"Good."
"But," he added, already turning toward the doorway, "I am going to enjoy watching you pretend you're unaffected."
"I am unaffected."
Rhys laughed outright at that, the sound echoing as he stepped out of the kitchen.
"Right," he called over his shoulder. "That's why you ran."
I stared after him, expression unmoved. Waited until his footsteps faded. Until the house settled again. Until the quiet returned.
Then I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand down my face.
My shadows stirred, restless once more. Not calm. Not settled. Not even close.
Because no matter how still I stood, no matter how carefully I held myself together, the memory lingered.
Her voice. Her proximity. The warmth of her breath against my ear. The words she hadn't even finished.
I closed my eyes briefly.
Maddening. That was the only word for it.
I had faced enemies without flinching. Endured things that would break lesser males without hesitation.
And yet one female. One smile. One whispered sentence.
And my control slipped through my fingers like it had never been there at all.
I could stop it. I should stop it. I just didn't want to.
A/N - She lays it on very thick while Azriel does what he does best... silently combust and vanishes into the shadows x
Rhys takes his role as an irritating brother very seriously and decides Azriel's suffering is far too entertaining to ignore. Unfortunately for Az, that leads to a few realisations he'd probably rather not be having ;)
Not just heavier in my arms, though they were that too but more. Louder. More expressive. Smiling with recognition, grasping fingers curling with intent instead of instinct.
Three months had passed in a blur of firsts, of late nights and early mornings, of love so overwhelming it sometimes felt like it might swallow me whole.
Three months of pure bliss.
Cassian and I had found a rhythm, an easy one. Work, the babies, stolen moments of laughter when we collapsed together at night, breathless but content. We were happy. I knew we were.
Tonight was rare.
Azriel had taken the twins for the night, insisting quietly but stubbornly that he wanted time with his niece and nephew.
I had objected. Firmly. Repeatedly. But the look in his eyes had softened me, and eventually I'd relented, watching him disappear into shadow with two bundled lives I loved more than anything.
The house felt... strange without them. Too quiet.
I'd cooked dinner. Real dinner. Cassian had praised it, eyes warm, voice low.
"Dinner was delicious," he murmured, lifting my hand and pressing a kiss to my knuckles. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," I smiled, threading my fingers through his hair as he leaned into the touch like he always did.
We were laying together on our bed, limbs tangled easily, laughter bubbling up as we talked about nothing and everything. The way we always had before the babies slept in their own room, before everything had shifted just slightly off-centre.
I tilted my head, studying his face in the low light. Hazel eyes soft. Familiar. Mine.
I kissed him. He kissed me back immediately, one hand cradling the back of my head, the other sliding to my waist, palm warm even through the thin fabric of my nightgown.
Relief bloomed in my chest, quick and hopeful.
I deepened the kiss without thinking, nails tracing down the expanse of his bare chest, memorising muscle I already knew by heart.
I shifted closer, instinctive, comfortable, settling onto his lap, legs straddling his hips like they had a hundred times before—and then I felt it.
The way his body went still. Not tense. Not resistant. Just... stopped.
I pulled back, breath shallow, searching his face. "What's wrong?" I asked softly, thumb brushing along his jaw as his hands slid from my waist to my hips, holding me there but not pulling me closer.
"Nothing," he said instantly. Too instantly.
I didn't miss the way he didn't lean in again. Didn't deepen the moment. Didn't touch me the way he used to.
I wasn't stupid.
I'd noticed it for months now. The brief kisses. The careful hands. The way every touch ended just a moment too soon. Always gentle. Always restrained.
"Can you please tell me what's wrong?" I pressed, the unease blooming sharper as I climbed off his lap, the rejection stinging even though I'd initiated it myself.
"Nothing, I swear," he insisted.
But something inside me was already unravelling.
The tears came slower this time, quiet, insidious, every insecurity rising at once, clawing their way to the surface now that the house was silent and my guard was down.
"Do you... not want me anymore?" I swallowed, my voice barely holding together.
A tear slipped free, and I wiped it away quickly, embarrassed by it.
Cassian turned to me like I'd struck him. His jaw dropped, eyes wide, horrified. He opened his mouth, closed it, then tried again.
"Why would you say that?" he whispered.
"You—you haven't touched me in months," I said, the words shaking as they left me. "Madja cleared us weeks ago. Weeks. But still you won't—"
"Sweetheart," he murmured, reaching for me.
I scooted back instinctively, pain sharpening into panic. "No. Just—just tell me," I cried, tears spilling freely now. "Do you think I'm unattractive now? Because I'm trying—I am. I know it's only been three months but—"
Cassian's eyes widened further, devastation etched across his face.
"Sweetheart, that couldn't be further from the truth," he said urgently.
"You don't have to lie to me," I rushed on, words tumbling over each other. "Everyone knows how insane your sex drive is. Before the babies we were—every night, sometimes more, and now you barely—"
"Sweetheart."
He grabbed my face gently but firmly, thumbs brushing away tears, forcing me to look at him.
"Stop," he said, voice thick. "Please."
I choked out a broken, "What?"
"I haven't initiated anything because I've been afraid," he admitted quietly. "Afraid of hurting you. Afraid of pushing too soon. Afraid you'd feel like you had to say yes when your body's been through hell."
The words hit me like a wave.
His voice cracked. "The idea that you think I don't want you—Mother, that's—"
He shook his head, breath unsteady. "I look at you and I still feel it. All of it. But I love you too much to risk hurting you."
The room went still. So still I could hear my own heartbeat, loud and uneven in my ears.
For a moment, I just stared at him, really looked at him.
At the way his hands trembled slightly where they rested at his sides. At the naked fear in his eyes, not for himself, but for me.
The spiral in my head slowed. Unwound.
"You could never hurt me," I said softly.
The words felt fragile at first, like they might shatter if I spoke them too loudly, but as soon as they were out, they settled into my chest, solid. True.
Cassian inhaled sharply. "You don't know that," he murmured. "Your body—what you went through—"
"I do know," I interrupted, shaking my head. "I know you."
I reached for him then, slow and deliberate, giving him every chance to pull away. He didn't.
My hands rested on his chest, feeling the steady, familiar beat of his heart beneath my palms.
"You've never once pushed me," I continued, voice trembling just a little. "Not before. Not now. Not ever. You've been careful to the point of hurting yourself instead."
His brow furrowed. "I just didn't want you to feel like—"
"Like I owed you something?" I finished gently. "Or like I wasn't allowed to want it too?"
He swallowed hard.
"I want this," I said quietly. "I want you. Not because I have to. Not because I'm trying to prove anything. Because I miss you. Because I miss us."
Tears burned again, but these were different, lighter, steadier. "My body doesn't feel broken, Cassian. It feels... changed. And sometimes I don't recognise it yet. But I'm still in here. I still want to be close to you."
His hands came up slowly, reverently, as if he were afraid I might vanish. He didn't touch me right away just hovered there, giving me the space to change my mind.
"You're sure?" he asked, voice barely above a whisper.
I nodded. "I'm sure."
The relief that crossed his face was immediate and overwhelming. He rested his forehead against mine, eyes closed, breathing uneven.
"Thank you for telling me," he murmured. "I should have told you sooner. I hate that I made you doubt yourself."
I slid my arms around him, holding him tight. "We're both still learning," I whispered. "About this. About each other."
He held me then, not urgently, not carefully to the point of distance but present. Real. Like he'd finally let himself believe I was still his, and he was still mine.
This time, when we kissed, it was slow and careful, his lips brushing over mine with a reverence that made my chest ache.
There was no rush, no urgency, just warmth and patience and love woven into every touch.
His fingers moved deliberately as he undressed me, as though he was memorising me all over again.
The nightgown slipped from my shoulders and pooled at my feet, forgotten. He followed, shedding his own clothes with the same unhurried care, until there was nothing left between us.
He paused then, just looking at me. His eyes traced every curve, every familiar line changed and reshaped by life and love. Awe softened his features.
"You're beautiful," he said quietly. Not as a compliment but as a truth.
Heat bloomed in my cheeks, my heart swelling at the way he looked at me, like I was something precious.
He eased me back onto the bed, following me down, his mouth brushing mine again.
His body settled between my thighs, the closeness instantly intimate, his warmth pressing into me in a way that made my breath hitch. His hands slid down my arms, fingers threading through mine, grounding us together while his hips shifted just enough to remind me how close we were.
The closeness was soothing, reassuring, everything I hadn't known I needed.
"Are you ready?" he asked, concern threading through his voice.
I nodded, breath caught in my throat.
His movements were slow and mindful as he entered me, pausing the moment we connected. He stayed there, forehead resting against mine, breathing unevenly while my body adjusted to the familiar fullness again.
His hands never left me, thumbs brushing small, steady strokes into my skin, anchoring me in the moment.
"I'm okay," I whispered. "I promise."
Relief softened him instantly. He moved again, gently, carefully, every thrust unhurried.
There was no rush to get anywhere, only the quiet intimacy of rediscovering each other, of trust rebuilt in every slow movement.
"So perfect for me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.
The warmth grew, spreading, pooling low as something inside me stirred—need, yes, but also certainty.
I tightened my grip on his hands, my legs drawing him closer, meeting him instinctively.
"Cass," I breathed. "You can... go faster."
The sound he made in response was low and raw, vibrating through both of us.
His restraint finally gave way, his movements growing more confident, more urgent but never careless.
Our bodies found a rhythm together, natural and familiar, like coming home.
I arched up to meet him, the sensation building, overwhelming in the best way. Every touch, every breath between us carried months of longing and love.
The world narrowed to the space we shared, the quiet sounds, the warmth, the way we moved together as one.
When release finally came, it swept through me like a wave, leaving me breathless, clinging to him as my body trembled.
He followed soon after, his breath breaking as he buried himself against me, holding me tightly as the moment passed through us both.
Afterward, he stayed there, forehead pressed to mine, arms wrapped around me as if he never intended to let go.
And for the first time in a while, everything felt right again.
Cassian's POV -
I woke to golden light spilling through the tall windows and a warm, familiar weight pressed against my chest.
For a moment, I just lay there breathing her in, sleep-warmed skin, faint citrus and something uniquely her. An instinctive smile tugged at my mouth as I shifted closer, one arm tightening around her waist, fitting her against me like she'd always belonged there.
Because she had.
I dipped my head, brushing a soft kiss to her temple. Then another, just beneath her hairline.
She stirred, a quiet sound leaving her throat as she shifted against me.
Long ago, that would've earned me a sharp elbow and a grumbled warning about interrupting precious sleep.
But those days had vanished the moment Seraphina and Dorian had entered our lives.
"What a nice way to wake up," she murmured, voice thick and sleepy as she stretched, every inch of her pressing into me like she knew exactly what she was doing.
I huffed a quiet laugh. "No screaming babies," I said, voice low. "No frantic pacing. A rare luxury."
She blinked up at me, eyes still tired but bright. Happy. Content in a way that made something warm bloom in my chest.
"Come on," I murmured, brushing my thumb along her jaw. "Get up. I'll make us breakfast."
Her eyes lit instantly, like I'd just promised her the world.
"Oh, you spoil me," she grinned. "Good sex and good food? What more could a female ask for?"
"Only good?" I asked, arching a brow.
She didn't even hesitate just smacked my chest, entirely unbothered, before slipping from the bed. She bent to grab her robe, tying it loosely as she straightened, shooting me a look over her shoulder that promised trouble.
"Come on, General," she purred, curling a finger at me. "I'm starving."
And like a fool, like a male utterly lost, I followed without hesitation, barely tugging my pants on as I went.
The kitchen felt warmer than usual, sunlight flooding the space as she settled onto a stool, chin propped in her hands while she watched me move.
I could feel her gaze, could hear the quiet hum she made as I cracked eggs, set bread to toast, moved around the space like this had always been our life.
And maybe it had. Just... louder now. Messier. Fuller.
"You're staring," I said without looking at her.
"I'm appreciating," she corrected.
I snorted, but my mouth curved into a grin anyway.
When I set a bowl of fruit in front of her, followed by toast and a plate of eggs, she made a sound like I'd personally saved her life.
"Cassian," she sighed. "Marry me."
I leaned down, brushing a kiss to her hair. "Already did."
As she ate, colour slowly returned to her cheeks, her shoulders relaxing, the weight she carried easing just a little. Gods, it was worth it, every second.
I rested a hand on the counter beside her, then, without really thinking about it, let my palm drift to her stomach, warm and familiar beneath my touch.
"Sweetheart" I said casually, lips twitching, "who knows—after last night there might be another baby in there."
I paused, then added thoughtfully, "Or two."
She burst out laughing, the sound bright and unrestrained, before immediately smacking my arm.
"Cassian!" she scolded, still laughing. "Absolutely not."
I grinned, utterly unapologetic. "Just saying. We're clearly talented."
She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling, really smiling. And that was everything.
A/N - This is my fourth time writing this kind of fic and I've been WAITING for the chance to write this exact scenario—it just feels so Cassian to hold himself back out of fear of hurting her, especially when everyone would assume he'd be the one immediately trying to initiate!!
Writing his POV afterward was so much fun. The teasing, the banter, the domestic chaos energy, him acting like getting her pregnant again is a completely reasonable breakfast conversation x
So, I didn't manage to get to this yesterday, but here goes. I’m splitting this into two messages so they don’t get too long 🤭
What helps me overcome writer's block is reworking the beginning of a story and then writing on from there. Or writing out the whole plot again to see if something doesn't fit—usually, the issue is something wrong with the plot, and I have to find it before the flow returns. Then... long walks. Just me and my notebook—maybe some music playing—have often provided support and sparked new ideas. Sometimes it also helps to write scenes out of order instead of going chronologically, or to start a completely new project. Maybe just a one-shot to get back into the writing groove—either featuring new characters or a short fic set in one of your completed stories, telling a brief adventure or capturing a moment with your characters.
These are things that help me. Still, it’s sometimes really hard to overcome the blocks because I think it’s mostly a mental thing; personally, I tend to overthink whether it’s good enough and want everything to be perfect right away. That has sometimes drained the spark I’d really like to get back.
I think a big thing for me is that I’ve been forcing myself to finish certain stories, and it’s just not working :( I’m going to try plotting a completely new one tonight and hopefully that’ll help me.
And I completely get what you mean about the spark being drained by overthinking. I’m exactly the same with worrying that something isn’t good enough or that I’m not writing it as well as I could and then I end up getting anxious about it and overthinking every little thing instead of actually enjoying writing it. I think I definitely need to get better at letting myself just write something without immediately judging it x
Thank you for all the advice though, I’m definitely going to try some of these things <33
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I wanted to read your last rhys series SO BADLY but I started working a few weeks ago and I would find myself tired and didn't have the energy to read (books, fics, etc) BUT I reeeeeally wanted to read so I decided to reread (again) acotar and two days ago I started acomaf (my beloved acomaf) and I told myself "now it's the perfect time to read that series you've been delaying for days" and I DID IT!! I READ IT!!!
omg iLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVED IT SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH!!!! i loved the tension between them, how she acted and talked, i loved rhys being so down bad for her like ugh YES GIVE ME THAT!! I would have loved to see more of az and cass, I think they would have helped rhys to create some short of plan or something but I LOVED IT!! and because I was feeling that itch of more I decided to reread starlight and well things happened like I cried reading the last chapter, like really really cry 😭 how can you write a fic so beautifully breathtaking?? I was reading and I didn't realised I was crying when they were watching starfall 😭😭😭
I repeat myself every single time but I'm so mesmerised by your writing I need to say that i LOVE your writing so much, you're definitely one of my favorite fic writer 🩷🫶🏻✨️
stop it rn you are just the sweetest—i will acc cry <33
i was quite proud of that series myself asw, especially the dialogue because it was so fun, im so happy you liked it!!
this kind of feedback always fills me with sm joy because i love getting to see how my writing can affect somebody :)
it's acc crazy to me that someone out there thinks my writing is worth such kind words, ill acc sob 🥹
If anyone had asked me, even a week ago, where I thought my life was heading, this—wouldn't have even made the list.
A private jet. High above everything I had ever known. Running. With Azriel.
The soft hum of the engines filled the space, steady and constant, a low vibration beneath my feet as the world I used to belong to disappeared mile by mile beneath us.
And still I didn't regret it. Not once. Not even now.
I stared out the window, watching clouds stretch endlessly beneath us, lit silver by the moonlight. It should have felt isolating. Terrifying. Final.
Instead, it felt... freeing. Dangerously so.
I felt his gaze before I turned. It was something I had become attuned to, like a shift in the air, a quiet pull that always seemed to lead back to him.
When I finally looked, Azriel was already watching me. Hazel eyes, steady. Intent. Like I was something worth studying.
"What?" I asked, a small, breathless laugh escaping me despite everything.
He didn't look away. Didn't soften it.
"What are you thinking about?"
There was something quieter in his voice now. Not softer but real.
I exhaled slowly, leaning back slightly in my seat. "I'm trying to decide if I've completely lost my mind," I admitted. "Because... I shouldn't be here. I know I shouldn't be here." A beat. "And yet," I added, glancing back at him, "I don't want to be anywhere else."
Something shifted in his expression then. Subtle but there.
He huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head slightly like he already knew that answer.
"Yeah," he murmured. "That sounds about right."
Before I could say anything else, his hands were on me, firm, certain, as he pulled me effortlessly onto his lap.
The movement stole the breath from my lungs, my hands instinctively bracing against his shoulders as I settled there, caught between surprise and something far more dangerous.
"Azriel—" I started, but the protest didn't carry much weight.
Not when I wasn't actually trying to move away.
His hands settled at my hips, grounding me there, like I belonged exactly where I was. Like I wasn't going anywhere.
His gaze lifted to mine again, closer now. Too close to pretend this was anything other than what it was.
"Still think you made a mistake?" he asked quietly.
My breath caught. "No," I admitted, softer this time.
And that was all it took.
He leaned in, closing the space between us, his lips finding mine in a kiss that wasn't rushed but wasn't hesitant either.
It felt inevitable. Like something that had been building for far too long and finally didn't have to hold back anymore.
My fingers curled into his shirt as I leaned into him, the world outside the two of us fading into something distant, unimportant.
Everything narrowed to warmth. To closeness. To him.
His grip tightened slightly at my waist, pulling me closer, anchoring me there as if he needed to feel that I was real. That I was still here.
That I chose this. Chose him.
I pulled back just enough to breathe, my forehead brushing his as I let out a quiet laugh, half-dazed.
"Not here," I whispered, glancing past him briefly. "They're right there."
Cassian, sprawled across the opposite seat. Rhys, watching far more than he let on.
Azriel didn't even look. "I'll open the door and throw them out," he muttered, completely serious.
A surprised laugh broke free from me before I could stop it, shaking my head. "You would not—"
I didn't get to finish because in the next second, he was already moving.
One arm hooked securely around me as he stood, lifting me like it was nothing. My legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, a startled breath escaping me as I clutched onto him.
"Azriel—" I laughed, half in disbelief now.
He didn't answer. Just carried me down the narrow aisle of the jet like he'd already decided exactly where this was going.
A door opened. And I blinked.
A room. Not just some cramped compartment, an actual space. A wide bed, low lighting, something far too intimate for what was supposed to be nothing more than an escape route.
My breath hitched... not from surprise this time.
From the way he was looking at me. Like none of it, the jet, the danger, the escape, mattered as much as the simple fact that I was here. With him.
The door clicked shut behind us.
With a single, fluid movement, he tossed me onto the bed. My body bounced lightly as he followed, bracing himself above me.
"I've waited so long for this," he murmured, capturing my lips as his hands began stripping me of my clothes.
I didn't waste time—his shirt was over his head in seconds, his pants not far behind, urgency building fast between us like a rising tide.
"Look at you," he breathed, his gaze dragging slowly over every inch of me.
I lifted myself to kiss him again, slow and deep. His hands found my ass, gripping hard before sliding upward to lavish the same attention on my breasts.
His mouth was hot, insistent, devouring whatever skin he could reach.
A moan slipped into his mouth as I ground up against the hard length of him, teasing, provoking, feeling the tension coil tighter between us.
I caught his gaze, dark, hungry and smiled, slow and wicked, as I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock.
He was thick, pulsing in my grip, velvet wrapped over steel.
I stroked him just enough to make him twitch, to pull that low, strained groan from his throat like holding back was physically painful.
I dragged the tip of him through my soaked folds, testing him, seeing how far I could push.
His jaw tightened, breath flaring through his nose.
Before I could take it any further, he surged forward, caging me beneath him as he drove his cock deep inside me.
The sudden stretch tore a gasp from me, my legs instinctively locking around his waist.
"You feel like heaven," he growled, lowering himself fully against me, mouth crashing back to mine in a messy, desperate kiss, all tongue, teeth and heat.
He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes. Then his hips moved, slow, deep, deliberate.
A moan broke from me as I stared up at him, unable to look away, savouring every inch of him dragging through me. Every ridge, every pulse, the way he filled me so completely it bordered on too much.
"I want to watch you fall apart," he rasped. "Every sound, every tremble... right here." He kissed my cheek. "Right here." Another at the corner of my mouth. "Right fucking here."
He moved again, each thrust striking perfectly, pulling more broken sounds from me. His pace didn't ease, his body pressing me deeper into the mattress with every roll of his hips.
"You take me so well," he whispered against my throat, teeth grazing lightly. "So tight... fuck, the way you clamp down when I hit that spot—"
"Right there," I gasped, legs shaking around him, nails dragging down his back. "Don't stop—please—don't stop—"
"I'm not stopping," he groaned, voice rough, wrecked. "Not until you're shaking for me. Not until I see your eyes roll back."
He shifted, angling deeper, and I cried out, high, helpless, undone.
"That's it," he snarled, snapping his hips harder now. "Give it to me. Let me ruin you for anyone else."
His hands caught my wrists, pinning them above my head and his mouth dropped to my chest, tongue circling a nipple before sucking hard enough to pull a cry from me.
"You're so deep," I gasped, nails biting into his shoulders. "So good—so fucking good—"
"You're dripping for me," he groaned, sliding a hand between us, fingers finding my clit, rubbing tight, fast circles. "So wet. Look at you, baby—like you were made for me."
His words made me clench around him, a broken sound leaving me as my body began to spiral, each thrust hitting exactly where I needed it.
"Come for me," he demanded. "I want to feel that pretty pussy choke my cock."
It crashed over me all at once. The tension snapped, my body arching into his as I came with a shattered sob, trembling, pulsing around him as stars burst behind my eyes.
"Fuck—fuck, baby—" he groaned, his rhythm faltering as I dragged him with me.
His whole body tensed, shuddering, before he drove deep one last time, burying himself fully as he came, heat flooding into me, spilling over until it leaked around where we were joined.
He collapsed against me, breath ragged, lips brushing my ear as he whispered, "That face... gods, I could die like this."
A breathless, shaky laugh slipped out of me, my body not quite steady yet.
"You better not," I whispered back. "I just broke you out of prison. That would be incredibly inconvenient."
That pulled a quiet huff of amusement from him, the sound warm against my skin. He shifted just enough to look at me, his gaze searching my face like he was memorising it, like he wasn't entirely convinced I was still here.
Then he leaned in again. The kiss this time wasn't rushed. Wasn't consuming.
It was slow. Intentional. Lingering in a way that made something deeper settle inside my chest, something steadier than the chaos that had brought us here.
When he finally pulled back, the space between us didn't feel like distance.
It felt... deliberate. Like neither of us quite wanted to break whatever this moment was.
We just looked at each other. Really looked. No guards. No walls. No rules. No lines left to pretend we hadn't crossed.
Just him. Just me.
"Do you think they heard?" I asked after a while, my voice quieter now, glancing toward the closed door like it might somehow answer me.
His lips twitched.
"Heard?" he echoed, a low laugh slipping out of him as he shook his head slightly. "Darling..." His gaze dragged back to mine, something teasing sparking there again. "I'd say someone on the ground probably heard you."
"Azriel," I gasped, half horrified, half laughing as I swatted weakly at his arm.
He barely reacted just caught my wrist easily, like it was nothing, amusement still threading through him.
"Relax," he murmured, releasing me just as easily, like he knew I wasn't actually trying to get away.
Then, softer, quieter, he dropped his head to the curve of my neck, breathing me in like it anchored him in a way nothing else could.
The shift was subtle, but I felt it.
The teasing fading. Something else taking its place. Something heavier. Realer.
My hand lifted without thinking, fingers threading gently through his hair, smoothing it back, grounding him the same way he seemed to ground me.
And just like that, everything stilled again.
Calm in a way that didn't make sense considering everything we had done. Everything we had risked.
Everything we had become.
I stared up at the ceiling for a moment, the faint hum of the jet wrapping around us, carrying us further and further away from the life I had once known.
From who I had been.
I should have been terrified. I should have been second-guessing every decision that had led me here.
Helping him. Trusting him. Choosing him.
But I wasn't. Not even a little.
Because for the first time in what felt like forever, nothing inside me was fighting. No doubt. No hesitation. No voice telling me to turn back.
Just a quiet, undeniable certainty settling deep in my chest.
I turned my head slightly, looking down at him where he rested against me, completely at ease in a way I knew he rarely allowed himself to be.
And I realised something then.
This wasn't just recklessness. This wasn't just obsession. This wasn't just the aftermath of chaos and adrenaline and blurred lines.
This was a choice. Mine. And I didn't regret it.
A small smile tugged at my lips as my fingers continued their slow, absent movement through his hair.
Running. Breaking every rule I had ever lived by. Throwing everything away for something I couldn't fully explain.
Maybe it should have felt like losing everything.
Instead it felt like finally choosing something. And somehow... that made all of it worth it.
Azriel's POV -
When I started planning my escape, it had been cold. Calculated.
Every detail mapped out, every risk weighed, every step measured against survival. There had been no room for variables, no space for anything unpredictable, anything soft, anything that could compromise the precision I'd spent a year building.
Especially not her. She had never been part of the plan.
Not when I first noticed her walking those corridors like she didn't belong to them.
Not when she sat across from me, steady and composed, asking questions no one else had ever thought to ask.
Not even when she looked at me like she saw something more than what the file on my name said I was.
She had been... an interruption. Then a distraction. Then something far more dangerous.
And now she was here.
Curled against me like this was where she was meant to be, her body relaxed in a way that didn't exist inside prison walls, her breathing slow and even as the jet carried us further away from everything we had left behind.
From everything I had been.
I hadn't anticipated this. Not once.
Not in a single version of the plan I'd run through my head over and over again in that cell, staring at concrete walls and counting time like it was something I could control.
In every version, I walked out alone.
Freedom had always been the goal. Clean. Simple. Controlled. Not this. Not her.
Not the way something in my chest had shifted the moment she said "I'll help you" like the entire plan had rewritten itself around her without asking permission.
My gaze dropped to her again, slower this time. Taking her in properly.
The way her fingers idly moved through my hair, like she didn't even realise she was doing it. The faint curve of her lips, softer now, untouched by fear for the first time since I'd known her.
Content. She looked content. And that more than anything hit harder than it should have.
Because she shouldn't be. Not here. Not like this. Not after everything she had just risked.
She had burned her life down for this. For me.
A quiet exhale left me, something unfamiliar threading through it. Not tension. Not calculation. Something steadier. Something I didn't quite have a name for.
"I didn't plan for you," I said eventually, my voice low in the quiet space between us.
Her fingers stilled slightly in my hair, just for a second, before continuing.
"I gathered that," she murmured, a faint smile touching her voice.
My lips twitched.
"No," I continued, lifting my head just enough to look at her properly. "I mean—I planned everything else. Every door. Every guard. Every second."
A pause. "But not you."
Her gaze softened slightly at that, though there was still something searching beneath it. Like she was trying to understand what that meant.
"What does that mean?" she asked quietly.
I held her gaze for a moment longer than necessary.
"It means," I said slowly, "this wasn't supposed to be the best part."
Silence followed. Not heavy. Not uncertain. Just... full.
Her expression shifted, subtle but real. Something settling into place, something that didn't need to be questioned or picked apart.
Just accepted.
The corner of her mouth lifted slightly. "That's a very dangerous thing to say to someone who just committed multiple crimes for you."
A quiet huff of laughter left me, low and genuine. "Yeah," I said. "Probably."
But I didn't take it back. Wouldn't. Because it was true.
I had spent so long inside those walls that freedom had become an abstract thing, something I chased because I refused to rot in a cage, because I refused to let someone else decide how my story ended.
But I hadn't known what it would feel like. Not really. Not until now.
Not until the absence of weight pressed in from all sides, the lack of eyes watching, of doors locking, of time being measured for me instead of by me.
Not until I could breathe without thinking about it. Not until I could touch her without consequence.
Freedom didn't feel like running. It felt like this.
Like quiet. Like choice. Like the steady rise and fall of her chest beneath my hand, the warmth of her body against mine, the way she didn't flinch, didn't hesitate, didn't pull away. Like she had chosen this just as much as I had.
I let my hand settle more firmly at her side, grounding myself in something real, something that couldn't be taken away, not yet.
"We're not going back," I said, more to myself than to her.
Her fingers paused again, this time lingering in my hair before she shifted just enough to look down at me.
"No," she agreed softly. "We're not."
Something in my chest tightened at that, not painfully. Not sharply. Just... enough.
Enough to remind me this wasn't just escape. This was something else entirely.
Something I hadn't planned for. Something I hadn't controlled. Something I hadn't even known I wanted until it was already mine.
My gaze drifted back to the ceiling, the low hum of the jet steady and constant above us, carrying us somewhere far beyond reach.
A year ago, I had been counting cracks in concrete. Now I had the sky. And her.
A slow, satisfied breath left me as I closed my eyes briefly, letting it settle fully for the first time.
Freedom had always been the goal but this... this was better.
A/N - The final part!! They made it out successfully, Azriel is officially free and she is very happy x
The smut is... spicy and the jet bed scene was absolutely inspired by Christian and Gianna from The Maddest Obsession because I LOVE that book and honestly couldn't resist the vibes!!
I loved writing this so much, I hope you all enjoyed it :)
The next series is called "Rosy" and it's an opposites attract, grumpy x sunshine with lots of flirting and chaos—the prologue is already posted for anybody interested.
Thank you all so much for reading, please let me know what you thought <33
These are all the stories I’ve finished (but haven’t posted yet), what I’m currently working on and what’s still on my request list so it’s easier to keep track of everything :)
I’ll try to update this as regularly as possible, so if you’ve requested something, this will probably be the best place to check for updates x
Finished completely but not yet posted -
Spotlight (Azriel x reader)
Lessons in Love (Azriel x reader) - requested by anon
A Chosen Destiny (Azriel x reader) - requested by @sophieliz
Breaking quiet (Azriel x reader) - requested by @theprythianexpress
Sit in your Shadows (Azriel x reader) - requested by @immortaliaslane
The Hunters Key (Cassian x Azriel x reader) - requested by @sophieliz
After Hours (Feyre x Rhysand x reader) - requested by @sophieliz
Safe Harbour (Azriel x Rhysand x Cassian x reader) - requested by @sophieliz
Bittersweet (Rhysand x reader) - requested by @/strwberriiz (on wattpad)
Finished writing but still editing -
Forbidden (Rhysand x reader) - requested by anon
Lifeline (Rhysand x reader) - requested by @itsaperiwinkleworldv2
A Lasting Imprint (Nesta x Cassian x reader) - requested by anon
Kindled (Eris Vanserra x reader) - requested by @hellooo0000 (in messages)
Currently writing -
TBD (Azriel x reader) - requested by anon
To be written -
TBD (Azriel x reader) - requested by anon
TBD (Azriel x reader) - requested by anon
TBD (Azriel x Rhysand x Cassian x reader) - requested by @sophieliz
TBD (Azriel x reader) - requested by anon
TBD (Adult Nyx x reader)
TBD (Azriel x reader) - requested by anon combined with this
TBD (Azriel x reader) requested by anon
TBD (Azriel x reader) requested by @/bloomwinxclubfairys (on wattpad)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I had a dream about Azriel, and I think it would fit really well with one of your requests that haven't been written yet 🤭—plus, I have a few tips for overcoming writer's block that might help. Would you like to hear them? 😊
im all ears angel <33
i'm off work today asw so my plan was to go and update the archive and hopefully start editing and writing again :)
