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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)
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 :)
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Before becoming a mother, I had been certain of one thing. I could have slept forever.
Sleep had been sacred to me, something I hoarded and cherished. When Cassian rose before dawn to train, when Velaris yawned awake and the streets filled with life, I stayed curled beneath the blankets until I absolutely had to move.
No one ever begrudged me that. Not during peace. Not during pregnancy.
Even when sleep became elusive, hips aching, lungs crushed, thoughts racing, everyone only smiled indulgently and told me to rest while I still could.
I hadn't understood what they meant.
Now, one week into motherhood, sleep felt like a distant myth. A story from another lifetime.
With two newborns, two tiny, relentless beings who seemed personally offended by the concept of nighttime—I felt hopelessly outnumbered.
Cassian and I versus Seraphina and Dorian, and the twins were winning.
It was deep into the night. The kind of hour where time lost meaning, where the world narrowed to shadows and dim faelight and the quiet creak of the house settling.
I lay half-upright against the pillows, eyes drifting closed and snapping open again as I fought to stay awake.
Seraphina was tucked against my chest, warm and heavy and blissfully content as she finished nursing. My hand moved in a slow, automatic rhythm, patting her back as I stared unfocused at the far wall.
Cassian sat beside me, equally awake, equally exhausted, his dark hair a mess and his eyes shadowed. He watched me with the same intensity he once reserved for battlefields.
"What can I do?" he asked softly.
I swallowed, pressing a gentle kiss to Seraphina's brow, breathing in that warm, milky scent that still didn't quite feel real.
"Pass me Dorian," I murmured, voice thick with sleep. "So I can feed him and be done with this."
Cassian was on his feet instantly, movements careful and practised now, as if he'd been doing this his entire life instead of barely a week. He reached for the other bundled form lying between us and returned a moment later, placing the baby into my arms with infinite care.
I blinked down at the small bundle. Once. Twice. A frown creased my brow.
Something felt wrong. Off. The weight, the way the baby settled against me, it tugged uneasily at my chest.
"I said Dorian," I mumbled, adjusting my grip. "I already fed Seraphina."
Cassian tilted his head, studying me with that infuriatingly calm expression.
"That is Dorian," he said gently, nudging the baby closer like that would somehow fix the buzzing confusion in my head.
"No," I snapped, sharper than I meant to, handing the baby back toward him. "It's not."
The edge in my voice surprised even me.
He accepted the baby easily, not rising to it, concern flickering in his eyes instead of irritation. "Sweetheart," he sighed, "just unwrap the blankets and take a look. You'll know."
Something inside me cracked.
The tears came before I could stop them, hot, heavy, humiliating. One second I was blinking, the next my vision blurred completely as sobs tore out of my chest. I didn't remember choosing to cry. My body simply gave up, like it had been waiting for permission to fall apart.
Cassian's eyes widened in alarm. "Hey—hey," he breathed.
He moved fast, setting the baby safely back on the bed before pulling me into his arms, cradling me like I was the one who might shatter.
"I'm sorry," he rushed. "I won't joke, I promise. Shh—it's okay."
But it wasn't okay.
I sobbed into his chest, fingers curling into his shirt like it was the only thing keeping me upright. "I don't know why I keep crying at everything," I hiccupped. "I don't even know why I'm upset—"
My breath caught painfully.
"And—and why can't I tell them apart?" I whispered, the words breaking as they left me. "A mother should be able to. I should know. They're mine."
The shame tasted bitter, heavy on my tongue.
Cassian's arms tightened around me, wings folding in instinctively, shutting out the room, the night, the quiet pressure of everything I felt I was doing wrong.
His hand moved slowly up and down my back, grounding, steady.
"You are exhausted," he whispered against my hair. "You're healing. You're feeding two babies. You're doing everything."
I shook my head weakly, tears soaking into his shirt. "It doesn't feel like enough. It feels like I'm always one step behind. Like I'm failing them."
His response was immediate.
"You're not," he said, voice firm enough to cut through the fog in my head. "Not even close."
He tipped my chin up gently, forcing me to meet his eyes. They were fierce with certainty. With love.
"You carried them," he said quietly. "You brought them into this world. You love them so much it hurts. Confusing them at three in the morning doesn't make you a bad mother."
My tears slowed, though they still slipped free, quieter now. Exhaustion seeped back in where panic had been.
"You need rest," he murmured, brushing a kiss to my temple. "That's all this is. I'll stay up. I'll figure out who's who. You just breathe."
I sagged into him, utterly spent, the sounds of our children's soft breathing filling the room, mixing with the steady thrum of my mate's heart beneath my ear.
Outnumbered, yes but not alone.
Cassian's POV -
Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye.
If someone had told me surviving the Blood Rite was easier than this, I would have laughed in their face.
Both babies were asleep.
Somehow, miraculously, Seraphina and Dorian had been fed, changed, soothed, and had drifted off at the same time. Their tiny chests rose and fell in perfect, quiet rhythm from the bassinet near the bed, wings tucked close, faces soft and untroubled.
It felt dangerous to even breathe too loudly.
My mate didn't hesitate.
The moment their breathing evened out, she collapsed beneath the blankets like a felled soldier, exhaustion claiming her instantly.
Her hair spilt messily across the pillow, dark circles faint but unmistakable beneath her eyes. One hand still twitched slightly, as if she were afraid sleep would be stolen from her if she relaxed too fully.
"Wake me when they fuss," she murmured, already slipping away beneath the blankets.
I reached out before I could stop myself, brushing my thumb along her knuckles. "No," I whispered. "Not yet."
Her eyes cracked open, just barely and she let out a long, suffering huff as she blinked up at me. That familiar spark of stubbornness was still there, dulled only by bone-deep exhaustion.
"Cassian," she warned softly. "Please. Stop being cruel. Let me sleep before I cry."
The attempt at humour twisted something in my chest. I swallowed hard.
Gods, I wanted to. I wanted nothing more than to tuck her in properly, wrap my wings around her, and stand guard while she slept for a full, uninterrupted day.
But I'd been watching her too closely these past weeks, the way she forgot to eat, the way she brushed off hunger like it was optional, the way her body seemed to be slowly folding in on itself from giving and giving and never taking.
"I know," I said quietly. "I know, darling."
She narrowed her eyes at me. "Then why are you stopping me?"
Because you're running on nothing, I thought. Because you give every piece of yourself away and leave none behind.
"You haven't eaten," I said instead, keeping my voice gentle. "Tell me—when was the last time you actually had a meal?"
She stared at me for a long moment, lips parting slightly. Then she scoffed. "That's a trick question."
I raised a brow. "That bad, huh?"
She groaned and turned her face into the pillow. "I had... something. Earlier."
"How much earlier?"
"Does porridge from yesterday count?"
My heart sank.
I leaned down, pressing my forehead briefly to hers. "That's not enough," I murmured. "You're feeding two babies. You can't live on almost. You need energy. No wonder you're exhausted."
She sighed, the sound worn thin. "I'll eat later."
Later never came.
I leaned down, pressing a kiss to her hair. "Stay here," I murmured. "I'll be back."
She made a vague sound of protest but didn't move as I slipped from the room, careful not to disturb the babies.
The house was quiet, Velaris sleeping beyond our walls, blissfully unaware of the tiny war being fought nightly within.
I moved through the kitchen on instinct, lighting the stove with ease. Soup first, something warm, easy, nourishing. I stirred slowly, letting the scent fill the space, grounding me.
I wasn't a healer. I wasn't gentle by nature. But I could do this.
When I returned, bowl in hand, she was half-asleep again, cocooned beneath blankets like she might disappear if left alone too long.
"Hey," I murmured, settling beside her. "Sit up for me."
She groaned quietly. "Cass..."
I slid an arm behind her shoulders, easing her upright. "Just a few bites."
Her head fell against my chest, eyes barely open. She looked impossibly small there, worn thin by love and devotion and sleepless nights.
I lifted the spoon. "Open."
She did automatically, obedient even in her exhaustion. I fed her slowly, one spoonful at a time, wiping a stray drop from her lip with my thumb.
She sighed after the third bite. "I forgot how hungry I was."
I smiled softly, chest tight. "That's the problem."
She leaned into me as I continued, her body gradually relaxing, tension bleeding away with every swallow. I felt it, the way her breathing steadied, the way her shoulders lowered.
"You take care of everyone," I murmured, mostly to myself. "But you forget about you."
She hummed sleepily. "You're taking care of me."
"Always," I said without hesitation.
She didn't respond, just breathed, warm and steady against my chest, eyes fluttering closed as if her body had finally remembered it was allowed to rest. I stayed still for a long moment, letting her have that peace, afraid that if I moved too quickly I'd shatter it.
When I eventually shifted, she made a soft sound of protest, fingers curling into my shirt.
"I'm not going anywhere," I murmured.
Her brow smoothed instantly.
I eased her back against the pillows, careful of her healing body, careful of everything. The bowl was empty now, set aside on the nightstand, but she was still awake, barely, eyes heavy, lashes dark against her cheeks.
Her hair had come loose again, strands falling forward into her face. She brushed at it absentmindedly, the motion tired and repetitive, like she'd been doing it for days without realising.
I caught her wrist gently. "Hey," I whispered.
She blinked up at me, confused. "It's in my eyes."
"I know."
I reached for the brush from the dresser, the one she hadn't touched in forever and settled myself behind her on the bed. When I began to run it through her hair, slowly and carefully, she inhaled sharply. Then exhaled. Her shoulders sank.
I worked through the tangles with patient strokes, starting at the ends, fingers gentle despite their size. She let me. Trusted me.
Her head tipped back slightly until it rested against my chest, and I felt that familiar ache bloom again—love so fierce it bordered on painful.
"You keep pulling it out of your face," I said quietly. "All day."
She shrugged weakly. "It's annoying."
"Mmh," I murmured. "Or you're too tired to care."
She didn't argue.
Once it was smooth, I gathered her hair and began to braid it, slow, steady, over and under, like a ritual. Something grounding. Something that felt like before.
Her eyes slid fully closed. "That feels nice," she whispered.
I smiled to myself, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. "Good."
When I finished, I tied it off loosely and let my hands rest on her shoulders. They were tight beneath my palms, so tight I wondered how long she'd been carrying it all there.
"Cass," she murmured faintly, half-asleep.
I didn't answer. I just began to massage her shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the knots I'd felt building for days.
She melted instantly, a soft sound slipping from her lips as her head tipped forward. "Oh," she breathed. "Gods."
I chuckled quietly. "That bad, huh?"
"You have no idea."
I worked carefully, aware of how recently she'd given birth, of how fragile and strong she was all at once. My hands moved with purpose, soothing, grounding, loving her back into her body.
Her breathing slowed further. Her weight sank heavier against me.
"I don't feel like I'm disappearing anymore," she murmured, so quietly I almost missed it.
My chest tightened. "Good," I said, voice rough. "Because I need you right here."
She reached back blindly, finding my hand and squeezing it. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For seeing me."
I swallowed hard and kissed her temple, holding her close as she drifted fully into sleep this time—fed, warm, braided hair neat and out of her face, body finally at rest.
Beyond us, our children slept peacefully. And for one quiet, fragile moment so did she.
A/N - The sleep part is painfully self-indulgent because it's genuinely me and my sleep against the world x
Cassian's POV is meant to be around two weeks later, so sorry if the timeline felt a little jumpy!! I just desperately wanted to write a soft, domestic, sleep-deprived but obsessed with each other moment for them :)
Not the kind you could breathe through or rationalise away with logic and grounding techniques. No this sat deeper. Sharper.
Every step I took down the corridor felt deliberate, heavy with consequence, like the building itself knew what I was about to do and was waiting to see if I'd falter.
My palms were damp. I kept flexing my fingers at my sides, trying to will the tremor out of them.
"It's fine," I muttered under my breath, voice barely audible over the distant hum of the prison. "It's going to be fine."
It didn't feel fine. Nothing about this felt fine. And yet I kept walking... because I'd already chosen.
I saw him before he saw me. Officer River. Daniel.
Standing exactly where I needed him to be, one hand resting near his belt, posture relaxed in that way guards got when they thought everything was under control again.
My gaze dropped just briefly. There. The key. Small. Gold. Exactly like Azriel had said.
My pulse kicked harder.
"Officer River," I called, letting just a touch of warmth slip into my tone. "Sorry—Daniel."
That got his attention.
He turned, brows pulling together slightly, confusion flickering across his face at the shift in my demeanour.
Good. Let him be off-balance.
"How are you?" I asked, offering a small, almost shy smile that I didn't entirely have to fake.
His eyes lingered on me a second longer than usual.
"Grand," he said slowly, clearly trying to place this version of me against the one he was used to. "You?"
"Alright," I replied, stepping closer. "Just... a bit under the weather, if I'm honest."
That part wasn't even a lie. Not in the way he thought.
There was a beat. A pause where I could feel him recalibrating, trying to understand why I wasn't brisk, or distant, or mildly irritated like I usually was with him.
I took a breath. Then leaned into it.
"I actually wanted to say..." I started, letting my voice soften just slightly, "I think we might've gotten off on the wrong foot."
His expression shifted immediately. Interest. Surprise.
"Yeah?" he said, one corner of his mouth lifting.
"I think so," I nodded, stepping just a fraction closer into his space, close enough that it felt intentional. "I've been a bit... guarded."
His posture straightened subtly. Men noticed that shift. Responded to it.
"I can be difficult too," he admitted, almost amused now.
"I doubt that," I said lightly, letting my gaze flicker over him for just a second before meeting his eyes again.
That did it. Hook set.
"So..." I continued, letting just a hint of hesitation lace my tone, "I was thinking maybe we could start over."
His brows lifted. "Oh?"
"Dinner," I said, like the word surprised even me. "Sometime."
There it was. The opening.
He didn't answer right away but the way his attention sharpened, the way his stance shifted just slightly closer—he was interested. Of course he was.
"I mean—if that's something you'd—"
I cut myself off mid-sentence. My foot caught just slightly against the floor. Or rather I made it. Just enough.
The stumble looked real. Felt real, too, when I let my body tip forward into him.
His hands came up instantly, catching me at the waist. Close. Too close.
"Oh—sorry," I breathed, my hand bracing against his chest.
And then slowly. Deliberately. My fingers slid. Down.
It was subtle. Just enough pressure to feel like something more than balance. Just enough contact to distract, to pull his focus exactly where I needed it.
His breath shifted. I felt it. "Careful," he murmured, voice lower now.
"I know," I said softly, letting my gaze lift to his again.
Close enough to make it mean something. Close enough to make him stop thinking about anything else.
My other hand moved. Quick. Precise.
Years of controlled movement, of subtle observation, of knowing how to act without drawing attention.
The key slipped free.
And just like that I pulled back. Distance returned. Air rushed back into my lungs like I'd been holding it too long.
"I'm okay," I said quickly, smoothing down my slacks, reassembling myself piece by piece like nothing had just happened. Like I hadn't just crossed a line I could never uncross.
Daniel was still watching me. Still caught somewhere between curiosity and interest.
"Dinner, yeah?" he said, a small grin forming now.
I forced a smile back. "Yeah," I nodded lightly. "We'll figure something out."
I stepped back another pace. Grounding. Separating.
"I actually have a session now," I added, adjusting the files in my hands to give myself something to focus on. "With Rhysand."
Recognition flickered.
"Ah," he said, clearly pleased by the shift in tone between us. "Well—don't let me keep you."
"I won't," I replied, offering one last look before turning away.
I didn't run. I didn't rush. Every step down the corridor was measured, controlled, even as my heart slammed violently against my ribs.
The key felt heavy in my pocket. Like it was burning through the fabric. Like it knew.
This was it. No more hypotheticals. No more spiralling. No more pretending this was just something I was thinking about.
I was doing it.
The plan played over in my head again. Find Rhys. Hand off the key. Leave early. Say I'm sick. A headache. Nausea. Something believable. Walk out.
Simple. On paper.
My fingers brushed against the outline of the key through the fabric. Cold. Real.
Not imagined. Not exaggerated by nerves or impulse or whatever reckless part of me had decided to say yes.
I had taken it. I had handed it over. I had walked out of that prison like nothing had changed, like I hadn't just set something irreversible into motion.
And now I was here.
The next part of the plan was where everything inside me began to unravel. Not outwardly. Not in any way anyone else could see.
But beneath the surface, quietly, steadily, I was coming apart.
Night had settled in fully by the time I reached the woods.
Thick. Heavy. The kind of darkness that swallowed everything beyond the reach of your headlights and left you with nothing but silhouettes and imagination.
I had parked exactly where I'd been told. Exactly where he had told me.
A narrow clearing just off the road, half-hidden by overgrowth and shadow, the kind of place no one would stumble across by accident.
And there was the tree.
Large. Twisted. Its trunk curved unnaturally, bending outward before hooking back in on itself like something frozen mid-reach.
Impossible to miss. Impossible to mistake.
The engine was off. The silence was worse.
My hands rested on the steering wheel, fingers tightening every few seconds without me realising, grip loosening only when the tension became too much to ignore.
My heart wouldn't slow. It hadn't slowed since I left. Each beat sharp. Loud. Unrelenting.
I could feel it in my throat. In my wrists. In the hollow space just beneath my ribs.
This was it. There was no pretending otherwise now.
No clinical distance. No rationalisation. No carefully constructed justifications to make this feel like anything less than what it was.
I was aiding an escape. I was waiting for them. For him.
A shaky breath left me as I leaned back slightly in the seat, tilting my head against the headrest, eyes closing for just a moment. Just one.
"Breathe," I whispered to myself.
In. Out. Again. It didn't help.
Every sound felt amplified. The faint rustle of leaves shifting in the wind. The distant crack of something in the underbrush. The low hum of the world carrying on beyond this moment, completely unaware of what was happening here.
Or maybe it did know. Maybe everything did.
My gaze flicked to the rearview mirror. Then the side mirror. Then back to the darkness ahead.
Over and over again, like if I looked enough times something would change. Something would appear.
Nothing did.
Time stretched. Warped. Minutes felt like hours. Or maybe it had been hours.
I couldn't tell anymore.
My fingers slid from the steering wheel to my lap, pressing into the fabric there, grounding myself in something physical. Something real.
Because everything else felt like it was slipping just slightly out of reach.
What if they were caught? The thought came fast. Sharp. Uninvited. What if this had already gone wrong? What if the alarm went off the second they tried to move? What if someone noticed?
What if—
A sound cut through the night. Distant. Faint. Unmistakable. The alarm.
My entire body went rigid. Every muscle locking, breath catching somewhere high in my chest as I turned sharply toward the direction it was coming from.
Even from this distance, I could hear it. Could feel it. That same blaring, violent sound tearing through the quiet like it had the day of the riot.
Only this time I knew exactly what it meant.
"No..." I whispered, the word barely forming.
Red lights flickered faintly in the distance, barely visible through the trees but enough. Enough to send something cold flooding through my veins.
They were caught. That was it. That had to be it. Everything inside me dropped.
My hand moved without thinking, turning the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life too loud in the silence, too final. Too real.
Leave. The thought came immediately. Loud. Urgent. Overpowering. Leave now.
Before anyone sees you. Before anyone connects you to this. Before it all collapses back onto you and drags you down with it.
My foot hovered over the pedal. Just press it. Just drive. This never happened. You were never here.
But I didn't move because another thought followed. Quieter but heavier.
What if they're not?
My grip tightened on the wheel again, knuckles straining as I stared out into the darkness, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might tear through my chest.
What if they made it? What if this was just part of it? A distraction. A delay. A necessary chaos.
What if he was coming?
My breathing turned shallow, uneven, every inhale catching slightly as I forced myself to stay still. To wait. Just a little longer. Just—
Something moved.
At first I thought it was my imagination. A trick of the shadows. Of the trees shifting. Of my mind trying to make sense of something that wasn't there.
But then it happened again. Movement. Real. Closer this time.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs as I leaned forward, eyes straining into the darkness, trying to focus, trying to see.
Shapes. Figures. Breaking through the tree line. Fast. Purposeful. My breath caught.
And then—I saw them.
Azriel's POV -
I had never felt anything like this.
Not in all the years I'd spent inside those walls, not in the fights, not in the carefully calculated risks, not even in the moments where everything could have gone wrong and I'd walked away anyway.
This was something else entirely.
Adrenaline burned through my veins like fire, sharp and relentless, every step through the woods hitting the ground harder than the last as we ran.
Branches snapped underfoot. Leaves tore at my clothes. The cold night air clawed into my lungs, but I barely felt it.
Rhys was ahead, moving with that same controlled precision he always had, even now. Cassian was behind me, louder, heavier, but just as fast.
And me? I was locked on one thing. One place. One person.
She better be there.
The thought hit harder than anything else. Not the guards. Not the alarms. Not the fact that everything we'd built could collapse in seconds if this went wrong.
Her. Waiting. Or not.
Then I saw it. The clearing. The car. Her. Relief didn't come softly. It slammed into me.
"She's there," I muttered, not even sure if the others heard me.
Didn't matter. We were already moving faster. We didn't hesitate. Didn't slow. Didn't stop until we were there.
The car door opened fast and I slid into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of her hitting me immediately, grounding me in a way nothing else had in the last hour.
Cassian and Rhys piled into the back, the doors slamming shut one after the other, the space suddenly too small, too full, too real.
Silence. For half a second. That was all it took.
"You did it," she breathed.
Her voice was unsteady, thin with disbelief, her hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly her knuckles were strained.
I turned my head, looking at her properly for the first time since reaching the car. Really looking.
Her wide eyes. The tension in her shoulders. The way her chest rose too quickly, like she hadn't quite caught up to the fact that we were actually here.
That it had worked.
A smirk pulled at my mouth despite everything.
"You doubted me?" I asked, voice low, edged with something sharper than teasing.
Her lips parted, like she was about to argue, I didn't give her the chance. I leaned in.
The kiss wasn't gentle. Wasn't careful. It was collision more than anything, mouths crashing together, breath stolen instantly, the force of it knocking whatever words she'd had right out of her.
My hand came up, sliding into her hair, gripping just enough to keep her there, to anchor her to me as I deepened it.
She tasted exactly like I remembered. Better, maybe. Real. Alive. Here.
She responded, of course she did. There was no hesitation now, no uncertainty, just that same pull that had dragged us both past every line we should have respected.
Teeth clashed. Breath tangled. Heat surged fast and sharp between us.
For a second, the world narrowed down to nothing but her. Just her.
We only broke when we had to. When air became necessary. I pulled back slowly, my gaze still locked on hers, my thumb brushing briefly along her jaw before I let my hand fall.
The taste of her lingered. It always did.
"Where are we going?" she asked, breathless, still slightly dazed.
I didn't hesitate. "Your apartment."
That snapped her back. Her entire body stiffened slightly, her head turning toward me sharply.
"What?" she said, the word almost disbelieving.
I leaned back into the seat, forcing myself into something resembling calm despite the energy still thrumming under my skin.
"It's the smartest place we can go," I said evenly. "No one's looking for three escaped inmates in a prison psychologist's apartment."
Rhys didn't argue. Cassian didn't either. That was enough.
She hesitated. I saw it, the flicker of doubt, the rapid calculations behind her eyes, the weight of what this meant settling heavier on her shoulders with every passing second.
"Trust me," I added, quieter now.
Not forceful. Not commanding. Just certain.
Her gaze lingered on me for a second longer. Then she nodded. Her hands trembled slightly as she turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, loud in the quiet, grounding and exposing all at once.
The radio crackled on automatically. Static. Then a voice.
"...three inmates have escaped custody earlier this evening—"
Every head in the car turned toward it.
"...considered highly dangerous—repeat, highly dangerous—members of the public are urged not to approach—"
Her breath hitched. I saw it. The way her fingers tightened again. The way her shoulders tensed just slightly higher.
"...if sighted, contact authorities immediately—do not engage—"
I reached out and shut it off. Silence flooded back in. Heavy. Thick.
My gaze shifted back to her. I watched her swallow, watched her push a hand through her hair like she was trying to shake the weight of it off.
Trying to steady herself. Trying to keep moving. Good.
She put the car into gear. Started driving. I didn't look away. Not from her. Not from the way she handled it.
The fear. The choice. The fact that she was still here. Still driving. Still choosing this.
Slowly, deliberately, my hand moved. Resting against her thigh. Warm. Solid. Real. I gave it a light squeeze. Reassuring. Grounding.
Her breath softened just slightly. And then she smiled. Small. Quick. But there.
I leaned back in my seat, finally allowing myself to feel it fully. The space. The movement. The absence of walls. Of bars. Of limits.
And sitting beside me—the reason it had been worth it.
I let my head tilt slightly, eyes drifting shut for just a second as the car sped forward into the night.
Freedom had never tasted so good.
A/N - The big escape!!I'm not even going to pretend I could write a detailed prison escape plan because unfortunately I am not Michael Scofield, so we're all just going to nod and accept that the boys are smart and competent x
Azriel seeing her waiting for them? Fully risking everything for him? Oh he is SICK over it in the best way possible. This man has never been more obsessed in his life!!
Meanwhile she is internally having approximately seventeen breakdowns per minute while trying to act normal :)
Never, not once, in my long, ridiculous, immortal life had I imagined I would end up here.
Very pregnant. Very uncomfortable. And very much carrying the child of Cassian, General of the Night Court's armies.
The same Cassian who laughed too loud, loved too fiercely, and had muscles that could probably qualify as architectural landmarks. The same Cassian the Mother herself had seen fit to declare my mate, my fate, before promptly deciding, yes, now is the perfect time for you two to bring a child into this world.
I shifted on the couch for what felt like the thousandth time, my back screaming in protest as my stomach strained against the fabric of my dress, round and heavy and unmistakably ready.
Rhysand took one look at me and actually gasped.
"Mother above," he said, violet eyes going theatrically wide as he scanned me from head to toe. "You look ready to pop."
I bared my teeth at him. "Do not make me commit treason by strangling you, Rhysand."
I attempted to stand with dignity. I failed spectacularly.
Rhys just laughed, the sound bright and infuriatingly amused. "I'm just saying," he added, entirely unrepentant. "You're huge."
"I am pregnant, you insufferable asshole," I snapped, even as I begrudgingly accepted his offered hand and let him haul me upright.
He hummed thoughtfully, eyes drifting, lingering, on my stomach as his hand rested there without permission. "Maybe it's because Cassian is built like a mountain. All that... size has to come from somewhere."
"Oh, I do have bigger muscles than you."
Cassian's voice cut in smoothly as he strode into the room, wings brushing the doorway as he went.
In one effortless movement, he plucked me straight out of Rhysand's arms and against his chest like I weighed nothing at all.
I melted into him despite myself.
Rhys scoffed. "Keep telling yourself that."
"I don't have to," Cassian shot back with a grin. "It's objectively true."
Rhys opened his mouth again, eyes dancing with mischief. "I can't even imagine the damage it's gonna do, pushing out a baby with Cassian's head and—"
"Rhysand!"
My shriek echoed through the room as I smacked his arm hard enough to make him hiss.
He threw his hands up in surrender, laughter sparkling in his eyes. "I'm just saying! It's a valid concern!"
Cassian chuckled but then his expression shifted. Subtle. Instant. Terrifying.
"Okay, sweetheart," he said carefully, lowering his voice as his hands tightened just a fraction around me. "Not to panic you, but you've either peed yourself... or your water just broke."
The world went very, very still. I looked down.
And then I sighed. "It broke."
Rhys's amusement vanished immediately. "You alright?" he asked, suddenly all High Lord, sharp and serious.
The panic hit like a wave. Hot. Overwhelming.
"Fuck—fuck, fuck—no!" I shouted as Cassian moved without hesitation, scooping me up properly now, wings flaring as he turned for the stairs. "This was not how I planned this!"
"I've got you," Cassian murmured, forehead pressing briefly to mine as he started up the steps. "I've got you. Breathe."
Rhys was already backing away. "I'll get Madja."
And with a blink of darkness, he was gone.
Leaving me clinging to my mate, heart racing, body trembling, the reality crashing down hard and fast.
Our child was coming. And there was absolutely no stopping it now.
Cassian barely slowed as he carried me down the hall, wings flaring wide to clear doorways, every muscle in his body coiled tight with urgency. I clutched the front of his leathers, another wave of pain rolling through me so violently my vision blurred.
"Cassian," I gasped, nails digging in. "Cass—"
"I've got you," he said again, firmer this time, voice low and steady even as panic flickered in his eyes. "I've got you. You're safe. I'm right here."
The room was already prepared, soft light glowing from faelights, the bed turned down, fresh linens waiting.
Madja appeared moments later, calm as death and twice as terrifying, her sharp eyes taking everything in at once.
"Lay her down," she ordered.
Cassian did so with reverence, easing me onto the bed as if I were made of glass instead of sweat and fear and aching bone.
Madja's hands were brisk but gentle as she examined me. "You've done well to make it this far," she said. "But it's time."
Time. That word echoed as another contraction tore through me, brutal and unrelenting.
I screamed, there was no dignity left to cling to and Cassian was instantly at my side, one hand gripping mine, the other brushing damp hair from my face.
"Breathe," he murmured, pressing his forehead to mine. "Just breathe with me."
"I can't," I yelled. "It hurts—Mother, it hurts so bad—"
"I know," he whispered, eyes bright with something dangerously close to tears. "I know. But you're not alone. I'm right here."
Madja's voice cut through the haze. "When I tell you to push, you push. Not before. Save your strength."
Hours blurred together in agony and effort. Time ceased to exist, measured only by pain and breath and Cassian's hands anchoring me to the world. My throat burned from screaming. My body felt like it was splitting apart, every nerve screaming betrayal.
"I can't do this," I cried at one point, shaking my head wildly. "I can't, Cassian—please—"
"Yes, you can," he said fiercely, gripping my hand harder. "You are the strongest person I know. Stronger than me. Stronger than anyone."
Madja nodded once. "Push. Now."
I bore down with everything I had left, a broken scream ripping free as the pain crescendoed into something unbearable—
A cry. High. Sharp. Alive.
The world snapped into focus.
Madja lifted a tiny, squirming bundle, wings no bigger than my hand fluttering weakly as she cleaned her off. "A girl," she announced.
I sobbed, the sound half-laugh, half-cry as Cassian's breath left him in a rush, his face utterly undone.
"A girl," he whispered, reverent. "We have a daughter."
Madja placed her gently against my chest, warm and perfect and impossibly small. The moment she touched me, something cracked open inside my chest so violently I thought it might kill me.
She was beautiful.
"She's real," I breathed. "Cassian—she's real—"
He brushed his thumb over her tiny fingers, eyes shining. "She's ours."
And then another pain seized me—worse than before.
I groaned, body arching slightly as my hands clawed at the sheets. "No—no, no, Madja, something's wrong—"
Madja froze. Then her brows knit together. She checked me again. Silence stretched, heavy and terrifying.
"Interesting," she murmured.
"What?" Cassian snapped. "What do you mean interesting?"
Madja straightened slowly. "It would seem," she said calmly, "that you are not finished."
I stared at her in horror. "What."
She glanced between us. "There is another child."
The room went dead quiet. I turned my head weakly and smacked Cassian's arm with what little strength I had left. "This is your fault."
He blinked. Then laughed, actually laughed, breathless and disbelieving. "No wonder you were so huge."
"I swear to the Mother," I panted, eyes wild, "do not make me do this again."
Cassian sobered instantly, panic flashing fresh and sharp. "Hey—hey," he said, cupping my face. "You're safe. Madja's here. I'm here. Everything's alright."
"I can't," I whispered, tears streaming freely now. "I don't have anything left. Don't make me—please—"
Madja placed a firm hand on my shoulder. "You can," she said. "And you will. One more time."
Cassian leaned down, pressing his brow to mine. "Just one more," he murmured. "Then I'll never ask anything of you again. I promise."
Another contraction slammed through me, merciless and unforgiving.
"Push," Madja ordered.
I screamed Cassian's name as I did, clutching him like an anchor, pouring everything I had into that final effort. Pain split me open.
Another cry filled the room. Lower this time. Stronger.
Madja lifted another bundle, wings already stretching wide as the baby protested the world with impressive lungs.
"A boy."
I collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing in exhausted disbelief as Cassian made a broken sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry.
"A girl," he whispered. "And a boy."
Madja placed our son beside his sister, and Cassian gathered us all into his arms, wings wrapping around us in a cocoon of warmth and protection.
"My family," he breathed, voice wrecked. "My beautiful family."
I closed my eyes, pain fading beneath the weight of love so immense it left me breathless.
Twins. And somehow, despite everything, I'd never felt more whole.
Cassian's POV -
Hours had passed within the quiet sanctuary of our room.
Hours since the screaming, the fear, the blood and terror that had nearly broken me in half. Hours since Madja had finally nodded in satisfaction and left us alone, muttering something about "remarkable resilience" and "never ceasing to amaze her."
She had made sure, repeatedly, that everyone was alive, whole, and safe before she went.
I still didn't think my heart had fully restarted.
The four of us lay tangled together across the bed, the sheets rumpled and faintly scented with healing magic and lavender.
My wings curved protectively around us without conscious thought, cocooning the love of my life and the two impossibly small beings resting on her chest.
Our children. My chest ached every time I looked at them.
Our daughter slept peacefully, her tiny face relaxed, mouth parted just slightly as if she were dreaming of something kind. One delicate wing was tucked close to her body, the other draped messily across her brother's arm like she already claimed him as hers.
Our son was quieter but no less solid, his little fist curled tight in the fabric of my shirt, grip surprisingly strong. Even asleep, he seemed grounded, steady.
Balanced. Perfect.
"They're so beautiful," she whispered, voice hoarse but reverent, her finger tracing the curve of our daughter's cheek with infinite care.
I watched the way her eyes softened. Watched the way pain still lingered faintly in her expression but was eclipsed by wonder.
"They take after their mother," I said, my voice rougher than I meant it to be.
She laughed softly, exhaustion and affection mingling. "Liar."
I leaned down, brushing my knuckles gently over our son's head. "Alright," I amended. "Maybe they got their looks from you and their stubbornness from me."
Her lips twitched. Then she winced slightly as she shifted. "I'm still not forgiving you for making me go through that twice."
I opened my mouth automatically. "Hey, it took two to tango, I didn't—" I stopped. Slowly cowered beneath her glare "... I will shut up now."
She huffed, then laughed, quiet, broken, real. The sound hit me harder than any blade ever had.
A knock echoed softly at the door. I stiffened instinctively, wings tightening, but she nodded tiredly.
"It's okay."
I rose carefully, easing myself free before padding to the door. When I opened it, I was met with a familiar sight.
Mor stood front and centre, eyes already shining. Azriel hovered just behind her, shadows unusually subdued. Rhys leaned casually against the doorframe, though his gaze flicked past me instantly, sharp and hungry with curiosity. Amren lingered near the back, arms crossed.
"Well?" Mor demanded softly. "Can we come in, or are you going to make us beg?"
I stepped aside. They entered like a tide, slow, reverent, suddenly hushed.
Mor clapped a hand over her mouth the moment she saw them. Azriel stopped dead, shadows curling inward as if stunned. Rhys went utterly still.
Amren tilted her head. "Two," she observed. "I was wondering." She looked up at me, silver eyes sharp. "You survived."
Barely, I thought. Aloud I said, "we all did."
Mor crossed the room in three careful steps, crouching beside the bed. "Can I—?"
My mate nodded, smiling faintly.
Mor didn't touch, just looked. "They're perfect," she whispered.
Rhys cleared his throat. "So," he said lightly, though his voice wobbled just a bit. "Do these miracles have names, or are you still arguing?"
My mate glanced up at me. I smiled.
"Seraphina," she said softly, brushing our daughter's hair back. "And Dorian."
The room went quiet.
Azriel inclined his head once. "Strong names."
"Fitting," Amren added. "Very fitting."
Rhys grinned. "I knew there was more than one. I felt it."
My mate looked at him and then... started sobbing. Full-on, shoulders-shaking, breathless sobs.
Rhys froze. "Oh fuck," he said immediately. "No—no, I was joking. I swear I was joking—"
I was already moving, at her side in a heartbeat, gathering her close while carefully minding the babies.
She shook her head, laughing through tears. "No Rhys—it's not that—I'm just—"
Her voice broke completely.
"It's over," she whispered. "It hurt and I was scared and I thought I couldn't do it—and now it's over. And I have them. I have them."
Rhys visibly deflated, then softened, crossing the room to kneel beside us. "You did incredible," he said quietly. "Both of you."
I kissed her temple, holding my family like I might never let go.
Two heartbeats against my chest. Two futures. Two reasons the world suddenly made sense.
A/N - First part and we're already starting with chaos. The birth... and surprise twins!!
Turns out everyone blaming Cassian's ridiculous Illyrian genes for the size bump was only half right—there were actually two tiny terrors in there the whole time :)
Also, if the names are awful, please look away respectfully. Seraphina was chosen at random and yes, Dorian is absolutely from Throne of Glass x
OHHHHH to build off of last anons request maybe reader could know that they’re mates but he’s completely oblivious bc he’s so into mor and she can feel everything he feels for her and it’s super angsty and depressing ugh idk idk
i can try work this in somehow but i might keep it subtle (once i acc get to writing) 🫶🏼
i haven’t written anything new in weeks and i’m a bit worried 😭
um hi queen ik you don’t take requests and i’m not sure if this counts as one per say but i was talking with a friend and we were like wouldn’t it be diabolical if mor had a sister who was in love with az??? and then she kinda dared me to um sent to request to a writer i loved and um u cane probably tell that i lost the bet… ummmm hugs and kissed and love and have a nice day/night 🤍
hii love i can add this to my list (there is an idea brewing) but as of rn im in a writing slump so i can't guarantee when it'll be written :(
also very honoured to hear that you chose to send the request to me thank you angel <33
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There was no softer way to phrase it, no gentler version I could offer myself to make it sound less unhinged, less dangerous, less... real.
Normal people didn't sit alone in their apartments at midnight, staring at nothing, replaying the same conversation over and over again like it might somehow change if they thought about it hard enough.
Normal people didn't consider helping a prisoner escape.
And yet I was.
The thought had lodged itself somewhere deep and immovable, burrowing in and refusing to be ignored no matter how many times I tried to shut it down.
It followed me everywhere. Into the shower. Into sleep, what little of it I managed. Into every quiet moment where my mind had nothing else to cling to.
Help me escape.
Three simple words. Quiet. Controlled. Not desperate. Not frantic. That was what made it worse.
He hadn't begged. He'd trusted.
I pressed my palms against my eyes, exhaling shakily as I leaned back against my couch, the silence of my apartment pressing in around me.
It felt too still. Too normal. Like the world hadn't tilted completely off its axis when, very clearly, mine had.
"This is insane," I muttered under my breath.
Because it was. This was how it started, wasn't it? That thought came sharp and unwelcome.
This was the part where I lost perspective. Where I blurred lines that should never be blurred. Where I became another case study, another cautionary tale whispered about in lectures and written up in reports.
I huffed out a dry, humourless laugh.
"Harley Quinn," I murmured to myself, shaking my head slightly. "That's who I am."
The comparison settled too easily. A smart woman. A trained professional. Someone who should know better.
Drawn in anyway.
Pulled under by charisma and intensity and the illusion of something deeper, something misunderstood. Convincing herself she could see what no one else did.
That she was different. That he was different. That she could handle it.
"No—that's not me," I said aloud but it didn't sound convincing, even to my own ears.
Because the truth was, I didn't feel manipulated. That was the part I couldn't reconcile.
If this were simple, if he'd coerced me, pressured me, cornered me into it, it would be easy to walk away. Easy to shut it down and file it neatly under 'boundary violation' and 'inappropriate attachment.'
But it didn't feel like that.
It felt like a choice. My choice. And that was infinitely more dangerous.
I pushed myself upright, pacing slowly across the room, my arms wrapping around myself as if I could physically hold myself together long enough to make sense of this.
"He's not a good person," I said quietly, testing the words.
They didn't land the way they should have.
I stopped, frowning slightly, because that wasn't entirely true.
He wasn't innocent. I knew that. I wasn't naive enough to pretend otherwise. He had done things, serious things. Violent things. But—
My mind shifted, unbidden, back to that session. The one with all three of them. The one where everything had clicked into place in a way I hadn't expected.
Control. Precision. Intent. Not chaos. Not impulsivity. Not meaningless.
They hadn't denied it. Not really. They'd skirted around it, deflected, but there had been truth there if you looked closely enough.
They hadn't killed without reason. That didn't make it right. But it made it... different.
I exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through my hair as I tried to organise the thoughts that refused to stay in neat, professional lines.
"They targeted people," I murmured. "Specific people."
Abusers. Traffickers. Rapists. Men who hurt others in ways the system often failed to punish properly.
Vigilantes. The word slipped in before I could stop it. I stilled.
"That's not justification," I added quickly, sharper now, as if correcting myself would somehow restore balance.
It didn't.
Because even as I said it, another part of me, the part I was trying very hard not to listen to, pushed back.
It's not the same as random violence.
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry. This was the problem. This was exactly the problem.
I was rationalising. I knew I was.
I could see it happening in real time, every justification, every careful reframe, every subtle shift in language that made it easier to sit with what he was asking of me.
Easier to consider saying yes.
I sank back onto my couch, staring blankly ahead as the weight of it all pressed down on me.
"This is how it happens," I whispered. Not all at once. Not dramatically. Slowly.
A step here. A thought there. A line crossed so quietly you almost didn't notice until you were already standing on the other side of it.
And I was already there.
That was the truth I couldn't avoid. I had crossed the line the moment I hadn't said no. Not clearly. Not definitively.
I closed my eyes, Azriel's voice echoing in my head. He hadn't pushed. He didn't need to.
Because somehow, somewhere along the way I had started wanting the same thing. Or at least... wanting him enough that the rest didn't feel as impossible as it should have.
My chest tightened slightly at the thought, something unfamiliar and unsettling twisting beneath it.
Fear. Not of him. That was the problem. It should have been him. Instead, it was myself.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, the question barely audible.
No answer came. Just the same quiet, persistent pull.
Toward him.
And the terrifying realisation that, no matter how much I dissected it, rationalised it, fought against it I hadn't decided to walk away.
The corridor felt different when I returned.
Not physically, nothing had changed. The same grey walls. The same reinforced doors. The same hum of fluorescent lights overhead that never quite let you forget where you were.
But something in me had shifted.
Every step felt heavier. More deliberate. Like I was walking toward something I couldn't undo.
Daniel glanced at me once as we moved, his expression unreadable for a moment before he looked away again.
"You okay?" he asked, quieter than usual.
Not professional concern. Something closer to instinct.
"Yes."
The word came easier than it should have.
He didn't push. Just gave a short nod and gestured forward. The door was already there. Waiting.
I paused for half a second before stepping inside. He was already seated. Of course he was.
Azriel didn't look surprised to see me, not outwardly but something shifted in his posture the moment I walked in. Subtle. Controlled. A tightening that released just as quickly.
Like he'd been waiting. Like he'd known I would come back.
The door shut behind me with a heavy click. The sound echoed louder than usual.
I moved to my chair, setting my notebook down with hands that were steadier than I felt. Sitting. Crossing one leg over the other. Every motion deliberate. Practiced.
Professional. Or at least something that resembled it.
"Hello, Azriel."
My voice held. Barely.
His gaze didn't leave me. Not for a second. "Doc," he replied, low and even but there was something underneath it now. Something sharper. More intent.
Silence stretched. Not awkward. Heavy.
I looked down briefly, opening my notebook, not because I needed it but because I needed something to anchor myself.
Azriel leaned back, watching me differently now. Not pushing. Not pressing. Letting me come to it. He knew. Of course he knew.
My fingers tightened slightly around my pen before I set it down completely.
Enough. No more circling it. No more pretending I hadn't already crossed the line.
"I've thought about what you asked."
The words felt heavier out loud. His attention sharpened immediately. I held his gaze, forcing myself not to look away this time.
"You want the key."
Not a question. A statement.
"Yes."
Simple. Certain. Of course it was.
My heart was beating too fast now, the sound of it loud in my ears as the weight of what I was about to say settled fully into place.
There was still time to stop. Still time to pull back. To say no. To walk away and never come back again.
I didn't. I exhaled slowly. And stepped over the line completely.
"I'll help you."
The words fell between us, quiet, controlled. Final. For a moment, nothing.
And then something in his expression changed. Not surprise. Not relief. Something deeper. Darker. Like he'd expected this. Like this had always been the outcome.
And somehow that should have terrified me more than anything else.
It didn't. It just made it real.
Azriel's POV -
I'll help you
The words didn't just linger. They embedded. Deep. Permanent. Like something that had been waiting to exist and finally found its place.
I didn't react the way most people would have expected. There was no visible shift, no outward crack in the control I wore like a second skin. No sudden movement, no sharp inhale.
But inside something settled. Something that had been coiled tight for weeks finally loosened just enough to breathe.
She chose me. Not coerced. Not cornered. Chose. That mattered more than anything.
More than the key. More than the plan. More than the exit I'd spent the better part of a year mapping out piece by careful piece.
Her. Always her.
The image of her stayed with me long after the session ended, the way she held my gaze when she said it, the quiet certainty beneath the fear she was still trying to bury.
She knew what she was doing. And she did it anyway.
A slow, dangerous satisfaction followed me through the rest of the day, threading through everything, sharpening everything.
I'd built something in her. Or maybe... uncovered it. Either way it was mine now.
The cafeteria was loud.
It always was. Noise layered over noise, metal trays scraping, voices overlapping, the constant hum of too many bodies in one space pretending they weren't all one wrong move away from snapping.
I sat where I always did. Back to the wall. Clear view of every entrance. Habit. Control.
The tray in front of me went untouched for longer than usual, my mind elsewhere, back in that room, replaying every detail with a precision that bordered on obsession.
Her voice. Her hesitation. The moment she stopped fighting herself.
I barely registered the first comment. Just another voice in the background. Another inmate talking too loud, too careless.
Then I heard it. Her. Not her voice. Her name. Something in me stilled. Completely.
My grip tightened slightly around the plastic fork in my hand, the cheap material bending under the pressure without breaking.
"... she's different," one of them said, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world. "Not like the others."
Another voice laughed. "Yeah? What's a man gotta do to get a session with her?"
A few chuckles rippled through the table. "Be crazy enough, I guess."
More laughter. It should've ended there. It didn't.
"I've seen her walking the corridors," a third voice added, slower now, more deliberate. "Carries herself like she's not scared of anything."
"I'm telling you, she's tight," the first one sighed, voice carrying just enough. "Walks around like she don't know what she does to men in here."
Another snorted. "Yeah? I'd fix that real quick." A pause. "Bet she screams real pretty when you make her."
Laughter. Ugly. Knowing.
"She ain't so professional when you get her on her knees—"
The fork snapped. Clean in half. The sound was quiet but it was enough.
My chair scraped back against the floor as I stood, the noise cutting sharper than it should have through the room. A few heads turned. Not all. Not yet.
I moved before I'd fully decided to. Crossing the space between us in seconds.
They saw me too late.
"What the fu—"
That was all he got out before my hand closed around the front of his shirt and slammed him back into the table hard enough to send it skidding.
The room erupted. Chairs scraping. Shouts. Movement everywhere.
I didn't hear any of it. Didn't care.
He barely had time to react before my fist connected with his jaw, snapping his head to the side with a crack that echoed louder than the room itself.
Someone grabbed at me from behind. Mistake.
I twisted, driving my elbow back hard enough to fold him instantly, not even breaking stride as I turned back to the first one.
He swung blindly. Too slow. Always too slow.
I caught his arm, wrenched it down, and drove him into the ground, the impact rattling through the floor beneath us.
Rage wasn't new but this was something else. Focused. Precise. Personal.
Every hit landed with purpose, with a clarity that cut through everything else.
His voice. His words. The way he'd spoken about her like she was something to take. Something to touch. Something to ruin.
No. I hit him again. And again. And again.
"Back off!" someone shouted.
Didn't matter. Hands grabbed at me again, more this time. It still didn't matter.
It took three of them to finally pull me back, and even then I was still moving, still trying to get to him, something feral snapping against the restraint.
"Enough! Enough—"
"Get him down!"
"Fucking psycho—"
The word barely registered. Neither did "freak" when it followed. I went still before they forced me to. Not because they told me to. Because I was done.
The man on the floor wasn't moving much anymore. Good.
My breathing was steady. Controlled. Like none of it had just happened.
They dragged me back anyway, hands locked tight around my arms, shoving me toward the exit as the room buzzed with something different now.
Not noise. Awareness.
"Solitary," one of the guards snapped. "Again. You just don't learn, do you?"
No answer. Didn't need one. I let them push me forward, my gaze flicking once—just once—across the room.
Cassian was already watching. Of course he was. Grinning like he'd just seen exactly what he'd expected. Rhys leaned back in his seat, calmer, quieter but his eyes were sharper. Calculating. Understanding.
I met their gaze for a fraction of a second. Then I smiled. Small. Brief.
And as they dragged me through the door, I tipped my head slightly. A silent acknowledgement. A promise.
Something had shifted. Something bigger than any of them fully understood yet.
A/N - The beginning is actually so funny to me—she's fully crashing out trying to process what she's feeling, and I'll be honest it's very much giving Harley Quinn and Joker x
The denial is strong, the self-awareness is stronger, and the spiral is spiralling. Ultimately, she does agree, and Azriel is delighted (in a very Azriel kind of way) to say the least :)
Azriel's POV is basically him silently deciding she's his person while also immediately speed running his way into solitary confinement for it. Protective? Yes. Unhinged? Also yes!!
Summary - She was everything Azriel wasn't—bold where he was restrained, loud where he was silent, fearless where he was guarded.
Flirting with the Shadowsinger started as a game, an easy way to watch the most composed male in Velaris lose his composure but somewhere between stolen glances, jealousy, and almost-confessions, the lines began to blur.
What was once harmless fun became something neither of them could ignore—and suddenly, the shadows around him weren't the only thing drawn to her.
Tags - opposites attract, grumpy x sunshine, mutual pining, friends to lovers
Contents -
ﾒ૦ One | The Art of Flirtation | 2.3k words - coming soon
ﾒ૦ Two
ﾒ૦ Three
ﾒ૦ Four
ﾒ૦ Five
ACOTAR Masterlist
A/n - As always content warnings will be at the start of each chapter, so please be sure to read them before continuing.
Another requested fic!! This one is very much grumpy x sunshine energy... except the sunshine is slightly unhinged and determined to make the Shadowsinger lose his mind xx
It is on the shorter side and meant to be a fun, flirty read with lots of teasing, tension, and Inner Circle chaos. No heavy angst, no dramatic heartbreaks—just Azriel suffering through being relentlessly flirted with and everyone else enjoying the show :)
Please don't hesitate to vote or comment along the way, it truly means the world to me <3
