i know you by your heart

He wished he knew how to comfort you. He seemed to have the annoying tendency to freeze up around you. Any ability to form a coherent sentence seemed to flee his mind when he got too close to you, when he thought about you. He was fortunate enough that you didn’t seem to notice, or, if you did, you never mentioned it.

Azriel was flustered around you.

You were everything he ever wanted, and he was so worried about losing you, about messing this up in some way, that he overthought everything he said and did. He was so used to moving with absolute confidence—not necessarily in himself, but in what he was meant to say and do. He knew what was expected of him, but now, with you? Now he was desperate and infatuated and—

Your hand slid into his, your cold fingers entwining with his scarred ones, and Azriel’s spiral grinded to a halt. Your eyes met his, wide and nervous and eager. Your lips pulled into a small smile, your hand squeezing his as if his touch, his presence, was enough to ground you. 

“This is fine,” you said, nodding to yourself as you glanced at the wooden double doors. Your gaze flicked back to him, the warm faelights surrounding the door making your eyes twinkle, and Azriel had to remind himself to breathe. “You’ll stay with me, right?”

Azriel blinked, his mind lagging as he processed your words. One of his shadows bumped into the back of his head, before spiraling down to wrap around your entwined hands, and Azriel felt his entire body turn warm. He squeezed your hand, his heart skipping when your smile widened into a grin. “Of course I will,” he answered softly.

You bit your bottom lip briefly, a nervous habit of yours, Azriel had noticed. He was entirely certain you had no idea how endearing, how alluring, the tiny motion was—how the darkened skin of your lips when you released the delicate skin tormented him. He wanted to kiss you. Every fiber of his being wanted to tug you close and press his lips to yours, but then doubt crept in and darkened the momentary haze that engulfed his senses.

He wanted to go at your pace. He needed to go slow. Azriel had taken plenty of lovers, but he had never had a partner, and he was quickly learning that this came with an entirely new facet of intimacy he was a stranger to. A form of intimacy so vulnerable it left him rattled—gentle smiles and grazing of hands, chipping away emotional walls he had built centuries ago. 

Azriel shifted just a little closer, his thumb brushing over the back of your hand. Everything about you was intoxicating. Your scent was sweet, like brown sugar and vanilla. Azriel thought at first it was because of the long hours you spent in your bakery, but he had decided that it was just you. Your eyes crinkled at the edges, some of your nerves dulling as the two of you stared into each other's eyes, and Azriel couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his own lips.

Then the door flew open, the hinges creaking slightly with the abrupt motion, causing the two of you to flinch. You curled into Azriel’s side, your hand still clutching his as your arm pressed flush against his, and he had never felt so much pride as he did then, knowing your instincts were to lean on him.

He glared at Nesta, who stood in the doorway with cool and narrowed eyes. Her lips pursed as she took the two of you in, and he felt you go rigid underneath her gaze. “Nesta,” he snapped, his spine prickling with irritation.

Her eyes dragged to his, her lips pulling up into the smallest smirk, and he knew then that this was her version of teasing. “Be glad it was me,” she drawled, stepping back to hold the door open further. She raised her brows expectantly, and Azriel sighed as he glanced at you. Your nerves were back in full force, and yet it was you who smiled hesitantly, and took the first step through the threshold.

Nesta shut the door behind the two of you, the heavy wood shutting with a soft click. Azriel helped you out of your coat, his skin buzzing as your smile turned bashful when his fingers curled around the lapels.

“Cassian is practically chomping at the bit,” Nesta warned, her gaze tracking Azriel as he put your coat and scarf in the closet.

“Wonderful,” Azriel murmured.

When he turned back around, you were still standing there in the foyer, your hands fidgeting at your sides as you took in Nesta. “Hi,” you said, a wide smile breaking out on your face as you gave a small, adorable wave that you promptly dropped. He watched your throat bob, your heart once again pounding in your chest. “I’m Y/N.”

Nesta, thank the Mother, smiled back. “Nesta,” she returned, her icy tone thawing a bit. “We’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N.”

Azriel’s face went hot as you glanced at him. “Oh,” you said, uncertainty lacing your words, “All good things, I hope?”

Nesta scoffed, waving away your worry. “The way Az talks about you—you would think you hung the moon and stars.”

Azriel’s face was molten now, but his embarrassment was entirely worth it to see your shoulders relax and your grin brighten into one unmarred by nerves. It was worth it to feel your joy radiate down the bond, a pulse of euphoria that made his mind fuzzy.

He expected you to follow after Nesta, and he sent you an encouraging smile as you watched her walk down the hall. Instead, you turned toward him, grabbing his hand in both of yours, and you pulled him with you after Nesta.

Azriel felt like he was floating.

~ ~ ~

That night, after bidding his family goodbye and freeing you from their incessant questions, and himself from their relentless teasing, the two of you walked side by side along the Sidra. Azriel had offered to winnow you home—or fly you—but you refused. You always refused those offers, and Azriel never pushed, but part of him wished you would let him, just once.

It was admittedly nice to slow down with you, though. The water trickling along the Sidra was louder in the quiet of the night, at least on this side of the city. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, his wings were nestled tight against his back, and he was begging his shadows not to swarm you. You were close enough beside him that your arm brushed his every so often, every accidental graze making his heart leap and his shadows buzz.

Then you stopped, the gentle click of your footsteps abruptly halting. You grabbed Azriel’s arm before he could really even react, dragging him back a couple of steps so he stood in front of you. “Are you okay?” he asked, his heart rate immediately picking up.

You smiled softly, a smile unlike any of the others you had passed around to his family tonight, and he liked the thought of you having a smile just for him. “I’m fine—Az.” His cheeks reddened at the familial nickname you clearly picked up on. “I didn’t know you liked to be called that,” you added softly, a question hidden in your words.

Azriel shrugged. “Rhys and Cas have called me that since I was a boy.”

You nodded, looking out at the water behind him. “Your family is really nice—close.”

Azriel felt like there was something you weren’t saying, something you were holding back, and suddenly all of his earlier anxiety came rushing back. “They are,” he agreed slowly. “They can be a little much at times—I know that. I’m sorry if—”

“Azriel,” you interrupted gently, your hand squeezing his arm. “They did nothing wrong.” Then with a smaller smile, “I had a good night.”

He could feel the ache in his chest radiating through him, and he was fairly certain that at least some of that was coming from you. “Tell me what else you’re thinking,” he urged gently.

You took a deep breath, pulling your hand away to stick both of them in your coat pockets. Azriel hated it.

“I just—” you started, then shook your head. “I know we’ve only known each other for a month.” Another smile stretched your lips, but this time it didn’t reach your eyes, and it quickly fell. “And I know I just sort of dropped into your lap—and that I’m probably nothing like what you expected as you mate—”

“That’s not true,” Azriel hurried out, the words desperate. He was the one to reach for you this time, his hands curling around your arms, and he saw the way you watched him, the way your eyes widened at his touch. “You’re—you—” Azriel hated that he was fumbling this, that he was struggling to give you these words. “You’re beautiful,” he finally said. “I don’t have a better word for it. Inside and out—you leave me in awe. And I’m so grateful I found you.”

Your eyes glistened in the moonlight, laughing half-heartedly as you wiped away a tear. “I’m sorry,” you said, “This is silly.”

“It’s not,” he assured.

You shrugged, your hands still stuffed in your pockets and Azriel’s hands still gripping your arms. “I guess it just rattled me, being around so many people that know you so well. It—well, it didn’t feel great. I know that’s unfair, I know it’s only been a month, but—”

Azriel’s hands cupped your cheeks, startling you. Your eyes stared into his, wide and unblinking, and when you watched his gaze fall to your lips, he felt you relax into his touch. “Azriel,” you whispered, your breath warm against his cool skin. “You don’t have to.”

His thumb brushed your cheek, and you leaned a little more into his hand. You never balked from his scarred skin, and you never pushed for answers either. Azriel appreciated it, more than you likely knew, but maybe it was time he started peeling away some of his layers for you. You shouldn’t have to ask.

His eyes met yours again, and he thought he might like to fall into your irises, let the way they sparkled under the Velaris sky consume him. “I want to,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched, and your hands now clutched his waist, your hands curled tight in the fabric of his coat. “What are you waiting for then?”

That was a very good question.

Azriel pressed his lips against yours, and his entire world tilted on its axis. His blood rushed a little faster, his skin turning warm in the cold, early winter air. The thread twining the two of you together glowed when you pressed up on your toes to get closer, one of your hands reaching up to thread through the hair at the back of his head. You tasted like the glass of wine you had sipped on all night, mixed with a hint of sugar that made him smile against your lips.

The kiss was sweet—tender. It was unlike anything Azriel had ever experienced in his five centuries of life and he never wanted it to end. When your hand slid around to cup his face, when your fingers brushed his cheek, he felt himself melt a little, drops of his heart falling into yours.

You were the one to break away first, falling back onto your feet and wobbling a bit, Azriel quickly steadying you by a hand on your waist. You giggled, sniffing a bit as a cold breeze washed over the two of you, and Azriel was certain he looked like a lovesick fool as a grin spread across his face. Gods, you were perfect.

Azriel couldn’t help but press one more kiss to your lips, your face now flushed with warmth when he cupped your jaw. “You’ve brought out parts of me even I didn’t know existed,” he murmured, eyes stuck to yours again. Your lips parted, awe washing over your face. “This is just the beginning, Y/N.”

You smiled, that soft and special smile again, and Azriel was floating amongst the moonlit clouds. “I like the sound of that,” you murmured.

~ ~ ~

Azriel was in love.

His heart was irrevocably yours, and there was no other life on this planet he would trust to handle it with as much effortless care as you.

You were joy incarnate, and maybe there was some sick and twisted humor behind the Mother’s choice to link his dark and dreary heart to yours—but he was selfishly so grateful that he belonged to you now.

You were fluttering between booths in the market, your hair a little tangled and errant from the wind today, and a smile so soft it immediately disarmed anyone you approached. Azriel was trying to stay back, to let you shop and chatter to your heart’s desire without his intimidating presence dampening your glee.

It was freezing today, a light dusting of snow laid across the cobblestone streets—but you had insisted on visiting the winter markets, saying that today would be the best day for finding bargains, now that Winter Solstice had passed.

His heart was warm as he watched the silver pendant he gifted you glint in the morning sun, a diamond encrusted starburst that sat against the center of your chest. You had worn it every day since Solstice, and Azriel couldn’t deny the pride he felt when he saw the necklace around your neck. 

Your head snapped to him, your eyes locking on him from across the street, as if you had known where he had wandered off to this entire time. Your eyes were bright as you hurried through the crowd, your steps light and airy as you ran toward him.

“Azriel,” you said excitedly. You looped your arm through his without a second thought, tugging him close against your side before you dragged him into the throng of faeries. “You have to see this booth. She has peppermint chocolates left over from Solstice, and I was so sad I didn’t find any this year. Oh! She has these chocolate covered cherries too, and I know you don’t love sweets, but you do like cherries—”

Azriel could listen to you talk for days on end. Your voice was like a balm for his soul, and your touch—your touch was enchanting. No matter how much time you spent together, Azriel was unraveled by every one of your touches. It was these casual displays of affection that really did him in. The way you pressed your side against his and held onto him as you pointed out sweet after sweet to him.

The way you didn’t mind the stares his presence garnered sometimes. The way you held on just a little bit tighter when you caught the interested gaze of a female across the table. Azriel loved it.

He loved you.

~ ~ ~

Azriel had done his best to shield you from the gory and unsavory details that came with his job. He hated that you knew he had hurt people, that he was feared. He was terrified you might one day wake up and see the blood on his hands, and finally decide to leave him.

That was why, despite every instinct inside him screaming to go to you, he plummeted on the balcony of the House of Wind, and not on the cobblestone street leading toward your house. He groaned as he pushed himself to his feet, cursing the Autumn Court bastards that had ambushed him at the border. He ought to wring Eris’s neck for letting his father’s minions slip through his fingers.

He should have probably found Madja, but he hated the idea of waking her in the middle of the night, when he knew he would heal—eventually. He just needed to shut himself in his room and lick his wounds for a bit, and he would be fine.

Fine enough to finally see you, after weeks apart.

Azriel didn’t know how he didn’t immediately notice you sitting on his bed, but he nearly fell over when he heard your horrified voice murmur, “Oh gods.”

The door shut behind Azriel with a harsh thud, his body falling against it as soon as it closed. He winced when your hands cradled his face, your skin soft and warm against his clammy and dirty cheeks. “Az,” you breathed, your mounting panic making your hands tremble. “What happened?”

One of his hands came up to wrap around yours, gently pulling it away from his face. “I’m okay,” he told you, voice rough with the obvious lie. He would be okay, though, and that’s what mattered. “Just a little bruised.”

“You’re bleeding,” you argued, sliding his arm over your shoulder. His sweet mate, who didn’t hesitate to shoulder the weight of his body that was twice the size of yours. He did his best not to lean too much on you, but his mind was addled with pain and exhaustion and confusion, and he just wanted to melt into your touch.

You guided him into the bathroom, setting him down on the toilet as the bathing pool behind him started to fill. You brushed the hair from his eyes, one of your hands gliding down to cup his jaw, and Azriel couldn’t help but let his head fall into your hand.

“Sweetheart,” you murmured, and Azriel was practically a puddle on the floor. No one had ever called him something so lovely, so soft. No one had ever handled him with so much care.

“I promise,” he said, meeting your eyes. “I’ll be okay.”

“Well, you’re not right now,” you grumbled. Azriel shouldn’t find it as endearing as he did. He knew it probably hurt you to see him hurt—he didn’t want to even imagine if the roles were reversed. 

Azriel flinched when your fingers started working at the buckles of his leathers, making your eyes fly back to his. “Did I hurt you?” you asked, fingers hovering over his abdomen.

“No.” He shook his head. “What are you doing?”

You huffed, going right back to work on his leathers. “We need to get these off of you.”

Azriel’s hand grabbed yours, his eyes wide when he met your exasperated ones. “I am more than capable of—”

“Azriel—” you snapped, fingers tightening around his leathers, making him hiss. You immediately loosened your grip, and a flash of guilt passed through your eyes, making you deflate. “Just let me take care of you?” you pleaded.

Azriel wasn’t going to tell you no. Even if his heart had stopped beating and his shadows had stilled behind him.

So he nodded, and you started undoing his buckles and laces one by one, peeling away the blood soaked fabric until his skin was bare. It was unfair that this was how you were undressing him for the first time.

You tossed his leathers to the side, picking up a cloth and soap then dunking it in the tub. As you wrung the rag out, you glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes, catching him watching you. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

He tracked your movements, his shadows finally breaking from their stupor to circle around you slowly. A drop of water fell to his knee as you let the cloth hover between you, your brows raising expectantly.

Azriel knew he should. He should tell you about his mission—he should be transparent with his mate of all people about the atrocities he faces, and sometimes causes, if you were ever going to accept the bond between your souls. 

He knew that, and yet the words wouldn’t form.

Instead, he swallowed hard, his mouth gone dry, and shook his head slowly. “Not tonight.”

He saw the disappointment in your eyes, no matter how carefully you tried to veil it. He felt the twinge of hurt that pushed through the bond, and Azriel hated himself for it.

“I’m not naive, you know,” you said as you pressed the cloth to his abdomen. Azriel flinched, and this time you didn’t pull away. “I know what you do is dangerous. I know the sacrifices you must make are unimaginable. You don’t have to hide it from me.”

Azriel’s brain was short-circuiting as he listened to your soft voice, as you gently cleaned the blood from his skin. It wasn’t until you pulled away that he realized he should really answer you, but he didn’t have a good response.

He supposed if he wasn’t ready to give you one truth, he could give you another though.

You dunked the cloth in the water, ripples of blood curling away from your hands—his blood, and undoubtedly others. You stood up, moving back to him, this time using the pads of your fingers to gently tilt his chin up. You held his face like that as you wiped the dirt and grime and caked on blood from around his eyes, your finger gently brushing his jaw anytime you went over a cut.

You were so beautiful. There were truly not enough words to describe how perfect you were, and Azriel was appalled when he felt his eyes burn and his nose tingle as he watched you take care of him. He was mortified when your eyes met his and your ministrations stopped.

“Azriel,” you said softly.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, voice rougher than he would have liked. “I’m scared you will look at me differently, if you know the things I’ve done—the things I’m capable of.”

Your face twisted, and Azriel immediately wanted to take his words back and shove them down deep inside. You tossed the cloth into the bath, cupping his face with both of your hands, and Azriel felt a tremble go through him. He had never felt so exposed as he did then, sitting on a toilet with bare and tattered skin, his head—and his heart—in his mate’s soft and gentle hands.

You kissed him.

It was just a chaste kiss, a slow and drawn out press of your lips to his, but it dragged the breath from Azriel’s lungs and left him dazed and blinking as soon as you pulled away. 

Your eyes were locked on his when you said, “I know you don’t remember this, but you saved my life once—before we met.”

Every whirring and buzzing worry circling Azriel’s head ground to a halt. “What?” he rasped. How could he ever forget—

You smiled, the first one you had given him all night, and your thumb brushed against his cheek. “When Velaris was attacked,” you said, voice so soft in the quiet of the night, “I was cornered in the alley behind my bakery. One of Hybern’s monsters had found me—I’ll never forget its face.” Azriel’s hand came up to circle your wrist, his heart aching as your voice trembled. “I thought I was going to die, Azriel. Blood was raining from the sky and screams were piercing the air, and I was staring in the face of what I thought was my end—and then his head fell to the pavement.”

Azriel shook his head, his chest tight. “I don’t remember—how can I not—”

“Sweetheart,” you interrupted gently, “You didn’t even see me—I mean, you obviously knew someone was there, but you came and went like a breeze. You were a little busy defending your city.” That smile again. “But a shadow stayed behind, curling against my neck like a worried pet—and I knew who saved me. I’ve never been scared of you Azriel, but after that day, knowing I lived in a city under your protection made me feel safe.”

Azriel was crying now. His cheeks were damp from the tears that ran down his face and onto your hands. “I don’t want the darkness that taints my soul to ever seep into yours.”

You hummed softly, brushing away the hair that had fallen into his eyes again. “I quite like the dark,” you said, “It’s gentle in its own way. It knows things that would never be found in the light.”

“I don’t deserve you.”

“You do,” you promised, your own eyes glimmering in the moonlight leaking through the windows now. “And you never have to tell me anything you don’t want to, Azriel—but I’m here if you do, and I will love you through it all.”

~ ~ ~

Azriel had never considered himself to be a jealous male.

Was he occasionally temperamental? Yes.

Did he have a history of pining? Unfortunately.

He was never territorial, though. He could still remember the days Cassian would spar with males in their camp after treading too close to a female, the rage that wafted off them in waves as Cassian’s smug ass smirked at them. Azriel was never like that.

No, he wasn’t territorial, and he wasn’t jealous—he was just protective. He would die for the ones he loved, and now that you were at the top of that list, he was just worried about you. Worried about the way the male at the bar kept inching closer, the way your smile grew tighter when he laughed at one of his jokes, and the way you flinched when his hand touched your arm.

Watching his fingers graze your skin turned Azriel’s vision red.

He shrugged off Cassian’s attempt to sit him back down, rage pumping through his veins as his gaze stayed glued to the hand resting on your arm. He really wasn’t thinking when his hands grabbed your waist, physically pulling you away from the male and inserting himself between you and him. Your eyes were wide when you saw him, startled by his sudden appearance. “Az—” you said, “What’s wrong?”

Azriel picked up the arm the male had touched, his disgruntled jeers behind him blurring with the rest of the raucous throughout Rita’s. He dragged his hand up and down the length of your arm, your breath stuttering at his touch. “Are you okay?” he asked, softening the venom that he had been ready to spew at the male behind him.

You blinked, glancing down at your arm in his hand. “I’m okay,” you answered, with a bit of confusion in your tone. “Are you?”

Azriel was practically vibrating with anger, every bit of his restraint being used to face you and to not turn around and grab that male by the throat. “Great,” he said.

“You’re shaking,” you said, your hand coming up to rest on his chest. “And your heart is racing.”

His hand came up to rest on top of yours, finally dropping your arm from his grasp. “I’m okay,” he said, this time a little more convincing—he thought. “I just—I got worried. When I saw that male…”

Understanding dawned on your face, and an amused grin stretched across your face. “Ah,” you said, patting his chest. Azriel only squeezed your hand. “I see.” You peered around his shoulder, and Azriel begrudgingly followed your gaze, relieved to see the male had turned his attention to a female that was not his mate. “He was harmless. A little touchy, if you ask me—” A lot touchy, if you asked Azriel. “But who isn’t when they’re drunk?”

“He shouldn’t just be touching people—”

“No,” you agreed. “He shouldn’t.” Then mischief lit your eyes, and you stepped in closer, your chest brushing against his. “I bet you’re a cuddly drunk.”

Azriel scoffed, leaning into you a little more. Your scent drowned out the sweat and alcohol of the bar, and he much preferred your sweet smell over the suffocating air in Rita’s. “In your dreams, honey.”

~ ~ ~

“Can I touch your wings?”

Azriel nearly dropped the glass of water he had just filled from the kitchen tap. He blinked, taking in the way you were sitting cross-legged on the edge of your bed, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth again. He could see the curiosity eating at the edges of your eyes, and he wondered just how long you had been dying to ask him that.

“You can tell me no,” you said, drawing him out of his shock. “I asked Cassian—”

“You asked Cassian if you could touch his wings?” 

Azriel felt faint.

“No!” you exclaimed, hands shooting out to your sides. “No, of course not. I just—I didn’t know—” You huffed, clearly flustered. Azriel came closer, setting your glass of water on your night stand so he could sit beside you. “He explained that you’re taught to protect your wings as babes—that they’re sensitive, vulnerable—but he said that he didn’t think you would mind if I asked.”

Of course he said that.

“I’m sorry,” you said sheepishly. “That was foolish. I shouldn’t have brought it up—”

Azriel grabbed your hands that were moving around frantically, bringing them down to rest in your lap. Your throat bobbed as you looked at him, your eyes wide and nervous. “Of course you can touch my wings,” he said softly, his words alone making his stomach flip. “But, sweetheart, they’re very…” Azriel felt his face warm. “They’re very sensitive.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Not like that,” he corrected gently. 

You blinked, recognition slowly creeping onto your face. “Oh.” Then you winced, embarrassment clouding your face. “Oh. I can’t believe I asked Cassian—”

“It’s okay,” he assured you, and he would make sure Cassian never brought it up again. “Cassian didn’t mind, I guarantee you.”

You nodded softly, your eyes roving over him, your gaze catching on his lips—then his wings splayed out behind him. When your eyes flit back to him, your pupils blown with your heart beating a little faster in your chest, Azriel forgot how to breathe. “Can I?” you asked softly.

Azriel licked his lips, nodding slowly, anticipation clawing at his chest as he waited for his mate to touch him. You slowly untwined your hands from his, shifting so you faced him more, your hand trembling slightly as you let it hover over the inner membrane of his wing.

When your fingers finally grazed the delicate skin, Azriel grappled for every last thread of restraint he possessed to hold still, to let you explore this part of him—months of growing tension and longing to tip over this new edge of intimacy with his mate, and he was wholly unprepared for just how transcendent your touch was. Your fingers dragged up his wing and then back down one of the ridges, your skin soft and warm against him, leaving a trail of unimaginable pleasure in their wake.

When you traced back up the ridge, and your fingers trailed along the arch to the inner membrane again, the shudder that escaped Azriel was inevitable. You paused, your fingers lifting from him. “I’m okay,” he said, his voice embarrassingly rough.

He noticed it then, the shift in your scent—your warm and sugary scent turning hot and intoxicating in an entirely new way. He felt the desire that twirled inside you pulse down the bond, and Azriel’s own arousal intensified ten-fold. 

You grabbed his face in your hands, your lips locking with his before he could overthink this, before he could hesitate or flee or even think about slowing down. You had never kissed him like this before, never with so much fervor and white hot desire that it left him spinning and clinging to you just to stay upright.

You tugged him close by the neck of his shirt, stretching the flimsy fabric to the point it ripped a bit at the seam. You only huffed against his mouth in frustration, your hands reached around him to rip open the slats in his shirt, fingers grazing the skin at the base of his wings and forcing another shudder through his body. 

Azriel curled into you, his forehead pressed against your neck, his arms looping around you to hold you even closer. His breaths were growing more shallow, his mind foggy with something beyond desire—a sense of belonging and love so potent he thought he might drown in it.

Your fingers slipped beneath the hem of his shirt, dragging over his abdomen as you pushed the fabric up, up, and up, a desperation limning your movements that he had never seen in you—a desperation that made his mind stutter, a kernel of worry nestling inside him as you pulled his shirt over his head—and then yours.

You were truly ethereal, which Azriel already knew, but seeing you like this was…it was an honor. A privilege—one he had no intention of taking for granted. His hands rested on the soft curves of your waist, your body warm and pliant against him.

Then your hands reached out, tracing his wing in delicate patterns that felt anything but—and there was only so much willpower Azriel had when he was in the hands of his mate. He squeezed your hips, holding you away from him just a bit, but you did your best to reach for him again. “Y/N,” he breathed out, voice ragged and trembling when you reached for his other wing. “Honey,” he said, pushing you back a bit, your hazy eyes finally meeting him. “Maybe we should slow down?”

A flash of hurt so raw and visceral passed through your eyes, and Azriel felt like he had been stabbed.

You shook your head, blinking too many times. “I don’t—do you want to stop?”

“No,” he rasped, his body coiled tight with pleasure that was sitting on a dangerous precipice. “But you seem—”

Your eyes filled with a new determination, your hands tracing down his face, his neck, his chest, his stomach. “I want to take care of you,” you whispered, your lips latching onto the skin at his neck before he could really respond.

Then you pulled back, tugging on his arm as you crawled onto the center of the bed. “Come here,” you coaxed, and Azriel was too enthralled by you to do anything but follow.

He fell back into the mountain of pillows you had scattered across the head of your bed, his wings splaying out on either side of him. He watched you carefully, his eyes drinking in every inch of your body, breathing in your scent that left him spinning as you crawled on top of him, your legs bracketing his hips. Your eyes locked onto his, and relief washed over him as he felt you tug on the thread between you, a gentle warmth rushing through his blood that seemed to anchor both of you back to each other.

Your hands roamed his chest, his stomach, your eyes tracking your fingers that tracing every ridge and valley of his muscles that rippled reflexively beneath your touch. “I’ve never felt this way,” you whispered, half to yourself. “You’re so beautiful, Azriel—it makes me dizzy.”

Azriel huffed a laugh, his head falling back into the pillows as he let you explore. “I know the feeling.”

He sucked in a sharp breath when your lips pressed to his chest, trembling as you worked your way over his skin, your tongue laving over his nipple briefly before moving up to his neck. He had never—no one had ever had this sort of access to him. He was always in control in the past, always the one in charge. Never had he just laid bare for someone to inspect and touch and kiss—but he couldn’t imagine not letting you have your way with him.

He would give you the moon if you asked.

He groaned when you sucked a little harder on the skin at his collarbone, and when your mouth dragged over his shoulder and to his arm, your teeth grazing his bicep in a way that simultaneously taunted and begged for more, he had succumbed entirely to your touch. Your hands moved back to his wings, stroking and brushing the membrane with exploratory and reverent touches that Azriel was certain was better than anything he had ever dreamed of.

When your teeth sank against the skin of his bicep, he gasped, the bite unexpected and intoxicating. You kissed the mark you inevitably left in your wake, and finally, finally, you brought your lips back to his. His hips involuntarily bucked against you, desperation creeping in as you kissed him and stroked the arch of his wings. “Honey,” he rasped, your lips sealing his warning away for another second. “I can’t—I’m going to—”

You rolled your hips against him, your lips kissing his jaw, his neck, his ear. “Good,” you whispered. “Let go, Azriel. I’ve got you, I promise.”

Your words electrocuted something inside him, sparking another dormant and fractured piece of him back to life. He fell into the pleasure you had weaved inside him, letting it wrap around him and hold him hostage for so many long and blissful seconds, his entire body trembling as he came undone. 

You kissed him through it, your touches slowing and growing more gentle, and Azriel had never felt true euphoria until this moment. His chest heaved as he came down, his eyes never leaving yours. When you smiled softly with a hint of shyness lying in the crinkle of your eyes, Azriel knew that he had found a home in your arms, and he would protect and cherish it until the day he drew his last breath.

~ ~ ~

If a few nights ago was Azriel’s dream come true, today was his living nightmare.

You had been avoiding him since that night, and every second that passed without seeing you only stretched the chasm growing in his chest farther and farther.

He was panicking.

Everything seemed fine when the two of you fell asleep—good, even. Azriel had never felt so at peace as he had in that moment, with you in his arms and his wing draped over you.

You had not let him take care of you the way you had him, but he didn’t want to push. He would never do that. As much as it pained him not to give you the pleasure you had given him, he recognized the vulnerability that had crept into your eyes, that laced your words after you kissed him and said Not tonight.

He knew it was a lot.

It was overwhelming and intoxicating and he could have very well stayed in bed next to you for an eternity if you let him—but you were gone come morning.

The bed was still warm where you had once laid, your scent still potent on your sheets, and the morning sun glittered off the charms and suncatchers you had hanging in your window—it was a perfectly warm and peaceful morning, except you were nowhere to be found.

Azriel would have liked to stay until you returned. He tried. He spent the morning cleaning your kitchen, doing the dishes from last night’s dinner, wiping down the counters and straightening the Solstice decorations you still had out. He picked up your living room—he even folded the pile of laundry you had stacked on the chair in your room.

Hours passed and your apartment was spotless, but you still weren’t back—and well, Azriel wasn’t clueless. He could take a hint.

He started to feel like an invader and less like a guest the longer your absence stretched, and he never wanted to encroach on your space, your privacy. He never wanted to be the reason you were uncomfortable, though it seemed that was exactly what he was.

So he left, the smell of you and your apartment clinging to his clothes as he shut and locked your door behind him, a twinge of guilt in his chest for stealing your spare key, but he would be damned if he left your apartment unlocked and vulnerable.

He really wanted to sit on the roof across the street and wait for you to return, but the odds of you catching him were too high—you always seemed to know exactly when he was near and where he morphed into the shadows. He also didn’t want to scare you, so he settled for a note on your counter and your spare key in his pocket, and possibly a small tendril of shadow lurking in the curtains of your living room.

You came home in the early evening—and that’s all he knew.

He was itching to see you, to talk to you, to understand what went wrong, but you were never home when Azriel stopped by.

Just like you weren’t home now. It was like you knew when he was coming, and fled before he could catch you. He didn’t understand.

He wasn’t angry. Far from it. He would be the biggest hypocrite in Prythian if he was—the Mother only knew how many times he had pushed people away or ran from his feelings. Hell, he was terrified he would do that to you, he just never imagined he would be facing such a role reversal.

A bit arrogant of him, if he was honest. He dropped his forehead to your door, the silence of your apartment weighing him down. He could go to your bakery. He knew he would most likely find you there, but he hated the thought of ambushing you at your place of work. It was important to you, and the last thing he wanted to do was taint it.

And really, it had only been a few days. He was being a tad dramatic. His brothers would tear him apart if they saw him now. He could practically hear Cassian’s taunts—

“Azriel?”

His head flew up, his heart leaping in his chest at the sound of your voice. You were standing there, just a few feet away from him, with your hair a bit frazzled from the day and smudges of flour streaked across your pants. Your scent wafted over to him, the same warm and sugary scent mixed with something new—cherries.

Azriel took a step closer, his eyes raking over you. “You smell like cherries.”

You blinked, a bit stunned, and Azriel wanted to shake himself for saying that of all things. You bit your bottom lip, and Azriel watched the way it curled beneath your teeth and popped back out when you said, “Yeah, I was working on something new. I thought you might like it, but…” you trailed off, seeming a bit dazed. “What are you doing here?”

Azriel ignored the twinge of hurt in his chest, knowing it was a perfectly reasonable question to ask the male who was slumped against your apartment door. “I wanted to see you.”

He saw your grip on your keys tighten, glancing warily at your apartment door. “Oh–”

“Actually,” he said hurriedly, desperate to cling to you now that he found you again, “I wanted to show you something.”

You seemed to relax a bit, your eyes lightening and a soft smile pulling at your lips. “Yeah?” you asked. 

Azriel nodded, scrambling to put together this very last minute plan. “I want to take you flying.”

Your eyes widened, your body going rigid all over again. “Azriel—”

“Please,” he begged, taking another step closer. Then, softening his tone, voice pleading, he said again, “Please. I don’t know what I did wrong, but—”

“You did nothing wrong,” you hurried out, your hand wrapping around his wrist. Guilt flooded your face, and when your eyes started to glisten, Azriel didn’t hesitate before he pulled you into his chest. And when the first shudder rocked through you he only held you tighter, his hand rubbing up and down your back.

He reached for the key in his pocket, his other arm holding you to him while you cried, and he fumbled with the key in the lock before pushing your door open and guiding the two of you inside. “Honey,” he murmured into your hair, your face pressed against his neck that was now damp with your tears. He stroked the back of your head, your body only falling into him more.

“I’m sorry,” you rasped. You sniffed, your fingers clutching his shirt tighter before pulling back. You wiped at your face, your eyes swollen and red, and Azriel felt utterly helpless.

“For what?” he asked gently.

You looked at him incredulously, shimmying out of his hold and taking a step back. “For leaving you. I can’t believe I did that. I hate myself for just running away—”

“Hey,” he interrupted gently, his heart hurting for you. “It’s okay to need space.”

“But Azriel—”

“In the future,” he added on, “I would appreciate it if you told me that, though.”

You nodded, your cheeks damp and glistening from the tears that still slowly rolled down your face. “What happened?” he asked.

“I was scared,” you whispered, the words rough as they scraped your throat. “I am scared. I—” You closed your eyes, breathing in through your nose, and then back out. “I’ve never been in love.”

Oh.

Azriel was fairly certain he just felt the world shift a few degrees to the left.

“And I know it sounds ridiculous. I know I’ve been clinging to you since we met, since the mating bond snapped, but the other night, I just—I realized, I was in love with you. I am in love with you, and I think I would die if I ever lost you. And I started overthinking, worrying about everything I did, and I felt like I took advantage when that’s the last thing I wanted to do, and I just, I just spiraled, and I’m so sorry.”

“Take advantage?” Azriel knew that was not the most important thing you had just said, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stand the thought of you feeling guilty when you did nothing wrong, and he was going to fix that immediately.

Your throat bobbed, and he could feel your nerves racing down the bond, pummeling his heart with every wave that emanated from you. “Yes,” you said, voice small. “You decided to share something vulnerable with me and I attacked you—”

“Attacked?”

“Yes,” you argued, and he could see the shame and embarrassment heavy in your eyes. It made him nauseous. You threw your arm over your eyes, and said, “Azriel, I bit your bicep, for Cauldron’s sake.”

“Trust me, I remember,” he said, reaching out to pull your arm away from your face. “I remember liking it—more than that, actually.” He cupped your face in his hands, your skin warm against him. “Sweetheart, you made me come in my pants.”

You bit your lip, your entire face going hot. Azriel brushed his thumb over your cheek, wishing he could erase the last 72 hours of pain you had endured alone. “I’m the last person who would ever judge you—for anything.”

Your eyes fell to his lips, and he waited—waited for you to make the next move, and when you pressed your lips to his, he felt himself melt a bit, his soul somehow melding with yours more than it already had. You pressed a few more gentle pecks to his mouth before pulling away, your eyes searching his for something, a flicker of uncertainty lingering.

“You did nothing wrong,” he assured gently, his hand squeezing your hip. “Mating bonds make everything more intense, it’s natural.”

You nodded. “I guess I knew that in theory, just, experiencing it—” You sighed. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel smiled gently, pushing some hair out of your face. “It’s okay. We’re okay, I promise.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, then pulled you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you and his shadows brushing against your cheeks once he finally let them go. “I love you,” he murmured into your ear, and the undiluted joy that rippled down the bond made him smile wider than he had in centuries.

~ ~ ~

Azriel was, in fact, a cuddly drunk.

At least, he was with you.

His mate.

Sue him.

How could he not be?

You were just so beautiful. You were warm and soft and loving. You smelled delicious, like freshly baked cookies. You were his love. His home.

And it was his birthday. If he couldn’t be handsy with his mate—well that would be a piss poor birthday.

Most importantly, you didn’t mind, and your opinion was frankly the only one Azriel cared about. So when you giggled as he tugged you into his lap, your eyes wide and bright as you pressed a kiss to his lips in greeting, Azriel did not give a damn about his brothers’ teasing quips from across the table.

He pressed a kiss to your jaw, and then the corner of your mouth, smiling once his lips finally pressed to yours again. “Az,” you giggled, “I knew you would be a touchy drunk.”

Azriel hummed, his arms circling around your waist as he pressed your back to his chest, his nose nuzzling against your neck. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder where the strap of your dress had fallen down, then fixed it for you. “Just with you,” he murmured. Though, that wasn’t entirely true, given the way he had his arms thrown around Rhys and Cas earlier in the night. He kissed the pointed tip of your ear, smiling into your hair when you sucked in a sharp breath. “It’s okay, right?” he asked, hoping he wasn’t bothering you.

You turned your head to face him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Yeah, baby,” you said softly. “It’s okay.”

Azriel felt fuzzy—floaty in a way he almost never was from drinking. So maybe the alcohol coursing through his blood had dropped some of his usual inhibitions, but he knew that the buzzy and giddy warmth that was unfurling in his chest was entirely because of you.

“I think I want to go home,” he said to you, voice low in your ear.

“Are you sure?” you asked.

He nodded, his arms squeezing you once before letting you go, tapping your ass twice to coax you up and off his lap. He grinned when he watched you grow flustered, your eyes glaring at him playfully as you slid off his lap. 

“Heading home already?” Rhys asked as Azriel stood up, swaying a bit on his feet before your arm circled his waist. “Leave it to Az to be the first one to leave his own party,” Rhys taunted, mischief glowing behind his purple irises.

“Leave him be, Rhys,” Cassian said, leaning on the table as his eyes gleamed with anything but innocence. “He’s surely eager for Y/N’s gift to him.”

Azriel snarled at Cassian, pushing you behind him as his wings flared. Apparently, he was also a territorial drunk.

“Knock it off, Cassian,” Nesta growled, swatting his arm.

Your hand laced with his, his eyes snapping to you, who was watching his display with amusement. “Come on, birthday boy,” you said, tugging on his arm. “You can fight your brother another day.”

He cast another glare at a smirking Cassian, then let you lead him by the hand out onto the street. His steps were a little more stumbly than he would have liked, and he was certainly in no state to fly either of you anywhere, but you didn’t seem to mind as you held his hand in yours and walked toward your apartment a few streets over.

“I love you,” Azriel blurted.

You smiled, the moonlight washing your face in a pretty glow that made you look ethereal. “I love you too, Az.” You squeezed his hand, swinging your arms a bit. “I hope you’ve had a good birthday.”

Azriel nodded, a little too eagerly if your widening grin was anything to go by. “The best I’ve ever had.”

You laughed, leaning into his side, the two of your stumbling together before regaining your balance. “I doubt that. I have over five centuries of birthdays to compete with.”

Azriel shook his head, then brought your hand up to his lips to press a gentle kiss to your skin. “There’s no competition. None of them had you.”

He was a sappy drunk too, it seemed.

“You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me,” he went on, his words only slightly smushed together. “I love you. I love you so much I can hardly breathe. I cannot wait for the day you decide you want to accept the bond—at least, I hope you do. I want you for an eternity, my love.” The two of you were still walking hand in hand along the Sidra, your apartment building now visible in the distance, but Azriel kept rambling, “We can have whatever kind of mating ceremony you want. However big or small, I just want our friends and family there with us—if you even want a ceremony.”

“I do,” you told him, looking up at him with a smile on your face. “I definitely do.”

Azriel’s stomach fluttered, and he leaned a little more into you, his body relaxing into your touch as you neared your home. “Okay,” he sighed, relief and love and joy making him feel like he was floating. “I do too.”

~ ~ ~

It was entirely too bright, and this bed was entirely too empty. Azriel groaned as he turned his face into your pillows, the silk sheet set he bought you blocking out the sun for a brief moment.

Then he smelled food.

He pushed himself upright, his head throbbing a bit from the movement, and his eyes taking a moment to adjust. He was bare aside from his underwear, but he was still too warm in the morning sun. He shoved the covers from his body, his feet landing on the plush rug beside your bed as he stood up.

He followed the smell of bacon and cinnamon, the sound of pots and pans clattering growing louder as he opened your bedroom door and moved toward the kitchen. You were moving around in a flurry, your feet bare on the kitchen tile—your legs bare, aside from his far too large shirt that draped over your body. 

Your knee lifted the oven door after pulling a pan out, your hip pushing it the rest of the way shut as you sat the pan on top of the stove with a clang. You slide the oven mitts from your hands, brushing some hair out of your face as you let out a heavy breath. 

“Smells good.”

Your head whipped toward Azriel, your eyes going wide as he walked closer. Azriel’s heart pounded in his chest as he took in the spread of food across your kitchen counters. You were clearly in your element, and Azriel loved seeing you like this—but you had never cooked or baked for him before, for obvious reasons.

“What’s all this?” he asked as he peered at the pan of fresh-baked cinnamon rolls.

Your lips parted, your hands ringing together as you rocked back on your heels once. “Breakfast,” you said. A nervous smile pulling at your lips that made Azriel’s heart stall. “For you.”

“For me?” he rasped. “Y/N—”

“Only if you’re ready,” you hurried out, “but I know I am, and, after last night…”

Azriel’s cheeks went hot as last night replayed in his head, the way he clung to you and gushed about his love for you. He moved closer, crowding your space. “I’m ready,” he murmured.

Your face lit up, and Azriel’s hangover was long forgotten as you reached for the fork on the counter behind him. You scooped a piece of a cinnamon roll right out of the still steaming pan, and when you blew on the hot and doughy piece Azriel’s heart flipped. You were still smiling as you offered it to him, the fork slightly shaking from the nerves he knew were coursing through you.

His hand folded over yours and the fork, helping guide it into his mouth so he could take the first bite of the first meal his mate had made for him. He pulled the fork away from his lips, tossing it on the counter as he pulled you flush to him. “I love you,” he said, the words gravelly and choked with more emotion than he really knew what to do with.

me rendering this:

Your decision had been met with mixed reviews, and the outcome had left much to be desired. There were still tears, still moments where Azriel panicked and acted as if the world was out to get you, but—things had settled. 

You smiled. You laughed. You remembered. 

Azriel was himself again. 

The past year had been one of the worst for the two of you, but somehow, Cassian always knew it was going to end up okay. He blamed that assurance on the honestly repulsive nature of your relationship. From the moment Azriel met you, he had changed. He had been in love with you as if it had been ingrained in him when he was born. Like he had just been waiting for you to come and confirm something he hadn’t even thought of. 

Cassian finally understood what that felt like with Nesta, but even then, it took time with his mate. With you and Azriel, it was impossible to miss the connection. 

So, yeah, repulsive. But also so sure. 

When you were first taken in Day, your relationship was achingly fresh. Even by human standards. But it had been as if a piece of Azriel was removed. He had known you for mere months, and Cassian could still remember the haunted look in his brother’s eye when they finally found you. And he could remember the all-consuming relief when you were okay again.

That same feeling was replicated when you lost your memory last year. 

Azriel had pulled away—out of fear. Out of pain and confusion. But Cassian had always known that you were too strong a pull. Cassian had always known you to never give up on Azriel, even when you couldn’t remember who he was. When you couldn’t even recall your own name, he knew you would know your mate. 

He had been right (obviously), and the assured nature of your relationship remained. 

The townhouse was warm and glowing when Cassian entered. He turned his wings to the side as Nyx came bounding down the hall, Elain chasing after him with a laugh. A window was open down the entryway, blowing a breezy curtain along the sidewalls and seemingly forgotten by each person that passed it. It contrasted with the popping fire in the joining sitting room, and Cassian shivered slightly as he found Nesta curled in the corner of an armchair, an unimpressed expression masking her comfort with the space.

He sat beside her with an abrupt huff and kissed the side of her face when she shot him an eye roll. 

“How was the library?” he asked her, relishing as she pressed closer.

“Fine. I would have stayed longer.” “But we were summoned,” Cassian finished, raising his brows to where you sat with Azriel. 

You were close together on the two-cushioned chair, but your attention was turned to Feyre, and you were speaking animatedly. You looked bright as you rehashed something Cassian couldn’t hear, Feyre laughing in return. Azriel, on the other hand, had every morsel of his attention devoted to you. His arm rested comfortably on the cushion at your back, the ring on his finger glinting against the fire as he mindlessly twirled your hair. His eyes were glued to the side of your face, and his mouth looked to be in a permanent half-smile. 

“Sounded more urgent than it looks,” Nesta accused, crossing her arms across her chest. 

“Must have been for dramatic flair—the notes,” Cassian replied. 

Nesta huffed out a laugh. “As if this family needs to be any more dramatic.” 

Feyre got up from her seat to wrangle Nyx from the hall, and Cassian watched you turn back to your mate, a few inches separating your faces. Azriel’s eyes tracked down to your mouth as it moved along words that looked close to I love you, and Cassian glanced away from the private moment. 

“I haven’t heard her say it in so long,” Azriel had told him. All those months ago. His eyes had been clouded by tears. “I think about it, Cassian, and I can’t remember how it sounded from her. It’s been weeks, and nothing has improved. What if—what if this doesn’t get better?” 

Cassian had tried hard to get Azriel to see what he saw—to get him to believe in the unshakable nature of his relationship. Of your love for him. But Azriel was fragile then, just a tip away from broken, and nothing was going to make him see reason. 

Well, nothing but you. 

A week after Azriel had voiced his desperation to Cassian, you had informed Azriel that you thought he hated you. Cassian had to fight off the laugh caught in his throat as he looked at the two of you now. So foolish. 

“Would the two of you care to share why you’ve dragged us all here?” Mor drawled as Feyre and Rhys took seats in the room, Nyx rolling on his father’s lap. 

You turned from Azriel with mirth in your eyes. Azriel’s gaze remained on the side of your face. “We can’t simply want to see our family in the same room?” you accused. 

Mor rolled her eyes and smirked in return, allowing space for Rhysand to speak up. “Yes, well, while I’m sure we all enjoy seeing everyone, which we do once a week, anyway, your note said you had an announcement. So if the two of you could separate from each other for long enough to share, that would be grand.” 

“Hardly one to talk,” Nesta muttered under her breath. 

“Okay, okay, fine,” you relented. Cassian eyed the almost immediate fidgeting. You reached down and began spinning the base of the ring on your finger. Azriel’s wing rose up from behind the chair and settled closer to you. “I—well you all know that when I chose not to let the witch back in my head, I was accepting that I wouldn’t get memories back from before I met you. I never have.” 

Cassian felt the way the room leaned forward. When you decided that months ago, it marked the end of updates. Azriel had become more protective of the interworking of your memory loss because you had decided for him—well, not for him, but Azriel saw it that way. You gave up the opportunity to have everything back in favor of maintaining the relationship you’d rebuilt. Because going to the witch could have made things irreparably worse. 

It was safer that way, Cassian thought, and you weren’t broken. 

He was sure you still struggled. Your magic had been returning, but it was slow-moving, and there was a chance it would never fully recover. Rhysand knew more about that, but that was solely because Rhysand was technically your employer. The only other information the group received about your memories was when you got one back that involved them. You and Azriel were private about that aspect of your life now that things had settled. 

So this meeting obviously meant something to you. 

You wet your lips and knocked your head to the side as the room waited in baited silence. “Well, I never had. I got one recently. Last week.” 

Cassian turned as he heard a laugh punch from Rhysand’s chest. “That is wonderful news. I told you—things were lingering. I felt them in there.” 

Rhysand had gone back into your head when the memories from Day became unrelenting. Cassian could remember that time, a while back, when sleep was evading you to a dangerous degree. 

“I need you to block them out,” you had begged, skin pallid as you gripped the table between you and the high lord. You hadn’t come with Azriel. “Maybe—maybe when I have a better hold on my magic, I’ll be able to do it myself, but, Rhys, it’s too much. I can’t—” 

Cassian had stood behind you and held your shoulders as it was done, watching the pain flicker on Rhysand’s face as he went through the memories you had told no one about. It wasn’t lost on them that you had been living through them for the first time—that in choosing this path, you were opening yourself up to that possibility. 

Things were better for you after that.

You smiled slightly, gazing down at your hand resting in your lap. Azriel finally tore his eyes from you. 

“Thank you for that, Rhysand. I never really thanked you,” he earnestly said. 

Rhysand brushed him off with a swipe of his hand through the air. “Don’t,” he grinned. “I want to hear more about the memories. Was it just one? How far back?” 

“Yes, tell us,” Feyre chimed in, tucking Nyx into her chest as he swapped between his parents’ laps. 

You stared down at your nephew, and your eyes welled. Cassian felt something build in his chest. Nesta shifted beside him when you bit into your lip. 

“It was from when I was very young. Years ago. I’ve been having glimpses of a few more. All younger.” 

“Maybe you’re getting them chronologically,” Mor offered with a gleeful smile.

You shook your head, eyes still glistening, Azriel sliding his hand over your knee. “It’s not that,” you said. “We thought it might be. But…other things started happening, and we went to Madja. We got an answer after that.” 

“Are… you okay?” Cassian slowly asked. 

Nesta leaned out of Cassian’s hold, eyeing you closely. “She is. Y/n, you’re—” 

Nodding, Azriel brushed your hair back from your eyes, and you slid your touch from your ring finger to your stomach. “I’m pregnant.”

A beat of silence.  

Cassian watched as Azriel beamed beside you, staring at you with so much adoration, Cassian almost wanted to look away again. He covered your hand with his and let out a laugh wet with unshed tears as the room made an abundance of noise. 

“What? Were you—were you trying? This is incredible—” 

“When did you find out? How—” 

“Cauldron, I can’t believe—” 

“I know you were talking about this before, but we all thought—” 

It was all incoherent, and Cassian was only adding to the cacophony with his own questions. All would go unanswered. You covered your face with your hands, hiding the burn of your skin from all the attention pressed on you. Azriel’s nose brushed your temple as he laughed, and it looked physically difficult for him to pull away and address the room. 

“Maybe we could ask questions one at a time. And—calmly,” Azriel chastised, but his smile was betraying the gentle chide. 

Questions were asked. You and Azriel answered. The joy in the room was free-flowing and abundant, and Cassian could feel it buzzing in his chest as the night dwindled and goodbyes were being made. As you were tugged away to speak with the others, Cassian rounded Azriel and clapped him over his shoulder. 

“I’m happy for you,” Cassian grinned. “Especially after everything the two of you have been through.” 

Azriel nodded, his expression loose after smiling so frequently. “Thank you, Cassian. I couldn’t—I don’t know if this would have been possible without you. Without all of you. I would’ve stayed scared. I would’ve ruined this for her.” 

Cassian was shaking his head before Azriel had finished speaking. “No, you wouldn’t have. You would’ve found your way back to her. She remembered you before anything else.” 

Azriel puffed out a laugh. “Are you forgetting that she thought I hated her? That I was doing that poorly with my mate?” 

“Az, you were a little too messed up to notice, but those first few weeks she was on edge anytime you weren’t around. She looked for you everywhere.” 

Azriel stared out to the room fondly, finding you just as you found him.

“I was never worried,” Cassian continued. He gave Azriel’s back another hard pat. “I love being an uncle. This is great.” And then, in a quieter voice, because Azriel was private about this, “Her memories are a bonus.” 

“She was having a difficult time with that. Would pretend she wasn’t,” Azriel almost murmured. “She’s getting it all now. I hope she does, anyway.” 

“She has everything she wants, Az. She’s happy. You have your family.” 

“Yeah,” Azriel nodded, brows furrowed and eyes still slightly red. “Yeah, we have each other.” 

And things weren’t perfect. Things were settled, but not perfect. Cassian thought that didn’t matter much. Not with the love you shared with Azriel. Not with the family you had, or the future that promised so much. 

So that was okay—things being imperfect. 

I have almost nothing to say today <3 I am simply tired

Apparently doing this challenge. Which i knew would be hard. Is hard. I have nothing to say, good night yall

Taglists-

Art- @irithiadourden @chunkypossum @makinglongwordsslutty

Gen/all- @definitelyyesnt @brunetterebel010 @skies-for-eyes-trees-for-knees @olenvasynyt

The bed was warm and perfectly molded to your body, pillows squished perfectly beneath your head giving you no reason to move. The little body next to you snored in his sleep, his left leg twitching, a lazy attempt at disturbing the peace. You nuzzled into his head, soft hair just long enough to tickle your nose. Hours passed in a soft lull, the air in the room the only thing moving.

Time passed in hazy waves, your eyes only staying open for a few minutes at a time before lulling you back into a dreamless sleep.

“Sleep when the baby sleeps,” fae would say. Now he’s a toddler, too interested in the world to sleep. Between him and the growing belly, full nights of sleep were hard to come by, but rather intermittent cat naps were enough to get you by.

“Have you gotten out of that cocoon of your own making since I left?” You didn’t fight the grin spreading across your face at your mate’s soft voice, not having heard him come in. Not even his teasing was enough to fully wake you up, but enough to resist the urge to hide your face into the pillows.

“I’m trying to remember what he smelled like as a babe. He smells so much older now.” Your hand smoothed down his hair, a gentle motion you performed hundreds, if not thousands of times. You kept a few inches away from Atlas, knowing if you draw too close he’ll overheat and wake up cranky.

Eris couldn’t stop the pull he felt towards the bed, even knowing he only had a moment before his next engagement. His hand found the swell of your belly, fingers splaying out wide, already reaching for the life inside. Any day now this small forged family of three would turn into four. How many more moments like this did he have before the new babe arrived?

His nose found your neck as he slid into place behind you, breathing in the scent so entangled with his own it was almost impossible to tell them apart. Yours had been marked with a soft tinge of milk and something else he couldn’t quite pinpoint. It didn’t matter, not really. Whatever the scent he couldn’t help himself from wanting to bury himself deeper in it, burying himself inside you as he got off on the scent alone.

He hadn’t noticed with his own mother, but each of your pregnancies smelled different. The whole time you carried Atlas you filled rooms with a sickly berry scent that was muddled with spices. Now you smelled like a crisp autumn wind and fresh tree bark.

Adjusting to life with Atlas had been hard and difficult, but now there would be two. He had never heard of siblings being so close in age, such a rarity to even have a second child.

“What do you think this one will smell like?” Eris knew from the tail end of your pregnancy with Atlas that the last month was spent pondering every feature of the new life, building it up in both your minds, making them real. You had guessed Atlas would have deep dark hair, joking that he’d be an exact copy of Rhysand sent here to bother Eris.

“I think they’ll be like their mother.” He hadn’t been thinking about it, the thought coming from some corner of his mind he hadn’t considered. In the ease and comfort of the room, it felt right. Dark hair, tan skin, a more blunt nose. Atlas looked exactly like him, a pale complexion that flushed bright red and freckled so easily.

Atlas turned in his sleep, his chest rolling into your face, limbs flailing in every direction. Eris’s hand left your belly, gently blocking your face from small fists.

“How are we going to deal with two of him?”

His hand moved away from the threat, gently stroking your hair. You lazily followed the heat of his hand, his touch driving you mad even after so long.

“When Atlas is really annoying we’ll give him to Lucien.”

Eris tightened his grip on his little family, the forged thing he had never expected. He had to go, just for a while, but he would be back in a few hours. By then Atlas would surely be awake, parading around the manor as if it were his.

For a moment Eris laid there, listening to soft breathing of his mate and the babe they made together, content that the limited range of his imagination was never able to conjure such an image on its own.