The Magic Number [Kinktober 2023, Overstimulation]
Rhysand x Azriel x Reader:
The Caress of Murder and Moonlight [Kinktober 2023, Dom/Sub]
Rhysand x Cassian x Reader:
Double Duty [Kinktober 2023, Double Penetration]
A Court of Four Horsemen:
Based off of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse featuring Rhysand as Conquest, Cassian as War, Eris as Famine, and Azriel as Death. [Angst, Smut]
I. The Lost Girl [Rhys x Reader]
II. The Last Petal [Cassian x Reader]
III. The Scourge of Autumn [Eris x Reader]
IV. The Darkest Night [Azriel x Reader]
Keep It Up [Kinktober 2023, Nesta x Reader, Praise]
Torrential [Knox x Reader] [Angst]
Our Souls Are Stars and Mine Is Forever Yours [Gideon x Maude] [Starfall Week Prompt 1, Fluff]
To My Heart [Knox x Reader] [Fluff]
Undercover [Jax x Reader] [Angst]
Jax uses his powers at a party
Jax finds out Knoxâs mating bond has been found out
Bryaxis calls Jax a friend
Uncle Cassianâs reaction to finding out Jax wants to visit Bryaxis
Bat Boys reactions to you faking an orgasm [Eris] [Lucien]
What if Zuzu had gotten her wings clipped in the steppes? [AU]
Vampire!Azriel wants everyone to know youâre his
Vampire!Azriel wants you to make your choice
Vampire!Azriel takes care of you when youâre sick
[Zuzu gets a cat but it loves Azriel the most]Â [Wren, Baz, and Zuzu work together to try and convince their parents to get a second cat]
CEO!Rhys Headcanons (More CEO!Rhys)
Chef!Azriel Headcanons
CEO!Nesta Headcanons
Vampire!Rhys Headcanons
Azriel goes into panic mode when you start nesting
Rancher!Cassian Headcanons
Mechanic!Cassian Headcanons
Small town!Cassian when he met his girl for the first time
You show up to be the nude model in one of the bat boys art classes (Az, Rhys, and Cass included)
Which SJM Character is best in bed?
Key:Â
[SBA] = Soft Boy Autumn
[CBW] = Cozy Boy Winter
[YA] = Young Adult
Other:
Read Fics in Timeline Order Here!
To learn more about the Bat Babies Iâve created, click here! (What do they look like to me?)
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Note: If youâve sent me a request, chances are I have it, Iâve seen it, and it will probably be written eventually. Thereâs 200+ messages in there. Iâm doing my best! Please be patient and kind and try not to resend the same messages over and over if you can help it. Thank you for visiting, enjoy your stay!
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When you wake up youâre surprised at how peaceful the world around you is. The sun is shining down into the van, warm across your face. Itâs quiet, which normally would have alarm bells chiming off in your head, but youâd fallen asleep to the touch of Cassianâs soft hands kneading your tender ankle just like youâd been needing. Knowing Feyre was in the front seat and had some kind of strange sway over Rhysand had made you feel safe enough to succumb to your exhaustion.
You blink the sleep from your eyes and stretch your limbs. You hum at the stretch of your legs, noting how dull the throbbing of your injury has become thanks to Cassian.
It only takes a moment for you to notice that youâre alone. The small van is empty but there are signs that your friend and traveling partners havenât been gone for long. Weapons gone from seats where theyâd been sitting, extra crates of clothes tugged out and rifled through, even Cassianâs bag of seeds had been left open in a haphazard way and you wonder who wouldâve dug through there and left it like that because you surely know that it isnât him.
Itâs late, you can tell by the sun in the sky, bright and nearing its peak. You mustâve slept almost half of the day away. The doors of the vehicle are wide open, letting in that summer breeze that you canât help but to take a hearty breath of. If you strain your ears, you can hear Rhysand and Feyre bickering â or maybe itâs flirting â softly.
You havenât felt this content in a long time.
Rubbing your eyes with your fists, you wince as the injury slashed across your palm pinches. Youâd forgotten about the clumsy slice youâd given yourself and a flash of embarrassment heats your cheeks as you remember how youâd lied on the ground so willing to give up on everything.
Before Azriel had saved you.
Sure, Rhys was there too, looking out for the both of you and shooting zombies in their rotting faces if they stumbled too close, but all you can think about is how warm Azrielâs chest was, how big his hands were as they held you tightly, how deep his voice was when heâd been muttering under his breath to keep you awakeâ
You clear your throat, shoving away the fluttering feeling that starts up in your stomach when you think about him. Youâd gotten the same sensation while Cassianâs thick fingers had been poking and pressing in all of the right ways into the delicate injury of your ankle. You wonder what else he might be as skilled at with those handsâ
You flail around for your backpack, finding it shoved under the seat. You tug it out with your good hand, unzipping it to rustle through your things before you realize that you donât have any water left to clear your suddenly dry throat.
Collapsing backwards onto the bench once more, you let yourself have a minute to wallow about the loss of something so important and gather your bearings. You could probably sleep the whole day away if you wanted to, with how tired you are, but you figure you better go save Feyre from the three strangers youâve been riding with.
You groan softly as you sit up, cringing at the mess youâve left behind on the seat. Dried blood from your wounded hand is smeared haphazardly on the perfectly worn leather, embedded into the cracks. Your shirt sticks to you when you peel it up to wipe at your face, and you frown at the feel of the crusty fabric rubbing against your skin.
You make a note to try and clean up before you move on.
â(Y/N), youâre awake,â Feyre grins when she spots you carefully shuffling out of the back of the van. âCan you please tell Rhysand that we should be heading west instead of east?â
You eye her suspiciously as you shuffle closer to the group, catching how she makes a face at Rhys as if to say âwatch this.â The way that she smothers her grin and bats her eyelashes makes your stomach twist, because right now youâre realizing that she might be starting to change her tune about the group, just as you are.
Theyâre lounging on folding chairs that you hadnât even noticed they had. Where they kept all of these things in that tiny van is beyond you, but it also offers a sense of relief that the three men are so prepared.
It makes you feel taken care of.
You glance between everyone before taking a look at your surroundings. Itâs an abandoned RV park. Thereâs only one other vehicle on the other side of the parking lot and it clicks in your brain that the chairs had probably already been here.
There are plenty of trees surrounding you and you know that while you wouldnât have chosen this as a place to stop for the night had you been awake, you trust that if Feyre had agreed to it, youâll keep your opinions to yourself. At least the place is mostly abandoned, the other looking vehicle most likely already ransacked and checked over by your group, so you find yourself relaxing a little as you perch next to Cassian, who beams up at you as you sit on the bench.
âFeyre, can you lower your voice before you attract something we donât want around?â Rhysand huffs in retaliation.
âAwe, but with a voice as high as hers, it will be pretty easy to attract some wildlife,â Azriel mutters from where heâs sitting across the table from you, back towards you. His spine is stiff even though his body is posed in a relaxed way, elbows propped up on the table as he leans into it. His fingers twitch with the need to feel the heavy metal of his gun in his hands.
He is a true ray of sunshine this morning.
âFuck off, Shadow,â Feyre flips him off even though he canât see it, but he straightens as if he can.
âWhat the hell did I miss?â you ask, studying the interaction closely. Something mustâve happened while you were sleeping because as far as you remember, the two hated each other. But now thereâs a determined gleam in Feyreâs gray eyes, like sheâs accepting the challenge that is becoming someone Azriel trusts.
If she keeps up with that nickname of hers, sheâll be more likely to find a cure before ever befriending the broody man.
You brush the weird feeling off, not daring to join or delve further into your thoughts of what a friendship between the two of them would look like. Between what a friendship between you and Azriel would look like.Â
âI donât know which way we should go, but I know that east is the way that we came from, so Iâd rather not head back that way, right?â
Feyre smirks smugly as the men stare at her for a moment before their curious gazes swing your way. The shock on their faces nearly makes you burst out laughing.
âHow do you know that?â
You furrow your brows, feeling as though the answer is obvious. âBasic astronomy. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west.â You chance a glance at Azriel but you arenât able to make out the look on his face due to the dark sunglasses he has on. It makes you feel a bit off-kilter. You normally arenât able to see what heâs feeling other than the hatred he has for you and your friend, but with his eyes covered and the straight line of his mouth, it makes you feel even more unsettled.
You swallow nervously, a tickle in your throat as you tack on sheepishly, âPlus, we have a map.â
âWhy didnât you say so?â Azriel says at the same time Rhysand speaks.
âYou let us drive around in what couldâve possibly been a circle all night?â
âI was a little preoccupied,â you defend, waving your hand around for emphasis before gesturing to your ankle for good measure. Rhysand shoots you an apologetic look and turns to Feyre, questioning her on how sheâd forgotten to mention that you both had a map.
âHow are you by the way?â Cassian asks you as Rhys follows Feyre back to the van like a duckling follows its mother. You need to keep a closer watch on the two of them but Cassianâs warm hazel eyes have you feeling fuzzy like you had been waking up safe under the sun.
Azriel watches silently as you and Cassian interact. Youâre turned toward his friend and he takes the time to really get a look at you while youâre distracted. The structure of your nose, the set of your eyes, the pink flush to your cheeks when all Cassian had done was ask you how you are. Your face is dirty, blood dried to your smooth skin, along with sweat streaks and grime and now his fingers are itching to dip the rag into the bucket of water heâd gathered from the nearby lake and help you wash the grime from your pretty face.
He curses himself for his thoughts, but he canât help but to look. He watches the way you react to everything Cassian does, the way your body language moves, and Azriel watches intently as you lean into Cassian only slightly, unconsciously as you answer him.
âIâm alright,â you answer honestly, âHand hurts a little, but my ankle feels a thousand times better thanks to your magic fingers.â
Cassian laughs and Azriel watches him wink at you, follows you as you duck your head a little to bite back your smile, the tint to your cheeks. He frowns at the interaction, something hot flaring up inside of his body. He pushes away from the table, suddenly annoyed with the situation.
âWhere are you going?â he hears Cassian call after him but he doesnât stop. He slips a hand onto his holster, letting the metal cool his overheating hands as he stalks off without responding.
â â˘â â°âââ˝ŕźâžâââąâ â˘â
After Azriel has walked away, Rhys and Feyre are quick to appear with the map, spreading it wide across the picnic table in front of the four of you so you can go over where you are. Once finding the general area of where youâd all stopped for the night, you mark it with an old pen Rhys had produced, and then he and Feyre had proceeded to argue about where to go next.
You excuse yourself because your ankle is becoming stiff, so you abandon a bored looking Cassian at the table.
Feyre passes you a water bottle and a granola bar as you go, without even a pause to her conversation with Rhysand. Youâre more than happy to let the two of them take the lead on this one, knowing that she is on the move to find something incredibly important to her. You, on the other hand, have nothing.Â
You clap her on the shoulder in thanks and make your way towards the van, settling on the bumper to eat your meal.
The now rust colored seat taunts you as you eat, forcing yourself not to devour the snack that youâve been without for too long. Your stomach growls loudly in protest, wanting more, but there isnât any until your next meal, so you ignore it, letting your thoughts about the dirty seat consume you.
And thatâs how you find yourself crouched over the seat in the back of the vehicle after youâve eaten, trying to scrub your blood off of the leather.
Itâs taking a bit more work than youâd like, and you might be a little worried about sore muscles in your arm and working your food off so quickly, but you shouldâve known how hard it would be to get the seat clean. The throb in your ankle is back from the pressure youâve been putting on it, even kneeling, and youâre pretty sure youâve torn a stitch in your palm.
Itâs not going well.Â
âYou donât use water to clean leather,â Azrielâs voice startles you and you flinch, nearly knocking over the small bucket of water youâd lugged from the lake to the car across the warming asphalt. Your heart races in your chest, unaware of just how quietly he moves.
Sitting back on your heels, you glare over your shoulder at the dark haired man whoâs leaning against the back open doors with his arms crossed over his chest. You nearly lose your breath at the sight, a sharp exhale as your hand clenches subconsciously around the rag in your wounded hand.
Azriel looks considerably cleaner since youâd watched him stalk off this morning, a cleaner pair of jeans and a tight see-through white t-shirt that makes you wish you had some water left over.Â
Itâs a stark contrast from his all-black attire, though his new denim is still as dark as his hair, the shirt makes him seemâŚbrighter. White is not a color you would choose to wear during the zombie apocalypse, but maybe he hadnât been able to be choosy at the time. Maybe white was all there was left.
You clear your throat, turning back to your work as you feel the blush creep up your neck because youâd caught yourself staring too long. Heâd even let you drink him in, nearly preening under your darkening gaze as it traveled up his chest and across the still rippling muscles of his arms. Those extra push ups are paying off.
âWe donât have any damn leather cleaner,â you mutter, rolling your eyes. You scrub harder into the leather. Maybe you can blame your red cheeks on putting so much effort into cleaning the seats, though you donât think anyone will even appreciate you doing so.
Well, perhaps Cassian will.
Azriel digs around in one of the crates, tossing it onto the seat next to you.
A bottle of leather cleaner.
You stare at it, mouth agape, before you scoff, snatching the bottle up from the seat.
âOf course you have this,â shaking your head and shooting him a withering look. âA necessity for the end of the world.â
Azriel shrugs as if heâs already bored with the conversation. âIt was conveniently here when we found the car. The owner kept it in pretty good condition,â he says as he runs a hand alongside the door.
âSorry to uh, ruin it then,â you stutter, refusing to look Azrielâs way again. He looks so good all fresh and clean and youâre itching with the need to put on clothing that isnât crusty with your own blood.
âDonât worry about it,â he replies, voice taking a softer tone and it shocks you. He continues, muttering under his breath so softly you nearly miss it. âJust glad youâre okay.â
Your breath catches in your throat and your hand falters where you clean. You donât even know how to respond, if you should or if you should pretend you havenât heard a word. You swear you can feel his golden gaze burning against the back of your head like the sun, but when you finally muster the courage to glance over at him, heâs gone.
You release the breath you were holding, finally relaxing a bit now that youâre alone again. Thereâs no point in overthinking, he probably was just thinking that itâs a good thing youâre safe for Feyre.Â
The cleaner works wonders, and you curse because you couldâve saved yourself so much more time if you had known about it before.
At least Iâm done now, you think, sitting back on your haunches and admiring your handiwork. The seat looks back to the condition it was in before your blood had spilled all over it, and you think it might even sparkle a little in the golden rays of the afternoon sun.
Youâve worked up a sweat, and you hitch your shoulder up to wipe at the bead of sweat rolling down your cheek but the scratchy, stiff fabric has you retreating and shuddering at the incorrigible feeling again.
The dirty cloth you toss lands in the bucket with a soft splash and you climb out of the car, rolling your ankle to get some of the stiffness out.
Maybe if you ask nicely, Cassian will help you out again.
You so desperately want to rip your shirt off and toss it away, or at least drag it into the nearby lake with you, but instead you make your way back to where the group is still sitting around the abandoned table and plastic chairs, warped from the hot sun.Â
They all look cleaned and changed, more comfortable and relaxed than ever.
Thereâs not a dried splotch of blood in sight.
âWhat happened to you all?â you canât help but to ask, suddenly jealous that no one had told you they were all going to wash up. You hadnât even noticed anyone gathering the extra clothes from the van where youâd been cleaning for the past hour.
âDidnât want to disturb you,â Rhys answers and you glare. He raises his hands in surrender as he continues, âYou didnât even notice I came for fresh clothes.â
And oh, so thatâs what happened.
You swallow harshly, noticing their old clothes laid out on the table and various free spots around, drying in the sun.
âWe went in shifts. Azriel had to help Cassian get clean while Rhysand watches over us because they still donât trust us even after weâd gotten them gas and saved their asses, multiple times,â Feyre rolls her eyes. âAnd I went with Rhys because we didnât want to go alone. Youâre the only one left.â
You cut her a look as she explains that sheâd gone alone with Rhys into the lake to get clean. From the pink tone to her cheeks that sheâs so desperately trying to hide and the smug smile Rhysand is doing a shit job at holding back, you know something went down between the two of them.
You decide to keep quiet for now, though theyâre both being about as subtle as a hungry zombie.
âAre you going to come with me?â you ask Feyre, hopeful to see if she has some sort of plan that maybe involves finding more food or something without the three men.
âCanât. Iâve gotta stay here and make sure these three donât up and leave us as soon as we get down to the lake,â she answers simply, and thatâs that. You donât miss the offended faces Rhys and Cassian give her. âAzriel will have to go with you.â
Your heart kickstarts in your chest. âWhat? Why?â you sputter, fingers finding their way to play with the collar of your shirt thatâs suddenly clinging to your damp skin and making you itch.Â
Thatâs the last thing you want.
âWhy canât Rhys do it,â Azriel throws in, looking just as annoyed as you are. He can admit that heâs happy itâs not Cassian whoâs going down there to help you get cleaned up, but he doesnât exactly know how to act around you. You do nothing more than confuse him.
âBecause Feyre and I are still trying to figure out where to go,â Feyre nods surely and crosses her arms over her chest.Â
âItâs Shadow or you go alone, and Iâd prefer it if you didnât go by yourself. Sorry, (Y/N).â
She doesnât sound sorry.
âHere,â Cassian passes you a pile of clothes before you can protest again. Heâs giving you an apologetic look that makes you sigh and begin feathering through whatâs been passed your way. It looks like Feyre had pulled the clothes youâd stuffed in your backpack from the shop youâd ransacked because thereâs a clean pair of jeans, fresh socks and underwear. You make a face when you hold up a shirt you donât recognize and it unfolds into a top three times larger than yourself.
âWhatâs this?â
That cheeky grin of Cassianâs youâre becoming all too familiar with appears again as he shrugs.
âFeyre couldnât find a shirt in your pack and she didnât have any extras, so I offered up one of my own.â
You stare at the fabric in your hands. Itâs a sooty brown and it's so soft that you could cry. Just the gesture alone is enough for your throat to go tight.
Azriel scoffs, startling you, âItâs not going to bite. Letâs go.â
Heâs not waiting around for you, pushing up from his spot and heading towards the lake without a glance over his shoulder to see if youâre following or not. You know your cheeks are burning bright at his words and you gather the shirt with your other clothing. With a sincere âthanksâ towards Cassian youâre rushing as quickly as your ankle allows after the brooding man.
The walk to the lake is silent and it stretches on longer than youâd like because of the thick discomfort around you. You ignore Azrielâs stiff demeanor as you follow, keeping your attention on your surroundings, double and even triple checking for signs of zombies left behind.
When youâre sure the area is clear you find your gaze trailing to the tightness of Azrielâs shirt spread across his back. You wonder if the three of them set designated times throughout the day for push ups and other toning exercises or if their amazing muscle structure is all from the end of the world. Surely not, because your muscles donât look like that.
If your gaze slips down to look at his ass, thatâs no one's business.
âHere,â Azriel gestures to the spot theyâd all used to bathe earlier. Itâs shallow enough with no hidden shelves, so you wonât go tumbling off of the ledge into the lake and he wonât have to come wading in after you. He shoves a travel sized tube of shampoo at you that feels empty. âThat's all weâve got left.â
âThanks,â you give him a forced smile, refusing to meet his gaze.
âWe all cleaned our clothes the best we could with the lake water. Just toss them back onto the grass when youâre done,â Azriel explains, and coughs a little, âThereâs no towel though, so youâll just have to sit in the sun for a bit like we did.â
Your gaze snaps to meet his. âWhat?â
âI mean, you donât have to,â he defends, and he hides his sudden discomfort well. He doesnât think about what youâd look like splayed out on the grass glowing under the bright sun and he doesnât think about doing it with you.
Azriel scrambles for something to say, âBut thatâs what we did. Or at least Cassian and I.â His tongue pokes out, running across his bitten raw lips, watching as your eyes follow the motion. He wonders if you can see the way theyâre tingling, if theyâre still swollen from Cassianâs own.
His response answers any and all questions you have about Feyreâs time in the lake with Rhys.
âRight,â you swallow the lump in your throat as his pink tongue darts out to wet his lips. You discard the feelings creeping up in the pit of your stomach at the sight and focus on the way Feyre and Rhys are seeming to be becoming awfully close so fast. You donât like it one bit.
âCan you maybe turn around?â
He studies you for a moment, your words soft, shy, though Azriel doesnât think you should have reason to be. If he were Cassian would you ask him to turn around? Are you hiding a potential bite? Or does he just make you that nervous that your cheeks are stained red and you can hardly meet his gaze?
Azriel gives you a sharp nod, the muscle in his jaw twitching as if youâre going to plunge a knife in his back as soon as he turns.
Right. You look for a dry spot to place your new clothes, keeping your eyes on Azriel as you strip yourself bare, frantically wading out into the water until it covers all of the parts you wouldnât want his golden eyes touching right now. Itâs cold, but feels like heaven especially when you use the last of the shampoo to scrub the thick layers of grime from your hair and body.
Itâs tough to maneuver your bathing in the lake, having to keep your injured hand above the waterline so it doesnât get infected, but you make as quick of work of it as you can, the murky water obscuring your vision to anything that might lie beneath. You know that zombies canât swim, but they definitely donât need to breathe. They could be anywhere.
Cleaning your clothes without getting your other hand wet is a feat in itself, so you decide that dipping them into the water is better than nothing. Maybe you can convince Feyre to come back down here and ring out the blood for you. You cringe at how gross that sounds.
You toss them back up to shore, a wet slap as your pants land perfectly on top of the pile of drenched clothes.Â
Azriel lets you take your time. He doesnât turn towards you and he doesnât complain once as you scrub your skin raw with the dirty water. Itâs the best thing ever. You donât move to make conversation with him either, your mind completely focused on cleaning yourself up for the first time in weeks.
You climb out of the water, covering yourself with your hands the best that you can manage. The constant walking and lack of food have changed your body in a way that you havenât thought about until now. Usually youâre covered up or in blood.
Azriel listens to you struggle as you tug the denim up your legs. He doesnât offer help, but it takes all of his self-control not to peek over his shoulder at you. Thereâs a soft voice in his mind, like someone whispering in the shadows of the night, telling him to turn around, admire the beauty of the female that is behind him. He curses at it instead, glaring holes into the thick tree he has pinned under his gaze.
âThanks for waiting,â you murmur when youâre dressed. You donât care that youâre still fairly wet in your clean clothes. Youâd thought about foregoing the jeans and waiting until your legs dried a little because Cassianâs shirt covers the parts of you that you donât want anyone seeing, but your rational mind had won out, struggling into the pants in case something happens where you need to run or defend yourself.
Azriel lets out a soft breath when he turns around and gets an eyeful of you. Youâre even prettier now and he wishes that he wouldâve looked. Youâre swamped by Cassianâs shirt and your clean skin and big eyes make you look all the more vulnerable. His hands twitch at his sides as he refrains from tucking you under his arm to protect.
Your skin is clear of dirt and blood, creamy and slightly red from how hard youâd scrubbed it. The way the sun shines down on you makes him feel like heâs looking at an angel.
âWhat?â you ask, shrinking down on yourself. You knew he wouldnât be happy about Cassian giving you his shirt to wear, they needed to keep the resources they have to themselves if they want to survive longer than they already have, and the way heâs staring at you like a void confirms it.
âNothing,â Azriel responds quickly, startling at your question. He steps closer to you, some of the tension leaking out of his body when you donât flinch or move backwards. The words bubble up in his throat before he can stop them. âYou just missed a spot on your face is all.â
You havenât, but he needs some sort of excuse to touch the creamy skin of your face, enraptured by your beauty. He prays that you donât see through his façade as easily as his friends would.
âReally?â you ask, using the wet shirt youâd dipped into the lake to scrub at your cheek again.
âNo, itâsâitâs right here.â Your breath snags in your throat when he takes your soiled shirt and rubs gently at your face.
Youâre acutely aware of how close youâre standing to him. So close that if you dare suck in the gasp of air your lungs are screaming for your chest will brush against his. Itâs a stalemate as you stare up into those glorious hazel eyes, the both of you so still as to not scare the other away.
Feyreâs squawk startles you both, jumping apart like your ass is on fire.
âI, um,â you trail off, shaking your head. You snatch your shirt back from Azriel who tucks his hands quickly into his pockets, and you spin on your heel to book it back towards the camp. You duck your head so no one can see the flames kissing your cheeks.
Azriel watches you rush off and sighs before scolding himself, getting himself back into check. He tugs his damp locks in frustration and trudges after you, kicking himself for whatâs just happened.
âWeâve decided to spend the night here,â Feyre announces when you both return to the picnic table.
Summary: Anonymous request: Request in which reader falls asleep on him 𼺠like in the daytime so he doesnât move and maybe the bat boys see it and az is shushing them
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 862
___________________________________________
âHey you,â a soothing voice greets as you enter the room. Heâs lounging on a plush couch looking oh-so comfortable, a book balanced on his chest.Â
You hum in greeting, too tired to actually form words. You had gotten back late from scouting the Day Court border â a menial task, but one you took seriously â and woke up early to catch a quick training session with Cassian.Â
Youâd thought about skipping it, but you had a strict regimen for yourself and you werenât about to break that now.
The bath you had taken after practice nearly put you to sleep, the hot water relaxing your aching muscles, worries ebbing from your brain. The spectacular scents wafting from the candles and various soaps was just as calming.Â
All you were missing was your mate.
Opening his arms you fall into him, immediately curling up close, head against his chest. Your hand snakes underneath his shirt, seeking his warmth. You sigh with relief as he places a gentle kiss into your hair.Â
âContinue your reading,â you hum, âDonât mind me.â Â
His body shakes with silent laughter and you squeeze him tighter to make him stop. Azrielâs heart is a steady beat in your ear and everything else around you seems to fade away.Â
You loved getting to be with him like this, it wasnât like when the both of you had started sleeping together, keeping it as secretive as you could, letting your relationship blossom on itâs own. It reminded you of the early days when heâd come around to your place after working late, slipping into your bed silently as you read, waiting for him. Heâd place his head in your lap and the two of you sat in comfortable silence, just being.Â
You donât remember falling asleep, but you stir to the sound of voices, your mate shushing the newcomers.Â
âAwe Az,â Cassian coos, âItâs nice seeing you like this, not all brooding all the time.â The Shadowsingers chest rumbles underneath you, baring his teeth. He covers you with his shadows, trying to block the sounds.
Youâre still heavy with sleep, content with staying here pressed up against your mate forever, even if the couch isn't as comfortable as your bed. Â
âLeave us alone,â Azriel replies, nearly a groan. His arm around your waist holds you that much closer. He had finished his book a half an hour ago and spent the time admiring your beauty. He hadnât dared move, cherishing spending any amount of time with you whether you were asleep or not.
He gently thumbs over your cheek before settling his hand over your ear and the conversation goes quiet. You can hear his soothing voice as he speaks from where your head is placed on his chest, but are unable to make out the words, both because youâre on the brink of falling asleep again or because heâs talking too softly.
âAzriel,â Rhysand tuts. His heart is bursting with happiness for his brother, knowing how long and how patient he has been waiting for this moment. All those years of watching him struggle, how the Spymaster tried to hide his feelings whenever he saw his friends in love with their mates. It had been worth the wait.
You had been worth the wait.
âRhysand,â the Shadowsinger mimics with a pointed glare at the two Illyrians by the door, âThis is why houses have locks, you know.â
The High Lord turns towards the general next to him, head cocked and brows furrowed, âDid you know that Cass?â
âNo,â the taller warrior muses, eyes flickering with laughter, âI donât think I did.â
âMother above,â the Shadowsinger mutters under his breath as the two sputter out laughs. He vows to himself to find someone to put wards around his own home as soon as they leave.
âAz,â you mumble sleepily and theyâve really done it now. Woken you up for no good reason. Your body is still lax against your mates and you donât even open his eyes when he replies quietly, âYeah love?â
âTell Cassian to shut his fat mouth, some of us are trying to sleep.â And Azriel bites his lip harshly, but is unable to keep the grin from his face as the Warlordâs mouth falls open, first in shock, then offended. His body shakes with laughter and you crack a smile.
âWhy is it always me?â the crimson-siphon clad man cries, wounded.
âBecome High Lord and people will keep your name out of their mouths,â Rhysand says, clapping his friend on his shoulder, half-smug, half in apology. You send him a lazy thumbs up that causes the Night Court King to chuckle, pushing Cassian towards the door. âSorry to disturb you (Y/N), sleep well.âÂ
âIâm working you twice as hard in training tomorrow for that comment,â the Warlord calls over his shoulder as Rhysand drags him out. The door shuts loudly behind him, but you and Azriel can still hear him until they take to the skies.
You puff out a laugh, squinting open your eyes to look at your mate, a crooked grin on your face. âGood thing Iâm not planning on going to training tomorrow.â
Summary: Anonymous Request:Â youâre my favorite acotar writer on this platform, so amazing!! I was hoping to request an Eris x reader where reader is an archeron sister and they and Eris donât get along(but have chemistry). Rhys sends reader to go meet with eris (idk for why but) and theyâre standing there aggressively bantering with each other when the mating bond snaps into place for Eris (reader doesnât know). You can choose how it goes from there but can you imagine Erisâs face, itâd be hysterical. Thank you :)
Warnings:Â N/A
Word Count: 4,401
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You stare at the hand extended towards you, a silent offer, then at the face of whom it belongs to, his eyebrow raised in question.
You do not want to take his hand, have him swirl you around the dance floor like some prize to be shown off.
It wasnât supposed to be you. Nesta was the one originally set to seduce the heir to the Autumn Court, the one whose fiery gaze glowed in the presence of, not the youngest of you, reckless and naive to it all.
But newly mated to the warlord, Nesta and Cassian hadnât stopped fucking since theyâd accepted the bond. They reeked of each other; of pure, raw sex, and with the glances they received from the other guests tonight, everyone knew whom each of them claimed.
You didnât like him for a multitude of reasons. With his cocky nature and quick wit, Eris had the ability to make your skin crawl with a quick glance or a few simple words.
You hated it.
But you remembered your sister's words and your brother-in-lawâs warnings. You were to act like you enjoyed being in his presence for political gain, to forge an alliance with the Autumn Court.
Begrudgingly, you accept his hand. He immediately reels you in and you stumble over your own feet into his chest. He grins cheekily, âFalling for me already I see?â
You scoff, rolling your eyes at his words. You could see your sister cringing in her seat from the corner of your eye, and Rhysand's voice enters your mind a second later, crowing warning, Behave now, (Y/N).
Why does it have to be me? You respond, pulling the heir closer for their benefit, chest pressed flush against his own so you don't have to look at him any longer, as you glance around the room over his shoulder instead. You would rather have his breath on your neck than to have to look into those wicked amber eyes, even though the gentle breeze has your heart stuttering. Couldnât it have been someone else?
Like who? He croons. Youâre the only single one in the Inner Circle.
What about Azriel?
Rhysands chuckle fills your mind, a caress of amused darkness. Somehow I donât think Azriel is Erisâ type.
Azriel is everyone's type, you respond, gliding swiftly with the hand that ushers you into a turn, graceful as any.
I donât doubt that, but alas, my shadowsinger has a job to do. You will have to put up with him as best you can, my dear sister.
Boo, you pout, one last remark before you feel the High Lord remove himself from your mind. You finish the dance with Eris, perfectly practiced, and the song winds down and picks back up just as fast, a quicker paced one this time. He doesnât seem to want to part from you as he guides you elegantly into the next.
You have to give it to him, heâs swift on his feet like a fox, his hands holding you firmly - not sneakily trying to cop a feel - gentlemanly. Heâs not unattractive either, no, he is as handsome as High Fae can get with his sharp features, angular facial structure and you can imagine how silky soft his flaming auburn hair is just by the looks of it.
Except for when he opens his mouth.
His breath is a flame licking against your ear as he leans down to whisper, âI know youâre just doing this as a favor to Rhysand,â he spins you away before pulling you back in, âAnd I think that we can both agree that we wish your sister was in your place right now.â
And that was very much true. You wished that you werenât the one having to dance with the sly Autumn Heir, but catching a glimpse of Nesta and Cassian, your heart warmed. His hand was splayed across her lower back, eyes straining to keep a lookout on the dance floor when all he really wanted to do was look at her.
It made you long for something like that. A love like theirs, like Feyre and Rhysand. Even Elain was mated, though whether she chose to pursue the Autumn brother or the shadowsinger had yet to be decided. You had no one. Hadnât even met a male who could keep your attention for long enough, who challenged you and interested you andâ
You hum, not taking his bait. It isnât the first time that you and Eris have been in each other's presence. In fact, youâve seen him around the Night Court on multiple occasions as he was working with Rhysand on something that you werenât let in on.
Oh but he wants to piss you off, thrives off of how riled you get in his presence. It makes his heart race to watch you with all that fire behind your eyes, your words, even with your power of manipulating water.
Yes, itâs true. When you had been shoved under the inky liquid of the cauldron you opened your mouth to scream, and the water choked you, forcing its way down your throat. The effects of the magical pot were near instant. When you found your footing and rose from the tub, water sloshed like a tidal wave around you, taking out one of the cronies that had held you under.
As soon as the song ends youâre taking a step away from him, nearly shoving out of his arms. You steel a pinched smile on your mouth and curtsy slightly in thanks. His bright eyes glow at the sight and you turn away, rushing to the outskirts of the room where most linger, watching instead.
You donât even realize heâs hot on your tail until youâve taken a sip from a cup of wine and he speaks, startling you, âThat was quite the sight, you bowing to me.â
âDonât flatter yourself,â you scoff, âI only did it for your egoâs benefit.â And to make it known to your brother-in-law that you are playing nice.
âYou can stroke my ego all night long,â he smirks, and your jaw drops, âShall we go somewhere more private?â
You send the Mother a silent prayer that Rhysand will forgive you for what youâre about to do. Your cheeks burn at his foul words, filling you with rage at this arrogant male who has done nothing but insult you all night. Your hand tightens around your glass and it only takes half a thought before all of the beverages on the table behind you are in the air, shooting straight towards him, soaking him from head to toe.
Wine splashes off of him and youâre too close to avoid the recoil, your own body and dress splattered with red freckles. Some of the partygoers shriek and jump away at the commotion and the music falls silent, its abrupt ending ringing in your ears.
Azriel is there first, winnowing directly to your side and glaring down at the heir, blue siphons blazing. âWhat did you do to her?â
Eris is gobsmacked, drink dripping from the fringe of his hair and into his eyes. You pry your eyes away from the droplet sliding slowly down the column of his neck and under the collar of his shirt.
âYou littleââ
âNow now,â Rhysand makes his appearance, demanding the attention of the room easily with that false persona he puts on when he comes to the Hewn city. He waves his hand flippantly and the wine cleans itself, Eris once more dry but still shooting daggers at you. âI think itâs time to end this party.â
What happened to behaving? The High Lord speaks into your mind.
You cross your arms over your chest, your glare not leaving Erisâ as you reply.
He started it.
__________
âAbsolutely not, nope. No fucking way.â
âYou donât have a choice, (Y/N).â
âI thought that was what this place was all about,â you retort, fuming, âGetting to make our own choices!â
âNot when it concerns the safety of my court as a whole.â
You grind your teeth together in anger. All Feyre had told you about was how considerate Rhysand was. How he would never make her do anything that she didnât want to, how he always gave her a choice.
You couldnât help but to think it was all bullshit.
He is sending you over to the Autumn Court on your own to try and sway the Autumn heir. You hadnât been to any of the other courts yet and you werenât too keen on the idea of going to the one you loathed the most on your first solo trip.
âYouâre literally throwing me to the wolves,â you protest. And you donât want to get upset like the child they all think you are, but itâs not fair to ask this of you. Ask wasnât quite the right term for what was happeningâŚyou didnât have a choice in the matter at all.
âMore like foxes,â Cassian adds, shrinking when you send that harsh glare his way, âSorry! Not helping.â
âAz?â
The spymaster's cheeks tinge pink with the attention and his shadows swallow him up whole, winnowing him from the spot.
Coward.
âThereâs no passing this off on someone else. Itâs going to be you, and only you.â
âBut why?â
âBecause we need him on our side,â the High Lordâs tone is unforgiving, set in stone, âAnd you need to apologize to him for what happened at the party.â
âI told you he was being an asshole,â you retort. You had also shown Rhys exactly what had happened and while he hadnât been pleased with the words spoken towards you, they still needed his alliance.Â
âFey,â you beg your sister who has been too quiet. Her own stubborn spirit couldnât be quieted unlessâ
âDonât tell me you think this is a good idea too,â you groan in realization.Â
Feyre shrugs helplessly, âThereâs no other way.â
Bullshit, you want to spit at them. Youâre sure theyâre reading your mind anyway because your sister comments, âYouâll understand one day.â
You bite your tongue. The words that are begging to spill from your mouth arenât worth it, not worth getting into even more trouble with your family. Instead you stalk out of the room, fists tightly clenched in your dress and head held high, Rhysand's final words ringing in your mind.Â
You have an hour to prepare yourself.Â
__________
âChin up, little one,â are the words youâre left with as you watch Rhys disappear into mist, leaving you across the border of the Autumn Court.
Youâre utterly alone now and you shiver as the fall wind licks up the back of your neck, the air cooling as the sun descends quickly between the thick trees.
They had barely given you instruction, telling you that you didnât have to worry about anything, that Eris would be there shortly to escort you to the estate and not to move under any circumstances.
But you were cold, bored, and mad at everyone. At your sisters and the rest of the Inner Circle for all agreeing to this. For making this decision without your input. At Eris for being that same cocky asshole as always, and not showing up as quickly as he was supposed to.
So instead you started wandering through the brush, arms tucked tightly around yourself. Youâd changed into your leathers and while they were warm, the fading fall bite was colder than you had anticipated.
Stumbling through the darkening woods you had no idea where you were going, which way leads to town. The brush is thick and large roots intertwine on the ground, forcing you to keep your eyes down so you donât trip.
You donât even realize the stealthily moving roots as youâre too focused on the path ahead, the thick limbs slinking towards you in a lethal crawl, a snake slithering after its prey, sliding over and under the other branches, raising to strike.
âWatch out,â someone warns, and you spin wildly, face to face with the sharpened root, ready to impale you with its dirty tendril. Your mouth opens in horror as it moves and you raise your arms up high to block yourself â an instinct â squeezing your eyes shut and waiting for the attack.
But it doesnât come. A hand grabs your arm aggressively, and you feel the familiar notion of winnowing. Itâs not like the night court, shadows and wind carrying you into the next plane, but like the breath of a candle blowing out, white smoke curling around you for an instant, that smokey scent wrapping you up and holding you close.
âWhat on earth do you think youâre doing?â he growls angrily, releasing you as soon as youâve hit solid ground. His chest is heaving, heart beating wildly, had been since heâd arrived at the meeting spot and you were nowhere to be found.
Heâd scented you somehow through the dominant smell of the Autumn Court; fresh dirt and pine trees. Followed you until he finally caught up, the entire time spent wondering what kind of creatures couldâve gotten to you before he could, whether it be any beast in the woods or his father's hunting dogs.
âI waited for you,â you bite back, not sure why youâre feeling a slight pang in your chest, âAnd when you didnât show up I took matters into my own hands.â
He snorts, rolling his eyes, âThat you did. And look where it got you! Nearly killed.â
âHow was I supposed to know that you had an enchanted forest for Cauldronâs sake?â
âThose trees trap people who cross into our lands that don't carry the scent of Autumn. They will wrap around your limbs and keep you alive for days, torturing souls with their slow growing roots. First, they start under your fingernails, growing up inside of you until youâve been begging for mercy for weeks, months, years even. You have no idea how dangerous they are.â His chest aches with what heâd found, what heâd seen them do, what couldâve happened to you.
You swallow harshly, staring into his angry gaze. Itâs apparent that youâve made a mistake, and youâre sure that Eris doesnât want your blood on his hands, for your sisters and the rest of the Night Court would surely never forgive him. He needed their alliance as much as Rhysand needed hisâŚand you were just fucking it up even more.
âIâm sorry,â you clear your tight throat, casting your eyes downwards, taking in his white knuckled grip, âI didnât know.â
âAnd that is one of the many reasons I told Rhysand not to bring you here,â Eris says, unclenching his fists in favor of straightening his collar when he wants to grab you, shake you for your stupidity, make sure that youâre in one piece. You look shaken, anyone would be. His father enchanted that forest long ago, and it would be the first thing heâd change when he took over the crown.
âI can go back,â you retort, that familiar fire burning in your chest. He didnât want you here and the Night Court didnât want you either. You yearned to feel like you belonged somewhere, not treated like this.
âIf you want to wander through the woods all night with Mother knows what creatures lurk in the night, be my guest,â he replies, waving you off.
Your eyes widen at his words, glancing around frantically at the frightening woods around you, starting to come alive the lower the sun gets to the horizon. Heâs about to winnow back to the estate when you respond, âNo. Please. Stay with me,â your voice wobbles slightly, eyes filled with tears about to spill over, the pale moon shining brightly in them. You donât want to be out here alone at night.
Eris turns to spit a snide remark but he bites his tongue when he sees the look on your face. The helpless scared look that has him burning bright within, reaching out for you with a sharp twist in his chest. His amber eyes widen at the feeling but you donât seem to notice. All you see is him falling a step back, a strange look in his eyes that you mistake for him leaving you.
âPlease,â you repeat softly. You donât think youâd survive it with all of the creatures and murderous trees lurking in the woods at night. And as much as you hated Eris, he knew these lands better than you, knew more about fighting than you could ever wish to learn. He could protect you. And as much as you hate to admit it, âIâm scared.â
And youâre lucky, he supposes, that the bond formed between the two of you, though you had no idea. He couldnât leave you if he tried. Well, he could, but it would be horrible for him, being so far from you.
He didnât know how he was going to stand it. You were from Night, and him, Autumn. The two of you hated each other. Is this some twisted fate? The mother has to be playing a trick on him.
But no, not when he really took a good look at you. You had the stubborn mind not to wait for the male, heading off on your own without a care in the world, so oblivious to the dangers of this world, vastly different from those from the human realm.
Your eyes are no longer full of malice, but genuine terror of the magicked forest at nightfall.
He offers you a hand, âCome on.â
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Eris could easily winnow you to the estate, like you had been told you were going to be staying at. But with the fresh bruises quickly healing beneath this long coat, he couldnât risk bringing you there while his enraged father was brewing around the castle.
Especially not now that heâd found out you were mates.
Instead, he takes you to a cave. Itâs damp and cramped but otherwise as clean as a cave could get, you supposed. You swallow back your questions, lucky that heâs even staying with you throughout the night. Youâd take any place over being left alone.
There are faint marks carved into the walls, you notice as he lights up a fire with a snap of his fingers, the wood heâd collected on your way over. Tallys, they look like, as if someone had spent some time here, counting the days passed by.
Neither of you speak as you settle down around the fire, thankful for the warmth after your long evening in the chill autumn. You wish you were back in Velaris right now in your cozy bed, the hearth crackling loudly in your room, warming it thoroughly.
But youâll settle for this for now, though you study Eris from the other side of the fire, clearly put off by something.
Somethings, more like, as he avoids your gaze, unsure of what heâs supposed to do with you now. He keeps his eyes away from the walls, knowing all too well what those marks mean, having carved them with a sharp rock himself.Â
Almost every time heâd run away from home, after his father had let up on him enough for him to do so, he would come back to this cave. A secret that no one but him knew. Heâd carve a shaky line into the stone wall, hot tears streaming down his face.
Heâd stopped coming as often as he grew older, learning how to deal with it as he accepted more duties around the estate, watching with keen eyes how his father ruled the court.Â
He swore to the mother that heâd never be like his father.
Shaking the memories from his head he finally catches your gaze. Theyâre gorgeous, as is the rest of you, but those eyesâŚhis heart picks up in pace. His hands itch to reach out and touch you but he restrains himself. He can see the questions swirling in those intelligent eyes, but he looks away back into the burning fire in front of him.
âGo to sleep (Y/N).â
You do as told.
__________
You wake with a start, his touch searing hot against the back of your neck, not enough to leave marks, but enough to startle you from your slumber.
âWell, you survived, Princess,â is how your day starts and you groan. Itâs too early for him to be a cocky prick, isnât it? âWait until everyone hears it. The great Feyre Cursebreakers sister, canât survive a night on her own,â he sneers, dusting off the dirt from his wrinkled coat. âTell me, Sweet, do you keep the company of males most nights?â He winces as soon as the words are out of his mouth. He doesnât mean it in the slightest, heâs just used to putting on this act for everyone heâs around. But youâŚhis mateâŚmaybe he wouldnât have to pretend.
Before he can apologize youâre already rolling your eyes and climbing to your feet, stretching your hands over your head.Your back pops satisfyingly and you sigh in bliss, the muscles stiff from sleeping on the cave ground. âLeave me alone, Eris.â
âOh?â he quirks an eyebrow, one side of his mouth turning up into a taunting smirk. Itâs unfair, how good he looks even though heâs just slept on the floor of a dirty cave all night. You straighten your rumpled shirt self-consciously and notice how he marks the movements of your hands up and down your body. You fight the blush thatâs threatening to spill across your cheeks. âNow that the sun is out you think you will be able to survive in my lands?â
âYour lands?â you snort, shoving past him and into the bright forest. You shoot a cautious grimace to the trees but breathe in the fresh air. Could you survive in the forest all day? Probably not. And you didnât think Rhys was going to be so eager to pick you back up. But it would mean you wouldnât have to put up with Erisâ smart remarks every chance he got, so you would take the option.
In fact, Rhysand hadnât told you when heâd be back at all. Was this your sistersâ way of dumping you off onto someone else?
Youâre sick of these games, the politics of a bunch of centuries old fae males with their stubborn ways and heads up their own asses. Tired of the stupid little comments, him trying to get under your skin. Itâs as clear as day that heâs as much of an outcast to his court as you are, otherwise you wouldnât have slept here.Â
âYou are not High Lord yet, Eris,â you comment, deciding to head in the direction opposite the forest, âBesides, whoâs to say the power will even pass to you?â
And you mustâve hit a sore spot with that remark because heâs rushing in and crowding you against the hard rock of the side of the cave, caging you in with his forearms on both sides of your head. His amber eyes are filled with flames, his breath fanning across your face as he tries to contain his boiling rage.
His voice is deathly calm as he speaks in a low voice, âDo you not think it will come to me?â
You swallow hard, unable to look away from his burning gaze. You try to get your bearings, gather your thoughts, but itâs hard with his warm body pressed tightly against your own. You can feel every contour of muscle through his thin trousers and silk button down.
And you dare ask him the question that no one has before. âDo you even want it?â
You could swear his heart stops beating with how still everything is around you. Even the forest around you silences at your question, as if holding their own breath to listen.
âI do want it, if only to make things better than what they are now.â
And maybe youâd underestimated him, listened to too many rumors about the heir to Autumn. He wasnât like his overbearing father in the slightest, except for that snarky mouth. You can see it in his eyes, the desperation for you to believe him. He just wants someone to accept him.
âYouâre not proving to be any different than him with that mouth of yours,â you murmur, even though you know your words will hurt.Â
And they hit their mark, you can tell by the way his eyes flash and that phantom tug in your chest. You hold his gaze, wanting nothing more than to press up onto your tiptoes and see if he tastes like the salted caramel candies heâd gifted your sister.
âI believe you can do much more than you think, Eris,â you lick your lips and his eyes follow for the briefest of seconds, âIf youâd just let everyone see the real you.â
His resolve cracks. He can no longer control himself, ducking down to capture your lips in a searing kiss. Your hands automatically move, winding up and around his neck and into his hair, returning this kiss with as much force as he is. His lips burn against your own, his tongue branding your neck as he moves down the column of your throat but you canât find it in yourself to care. Canât find the strength to summon your own power, water to cool the marks heâs licking across your throat, nipping harshly like an animal thatâs been released from its cage after so long.
He lifts you into his arms, pressing you further into the stone behind you and you gasp, arching into him as his hips press firmly into yours, groaning low in his throat.
âYou can feel that donât you?â he rasps, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes shut tight as he tries to rein himself in. His chest heaves against your own and youâre aching, you donât want to stop, already addicted to his fiery touch.
You never thought youâd like playing with fire so much.
You hum, eyelashes fluttering as his breath fans across your face, giving that tether a gentle tug.
His eyes shoot open, amber gaze locking on yours. He presses you even further into the wall, like heâs trying to mold the both of you into one.Â
Notes: And now back to my regularly scheduled content.
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âOkay,â Mor drawls, âI think itâs time for you to slow down a bit.â She takes the shot from your hand and shares a look with Feyre. It wouldâve been your fourth in a row if she hadnât grabbed it, and you pout at the blonde who drinks it herself.
âWhy?â you whine from where youâre stationed at the bar, hadnât moved since you walked in and headed straight for the crowded area. âI donât even feel anything.âÂ
What you meant was that you could still feel the hurt in your heart from the way that he was treating you. The bond had been completely silent since you had walked out that door after your argument, the look on his face burned into your mind.
âItâs all going to hit you at once, donât you worry,â Mor scoffs, rolling her eyes. Feyre hands you a drink instead, a clear one that you squint your eyes at, wondering if itâs even alcohol at all. You take a tentative sip, shoulders relaxing and sighing out at the bitter taste of spirits. You thank her, clicking your glass against hers, itâs just how you like it and exactly what you need.
âLetâs find somewhere to sit,â the High Lady ushers you towards your usual table. Itâs empty â not that youâre surprised as it was always reserved for the High Lord and his family. They slide in on either side of you, trapping you in the middle of the bench seat and you sigh, maybe this wasnât going to be a fun night out after all.
âSoâŚwhatâs going on with you and Az?â Rhysandâs cousin asks and Feyre shoots her a warning look like maybe they had planned on warming you up to talking about him. Mor was never good at being subtle. You make a face before schooling your features, taking a long sip from your drink and scanning the crowd of people at the bar, on the dance floor. A few males look your way, their gazes sultry, even though they know exactly who you all are. Everyone else seems to be having much more fun than you are.
âI donât want to talk about him,â you finally reply, playing with the edge of your glass.
âWhy not?â
âWhy should I?â you bite back, cheeks flushed with alcohol and annoyance. You didnât come here to talk about the fight you had with your mate, you were here to do the exact opposite. âSo you can report back to him?âÂ
âWe just want to help you,â she offers gently, placing a hand over yours that are crossed on top of the table.Â
âThereâs nothing to help,â you shrug her off, swirling your drink in your cup. In fact, it feels a bit light, watching the ice swim around in circles as you take a calming breath, your throat a bit tight. âIâm done putting up with the bullshit.â
You werenât here to complain. Especially not to Mor and Feyre, who have been friends with Azriel a lot longer than you have even known him. Especially not when heâs had a thing for Mor once upon a time and Feyreâs mate is part of the problem.
Even though you know the High Lady would kick Rhysandâs ass for you, it wasnât her fault.
Azriel needed to learn how to say no.
And this is what it would get him if he didnât rethink his priorities. You werenât the kind of female to keep quiet and wait at home while your mate worked himself to death. No, you wanted someone to fight for you, to stand up for you and care for you.Â
âIâm going to get another drink,â you mumble, scooting closer to Feyre who gives you a sympathetic look and moves out of the way.
You didnât need their pity, didnât want it. All you wanted right now was to forget what was going on, to be someone else for a moment, not a part of the Inner Circle, not a feared warrior, just you.
But of course, you canât get even that.
Leaning up against the bar waiting your turn to order, making polite conversation with the fae male next to you, you begin to feel eerie, the hairs on your neck standing, like someoneâs watching you. You throw a look over your shoulder to where your friends sit, now seated closely and laughing together. Furrowing your brows, you canât shake the feeling, scanning the crowd, looking for the source, the male next to you still blathering into your ear.
Your gaze catches the culprit and you roll your eyes. Of course it would be your mate, sitting with his brothers directly across the bar from where your seat was with the High Lady and Rhysandâs cousin. Theyâre seated mirror to your own, Rhysand and Cassian flanking Azriel in between them. His back is stiff, wings poised rigidly, threateningly, hazel eyes blazing with rage at the male leaning in close to you, whispering in your ear. If his brothers notice, they donât say.
Tilting your head slightly towards the male behind you, eyes locked on your mates, testing. Azrielâs knuckles are white where theyâre wrapped around his nearly full cup, hadnât been able to take even a sip, with the burning pit in his stomach since you walked out that door.
He was spiraling, every single instinct he had screamed at him to go after you, his shadows crawling towards the door in which you had just stormed out of. They clawed at the dark oak, a frenzy of black mist and as frantic as he felt inside.
But he didnât. He was rooted in his spot, boots studded to the floor. He couldnât wrap his head around what transpired. He was being neglectful as a partner, and to himself, working himself into the ground for his High Lord. He hadnât even realized how far this had all gone until you had decided you were done, werenât going to sit around waiting for him to get his priorities straight.
Rhysand could feel his Spymasterâs emotions roaring in the base of his mind, swelling like fog, the air becoming thick with distress as he winnowed directly to his brother, sending a mental shout to Cassian to join them immediately.Â
He arrived to his unstable brother, pacing around his room, muttering his panic-stricken thoughts to himself and tearing at his hair. The High Lord had never seen Azriel like this, so loud, his boots thudding against the floor with each step he took. It even seemed like his shadows were screeching, crying out for something. He didnât know what to do.
Cassian had arrived shortly after, panting from the quick flight over, entering the room just as Rhysand finished looking into Azâs mind to see the full extent of what was happening. He then showed the Warlord, whoâs stomach dropped alongside Azrielâs in shock.
âFuck, Az,â he breathed, eyes wide. He couldnât imagine what the Shadowsinger was going through right now, as far as what he saw, it really looked like you were done. âWhy did you do this to yourself?â
The glare directed at him from the Spymaster had him flinching away, sharing his own weary look with Rhysand.
âWhere did she go?â His voice is dark, utterly calm, the complete opposite of his mannerisms. He needs to find you, needs to get you back somehow, even if he has to beg you for it. You mean more to him than he even knew until he didnât have you any longer.
âWhy donât we all go down to the kitchen for a drink?â Rhys tries, approaching Azriel like he would a wild beast.
âWhere. Did. She. Fucking. Go.â
âSheâs at Ritas, with Feyre and Mor,â the High Lord lets out. He knows the feeling, the protectiveness, the urge to be near his mate.Â
The Shadowsinger doesnât say anything, quickly letting his shadows lead him to you, winnowing from his spot. Rhysand curses, grabbing Cassianâs arm and following his brother quickly.Â
âAz, stop,â Rhys grabs his brother around his shoulder, halting the male from storming into the bar and causing a scene. âI think you should let her cool down for a bit, get some rest and try talking to her tomorrow.â
âYou donât get to tell me whatâs best. Not after giving me so much work,â Azriel snarls, baring his teeth slightly. He knew it was only his own fault though, and not Rhysands. But thisâŚyouâŚthis couldnât be the end.Â
âI just need to see her,â he rationalized, near pleading as Cassian stealthily moved behind him to block him from the door should he choose to spin on his heel. âI just need to see her.â
And he did just that, sitting across the bar at a table that had never been frequented by your group, watching with those trained eyes. You didnât know how you could miss the three Illyrians with the enormous wings they held so proudly, walking into the bar across from you, said wings tucked slightly awkwardly behind them due to the close quarters at their new table.
But now, as you broke your staring contest, taking the drink offered to you by the very interested fae male beside you, and clinking your glass against his in a silent cheer, you were ready to play that game.
He was stark opposite to your mate in every way, but not unattractive, just not the male you were in love with, despite the argument going on between you.
Youâd show Azriel what it would be like, what it could be like, if he didnât get his shit together.
Slurping the shot of liquor back, you try not to grimace at the taste, offering him a coy smile and placing a gentle hand on his forearm, brushing your fingertips lightly against his sweaty skin, the male so easily grinning back at you proudly, like you were an easy prize to be won.
The Shadowsinger is sitting stock straight in his seat, glaring down the length of the bar to the male who was flirting with you, who was too close to you, who was going after something that was his. His brothers at his table were also stiff, muscles taught and ready to apprehend the Spymaster should he choose to pounce.
You didnât care that your friends were watching as you led the male onto the dancefloor. Petty as you might be, you had a point to prove. And you werenât going to back down.Â
But you didnât let the male touch you. You had more respect for yourself, of your mate watching you. You knew exactly what would happen if you let him, dancing away from his fingertips every time he reached out to pull you in closer, twirling around on the dancefloor with a reassuring smile aimed at him, laughing lightly when his brows twitched, agitated, then settled into his own easy smile at the look you gave him.
And just as you suspected, when the male had had enough of your toying, catching your wrist in his harsh grip and tugging you into his chest, Azriel snapped.
In blinding white fury, he was too quick for his brothers to catch, bolting upright from his seat in between them as he leaped over the table, his glass of whiskey crashing to the floor. His wings flared threateningly as he stalked directly towards the two of you, Cassian and Rhysand hot on his heels. Someone screamed in fear and a few fled the bar completely, but most stopped to watch as the Shadowsinger of the Night Court, Death-Bringer, as he slinked over to the male who had laid a hand on his mate, Feyre and Mor pushing to the front of the crowd.
It was uncanny, the dark look in Azrielâs eyes as the music continued playing, bass heavy and colored faelights swinging wildly throughout the room, along with his shadows. Your hand was still on the males chest, spread wide like your mate's wings behind him, forcing him from pulling you any closer.
âDid she say you could touch her?â His voice was a low growl in his throat and his hands itched for the knives heâd been forced to leave at the house, not being allowed in the bar. Azriel refrained from reaching for his plethora of well hidden weapons still adorning his body.
The male swallowed, eyes bulging as he looked from the Shadowsinger to the Warlord at his left, then the High Lord at his right, and finally, to you. You felt slightly bad for him, but tried to tamp down your arousal from Azrielâs safeguard. He wouldnât get off that easily.
His mouth pops open but the words catch in his throat, spluttering a nonsense of apologies to the High Lord and his friends. You shove him back, a light press to his chest, a sign for him to get the hell out of here, as you yourself step backwards, your backside pressing flush against your mate's toned front, stopping him from following the terrified male into the street. His shadows curl around you protectively. You can feel Azrielâs chest heaving, the anger radiating from him behind you, that hot iron pressing into your mind through the bond.
You whirl around to face him when the fae has disappeared through the door and the patrons resumed their dancing after Rhysand declared a round on him to the entire club.Â
âWhat the fuck are you doing?â you hiss, glancing around at the crowd. After Rhysands offer everyone seems to have already forgotten what theyâd been watching so intently only a moment ago.
âYouâre mine.â His voice is still a growl, still simmering and his eyes are glued to the door, wanting to go after the male. The other two Illyrians stand casually by his side now, talking to the others from the Inner Circle, but you know theyâre watching Azriel carefully.Â
âAm I?â you scoff, crossing your arms, âIt sure doesnât seem like it.â
His gaze cuts to yours, eyes softening immediately. Your heart jerks as you stare up at him, scanning his exhausted face.
âIâm sorry,â he murmurs, suddenly all too aware of the space that youâre in, with your friends around. This isnât the place he wants to do this.Â
âYeah, well itâs too late for apologies, Azriel,â you stand your ground, a harsh look on your face as you gaze up at him.
You hear his breath hitch as the Shadowsinger flinches at your jarring words. The devastation flashing across his face is a stab to your heart and his voice sounds broken, like the words are hard to get out from his tightening throat, âNo. It canât be.â
Your eyes burn, filling with tears, and you have to look away from him, canât blink or the first drop will spill over and then you know there will be no going back. You hunch your shoulders, trying to hide yourself as you scan the crowd, sweeping over your friends sympathetic faces before Azrielâs shadows are building thick around the two of you, the music muffled and encapsulating you in a shield, the only light coming from the cobalt Siphons littered across his body.
âWhy are you even here?â your voice is a lot smaller than youâd like it to be right now.
âBecause I want to be,â his voice is so full of truth that your head snaps up to look at him. âI know that Iâve been working too hard lately, that Iâve been treating you badly, and Iâm so sorry for it (Y/N). You donât deserve that in the slightest,â he swallows hard, his hazel eyes flickering back and forth between your own as he speaks his truth.Â
For a moment he pauses, watching you, the only woman heâs ever truly loved with all of his being, body and soul, standing before him, so broken and neglected.
And he gets down on his knees before you.
Your arms fall slack to your sides at your surprise, mouth dropping open in shock at your mate kneeling before you.Â
Death bows to his Love.
âIâve always felt this compelling need to be more than I am. Itâs my duty to take care of Velaris, but itâs also my duty to take care of you. No matter how hard I work, I canât seem to find a way to help the innocent fae that will be dragged into this bloody fight. Itâs been eating away at me and I havenât been able to stop thinking about it, day and night. I canât sleep. Seeing you tonight with someone who isnât me drove me insane, that I canât even protect my own family, and the only thing Iâve done these past few weeks is make you resent me.â
You want to reach out for him, run your thumb across his cheek, but heâs not done.
âAnd if I can no longer be yours, if you cannot forgive me, I will understand, and I will not be another's. I love you and only you, or I love no one.â
Your own legs give out, crashing harshly to the ground in front of him, tears flowing freely down your face from his words, the truth heâd so openly shared with you.
âAzriel,â you sniffle, reaching out to hold his hands in your own. He clasps yours tightly, like you are going to let him go for good. âI donât hate you and Iâve never hated you and I never will hate you. I love you with my entire being. You canât see it, but youâre helping these fae more than youâll ever realize and I wonât allow you to sit here and speak badly about yourself. I love that you care so much about your friends, family, and strangers, but I just need you to come home to me every night because I cannot sleep without you either, Shadowsinger.â
âOh Gods,â he gasps like he can finally breathe, body going lax at your words, âI love you too (Y/N).â
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Summary:Â You and Az and your ever-growing family.
Warnings: None.
Word Count: 3,175
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Azriel was a big softie. He loved you with his entire being and more. Heâd never thought heâd find his mate, never thought heâd feel this good, this in love. The two of you truly were two halves of a whole, destined to be together by the Mother.
He couldnât wait to have a family of his own, one that he could treat better than his own treated him. No, his would be nothing like that. And when youâd asked how many children he wanted, heâd replied seriously, âAs many as youâll give me.â
__________
âReady, love?â Azriel sticks his head into the bathroom where you were finishing your hair, twisting it in an intricate style. You meet his loving gaze in the mirror, a giddy smile on your face and a flutter in your stomach.
âYeah, I just have to take this tonic,â you replied, moving into the bedroom to where youâd left the leaves steeping in the hot water, your mate following closely. âHow much longer do I have to keep drinking this?â you question, nose scrunched in distaste, âItâs awful.â
âYou can stop drinking it whenever you want, Darling,â the Shadowsinger replies, folding you into his arms from behind. He trails soft kisses down across your shoulders. In all honesty, he wanted you to stop days ago. He wanted that budding scent filling his nose, consuming his senses again. He wanted to scream it from the top of the mountain, that you were carrying his child, but you had both deemed it too risky to tell anyone yet, with him in his role as the Spymaster of the Night Court.
You sigh at the warm kisses heâs pressing into your skin. You were both unbelievably happy about the news and you couldnât wait until you could tell your friends. You know it was eating at Az, not being able to tell his brothers just yet, just as it was hard to contain yourself, wanting so badly to ask Feyre for parenting advice already.
âLetâs go,â you place the half-drank cup on top of the dresser. It wouldnât wear off for a bit yet, but you didnât have it in yourself to drink it any longer. You wanted your friends and family to know. From the look on Azâs face, you knew he was done waiting too.
__________
âSo thatâsâŚeight, nine shots?â Mor counted to herself, pointing at everyone gathered in the booth at Ritas. Their usual spot is getting smaller and smaller as the family and Inner Circle keeps growing. Theyâd have to combine this table with the one behind it soon enough. The music was blaring and Rhysandâs cousin had already slipped into the crowd towards the bar before you could protest.
You glance at your mate who shrugs slightly, his hand finding yours in your lap, intertwining your fingers as he sends a comforting feeling down the bond. You were nervous, not sure why, but you felt as if you shouldâve stayed home instead, wanting to wrap your hands protectively around your stomach with the loud atmosphere around you.Â
You squeeze Azâs hand tight in your own, taking a breath that was supposed to calm you but ended up making you a bit nauseous, the stench of sweat and arousal flitting through the air. Your stomach churns and youâre about to make an excuse to leave but Mor is back with a wicked grin and a tray of shots in one hand, an entire bottle of expensive liquor in the other.
Everyone picks up their glass after some goading from the blonde, everyone except you. Youâd thought about it, picking up the glass and making it seem like you were going to drink it with them, but in a burst of courage you felt like they needed to know, deserved to know now.
âUh, (Y/N), that oneâs for you,â Cassian says from next to you, pulling the platter closer.
With a quick glance to your mate â whoâs eyes are beaming with pride â you shake your head softly, âI canât.â
âYou canât? What do you mean youâholy shit! Youâre not,â the Warlordâs surprised shout draws everyoneâs attention, his eyes frantically flicking between yours and Azrielâs. âAre you?â
âIâm pregnant,â you breathe, unable to bite back your smile. Cassian whoops and claps Az excitedly on the shoulder, then hugs you close. Congratulations are exchanged around the table and yeah, you knew it was all going to be fine. Sheepishly, you look at Mor, whose arm is frozen in the air, preparing to toast.
âFuck,â her laugh is wet, rich brown eyes shimmering with tears, âHereâs to you, Az, and the newest member of the Inner Circle.â
__________
Feyre had told you it was going to be painful but you didnât think it would be this painful.
Youâd been blessed with the hips for bearing Illyrian babies, somewhere in your muddled lineage someone had taken an Illyrian as a mate, the trait appearing in and out of your ancestry for generations to come, and thankfully, it had been one you received, although you and your mate had still been worried about your ability to bare half-Illyrian babes.
The fact that your son had wings wasnât the problem, it was that birthing him hurt like a motherfucker.
âKeep pushing,â Madja urged and you bit back your reply, clenching your teeth and grunting loudly as you did as told. Azriel was right by your side the entire time, put up with your cursing and squeezing his hands so hard heâd lost circulation for a moment.
âYou can do it,â he murmurs sweetly into your ear, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. His hazel eyes wide with wonder and excitement. âHeâs almost here.â
âAlmost?â you cry out, chest heaving as you pause your pushing to catch your breath. All you want to do is collapse back against the tub and nap but Az is slipping in behind you and brushing your matted hair from your face, kissing your sweaty temple as he helps hold your legs. âWhy canât he be here already?â you whine.
âJust a few more pushes, Lady, and heâll be here. Come on.â
And the nursemaid is right, collapsing against your mate as cries fill the room. You can feel Azâs breath catch in his throat at the first sight of the babe. As soon as she hands him to you itâs like everyone else in the room disappears except for you, your mate, and the newborn.
âOh my Gods,â you whisper, looking down at the howling boy in your arms. Heâs the most beautiful thing youâve ever seen and you think your heart is going to burst in your chest with how full it is. You look over your shoulder at your mate who canât stop staring at the babe.
âHeâsâŚâ Azriel trails off, not being able to describe his son's beauty. Heâs at a complete loss for words as he stares down at the babe with wide, curious, adoring eyes.
âYeah,â you agree, shushing the babe softly, âHe is.â
âWhatâs his name?â Rhysand asks once the Inner Circle had been allowed in to meet him. The High Lord remembers the first time he got to hold his own son. It was the most terrifying but thrilling moment in his life and he admires his brother, the one who was usually so stoic, now unable to hide the love from his eyes as he looks at you and the babe thatâs being passed around the circle.
âHis name is Wren.â
__________
Your second birth was worse than the first, nothing like youâd been expecting. Perhaps it was your fault to think that it would be like exactly the first, but this babe was bigger and earlier, and Azriel nearly missed it because he had been away on an assignment.
He was furious as he stormed into the room, racing to your side. He would tear Rhys apart in the ring for almost making him miss this, with his bullshit request. Never again would he let himself be talked into something so close to your due date.Â
Baz came into the world kicking and screaming like he was fighting his way through hell, nearly tearing you up from the inside out. Azriel had never been more scared, watching the amount of blood that poured from you, but you didnât care, didnât care about the intense pain you felt, worse than the contractions in a way, as your son was looking up at you with those big wide eyes, mirror to your own.
You and your mate knew he was going to be your troublemaker from the start.
His connection with Cassian was sure proof of that.
The Warlord would sneak him sweets, tell him to do naughty things, say improper words. It was entertaining for a while, but your mate was not happy in the slightest, growling at his brother to cut it out, and Azriel had made sure to make his threat known in the training ring.
__________
Itâs late and you should definitely be asleep, but the excitement of your news keeps you awake. That fluttering feeling in your stomach as you woke, and not from your sexy mate who insisted that you woke up in pure bliss, his tongue devouring you whole.
It had been confirmed by Madja this morning, while Azriel, Rhysand, and Cassian took all of the cousins into town for their first Night Scouts meeting. This was a new group for the young children of the city to instruct them on how to make ethical and moral choices throughout their lifetime, teaching them right from wrong by following their Scout rules.
You had yet to tell your mate, it had been a very busy day for all of you and your new scent hadnât quite made an appearance yet. You had had an inkling after the last time you and Azriel had sex, the both of you so ready and extremely excited to have another child together. With Baz out of his terrible-twos, you and your mate were both missing having a baby around.
Wren is a cuddler, much like your mate. He'll wrap himself up in your arms and he loves it when you hold him close, running a comforting hand up and down his back, his head lying against your chest as his eyelids grow heavier and heavier. He revels in the gentle kisses you press into his forehead, snuggling that much closer as he falls into a peaceful slumber.
Baz is all over the place when he sleeps. You and Azriel often find yourselves woken in the middle of the night to a face full of limbs, a limp hand splayed across your head or a tiny foot jammed into your side. He shifts around throughout the night, restless movements and you worry, wonder what heâs dreaming of until he lets out a sleepy giggle. Under normal circumstances youâd be terrified of that sound in the dark, but knowing that heâs happy in his dreams has you brushing your son's hair out of his face, a fond smile pulling at your lips.
And your devastatingly handsome mate, looking so young while he sleeps, not a trace of stress lingering on his face in his slumber, whoeverâs nearest tucked close into his side. Even his shadows seem at peace, lingering lazily around the room, swirling like a mobile above a crib, dancing to a silent song. Azriel secretly loves when the boys sneak into your room, climbing up into your bed with the both of you. He adores having his family close, but he also canât get enough of you, worshiping you in bed like you deserve while his shadows stay posted by the door, on the lookout for tiny padding feet stumbling towards your room.
You close your eyes, a wide grin on your face. Yeah, this is going to be good.
__________
Zuzu is beautiful. Dark hair and bright eyes, you knew she had Azriel wrapped around her finger from the first cry she let out. He held her close, whispering all of the promises a girl could want from her father, and she had calmed after a while in his arms, his voice so familiar and comforting to her.
You watched with a fond look in your own eyes, tired beyond measure but wantingâneedingâto stay awake for this.
Wren and Baz were delighted beyond belief to have a little sister, racing into the room as soon as the door cracked, peering up over the edge of the bed, trying to catch a glimpse of her. The rest of the inner circle were there too, Rhysand scooping baby Baz into his arms as his older brother climbed up into the bed you were still resting in, Zuzu swaddled up and napping, tucked safely into your arms.
Azriel asked Wren if he wanted to hold his sister and the look in his wide eyes is something youâll never forget as he responds, still in awe of the tiny baby in your arms, âYes please.â
And itâs when sheâs a bit older, nearing her first year, that your mate collapses into the bed after tucking all of your babies into bed, an adoring grin on his face as he rests his chin on your chest, sprawling on top of you, that he asks for another.
âA fourth?â you ask gently, brushing his dark hair from his eyes. Theyâre shining with pride, a bit scared, maybe because he wants another child, afraid that it might not be something you want. Three were a handful, and three with wings were even worse, but still, he couldnât help it. Heâd waited all his life for this.
A faint blush dusts his cheeks and you stroke your thumb over it, heart swelling with endearment.Â
âI just think that it would be fun to have two of each,â he replies bashfully.
__________
But Jax is not a girl, oh no, heâs definitely a boy, and definitely Azriels.
Born too early and without a sound, your heart slammed in your chest as the healers took him from you, your mate torn if he should stay by your side or worry over the babe in Madjaâs arms across the room.
He didnât have to choose, as the newest member of your family let out a wail louder than any of his siblings before him. You released a sigh of relief, dropping your head back against your mate's shoulder who nuzzled his nose into your cheek, his breathing as shaky as you felt. His cry was a song to your ears, and you knew, without a shadow of a doubt that he would be following in his fatherâs footsteps. You and Azriel clutched each other tightly and then the babe when Madja handed him over to the two of you, new parents once more.
Azrielâs shadows took an immediate liking to the babe, with one slithering around him at all times no matter how hard the Shadowsinger tried to control it. Your son loved it, grabbing at the mist, a laugh bubbling from him as it skittered through his fingertips and tickled his skin.
Jax was fussier than your other children had been, as if he was constantly irritated by the day, only finding peace in the night. He babbled into the darkness, as if something was there, speaking back to him. It worried you sometimes, but Azriel was always there to reassure you that heâd be fine, you all would.
__________
Four was a handful, Jax nestled in your arms as you and your mate entered the River House. Azriel carried his little princess in his arms, rambling baby talk while pulling at his dark hair. Baz was wrapped around his fatherâs ankle, shrieking everytime his father took a step. Wrenâs hand was tucked into your free one, behaving like the good little boy he was, and you were so thankful of that fact any time the six of you had to make a trip somewhere.
Cassian halts at the sight of your family, grinning widely and letting out a loud laugh, already a half a glass of wine in. âThe legion is here,â he bellows and Azriel rolls his eyes beside you. His brother had taken to calling your family âthe legionâ when you had gone from a family of five to a family of six. He opens his arms for Wren who twists from your grasp and runs to him, shouting the Warlordâs name.
âUncle Cass, Uncle Cass, guess what?â Wren asks giddily, trying his best to cover his teeth with his lips.
Cassian brings a finger to his chin, making a show that heâs trying to think. âHmmm, did Bazzy finally beat you at a tickle fight?â he asks, catching Baz as he finally releases his fathers leg and races over to them.
Wrenâs nose wrinkles cutely, âNo way! Heâll never beat me at that.â
âThen Iâm all out of guesses, Wrenny,â Cassian replies. Your son is just about to tell him when his cousins yell out his name and he takes off, the adults completely ignored now that heâs spotted Nyx and Gideon.
âHey,â the Illrian general calls after him, a pout on his face, âI wanted to know what happened.â
__________
Looking around at each and every one of your friends and family gathered in the room on the night of Starfall, it was time. Wren, playing with Nyx and Gideon in the corner, the three of them not so subtly looking towards the dessert table every so often.Â
Baz, in Cassianâs lap as the Warlord tickles him, his glorious shrieks filling the room with as much warmth as the hearth, his mate perched next to him on the sofa, watching with tender eyes, a hand placed over her own swollen belly.
Zuzu, being fussed over by Mor and Elain while Amren holds her, looking both uncomfortable and amused at the same time. The blonde, trying to straighten the bow in the baby's dark hair while Elain tries to tuck lovely pink flowers behind her ears.
And Jax, silent as ever from where he sits content in Feyreâs grasp, the High Lady pouting to her mate next to her as he tries to ignore her pleas for a third child while he makes faces at the baby, trying to get the little one to make any sort of facial expression other than the stoic one he has at all times.
Everything is insanely perfect.
Azriel takes your hand gently in his, giving it a soft squeeze. You move your attention to him, eyes wet with the amount of love in the room. He nods to you.
âOh no,â Cassian groans, drawing everyoneâs attention. Heâs staring between you and Azriel, mouth parted in shock. âYouâre having another one, arenât you?â
And you canât help the grin tugging at the corners of your mouth at his words, the laugh bubbling from your throat.
âYeah,â your eyes shine, sharing an emotional look with Az, âWeâre having another one.â
Summary: You feel lonely because Azriel is being overworked and you never get to see him anymore. Confrontation occurs.
Warnings: None
Word Count: 2,649
_________________________________________
It wasnât supposed to end like this.Â
Why you thought you could have a normal conversation with your mate about taking a break every once in a while from his duty was beyond you. You knew that his job was important to him, to his High Lord, to the Night Court, but you were feeling that sense of longing and loneliness grow day by day, twining from your heart like a vine of sharp thorns, crawling down into the bond that seemed much more like a void these days.
A pit of emptiness where there used to be warmth and love and the two of you never wanted to be away from each other for even the slightest of seconds, always connected in some way whether it was a hand splayed across your lower back, your pinky finger latched around his, or his shadows caressing you. He was a constant.
You didnât know when it started to get like this. When his position had become more important than even something so simple as checking in on each other, a kiss to the cheek in passingâŚyou were almost positive he didnât even come to bed most nights, either falling asleep in his work or arriving after you fell asleep and leaving before you woke.Â
You thought that seeing him again would mend whatever had caused the two of you to drift apart, but instead it just hurts.
Finally, you had him where you wanted him. When you slinked into the study and shut the door tightly behind you, catching Azriel off guard. His head was buried deep in an endless stack of paper, eyes tired and shadows draped across the comfortable chair behind him, spilling lazily onto the floor. Seeing him like this, clearly overworked and underappreciated made your heart ache.
But Azriel wasnât the type to care. If someone needed him, heâd be there, no questions asked. If Rhyâs needed him to sort through the mass of paper in search of anything that could help, he wouldnât sleep until he finished the task. If Cassian needed a second to go with him to the Illyrian war camps or if Feyre needed a companion while she set off to do High Lady deeds, Azriel was there.
But what if you needed him just as much?
It was like the two of you were strangers, you standing awkwardly by the door, picking at your cuticles nervously while shifting your weight from one foot to the other. You felt like you were intruding, he made you feel like you were intruding with his quick glance up at you then returning right back to where he left off. Dismissive.
âHey,â you speak softly, staying in your spot far away from him, like a timid animal in the wake of its predator.
âHello.â His response is curt. Thereâs no inkling of relief that youâre there, like just your presence alone could make the situation better. You swallow against the tightness in your throat.
âHow are you Az?â you donât even know what to say. This was so unlike the two of you, not being able to find the words to say.
He sighed, closing his eyes for too long to be considered a blink. They burned with tiredness and it felt like sandpaper, the way his lids dragged against his eyes when he opened them.Â
âDid you actually need something or are you just coming in to bother me?â
Your heart stops for a moment, cheeks burning a blazing red as you furrow your eyebrows at him in confusion. Bother him? The two of you had barely even seen each other in weeks, how could you be a bother to him?
In a burst of fury and courage, your voice strains to keep calm, âYeah. Iâd like my mate back.â
His head snaps up, hazel eyes now wide and meeting your own. Heâs tired, you can tell, and when heâs this fatigued thereâs only three things youâve known him to do. The Shadowsingerâs first favorite thing to do when he was on edge or irritable was allow the ever-constant mass of shadows to shroud him, swallowing him whole and disappearing into that comforting caress of pure night.Â
Secondly, he would winnow up into the sky as high as he could manage, letting himself freefall, completely relaxing every aching muscle in his body for a moment and just being one with the wind, before he snapped his wings out, banking harshly, and soar the skies for hours.Â
And lastly, heâd seek out one of his brothers or another compatible opponent - though there werenât many who could last very long against him - to completely deplete the rest of his energy in the sparring ring. There was something about the familiar weight of weapons in his hands, blood on his fists that calmed him, made him actually want to sleep.
Lashing out verbally had never been his thing.
Azriel was usually all gentle words and soft caresses around you, not this agitated, brooding Illyrian, looking and acting much like the ones he hated with his entire being.
âI donât have time for this right now,â he scoffs, and even rolling his eyes is an effort, but he promised Rhysand heâd get this done, and he will.
âYou donât have time for me ever as of late,â you admit, crossing your arms over your chest as you will the familiar stinging in your eyes to stop. You will not let him see you cry over the way heâs acting.
Itâs not like you arenât capable of finding your own ways to occupy the time he works, itâs that you had heard so many amazing stories of what it was like to find your mate when you were young: that itâs like taking an extra breath that your lungs didnât know they could take or finally figuring out that feeling that was missing from your life, filled with the pure and unyielding love from your mate. You had dreamed of the day you found your own, chasing that feeling for years, and when you had met Azriel, you knew that feeling would go above and beyond what any story had said.
âI have a lot of things to do lately, (Y/N).â
âAnd I know that Az,â you yield one step closer, heart aching in your chest. All you want to do is go to him, wrap yourself around him and hold him tight, but you force yourself to stop. âBut you donât have to work this much. There are other people that are willing to help you, you know. I get that Rhys is High Lord, but you can say no.â
Your mate opens his mouth to speak, no doubt a foul retort to your sour words, but thankfully it is cut off by the large door to the study opening.
âHey Az, you ready toâoh, hello (Y/N).â
You canât force yourself to look at the High Lord, canât seem to look away from your mate who stands from his chair, stretching his arms over his head and shaking the sleepiness from his body. His bones creak with relief, finally moving from the positions theyâd been in for so long, hunched over the wooden desk.
âReady.â
The High Lord chooses to say nothing else. Anyone could feel the tension and anger in the room between the two of you. Azrielâs steps falter for a moment as if heâs going to veer off course from his beeline to the exit and come to you, but he decides not to, and youâre left blinking back tears as you stare at the chair heâd just been sitting in.
_________
Itâs Mor who finds you, sitting in the very seat your mate had left from hours ago, feet tucked up underneath you. It had been awhile since you forced the tears to stop, letting your anger wash over you instead, glaring at the papers before you. Youâd considered burning the damned things, and if it wouldnât get you into serious trouble with the High Lord you had no desire to speak with again, youâd do it in a heartbeat.
She pops her head inside, perfectly plucked eyebrows raised up at you and a cautious smile on her red painted lips. âThere you are.â
âHere I am,â you agree with a slight nod. Your voice is rough and monotonous, it doesn't even sound like your own.
âDo you want to come out with Feyre and I tonight? Weâre going to Ritas.â she asks. No âwhat are you doing here?â or âare you okay?â, skipping over the formalities and right to the point.
You wonder if Azriel or Rhys had sent her to keep you occupied and out of their way. You grind your teeth, fingers digging into the rich brown leather armrests, seething in your seat.Â
If they wanted you out of the way, oh you would get out of the way.
Letting your rigid body go lax, you push up from your seat, a wicked gleam in your eye, âAbsolutely.â
She returns your smirk with her own beaming smile, a knowing look in her eyes, âGreat! See you at eleven!â
___________
You spend the rest of the hours leading up to your night out pampering yourself. You take a long, soothing bath with your favorite scents added in, then take your time picking out the perfect outfit and setting it out on the bed for later. You even let the twin spies do up your hair and makeup, sneaking in mentions of what exactly youâll be up to tonight, knowing that they will relay the message to your mate.
Itâs just after youâve smoothed down your dress, the material made of the darkest of black velvet, giving yourself one last look in the mirror, chin held high. Azriel had had the dress made for you as a gift, the sort of gift he didnât want you wearing around anyone else besides him as it was a bit on the revealing side.
Naturally, because you had made sure your mate had caught wind of your plans for the evening, he arrived as you were turning towards the door.
He was covered in dirt and was that blood? You couldnât ignore feeling the pain in your chest but you could opt not to say anything about it. He seemed to be okay, other than the obvious lack of sleep. The Shadowsinger looked like he could collapse from utter exhaustion at any moment, but when his eyes grazed up and down your body his spine went stock straight, flaring his drooping wings behind him, and he growled softly.
âWhat is this?â he asks, his voice is darkness incarnate, smooth and lethal.
âIâm going out,â you reply simply, trying to match his tone. If he was going to speak to you that way, you would offer him the same treatment.
âNot in that youâre not.â
âThis?â you ask, fisting the fabric by your thighs and twirling around in a circle, your face painted a mask of fake shock, âI figure someone may as well enjoy it.â
And perhaps you shouldnât goad him into a fightâŚespecially when the bonded female side of you wants to clean him of his wounds and help him into bed. You are having none of that, forcing that urge away and reveling in the hurt instead.
His hands are clenched tightly at his sides and heâs nearly vibrating with anger. His cobalt siphons flare with his temper before he releases a practiced breath through his nose. âIâm sorry, is that what you want me to stay? Will that get you to stay?â
You bristle at his words. He doesnât want anything to do with you but he doesnât want anyone else to deal with you either? The man before you must clearly be delusional.
âNo. It will not get me to stay,â you bite back, stalking towards the door. You nearly make it too, before a cold tendril of shadow snakes around your wrist and pulls taught, halting your movements.Â
You stare down at it with an icy glare.Â
He wouldnât even touch you.
âNow you want something to do with me?â you spin on your heel, furious. Your mate nearly flinches at the look in your eyes. âNot when Iâve been needing you for the past, however longââ you wave your hand, frustrated because you canât even think about how long this has been going on between the two of you. âBecause youâre Rhysands puppet, right?â
âHe is my High Lord, and yours too for that matter. We shall respect his requests.â
âHeâs a dickhead who sends his friends to do his dirty work, and for what?â You seethe, âHeâs the most powerful High Lord in Prythian but he doesnât use his powers to his advantage, the fuck is the point of that?â
Azrielâs balled hands relax, flexing his fingers in and out of fists like he can barely restrain himself from strangling you. But the words are already out of your mouth.Â
âHe has a family to think about.â
âAnd you donât?â You cry, exasperated.
The Shadowsingerâs response is silence and your heart burns in your chest.
âYou donât think of me as your family?â Your voice is quiet but the tremor is clear. You hug your arms tightly across your chest, staring at your mate patiently.
âFamily doesnât treat each other the way you are.â
âFamily doesnât treat each other the way Rhysand treats you either, Az, or the way you treat me for that fact. Wake up.â You laugh wetly, trying to blink back the tears threatening to spill over. You donât want him to see you cry, donât want your friends to ask about your smudged makeup after you storm out of the room.Â
Your attempts are futile. Heâs been a faithful servant to the Night Court for as long as he can remember. Finding his mate wouldnât change that.
Itâs not like you were even asking for a lot. All you wanted was for him to spend a little more time with you. Surely Rhysand could understand that. Maybe you werenât enough for Azriel. The thought swarmed your mind. Was he working so much to avoid you completely?
âFamily doesnât get sent on suicide missions,â you say, swallowing past the thickness in your throat. You need to leave, you know you need to leave. This is not the two of you. This is not who you want you and your mate to be. You canât sit by any longer and watch your mate work himself to death and treat you like this. It isnât fair to either of you.
âWhere are you going?â His voice is gruff, demanding, his own throat raw with emotion.Â
You shrug, turning away from him. Ignoring his question, instead you answer, âI canât stand by and watch you do this to yourself anymore. Not when you donât care what itâs doing to the both of us.â
âI have to do this (Y/N). Itâs my duty to serve this court.â And maybe you do hear that pang of fear in his voice, almost a hysterical tinge, the strike you feel in your own body as it reflects the emotion coming from your mate. But itâs too late now.
You allow yourself one last look at him over your shoulder, your hand resting on the brass knob again. Heâs only moved a single step closer to you, his shadows coiled tightly around him like theyâre trying to comfort him. His hazel eyes are the widest youâve seen as of late, pried open with the fear of losing you. He stares into yours, almost begging you not to go. If he said it out loud you would, but he doesnât. Heâs too prideful, too out of touch with his emotions, too scared to say anything to Rhys.
Summary: Anonymous request: Your blog is amazing!! I was thinking about how protective males are when their mate is pregnant and I was wondering what Az would be like if his mate and fellow spy was captured when spying on another court while pregnant? Or maybe another court took her further on in her pregnancy for leverage on the inner circle? Like what would his reaction be when he found out and the inner circle started looking for you, only to find you a little injured. I love protective badass Az who is a softy for his mate.
Warnings: N/A
Word Count: 3,448
_________________________________________
You knew you shouldn't have gone. You should have just told Rhys that you were feeling unwell and you couldnât make the meeting. Or you could have just told them the truth.
Laying in your bed this morning with a numb mind, staring at the rays of sun dancing across the ceiling as the sun rose. Placing your hands over your stomach, you thought of what you would do, how you would tell him. You longed for the empty spot next to you to be filled with the warm body of your mate, holding you tightly to him in his sleep, his face restful and calm.
He was away for nearly two weeks now, deep into the land of Rask on a mission from Rhys. It had been fine at first, as you were used to him being sent away for such things all of the time, but this morning, a new scent filling the air of your bedroom, sweet and supple, you wished he was here with you.
You and your mate had talked about children before and you knew that someday he would like a family of his own, but both of you were in the height of your careers working for Rhysand and you decided that it wasnât the right time for either of you.
Sighing, you climbed out of your bed, choosing to push the worried thoughts from your mind. You had your own assignment to get ready for, one that you begged the High Lord to give you, not being able to sit around any longer without your mate.
Your movements were mechanical, shoving your legs into your pants, strapping on your armor, lacing up your boots, easy tasks that didnât take much thought. You refused to look at yourself in the mirror as you did your hair, not wanting to face your problems head-on.Â
You were thankful for the fact that you were alone at the house. No one else was around to pick up on your new scent or the way you were acting differently. Of course Az had tried to get you to stay over at the River House while he was gone and you assured him you would if you were feeling lonely, but the thought of getting to relax and take time for yourself was excitingâŚuntil your mate had been gone for longer than the three days youâd discussed.
âYouâre late,â a familiar voice sounds when you make it to the bottom of the steps. Itâs not the Illyrian you wanted to be here, but the one you were attending your mission with.
âSorry,â you mumble, sliding into your seat at the table as far away as you could manage. Cassian quirked an eyebrow at you before returning to his own breakfast. You were nervous, he could probably tell, but you busied yourself with the breakfast sitting in front of you, forcing yourself to swallow it down even though every bite was like sludge in your mouth and sat heavy in your stomach.Â
âYou ready?â The warlord looked you up and down as you neared, his eyes widening in realization when he caught on to your scent. He opened his mouth to speak but his protest was cut off when you grabbed onto him and winnowed the both of you to the border of the Autumn Court.Â
Unsurprisingly there were Autumn Court soldiers waiting for you when you arrived. You swallowed thickly, Cassian's glare burning a hole into the side of your head as the guards escorted you to the High Lordâs estate. You could feel your friend's anger as he walked slightly angled in front of you, keeping the attention on himself. He knew that Azriel would have his ass if something happened to you or the unborn child he knew nothing about.
As soon as the two of you were led into the throne room where the High Lord and the rest of his kin sat, eyes gleaming with mischief at your scent, you knew this meeting wasnât going to end well.
Berons grin was wicked with delight as he greeted you and Cassian. âWelcome back to the Autumn Court. I had thought that this meeting was going to be with the two of you since Rhysand canât be bothered to remove himself from his High Ladyâs leash,â the red siphons glimmered next to you, âBut it seems youâve brought a third.â
You kept a firm grip on the knives at your belt even though your hands itched to hold your stomach protectively, the hair standing on the back of your neck. You wondered what they would do now. The meeting was supposed to be simple, talking about alliances, why would you being pregnant change that?
Unless they had ulterior motives from the start.
âWeâre here to talk about uniting yourself with the Night Court,â Cassian says casually, but you can hear the underlying threat as clear as day, âWhen the next war comes, donât you want to be on the winning side from the start, Beron?âÂ
Two of his sons exchange smug looks that make your skin crawl.
âOh, did you not know your little friend is carrying?â the High Lord of Autumn taunts. Your cheeks burn bright.Â
âThe bastard probably canât even smell it,â one of the sons sneers while another snickers.
âShe probably doesnât know which one it belongs to,â Eris adds, âWith how they share their women over there.â
The Warlord growls deeply in his throat, baring his teeth. His grip is deathly tight around the hilt of his sword and you know heâs getting closer to letting his plan of being cordial to hell and instead cut them down one by one.
âStop, Cass,â you plead, placing a gentle hand on his forearm. His brows furrow as he looks down at you but the request in your eyes has him backing down, shoulders still tight with rage.
Beron watches with mischievous eyes how you calm the Illyrian. âIâve been trying to set up a meeting with Rhysand himself,â the High Lord ignores Cassian's statement, eyes moving to look over you, fire burning within them, âNow that we have something he wants, he may finally come.âÂ
With a nod of his hand you and Cassian are surrounded, armed guards pointing their weapons at you. You and the Warlord immediately move into fighting positions, back to back. Assessing the situation, you know that the male at your back would be willing to fight his way out, and you would too, but with a baby inside of you, the both of you needed to think more rationally.
âLet her go and she will fetch Rhysand,â is what Cassian replies. Youâre about to protest but the look he shoots you over his shoulder says enough.
âI think he will come on his own time when his beloved Warlord and the mate to the Shadowsinger donât return,â he replies, and your stomach twists in fear. âThen we will talk.â
It turns out that you and Cassian would be staying in your own suite, enchanted so only Autumn soldiers could get in and out. You hadnât been expecting this when the High Lord demanded that you be locked up, instead thinking you were going to be put up in some prison underneath the orchards or something, but thisâŚthis was actually nice?Â
Maybe they did just want to talk to Rhysand.
Or they were scared of what your mate might do if he knew you had been treated badly while you were trapped here.
You were wondering about your mate when they escorted the two of you through the palace after disarming you. Did he notice the fear tingling down the bond between the two of you? You hadnât the slightest idea of when he was getting back from his mission, but you knew Rhysand would be finding out you and Cassian were trapped here when he didnât hear from either of you in a timely manner.Â
Your thoughts were interrupted by your friend, stalking close to you, his hazel eyes filled with anger.
âWhy didnât you fucking tell someone,â he growls at you. His hands flex at his sides like he wants to shake you, strangle you for your stupidity. He was right, you should have said something, but facing this revelation on your own and Az being gone, you werenât sure how to approach the situation.Â
You hadnât even come to terms with it really. What would Azriel even think?
You sigh, breaking eye contact with your friend, âIââ
âDo you know how dangerous this is? What the fuck were you thinking?â he rants, turning away from you and pacing across the light wood floors, his boots thudding heavily with each step he takes, his siphons flickering with rage.
âI wasnât,â you admit, looking down and toeing at the burgundy rug in front of you. Your eyes well with tears, everything finally catching up to you now. Would Azriel even be happy about this? Would he request that you terminate it or just up and leave you? You had no idea how he was going to react to all of this. He lived a dangerous life and you knew that, knew that before you even accepted the bond, but bringing a babe into this was something else completely.
âDamn right you werenât! All you think about isââ seeing the crumpled look on your face, his footsteps still for a moment before heâs racing over to you and pulling you tightly into his arms as you break.Â
âHe doesnât even know Cass,â you whimper, hugging the Illyrian as tightly as you can manage. âWhat the fuck am I going to do?âÂ
Your friend rubs your back soothingly, holding you just as close, âWell heâs going to find out as soon as he bursts in here to save our asses,â he pokes you in the side, trying to cheer you up.Â
You try to smile but you canât, too worried about your mate. âWhat if he doesnât want it?â you blurt the fear thatâs been on your mind since you found out.Â
Cassian pulls away and looks at you like youâve grown two heads, âAre you kidding me? You canât be serious (Y/N). Az has wanted babies since the two of you officially mated.â
Your mouth drops open in shock, tears stopping, instead furrowing your eyebrows, âWhat?â
âDonât tell me you donât know Az is a huge softie,â the Illyrian pulls back, rolling his eyes, a loving smile on his face. âHe wonât say that he wants them because he thinks he owes his life to Rhysand, but he really wants them.â
âTham as in multiple?â Your heart is pounding in your chest, stomach fluttering with excitement at the fact that his brother is telling you how much your mate has stressed to the other Illyrian that he wants children.
âA whole bunch probably,â Cassian shrugs, walking deeper into the suite with you on his heels. He glances over his shoulder at you, eyes softening, âBut heâll be happy no matter what, as long as he has you.â
âHe does love me, doesnât he?â you say smugly, biting back a smile as you think about your handsome mate. Maybe you were worrying for nothing. Surely Cassian wouldnât lie to you.
âYeah, he absolutely does,â the Warlord grins.Â
__________
Itâs pretty boring, being locked up in the Autumn Court.Â
The room is spacious and the view from the windows of the apple orchard is breathtaking, but not as beautiful as the view from your own home of the big rocky mountains and the bustling city below.
You and Cassian spend the time chatting in the lounge. You hadnât seen him in nearly two weeks, of course the Illyrian would have a new story to tell you.Â
âAnd then she was like, âCassian, I swear to the mother if you touch that again, Iâllâââ the door opening has the both of you rushing to your feet. You make a move for your blade on instinct, but itâs been taken. You see your friend do the same.
Itâs the son that youâre second most familiar with, Eris, followed by two handmaidens with platters of food.Â
Cassianâs eyebrows furrow, looking suspiciously at them as they lay the spread out on the table in front of the large windows. He moves in front of you on instinct and you step to the side slightly, keeping your eyes locked on the High Lordâs son.
âWe do treat ladies with respect, you know, unlike the ilk in your lands.â Eris comments, hands clasped behind his back, chin held high. You want to roll your eyes at the auburn haired male, Cassian definitely does, but you are hungry. You chose to give him a nod in thanks.
âTell that to your father then, asshole,â Cassian says bluntly and you cringe, a sharp clang of cutlery falling from one of the handmaidenâs hands onto the table. She squeaks, ashamed, as they finish setting up the table before making a beeline for the door, eyes cast downwards to the floor.
Erisâs eyes flash with fire and you wince.Â
âYour Spymasterâs been slinking around the Autumn Court, looking for you no doubt,â he comments cockily, âHeâs not as sneaky as he might think.â
You and Cassian share a knowing look that to Eris, might seem concerned, but between the two of you, it means that Azriel is angrier than ever and heâs not trying to hide in his shadows. No, he wants the entire court to know that heâs here to wreak havoc.Â
That, and the fact that heâd been away from you for so long meant that the Autumn Courtâs plan failed and they donât stand a chance. If they wanted to walk out of this with no casualties, they had surely locked up the wrong person.Â
Your mate was most likely in a frenzy of shadows and worry, if what was faintly coming through the bond was anything to go by. You had sensed the spike of fear that had gone through him when he figured out you were gone, the anger burning slightly in your chest as he undoubtedly ripped into Rhysand for letting you go.
You had tried to send out reassurance to your mate, but he was too worked up to accept that you were telling him you were okay. He needed to see it for himself.Â
But the wave of warm anger flowing to you through that bond was getting stronger and stronger by the minute, and you knew your mate was going to have a field day.
âTry and stop him if you want,â you replied just as casually, crossing your arms over your chest, âBut donât think that he wouldnât kill a thousand soldiers, ten thousand soldiers, to get to me.â
Eris seemed to consider your words, think about who he was actually dealing with. If he had captured the Warlord and the Shadowsingerâs mate, heâd have to deal with their furious counterparts, the High Lord of the Night Court and his Spymaster.
He swallowed hard, whistling over his shoulder for the cavalry stationed outside of your doors, âLetâs go.â
You and Cassian were escorted once again to the throne room where the rest of the residing Vanserra family were gathered to wait for Rhysand. The air was tense with anticipation and you swore the stench of their fear burnt your nostrils. Cassian stuck by your side, ever the faithful friend. You were thankful for him, that he had come with you despite your stupid decision to go on this assignment, protecting both you and the babe inside of you.Â
You donât know what would have transpired if you had been alone, but you didnât even have time to delve into that mystery as the doors to the room were thrown open. Shadows skittered along the walls in a frenzy, masking over every inch of the room. They covered the windows, blocking the orange glow from the descending sun, casting the room into night as Rhysand and his Shadowsinger appeared, fury rippling from them both.Â
âSurely you could think of a better way to get me here than this?â the High Lord of the Night Courtâs eyes flickered across the both of you, both you and Cassian giving him the mental note that you were both unharmed. âAnd keeping an expecting female, no less,â he comments cooly, catching a whiff of your scent and Azriel freezes behind him, âThatâs low even for you, Beron.â
You twist your fingers together tightly, watching your mate closely. Your stomach knots with anticipation, waiting for his reaction. His shadows seem to thicken, and you squint at the loss of light, trying to see him.
âThey are unharmed,â the High Lord of Autumn replies, his tone higher than before. âYou and I have things to discuss.â
âAh, youâll have to forgive me Beron, my schedule is pretty full right now. Iâll see to it that you are penciled in when I have a spare moment. But for now, Iâll be collecting my colleagues and leaving.â
One of his stupider sons catches you around the shoulders, a surprised noise released from you as he rests his knife across your throat. Cassian tries to grab you but the sharp tip of the blade in his poorly trained hand knicks your skin as you swallow, the bead of blood rolling slowly down the column of your neck, all eyes locked on the red liquid. Everyone in the room freezes alongside your mate who looks like he can barely contain his anger.Â
âYou will do as my father says,â his voice tremors, his grip on you trembling, âOr she gets it.â
âBeron, I suggest you get your son's filthy hands off of her, if you do not wish to lose another of your offspring tonight.â Rhysands threat does not go unheard, the Autumn High Lord demanding you to be let go. You can sense the sonâs hesitation, then his humiliation. He will surely be punished by the hand of the High Lord for this.
He shoves you harshly into the arms of an awaiting Cassian who helps steady you before putting himself between the two of you, walking you backwards towards your friends while keeping a watchful eye on the Vanserraâs.
Your mate's shadows curl around your ankles comfortingly. You dare a glance back at him but heâs standing stock straight, blades unsheathed and sitting threateningly in his cobalt siphoned fists. He doesnât look at you, although you know he wants to, but he has a job to do, a facade to keep up with, and when you both get back home he will be the Azriel you missed so much.
You let him know that youâre okay down the bond, seeing his shoulders relax just the slightest bit when the feeling is returned.Â
âRhysandââ
Beronâs retort is cut off by the High Lord himself, âDonât think that you can threaten someone of my court and I would brush it off Beron.â Rhysand dismisses you and the Illyrians, Azriel appearing next to you and clutching you close to his chest as his shadows sweep you into mist and darkness.
âIâm fine,â you breathe as Azrielâs fingers roam your body frantically for wounds as soon as youâve returned safely, âWeâre okay.â His hands still and he looks up at you with those big hazel eyes you love so much.
âHowâWhenââ
âThis morning,â you admit, placing your hands over his and guiding them to your stomach. You grin softly up at him, âAnd I think you know how.â
His mouth quirks up at the side, and he shakes his head fondly, âIndeed I do.â
âDo youâŚdo you want to do this? With me?â Playing with your fingers nervously, not meeting your mates eyes, scared about telling Azriel.
He places a warm hand under your chin, lifting your head so youâre looking up into his eyes. Theyâre filled with nothing but the love and admiration that youâve been missing. Itâs like he canât help himself as he dives in capturing you in a breathtaking kiss, his lips firm against yours. Heâs longed for this, thinking about you every moment he was gone, yearning for his other half.Â
You wrap your arms around his neck, burying your fingers into his dark hair. His tongue flicks against your lips and yours part automatically for him, hungry for more.Â
âAwe come on, you knew we were right behind you,â Cassian complains as he appears with Rhysand a moment later. Azriel pulls away with a breathy laugh, resting his forehead against yours.Â
âIâve wanted to do this with you since the moment I saw you, Darling.â
