#daddyaz

“Love, you can’t even pick up the towel,” he argues, sliding around the counter to pluck it from the ground. You sigh, setting your hip on the counter, but it does little to ease your muscles. What you really want to do is sit down and not get up until the babe arrives.

“I don’t need to pick it up,” you argue. “I was just doing it to be nice since I know how tidy you like the house.”

Azriel raises a brow. “So you didn’t need it for anything?”

“No.”

“And what would you have done with it if I weren’t here?” he teases. “Left it on the floor?”

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I could’ve just gotten a new one from the linen closet.”

“That,” Azriel steps in front of you, swooping down to peck a soft kiss to your lips. You melt into him immediately, falling into his warm embrace. His hands come to the base of your spine to knead at the tight muscles there and you sigh in pleasure. Those shadows must have told him about your tender back. They can be useful, sometimes. “Sounds like it would’ve been a good idea.”

You hum in response, lost to your mate’s touch. He’s a godsend, this one. The cauldron picked perfectly. “I still don’t need a babysitter.”

“I know,” Azriel soothes. “It will make me feel better about leaving you though, love. I don’t want to worry about you while I’m gone.”

You don’t want that, either. Don’t want him distracted while he’s on a mission.

“Okay,” you give in when he kneads against a particularly tight knot in your spine. Gods, those hands…you could take him right to bed, maybe even convince your mate to give you a full body massage instead. Yes, that would be nice. “Cassian can stay.”

You refuse to move to the House of Wind. You’d rather be comfortable in your own home, especially since you’ve just begun nesting. Hence, the towel on the floor. Weirdly enough, you wanted that very piece for part of your nest because of all of the times you’ve seen it in Azriel’s hands, twisting it aimlessly between his fingers while conversing while he cooks, thrown over his shoulder while he slices and dices fruits and vegetables. Strange, but you haven’t stopped thinking about it since you felt the urge to collect objects from around your home to comfort yourself with.

So, if Azriel wants you to have a babysitter while he’s gone, the babysitter can join you here.

“Cassian’s going to have the best time rubbing my feet and making me breakfast,” you smile, thinking of all of the things you know you can get your mates best friend to do for you. You know he’ll do it without compliant, because he’s secretly trying to get you to name your first born after him.

Not happening.

“Give him hell, love.”

Basil:

“He wants cake, the baby wants cake,” you defend, stuffing another bite of cake into your mouth. “The baby wants the cake.”

Azriel huffs a laugh, more than amused at your sweet tooth during your second pregnancy. It’s been difficult to get you to eat anything that isn’t coated in chocolate or pumped full of sugar.

Wren, nearing a year old, giggles in his father’s lap. He reaches his hand across the table to your plate, eager to share in the sugary goodness. You lick the icing from your lips and scoot your plate closer to his grabby hands, more than happy to share your treat with your son.

You’re surprised your mate, who has an insane sweet tooth of his own, isn’t getting in on this cake. It’s delicious, the icing creamy and fluffy. The cake is moist, and the moan you let out when you bit into it was almost one you’d be embarrassed about, if you were paying attention to anything other than the dessert.

He’s been letting you eat your fill before even attempting a bite, more so because only a few weeks ago, he’d eaten the last macron, the one you’d been saving for a midnight snack. This babe did not want you to sleep, kicking and squirming inside of you nonstop, more than eager to meet the world. You’d burst into a fit of tears when you noticed your treat was gone, and couldn’t reign in your emotions until Azriel had come home with more than half of the pastries in the case from your favorite shop. Elain even threw in some of her freshly baked pastries after hearing what happened, and you almost lost yourself to another fit of tears at how nice that was of her.

“We’re supposed to be choosing a cake for Wren’s first birthday,” Azriel reminds you gently. Then, teasingly, he says, “Have you even actually tasted the cake with how quickly you’re eating, love?”

You peg him with a look, swallowing down the bite of cake in your mouth. He’s right, this is about Wren, not the baby inside of you who only seems to wiggle around more with a sugar high.

It’s difficult to place the fork down in front of you, but somehow, you manage. You turn toward your son, who hasn’t seemed to notice the way you’d been sampling all of the cakes in front of you. By sampling, you mean inhaling. You’d been inhaling the cake samples in front of you. All seven flavors.  

“Wrenny,” you ask the boy currently mashing a bite of cake onto a napkin. He’s enthralled in the texture, and doesn’t even notice your grimace at the ruined treat.

Azriel slips his hand into yours in comfort.

“What kind of cake do you want for your birthday, baby?” You ask, grabbing a fresh napkin to help him clean up. He protests with a shout, squirming on his father’s lap. Azriel tries his best to soothe the boy, but you’ve disturbed his playtime, and you’re going to pay.

“Come on, buddy,” Azriel smooths the furrow between Wren’s brows. You sit back in your seat, smoothing your hands across your stomach when your son kicks close to your bladder. It’s only a matter of time before he hits his mark, and then your day out at the Rainbow with your mate and son will be over. “Which one do you like best?”

Wren stares at the cakes. Some more gone than others. He reaches for a red cake that’s almost entirely full. You liked that one, but it wasn’t better than the chocolate slice with chocolate frosting. That one only has a small bite left.

Your son grabs a handful of the cake and flings his arms around in excitement. You plant a hand over your mouth as the cake goes flying, only to land in Azriel’s hair. Your shoulders shake with laugher, tears welling in your eyes at the look on your mates face.

Azriel’s grin is blinding. He laughs freely, something he might not have been comfortable doing in public years ago. This, this is all he’s ever wanted. You. A family. A life.

You help your mate rid the cake form his dark locks as much as you can. Frosting sticks to the strands, pulling them this way and that. You swipe at a glob of icing that made its way above his lip, and he stares at you with simmering eyes. The kind of eyes that got you into this situation in the first place. He’s going to need a shower when he gets home, and, if you can put Wren down for a nap, maybe you can join him, too.

When you’ve successfully cleaned as much of Azriel as you can, he plops your son down into your lap and shoves the pile of napkins closer to you before standing.

“Where are you going?” you ask as Wren reaches out for his father. You snag a napkin and his chubby arm, beginning to clean him up.

“I’m going to tip the staff for the mess we made,” he says easily. His eyes are sparkling with amusement and something more, something you can’t wait to get home to. “And I’m going to buy a chocolate cake to bring home with us, since you liked it so much.” He nods to the nearly gone slice on the table, and your heart swells in your chest. You love him so, so much.

Zuzu:

“It’s a girl?” he whispers, voice raw with emotion. Tears flood your eyes at the utter awe in your mate’s eyes. Of course, she has her father wrapped around her finger already.

Azriel places his hands across your stomach. He’s kneeling in front of you, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so vulnerable, not even when he admitted he loved you for the first time, nor when you gave birth to your first and second child. But this little girl growing inside of you, she’s unlocked something special inside of Azriel, and you know that in this moment, that she’s going to have the most loving, protective father there is. And you’re sure her brothers won’t be far behind with that mentality.

She’s the first female born into one of the Inner Circle’s families. Four boys, but not a single girl. And now, everything has changed. You know she is going to be surrounded by so much love, she’s going to be so spoiled. You’ve had conversations with Feyre and Nesta, Elain too, about how cute the female toys and clothing were in the shops lining the Sidra. They all begged you to have a girl when you announced your third pregnancy, placing bets with their mates on whether or not you’d bring a little girl into the family, and their pleading has all paid off.

You can’t wait to tell them.

Azriel kisses across your stomach. You thread your fingers through his hair, allowing him this time with his daughter. It’s sweet, more than, to see him like this. He’s so in love with her already, you can see it in the way his wings wiggle with excitement, the way his thumbs stroke the soft skin where his daughter is growing inside of you.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers, finally raising his gaze to look at you. He doesn’t move away, instead resting his chin on your stomach. “We’re having a girl.”

You can’t help your smile, a tear escaping your eye. He’s wanted a daughter for just as long as you have, and you promised not to stop having children until you had a girl, but soon, with two boys and one girl, you don’t think you’ll stop until this little one has a sister to play with as well.

You can see the same sentiment in your mates eyes.

“We’re having a girl,” you agree, lifting his chin so you can kiss your mate.

Jax:

“Azriel,” you squeeze your eyes shut through the uncomfortableness of a contraction. Your mate’s hand is strong on your lower back, his other arm gripped tightly in your grasp. “I love you, but are you sure you’ve thought this through?”

“Easy,” Azriel replies gently. His touch is soft but firm as he helps you to your bed. It’s set up with all of the essentials for giving birth, and with this being your fourth child, you’re more than prepared. The little one has been a fairly easy pregnancy, as if each moment spent in your womb was better than the last. He wasn’t eager to meet the world like his older brother, Baz, who kicked you relentlessly for nine months straight. It was almost as if the babe inside of you enjoyed the comfort you provided, but his father and siblings are more than excited to meet the new member of the family.

Your water broke this morning over breakfast with your family. Baz had burst into a fit of giggles over his waffles, pointing and shouting about how you’d peed your pants. Wren, your oldest, perked with excitement, knowing exactly what that meant. He’s slipped from his chair, offering you a tight hug before scampering to his room with his little brother in tow, talking all about how they were going to get to see their cousins while you had another baby.

Zuzu, just one, was covered in whipped cream, giggling and gurgling and making a mess with the sweet cream. You had torn Azriel’s attention from where he bopped a bit of cream onto her nose, and, after a quick once-over, worry lacing his hazel eyes, his face melted into something sweet when he caught your smile, the happy tears in your eyes.

Your son couldn’t choose a more perfect day to enter the world.

“What do you mean?” Azriel asks, pulling back the covers. He’d be latched to your side until the babe entered the world, whenever that may be. Could be nearly an entire day, like Wren, or mere hours, like Baz and Zuzu.

“You’re talking about letting the male who gifted Baz a real blade for Starfall when he was only 3, watch our boys for the night.” You had agreed to the plan at first because you didn’t think Cassian was all that serious about it, but now that it’s really happening, you can’t help but worry.

“Cassian wants this more than anything, love,” Az replies, helping organize the pillows behind your back. When all is to his liking, he sits on the edge of the bed, caressing your face. His hazel eyes are soft, a comfort that you lean into, or as much as you can with your belly in the way. “He’ll be fine. Rhys and Nyx are going to be there too,” he reassures. And well, that doesn’t make you feel that much better. Rhys and Cassian and four children under 6. They’re in for a night. “And Zuz is getting all loved up by her aunties tonight.” Your daughter is spending the night at Feyre’s with her sisters, and you know that if anything, Rhys will have no problem calling in backup for the mischievous little boys.

“You’ll check in on them ever hour?” You ask, trying your best to get comfortable. The babe in your stomach gives a little kick, and you place your hand on your stomach, whispering down to him. “Soon, little guy, soon you’ll meet the world.”

“I’ll check on them every ten minutes if you want me to,” Azriel promises, placing his large hand over yours. Like the babe knows you and your mate are showing him affection, he kicks again. “But I don’t want you to worry. You need to focus on getting little Jax out.” He says the babes name like it’s the best he’s ever heard. He’s done that with all of your children, though. It fills you with warmth, his strong presence eases you into the comfort of your bed.

Malos and Knox:

“A sister!” Zuzu screeches in her uncle’s arms. You wince at the sheer volume of your four-year-old daughter, but you won’t scold her even through one of the hours old newborns in your arms squirms at the sound. She can’t help her excitement at the sight of her little sister, kicking out her tiny legs in demand to be released from Rhys’ clutches. He laughs and tries to situate Zuzu better in his arms. He looks to you for action, and with a soft nod of your head, he lets your daughter down.

Azriel, who has just handed Knox off to Feyre, who has tears in her eyes, quickly catches his oldest daughter around the waist before she can launch herself onto your bed and disturb the snoozing babe.

“Daddy,” Zuzu whines, but clings tightly to his shirt. Azriel immediately smooths her hair back from her face, disheveled from playing with her brothers all morning at her uncle’s house while you gave birth to the two newest members of your family. “I want to see my sissy!”

“Sissy’s sleeping,” he parent’s gently, bringing her closer. He sets Zuzu on the bed but stays close. “You need to be gentle, Zuz. She’s brand new.”

“Brand new,” Zuzu echoes, but you’re not entirely sure she knows what it means. She’s completely distracted by the small bundle in your arms anyway, her dark eyes glowing with delight. She looks up at you, wide-eyed, and you can’t help but smile at your daughter. “She’s mine?”

“She’s your sister,” you laugh softly. You position Malos in your arms so Zuzu can see better.

“Wow,” she whispers, awe in her tone. She softly reaches out and brushes a finger across her sister’s chubby cheeks. The babe makes a noise and Zuzu snatches her hand back to her chest.

“It’s okay, Zuz,” Azriel says gently. “She’s just saying hello.”

Zuzu nods at her father eagerly, then returns her attention to Malos. “Hello, little baby. I’m Zuz. I’m going to be the bestest big sister ever! I’m going to teach you so much, and nothing like our naughty brothers can show you…” She babbles while you share a loving look with your mate.

You were worried how Zuzu might react to a sister. She’s been surrounded by boys for four years, and right now, you can see that this is something special, something pure between the two girls.

“What are their names?” Feyre asks, placing Knox carefully in your arms while your sons join you and the rest of your family on the bed. Jax climbs directly into Azriel’s lap, clinging to him like a monkey. He peers down at the babes in your arms with curiosity.

Wren and Baz settle on your other side, leaning over to see both of the babes. They look just as excited as the rest of your family, and this moment right now, surrounded by your family and the people you love the most, makes everything worthwhile.

You smile at your mate, who gives you a soft nod of encouragement.

Oh, you were insatiable, sweetheart, your mate purrs in your mind. You can feel the smugness radiating off of him not only from the bond tethering you, but from where he stands, five feet away and shrouded in darkness. And I loved every moment of it. You did too, of course.

You shut your eyes for a long second so your oldest son doesn’t catch you rolling them. I would love for you to remind me of just how much I loved it, mate, you send back, letting your frustrated desperation cling to your words, if we can ever seem to find the time.

Last week, Zuzu refused to go to Feyre’s painting class even though all of the other cousins were going in for a private session the High Lady had set up specifically so that you and your mate could spend the night alone together. She spent the entire time latched to Azriel’s leg and crying her little eyes out until the both of you gave in and let your daughter stay home. Your only saving grace that night was getting to lounge on the couch with a good book—that really only made you hornier for your mate—whilst Azriel and Zuzu baked cookies in the kitchen and hand delivered them to you with a large glass of milk.

A few days ago, it was Baz who had trouble sleeping and came pounding at your door while your mate was three fingers deep into your sopping cunt. The both of you had hastily gotten dressed, grumbling the entire time you did so, and let your second oldest son into the room. Azriel swiftly avoided Baz’s questioning about why your door had been locked in the first place, and the both of you watched him crawl up onto your bed and settle in the center of the tangled sheets, looking at the both of you expectantly. Baz talked your ears off all night long. 

And it was only last night when Jax who couldn’t be consoled when he couldn’t find his stuffed Suriel for bedtime. Azriel spent an hour scouring your house for the toy while you held Jax close, trying to keep your own emotions calm and serene instead of the frustration you wanted to give into, lest your son pick up on them and dampen his mood further. Even with his keen spymaster abilities and the shadows he’d released to help the cause, Azriel came up empty.

With four young children and twins on the way, it seemed as though they always knew the perfect time to interrupt you and your mate every time you tried to get close to each other. 

Wren frowns, his head falling back on his shoulders as he stares up at you with those hazel eyes that are a gift from his father. They’re pleading, and he really wants to have that sleepover with Gideon and Nyx, but you’ve never been a sucker for those pleading looks. If Wren thinks that huffing and puffing and making sad faces is going to change your mind, he came to the wrong parent.

Especially since he’s interrupted your fun as well.

You tap your foot, waiting your son out. He stares, and you stare back. You even cross your arms over your chest, resting them over the swollenness of your stomach, nearly two-thirds of the way through your pregnancy.

Your body goes taut at the feeling that Azriel lets zip down the bond. It’s one of complete arousal, his obsession with you when you make that stern face. 

It takes all of your willpower not to shift on your feet with the rush of wetness that accompanies the feeling of heat rushing through your veins. Not to clench your thighs together or glance over to where your mate stands, probably staring at you with his hazel eyes, filled with need.

Not that you’d be able to see him in the darkness anyway.

Wren’s pleading draws your attention away from your desires and back to the matter at hand.

“Please, mom!”

Clearing your throat so that it doesn’t falter when you speak, you answer. “You may have a sleepover with Nyx and Gideon tomorrow night if you're a good boy tonight. And that means playing with your siblings for a few minutes until I come to take Jax and Zuz for their baths.”

You’re pretty sure you lost your eldest son when you agreed to the sleepover, and you nearly stumble when he throws himself at you, hugging you tight. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Wren screeches with excitement, and your heart grows when he places a fleeting kiss to your stomach and bolts from the room. You can hear him tearing down the halls to where Baz is loudly making the toys in the living room speak. 

“Sweetheart, are you crying?” Azriel’s voice startles you. No longer is he hiding in the shadows, but at your side, swiping a calloused thumb across your cheek, swiping away the wetness.

“He’s just so sweet,” you gush, leaning into your mate’s arms. You press your ear to his chest, listening to the steady and strong thumping of his heart. You love this man and everything that you’ve built together. Through all of the missions and worrying, to building a home and family together, you truly are grateful for the life that you live.

“You know what else is sweet?” Azriel says, his suggestive whisper caressing the shell of your ear. It causes you to shiver, fingers curling into his shirt as he pulls you closer, lifting you easily into his arms.

“What?” you answer breathlessly, already losing yourself to your mate’s touch again. Namely, his thick cock brushing against your cunt with each step closer to the desk in the office he takes.

You don’t even have to worry about the kids right now. You can fall into the bliss you’ve been so desperately trying to find for the past week, because you noted how Azriel’s shadows trailed your son from the room, at least one always with every child at all times of the day.

“You.” His lips slant over yours, his tongue parting your lips with ease. You meet him halfway, licking, tasting your way as his hands hike up the skirts of your dress and pull your panties to the side as soon as your ass hits the edge of the wooden desk. “Tell me what you need, mate.”

There isn’t time for foreplay, for teasing nips of teeth against your hardened nipples. They’re rubbing against the fabric of your dress just fine. No time for orgasms by his hands, his tongue. You’d hardly be able to enjoy the view of Azriel on his knees for you with the size of your bump.

“Your cock,” you whimper, trying desperately to keep your voice low.

You shudder against the fingers he drags across your cunt, swiping through your slick. You’re ready, more than. You need him right this instant.

Azriel swallows the plea you’re about to release, enjoying the way you tug on his hair as a way to reprimand him. It has him grinning into the kiss, his fingers quickly fumbling with his belt because he’s just as desperate as you are, having not nearly been near you—or in you—enough in the past few weeks. 

Your pesky children are always interrupting.

“Your wish is my command,” he answers easily, and your back arches as he rubs the head of his cock across your sopping heat.

Azriel almost snarls with pleasure at the sight of your bump pressing sky-high. He leans in closer, loving the feeling of the three of you close. You’re so fucking beautiful, and there’s something special about how you look swollen with his child, something the both of you made.

He’s seen it four times over by now, and it never gets fucking old. He’ll keep you good and pregnant until you tell him you don’t want any more children.

And he loves the way you writhe against him, hook your legs around his waist, trying to force him closer, your cunt greedily trying to suck his cock deep into your womb. Loves the way your nails pinch into his shoulders, the way your teeth latch onto his lip to keep quiet when he pushes into you in one fell swoop. 

There’s a burst of blood on his tongue but Azriel loves it, quickly pulling out and pressing back in so that you’ll bite him again. When you come down from your high, you’ll apologize profusely, but he doesn’t care, likes a bit of pain with his pleasure. 

He’ll revel in the redness of your cheeks when your children ask him what happened to him later, though.

“Azriel,” you cry, clutching onto your mate for dear life. You love the feeling of his thick cock stretching you, the gushing between your legs when he so easily finds that spot that has you cumming within seconds like some whore. He knows that you need this release, that the both of you need to be quick and quiet with your fucking. Your children can only be occupied for so long.

“I’ll make sure Cassian or Rhys can take the children tomorrow,” Azriel promises against your mouth, smothering the sounds you make for him. He’s just as desperate to hear you scream, the reminder of it has heat pooling in his core, his pace quickening. “Then, you can scream as loud as you want, mate, all night long.”

A second orgasm washes over you like a wave. Azriel didn’t even have to stick his hands between the both of you, but he is now, wanting one more before he releases himself. It’s brewing quickly, and he circles his fingers over your clit, skilled and an expert at everything that has to do with you.

“Yes, yes, yes!” You beg, hips rolling to meet his. Azriel groans into your neck, sucking harshly and laving his tongue over the hurt.

“I’m going to cum,” he pants harshly, straightening to his full height to look down at you in all of your sexed-out glory. The way you can barely keep yourself braced against the desk, the way your mouth is parted in that perfect shape that almost makes him want to pull out and stick his cock down your throat instead. The way that your eyes are rolled so far into the back of your head that you can see the bond connecting the both of you, completely overcome with desire.

You keen your agreement, words jumbled as he takes you to your peak again, the both of you shuddering with pleasure as your orgasms overcome you. 

He rubs you through your pleasure, rocking his hips slowly as he empties himself deeply inside of you. If you weren’t  already pregnant, Azriel’s sure you would be now, with how much cum he’s pumping inside of you.

Your mate hugs you close, rubbing your back until you come down from your high. 

You lean back, blinking up at him blearily, and it makes Azriel want to take you all over again.

“Is that a promise, mate?” You ask, referring to him making sure that all of your children will be away at their aunts and uncles tomorrow night, leaving the both of you to yourselves. Well, plus the two in your uterus.

Azriel hums, finally pulling out of you. You gasp at the loss but his fingers are there, stuffing the leaking cum back into your cunt. You’re not sure your legs can support you right now, but they don’t need to, because you’re already rearing for another round. 

It’s the quietest you’ve seen her, most nervous too. She’d allowed you and your second youngest, Malos, into her room while she prepared for the date, even letting you help her choose the perfect outfit. You could tell that Malos would have rather been anywhere else, goading Baz into a sword fight or Wren into chess, but even she seemed to sense your eldest daughters’ nerves. Malos even attempted to offer advice, which was quickly waved away by Zuzu, claiming that she hadn’t needed any advice at all.

An outright lie, because she stopped you on your way out the door, bashfully asking how your first date with Azriel went, her cheeks red with embarrassment from thinking about the both of you like that.

“Don’t need to,” Azriel mutters and you shoot a hot thrash of annoyance through your mating bond, berating him for his ill-willed words. You watch your mate flinch in his seat, looking up at you with those innocent hazel eyes and the look makes you want to roll yours. It’s accompanied by a cool feeling of an apology, knowing that if he doesn’t cut it out, he’s going to be in the doghouse tonight. “Sorry, my love. I just don’t like the thought of Zuzu…” He trails off like he can barely manage the word at all.

“Dating?” You question, eyebrows raised. Azriel’s eyebrows pull tight into a scowl again, quickly smoothing into that neutral stoicism that any of your children can recreate at the drop of a pin. It’s made figuring out which of the six was responsible for each mess they managed to get themselves into, but as their mother, you can see right through those masks they wear. You are married to the spymaster of the Night Court, after all.

“Please, don’t remind me,” Azriel groans, and he sounds like he’s taken an ash arrow to the delicate skin of his wings, which flex behind him. Such babies, these Illyrian males are. It makes you wish you hadn’t mentioned it to him like Zuzu pleaded you not to. “I can’t fathom it. She’s not old enough.”

You wish you’d requested the presence of Feyre and Nesta.

“She is,” you insist, keeping your voice low so your daughter doesn’t hear. “Your attitude isn’t helping the situation either, Azriel. Zuzu’s already a mess of nerves. Do you think that if she overheard you loathing the male that she’s smitten over that wouldn’t affect her in any way?” Maybe he’s hoping that it does.

“You’re right, my love,” Azriel sighs. He stands from his chair, crossing the room to where you stand and pulling you into his arms. “I’m just worried, is all.”

“Well, worry quieter,” you answer, squeezing him just as tightly. You rest your head against his chest, listening to the unsteady beat of his heart, riddled with worry. He has nothing to fret over, he’s made sure that Zuzu is better trained than any Illyrian warrior. Plus, she’s not even going on a date with a camp-goer, but instead a male born and raised in the heart of Velaris, whom you’ve heard nothing but good about. You might have done a little digging of your own when your daughter told you of this date, asking around town about the boy. Azriel isn’t the only sneaky one in your family. “If I had known how much you’d be sulking once I got to know you, I wouldn’t have—”

“Good evening, shadowsingers,” An all too familiar voice drawls. You jump in surprise, fingers tightening in the back of your mate’s shirt. They clench for an entirely different reason when you turn, seeing not only the High Lord of the Night Court standing in your kitchen, but with the army of his family and the Lord of Bloodshed’s as well. “Are we too late?”

“Just on time,” Azriel responds, trying to keep his mask of cool in place when you pinch him with a knowing look. One night on the couch wouldn’t hurt, he supposes.

On a brush of night-chilled wind, the rest of your children appear, the shadows swirling around the twins’ feet noting them of their extended family’s arrival.

You don’t miss the look of yearning Asteria gives an unknowing Wren.

You can’t wait to see how Azriel and Rhysand will react to that.

“What are you doing here?” Malos asks, snagging a pear from the bowl in the center of the island. She hops up onto the stone and unsheathes her knife, similar to Azriel’s beloved Truth-Teller, taking the blade to the fruit and eating the slice straight from the weapon.

You grimace, not wanting to know the places that blade has been.

“We’re seeing your sister off, of course,” Cassian scoffs, “Not that it’s any of your business, little miss.” He teases, snagging the next slice of fruit from the tip of her blade with the ease of a warrior well-honed for centuries. Had he been a lesser general, the knife would’ve gone straight through his hand.

You don’t even have it in you to scold your daughter.

“It’s entirely my business,” Malos retorts with a glare. You know that look she wears, and before you can scold her, she’s commanding her shadows away from Knox and tripping her uncle on his way around the corner of the counter. Cassian isn’t quick enough to see it coming, smug in thinking that he’s had the last laugh, but Malos is never one to give up.

He crashes down with a yowl to rival a Helcat’s, and it isn’t long before Zuzu is bursting into the packed kitchen, her mouth agape, her hazel eyes furious.

“What is going on in here?” She screeches, scowling at everyone except for Asteria who immediately glues herself to Zuzu’s side in a reassuring hug. Your daughters face softens slightly as she embraces her best friend, but her face returns to that rivaling your own when you’re scolding your children when she turns back to the rest of the family. “What on the continent are you all doing here?”

She looks to you, helpless and embarrassed, and the only thing that you can offer her in return is a sympathetic, sad smile.

 In a family this large and tight knit, it’s inevitable that they’d pry.

“I think the real question is why are you wearing that of all things?” Baz teases, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the counter, looking like he’d rather be out on the town himself.

Normally, your children would go bat for bat with each other, but Zuzu must be more nervous than she’s trying to let on because her cheeks go crimson and she fists the long skirt in her hands, her eyes frantic. “What’s wrong with it? Is it too much?”

Her wings jostle at her back as if they’re begging to be shook, to expel the pent-up energy.

“Basil, go to your room,” you scold, ignoring your second eldest son’s groan of pain when Wren smacks him upside the head. You’re moving across the room toward your daughter, and you don’t like it either, the feeling of every single family members eyes on you as you place your arm on her shoulder in a consoling manner. “Zuz, come with me, baby.”

You guide her back into the front room where she was peering out the curtains in excitement only moments ago. Now, her shoulders are deflated, and her chin is downturned to the floor, hiding her sad eyes behind the draping black hair that reaches her waist.

It’s not a look you’ve seen often on your eldest daughter. She’s confident to a fault, but right now, she looks like she might just crumble.

“Don’t listen to your brother,” you say, sitting her on the plush loveseat and taking the spot next to her. You hold her hand in your own and when she refuses to look your way, you tip her chin up, forcing her eyes to yours. “He’s just jealous because he doesn’t have a date tonight and is stuck here, hanging out with your father and I.” It garners a short puff of laughter from your daughter. “You look beautiful, Zuz.”

“You really think so?” She asks, and you can see the lingering worry lining her iris’.

“Picked it out myself, didn’t I?” You ask incredulously, and thankfully, Zuzu cracks a smile.

“Mom,” Zuz whines playfully, cheeks tinging pink. Then softer, “Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Zuz. I’m sorry about everyone showing up unannounced but I can promise you that your father will be hearing about it,” you say, emphasizing your words with a flare down the bond and a glare at the shadows creeping in the corners of the room. They disperse quickly at your words. “All you need to do is go have fun.”

Zuzu’s grin is beaming, her hazel eyes shining with delight. “I really like him, mom.”

“I know you do, sweetie,” you match her smile, patting her gently on the hand. She launches herself into your arms, squeezing you tightly.

A knock on the door startles the both of you away from each other and when your daughter pulls back you catch the quick glimpse of her nerves again before she’s taking a calming breath her aunt taught her and collects herself, looking like the prideful daughter you know her as.

“You better go answer the door,” you muse, “Before your father or one of your uncles gets to it first.”

She curses, springing from the couch and is gone in a rush of wind, calling out to the house as she rips the door open, “Wish me luck! Love you all even though half of you shouldn’t be here!”

Before anyone can respond to Zuzu’s goodbye, she’s out the door. And just like that, she’s on her first date.

Azriel slinks into the room, collapsing on the couch beside you. He knows that he has some groveling to do, if your glare is any sign, but right now he just wants to wallow. This is much harder than it was when Baz went on his first date. And second. And eighth.

“I still don’t like this,” he mutters, peeking out from behind the curtain and watching your daughter walk down the street with her date. “I should send some shadows with her.”

She’s at dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle but Azriel had chosen not to go. She’d begged him, tugged on his arm and gave him that doe-eyed look that normally would have him giving in to any of her demands. Now it just makes him grimace. 

He could hardly think about eating with the guilty thoughts swirling through his mind, consuming him completely.

What is wrong with him? He wanted Elain, and he had got it, at the price of hurting you. Azriel hadn’t seen a glimpse of you or heard a whisper about you in years. He couldn’t help but wonder if you were even still in town, how you’re doing now. 

He’s been distancing himself as of late, and if the middle Archeron sister has any worries about it, she didn’t voice them to him. It’s hard to be around her when all he does is compare everything she does to you. They way she hugs him with her arms around his neck, staring up into his eyes when you would wrap your arms around his middle and burrow your head into the crook of his neck. The way that she goes on and on, needing to fill any and all silence with stories and anecdotes, whereas with you, the two of you could just enjoy each other’s company, no words needed.

He’d hardly been coming to bed, unable to sleep because of the constant running thoughts of his ex. The drink he usually had was more like a bottle, but did nothing to aid his insomnia. Flying didn’t seem to help either, nor sparring. It’s like all his favorite things had been tainted with the thought of you, in his arms gliding over the city or the smile on your face when you’d landed your first strike on him with the practice sword after six months of giving it your all.

Azriel doubted you’d kept up on your training after he’d ended things.

When he was able to get a few minutes of shut eye it was when he was away and could hold the necklace you’d left behind in his hand. His only reminder that you were ever really his to begin with.

It was the only thing he’d had left of you. You must’ve dropped it behind the dresser some time before you’d cleared the home of your things and he’d found it when Elain had wanted to move the furniture around in his room. Something about a more peaceful mind, if the bed was slid to the wall that didn’t face the door. He’d caught sight of the gleaming metal and tucked it away before she noticed.

He’d tried to regift it. First to Gwyn, because he still wanted to see it, gleaming, wrapped around another pretty neck. He’d gone so far as to give it to Clotho before promptly asking for it back thirty minutes later with crimson cheeks and a heavy heart.

He’d even thought about giving it to Elain for a special occasion. Surely she wouldn’t even know that it used to be yours. He’d imagined mouthing at the pendant hanging between your breasts every time you wore it. He hadn’t had the gall to give it to Elain.

So Azriel had hid it in a secret drawer of his desk after that, promptly forgetting about it because he’d been so enthralled with the breath of fresh air that was Elain.

He doesn't know what he’s doing in the city. Usually he opts for a long flight or time off in a different court, hoping that the warm sun of Summer would burn his feelings away or the fresh breezes of Autumn would clear his head.

But he’s here, shrunk down into his coat because he hadn’t thought to put a hat on, the bitter winds kissing his cheeks and neck annoyingly, and it reminds him of you. Of course it does, because he can’t seem to stop thinking about you, the way you’d always press your freezing fingers up under his shirt for warmth on a cold day.

Azriel’s hair keeps getting blown into his eyes and as much as he tries to shove it back it only slaps right back. He needs to get it cut but doesn’t even have the energy to do that, with everything going on in his mind lately.

He blinks harshly at the tendrils poking his eyes. He stumbles slightly, a strand stuck, and he’s trying to claw at it while grumbling, not quite watching where he’s going because he assumes that everyone will give him a wide berth like they always do–

He runs straight into someone, stumbling back as he frees the piece of hair from his eye. He blinks, an apology already rolling off the tip of his tongue when he realizes exactly who stands before him–

He’d forgotten how perfect you were.

An angel in the flesh.

“Azriel,” you breathe, stunned, and it makes his heart fracture in his chest.

You’re not alone like he wished you would be when he’d thought about all of the times this could happen, should he be so lucky. There’s a child with you, immediately tucking behind your leg at his appearance.

“(Y/N)...It’s really good to hear your voice,” he forces around the thickness in his throat. Saying my name goes unsaid.

Azriel can’t stop looking down at the little boy, hiding behind his mother’s leg. You’ve got a protective hand curled around his thick knit hat, the other clasping a to-go mug of what he scents as hot cocoa from the best bakery in Velaris. The one they used to frequent together, though he always remembered that you were more of a warm cider kind of female. Oh how you’ve changed.

It’s clear the babe is nervous, by the way he keeps tugging on the bottom of your coat. You don’t hesitate, hauling the little boy into your arms even with a hand full.

Azriel’s breath catches and his heart hammers in his chest because there’s tiny wings poking out of the child's fluffy coat.

“This is Wren,” you introduce awkwardly, shifting on your feet anxiously.

He looks closer now, noting how he’s around three or four, from what he can tell, and his heart aches because surely there is only one explanation for this. There's a burning in his chest, even though he knows he shouldn’t feel this way, that he’d moved on even quicker.

Those eyes…

Azriel’s brows furrow, his mouth parting but no words come out. His mind is whirling because Wren’s eyes are a mirror of his own and the longer he looks the more he can see himself in the child. The natural downturn of his mouth, almost apathetic in appearance, his wide eyes, lids lowered a touch over his perfectly round irises - the most stoic child he’s ever seen.

His eyes are glued to the small boy. He has your nose, your ruddy cheeks that nearly give every emotion you’re feeling away. Your cheeks are red right now, in fact. He’s sure that if he tugged the hat off of the child’s head all he’d see is inky black hair.

“Is he–” 

There’s no way he’s not.

You’re quick to intervene, pressing your wrist over the boy's ear and leaning his head into your shoulder, blocking out your response from his tiny ears. “Yes, he is.”

Everything freezes. The snow fluttering down pauses its tracks, the wind is no longer a nuisance brushing the back of his neck with cold fingers, all of the sounds of the bustling city are drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

His hand twitches, lifting as if to touch the child, make sure he’s real, maybe pull that hat off after all. He knows that you’re telling the truth, you were never one to lie about anything, would rather suffer the consequences than talk your way out of it.

But this…

You turn, shifting away from the hand that’s reaching out.

Azriel flinches, arm falling back to his side. He physically cannot look anywhere else besides his son, who seems perfectly content in your arms, head shoved where your neck meets your shoulder. His gloved fingers clutch tightly to your jacket but his wide hazel eyes stay locked on male in front of him.

A punch in the gut is all he feels as he nearly collapses under the child’s gaze. He can feel his heart beating in his chest, the pulse that has his neck throbbing. There’s a dull ache inside of him, a numb feeling humming around his hollow chest where he wishes your mating bond would lie. Countless nights he’d prayed to the Mother to tether the two of you together - each night had without answer. 

He never prays for Elain.

“He doesn’t know,” you admit, and it burns your throat like acid. You hadn’t had the guts to tell Wren that his father had broken your heart into a million pieces a few nights before you found out that you were pregnant. 

You hadn’t had the heart to tell Azriel either.

Hadn’t thought it necessary, as he was perfectly happy with Elain while you were slowly putting yourself back together for the babe growing inside of you. You were determined not to let Azriel affect your life from then on, and it had been hard, but you’d finally gotten that feeling shoved so deep down inside of you you could pretend that you were okay, for Wren.

You hadn’t been expecting to run into Azriel ever again, and now that he’s standing in front of you, that part of your chest has been blown wide open.

He nearly looks the same as he did that night years ago. Hair disheveled from the winds, never thinking to bring a hat with him when his mind was awry, like he didn’t deserve to be warm. His eyes had dark rings around them much like they do now, the hazel color shroud by shadows, like the ones wrapped around his legs, the same way Wren had cuddled into yours before you’d picked him up.

His lips are chapped from the cold and even from beneath his thick coat you can tell that he hasn’t been eating well, sleeping either. Something awful must be going on. 

He’d seemed so much happier with Elain that day he left. 

You don’t have the heart to wonder what must have happened. 

But as much as you want to ask, it’s no longer your place. You shouldn’t care about the male before you, eyes looking so painfully similar to your sons, it was hard not to think about Azriel every time you looked at Wren, even with the wings to match.

He nods once, finally breaking contact with the mini version of himself. He swallows and it hurts, there’s a lump of emotion caught in his throat because he hadn’t been prepared to run into you out and about in the city after years of not seeing you, but now he has a child. A child that doesn’t know him from the next male walking down the street.

He’s not sure what to say, what he can say. I’m sorry doesn’t seem good enough. I still love you won’t have an effect on the female who surely doesn’t believe that could be true.

He startles when a figure draws closer. He had been so caught up in what was going on before him that he hadn’t noticed the approaching male or heard his shadows repeating the information to him.

The male stops next to you, catching your attention with a hand on your lower back. He immediately senses something wrong when you look up at him with a forced smile. His mouth turns into a frown, emerald gaze taking in the shadowsinger standing across from you, immediately recognizing him.

“Azriel,” and there’s your fucking perfect mouth speaking his name. His heart still leaps in his chest when you do, and he wonders how he ever could’ve been so stupid as to choose Elain over you. “This is Malik.”

The man nods at him, eyes sparking with an emotion that’s gone before even Azriel can pick it up, so he responds the same, tilting his head but offering no words to the male who’s stepped up beside you.

He watches the male beside you with his spymaster’s eye. The one that’s kissed your cheek and has a hand caressing your back, when it should be him who’s doing that. It should be him who Wren is reaching out to.

“Daddy,” Wren smiles, and Azriel’s heart twists in his chest, splits down the center at the utter confidence in his son’s voice, claiming this male to be his father.

Malik is…handsome, Azriel supposes, in his own way.

Azriel studies him and finds that the male his son is calling his father looks quite similar to him. Dark hair shoved under a matching knit cap, thick lashes dusted with snow, fluttering over his piercing green eyes. Instead of lines around his mouth from centuries of frowning he has them by his eyes, like he’s the happiest male on the planet.

If he’s truly with (Y/N), he is.

“Would you mind giving us a minute, Malik?” you request gently, passing the babe over. The male gives you a soft smile that makes the fire in Azriel’s stomach grow. He watches Malik lean down to press a chaste kiss on your cheek, and Azriel doesn’t miss the way that you lean into it before flinching back, turning your guilty gaze on him like he’d just caught you cheating.

No, it had been the other way around, hadn’t it?

“Mommy?” Wren questions with a glance towards Azriel. He stretches his wings out behind him and Azriel’s eyes prick with emotion, seeing wings so little. 

Wren is already so much like his father, with his dark hair and pouty frown, gleaming eyes and controlled temper. But those tiny wings hurt you that much more.

A not so subtle reminder to Azriel of all of the flaws he passed down to his son. Never a babe with Elain, though. The children he used to imagine all had your eyes and smile, your calming aura and beautiful laugh. He’d never thought his son would be a spitting image of him, with his hair, his eyes, his nose, his wings.

“I’ll be right there baby,” you reassure, passing your cup of cocoa to Malik. Azriel watches the brush of your fingers against his and his throat clogs with emotion. The skin of his hand is flawless, smooth and stretching across muscle and bone, nothing like his, marred with callouses and scars.

“It was nice to meet you, Azriel,” Malik says in that low voice, one that Azriel would feel like is completely genuine if he weren’t kissing his (Y/N) and holding his son.

“Likewise,” he answers stiffly because he doesn’t want to upset you. He’d done enough of that.

Wren doesn’t say anything as they depart, keeping his big hazel eyes on Azriels. They widen slightly when his gaze brushes over his wings but he’s not as impressed as Azriel would’ve thought, and he doesn’t know why the response doesn’t sit well with him.

“I know you must have a lot of questions,” you begin when they’re out of earshot.

“I do.”

“And I know that,” you murmur, squeezing your eyes shut for a breath while you twist your fingers together. You’re nervous. Hadn’t planned on telling him ever, and now that he’s seen Wren up close there’s no denying it now.

Of course you’d thought this day might come, but now, every scenario you’d thought thorough in your head disappears.

“He doesn’t know,” Azriel states again because all of this seems like a dream gone rogue. He wonders if he’s somehow slipped into an unconscious state, a lucid dream perhaps, which didn’t seem unlikely because he hasn’t been sleeping lately.

“No,” you agree, “And I don’t want him to.”

His head snaps up, mouth parted in disbelief. He’s ready to argue, slipping so easily back into the way he was right before he’d ended things, emotional and utterly a wreck.

You speak before any words can escape, “Whatever it is you’re going to say, don’t. You have no say in my son's life. You gave that up when you gave me up.”

“I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Azriel stays silent.

Your voice is thick when you respond and he hates that he’s made you feel like this again. 

“Exactly.”

He doesn’t even know what to say. There are so many questions racing through his mind he doesn’t even know where to start so he just blurts out the first thought his tongue grabs onto.

“Who’s going to teach him to fly?”

“Rhys said that he would,” you answer, and the flicker of anger that cuts across his eyes tells you that he hadn’t been aware his brother knew he had a child. The muscle in his jaw ticks and his shadows sweep around his feet now, just like they always do when he’s upset. “He’s taking care of us.”

Azriel needs to calm down, he knows he does, but he feels completely blindsided by his own brother right now that he doesn’t know what to do. He’s torn between winnowing right up to the River House to give Rhys a piece of his mind or jumping up into the air to release all of the rage and sadness that’s consumed him tenfold.

He’s taking care of us.

Azriel should be the one taking care of you.

“He knows?” His voice is deathly calm and it sends shivers up your spine. 

It’s why Wren didn’t look impressed by his wings. Because he has seen Rhys’ before.

His shadows are whipping around erratically and Malik takes notice, questioning your safety with a single look.

You reassure you’re okay with a nod and he relaxes slightly, letting Wren to the ground when the little boy squirms in his grasp.

Azriel watches how the male places his hands on his son’s shoulders, holding him in place.

“I asked him not to tell you,” you admit wetly, “Begged him, really.”

He’s brewing.

“Don’t,” your voice is stern, not liking how he’s stewing. “Don’t you blame him. It was my choice.”

“And what about my choice?”

Your mouth goes slack, “Your choice in what?”

“This,” he roars because he can’t take it anymore. His shadows flare around him, a wall of darkness sweeping up from the ground to his shoulders.

Wren screams, pushing away from Malik and rushing over to where you’re facing off with Azriel. 

“Mommy!”

The utter terror in the little boys voice makes Azriel’s spine straighten and his stomach churn. 

Wren’s on him in an instant, little fists shoving and hitting his thighs. It shouldn’t have the slightest effect on him but it does. He’s defending his mother because some strange male has raised his voice at her.

Each point of contact is a stake to his heart. Azriel stands helplessly, watching the little boy go at him until you’re crouching down and pulling him away, Malik pressing behind you with his hands on your arms and a glare in Azriel’s direction.

You look up from where you’re hugging Wren tightly to your chest that’s throbbing painfully, heart racing from something akin to fear, something you’d never felt for Azriel before. There’s tears brimming in your eyes from the sight, from the conversation. He’d never raised his voice at you like this.

This male…you don’t even know who he is anymore.

Your voice shakes when you speak, “You don’t get a choice, Azriel. You lost that a long time ago and you know that.” Your eyes wash over him, up and down. He nearly melts, when venom laces your voice, despite the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “You made that choice.”

“(Y/N),” he reaches out to try and stop as you stand, lifting Wren into your arms again. You shrink away from him.

“I have to go,” you mutter, allowing Malik to usher you and your son away from the stewing Illyrian. You’d always been able to fight for yourself, even without the training. Malik surely knows that, but it still disgusts Azriel how he’s done nothing to defend you.

Zuzu also has dark streaks of paint on her cheeks, a gift from Uncle Cassian, who’d also given her a pep talk before her Moonball game had started. Between him, Azriel, and Rhys, you didn’t know who was cheering the loudest for your little girl, and your heart is bursting with joy at the pride your family is showing in the matching ‘Zuzu Rules’ shirts Rhysand had made for their final game.

Malos pouts where she’s been jostled in Azriel’s arms, on the verge of falling asleep when he’d excitedly begun cheering as Zuzu was passed the ball. Nesta notices at the same time, and is quick to take the babe and soothe her, waving a dismissive hand to Azriel who gives her an apologetic look for a brief moment before returning his gaze to the Moonball game before him. 

He’s nearly vibrating with excitement, and you’ve had to pull Baz out of the way as his wings flared when one of the children on the other team had stolen the ball from Zuzu. 

She’s certainly come a long way since her first game, where the same thing had happened and she’d tried to pummel the child into the ground for doing so. You had glared at your husband and his brothers who had all ducked their heads to hide the grins they were biting back. That was their girl.

Even your older sons had stopped their game of playing warrior to come cheer on their sister, their cousins pushing between all of the tall adult legs for a better view.

One of the children in a navy jersey chasing Zuzu towards the goal suddenly trips and falls into the grass with a surprised gasp but Zuzu doesn’t take notice. Unfortunately, you do, shooting Baz a warning look that says he’s going to get in trouble when he gets home. He’s only eight but he’s already learned a multitude of tricks with his shadows, and to an untrained eye they would’ve thought the child had merely tripped. You knew better than that, and by the way Baz switches sides with Wren so he’s standing further away from you with red cheeks and hunched shoulders, he did too.

Even Knox is intently watching his sister race across the grass. The midnight purple of her jersey brings out the ribbons in her hair, provided by her Auntie Elain and Uncle Lucien, who hadn’t been able to make it, as they were visiting Day for a surprise getaway. 

“Come on baby, come on baby,” you mutter under your breath as she goes. Two children from the opposing team are blocking the way and if she uses her wings again she won’t be able to join the team next season, so you pray to the Mother she doesn’t flare those little wings wide and sweep these kids off of their feet.

“Yes, Z!” Wren jumps, shouting at his sister as she side-steps the offending players. He’d taught her that move when Uncle Cassian hadn’t been playing very fair in the backyard. Everything she’s learned about Moonball had been from her brothers and the rest of her family. She’s a warrior through and through, tough as nails and never backs down even when she was learning with all of the roughness her brothers and male cousins showed. Asteria hadn’t shown interest in the sport, instead she liked playing with her dolls and putting them in poses to draw in her coloring book.

“You got this, Zuz,” Baz encourages, while Jax claps his tiny hands and chants her name over and over again.

Your entire family holds their breath as she sets herself up to kick the ball into the goal. The child in the goal has a ready stance that’s startling for that of someone so young. He looks nearly professional, arms spread wide, knees bent, with a determined look in his eye. He and Zuzu had faced off before, and even her brothers had complimented how good he was at the sport.

Zuzu had scored against him this season once. The other time she had the chance, the little boy had blocked her ball from hitting the goal and you almost hadn’t stopped the rest of your sons from running out onto the field to defend their sister from the goalie who had gloated more than Cassian when he’d won the annual snowball fight, a smug smile on his face.

She’d been more determined than ever, immediately asking her brothers to go out into the yard with the instruction not to go easy on her.

Zuzu cocks her leg back. There’s steely determination in her fierce eyes. Her mouth is set in a firm line as she stares down the child like he’s her worst enemy.

And maybe he is.

The entire field is silent as her leg swings forward. The ball goes soaring through the air, looking like a shooting star, and everyone waits.

The child in the goal pushes off of the ground, throwing his body sideways into the path of the ball.

But he’s too late.

Your family erupts in mass of cheers and excitement, storming the field to gather the star player in congratulations and celebratory hugs. 

She’s beaming, grinning like the day you and Azriel had told her that she was going to have a little sister.

Azriel hikes her up on his shoulders, spinning her around as the other parents gather their children and usher them away, but you don’t care, so utterly proud of Zuzu for scoring the winning goal of the game.

Her braids flop against her shoulders as she twirls, giggling like a mad woman and hands raised in the air in victory. 

“I did it! I did it,” she screams.

The two oldest, Wren and Baz, are carrying the two youngest against their hips like they’d been doing so much more recently. Wren must’ve taken the twins out of their cribs to join in on what seems to be becoming a tradition; waking their parents up on Starfall morning to open their gifts.

Zuzu and Jax must be on waking you and your mate duty as they’re already climbing up into your bed. Your oldest daughter, ever the determined one, uses all of her strength to pull herself up onto the plush bed, only slipping once.

She bounds over to Azriel’s side, abandoning her younger brother, and steps on your legs in the process.

Jax’s face is scrunched up in the cutest way as he watches Zuzu maneuver her way across the strewn limbs of her parents before his wide eyes settle on you, staring at you just like Azriel does sometimes. The kind of look you get where you’re supposed to know exactly what he wants.

You counter it with your own stare, facing off with your fourth born. His eyes barely peek over the edge of the bed, little hands fisting the sheets in his grasp and you know he’s standing up on his little tiptoes by the way he wobbles every so often. You bite back your smile, leaning over to scoop him up from the floor.

“Is the sun even up?” you groan playfully, smoothing back Jax’s hair. He makes a sigh of contentment, immediately burrowing into the warm space he’d wedged himself between you and your mate. You know the rest of your eager children had woken him up for this. “Because I feel like it’s not.”

“Mommy,” Baz whines, readjusting Knox on his hip. You can’t help but puff out a laugh, sharing an amused look with Azriel. Your second oldest looks everything like you right now; hip jutted out with Knox resting there, the tranquil babe lying his head on his brother's shoulder. The knowing look he’s sending you is an exact replica of the face you make when they’re doing something they shouldn’t be. “We can’t sleep!”

Zuzu’s taken position, jumping on the bed by her father. Ever the safeguard, Azriel rolls away from you, his heart jumping in his chest because she’s not only being reckless with his wings so close to where her tiny feet are pounding into the bed, but how she’s so close to the edge and can tumble off at any moment.

She giggles when he snatches her up, pressing kisses to the apples of her cheeks.

Wren is the first to break because Malos makes a startling noise in his arms. His parents have already captured two of the six of them and their bed looks so warm and comfortable and he forgot to put on his socks this morning because he was too excited about presents and now he can hardly feel his toes. Maybe if he presses them against the warmth of his fathers back it will help drive his daddy from the bed…

“Wren,” Baz exclaims, watching how his oldest brother plops Malos down onto the bed before climbing up right after her. “What are you doing?”

Wren shrugs, sidling right up against Az’s side, lounging contently next to his father while he tickles Zuzu, “Sorry Baz, my toes are cold.”

To emphasize, he presses them flush to Azriel’s bare skin, which causes him to grab onto Zuzu and Malos as he flinches, which causes Jax in the middle to startle, whimpering in his cocoon of warmth, which in turn makes you give Azriel that exact look Baz had entered the room with.

Azriel laughs as your second oldest protests.

“But the presents–”

“The presents can wait Bazzy,” you respond, opening your arms up for the rest of your boys, “Come on. I know you want cuddles too.”

“I want presents,” he protests, taking a step closer to the door. He’s stubborn, you’ll give it to him, hazel eyes hard with determination. He looks down at the youngest sibling, murmuring into his mused hair, “C’mon Knoxie, you and me will go open presents.”

But when Knox makes grabby hands towards you there’s nothing he can do. Even though his older brother and Zuzu had been adamant about wanting to tear into the nicely wrapped presents without their parents, they’ve betrayed him and are cozied up in the large bed with them.

He should’ve talked her out of starting without you and Az.

“Traitor,” he whispers against Knox’s forehead, but he doesn’t mean it. It’s followed by a sweet kiss to his brother’s smooth skin who offers him a wobbly grin and a pinch to his cheek in return.

He passes Knox to you who immediately settles onto your chest, beaming at the rest of his siblings already tucked up with you and Azriel. He pats Jax’s head who’s almost back asleep again, gently brushing his hair with his chubby one-year-old hands.

Baz reluctantly follows, the last of the six to arrive. He tugs the blanket over himself, leaning his head against your shoulder, pouting. You rest your head against his, poking his jutting pink lip until he sighs, grabbing your hand to move it from his face and clutching it tightly in his own.

“I want to open presents, mom.”

“I know baby,” you respond just as softly because now he’s whispering like he doesn’t want his siblings to hear. “Let’s give it a few minutes, yeah?”

He sighs but agrees, “Okay. But I get to open the first present, right?”

“I think you might have to fight Zuzu for that honor, baby.” The two of you turn to watch your daughter who’s currently wrestling with her oldest brother. Wren’s laughing but you can tell it’s a bit nervous because his sister is not holding back.

“Cut it out, you two,” you scold, hitting Azriel lightly on the chest because he’s lying there watching the battle unfold, proud as ever.

“Hey,” he whines and your children have definitely picked that up from him. He carefully leans over Jax to press an apology kiss to your lips.

Your children groan in unison and it makes you smile against your mate’s mouth as they scramble from the bed. The cuddles were short lived because they’re dragging Knox and Malos out of you and Azriel’s arms, already cheering and yelling about opening presents once again.

Azriel curses softly against your mouth, “Sorry, my Love. I ruined it because I can’t stay away from you.”

You hum, reveling in the feeling of his lips on yours and the warmth down the bond. “It’s alright,” you brush the hair back from his face, admiring the loving look in his gleaming eyes and the soft smile on his face, “Just means that you’re on cleaning duty.”

Azriel huffs, “Think I can talk Wren into doing it?”

You laugh wholeheartedly because Wren would help his father if he asked. Azriel’s his hands tighten around your waist at the sound.

“We better go before Baz and Zuzu tear the house apart,” you sigh, a lazy smile on your face from your cheeky mate. It melts into a wince as you hear the two of them arguing loudly downstairs.

“Happy Starfall, Love.”

“Happy Starfall, Az.”

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

You and Azriel make your way downstairs hand in hand, sweet murmurs of your plans for the day. Presents, a nice big family breakfast, followed by cleaning up the strewn about present wrappings and preparing the food while your children play, waiting for the rest of the Inner Circle to come over later in the day.

You and your mate had always wanted to host a Starfall party for your family and friends and with Knox and Malos finally stumbling around on their own you thought it was the perfect year. Your home is still new and large enough not only for your own family but for the rest of it as well, a large yard with a nice patio to watch the stars shooting across the sky. To say that you were excited was an understatement. 

You’d sat outside with Azriel under the stars plenty of times since you’d moved in, and with your home being on the outskirts of the city you were convinced that the stars were so much brighter out here. You loved to gather all of your children around on the warm summer nights and point out different star clusters, telling them stories around the bonfire while snacking on delicious treats.

And now you’ll have a winter tradition as well.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

You walk into the room of pure chaos.

Wren has pushed the coffee table out of the way, sitting with Knox and Malos on the carpet who are clapping, your youngest daughter babbling as they watch Baz and Zuzu argue over a gift.

You share a look with Azriel, giving him a soft nod and a squeeze to his hand. 

Ready to be in parent mode.

Jax pads up to the both of you, his lower lip wobbling due to all of the heightened emotions in the room. He’s attuned to the feelings of others and at his young age he doesn’t understand how to differentiate between his and other’s emotions, often resulting in an overwhelmed babe.

Rhysand had said he was showing signs of being an empath, being as introverted as he is and highly sensitive to how others are feeling, along with the fact that your fourth born seemed more content playing by himself rather than with his siblings and cousins.

The fact that the only other arms he felt content in being in are Amren’s was surely a sign, calm in the apathetic females hold.

“Come here buddy,” Azriel greets, scooping the babe into his arms and cradling him close. He runs a soothing hand through his hair and presses kisses into his hair, taking a moment just to be with Jax, letting the child feel his own undisturbed emotions, letting his love wash over the little boy, who you watch visibly relax in his fathers arms.

You love how Azriel is with the kids.

“It has my name on it,” Baz draws your attention, arguing with Zuzu, trying to rip the gift out of her hands.

“No, it’s mine! Drop it now Baz!”

“Hey,” you take action, mommy mode on, letting Jax and Azriel have their moment so maybe he’ll want to participate with unwrapping gifts. “No fighting or no one’s getting gifts.”

Wren spring up before you can make it all the way, snagging the gift from both of their hands. His brother and sister protest like yowling cats but he doesn’t care, reading the tag on the box instead. He’ll be damned if they ruin opening gifts for the entire family.

“Sorry, Bazzy, this one is for Zuz,” he hands the gift to his sister, who sticks her tongue out at Baz in response.

Wren’s already digging around in the pile of presents for one with Baz’s name on it though, pulling one out with a yelp of excitement and handing it to his younger brother, “This one’s for you, B!”

“Sweet,” Baz gawps, taking the gift from his brother before waving it in his sister's face, “And look at that, it’s bigger than yours, Zuz!”

The glare he gets in response makes him back down real fast.

.·:·.☽ ✦ ☾.·:·.

Jax has fallen asleep again, curled up with the stuffed Suriel he was gifted, the sudden rush of emotions from the morning had exhausted him.

You worry for him, but know that Azriel will do everything in his power to make sure that Jax stays comfortable and safe, getting the help he needs when he’s old enough to understand his own gifts.

Azriel comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder.

It was an eventful morning, wrapping strewn about and six happy children. There’s nothing more you can ask for, this is everything you’ve ever wanted.

“I didn’t give you your present, Love,” Azriel’s voice is soothing and soft but the pinch you receive to your hind is not.

You yelp, hand automatically wrapping around his wrist to stop his cheeky antics. Your eyes widen with warning but the saccharine scent sweeping off of you betrays your true feelings, the swoop in your stomach, weak from just a single touch from your mate, even after all of these years.

“I need to get into the kitchen,” your cheeks pink up at the look he’s giving you when you turn in his arms, a suggestive smile to match that glimmer in his eyes, “I have seven hungry mouths to feed.”

You lean into his warmth, wrapping your arms around his neck to hold him there as you admire him, loving the feeling of his body pressed up against yours, that familiar hardening against your leg.

“Let me help you then,” he gives you a long kiss, thumbing across your cheek in a loving manner.

You pull apart as your oldest daughter comes running into the room, skidding to a halt where you’re tangled with your mate, looking up at the both of you with the face you recognize as the one Azriel can never say no to.

You wait, watching amused as Zuzu begs Azriel to play with her new dolls with her until her cousins come over.

Azriel looks at you helplessly and you can’t help but smile softly at him, “Go.” You pat his ass once, twice. He melts, giving you a grateful kiss in return before he reaches down for his daughter's hand.

“You sure?” he asks but Zuzu is already dragging him away.

You laugh, shrugging, “I’ll ask Wrennie and Baz if they want to help.”

“Help what mommy?” Baz perks up, cheeks going cherry red when you shoot him a look because he knows he’s not supposed to be eavesdropping with his shadows. 

“Sorry,” he utters bashfully, waving a stuffed toy that rattles in front of Knox and Malos.

You approach your other children, the two oldest trying to distract the youngest so they can sneak away and play with their own new toys.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to help me with breakfast?”

They both light up at your question, beaming at each other. Baz is a natural in the kitchen, always wanting to help in some way, shape, or form, wanting to learn anything and everything about cooking and Wren just loves to be included no matter what the task.

You scoop up Malos, bringing her new toy with her. Wren helps by wrangling Knox into his arms as Baz races towards the kitchen, buzzing with excitement. Jax is still snoozing peacefully and you’ll put the twins in their chairs while you and your boys cook as you’ve done many times before. Jax will come find the rest of you when he’s good and ready, most likely he’ll be looking for sleepy cuddles, his and your favorite.

The healer hadn’t been able to find anything wrong with the tiny babe, and Azriel had returned with a teary eyed Malos, whom he had hoped would fall asleep on the flight back.

No such luck.

For hours the two of you tried, exhausted and near hysterical as you watched your daughter wailing her little head off, the both of their shadows swirling around the twins, agitated. 

It had been that she was too far away from her brother, you both found out when you had noticed the way that their shared shadows had reached out to each other. The babes immediately settled when they were together in their bassinet, tucked up close to one another as if protecting the other.

You and Azriel only shared a sigh of relief as you quickly slid back into the cold bed, hoping for a restful few hours of sleep before the rest of your brood awoke.

______

Baz, in his true nature, was the one to wake you up.

Azriel had awoken with a start, his shadows hissing to him of the second oldest standing at your side of the bed, ready to rouse you from sleep. 

But he was too late to stop him, as Baz shook your arm gently with a sad mewl, “Mommy?”

“Hm?” you hummed, blinking your eyes open as your heart picked up in your chest at the sound of one of your terrified children. “Baz?”

“I had a bad dream,” his voice quivers and you’re quick to tug him up into bed with you and Azriel, the shadowsinger cocooning the three of you in his warm wings, a shield that would help calm Baz, sandwiching the little lad between the two of you.

You brushed the boy’s hair back from his forehead, “Do you want to tell us what it was about, love?”

He stared at the ceiling for a moment as his lip wobbled at the thought, “Well Wrennie told me about a scary monster that lives out in the woods,” you share a look with your mate, “and I was all alone out there mommy! Not my brothers and sisters, not you or daddy, just me and the ugly beast!”

You rub his back as Azriel talks Baz down, trying his best to calm the terrified little boy. The soothing pattern you’re stroking into his back combined with the warmth of your mate’s wing and the low baritone sound of Azriel’s voice lulls you back to sleep.

_____

Azriel had been summoned away for the morning, so you were in charge of breakfast for your six children.

Which was normally fine except that you had hardly gotten any sleep, had zero reinforcements, and your children were feeling particularly naughty today.

You truly did not think that you had the energy for this today, though being a mother never took a day off.

All you’d like to do is crawl back between your sheets and sleep for a while, get the energy back that had evaded you from your night of unrest. Each shout, clang of a utensil, hand smacking against the table has you tensing further and further, unnaturally irritated with your unruly children.

Jax, the most empathetic of the six, tugs on the leg of your pants, reaching his hands up when you glance down at him, signaling to you that he would like to be picked up.

“Hi Jax,” you can’t help but give him a soft smile, “What are you doing?”

He shakes his hands again, grabbing the air with tiny fists. You know exactly what he wants, but he was one of the quieter children you had, and you and Azriel were more than a bit concerned when you realized that Jax wasn’t quite as outgoing as his siblings, tending to stick to you or him in favor of being around any of the other family that had known him since birth.

This was your way of prompting the young boy to use his words to ask for what he wanted instead.

Jax blinks up at you once, before his face contorts into a pout. Your body tenses, ready for the little boy to start wailing, something he excelled at. 

Thankfully, he doesn’t. He doesn’t look happy as you move your attention from him to the pancakes you’re flipping before you, nearly ready to be served to the hungry bunch chittering away at the table behind you, the other five lined up in their chairs eagerly.

“Up.”

You raise an eyebrow, plating the breakfasts, “Up what?”

His soft huff is entertaining, “Up please.”

“There’s my good boy,” you beam, smiling down at your son as you pick him up and tuck him against your hip. You plant a loud kiss to his cheek that causes the pout to disappear and giggles to bubble up out of him, and you feel a bit lighter because of it.

Until Wren and Baz start arguing.

You hardly know what it’s about, don’t even care because you’re so drained from last night.

The two boys don’t listen to your commands for them to cut it out and calm down. Not even your threat of telling their father stops them from yelling at each other this time, and that trick always worked. Their faces are so red you’re worried they aren’t even breathing through their screams.

Next to Baz, Zuzu is covering her ears with her hands, an annoyed look on her face while she stares you down, waiting for you to end the fight.

It seems as if Malos wants in on it too, babbling loudly in their direction. She hadn’t seemed to have enough screaming and crying for the night and deems now the perfect chance to join in.

You clutch Jax tighter, shutting your eyes for a moment and trying to block out the sounds of your children, if only for a moment, as Jax yells from your arms at them to stop. Their arguing grates against your skull, and your eyes burn with lack of sleep. You so badly wish to handle this like a rational parent but you’re about to snap–

“Wren, Baz,” a familiar voice calls, and your shoulders slacken with relief immediately, “What are you two arguing about?”

Azriel had chosen to return at the perfect time, sensing your utter frustration down the bond. He shoots you a worried glance but you smile stiffly, turning back to the plates loaded up with pancakes for your children.

The two boys fall silent, cheeks rosy under the stern stare of their father.

Neither of them dares speak. 

Azriel is quick to solve the matter and meet you in the kitchen where you’re leaning against the counter with Jax cuddled close in your arms, breathing in his fresh scent of sandalwood and citrus, uncaring about the cooling pancakes on the plates for the awaiting children.

“Come here buddy,” Azriel says softly, opening his arms up for Jax, “Let’s let mommy relax for a bit, yeah?”

“No,” Jax protests, and his arms clasped around your neck tighten, “Mommy!”

“It’s okay, Az,” you respond softly, enjoying the feeling of the cuddles you’re receiving. You rest your head atop Jax’s and Azriel’s eyes soften at the both of you.

He nods, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek and then Jax’s. His hand is a warm caress at the base of your spine and you’re hit again with just how tired you really are.

“Why don’t you and Jax go eat breakfast in bed,” he offers, sliding the pancakes from your plate onto Jax’s and handing it over to you, “I’ll feed the rest and get them ready for the day. Cassian said he and Nesta would watch them for a bit.”

You bite back your grin. Cassian was always one to offer up his help, though every time you arrived to pick your children back up he looked like he’d been to hell and back, swearing he’d never watch them again.

You loved him for it.

“Thank you,” you murmur, letting Jax take a pancake to munch on while you give Azriel a peck on the lips, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he murmurs, giving you a soft, admiring smile.

“I love you, too,” Jax exclaims around his mouthful of breakfast.

You share a laugh, readjusting him on your hip as you retreat from the chaos that is the morning meal.

You and Jax cuddle up in your large bed and you instantly relax, quietly eating the pancakes while enjoying each other's company. 

He is so much like Azriel, quiet in nature but rational and empathetic. The way he’d clung to you moments before his brothers started arguing as if he knew that you would need a calming presence if you weren’t going to snap at them.

You definitely were but it was the thought that counted.

Azriel appears some time later, when the other children have all eaten and are ready for the day, his shadows keeping watch as Wren helps his siblings get their shoes and coats on right while he goes to retrieve Jax.

He finds you and your fourth in a comforting embrace, Jax curled up into your side as you read him his favorite book.

He can’t help but to admire the sight, heart swelling with the utmost love as he watches the two of you together.

Feeling that warmth fill your body down to your bones draws your attention to the door.

“I’ve just come for the little one,” Azriel says softly, like if he’s too loud he’ll break the cloak of peace the both of you have created.

“I want to stay with mommy,” Jax frowns, clutching your shirt tighter.

Azriel looks to you for confirmation but how can you say no when your baby is making a face like that? Pulling on your heartstrings because he’s already such a caring boy.

“I think we’re both enjoying our time together too much to move,” you smile at your mate, resting your temple in Jax’s soft hair.

Azriel’s smile sets your heart fluttering, “Alright then. I’m taking the other’s to Cassians. I’ll come check on the two of you a little later, maybe bring you some lunch?”

“Spoiling us?” you grin up at your mate.

She and Baz had played a tiny prank on Uncle Cassian, who had taken it with a grain of salt, enjoying the harmless joke and the way his niece and nephew were giggling like mad. He hadn’t told their parents about it, either.

She’d gotten to stand on her fathers toes as he twirled her around the room while the upbeat music sounded throughout the large home, her tiny hands in his large ones made Azriel choke up a little, golden eyes shining with unshed tears, filled with so much love for his little girl, while she stared back up at him just as loving.

And Zuzu had even gotten a New Years kiss from Uncle Rhys, whom she had a massive crush on. He’d swooped her up as she ran by, saving her from Wren Baz’s outstretched hands, ready to tag her in their game.

She’d clasped onto him tightly while he shooed the boys off and then explained to her that it was officially a start to a new year, which meant change, growth, and promises that she’d cherish forever, vowed with an exaggerated smack of his lips to her cheek that had her blushing and giggling like mad.

She’d been in awe when it had marked the start of the new year. The way Uncle Cassian had spun Auntie Nesta around and tipped her back into his strong arms for a kiss that looked just like the fairy tales she saw in her books. The way that Uncle Rhys had looked at Auntie Feyre like she was the only other person in the room, violet eyes sparkling before he’d pulled her in so close that not even Nyx could squeeze between their legs, capturing her lips against his.

And her parents. She’d seen them kiss many times before, of course, but this…the way her father had leant down to whisper in her ear, nudging her ruddy red cheek with his nose, his smirking lips caressing her soft skin. He’d had her chin tucked between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it ever so gently to meet his eyes.

Zuzu hadn’t ever seen them smile so bright.

Finally he’d kissed her mother. But it wasn’t passionate like Uncle Rhys and Aunt Feyre, nor was it fiery like Uncle Cassians and Aunt Nestas. It was sweet, soft, fleeting, but loaded with a thousand promises. A thousand ‘I love you’s,’ a thousand ‘you’re my everything,’ and many more that the young girl didn’t know the words for.

They’d looked at her then. Then at her brothers, Wren and Baz where they were making faces with Giddy and Nyx at the sight of watching their parents kiss each other. Jax and the twins were already in bed but she knew her parents were thinking about them as they embraced, her mother leaning into her father like he was her world, the only thing keeping her standing.

Zuzu wants a love like theirs when she grows up.

You close the door gently behind you, a tired smile all of your own gracing your lips as you lean against your daughter's door. You’re exhausted and sated, so incredibly happy with the night spent with your friends and family, ringing in the new year together again. It was something special.

Azriel exits Wren and Baz’s room at the same time, mouth turned upwards in a small smile, thinking about how excited they were, telling him all about how much fun they had at the party with their cousins and family.

His heart is full, even more so when he was sitting with his two sons, one cuddling to each side of him and he could feel the swell of emotions you were leaking through the bond from where you were with your daughter, doing much the same as he and his sons were.

And there you are, looking as beautiful as ever. You’re dressed in the perfect new year dress, though everyone you wear seems better than the last in Azriel’s eyes. You’re glowing even though you look a smidge exhausted from the events of the party, but that smile you’re giving him makes his heart stutter in his chest just like it did the first time you blessed him with it.

Neither of you have to say anything, have the energy to, as you push from the door to meet your mate halfway, basking in the warmth thrumming through you, collapsing into his arms.

You press your ear to his chest, the steady beat a perfect melody as he gently takes your hands to wind them around his waist before one of his caresses the base of your head and the other your spine, slowly swaying the both of you in a silent rhythm in his mind.

It’s a perfect beginning to the new year, all of your babes sound asleep, your mate in your arms, dancing together in the hall of your beautiful home.