The Spymaster constantly leaning down to remain on the Doctor's eye level, even kneeling to continue on a conversation with her, is such a fascinating part of his and the Doctor's relationship but it's also soooo funny. Man is finally taller than his ex but now it's Weird so he has to keep on bending down to not be above her eye level.
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🫶🏻summary: azriel panics because a new chapter begins.
author’s note: i just imagine azriel absolutely shocked by the news when he’s told he’ll be a father. i also know he’ll do everything in his power to provide all the love, safety, support and care for his child. 🩷
one shot
Azriel stood frozen, like a statue. He couldn't hear the words stumbling out of your mouth anymore, but he watched as you paced back and forth—from the door to the balcony and back again—nervous out of your mind.
But Azriel? Oh, he was panicking.
His shadows weren’t nearly as sluggish as he was. They kept roaming back and forth between the two of you, brushing soft tendrils delicately across your cheeks, your wrists, your ankles, and then, tentatively, your stomach.
"Baby."
"Baby."
"Baby," they kept repeating back to him, but the poor man remained as frozen as the Winter Court.
"Say something, godsdamn it!" You came to a sudden stop, looking at your mate with widened, watery, panicked eyes. "Are you upset? Do you not want it? Or... do you want it, but not with me? Oh gods, you look pale. White as a ghost. Fuck, I shouldn't have said anything, but Madja and Feyre both said you'd figure it out sooner or later anyway, and I didn't want you to be upset because I kept it from you, so I thought I should just tell you..."
You kept rambling, the words blurring into gibberish because you were completely, utterly terrified. And Azriel just stood there—his hands and jaw slack, pupils blown wide, doing nothing but staring.
Because this dream was something deeply buried inside his chest. It was a dream he had only ever just dared to imagine himself fulfilling.
And now, panic gripped him.
What if he wasn't capable of being a father? He didn't even know what a good father was supposed to look like. What if the child grew up hating him? What if they suffered just for being the child of a bastard, brute Illyrian?
What if—
"Az?" Your voice cut through the endless spiral of his dark, doubting thoughts.
You stood across from him, looking so small, with tears glistening in your eyes.
Oh gods, what have I done?, he thought, his heart squeezing painfully inside his chest.
"Do you not want it?" you asked, your voice small and painfully uncertain.
"No!" he said, but he immediately winced as your face crumpled. "I—I mean… I'm not… I'm not mad about it. At all."
Mother above, he was sweating.
You stood still, anxiously wringing your fingers. "But?" you asked, your voice broken and wobbling.
Azriel remained quiet as he stepped closer to you. He genuinely expected you to step out of his way—to push him away.
But you didn't. You waited for him, waiting for his touch.
"I'm happy because it happened with you," he murmured, tentatively brushing a knuckle over your wet cheek. You bit your lip, but your chin still quivered.
Azriel's heart was beating rapidly—so loud you could hear it—but down the bond, you could feel his unmistakable fear.
His voice was quiet as he spoke. "I don't know how to fulfill the role of a good father."
Your face softened.
You knew all about the painful, terror-filled childhood in which your mate had grown up. You knew that even after all this time, he still beat himself up, still carrying the deep-seated belief that he wasn't deserving of unconditional love. He was terrified that somewhere along the line, that he would mess up and lose you for good. For so long, he had been convinced that you deserved someone else—someone who wasn’t as deeply broken as he was.
It had taken time, but you had never turned your back on him. You had kept showing him, day after day, just how much you loved him. You had proven to him that he was deserving of goodness, of unconditional love, and of protection.
"Az," you whispered softly, gently brushing his hair away from his beautiful eyes to force him to look at you. "I love you."
He sucked in a sharp breath.
"What your father was," you said firmly, "doesn't mean you are him."
His dark eyes bored into yours, his ragged breath fanning over your tear-soaked face. His massive wings, along with his arms, were still heavy and sluggish for someone so feared all across Prythian.
"What if I fuck up?" he whispered carefully, the vulnerability in his voice nearly breaking your heart.
"We’re first-time parents," you said softly. You reached up, gently cupping his face and brushing your palm against his cheek. He instantly leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second as if your hand was his only anchor. "We’re both going to fuck up sometimes, Az. That's just a part of it."
Azriel weakly shakes his head. "No, I mean… what if they’ll hate me?"
A small, tender smile tugged at your lips, and you let out a soft wet laugh, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. "They won't. Well… maybe when they’re teenagers and want to rebel. But never for real."
He breathed out a shaky sigh, his large hands finally moving to rest gently on your hips, anchoring you to him. "How are you so calm?"
"Because," you murmured, sliding your fingers through the dark strands of his hair, "I know our baby is going to grow up in a house completely overflowing with love. I know his father might be the Shadowsinger—feared across all of Prythian—but to our little one, he’ll just be the center of the world. He’s going to look at you and want to be exactly like his dad."
A spark of something warm and bright lit up his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. "His dad..." He paused, swallowing hard as a soft, rare smile finally broke through his rugged features. "You kept saying 'he.' You think it's a boy?"
You bit your lip, but a soft giggle escaped, suddenly shy as you looked up at him, nodding as you slid your arms around his neck to pull him closer. "I had a dream that you were holding a little winged babe, his little face calm as he snoozed on your chest,” Azriel’s eyes widen slightly, his mouth falling open.
“So, I hope it’s a boy. A sweet little boy who looks just like you,” you kiss him softly. “You're going to show him exactly how beautiful it is to be loved, Az. I know it. You deserve it.”
You deserve it.
The words echoed deeply inside Azriel’s chest. As he looked down at you—at your beautiful, radiant smile, the happy tears now glistening in your eyes, and the way your entire face lit up with an ethereal warmth—he couldn't help but believe it. He believed, that the Mother truly wanted him to be happy. That you, his mate, wanted nothing more than to give him a joyful life.
So, he smiled.
It was a wide, breathtaking smile that bloomed across his face before breaking into a soft, rare laugh. The mating bond between you vibrated violently, flooded with pure love and dizzying excitement.
Azriel gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, cradling your face inside his large, scarred palms.
Hands that you loved so deeply. Hands that brought an instant wave of comfort, making you feel entirely protected, cherished, and safe.
"You're glowing," he murmured, his voice thick with awe as he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world.
But now it’s two.
"Because you make me happy," you whispered back, leaning into his touch. "Because I'm your mate. I'm your wife."
"And the mother of my child," he added, the words sounding sacred on his lips. His thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones, wiping away the remnants of your tears.
"You're going to be a father, Az," you laughed, the sound watery but bursting with happiness. You slid your hands up to rest over his broad chest, feeling the steady, rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. "Is it too early to start picking out baby names?"
Azriel let out another laugh, the sound rich and low in his chest.
He didn't answer with words. Instead, he wrapped his arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his face into the crook of your neck. His large wings folded entirely around the two of you, shielding you both from the rest of the world like a cocoon.
As he held you there in the quiet safety of your room, one of his large hands slowly moved down, sliding away from your waist to rest incredibly gentle over your still-flat stomach. He let out a long, contented sigh against your skin, holding you close as if he would never, ever let go.
Synopsis: you're studying to become an official healer, which means you've been super busy and haven't spent much time with azriel lately. one night he shows up at your office super needy and you don't get much work done after that...
Warnings: smut, f!receiving, slight breeding kink, not sure if this is a warning but semi sub!azriel
Word Count: 1,950
A/N: thanks for this request! i had fun writing it <3 i love azriel so bad and as much as i love dom!azriel, i have a soft-spot for his subby side <3 let me know what you all think!
Ever since you’d started studying to become a Healer, you hadn’t been able to spend much time anywhere but the library.
Thankfully, you were close enough with Gwyn and Clotho that they gave you an office to keep your books in and have a quiet, private study space.
You sat in the desk chair of your office, elbows propped up on the desk and chin in hand. It was past midnight, but study calls.
You flipped through one of your pre-Healer books half-asleep when a shadow landed on your shoulder and tickled at your neck.
“Hey Az,” you giggled, smiling.
Moments later, he appeared in the doorway with your favourite flowers in hand.
He wasn’t in his battle attire, he wasn’t the scary Spymaster, he was just your loving mate.
You rose from your chair, heading to the doorway to greet him.
“Aw Azriel,” you grabbed the flowers then touched his face, “you’re the sweetest male in the world.”
“I miss my mate,” he said wearily.
Guilt swallowed you whole. You knew that Azriel hadn’t been on any official Night Court business trips in a while, and it was getting to him.
It was kind of a good thing because it meant no shady shit was going on that needed taking care of, but it was also a bad thing because Azriel needed the adrenaline of Spymaster duties. He was restless without it, and without you.
It was like he didn’t know what to do with all his free time. Especially since you were so busy studying.
You couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex, which seemed to be exactly what Azriel was thinking too.
You swatted some notebooks out of the way and placed the flowers on your desk, Azriel following you into your office.
“I know Az, I miss you too. I’m sorry I’ve been so busy lately and I haven’t had much time for us.”
“It’s okay princess…it makes me happy knowing you’re studying for something you want so bad. I’m really proud of you.”
Your heart melted at your mates reassuring words. You really loved him more than anything, and he was the only one to ever say he was proud of you, so every time he said it it was the best feeling in the world.
You leaned against your desk as Az put his hands on your waist.
“I love you,” you whispered to him.
He pressed his forehead to yours and the scent of him made your head spin.
“I love you too,” he whispered back and placed a soft kiss on your lips.
“What’d you do today?”
“I paced around our bedroom, sparred with Rhys because I was jealous that he has his mate around all the time, made dinner, ate dinner, then Nesta said she was sick of my brooding and gave me one of her smutty books, and now I’m here because I don’t want to be away from you any longer.”
He nudged you with his head like a cat.
“Aw…so you read Nesta’s books huh?”
He smirked at you and bit his lip to hide his smile.
“Is that why you’re really here, Az?” You teased, “Did those books get you all worked up?”
“Maybe…but I do really miss you princess, I miss touching you,” he breathed and started moving his hands up your body.
You closed your eyes and inhaled. Your final exam was only two days away. You couldn’t get distracted now, when you were so close to the finish line.
You pushed off the desk and out of Azriel’s grasp.
“I miss you too sweetheart, I really do,” you started as you circled the desk to reach your chair, “but my exam is in two days. Just use that Spymaster patience for two more little days and then we can fuck like rabbits. I promise.”
He didn’t look convinced.
“Babyy,” he whined, rolling his eyes and sinking defeatedly into the seat across your desk.
“I’m sorry Az! You know how important this is, c’mon don’t be a big bat-baby, it's two days.”
“Just because you put emphasis on ‘two’ doesn’t make it sound better you know.”
You scoffed playfully at Azriel’s needy attitude, but you stood your ground.
“You heard me, Shadowsinger.”
He dipped his head and looked at you intensely with his hazel eyes; one of his wings twitched.
“Fine,” he huffed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.
You smiled at having won, and because you liked seeing your mate all sexually frustrated like this. A little teasing never killed anyone.
You assumed the same position you were in before Azriel entered.
Roughly five minutes passed of you two sitting in complete silence. The only sound was the one of you flipping the page every now and again.
Azriel was completely still the whole time, focused on you. Then, he moved.
He pushed his seat back, but instead of getting up, he tucked his wings in tight and got on his knees, crawling beneath the desk.
Your eyebrows rose.
“Az? What are you doing…?”
You looked down and he appeared right at your knees, placing a scarred hand on either one and slowly spreading them apart.
“You can keep reading your books all you want princess, but I can’t wait two minutes for you, let alone two days.”
You were at a loss for words. You knew Az loved going down on you, but you’d never seen him this desperate to taste and touch you.
Once your knees were spread to his liking, he hooked his hands beneath your thighs and pulled your hips closer to him. You gasped as your ass slid down the seat of the chair.
He bunched your short skirt up to your waist and lifted your legs so that your ankles rested atop your desk. You pushed your ankles down onto the desk to help you lift your hips up so Azriel could peel your panties off.
You were spread out, on full display before your mate who was on his knees, looking at your pussy like it was God.
You softly moaned at the sight of him, and he did the same.
He dragged his eyes from your wetting core back up to your eyes.
“Keep reading.”
“What?”
“You need to study, right? So keep reading.”
Cauldron. There’s no way you’d be able to retain any of the information you read while Azriel ate you out. That male can and has made you scream on his tongue.
“Read out loud this time,” he added before placing his hands on your thighs, readying himself.
He looked up at you in a way that you knew meant he wouldn’t start until you did.
You grabbed the book off the desk and leaned back into the chair.
“Chapter six, the limits of healing,” you started.
You felt Azriel’s breath against your pussy, and heard him mumble something along the lines of ‘I need you’ before he started pressing kisses to your cunt and flicking his tongue up and down it.
Your voice trembled as you continued reading.
“Th-there are b-boundaries of healing that should n-never be crossed, fuck, the c-conseq-quences will be deadly.”
Azriel licked and sucked at your pussy with wild desperation.
He moaned as he sucked on you and spit on your pussy, licking his spit back up as it slid down your core and burying his face in you.
His grip on your thighs was tight enough to leave bruises that matched his siphons.
His wings began twitching underneath the desk, making it shake left and right.
Azriel’s wings only twitched in unison like that when he was close to cumming…
Was he gonna cum just from tasting you?
The thought pushed you right to the edge.
“Fuck, A-Azriel, I’m g-gonna cum.”
He groaned his approval against your pussy and plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you with it until you came on his tongue, your wetness dripping onto his chin.
“It’s not enough,” he said as he practically threw the desk off his wings and stood up again, pulling you off the chair and bending you over the desk that was now five feet away from where it should be.
“I’m sorry princess, but your books can wait two minutes until I’ve had my turn with you,” he pulled your tank top over your head and grabbed your breasts, pulling you against his hard on.
“Azriel,” you breathed out, “I love it when you get like this.”
“Yeah? I’m sure you do,” he responded while he stripped out of his pants and underwear, “you’ve made me wait way too fucking long, I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
He lined his hard length up with your entrance and moved himself against your clit.
“I’m sorry baby,” you moaned out, “I swear I didn’t mean to.”
Azriel placed your hands on the desk, then placed his own hands beside yours, towering over you and hovering atop your head.
He leaned forward and kissed your temple.
“Don’t apologize princess, I feel so much better now,” he whispered close to your ear as he slid himself into you and you moaned in pleasure.
Azriel started fucking you at a steady pace, grabbing your jaw and tilting your head upwards to look at him.
“I fucking needed this,” he groaned, “I fucking needed you.”
“Mmm, yes, Azriel, fuck,” you drawled out as the sound of Azriel’s hips snapping against your ass filled the office, maybe even the whole library.
You braced your hands more firmly on your desk and used them to help push your hips back against Azriel’s dick.
He whimpered as he gripped your hips with both hands and started pounding into you, faster and harder.
“I need to cum in you, I need it so bad princess, please can I cum in you?”
“Cum in me Azriel please,” you replied out-of-breath as you neared your orgasm too.
“Fuck, f-fuck baby,” he moaned as his wings twitched and he emptied himself inside you, your orgasm following right after.
He put his arms around you and held your shaking body through it until you caught your breath.
Azriel slid out of you ever so slowly, so as to make sure you kept all his cum inside you.
You pressed your thighs together once he was fully out to keep his cum from sliding down them.
Azriel, still with his hands on your hips, turned you around to meet his gaze.
“Thank you princess,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against yours once more.
“Thank you Az, I needed to decompress.”
He giggled lightly and held you close in the silence for a few moments.
“Do you think you’re gonna do some more studying?”
“I don’t think I can focus on a single sentence with my brain this warm and fuzzy.”
He smiled.
“Then, do you think I could have more?”
You furrowed your eyebrows at him in confusion.
“You wanna have sex again?”
“No,” he said rather shyly, “I want to make you cum on my face again.”
Your pussy filled with butterflies.
“What happened to the Azriel who told me never to be too greedy?”
“What can I say,” he said as he began lowering himself to his knees before you, “you healed me princess.”
You smiled down at him and put your fingers in his hair as his shadows skittered up your arms.
Azriel placed a kiss on your pussy then looked up at you.
“You really are gonna make a great Healer.”
You looked at him with admiration.
“Thank you, my Azriel.”
He whined at the sound of you calling him your Azriel, and buried his face in you once more.
Summary: Elain whispers a name, and something deep inside Azriel stirs, a reaction rare and unsettling, one he cannot understand. The shadows echo it, and suddenly he knows he cannot ignore her.
Sweat rolled down Azriel’s temple and disappeared into the collar of his leathers. The wind screamed in his ears as he flew, wings cutting through the night. Cassian’s voice carried behind him, loud and exasperated.
“Slow down, shadows! You’re going to take out my wings trying to prove a point!”
Azriel ignored him. He angled higher where the air thinned and the stars stretched endless above the world.
Since the war with Hybern ended, sleep had been a stranger. Every time he closed his eyes something inside him stirred awake again, a tension with no name and no end. He knew that feeling. He had lived with it his entire life, but now it felt different. There was no war to fight, no enemy to hunt, no monster to kill. Only peace. And somehow that was worse.
Rhys and Feyre had found joy in rebuilding. Cassian and Nesta were mated, spending their days between sparring and loving each other so fiercely that everyone else learned to stay out of the way. Amren had settled with Varian in her own sharp and feral way. Even Elain had begun to find her footing again. She laughed more, sometimes even visited Lucien in the Day Court.
Everyone had someone.
Everyone except him.
He filled the quiet with work until Rhys forced him to rest. He helped Cassian train the priestesses, pushed himself harder, further, faster. He even let Gwyn’s bright humor pull him into friendship, though they both quickly realized that was all it would ever be.
So he trained alone. It was the only thing that quieted the noise in his mind.
“If you can’t keep up, just say it,” Azriel called over his shoulder, his voice even.
Cassian’s laugh echoed across the wind. “Please. You couldn’t lose me if you tried. You fly like an old man.”
Azriel’s mouth curved slightly. “And yet I’m still ahead of you.”
“You mean barely,” Cassian said, drawing level. “What are we doing, Az? You trying to outfly your thoughts again?”
Azriel didn’t answer. He tilted his wings and dropped into a dive. The wind howled. Cassian swore and followed, landing hard beside him on the balcony of the House of Wind.
Cassian flexed his wings, grinning. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”
Azriel tugged his leathers tighter. “You talk too much.”
Cassian laughed, clapping him on the back. “And yet you keep me around. Must be love.”
“Or pity.”
Cassian’s grin widened. “I’ll take either.”
“Come on,” he said as they stepped inside. “Nesta’s still in the ring. She’ll say I’m avoiding her again.”
Nesta was, in fact, still training when they reached the courtyard. Her braid was loose and sweat gleamed along her neck as she corrected one of the priestesses’ stances. The air rang with the sound of steel and breath.
Cassian leaned against the railing, arms crossed, eyes soft with pride. “Look at them. I can barely keep up anymore.”
“She’s effective,” Azriel said, watching the sharpness in Nesta’s movements.
Cassian chuckled. “You mean terrifying and effective.”
Nesta turned toward them as if sensing their eyes. “You’re late,” she called, voice cool.
Cassian spread his hands. “Azriel needed air. I’m being supportive.”
“You’re being annoying,” she said.
“Same thing.”
Her eyes rolled skyward but her mouth twitched, a smile threatening before she turned back to the ring.
Azriel stayed a moment longer, watching the priestesses train. There was strength in the rhythm of their blades, quiet and deliberate. He admired it. They were rebuilding themselves piece by piece, just as he was trying to do.
Dinner that night was loud. Cassian’s laughter boomed, Mor’s stories filled the air, Feyre smiled softly beside Rhys as he watched her like she was the only thing that existed. Even Amren looked entertained, in her own cool and predatory way.
Azriel sat at his usual place across from Rhys, Elain beside him. Her presence was gentle, grounding.
Cassian was in the middle of another ridiculous story when Mor cut in. “That is not how it happened,” she said, laughing.
“You weren’t even there,” Cassian replied.
“I was the one who saved you,” she said.
“You distracted the wrong guard.”
“I distracted the right one,” Mor said. “He just didn’t survive it.”
Rhys chuckled quietly. “Remind me to never send the two of you on a diplomatic mission together.”
Amren lifted her glass. “Diplomacy is wasted on them.”
“Better than being boring,” Cassian muttered.
Feyre laughed softly and leaned against Rhys’s shoulder. The warmth of the room wrapped around them all.
Until Elain went still.
Her fork slipped from her hand and hit the plate with a sound that cut through the chatter.
“Elain?” Feyre asked, her voice careful.
Elain didn’t look at her. Her gaze had gone unfocused, lips parting as if she were listening to something none of them could hear.
“She ran,” Elain said quietly. “Long ago, before the courts were divided.”
The table went silent.
“She was meant to rule them all,” she continued, her voice distant. “But she hid. She hid so well that even the stars forgot her.”
Cassian straightened in his chair. Nesta froze.
“Elain,” Feyre said again, cautious and soft, “who are you talking about?”
Elain blinked, her voice trembling. “The heir. The last one. She’s alive.”
Then her eyes cleared. Confusion washed over her face. “I don’t know what I just said.”
No one spoke.
Dinner ended quietly.
Later, they gathered in Rhys’s office. The fire burned low, shadows stretching long across the marble floor.
Cassian paced, restless. “You can feel it. The human queens are whispering again. Spring is a mess. Autumn’s too quiet. If someone doesn’t take control soon, this peace will break.”
Feyre frowned. “You think we should be the ones to do that.”
Cassian glanced at Rhys. “You already lead, whether you admit it or not. Maybe Prythian needs that officially. One ruler. One command.”
Rhys leaned back in his chair, calm as ever. “Unity doesn’t come from a crown.”
Azriel stood near the window, watching the lights of Velaris flicker far below. His shadows curled along the glass. “He isn’t wrong,” he said. “Division has always been our weakness.”
Feyre’s gaze found him. “And you think one ruler would fix that?”
Azriel’s expression didn’t change. “Someone will try, eventually. Better it be someone we trust.”
Amren, who had been silent until then, made a low sound of amusement. “Perhaps that’s why Elain opened her pretty mouth tonight.”
Cassian turned. “You think she was seeing something real?”
Amren smiled, all teeth and shadows. “You’d be a fool to dismiss her visions.”
Rhys’s tone sharpened. “You know something.”
“I know many things,” she said lazily, turning her wine glass in her hand. “Some are better left sleeping.”
Mor crossed her arms. “You’re talking about the old stories again.”
Amren’s eyes gleamed. “Stories have roots. Sometimes they still breathe.”
Feyre tilted her head. “Do you remember the name?”
For a moment Amren’s expression shifted. The air seemed to still. Then she said, “Y/N.”
The name hung in the air like the echo of a bell.
Azriel froze. His heart stumbled once before steadying again. His shadows recoiled from the sound, then crept closer, restless and uncertain.
Feyre glanced around the room. “Who is that?”
Amren finished her wine and set the glass down. “Someone the world forgot,” she said quietly. “Perhaps wisely.” She paused at the door, the firelight catching the edge of her smile. “But not everything buried stays lost.”
And she was gone.
The room stayed silent long after the door closed.
Cassian’s usual humor was nowhere to be found. Rhys sat thoughtful and still, his eyes on the flames. Feyre’s hand was tight around his.
Azriel said nothing. The name echoed inside him, unfamiliar yet heavy, as if it belonged somewhere deep in his bones.
His shadows whispered it again and again, their voices low and unending.
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The masters version of the tardis always being a stereotypical dark moody lighting evil version of the console room never fails to make me laugh like yes your evilness remember to leave about 10 spare minutes in your super evil plan to adjust the colour pallete. 15's hospital room core big light tardis would send them into an interior design meltdown