bookworm | farm girl | brown-eyed, tall Latina | empath | cancer baby in july | 23 yrs old | uni kid | future BCBA | INFJ | sports enthusiast | -the battles other's may have aren't always seen at first sight-
“God, Y/N. I’m fine.” Rafe pulls your hand from his collar. But you click your tongue at him.
“Come on, I promise you look better with it folded properly.”
Rafe glances at his watch. “We’re running late.”
“Who cares?” You mutter as you straighten the creases of his shirt.
“I do.” He snaps before grabbing hold of your wrist and dragging you out of his room, not letting go until you are standing right next to his car. He opens the door for you and taps his foot as he waits for you to get inside but your steps are too slow with you checking your bag for necessities.
“Tylenol. Mouthwash. First aid kit.” You look up from your bag. “You still have our extra clothes in your trunk, right?”
“Yes.” He spoke impatiently, his bored stare sharpening.
When you finally get inside, he slams the door extra loud, startling you, but you shrug as you fasten your seatbelt.
Rafe jams the key in and ignites the engine. He’s about to step on the pedal when you place a hand on his chest.
“Seatbelt.” You smile sweetly and he bites back a retort, only choosing to roll his eyes and fix his seatbelt.
“Happy?” He spoke sardonically and you scan your eyes over him and grin.
“Yes. Just remember not to go over the speed limit.”
This is why he didn’t like to invite you to parties. You act like a mother hen, and him, your baby chick.
You are glued to his side the whole time. He understands this behavior back when you were six, but you’re fucking adults now, when are you gonna grow out of this?
With you by his side, he can’t score on some chicks. Them thinking that you’re his girl, thus extending his dry spell.
But there’s that new girl by the punch tables. Standard hot girl, lean, tanned, long legs, and bleached hair. She’s shyly looking at him, but she’s not exactly being discreet either.
“I’ll get us something to drink.” He pries your fingers one by one from his arm.
“I can come with you.” You suggest hopefully but he’s already heading to the punch table. You head to the side, sitting on an old and broken down cobblestone wall as the night breeze nips your skin. Just smiling and nodding at the people you know while watching the rest of them have fun.
The party is in full blast. There’s a lot of Tourons joining the party too.
You wonder what’s taking Rafe so long.
Deciding it was best to go look for him, you get up from your seat. You brush the dust off your shorts as you tighten the button up that you stole from Rafe’s closet around your body.
Just as you start looking for him, you notice hurried footsteps and cheers from one side of the party. A guy bumps into you but he quickly hooks an arm on your waist to keep you from falling.
“Oops.” He laughs. “Sorry, Y/N!” It was JJ and you watched him run with the others.
“What’s going on?” You mutter.
You hear a sigh next to you and you turn to see Sarah and Kie, looking at the gathered crowd in disappointment. Sarah turns to you with a tired face. “Rafe got in a fight with a Touron.”
They look at you in pity as horror crosses your face. As you run to the fight, they shake their heads. You’re too good for this world.
You run as fast as your legs can carry you, hands pushing people away just to get through.
When you finally do, you see Rafe with a busted lip, his chest squared up and heaving as he looks at his opponent who is barely standing, leaning his weight on some girl you don’t recognize. His face was red in certain places, his eyelids swollen, two nostrils bleeding. Is he missing a tooth? Good God.
Rafe was yelling insults, how this is his island, he’s about to march over when you throw yourself on him, arms tightly wrapping around his torso to keep him from moving.
“Y/N! Fucking let go!” He grips your arms tightly, adrenaline clearly coursing through his veins.
“No! That’s enough!” You say sternly as you bunch his shirt on your fist. “We should go. Please!”
Rafe scoffs. “I said, let go!”
When you only tighten your grip, he curses and throws the guy one last glare before dragging you with him back to his car.
“What were you thinking, beating up that guy?” You say in disbelief as you make him lean against the hood of his car while you dig through your purse.
He curses at you when you dab a wet wipe on his lip.
“If you don’t get in stupid fights, I won’t have to clean you up now, will I?” You reply angrily before slapping his hand away and dabbing gently. You play oblivious to his searing glare. Trying to ignore his hisses when you accidentally dab too roughly.
“Why’d you decide to make that guy a punching bag, anyway?” You ask while smearing a disinfectant ointment on his wound. Your heart beating wildly at your close proximity.
Rafe clicks his tongue. “His girl was flirting with me.”
You look at him in disappointment, making his blood boil. He hates receiving that look, it reminds him of how he constantly fails his father.
“You must have encouraged her too.” You really don’t know when to stop.
“Shut up, alright?” He pushes past you. “It’s not like I knew she had a fucking boyfriend.”
You sigh as you tidy up your kit. Rafe opens the door for you and you take your time in getting in.
“Why’d you have to flirt with all the girls at every party? Can you think with your mind next time and not with your dick?” You mutter under your breath as you glare at nothing in particular, upset that he’s got himself into trouble, and upset that it’s because of a girl. Again.
“That’s it.” Rafe slams the door before you can take a step in, the impact makes you gasp, your fingers nearly crushed by the door. Your eyes are wide and afraid as you look at him. He backs you up until your back is flushed against the door. He rests an arm over your head, as he points a finger dangerously close to your face.
“Rafe-”
“I’m fucking done with your bullshit.” He spoke through gritted teeth. “If you think you have the right to speak to me this way, let me tell you something. You don’t.”
You bite your lower lip, eyes turning glassy as you fight the urge to cry. “I’m just concerned.” Whatever immunity you thought you had from his anger crumbles like sand on the palm of your hand. You’re no exemption from his outbursts, apparently. You’re just like everybody to him.
“I didn’t ask for your concern.” He laughs dryly. “And I don’t care about your stupid crush on me, either.”
Your lips part as you blanch, looking at him in embarrassment and frustration. Your palms sweat as your fingers twitch, wanting nothing else but to get swallowed by the earth.
“Yeah. You think I don’t know about your feelings for me?” He laughs at you before he slams a fist on his car, making you scream and cover your ears in fear. “It’s kinda cute, you know. Watching you chase after me, clean after me, do everything I say like a pathetic puppy waiting for a treat.”
Something inside you snaps. “Stop talking.” You hiccup, tears dripping down your cheeks.
Huh, it’s been a while since he saw those tears.
“Why?” He asks in feign concern. “Am I hurting your feelings?”
“Yes.” You say shamelessly, making him scoff. “I just wanna go home, please,”
Mascara has ruined your pretty makeup, tears wetting your cheeks as your hair sticks on your temples, making you look disheveled and wrecked.
Rafe looks at you blankly as he runs a tongue on his tooth. “Fine.” He runs a hand over his face as he attempts to calm his breathing. He’s tired of your bullshit for today, he’ll deal with you tomorrow. “Let’s get you home.”
He opens the door for you and you get in without sparing him a glance, your shaking hands quickly fastening the seat belt. Rafe looks at you in silence but your eyes are dropped to your feet, adamant on not looking at him.
“You crybaby.” He spoke lowly and you closed your eyes. “Get it through your dumb head, alright? I don’t fucking like you.”
You whimper, arms wrapping around yourself as you shrink away from him.
“Stop doting on me like we’re dating.” He continues. “You’re fucking embarrassing.”
“Just take me home, please.” You sob and for a moment he feels the need to wipe your tears but he stops himself, a frown creases in his brows.
“And don’t fucking boss me around. You’re not my mom.” He slams the door and the rest of the drive is filled with nothing but your sniffles.
The thing about Rafe Cameron is that he’s impulsive. Always speaking his mind without thinking of the consequences. He is very quick to anger yet very quick to calm down after the stimulus vanishes from his line of sight.
You can’t keep up with the shift of his emotions throughout the ride. With him honking at every driver in front of him then suddenly nudging you and pointing at something down the street, laughing like he didn’t just murder you inside. He really doesn’t understand what he’s done. He’s a child and you wanna strangle yourself for ever letting yourself love a man like him.
“Shit, Y/N, calm down.” He groans as he parks outside your house.
You attempt to open the door but he clicks the lock in place.
“Let me out.” You whimper.
He rests his elbow against the door and scratches his chin. “Not until you calm down.”
“I’m calm.” You respond in a shaking voice.
“Uhuh.” He hums as he rakes his eyes over your face. “Can’t take a rejection, princess?”
You don’t respond, hands tightening over your bag.
“We’re not in fucking elementary school anymore.” He props his head against his knuckles as he grins at you. “And I’m not Rafey anymore.”
“I know.” You spoke harshly as your bloodshot eyes stared forward.
He chuckles. “Good, that’s good.”
“Yes. The ‘Rafey’ I know would never hurt me like this. You’re not him, not anymore.” You stare at him blankly. “He’s gone and I can see that now.”
Rafe straightens up in his seat, biting his cheek as he nods at you, though his mind is still trying to wrap around your words.
“Right. It’s good that you get it now.” But why does he suddenly regret all this?
He’s been trying to get you to understand this for the longest time. And now that you finally do, all the challenge between you is gone, and he is lying if what is going to happen after this does not make him anxious. Is this another one of your reverse psychology tricks? You know it always worked on him.
You unbuckle your seatbelt and he clears his throat, swiftly opening his door and races to your side but you beat him to it. He swallows thickly as he shoves his sweating palms in his pocket.
Rafe walks you to your gate but you don’t acknowledge him, even if he pushes the gates open for you. He tries to catch your eyes but he starts to bleed with the background around you, no longer relevant enough to be looked at.
When you lock the gates, he leans on it and watches you turn away and head to your house. Leaving without the usual cheek kisses and “see you laters”
He clears his throat. “Uh…so, tomorrow?” A desperate attempt to keep you with him a little longer.
You pause and you turn to look at him with your face cold and hard, so devoid of emotions. He never thought you’d be capable of holding such a look. “What about tomorrow?”
He grips on the thin metal of your gate, the weathered paint chipping and clinging to his palms. “You said you wanted to check out the ice cream parlor that just opened?” He adds the charming smile he knows you like but your face remains blank.
“I changed my mind.” You start to walk away again but he calls your name and you look at him with a small frown on your eyebrows. You really wanted nothing to do with him anymore, huh?
“I’ll call you later?”
“What for?” You cross your arms and for the first time, he is rendered speechless, his tongue heavy as he racked his brain for a response.
You’re right, what for?
Rafe shrugs while he tugs at his collar. “I don’t know. Don’t you like it when we call?”
You sigh. “Goodbye, Rafe.”
He watches you leave and he tightens his grip on the gate, making the metal dig on his palms.
“Goddammit!”
He messed up. He messed up real bad. And he’s not sure he can still fix this.
Warnings: fluff, implied smut, angst, hurt/comfort, makes you all tingly inside
Announcement: it’s been a while! I got sucked into some books and haven’t written in a few months, but I’m going to try to start being consistent again!
You wiped at your eyes for the dozenth time of the hour, snow clinging to your eyelashes and clouding your vision.
You and Azriel had been sent on a scouting mission, trudging through the snow for hours now. Your assigned target was a group of enchanted autumn court soldiers, but in the relentless weather you hadn’t even gotten a peak of the crazed men.
Stomping further forward, you tried to step into Azriel’s already sunken tracks, but it seemed that by the time you found your footing, the snow had already filled the once dug-out footprints.
“You good?” sounded from in front of you, the only sound to be heard over the roaring wind and snowfall. Azriel was stopped, turning to look at you over his shoulder. You almost recoiled at how unfazed he seemed, suddenly noticing the chattering of your teeth and numbness of your toes tenfold at his unbothered state.
“Just cold. Nothing serious” you waved off, stubbornly trudging forward another step. You suppressed the violent shivers your body had started half an hour ago, refusing to let the SpyMaster see just how miserable you were.
As you got closer to him, you stretched your foot out for a final step. When it made contact with the ground, instead of the fluffy crunch of snow, a shattering sound met your ears. Suddenly, your foot was no longer supported, sending your leg into a substance so cold it burned your skin at impact.
With nothing to grab onto, your body free fell instantly into the freezing water below the surface. Without so much of an “uh o-”, the world was disappearing from in front of you, your eyes being met with nothing but darkness.
At the shrill of the freezing temperature, the only thing your body could do was tense. You didn’t kick, didn’t scream, didn’t fight, it’s like every muscle went into immediate shutdown and numbness. You vaguely felt the feeling of something under your arms before you were surged back up to the land of the breathing.
Something was touching your face. At the whirlwind of motion you just went through, your muddled and frozen brain was struggling to keep up with everything going on. You felt the plushness of snow beneath your back, the wind biting at your cold and wet leathers. “Hey. (Y/n). Please, look at me.” echoed above you. After blinking the frost out of your eyes, you came into focus of a stressed Azriel staring down at you.
His hands were gently brushing up and down your arms as your body involuntarily convulsed from the cold. “Come on. We need to get you warmed up. Just focus on me, angel.” muttered from his lips, his amber gaze still taking in your figure from head to toe, assessing for injuries.
With Azriel’s help, you stiffly rose to your feet after another 30 seconds of examination. Once he deemed you okay to walk, he assisted you into a standing position before wrapping your arm around his neck and trekking forward. “There’s an inn close by we can stay in for the night. It’s just a few miles ahead.” He reassured into your ear, free hand still rubbing up and down your arm for warmth.
After what felt like hours of hobbling, twinkling lights and the smoke from a fireplace appeared in the distance. At the sight, you unwillingly let out a sigh, but with the current situation you realized it came out as more of a whimper. “I know. I know. We’re almost there I promise.” Azriel all but whispered, his free arm coming down to scoop up your legs, taking your body fully into his embrace.
“I’m okay, Az. I can walk” you whispered, teeth chattering so much it sounded like more of a stutter. “You just fell into a frozen lake in the dead of winter. I’m allowed to mother hen for a moment.” he rebuttled, sharp eyes catching yours in a no-nonsense gaze. You couldn’t help the small smile pulling on your lips, Azriel’s eyes taking it in until his lip was lifting slightly as well, pulling out that crease in his cheek you adored.
“Your lips are blue.” he stated, almost to himself as his eyes landed back on your mouth. At the admission, it seemed as if something clicked in him, his head turning and body surging forward once again. With nothing else to do, you lowered your head onto his shoulder and allowed your eyes to close for the remainder of the trip.
When shuffling and the muffled sound of a door closing filled your ears, you slowly raised your head to take in your surroundings. You were still in Azriel’s arms, stood in the middle of a small room. The room was dull, old wooden floors and ancient wallpaper adorning every surface. There was a small dresser, an armoire, a nightstand with a small lamp adorning it, and a very uncomfortable looking bed pushed into the corner.
While it wasn’t extremely inviting, you felt the weight of the world ease off of your shoulders when your eyes caught the hearth of a fireplace across from the bed. Gently rubbing your eyes, you felt Azriel release your legs and set you gently on the floor, his arms staying wrapped around you for assurance before releasing you entirely.
“Let me get the fire started so we can get you warmed up.” he muttered, already set in his task. Your cold fingers started working nimbly at the buttons of your leathers, fighting with each one much harder than you would have if your fingers were behaving properly. You cursed yourself as you failed at the second button, frustrated tears forming in your eyes as your fingers slipped off of the cool metal for the third time.
Right as you went to try again, a warm, textured hand gently laid over yours. “Let me” came from his lips in a whisper, his hand gently pulling yours away from the cursed contraption before he got to work. He slowly undid each button, looking up into your eyes as he worked.
“Would you like me to run you a bath before you change into dry clothes?” he asked, eyes bouncing from your own back down to the buttons repeatedly. You nodded your head eagerly, almost moaning at the thought of sitting in water warmer than -12°.
Once you were freed from the confines of your frozen tunic, Azriel helped you slip off your pants, leaving you in an undershirt and pants that were also frozen. After laying your leathers to dry on the dresser, he made his way to the bathroom.
Instead of feeling useless, you decided to tend to the fire while Azriel was preoccupied. Crouching in front of the hearth, you used the metal poker to stab and adjust the logs to your liking, ignoring the shooting pain in your legs at the squat you were maintaining.
After you were satisfied with the logs, you dropped the poker and wrapped your arms around your knees, resting your head atop them and soaking in the warmth from the flames. After a few seconds of silence, you heard Azriel’s footsteps approaching from behind.
His hand came down to rest on your back, his own legs bringing him into a squat beside you. “The bath is ready. I laid out some clothes for you on the sink.”. You slowly pried your eyes open, taking in his appearance slowly from underneath your lashes. His hand began absentmindedly rubbing up and down on your back soothingly, his soft gaze maintaining your stare.
“Aren’t you cold too?” you muttered, words muffled by your arm pressing into your lips. Azriel’s fingers came up to gently push a strand of hair behind your ear as a soft smile grazed his features once again. “I’ll be okay.” he whispered, grabbing your hands and pulling you to stand once more. “Yell for me if you need anything. I’ll be right here.” passing his lips as he walked you to the bathroom door.
Once in the safety of the bathroom, you felt a warm blush spread over your cheeks. While you undressed, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander to Azriel and his sudden protectiveness of you.
You had been friends with the shadowsinger for years, close enough to share sleepless nights together and find comfort in each other’s presence. While it was mainly a platonic relationship, you sometimes felt a twinge in your heart or an increase in your pulse when he would cuddle up to you. It wasn’t rare for him to seek you out after a long mission and rest in the comfort of your embrace. That’s what friends were for though, right?
As your final piece of wet clothing thudded onto the floor, you dipped your foot into the warm water with a sigh. Azriel had somehow found a bottle of bath oils and dumped them in with the running water, leaving a calming earthy scent wafting throughout the room. As you lowered yourself in, you couldn’t help but let out a groan at the warmth encasing you.
You stayed until the water got lukewarm, scrubbing and relaxing to your hearts content. Once you declared your spa night over, you lifted yourself up, albeit ungracefully, and wrapped yourself in a towel. Reaching for the clothes on the counter, you noticed your usual nightly attire replaced by a large t-shirt with cutouts in the back and some undies.
Back home, Azriel would often slip you one of his t-shirts whenever you complained about how uncomfortable your attire was to sleep in. It seemed like every week he would suddenly have a pile of clothes he no longer wore, coming to your room to drop off his “donations” with a soft smile and a teasing smirk. It didn’t pass on you that each one smelled more and more like him, rising confusion into just howww old each round of t-shirts was. You felt a giddy feeling ignite in your chest at the thoughtfulness of him laying one out for you.
Emerging from the bathroom, you suddenly felt the nerves of wearing so little in Azriel’s presence. Sure, he had seen you in this exact outfit hundreds of times over the years, but something about being in the small confines of the inn made it feel different. Almost like your teenage boyfriend seeing you in your swimsuit for the first time.
You padded lightly over to the fire, Azriel’s head snapping in your direction as you made your way towards him. While you felt a million times better, there was one small issue. You couldn’t clasp the buttons on the back of the shirt. Having a shirt made for Illyrian wings meant two gaping holes in the back, requiring multiple buttons to be clasped for each one to remain closed.
Turning around in front of Azriel, you pulled your damp hair over your shoulder to offer him your back, mewing out a weak “button me?” as you stilled. Gently, his large hands came to rest on the open fabric, pulling and buttoning each one slowly.
“Do you feel any better?” he asked, voice muffled by the concentration he held over the buttons. A wave of shivers went up your spine when his hand brushed the bare skin of your back, an uncontrollable goosebump breaking out in the open space. With a nervous giggle, you squirmed a little at the feeling, a small “so much better” leaving your lips in a sigh.
Once he was satisfied, Azriel gently gripped your wrist and turned you to him. Unbeknownst to you, he had taken the time you spent in the restroom to change, dry himself off, and even heat up some of the soup he had brought in his pack. He wore a simple black t-shirt, tattoos peaking out from the collar, with gray sweatpants. You felt your mouth water slightly at the sight of his shirt stretching over his taught shoulders, choosing to keep your gaze on his face instead.
Pushing down the blush forming on your cheeks, you prayed to the mother Azriel hadn’t caught your ogling, but the small smirk on his face crushed some of that hope. Without warning, he pulled you forward by your wrist, dragging you down into his lap. Your legs rested across his thighs, dangling on his other side, and your arms involuntarily wrapped around his neck. Almost like an instinct.
Azriel wrapped himself around you, one arm coming around your lower back while the other grabbed the back of your head gently, pulling you into him as he buried his face in your neck. You felt him take a deep inhale, his shoulders relaxing under your grip, before he muttered out an “I thought I lost you today.” against the skin of your shoulder. You let your eyes close and your body relax, pushing your face further into his collar like he did yours. An overwhelming scent of pinewood and man invaded your senses, immediately relaxing you and making you crave more.
“I’m sorry Azzie” you whispered, tightening your grip around his shoulders. “I should have paid more attention to where I was stepping.” following your confession as you slowly pulled back to meet his gaze. His eyes immediately found yours, amber glowing in the firelight as they took in your small, apologetic smile. His gaze searched your face for what felt like centuries, eyes catching on your mouth as you unknowingly bit down on your lip before his brows furrowed and a frustrated look took over his features.
“I-uh. I’m going to go get some water.” he rushed out, gently pushing you off of him and standing, leaving you with a pang in your chest. You watched his figure retreat to the door, brows furrowed and silent curiosity taking over when he didn’t even look back at you before he walked out, closing the door behind him.
After slurping down the rest of your soup, your eyes started to close tiredly as you sat patiently on the bed for Azriel’s return. He had only been gone for half an hour, but something in your chest was aching at his absence. Had you done something? Said something? You had been racking your brain endlessly for any hint as to what his distaste could be from, but were coming up empty.
Feeling the beginnings of a headache coming on, you grabbed a pillow and small blanket from the bed before setting up your spot on the floor. Mother forgive if Azriel couldn’t even look at you and you forced him into sharing a bed. He had to be just as exhausted as you, and rather than face the awkward encounter when he returned, you decided to make the decision for the both of you.
Tucking yourself into the thin blanket, you laid your head on the pillow and closed your eyes. The only sounds in the room were the occasional dripping of the bathroom sink, and the cracking of the fire in the hearth. If you hadn’t have been so in your head, it would have been oddly relaxing. Well, relaxing for having your hip stabbing into the hardwood…
Somehow, sleep took over you, the crackling and dripping dwindling into silence as your body fully relaxed into the darkness. It felt like you had only dozed off for a few moments when you heard the door shut quietly on the other side of the room. You had laid out your palette in front of the fireplace, so whoever entered got a good look at your back upon entering the room.
Deciding you didn’t want to face the impending awkwardness, you remained still with your back turned to the door as you tried to listen for Azriel’s movements. He stepped a few feet into the room before you heard his footsteps pause, a quiet “Oh, angel.” coming from him before his footsteps resumed. You heard his footsteps carry over to the nightstand, something sounding like glass being sat atop of it, before he was on the move again.
Realizing he was coming towards you, you quickly shut your eyes and relaxed your features into the likes of sleeping. You knew it was childish, but you had no idea what to say after Azriel’s obvious discomfort. Maybe he would assume you were asleep and leave you be, everything going back to normal once the sun was shining and everyone was fully rested.
Those prayers were squashed when you felt his footsteps come right behind you, a thud escaping from the sound of his knees meeting the hardwood. He gently rolled you onto your back, his hands being as gentle as always with grabbing your shoulder and waist to assist him. Now that he was moving you, there was no way you could fake sleep without it being obvious, so you slowly peeled your eyes open to look up at him.
His gaze was saddened as he took in your features, his hand coming to rest on your cheek as his brows furrowed, leaving a crease between his brows. You blinked a few times to clear the fog, eyebrows raising in question as he stared down at you. “Why are you on the floor, angel?” he whispered, finger grazing your cheek gently as he awaited your reply.
You took a few seconds to generate a response, teeth taking claim to your lower lip as you weighed out your response. His amber eyes watched your movement for a second before coming back up to meet your own.
“I. I thought you were upset or uncomfortable or- I just. I didn’t want to force you to share a bed with me.” coming out weakly, your voice scratchy and worn from the sudden awaking from your slumber. You felt embarrassed at the admission, slowly tearing your gaze from his to look beside you at the fire.
At the turn of your head, his fingers gently found your chin before making you look up at him. “Force me?” rushed past his lips in an astounded tone, his frown getting even deeper at the thought. “Angel, I don’t give a damn how upset I seem.. Never. Ever. make excuses for me if it affects your well-being.” he demanded, eyes not leaving yours as he continued. “I could never be upset with you, angel. Never” his voice started out strong, but by the end of his sentence his voice came out more strangled than you had ever heard him.
Scrunching your brows in even more confusion, you opened your mouth to reply but couldn’t muster up a reply. When your mouth gently closed again, Azriel began sliding his arms underneath you, quick to scoop you off of the floor.
“Az- wait. It’s fine. I was comfortable.” you rushed out, fighting his grip to go back to your spot on the thin blanket. A scoff left his lips as he rounded the bed, gently sitting you down before turning your chin to him once again. “Gods this is all my fault” he muttered to himself before backing away from you again, going to grab the pillow and blanket off of the floor before returning to your bedside.
He gently ushered you to the other side of the bed, between him and the wall, before tucking you in and making sure you were fully covered. Once he was satisfied, he lowered himself into the bed, covering himself before propping his head on his hand to look at you.
Feeling nervous, you slowly began to roll the opposite way, hating the way his eye contact affected you. His hand shot out to grab your wrist at your movements, gently pulling you back around to face him as he scooted closer to you.
“I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t mean to make you think I was upset with you.” he whispered, a serious concern taking over his features. Both of his hands came out to cup your face, his face so close to yours you could see the flecks of amber in his irises.
You pondered your response for a millisecond, deciding to just be honest. Wrapping your hands around his wrists, you admitted, “It just seemed like you were angry with me by the way you left the room. Its okay. We can just go to bed and talk about it tomorrow.” you offered, a slight smile taking over your lips in reassurance.
Azriel groaned, dropping his forehead to connect with your collarbone before letting out a pained “Fuck, angel. You’re killing me.”. He slowly lifted his gaze back up to you before a saddened look took over his features as he took you in. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?” brushed past his lips as his thumbs rubbed soothing lines under your eyes.
Feeling a sudden wave of boldness, you let out a weak “show me, then.”, eyes staring deeply into his. You felt your heart rate pick up in anticipation, a flutter raising into your chest at the close proximity. At your words, Azriel let out a deep growl, hands sliding to the back of your head to lace into your hair. He cursed under his breath before exhaling, and the next thing you know his lips were on yours.
Azriel kissed you like a man starved. He craned your neck back for better access, kissing you deeper than before. His tongue invaded your mouth, your hands instinctively coming up to grip his t-shirt, eliciting another growl from him. As his kiss grew more desperate, you clung to him. A small throbbing began in your lower abdomen, a whine being pulled from your lips as Azriel ravished you.
He pulled back from you slightly, growling a quick “you have no idea how long I’ve needed this, baby.” before he pulled you back into him, one of his hands leaving your hair to graze down to your hip. Suddenly, he gripped your thigh, pulling it to rest over his hip before angling you to where he was slightly above you.
You moaned at the feeling of his length pressed against your core, his member already hardened from the short exchange. With a few thrusts of his hips, you were a whining mess, thoughts clouded and lips swollen from the intensity.
Just as he came down to kiss you again, a soft whine sound escaping from his throat as his dick grazed your center again, there was an overwhelming tug in your chest. A tug so tight and so intense it had you gasping at the feeling. Just when you thought your heart was about to explode, an invisible golden string appeared, tying you to the man above you.
“You- you’re. You’re my. My mate?” came from you in a rushed intensity, eyes flying open to meet Azriel’s piercing gaze.
The room was stiff, the air feeling muggy as you coughed for the third time in a minute. Your body rattled as you shook, a few stray tears forming in your eyes at the pressure.
Once you had finally come down from your fit, you flipped onto your other side, finding it almost impossible to find a comfortable position.
Your whole body ached, your muscles tired and sore, your head pounding and eyes strained from the pressure behind them. It hurt to swallow, and you found breathing to be a little more difficult than normal.
You had just returned from a mission two days ago, sent to the Illyrian war camps to bare witness to an illness spreading throughout, your job to find out as much about it as possible. While it had seemed like an average cold, you knew that growing sick in your fae body meant that it was rather serious, your body taking longer to fight it off than normal.
When you returned, you tried to fight off the sluggish feeling, going through your daily routine as normal. At training, Azriel pointed out the strange behavior you expelled, questioning your slow movements and over the top sneezing, but you just brushed it off.
“I’m serious (Y/N). What’s up with you?” he questioned, peering at you through narrow eyes as you failed to block yet another jab from him. “I’m fine Azriel. Seriously. Stop worrying about me.” you pleaded, begging the mother above that he would drop it.
You weren’t afraid of people pitying you, actually finding some sort of comfort in the care your family showed you in times of need. What you did fear, however, was Azriel’s reaction to finding out you were ill. You knew he would take it over the top. He would skip training, lose sleep, fight off a million germs one by one if he had to until you got better. While it made a flutter rise in your chest at the thought, you really didn’t want to inconvenience him and his duties, instead choosing to fight this battle on your own (with a little help from Amren).
Amren had been stopping by a few times a day, bringing you soup and tea. Your awareness of a certain shadow boys reaction is what led you to holing yourself up in the townhouse, nobody else being around now that the new house was finished. You hadn’t chosen Amren as your accomplice purposely, instead being forced to beg her to keep your secret when she dropped by the townhouse for a book she forgot unexpectedly. She narrowed her eyes when she saw you bundled in blankets, eyes droopy as you fought sleep.
“Why are you hiding here, girl?” she muttered, walking up to you and resting the back of her hand on your forehead. “Didn’t want everyone to coddle me.” you rasped, your throat sore from the incessant coughing. In the past two days, she had continued her visits, only staying long enough to drop off the goods before she left, almost always muttering something about a stressed shadowboy under her breath.
You had just dozed off, your body shivering under the blankets involuntarily at the chill that swept through you. You were clammy, almost sweating from the heat roaming from the fireplace across from the couch you laid on, but no matter how hot you were the cold feeling just wouldn’t go away.
As your eyelids drooped closed, you heard a shift of movement behind you. Slowly raising your head, you turned to find a pair of amber eyes gleaming at you from the doorway, shadows filtering away from his body and revealing his fighting leathers. You blinked, really slowly, as you took in his appearance. His hair was messy, strands curling onto his forehead and pushed back like his hands had been running through it. His lip had a slight cut in it, and the bags under his eyes were heavy as he stared at you.
Just as you were about to speak, a cough tore through you, wheezing and shaking as it broke through your throat. When it finally calmed, you turned to reach for the tea on the side table, stopping short when a scarred hand held it out for you.
Too exhausted to be surprised at the sudden closeness, you took a few sips before bringing it down to rest on your chest, your eyes falling closed soothingly. The mug was carefully raised from your hands, the clink of the glass hitting the table making you crack an eye open.
As you peeked at him, Azriel took in your appearance. The tissues laying about, your hair pulled into a messy braid, the bags under your eyes, the slight red tip of your nose. He didn’t linger on the thin straps of your nightgown poking over the top of the blanket though, that’s for sure.
After his assessment, he raised his gaze to meet yours, muttering a “I knew she was lying.” before he raised his hand towards your face. He seemed to pause, his gaze landing on his hand as it reached for you, before dropping it slightly. To reassure him, you raised your chin, forehead coming up slightly to give him better access.
At your approval, he rested his hand ever so gently against your forehead, sighing when he felt how warm you were. His cool hand sent a wave of relief down your spine, your shoulders unintentionally sagging as your eyes flew shut, your sigh mingling with his at the contact.
When he went to pull away, your hand shot up. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist and pulled, bringing it down to your cheek instead. You felt his other hand come to rest on the opposite cheek as he slipped onto the edge of the couch beside you. A broken sound left your lips at the feeling of his cold hands, and you thought you imagined the feeling of his thumbs gently brushing across your cheekbones.
“Your hands feel so good.” slipped through your lips in a whisper, eyes fluttering back open to meet his. His lip twitched slightly upwards, the crease in his cheek appearing at his light smile. You could’ve sworn you saw a faint blush on his cheeks, but the thought quickly passed as you felt another cough rumbling in your chest.
Pushing his hands away, you brought the blanket up over your face as you rasped out another cough. Azriels hands found your back as you leaned forward, rubbing up and down soothingly until it passed. As you straightened up, his eyes caught the half-eaten bowl of soup on the table. “I’ll be right back.” he whispered, pushing a stray hair behind your ear. “Stay here.” passing his lips quickly as he stood, long legs striding for the kitchen.
“Hey.” sounded from above you, a frustrated groan leaving your lips at the interruption. You had dozed off again, head lolling to the side, laying against the armrest. The blanket had dropped to your lap, your arms tucked underneath your head for support. “I brought you some soup, (Y/N/N)”. At the sound of his voice, you forced yourself awake, slowly rising from your position to sit up. His hand found the underside of your arm, helping you gently as he came to sit beside you again.
After you got down some of the soup, Azriel took the bowl from you again, laying it on the table before turning to you. “Let me take you to the bed.” came from him in a mutter, already standing and reaching his hands out to you.
As you stood, you felt Azriels arms grip behind your knees and your head as he scooped you up bridal style, heading for the staircase. Once he got to the top floor, he swiftly kicked open your door, turning to the side to carry you through the doorway. Once inside, he gently sat you on the bed, only pulling away long enough to grab something off of the dresser before he was crawling behind you.
At the feeling of his hands in your hair, you let your body fully relax, reveling at the comfort of him undoing your braid. Once it was completely undone, he combed through the strands gently before braiding them back up. He stood from the bed, pulling back the covers for you as you ushered up to the pillows. Leaning down to peck your forehead, he whispered a “get some rest” before he pulled away.
Before he could get far, you reached out to him, your fingers grazing his as he stopped to listen. “Will you lay with me?” tumbled past your lips before you could think. At the realization of your words, you quickly backtracked with an “Oh. Nevermind. Sorry. I don’t want you to get sick.”, turning to roll in the other direction to hide the blush on your cheeks from his piercing gaze.
You heard shuffling behind you, followed by a few thuds, before rough hands were pushing you gently, forcing you to scoot towards the other side of the bed. Once you moved, you felt the bed shifting behind you, and a soft sigh from Azriel’s lips as he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled your back to his front. At the feeling of his bare chest against your back, the clammy feverish feeling quickly disappeared, leaving you to sigh in relief as well.
Turning in his hold, you laid a hand on his chest, your gaze sliding up to meet his. “I really don’t want to get you sick, Az.” came from your lips in a whisper, your brows crunching in concern. The hand he had around your waist slowly rose, his thumb coming up to smooth out the wrinkle in your brow, before he lowered it back down to lay on your neck. You couldn’t help the shiver that ran through you at the feeling, Azriel’s thumb slowly starting to work in smooth circles against your collar bone.
“Should have told me you didn’t feel well.” grumbled from him as he pulled you closer, his face coming to rest in your neck, taking a deep inhale. He groaned in content, pulling you impossibly closer again, before raising his head back up to meet your eyes. “Don’t lie to me again.” he spoke, his voice hard in seriousness, contrasting to the gentle caresses still happening on your neck.
“I didn’t want you to worry.” flew from your lips in defense, your voice still raspy from the coughs. “You have more important things to worry about than me having a silly cold.” tumbled out shortly after, an almost pout taking over your features. He huffed, eyes hardening as he took in your face, eyes shooting from your lips to your eyes. Suddenly, the hand on you neck worked around to the back, wrapping in your hair and pulling your head back, and his lips met yours.
The kiss was lazy and urgent. Slow and demanding. Azriel taking his time in exploring your mouth. He worked his lips against yours, the hand in your hair tightening as he pulled your head back further. His other hand went up your nightgown in the back, palm laying flat against your spine to arch you further into him. A soft noise rose from the back of your throat, hands resting on his bare shoulders, before he pulled away. Sharp, jagged, breaths met your short pants, a growl rising from his throat as he leaned back in.
After another heated round of kissing, Azriel pulled away, looked into your eyes, and growled
Description: Things between you and Azriel had been going great, until he comes home from a mission wrapped around another. Realizing it wasn't as serious to him, you run. Just intending to take a walk, things go south when you realize you're in trouble... and the shadowsinger might just not care.
Tags/ Warnings: Angst, injury, hurt/comfort, Azriel is a meanie, Cassian being Cassian.
Smoothing the skirts of your gown, your gaze couldn't help but fall on the necklace you hadn't taken off in weeks. Azriel had gifted it to you for solstice, the blue of the gem looking suspiciously similar to that of his siphons.
You wouldn't say you were courting, per se. Your relationship had simply bloomed on its own into something neither of you had ever bothered to name.
Your fingers drifted over the stone's surface, and for the first time all day, the tightness in your shoulders began to ease. Azriel was meant to be home tonight.
It was no surprise to you that Rhysand had deemed Azriel's mission over the same night he intended to host a feast for the inner circle and outside friends. According to your High Lord, Azriel was due back any moment now, the details of his mission unbeknownst to you. You were just excited to see him.
Azriel had gone on a few missions since this relationship had intensified, the male always seeking you out the second his feet touched down on the balcony of the house of wind.
You hadn't intended to miss him so much. Things were still fairly new, and to feel this attached to him was almost alarming. You weren't used to having someone to wait for, unsure if you should act overly joyful at his return or a little more nonchalant.
Shaking your head for some clarity, you let your gaze fall upon your figure one last time. You had chosen the best getup you had available for the occasion, something in you itching to see the reaction of the shadowsinger. The dark fabric and intricate lace might have been on purpose to reference his shadows, but that was insignificant.
He always took you in appreciatively, whether in a nightgown or training leathers, his gaze slowly dropping to your feet before rising to your face. You felt your cheeks heat at the memory of the way his eyes darkened when landing on you.
Finally tearing your gaze from the mirror, you cleared your throat from the intensity before making your way out of your bed chambers.
The violins grew louder as you neared the party, your shoes clicking lightly against the stone of the ground beneath you. Finally catching sight of a few guests, you sighed in relief when your eyes fell on Mor already chatting up a familiar looking couple.
Timidly approaching her, you let your hand meet her arm before she turned to look at you, her gaze lighting up immediately at the recognition.
"Finally! I was starting to think you weren't coming!"
You giggled as her arms wrapped around your neck, her stance slightly wobbly likely from the wine glass already clutched in her fire red nails.
"I see someone has already cracked open the wine..."
She lightly smacked at your still outstretched hand, the glass sloshing lightly at her movements. Pulling entirely away from the couple she was previously speaking to, she wrapped her arm around yours before leading you deeper into the party.
"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I know you're just itching for a glass yourself." She huffed, heels clacking along as she kept her pace beside you.
An hour or two later, you were three glasses in, watching amusedly as Cassian reenacted an interaction he had in the market earlier this week.
"I don't understand why it's so laughable that I, warlord and killer of men, would be interested in personal hygiene?! You should've seen the females giggling from the stall over!"
A content laughter settled among the few fae around him, his expression exaggerated as if waiting for someone to answer his rhetorical question. Just when he seemed ready to continue, his posture stiffened at something he was seeing behind your back.
Furrowing your brows in confusion, you went to look behind you when Cassian's hand suddenly landed on your shoulder.
"Hey! Why don't we- uh- would you like to come get a drink with me?"
You could see the nervous gulp trail down his throat as his gaze searched yours, his eyebrows lifted almost in a plead as he gently pulled you toward him. Glancing down at your almost full wine glass, you lifted your gaze back to him confused, raising it slightly to catch his attention. It would have almost been comical if he didn't look so close to soiling his trousers.
"Not you, silly! Me! I need a drink, you know, all this 'working the crowd' has really dried out my thr-"
His plead was interrupted by a few gasps from the fae around you, your attention quickly snapping back to the situation at hand. Just as you went to turn around a second time, Cassian quickly pulled you again, your wine splashing over the rim and onto your fingers.
"Hey! What is going on with you? What is everyone starting at-"
Just as the words passed your lips, your gaze finally landed behind you. Across the party, an unmistakable spymaster was stood in the crowd. Feeling your pulse increase at his presence, you let your body fully turn in his direction, eager to greet him.
You were stopped in your tracks as your gaze lowered, your feet coming to an abrupt halt when you noticed a manicured hand wrapped around his bicep. Eyes quickly shooting to his right, you felt your heart stop entirely as your eyes fell on a beautiful fae woman. His eyes were on her as she laughed, her gaze more than friendly as she looked up at him.
All you could manage was a small "Oh." as Cassian appeared at your side, his hand finding your arm and tugging again.
Letting him steer you away from the sight, the gears in your mind began turning as you walked with him to his unknown destination. Voices invaded your mind, whispers from the party guests. Statements along the lines of "Azriel never brings a female" or "I wonder if he has found his mate". You only snapped out of your spiral momentarily when you heard a door shut behind you.
"Look y/n. I know what it looks like. Just listen to me-"
You raised your hand abruptly, cutting him off.
"What it looks like? Cass, it's what it is. You don't have to try and spare my feelings."
Cassian ran a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips.
"No y/n seriously. Let me explain."
You took in his devastated features, matching his look with your own. How awful that Cassian would have to be the one to let you down easily, his own brother too occupied to reject you himself.
"No Cass. It's fine. You don't have to explain for him."
You quickly turned away from him, dropping your glass on a nearby table. You didn't realize you were crying until you caught your reflection in the mirror above it, tears trailing through the makeup you had spent hours perfecting.
Steeling yourself in the reflection, you didn't let Cassian speak another word before you were gone. The rage and utter betrayal in your mind blending into one tainted landscape. Where the winds matched the ice you felt in your veins, the temperatures as brutal as the thrum in your heart.
Landing on your knees, you didn't even have to look up to know where you had landed. The snow cushioned your fall, pooling around the skirts of your gown. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared, watching as a thin layer of sleet covered your lap almost instantly.
Letting your hands fall to your sides, your fingers didn't even flinch as they came in contact with the freezing sludge beneath you. You just sat there, letting your body become one with the elements and bring you back to reality.
It didn't take long before you felt the biting chill racing across your skin, your gown not doing anything to shield from the biting winds. It was refreshing.
This place was not unfamiliar. You had been here before, many times. When you had nightmares, when you were so overwhelmed with emotion you couldn't escape, your mind always conjured you here. You don't know why, but the place that once seemed to frighten you was now calling with open arms. The one place nobody knew. The place of your deepest fears, now becoming your sanctuary.
Nobody would be crazy enough to follow you out here. Even if they somehow knew where you were.
It felt like hours had passed when you finally stood. Body uncontrollably jerking with the cold, you forced yourself onto unsteady feet. Letting your gaze fall on your destination, you took in the twisted black trees and steady downpour of sleet. The hairs on the back of your neck immediately stood. Something was watching from the darkness.
Whipping around at a cracking twig beside you, your hands immediately raised in defense, body tightening with anticipation. Feeling your breaths tumble past your lips, you couldn't help the jumps in your muscles from the freezing temperatures. As you squinted through the snowfall, you made out a large figure twisting its' way through the forest.
You jumped when you heard another sound behind you, forcing you to take your eyes off the first creature and check your blindspot in case of an ambush. Not seeing anything, you quickly whipped your head back to the original threat, but were shocked into a gasp when the creature appeared right in front of you. Tripping over your own feet, you gathered your skirts in your hand and ran.
Jumping over roots, ankles twisting and bending at awkward angles, you ran through the snow as fast as you could. Your toes were numb as the snow soaked through your slippers, making it even harder to measure your steps. You checked behind you every few steps, anguish crawling up your throat in a scream as you realized it was gaining on you faster than you anticipated.
Deciding running wasn't going to save you, you swallowed your fear and stopped your steps. Whipping around, you prepared to strike at the monster on your heels. A shudder crashed through you at the sight of it.
It was nothing you had ever seen before. A large reptile-like head rested on an even larger body, the moon glinting off of massive claws digging into the slush before you. It's long serpent-like neck twisted and turned as it looked at you, teeth baring and tongue lashing curiously as it sized you up.
You didn't even have a chance to take in the creature before it was pouncing, teeth chomping at the space your head was just in. Dodging, you tucked and weaved as quickly as you could to dodge its' blows. As you danced around the creature, you could hear its' voice in hissing whispers, and one of them made you stop dead in your tracks.
"The Ssssspymasssterssss mate!"
You could only stare as its' tongue flicked with each 'S', a pang of confusion almost knocking you back harder than one of the creature's blows.
Your moment of pause would cost you.
Before you could even utter a word, one of the creatures scaled legs soared, its claws sinking right into your side. You could feel as each claw pushed through your ribs, nothing but a small wheeze escaping as you held the intense eye contact. The searing pain was nothing compared to the memory you'd have of those eyes, holding your own like it never wanted you to forget. Your body had no choice but to collapse where you stood, the world blurring until you were looking up at the sky above you. You could barely make out a scaled tail whipping above you as the creature slipped into the night.
Your hand clutched your side, white hot pain shooting through you. You sucked in a ragged breath, only for it to catch as fluid invaded your lungs. A harsh cough wracked your body, your body convulsing and warm liquid spilling out onto your face.
Trying and failing to suck in a full breath, your battered body jerked and pulsed with the pain, your vision becoming hazy for a moment before focusing back on the night sky. You could feel the sleet hitting your face harshly, forcing your eyes to blink rapidly.
The wind howled around you, the once still trees looking alive as the rays of the moon slipped between their branches. You could hear the whistle of the wind through them, creaks and groans echoing around you at the pressure pushing against them.
Just as your vision blurred a second time, you thought you heard something. Your fae ears twitched, straining against the raging winds around you. Hope bloomed in your chest, fragile, as you listened.
There it was.
Faint at first, then louder.
"Y/n!" a voice bellowed through the trees. "Answer me, sweetheart!"
Your heart lurched.
Azriel.
Every instinct urged you to call out, to let him know you were here and you needed him. You opened your mouth, but only a weak broken gurgle escaped past the blood on your lips. Pain ripped through your chest.
You didn't realize you were crying until you felt the shrill trail of tears down your temples, the realization that Azriel wouldn't find you in time bringing a rough cry past your lips.
Your heart lurched a second time as another shout cut through the trees.
"Y/n?" His voice cracked with panic. "I hear you, baby."
Footsteps thundered through the forest, growing closer with every passing second, branches snapping beneath his steps. Shadows stirred between the trees, racing ahead of their master.
"I'm coming." he called, breathless. "Hold on for me. I'm coming."
Your blurry gaze catches a movement in the tree line before you, branches separating and snow falling as a tall figure bursts through. Before you can even orient yourself Azriel has landed on his knees beside you, the glow of his siphons drawing your focus to his chest.
Hands come up to cradle your face, your eyes flickering to his own as his head blocks your line of sight to the sky above. You can feel the trail of blood running down your chin when you attempt to smile up at him.
You can feel his hands leave your face as he assesses your body, another gurgle coming from you when his hand comes in contact with the wound on your side.
“I know, baby. I’m sorry.” he coos, his free hand coming back up to wipe at the tears rolling down your temple.
Your hand comes up to grab at his resting on your hair now, your own blood coating your fingers visible in your peripheral.
A broken sound leaves his lips as you choke once again, an almost feral growl you had never heard from him before.
His shadows slowly start to surround you, and before you can attempt another breath, his face steeles into one of resolve.
“I’m going to winnow you. I have to get you back to Velaris so Madja can help.” his hands automatically start moving to hold your body to his, one sliding beneath your back and the other cradling the back of your head.
At the movement, you can’t help the wince that tumbles past your lips.
“I know it hurts, sweetheart. But you have to stay with me, okay? Can you do that for me?” his eyes are pleading when he locks them with your own, his breaths trembling.
With as much of a nod as you can muster, you brace yourself for the pain about to consume you.
Azriel brings your body to his, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. You watch in awe as the shadows surround you fully. You had never been surrounded by such complete and utter darkness.
You can hear Azriel talking to you, a repeated “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry” passing through your ears as the world around you disappears.
With the warp through time, you can feel your entire being teetering over the edge of life and death. The pressure on your limbs is so strong you can do nothing but hold your breath, praying to the mother that you make it to the other side.
Azriel might love another, but you still have friends, a family waiting for you. Even though your heart was on the verge of breaking, you still had hope. Hope for happiness and a future where you didn’t feel like this.
Just as a bright white began taking over your vision, Azriel clutching to you like he would never let go again, the shadows dissipated. You could feel the coolness of their embrace leave you suddenly, before your consciousness began to fade.
Muffled in the background, you could hear Azriel yelling. “Get Madja! She doesn’t have much longer. She can’t breathe.” tore through his lips as your body transferred from his to a softer surface. You finally could let your mind relax.
The first thing to return to you was sound. You could hear the faint crackling in the hearth, a soft sound coming from the fae lights around you. Letting your ears tune into the new environment, your fingers began searching of their own volition.
A soft, familiar texture smoothed under your fingertips, the warmth of the comforter feeling foreign after so long in the cold.
Clearing your throat, your eyes immediately popped open when you realized that there was no longer anything interfering with your breaths.
It took a moment for your vision to clear, almost as if the sleet had to clear away before you could fully take in your surroundings. Slowly sitting up, you winced at the pinch in your side.
Your brows furrowed as you realized that this was not your room. The dark bedding and wall of daggers gave you a good idea of whose bed you were occupying, but you weren’t sure why.
Realizing you were alone in the room, you forced your legs to swing over the side of the bed, the grunt of effort an added reminder of the trauma your body had gone through.
You didn’t even stop to take in your appearance, which you were sure had been cleaned up by some form of magic, before tiptoeing through the cracked bedroom door.
It took a couple of stops against the wall before you began hearing muffled voices in the dining room. Your fae healing had gotten you this far, but you weren’t entirely confident in your own movements.
Steeling yourself and taking a calming breath, you prepared yourself to see the Illyrian you were sure held your broken heart in his own two, scarred, hands. Right as you were about to round the corner, you stopped again when you heard the smooth timbre of his voice rumbling through the room.
“And nobody thought to fucking tell her that?”
Realizing you were the topic of discussion, you decided to stop the inevitable and make your presence known. You only made it two steps into the room before every head snapped in your direction, and another two before your body was brutally crushed into an embrace.
“Oh, thank the mother! I am so glad you’re alr- wai- what are you doing out of bed?!” Mor’s voice screeched against your ear. You could only wince as she bombarded you, her arms immediately pulling back as she jerked herself away from you.
You only smiled apologetically at her as her expression filled with guilt. It only took two seconds before that look turned into one of gratitude, her body coming in to hug you a lot more gently the second time around.
A round of agreements and scolds met you as Mor finally released you, your gaze jumping around the room to take in the entire inner circle. Out of nerves, your eyes purposely avoided the darkest corner of the room.
You could feel the cool drag of shadows as they assessed your frame, only steeling yourself further until they were content and sliding back to their master.
As all eyes stayed locked on your form, you finally cleared your throat once more before letting out a scratchy “Anyone got any water?”
After what felt like hours, you had finally finished explaining every detail of your mishap with the serpent like creature. Leaving out the tidbit about your rescue, everyone seemed content enough to begin parting for their own duties. With an order to rest and hydrate, you also turned to leave the dining room when a deep voice stopped you in your tracks.
“Can we talk?”
Your body felt frozen as you took in his voice. A mixture of exhaustion and sadness finding you from across the room.
Keeping your back turned to him, you let everybody else pass you by before swallowing your nerves and turning to face him.
You could only bring yourself to look at his chest, his fighting leathers now traded for a black shirt and trousers. You could see the daunting outline of his wings behind him, your fingers immediately coming to twist in front of you.
You tucked a stray hair behind your ear, gaze dropping as you waited for him to break the silence.
It took a few long moments, but the first words to leave him almost had your mouth dropping in shock.
“Can you look at me please?”
Your eyes immediately lifted to his own, a frown of confusion painting your face when you took in the sight of him.
His hair was disheveled as if he had been vigorously running his fingers through it, his under eyes dark and a shadow forming on the lower half of his face.
Just as you went to blurt out something, anything, his form crossed the room. He looked almost afraid to get too close to you, choosing instead to stop with a good yard of distance between you.
Your eyes flickered between his own as you processed your thoughts, unsure what you were really supposed to say. Before you could get out a word, his rough voice stopped you again.
“How are you feeling?”
You were a bit taken aback by his question. A few embarrassing stutters leaving you before you finally coughed up a quick “Good. I feel pretty good.”
Your fingers kept violently twisting as he eyed you up and down, your brain bouncing a million different questions around before it finally settled on one.
You didn’t even have a moment to second guess before the words were forcing past your lips.
“Am I your mate?”
A look of certain shock passed over Azriel’s face before he steeled himself again, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. His hand came up to run through his hair as his face portrayed the inner turmoil clearly a jumbled mess in his brain.
“I only ask because before that… snake thing… attacked me it hissed out something along the lines of ‘the spymaster’s mate’ and it really confused me because after the party I’m not really sure what’s going on. I understand if you were planning to reject the bond for that female but why string me along before then, you know? I thought something was forming between us but now I think I might have just been exaggerating things in my own mind- I mean, that woman was beautiful, and I understand why you would choose her over me but-“
You only stopped to take a breath as Azriel roared a growl, your body flinching back as he whirled towards the dining table. He looked as if he was about to break something before his hand came up to rub at his chest.
Your shocked gaze stared at his back as his shoulders heaved, his wings twitching wildly before pulling tightly back into their normal position.
A sigh that carried the weight of the world left him before he whirled back around, his legs taking two more steps toward you. His hand reached out as if to touch you before he seemingly thought better of it and brought it back to pinch at the bridge of his nose instead.
“Reject you? Y/n, please, you’re killing me.” his face held nothing but anguish as he brought his gaze back up to meet yours. “Rhysand asked me to escort that female to the party. She was linked to some Illyrian’s we’ve been monitoring and he wanted me to get more intel. Fuck, I would’ve never- I never- Cassian was supposed to tell you. He was supposed to tell you before the party started but he was too busy following Nesta around like a lost pu- oh fuck this.”
He seemed to decide against the last part of his explanation before he closed the rest of the distance between you. Your breath caught at the proximity when his hands came up to cradle your jaw, his eyes piercing yours as a confused furrow took over your brow.
Without realizing, your hands came up to grip his forearms, your eyes fleeting between his own as you processed his words.
His body only pressed closer to yours as you hesitated, the gears running a mile a minute in your mind.
“I swear to you, y/n. There is no one else in this galaxy I would’ve rather been with than you. I hate that you even questioned my feelings for you. I’m yours. I have been since the day we met.”
His eyes only intensified his words as you searched them, the gold flecks throughout his orbs almost glowing as they locked with yours.
You felt the trail of a tear before you could stop it, your lip wobbling for a reason unbeknownst to you. Azriel was quick to wipe it away, his forehead coming down to rest against yours. His voice lowered to a whisper as he continued.
“I almost lost it when I heard you were missing. I don’t even remember leaving the party or how I knew where to find you. I would tear this world apart inch by inch if it meant keeping you safe, sweetheart. I promise you that.”
Your breath shuddered through a gasp as more tears made their way down your cheeks. Letting your eyes fall closed, you shook your head against his before meeting his gaze again.
“So basically you’re saying that my disappearance was a slight overreaction?” you whispered, your teeth finding your lip as you waited for his reaction, a smile threatening to break out on your face.
Azriel shuddered a laugh of disbelief, his hands pulling you fully into his embrace. You could’ve sworn you saw a slight wetness in his eyes before your face was tucked firmly into his neck.
You and Azriel had reluctantly split after your embrace caused a sudden twinge in your side, his warmth immediately turning into panic at the wince that left your lips.
You had parted with the promise that you would get some rest before finding him in the morning to finish your conversation.
Flipping harshly onto your other side, you sighed in frustration as sleep continued to evade you. Every time you closed your eyes you saw manicured nails, serpent like eyes, and the look on Azriel’s face as it assessed your form on the floor of the woods. Also, the mantra of mate, mate, mate playing on a loop in your mind didn’t help.
Kicking the blankets off of your legs, you didn’t give yourself time to rethink your movements as you tiptoed out of your bedroom and towards Azriel’s. Pausing at his door, you let your knuckles lightly tap the surface before you heard a quick “Come in”.
Pushing past the threshold, you let the door close behind you before you made yourself as small as possible in his doorway. Wringing your fingers again, you slowly gazed up at Azriel, sitting wide awake in bed with a book resting on his chest.
You twisted your mouth in contemplation before letting out a small “I can’t sleep.”, your gaze dropping to your bare feet before snapping back up at the sound of rustling blankets.
Azriel had lifted his duvet, his body sliding further into the bed as he gestured for you to join him.
Shyly stalking towards his bed, you gently climbed into the open space next to him before his hands immediately made contact and brought you into his embrace.
The position almost ended up being a horizontal hug, your head tucked under his chin. One arm was wrapped around your waist as the other rested under your head, his hand coming up to twist a strand of your hair. His wing folded over the both of you, the lights instantly dimming into a soft glow through the membrane.
You slowly tilted your head back to meet his eyes, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you took in his features. Letting it out as a whisper, you started with “I’m sorry for bothering you..” only to be immediately cut off.
Azriel tucked your head back into his neck, his chest rising with a deep inhale before he whispered back.
And in my bank account. And in the fragile scaffolding of hope I'd once so carefully built around myself.
They hand you a degree with a smile and a handshake, as if it isn't stapled to a lifetime of debt. As if champagne at graduation somehow drowns out the numbers waiting in your inbox the next morning, numbers with too many zeros, numbers that feel like a countdown.
I walked across that stage with honours cords around my neck and grief braided tight beneath my ribs.
Because while I had been writing theses and promising myself it would all be worth it, my parents had been quietly drowning.
A car accident. Rain-slick pavement. A phone call at 2:17 a.m.
Their debts didn't die with them. They passed down like heirlooms, only instead of silverware and photo albums, I inherited maxed-out credit cards and a mortgage I couldn't afford to keep.
Fresh out of grad school, I should have felt accomplished.
Instead, I waitressed at a diner that smelled like burnt coffee and fryer oil, smiling at strangers while collection notices arrived stamped in red urgency.
My life, to put it mildly, was a spectacular shitshow. No safety net. No one to help shoulder the weight. Just me and the numbers.
It was a passing comment that cracked everything open.
A few nights ago, wedged into a booth at the back of a bar sticky with spilt beer, a friend-of-a-friend had laughed too loudly.
"I can't imagine the things people do for money. I heard Stacey got herself knocked up—on purpose—but get this, as a surrogate. Can you believe it? Sacrificing your body for some cash. Wild."
The table had erupted in amused disbelief. I'd laughed too. Reflex. Automatic.
But the word surrogate had lodged itself somewhere deep.
Later that night, lying awake in the dim blue glow of my phone, the thought returned. Not with laughter. Not with mockery.
With possibility.
There was nothing inherently wrong with it.
Women did it all the time. Women with kind hearts and steady lives and families who supported them. Women who wanted to help others build the happiness they themselves already had.
And I had nothing tying me down. No partner. No children. Just debt and grief and a future that felt more like a threat than a promise.
The idea didn't feel bizarre. It felt... practical. Generous, even.
What was nine months compared to a lifetime of freedom from suffocating loans? What was discomfort compared to finally breathing without the constant pressure of numbers clawing at my spine?
That's how I found myself curled on my secondhand couch, scrolling through a surrogacy website that looked far too polished for the desperation thrumming in my veins.
Profiles flickered past. Smiling couples. Hands intertwined. Stories of infertility. Years of heartbreak condensed into tidy paragraphs.
And beneath each one—numbers.
Compensation packages that could wipe everything clean.
Debt-free. The words shimmered in my mind like a mirage.
I chewed on my bottom lip, reading every detail, every requirement. Health screenings. Psychological evaluations. Contracts thicker than any textbook I'd ever studied.
It wasn't reckless. It was structured. Legal. Careful. It was a transaction, yes, but also something more.
The chance to give someone their miracle. The chance to salvage my own life in the process.
My finger hovered over the trackpad as another profile loaded.
This one was different.
No staged beach photos. No saccharine captions. Just two names and a message that was direct. Honest. Intentional.
They wanted a family.
And the number listed at the bottom—it was enough to change everything.
My heart pounded so loudly I could feel it in my throat. This wasn't theoretical anymore. This was a line in the sand.
Before this moment, and after it. The cursor blinked in the message box.
Hi. My name is—
I stopped. Closed my eyes. Fear coiled low in my stomach. But beneath it? Resolve. I was tired of feeling powerless.
My fingers moved before doubt could catch up. My pulse thudded.
And before I could second-guess myself, before I could retreat back into the small, shrinking version of myself I'd become I hit send.
The message disappeared into the digital void.
The next morning, my phone buzzed before my alarm. For one fragile, suspended second, I didn't remember why my heart was already racing.
Then I saw the notification. A response. From: Azriel and Eris Vanserra.
My stomach dropped. I opened it with trembling fingers.
They thanked me for reaching out. Said they appreciated my honesty. Said they had been together for a long time and were ready, more than ready, for a child.
Adoption attempts had fallen through. Circumstances. Legalities. "Unfortunate complications." Their wording was careful. Controlled. Polished.
They asked if I would be willing to meet. Today.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
I stared at the message for a full minute, thumb hovering over the screen. This was moving fast. Too fast. Normal people took time to consider something like this.
Normal people also didn't have collectors calling before breakfast.
I typed back before fear could talk me out of it.
Now, standing outside the café doors, I was reconsidering every life choice that had led me here.
The place was upscale but understated, brick exterior, gold-lettered signage, the kind of place that charged nine dollars for coffee and called it an experience. My scuffed heels suddenly felt painfully obvious against the polished stone sidewalk.
I caught my reflection in the glass. Simple clothes. Hair pulled back neatly. Minimal makeup. Professional. Capable. Not desperate.
Even if desperation hummed beneath my skin.
I inhaled once, steadying myself, and pushed the door open.
The scent of espresso and warm sugar wrapped around me. Low conversation filled the space. Soft jazz drifted from unseen speakers.
And then I saw them.
They sat toward the back corner of the café, as if the space had subtly arranged itself around them.
Devastating didn't begin to cover it. Both men were beautiful in a way that felt deliberate. Polished. Dangerous. And wealthy.
You could tell immediately.
Not in the flashy, logo-plastered way. No. This was quieter. Tailored coats draped perfectly over broad shoulders. Watches that caught the light just enough. Posture that spoke of confidence so ingrained it didn't need to be performed.
Eris was the first thing my eyes snagged on.
Tall. Lean. Composed like he'd been sculpted rather than born. His fiery red hair was swept back neatly, revealing sharp cheekbones and pale, flawless skin. Amber eyes, bright and assessing lifted as the door chimed, landing on me with unsettling precision.
He looked like art. The kind displayed behind velvet ropes.
Azriel sat beside him, and where Eris burned, Azriel simmered.
Golden-brown skin stretched over a powerful, muscular frame that filled his dark button-down in a way that made my mouth go dry. Inky black hair fell slightly over his forehead, just enough to soften the severity of his features.
Hazel eyes met mine. And held.
There was something about his gaze, something steady and unreadable that made heat creep up my spine.
He didn't smile immediately. He observed. Like he was cataloguing me. Measuring.
The air between us shifted the moment they both focused fully on me.
I became acutely aware of everything. Of the sound of my heels against the floor, of the way my pulse fluttered in my throat, of how small I suddenly felt beneath their combined attention.
God. What had I done?
Eris leaned back slightly in his chair, one arm draped casually over the backrest, but his eyes never left me. His mouth curved, slow. Knowing.
Azriel, on the other hand, straightened. Intent.
Together, they were an impossible contrast. Fire and shadow. Sharp edges and quiet strength. Power, wrapped in expensive fabric and controlled expressions.
And they wanted a child.
I swallowed and forced my spine to remain straight. Professional. Remember?
I lifted my hand in a small wave, hoping it didn't look as uncertain as I felt. "Hi," I said when I reached their table, my voice steadier than I expected. "I'm—"
"We know who you are," Eris said smoothly, rising to his full height.
He was taller up close. Of course he was. Azriel stood a heartbeat later, towering just as easily. Up close, the effect was worse. Or better. I wasn't sure.
Their presence pressed in from both sides, subtle but undeniable. Not crowding. Not inappropriate. Just... consuming.
Eris extended his hand first.
"Eris Vanserra," he said, as if I hadn't read the name a dozen times already. His grip was warm. Firm. Controlled.
Azriel's hand followed. "Azriel."
His voice was lower. Quieter. It slid over my skin like velvet and something in my stomach tightened. I told myself it was nerves.
It had to be.
Because standing there between them, under their steady, assessing gazes, one thought echoed far louder than it should have.
They were rich. They were powerful.
And they were sexy as hell.
Azriel's POV -
The woman who might carry our child sat across from us and for a moment, I forgot every carefully prepared question.
She wasn't just pretty. She was... striking in a way that caught you off guard.
Not polished or dramatic. Not trying too hard. Just naturally beautiful. Soft features, expressive eyes, a nervous determination written plainly across her face.
She looked like someone who felt things deeply.
And that made my chest tighten.
She had dressed carefully. Professional. Composed. Like she wanted us to take her seriously. As if we wouldn't have the moment she walked in.
I noticed the way her shoulders squared when she saw us. The split second of hesitation before she continued forward anyway. Brave.
Eris leaned back slightly beside me, and I could practically feel the shift in him. He noticed too.
"You are beautiful," he said simply when she reached the table. Not teasing. Not sharp. Just honest.
Her cheeks flushed immediately, and something warm flickered in my chest at the sight.
I shot Eris a look, not disapproving, just surprised.
"What?" he murmured lightly. "It's a good thing."
She ducked her head a little at that, clearly not used to being addressed so directly.
"Let me get you a drink," I said before she could grow more flustered. I stood, offering her a small, reassuring smile. "My treat. What would you like?"
Her fingers twisted together briefly in her lap before she answered. "Caramel latte, please."
Her voice was soft, not weak. Just careful. Like she was trying very hard to get this right.
I nodded and made my way to the counter, needing a moment to steady myself more than anything.
Because here was the truth I hadn't anticipated.
I liked her immediately.
Not because she was beautiful. Because she felt genuine. There was no performance. No attempt to impress us with exaggerated warmth or rehearsed enthusiasm.
Just quiet honesty. And vulnerability she was trying very hard to hide.
When I returned with her drink, she looked at me like I'd done something kind, not transactional.
"Thank you," she said, wrapping her hands around the cup like it grounded her.
Eris smiled faintly. "He's annoyingly polite."
"I was raised well," I replied dryly, taking my seat again.
But I couldn't help noticing the way her hands steadied around the warmth. The way she seemed to exhale once we began speaking about ordinary things.
We kept the conversation light at first. Background. Education. Health history. Why she had reached out.
She answered everything honestly. Too honestly. There was no rehearsed desperation. No sales pitch.
Just quiet truth.
When she excused herself to use the restroom, I watched her disappear down the hallway before speaking.
Eris didn't wait. "Well," he said, swirling his espresso lazily. "I like her."
"That was fast."
"I knew the moment she walked in."
I exhaled slowly. "She's younger than I expected."
"She's stable," Eris countered. "Educated. Healthy. No record. No visible addictions. No partner complications."
"You ran a background check before we even met her."
He gave me a flat look. "Obviously."
Of course he had.
I leaned back slightly, folding my arms. "She's almost too perfect," I murmured.
She looked at us like we were something intimidating. Powerful. She didn't fully understand what attaching herself to us would mean.
Our lives were not small. Not quiet. And certainly not simple.
Eris tilted his head. "You're worried she'll back out."
"I'm worried," I said slowly, "that I don't want her to."
Silence stretched between us.
That was the problem. I already wanted this to work. And I did not make decisions based on want.
Eris's mouth curved, slow and knowing. "You like her."
I didn't answer. I didn't need to. He already knew.
"We'll make sure she's comfortable," Eris said finally, more serious now. "If she agrees, she'll be taken care of. Completely."
Protected. Provided for. Respected.
Footsteps approached. Conversation ended. She returned to the table, smoothing her hands over her thighs before sitting again.
There was something resolved in her expression now. She had made up her mind about something.
"I do have one condition," she said carefully, meeting our eyes in turn. Brave again.
Eris leaned forward slightly. "Go on."
"If I'm going to do this... I need to know the environment is right for the baby." Her voice steadied as she continued. "Not just financially. Emotionally. Physically. I want to know the child would grow up somewhere safe. Stable."
I felt something in my chest shift. She wasn't thinking about the money first. She was thinking about the child.
Eris's expression softened in a way few ever saw.
"That," he said quietly, "is precisely why we chose surrogacy carefully."
I leaned forward slightly, resting my forearms on the table.
"You would have full legal protection," I added. "Independent counsel. Medical coverage. A contract drafted to ensure your autonomy throughout the pregnancy."
Her brows lifted slightly. "You've done this before?" she asked.
"No," I said evenly. "We do not enter into arrangements unprepared."
Eris slid a folder across the table, of course he'd brought one. Preliminary paperwork. Financial breakdown. Medical outline. Expectations. Boundaries.
She scanned the top page, eyes widening almost imperceptibly at the compensation figure.
I watched her carefully. Greed didn't flash across her face. Relief did. And that settled something in me.
"For now," Eris said smoothly, "this is simply a discussion."
"No pressure," I added.
She looked between us again. There it was, that flicker of something warmer. Something uncertain.
"I need time to read everything," she said finally. "And think."
"Of course," I replied immediately.
But inside I hoped she wouldn't think too long. Because the more I looked at her, the more certain I became of one thing.
If she agreed to carry our child... nothing about this arrangement would remain strictly business.
And that realisation was far more dangerous than anything written in a contract.
A/n - First part and it starts off fairly tame with her stumbling across the ad and (impulsively) reaching out... but we all know that calm never lasts long around here!!
Of course, Azriel and Eris are immediately intrigued and already halfway convinced she's the one. Meanwhile, she's over here trying to keep it together and not spiral over the life-altering decision she just made :)
Things are definitely going to start picking up from here, so expect more tension, more questions, and maybe a few unexpected complications x
Thank you so much for reading <33
Terms and Conditions tag list - @sophieliz @azrielblue @whump-loverz @galacticoceans @lilah-asteria @niiickelodeon @justtryingtosurvive02 @rosie-posie08 @mis-lil-red @dnfhascorruptedme @justreadingfanficseveryday @spookypersondinosaur @chxosangxl @ivy-34 @jugodeshadowsinger @nyxmoretti @karolamurdock @katarina1224 @miffy223 @herblueside @livvyluv44 @acourtofbatboydreams @insomniac-astronomer @jessamintzzz
Warnings: angst, awkward Sidney, nsfw content!!! MUCH longer than part one so strap in.
Summary: your ex is off winning Stanley cups and you’re back home after school for the summer. After an awkward run in at the grocery store you assume that’s the last you’ll see of him. And then Sidney comes knocking on your front door.
Important note!!! I didn’t originally intend to write a pt2 but here we are… so therefore the time line is a bit messed up and confusing. I edited some dates in pt1, but for the sake of my story, we’re pretending Sid brought the cup home early summer of 2009, not September of 09. Four years have elapsed since reader went off to school. You’ll catch on. That’s it :))
More below the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️
The grocery store run in had done some serious damage to Sidney’s brain. Seeing you out of the blue after so long… it made something in his stomach twist with an emotion he couldn’t name. That was how Sidney ended up scrolling through his contacts, finger pausing on one number. He’d never removed the heart emoji from your name in his phone. You were still ‘y/n 💕’. He couldn’t bring himself to delete the heart after the breakup. It was silly, he wasn’t sure why considering it was for the best. But alas… he sat for a while drafting up messages, deleting them, rewriting, letting out frustrated groans. He finally settled on something simple.
“Hey. Sorry if I seemed a little weird at the grocery store. I guess I just didn’t expect you to be there… caught me a bit off gaurd…”
He sent it, holding his breath, hoping it wasn’t a completely idiotic decision. For all he knew you were in a relationship by now. Happy and completely done with him. His phone pinged and he immediately grabbed it. ‘Message not delivered’
Sidney cursed. You must’ve gotten a new number. Figured. It had been years. Now what? He didn’t have Instagram… maybe if he went back to the grocery store you’d be there again. Or if he just wandered town long enough he’d conveniently bump into you?
Sidney did exactly that. Made sure he was out and about more often. Even if it got a little exhausting constantly greeting fans and old family friends who gave the same ramble about how grown up and talented he was now. Two days and no encounter. He was at a loss.
And then, quite possibly the stupidest idea yet hit him. It was a Wednesday evening, around 7pm when he took a deep breath, and knocked on your front door. Or, at least he hoped it was your front door still. He assumed if you were back in Cole Harbour you were living under your parent’s roof…. Your mom opened the door, the greeting smile on her face quickly morphing into a wide eyed, slack jaw stare as she took in the sight of Sidney.
“Hey Mrs l/n….”
Your mom just blinked. And then she was lurching forward wrapping her arms around Sidney. She quickly pulled away, flustered, letting out a nervous, almost sheepish laugh. “Oh gosh I’m sorry Sid I just- wow!” She looked him up from head to toe. “Wow it’s been… ages.”
Sidney let out a soft, kind chuckle at her reaction, shaking his head at her apology. “S’okay. It has been a while. It’s uh- nice to see you again. You’re doing well?”
“I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking. And you? I imagine you’re doing very well.”
Sidney nodded again, slight flush on his cheeks. Something so oddly… embarrassing… about being some celebrity with people who’d seen him back when he was some sticky fingered thirteen year old punk. “Very well. It’s…. Life is good. But I always miss home. Quieter here.”
Your mom gave him a noise of enthusiastic understanding. “Not a big bustling city like you’re used to hey?”
“Yeah- yeah no. It’s peaceful. Less people staring at me… sorta.” Sidney felt rude as his eyes flicked past your mother into the house, his mind miles away. But your mom caught on immediately.
“Are you… looking for someone?”
He gave a sheepish look, scratching the back of his neck as he shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Uh- is y/n here?”
An unfamiliar emotion flickered through your mom’s eyes as she bobbed her head. “She’s downstairs in her room I think. I can grab her- or… or you can go down and-“
“Maybe… just grab her,” Sidney quickly murmured. The thought of going to your old bedroom- a place he’d spent hours in. Hours talking, snuggling, and… other things. It felt too invasive to just appear unannounced and throw you off kilter. Your mom understood, realizing the suggestion was a little outlandish.
“I’ll be right back.”
He stood there awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down. And then there you were. Your mom disappeared, leaving you two alone.
You were quick to step out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you, knowing damn well your mom would be snooping. “Sidney.”
You said his name so simply. So soft. So matter of fact. He almost forgot how to talk. You looked just as beautiful as he remembered. Better than the grocery store. Your hair pulled into two messy little braids, bandana pushing the fly aways back. Bare face, a little tired looking. Cute. You wore shorts and an old band tee that had paint smeared on it. Upon closer inspection, your knees and left cheek also had paint. You smelled like paint.
“Sorry did I interrupt something?” Ever the observant Sidney. He mentally punched himself.
You shrugged, shaking your head. “Naw. Nothing important. I’m repainting my bedroom. The mint green I chose in elementary school isn’t really the vibe anymore.”
He laughed softly, hands still buried in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Yeah. That’s fair.” He glanced at the paint on your body. White. Maybe primer. “What colours it gonna be now?”
“Off white… thinking about doing a nice earthy green or brown accent wall… not sure yet.”
He gave an animatedly enthusiastic nod, the small talk awkward, both of you well aware he wasn’t here to talk about interior design.
“Sounds nice.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
You stared at each other for a few seconds as you cleared your throat, straightening a little. “So… is there a reason….”
“Fuck. Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m just- I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m here.”
Huh. You frowned slightly, giving him a once over again. His jeans fit well, a basic white tshirt that hugged his broad chest. His hair still damp from what you assumed was the shower. “Okay….”
He let out a small huff of air, shaking his head as he avoided your gaze. “Fuuuckkks sake. Geez I’m sorry y/n this was kinda stupid. I tried to text you but your number didn’t work… just- I figured if you’re in town again, I was wondering if… if maybe like…”
“You wanna grab a coffee?”
You finished his question for him, rescuing him from his fumbling mess of words. Sidney audibly sighed, shoulders slumping with relief. “Yeah. Just to catch up. It’s been a long time.”
You made a small humming noise of agreement. “I’m kind of a mess right now… but how about tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow’s great. Like around seven?”
Your nose scrunched in protest. Fuck that was adorable. Sidney had to avoid staring. “Not all of us are on athlete time schedules. How about nine?”
“Yeah. Good point. Nine is great. Wanna go to JJ’s? Or…”
If Sidney was being honest JJ’s was the only coffee shop he knew existed in the small town. A regular location you two often hit when you were dating…. A cute little cafe that served breakfast and lunch as well. “I like JJ’s,” you confirmed. “I’ll meet you there?”
“Yeah. That’d be great.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
Sidney tugged his hands from his jeans pockets, brushing off his jeans in a way that made it evident he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Ok. I’ll see you then.”
You began to open your front door, smiling softly at him before he suddenly added. “Can I- get your new number? Just in case… I’m running late or something.”
“Sure. In case you’re running late.”
He handed you his phone. Watched you type in the digits, then give it back to him.
“Congratulations. On the cup by the way. Captain Crosby. When’s it your turn with it?”
Sidney paused. He’d almost forgotten that. Right. He had even more status now. Kind of. “Thanks,” he replied in the most strained tone possible. What was his issue? “Uhm… I already had it.”
You nodded at his words. Your school year went a little later since you were abroad and you hadn’t even been back home when he brought the cup. You’d missed the fanfare. Probably for the best.
“Right. I forgot, my dad… mentioned it. You took it on a jet ski or something.”
He cringed a little, flushing brighter. “Yeah. I did that. Stupid.”
“Eh,” you shrugged. “I’d probably do the same thing. Anyways…”
He cleared his throat a little as you hinted at the conversation coming to an end, moving backwards a little and allowing you to step back into your house. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
He waved goodbye as you softly closed the door catching a glimpse of your mom peeking out the kitchen window.
The next morning Sidney showed up to the cafe fifteen minutes early. He avoided taking a seat, wondering if it would be a stretch to ask you if you wanted to walk along the water. It was a gorgeous morning. Not too hot, not too cold, the sun out, birds chirping. He settled for sitting on the bench outside the cafe, nervously checking his watch, running his fingers through his hair. Behaving like an anxious teenager all over again. He had to remind himself this wasn’t a date. Again, he wasn’t even sure you were single. You were his ex. An old friend he was just catching up with.
He recognized your car. The same beat up Jetta you’d had for only God knew how long. It was more rust than vehicle now. He watched you park, get out of your car, eyes immediately catching his as you gave a soft smile and wiggle of your fingers. You looked even better than last night. Hair loose this time, brushed out, a tanktop and jeans that hugged you nicely paired with a cute cardigan and oodles of shiny bracelets and rings. Always bedazzled. Nothing had changed about you in that way. He liked that. You were always the cooler one out of you two in his opinion.
You made it to the front door of the shop as he stood. He considered hugging you- no. That’s weird. Instead he just opened the door for you. “Hey. Long time no see.”
You laughed a little as you went inside. “Yeah. Been a whole… What, like… fourteen hours? Fifteen?”
“Something like that.”
You smiled vaguely as he watched you look up at the menu boards. Sidney cleared his throat a little. “Did you want to get food or anything? Breakfast?”
You looked back at him.
“It’s ok. I ate at home. I need coffee though. Maybe a muffin…” you contemplated, directing your gaze now to the display case of baked goods.
“I was thinking we could maybe walk… if you wanted. Really nice weather Yknow?”
“Sure. That’d be nice.”
You ordered, Sidney wanted to pay, and though he made a move to, he pulled back last second deciding that was an overstep. Too much. He didn’t want to freak you out. You did end up getting a muffin, Sidney matching you as you made your way out of the shop to the water front. “Mmm. Still the best caramel latte in all of Nova Scotia,” you mused as you sipped your iced drink. Sidney nodded with a smile. Yet another thing thar hadn’t changed about you. Same coffee order.
“I know. That’s why they’re still in business.”
You fell into step with one another, still a little quiet. You spoke first, looking at the water rather than Sidney. “So… how’s life?”
He let out a heaving sigh like that was the most loaded question you could’ve given him. Your brow furrowed as you turned your eyes to him.
“It’s good.”
He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t give you details, and the tone of his voice was far from enthusiastic.
“Just good?” You scoffed a little, kicking a pebble beneath your feet. “Sidney you’re the captain of an NHL team. You’re the face of Canadian hockey. You’re every little athletes hero….oh right, and you won the fucking Stanley cup before you’ve even turned twenty two.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
You paused in your tracks abruptly turning to him, face serious. “Not a big deal? Not a big deal?? Sidney Patrick Crosby can you stop being humble for once in your life?”
Sidney crumpled a little bit like a scolded puppy, staring at the ground before he cautiously peeked up to meet your piercing stare. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize- I just…. I should be the one apologizing. That was aggressive. I just don’t know why you’re acting like your life is nothing special. To be honest it’s kinda annoying.”
“Sorry,” he repeated, a cautious murmur. You raised an eyebrow and he cringed. “I meant- not sorry. I’ll stop apologizing. You’re right. It’s not fair to act like my life is insignificant .”
He realized that it must’ve been a smack in your face. Being so casual about his career when you’d just been in school for years, spending hours studying, writing papers, losing sleep, all while holding a part time job in a country you didn’t know. Out of the two of you his life was definitely easier.
“I’m just genuinely curious. Like… what’s it like?”
“What? Playing hockey?”
“Yeah. That. And being captain. And iconic. And winning the cup. All of it.” You both began walking again, done with your scolding.
If Sidney was honest, you reaming him out made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like how easy it was to be distracted by your mere existence.
“It’s really cool. That’s my honest answer. Like… the fact that my job is just playing the sport I love? They pay me too much.”
“Must be tough.”
Sidney twitched a little, grimacing. “That’s not- sorry-“
“Hey,” you reprimanded him again, reminding him that was enough with the apologies.
“Right. Uhm- but what I meant is that’s not what I meant. I just meant that it’s stupid they pay me so much. It’s not like I’m contributing anything that important to society…. I mean, like what about doctors, and teachers, and stuff…” he was rambling. He was pretty sure he said the word ‘meant’ twenty times in that one explanation. “I just meant…” he faded off, deciding it was better to just shut up.
“It’s not your fault. That’s a societal issue,” you stated simply, Sidney grateful that you didn’t seem to react to his sloppy speech patterns. Somehow talking to you was way harder than any sort of post game interview. “I’m not actually offended by the way. I was just teasing you…”
“Right. I- should’ve gathered that… you were always heavy on the sarcasm.”
“Still am. You act like it’s been decades,” you observed, voice getting quieter. “Like you’re shocked that I’m still me.”
He grunted in acknowledgment, realizing that you were right. He was treating you like you were a whole new person who’d just lived an entire lifetime without him. Four years was a lot, sure, but not to the extent that you’d become boring and lost the personality he remembered.
“I guess I’m just not sure what to say to you. There’s a huge elephant in the room and all-“
“We’re just two people catching up.”
His stomach dropped a little at your words. So abrupt and direct. Maybe you had moved on, matured more than he had. You’d probably met someone… he was reading into everything too much, his hopes too high, his delusions soaring. Why did he even go to your house? What was he trying to gain from talking to you? He was just reopening the same wound that never seemed to fully heal.
“Yeah. I know.”
You both didn’t talk for a long while, the silence uncomfortable rather than natural. And then, like the idiot he was, Sidney blurted out, “are you seeing anyone?”
You felt your mouth physically dry up at the question. You hesitated, glancing sideways at him for a second. “No. You?”
“No,” he almost laughed the word, and you raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not a ridiculous question. I’ve seen the magazine covers. You’re North America’s golden boy heart throb. Sexy Sid the kid, models knocking on your door-”
“Can you not?”
He cut you off, tone a little harsher than intended as you recoiled. He wanted to say sorry again- but that word was banned right now. So he just pursed his lips as you narrowed your eyes at him slightly.
“Why? I’m not wrong.”
“It just…makes me feel weird. I’m not like that, I don’t give a fuck what women want me…I’m not about that lifestyle.” He paused, finding his next words. “I’m still just Sidney, by the way. You’re acting like I’m not.”
You didn’t say anything in response, processing his words. He was right. You were being unfair. You were making him uncomfortable and that wasn’t cool… if you were being perfectly honest with yourself, you were definitely projecting something. Some kind of insecurity or hurt you still hadn’t quite gotten over after all these years.
“It’s my turn to say sorry I guess,” you finally offered up, guilt swallowing your voice as you mumbled the words.
“No. No, you have every right to make those assumptions. I got defensive.”
“A little bit,” you agreed, raising your hand and pinching your fingers at him. Sidney smiled at that. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. And just like that the uncomfortable tension faded as much as it could when two exes were essentially on a coffee date. Even if you tried to state you were just old friends earlier. Yet another asshole move on your part. Why were you acting like this?
First you snapped at him for his humility, then you borderline insinuated he was a womanizer now. It was like you wanted him to hate you- which obviously you didn’t- but you weren’t sure why you were behaving so self destructively. You annoyed yourself. And yet, he was still patient, and for that your heart skipped a beat. Fuck him. Fuck him and his patience…
“Anyways,” Sidney breathed, moving the conversation along. “You still never fully answered me. How are you? The thirty second check in at the store didn’t really enlighten me about your life at all.”
“Good.” It wasn’t a lie. But seeing him now? It felt like one. “I’ve been good. I’m tired, glad to be back home and see my family…”
“I get that.”
“I guess you would…” You were more similar than you really allowed yourself to believe. Because yes- Sidney was on a whole other sphere of fame and fortune- but at the end of the day you were both still two small town kids who’d spread their wings into the big, busy world. And now here you were. Both of you back in Cole Harbour, winding down and processing life.
“Yeah. I know it’s different, but it’s also not, y’know?” He spoke the exact words you’d been thinking and you nodded in agreement.
“Has Pittsburgh been treating you well at least?”
“Very. I love it. Even if it’s overwhelming sometimes.”
“Understandable,” You snorted a little. You could never be in the limelight like that. You were shocked Sidney could, but then again he’d matured and developed skills, handling stress that a teenager version of himself could never have. “Is it hard to like…exist? I mean, I doubt you can grab a bite to eat without signing fifty autographs.”
He let out an amused huff of air. “It’s hard sometimes, yeah, but some of the guys on the team let me know local places that are more lowkey…where I’m not as likely to get recognized, and if I am, people don’t care. But it’s also a little cool. Mostly the kids that recognize me.”
“They really look up to you, huh?”
He nodded, sheepish in a way, like the fact was embarrassing. “Yeah. I see a lot of mini sized eighty seven jerseys. Some pregnant woman got me to sign a literal infant sized t-shirt once for a baby that hadn’t even been born yet…”
“That’s wild.”
“I know, I know…Hockey fans are wild.”
“Oh I’m aware. Have you met my dad and brother?”
Sidney grinned at that. Gosh he missed your family. Seeing your mom had already made those bittersweet emotions rise up and him, but the mention of the rest of your family? Gone were the days of dinner at your house…street hockey with your brother…Having a second set of parents.
You interrupted Sidney’s racing mind as you pointed towards a bench by the docks that you’d now walked to. The area was relatively empty aside from two or three middle aged men who appeared to be fixing up a rusted out Cape Islander, some soft seventies rock playing from a hidden source as they worked. You assumed they were prepping it for personal use- your town wasn’t exactly a commercial fishing hub. You almost laughed a little bit about how stereotypical the sight was. You missed this. Despite constantly wanting to escape after the initial move when you were younger, now there was nothing more nostalgic and comforting than the town you’d spent some of your most formative years in.
Sidney led the way, wiping the bench a little bit with his hand before you sat down, staring out at the water. You sighed deeply, both of you quiet for a while until you felt his gaze on you. You flicked your eyes to your right, catching him in the act. He had this soft look in his eyes… a look you knew well. A look that eighteen year old Sidney seemed to always be wearing in your presence.
“What?”
You asked the word so softly you were surprised he even heard you. Then he smiled. Just slightly, lip quirking up as he never once broke his stare. “I was just thinking… how much has happened. In less than five years- you’ve lived across the ocean, finished school-“
“For now.”
“For now,” he corrected with a nod. He knew you’d always wanted to get your masters. Maybe more. That was part of the reason you didn’t want to turn down the overseas opportunity. “Anyways. You’ve done so much. And I’ve moved too- I’m a captain of a fucking NHL team which is just,” he shook his head like he was trying to reorient himself. “Anyways. What I’m saying is we’ve both done so much. Changed so much. But you’re still- so you.”
“What does that mean?” You asked, scrunching your nose at him.
“It’s a good thing,” he clarified, gauging your expression as a negative one. He opened his mouth to continue, then paused, letting out an almost choked sound before he broke eye contact for the first time, looking down at the now empty coffee cup in his hand. He placed it on the bench beside him, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know why I broke up with you y/n.”
The words poured out before he could stop them. Raw and honest. You felt winded by the confession, body tensing a little as you waited for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt. You wanted him to keep talking. You wanted to know what was going through his head.
“I don’t know why I couldn’t just- work harder. It literally wouldn’t have been that hard to just pick up my damn phone more. Fly out to visit you a few times…” he finally risked looking up again and you swore you saw a hint of dampness in his eyes before he blinked it away.
“Sidney, we both agreed it was the best decision.”
“But why? Like, be so for real y/n why couldn’t we have just figured something out? It wasn’t that hard, and I thought breaking up was going to fix my anxiety? You were the only thing in my life that didn’t make me anxious, and I didn’t realize that till after- and then it was too late and everything, and I mean everything felt so much worse. Because I didn’t have my person anymore. I didn’t have anyone that understood me like you did.”
He was talking so fast you had a bit of trouble catching up, brow scrunched in concentration as he poured out his heart. He was breathing heavier, enough so that you could hear his shaky inhales. And then the question. “Are we done forever?”
If you thought his first statement about not knowing why you broke up was a gut punch, this was a million times worse. You weren’t sure what to say, your mouth dry, a million and one thoughts swirling in your mind. And then as if on autopilot, without any critical thought, you squeaked out a word. “No.”
“No as in-“
“As in no, we’re not done forever. As in- as in I still think about you. All the time.”
“Are you serious?” His brow was wrinkled so tightly it looked like it hurt.
“Are you?”
“Yeah,” he almost laughed at the words, voice cracking a high pitched noise that made him flush. “Yeah, I’m so fucking serious! I don’t know why I broke up with you and I think about you all the time too. I thought it would get better, I thought I’d finally stop thinking about you…but then I saw you and I could barely function.”
You were overwhelmed. This felt surreal. This moment shouldn’t have been happening, you weren’t supposed to ever be back here with him, feeling all of these emotions that were meant to be burnt away ages ago. You both didn’t know what else to say, the only noises you could hear being your racing heart, the distant water birds, and the music from the docs. The music. Soft drawling voices as you registered the song and nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity.
Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones. It felt like some corny romcom scene you’d make fun of for being unrealistic and cringey. Sidney registered the music too, looking up to the docs where the men working had no clue the significance of their playlist had right now. He looked back at you, shaking his head as a laugh bubbled up from his throat and you broke too. Laughing hard, eyes welling up against your will.
“Fuck y/n.”
There wasn’t anything else to be said as Sidney’s hand moved forward, fingers threading in yours. Warm and calloused, but familiar all the same. You were both still giggling a little bit, almost giddy, your nervous systems malfunctioning from everything that had just happened. You looked up again at the maintenance men, one of them glancing absentmindedly at you as well before he kept working. “You think they think we’re crazy?”
“I don’t care,” He squeezed your hands tightly, pulling your eyes back to him. “I don’t care about anything else right now.” Your eyes lingered on one another, grinning like idiots before Sidney hummed the tune of the song slightly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he murmured the lyrics, singing along with Mick Jagger’s rough vocals, so bad you keeled over in another fit of laughter.
“Stop it-” you choked. “This is so cringey. Genuinely-”
“You think I’m bad at singing?”
“Yes!”
He scoffed, tugging you closer before his one hand let go of yours, moving to cup your cheek. Your heart stopped, giggles fading. “Can we stop this? The pathetic yearning?”
“S’not pathetic, it’s romantic,” you rebutted, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Unnecessary pain and suffering and miscommunication…but romantic.”
“So you’re gonna let me be your boyfriend again, right?”
“Obviously.”
“And we’re going to work through the issues, and communicate, and not give up so easily, right?”
“Obviously.”
Sidney’s smile was so big it hurt, corners of his mouth aching as he leaned forward a bit, his breath hitching as he watched your tongue dart out to wet your glossy lips a little. Then he closed the gap. Somehow over the years you’d become even sweeter. Even warmer, softer… he audibly gasped against your lips before he pulled away, cheeks pink with embarrassment at his noise. It comforted him a bit to see you pink as well and still grinning as widely as before.
“I missed that. A lot.”
“Me too.”
And then he was kissing you again, one hand moving to cup the back of your head, fingers threading in your tangled hair. The kiss deepened, his arms pulling you closer to his chest as you moved in sync. It was muscle memory. Familiar and comfortable. A few minutes passed before you parted again, both breathing heavier than before. You were giggling like an idiot, forehead leaned against his as he matched your laughter, Sidney pulling back to press a soft kiss just above your eyebrow as he tugged you into the crook of his neck, hugging you with a grip that told you he wasn’t ever letting go again.
You nuzzled into him happily, smile never once leaving your face. And then you paused as he shifted against you, that broad smile suddenly dropping. “What is tha- oh….”
Sidney was pink, looking a little guilty as you stared down at his lap, then back to his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to ruin a nice moment….”
“Ruin?” You scoffed, tilting your head, hand slowly shifting, fingers creeping up his thigh. “I heard you bought your own place… private. Somewhere that’s not my childhood bedroom.”
Gosh you were going to be the death of him, the way you looked at him through your lashes… he shuddered a little. “Yeah. It’s private.”
You abandoned your car and opted to take Sidney’s, leg bouncing as you rode in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on him. He however, was transfixed on the road ahead, flushed all over, tent in his jeans impossible to conceal. He slapped your hand away as you tried to touch, giving you a disapproving side eye. “I’m driving”
“I’m horny.”
He grunted, voice cracking as he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Same. Obviously. Behave.”
“Okay captain Crosby. So… bossy. And in charge.”
He still didn’t fully look at you, his lips pursed as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll stop the car and kick you out right now.”
“Geez sorryyyyy.”
The drive to his house was short despite feeling like hours, and the moment he parked, Sidney was moving to the passenger door, yanking it open, and scooping you up bridal style. You squealed as he smashed his mouth into yours, stumbling into his home (which was crazy to you, but then again he was making a lot of money)
He beelined for his bedroom, kicking off shoes, stumbling with haste as you were thrown on the bed already panting. “You owe me a tour.”
“Later.” A low grunt as he grabbed the bottom of your tanktop, pulling it off, eyes fixated on your chest. “Cute.” He added, looking between your floral lace bra and your eyes. And then your lips were locked again. Somewhere in the makeout session Sidney’s shirt was also removed, the feeling of his much broader and harder chest making your thighs clench as he pulled back after a while, standing fully at the edge of the bed.
He dropped his jeans, belt buckle jangling as he moved forward again, your eyes drinking him in as you grinned. “What?” He chuckled.
“Your ass has gotten bigger,” you commented, causing a noise of surprise to escape Sidney as he scrunched his brow, giving you an unbelieving grin, “is it from all the squats?”
“Oh my gosh,” he mumbled shaking his head before he crawled forward, caging you in. He kissed you for the hundredth time, pulling back to see you still grinning cheekily. “Yes it’s from the squats. You happy?”
“I like it. But I’m a little upset it’s lowkey way bigger than mine. Kinda embarassing.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Sidney gladly obliged, lips smashing into yours harder this time, hands trailing up your bare torso, sliding behind your back to your bra, unclasping it. He groaned at the sight of your tits. He’d missed them, lips moving down your jaw before they settled just above your breasts, making you gasp. “Sid…”
“What?”
“You know what…” you whispered, voice strained. He just smiled against your skin, before he took your left nipple between his into his mouth making you jolt suddenly. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this turned on, dick aching in his boxers. It was reminiscent of how he felt losing his virginity (which he did to you). Exciting but nerve wracking. He pulled back, trail of saliva hanging between his puffy lips and your nipple as you nearly came at the sight alone. “I wanna feel you. Right now. Enough foreplay…”
“Greedy.”
“As if you aren’t too,” you mumbled as he moved to undo your bottoms as well, sliding them down your thighs as you lifted your bum to help.
“Look at these pretty legs. Gonna need them wrapped around my face another time.”
Your breath hitched at the comment. Yeah. Yeah you needed that. But now you needed him inside you. His fingers brushed over your damp panties, a smirk on his lips as he cupped your cunt, thumb bumping your clit through the thin fabric as you squealed. “You’re dripping.”
“And you’ve been hard since I kissed you twenty minutes ago.”
“You’re really fucking sexy. So sue me.”
“I just might.”
A low chuckle, and then he was removing your panties next. Sidney paused as he fully pulled the fabric away, taking a moment to sit there on his knees and just stare. His mouth watered at the sight, dick twitched, eyes slowly tracing from head to toe. He couldn’t describe it- how good you looked spread naked in front of him. A sight he’d missed. You’d changed a little bit. Four years did that. ‘Second puberty’ or whatever they called it. You were a little fuller, more womanly. Hotter in Sidney’s opinion. He liked it. Your supple breasts, soft stomach, thick thighs… his thumb slowly moved back between your legs, finger poking experimentally at your hole as you whined. That was enough for him to push in without warning, curling his digit in a way that made you arch off the bed yet again. His grin widened as his thumb moved in sync over your clit, other hand pushing down his boxers to free his dick. You couldn’t lie- it was bigger than you remembered. Dripping and red, evident that he’d been hard a long while. Some other time you’d definitely suck him off and he’d definitely eat you out. Just not now.
“Sidney please,” your voice was a broken whimper as he leaned over you, caging you in as he grasped his cock and grazed it through your wet folds.
“Please what?”
“Don’t do that,” you groaned, frustrated. “No games.”
“Hmph.”
He pulled his other hand away, supporting his weight on one arm and focusing on lining up properly. He looked up to your face, your eyes both locking. And then he slowly, almost hesitantly pushed in. A choked gasp from you, a broken groan from Sidney… your body tight, bracing as he sunk deeper and deeper, bottoming out with a whimper of your name.
“Holy shit you feel so fucking good. I can’t- I- fuck-“
He was a mess. The feeling of you wrapped around him, warm, tight, still fit him like your bodies were made for each other. He looked down where you were connected, panting as he gave an experimental thrust of his hips before he met your eyes again and instantly froze. You were staring at him, fat, hot tears bubbling up and rolling down your cheeks.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck baby I’m so sorry did I hurt you? I’m sorry-“ he began to pull out before you reached for his shoulder to stop him.
“No- no you didn’t- it feels amazing I just,” your breath caught a little as you laid beneath his body. “I just- I just missed you so much.” Your last few words got swallowed up by a tiny little sob, your fingers gripping his bicep harder, almost like you were scared if you let go, you’d wake up and this would all have been a dream.
Sidney’s heart ached. His hands moved to your hips, hitching them upwards slightly to get a deeper angle as he pushed your knees to your chest, caging you in and filling you as much as he could as his face hovered above yours, emotion rising and tightening his throat. “Missed you too,” he whispered, raspy, kissing you briefly, moving to wipe a tear away. “Thought about you a lot. Regretted ever cutting it off. Got mad at myself for thinking about hockey so much…”
“No…” you mumbled. “No- I want you to think about hockey. I’m proud of you. It’s not your fault. It’s the timing… it was bad timing.”
“I still shouldn’t have ever broken up with you.”Another lingering kiss as he pulled back again, thrusting slowly back inside you as you both gasped. Another, another, in, out, in, out, breathing growing laboured and heavy as your nails pricked his skin. “I tried to date girls in Pittsburgh,” he confessed between rolls of his hips, your jaw slack as you whimpered below him. “Went on dates, had a few fucking awful hookups. They all looked like you.”
Your stomach twisted at his words. Between the pleasure of his cock moving inside you and jolting nature of what he’d just said, you clenched tightly around him making him moan and pause his movements.
“Sid…”
“No. I’m serious. I was such a fuckin’ idiot. Didn’t even realize I’d just been chasing women I thought would make me happy when you were constantly in the back of my mind. I never felt anything with them. Never ever had that spark. Our fucking spark.” Now he was getting emotional. Eyes growing damp as he hugged you impossibly close. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you- you- you idiot,” he broke into a small laugh at the end of his words. The insult that wasn’t really an insult. The bizarre nature of pouring his heart out while he was balls deep inside you… you matched his laugh through your tears, sniffling a little bit.
“I hated the British dudes,” your turn to confess, to which Sidney laughed again, both of you giggling softly. “I missed your fuckass east coast hockey boy accent.”
“I do not have one of those.”
“Do too. And I love it.”
His hands secured themself at the backs of your thighs as he kept you folded in on yourself, pace growing quicker as your conversation faded off and Sidney’s focus turned to feeling you. Feeling how perfect you were, listening to your noises of pleasure, watching your face scrunch up in bliss as you clung to him, soft moans leaving you with each jolt of his cock inside you.
“Don’t stop,” you whimpered the words so quietly he barely caught them. He quickened his face, moving to brace one hand above your pussy, thumb working in circles over your clit as he stuttered at the feeling of you clenching tighter around him.
“Ooooh fuck baby- I’m close…”
“Me too,” the tears were still flowing. “I love you.”
He tried to respond, tried to tell you he loved you back, but suddenly he gasped, you cunt spasming around him as you cried out loudly, sobbing his name as your orgasm hit you in crashing waves. Sidney grew sloppy, movements getting weaker as he chased his own high, finally letting out a deep groan as he jolted forward, spilling inside you, rope after rope of cum that made your eyes roll back and toes curl. He crumpled slightly on top of you, both of you panting heavily before he lifted himself enough to not smush you completely. He pulled out, lying down beside you as you stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling rapidly. The room smelt of sex and sweat. His arm was draped around you, a heavy silence fell over you two for what felt like an eternity. You rubbed at your eyes and the few stray tears as Sidney finally spoke.
“That was fucking amazing.”
You smiled a little bit as he pulled you closer to him. “It was,” you agreed quietly. “I missed that.”
“Me too. Not just the sex.”
“I know,” your voice was soft as you tilted your head to look at him again. “But the sex is really good,” you gave him a cheeky grin which he matched, finger moving out to poke your nose. He groaned as he finally sat up, eyes tracing over you. A trail of White was already leaking from between your thighs.
“Kinda didn’t ask about if you were on the pill or anything….”
“It’s ok. IUD. Worst case morning after pill.”
He nodded, eyes flickering with something unspoken.
“What?” You asked.
He shook his head a little, shrugging. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie,” you moved your foot to nudge him with it.
“Just thought about what would happen…”
“What would happen if…?”
“You weren’t- like… on anything. Like if I got you pregnant.”
“Slow down. We just got back together.”
He held his hands up in surrender, chuckling. “Woah woah. Sorry. That’s not what I was implying at all.” He quickly said. “Sorry. Again.”
“You apologize a lot.”
“Just don’t want to freak you out. That was a weird thing to say.”
You narrowed your eyes at him as he said the words so innocently. So genuinely. He was thinking about your future now. A future you both didn’t think you’d ever have. Hasty? Yes. Very. And he acknowledged that. But at the same time, it felt like those four years had never passed. Like you were two high school kids happy and in love again, no time zone issues, no NHL distractions, no breakup. And you couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe you would have kids. Maybe not. Maybe you would get married, move in together… maybe you’d find a job in Pittsburgh… or you’d go elsewhere and he’d make sure he kept those FaceTime calls regular.
Sidney’s mind was full of the same things. The maybes. The optimism. The hope that this time he wouldn’t let you go. This time you’d matured more, and you’d push through the difficulties. The hope that he’d never miss that spark ever again. The little sizzle between you two. The butterflies that never wanted to disappear.
He smiled, standing, locating his boxers and sliding them on as he moved into the washroom, returning a moment later with a damp wash cloth, climbing onto the bed and gently parting your legs. Watching you as he cleaned you up, eye contact never once breaking.
“You’re really, really beautiful. In case I didn’t say that.”
“You’ve said it,” you blushed a little.
“I’ll say it over and over.”
“You’re really really handsome. In case I didn’t say that.” You parroted him and Sidney laughed that same warm noise as he rummaged through his drawers, handing you a pair of his boxers and a tshirt. You raised an eyebrow at him, glancing at the bedside clock that was on the nightstand.
“It’s mid day,” you commented. “This is bedtime wear.”
“Your panties are still wet, you really wanna wear them again?”
You rolled your eyes playfully as you slid his clothes on. They smelt the same as you remembered. Soft cotton against your body, wrapped in a piece of him. “My mom’s gonna cry from joy when I tell her we’re back together.”
“Good. I love your mom.”
“I know.”
Sidney made you lunch as you two chatted. Still so much to catch up on… friends both of you had made, stories of your unhinged professors and Sidney’s questionable teammates. Some guy named Geno that you were mildly concerned was your competition.
He was a great cook, happy when you gave his pasta two thumbs up. Happy that you were there next to him in general.
“So…. How’s the job market in Pittsburgh?”
Sidney perked up, pausing mid bite.
“Dunno. But I’ve got enough money now you can do whatever the hell you want. And if you don’t want to live in Pittsburgh or Nova Scotia I’m using that money to make sure I see you as often as we need.”
“Good.”
He nodded. “Good.”
It was a promise, soft and simple. But a promise all the same. In his tone of voice, and the look he was giving you. Sidney was never giving you up again.
Warnings: angst, awkward Sidney, nsfw content!!! MUCH longer than part one so strap in.
Summary: your ex is off winning Stanley cups and you’re back home after school for the summer. After an awkward run in at the grocery store you assume that’s the last you’ll see of him. And then Sidney comes knocking on your front door.
Important note!!! I didn’t originally intend to write a pt2 but here we are… so therefore the time line is a bit messed up and confusing. I edited some dates in pt1, but for the sake of my story, we’re pretending Sid brought the cup home early summer of 2009, not September of 09. Four years have elapsed since reader went off to school. You’ll catch on. That’s it :))
More below the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️
The grocery store run in had done some serious damage to Sidney’s brain. Seeing you out of the blue after so long… it made something in his stomach twist with an emotion he couldn’t name. That was how Sidney ended up scrolling through his contacts, finger pausing on one number. He’d never removed the heart emoji from your name in his phone. You were still ‘y/n 💕’. He couldn’t bring himself to delete the heart after the breakup. It was silly, he wasn’t sure why considering it was for the best. But alas… he sat for a while drafting up messages, deleting them, rewriting, letting out frustrated groans. He finally settled on something simple.
“Hey. Sorry if I seemed a little weird at the grocery store. I guess I just didn’t expect you to be there… caught me a bit off gaurd…”
He sent it, holding his breath, hoping it wasn’t a completely idiotic decision. For all he knew you were in a relationship by now. Happy and completely done with him. His phone pinged and he immediately grabbed it. ‘Message not delivered’
Sidney cursed. You must’ve gotten a new number. Figured. It had been years. Now what? He didn’t have Instagram… maybe if he went back to the grocery store you’d be there again. Or if he just wandered town long enough he’d conveniently bump into you?
Sidney did exactly that. Made sure he was out and about more often. Even if it got a little exhausting constantly greeting fans and old family friends who gave the same ramble about how grown up and talented he was now. Two days and no encounter. He was at a loss.
And then, quite possibly the stupidest idea yet hit him. It was a Wednesday evening, around 7pm when he took a deep breath, and knocked on your front door. Or, at least he hoped it was your front door still. He assumed if you were back in Cole Harbour you were living under your parent’s roof…. Your mom opened the door, the greeting smile on her face quickly morphing into a wide eyed, slack jaw stare as she took in the sight of Sidney.
“Hey Mrs l/n….”
Your mom just blinked. And then she was lurching forward wrapping her arms around Sidney. She quickly pulled away, flustered, letting out a nervous, almost sheepish laugh. “Oh gosh I’m sorry Sid I just- wow!” She looked him up from head to toe. “Wow it’s been… ages.”
Sidney let out a soft, kind chuckle at her reaction, shaking his head at her apology. “S’okay. It has been a while. It’s uh- nice to see you again. You’re doing well?”
“I’m doing just fine, thanks for asking. And you? I imagine you’re doing very well.”
Sidney nodded again, slight flush on his cheeks. Something so oddly… embarrassing… about being some celebrity with people who’d seen him back when he was some sticky fingered thirteen year old punk. “Very well. It’s…. Life is good. But I always miss home. Quieter here.”
Your mom gave him a noise of enthusiastic understanding. “Not a big bustling city like you’re used to hey?”
“Yeah- yeah no. It’s peaceful. Less people staring at me… sorta.” Sidney felt rude as his eyes flicked past your mother into the house, his mind miles away. But your mom caught on immediately.
“Are you… looking for someone?”
He gave a sheepish look, scratching the back of his neck as he shrugged. “I mean, yeah. Uh- is y/n here?”
An unfamiliar emotion flickered through your mom’s eyes as she bobbed her head. “She’s downstairs in her room I think. I can grab her- or… or you can go down and-“
“Maybe… just grab her,” Sidney quickly murmured. The thought of going to your old bedroom- a place he’d spent hours in. Hours talking, snuggling, and… other things. It felt too invasive to just appear unannounced and throw you off kilter. Your mom understood, realizing the suggestion was a little outlandish.
“I’ll be right back.”
He stood there awkwardly, shoving his hands into his pockets as he took a deep breath, willing his heart to slow down. And then there you were. Your mom disappeared, leaving you two alone.
You were quick to step out onto the porch, shutting the door behind you, knowing damn well your mom would be snooping. “Sidney.”
You said his name so simply. So soft. So matter of fact. He almost forgot how to talk. You looked just as beautiful as he remembered. Better than the grocery store. Your hair pulled into two messy little braids, bandana pushing the fly aways back. Bare face, a little tired looking. Cute. You wore shorts and an old band tee that had paint smeared on it. Upon closer inspection, your knees and left cheek also had paint. You smelled like paint.
“Sorry did I interrupt something?” Ever the observant Sidney. He mentally punched himself.
You shrugged, shaking your head. “Naw. Nothing important. I’m repainting my bedroom. The mint green I chose in elementary school isn’t really the vibe anymore.”
He laughed softly, hands still buried in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Yeah. That’s fair.” He glanced at the paint on your body. White. Maybe primer. “What colours it gonna be now?”
“Off white… thinking about doing a nice earthy green or brown accent wall… not sure yet.”
He gave an animatedly enthusiastic nod, the small talk awkward, both of you well aware he wasn’t here to talk about interior design.
“Sounds nice.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.”
You stared at each other for a few seconds as you cleared your throat, straightening a little. “So… is there a reason….”
“Fuck. Yeah, sorry. I guess I’m just- I don’t know. I don’t even know why I’m here.”
Huh. You frowned slightly, giving him a once over again. His jeans fit well, a basic white tshirt that hugged his broad chest. His hair still damp from what you assumed was the shower. “Okay….”
He let out a small huff of air, shaking his head as he avoided your gaze. “Fuuuckkks sake. Geez I’m sorry y/n this was kinda stupid. I tried to text you but your number didn’t work… just- I figured if you’re in town again, I was wondering if… if maybe like…”
“You wanna grab a coffee?”
You finished his question for him, rescuing him from his fumbling mess of words. Sidney audibly sighed, shoulders slumping with relief. “Yeah. Just to catch up. It’s been a long time.”
You made a small humming noise of agreement. “I’m kind of a mess right now… but how about tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow’s great. Like around seven?”
Your nose scrunched in protest. Fuck that was adorable. Sidney had to avoid staring. “Not all of us are on athlete time schedules. How about nine?”
“Yeah. Good point. Nine is great. Wanna go to JJ’s? Or…”
If Sidney was being honest JJ’s was the only coffee shop he knew existed in the small town. A regular location you two often hit when you were dating…. A cute little cafe that served breakfast and lunch as well. “I like JJ’s,” you confirmed. “I’ll meet you there?”
“Yeah. That’d be great.”
“Cool.”
“Cool.”
Sidney tugged his hands from his jeans pockets, brushing off his jeans in a way that made it evident he didn’t know what to do with himself. “Ok. I’ll see you then.”
You began to open your front door, smiling softly at him before he suddenly added. “Can I- get your new number? Just in case… I’m running late or something.”
“Sure. In case you’re running late.”
He handed you his phone. Watched you type in the digits, then give it back to him.
“Congratulations. On the cup by the way. Captain Crosby. When’s it your turn with it?”
Sidney paused. He’d almost forgotten that. Right. He had even more status now. Kind of. “Thanks,” he replied in the most strained tone possible. What was his issue? “Uhm… I already had it.”
You nodded at his words. Your school year went a little later since you were abroad and you hadn’t even been back home when he brought the cup. You’d missed the fanfare. Probably for the best.
“Right. I forgot, my dad… mentioned it. You took it on a jet ski or something.”
He cringed a little, flushing brighter. “Yeah. I did that. Stupid.”
“Eh,” you shrugged. “I’d probably do the same thing. Anyways…”
He cleared his throat a little as you hinted at the conversation coming to an end, moving backwards a little and allowing you to step back into your house. “See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
He waved goodbye as you softly closed the door catching a glimpse of your mom peeking out the kitchen window.
The next morning Sidney showed up to the cafe fifteen minutes early. He avoided taking a seat, wondering if it would be a stretch to ask you if you wanted to walk along the water. It was a gorgeous morning. Not too hot, not too cold, the sun out, birds chirping. He settled for sitting on the bench outside the cafe, nervously checking his watch, running his fingers through his hair. Behaving like an anxious teenager all over again. He had to remind himself this wasn’t a date. Again, he wasn’t even sure you were single. You were his ex. An old friend he was just catching up with.
He recognized your car. The same beat up Jetta you’d had for only God knew how long. It was more rust than vehicle now. He watched you park, get out of your car, eyes immediately catching his as you gave a soft smile and wiggle of your fingers. You looked even better than last night. Hair loose this time, brushed out, a tanktop and jeans that hugged you nicely paired with a cute cardigan and oodles of shiny bracelets and rings. Always bedazzled. Nothing had changed about you in that way. He liked that. You were always the cooler one out of you two in his opinion.
You made it to the front door of the shop as he stood. He considered hugging you- no. That’s weird. Instead he just opened the door for you. “Hey. Long time no see.”
You laughed a little as you went inside. “Yeah. Been a whole… What, like… fourteen hours? Fifteen?”
“Something like that.”
You smiled vaguely as he watched you look up at the menu boards. Sidney cleared his throat a little. “Did you want to get food or anything? Breakfast?”
You looked back at him.
“It’s ok. I ate at home. I need coffee though. Maybe a muffin…” you contemplated, directing your gaze now to the display case of baked goods.
“I was thinking we could maybe walk… if you wanted. Really nice weather Yknow?”
“Sure. That’d be nice.”
You ordered, Sidney wanted to pay, and though he made a move to, he pulled back last second deciding that was an overstep. Too much. He didn’t want to freak you out. You did end up getting a muffin, Sidney matching you as you made your way out of the shop to the water front. “Mmm. Still the best caramel latte in all of Nova Scotia,” you mused as you sipped your iced drink. Sidney nodded with a smile. Yet another thing thar hadn’t changed about you. Same coffee order.
“I know. That’s why they’re still in business.”
You fell into step with one another, still a little quiet. You spoke first, looking at the water rather than Sidney. “So… how’s life?”
He let out a heaving sigh like that was the most loaded question you could’ve given him. Your brow furrowed as you turned your eyes to him.
“It’s good.”
He didn’t elaborate. Didn’t give you details, and the tone of his voice was far from enthusiastic.
“Just good?” You scoffed a little, kicking a pebble beneath your feet. “Sidney you’re the captain of an NHL team. You’re the face of Canadian hockey. You’re every little athletes hero….oh right, and you won the fucking Stanley cup before you’ve even turned twenty two.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
You paused in your tracks abruptly turning to him, face serious. “Not a big deal? Not a big deal?? Sidney Patrick Crosby can you stop being humble for once in your life?”
Sidney crumpled a little bit like a scolded puppy, staring at the ground before he cautiously peeked up to meet your piercing stare. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize- I just…. I should be the one apologizing. That was aggressive. I just don’t know why you’re acting like your life is nothing special. To be honest it’s kinda annoying.”
“Sorry,” he repeated, a cautious murmur. You raised an eyebrow and he cringed. “I meant- not sorry. I’ll stop apologizing. You’re right. It’s not fair to act like my life is insignificant .”
He realized that it must’ve been a smack in your face. Being so casual about his career when you’d just been in school for years, spending hours studying, writing papers, losing sleep, all while holding a part time job in a country you didn’t know. Out of the two of you his life was definitely easier.
“I’m just genuinely curious. Like… what’s it like?”
“What? Playing hockey?”
“Yeah. That. And being captain. And iconic. And winning the cup. All of it.” You both began walking again, done with your scolding.
If Sidney was honest, you reaming him out made his heart skip a beat. He didn’t like that. Didn’t like how easy it was to be distracted by your mere existence.
“It’s really cool. That’s my honest answer. Like… the fact that my job is just playing the sport I love? They pay me too much.”
“Must be tough.”
Sidney twitched a little, grimacing. “That’s not- sorry-“
“Hey,” you reprimanded him again, reminding him that was enough with the apologies.
“Right. Uhm- but what I meant is that’s not what I meant. I just meant that it’s stupid they pay me so much. It’s not like I’m contributing anything that important to society…. I mean, like what about doctors, and teachers, and stuff…” he was rambling. He was pretty sure he said the word ‘meant’ twenty times in that one explanation. “I just meant…” he faded off, deciding it was better to just shut up.
“It’s not your fault. That’s a societal issue,” you stated simply, Sidney grateful that you didn’t seem to react to his sloppy speech patterns. Somehow talking to you was way harder than any sort of post game interview. “I’m not actually offended by the way. I was just teasing you…”
“Right. I- should’ve gathered that… you were always heavy on the sarcasm.”
“Still am. You act like it’s been decades,” you observed, voice getting quieter. “Like you’re shocked that I’m still me.”
He grunted in acknowledgment, realizing that you were right. He was treating you like you were a whole new person who’d just lived an entire lifetime without him. Four years was a lot, sure, but not to the extent that you’d become boring and lost the personality he remembered.
“I guess I’m just not sure what to say to you. There’s a huge elephant in the room and all-“
“We’re just two people catching up.”
His stomach dropped a little at your words. So abrupt and direct. Maybe you had moved on, matured more than he had. You’d probably met someone… he was reading into everything too much, his hopes too high, his delusions soaring. Why did he even go to your house? What was he trying to gain from talking to you? He was just reopening the same wound that never seemed to fully heal.
“Yeah. I know.”
You both didn’t talk for a long while, the silence uncomfortable rather than natural. And then, like the idiot he was, Sidney blurted out, “are you seeing anyone?”
You felt your mouth physically dry up at the question. You hesitated, glancing sideways at him for a second. “No. You?”
“No,” he almost laughed the word, and you raised an eyebrow.
“That’s not a ridiculous question. I’ve seen the magazine covers. You’re North America’s golden boy heart throb. Sexy Sid the kid, models knocking on your door-”
“Can you not?”
He cut you off, tone a little harsher than intended as you recoiled. He wanted to say sorry again- but that word was banned right now. So he just pursed his lips as you narrowed your eyes at him slightly.
“Why? I’m not wrong.”
“It just…makes me feel weird. I’m not like that, I don’t give a fuck what women want me…I’m not about that lifestyle.” He paused, finding his next words. “I’m still just Sidney, by the way. You’re acting like I’m not.”
You didn’t say anything in response, processing his words. He was right. You were being unfair. You were making him uncomfortable and that wasn’t cool… if you were being perfectly honest with yourself, you were definitely projecting something. Some kind of insecurity or hurt you still hadn’t quite gotten over after all these years.
“It’s my turn to say sorry I guess,” you finally offered up, guilt swallowing your voice as you mumbled the words.
“No. No, you have every right to make those assumptions. I got defensive.”
“A little bit,” you agreed, raising your hand and pinching your fingers at him. Sidney smiled at that. A small smile, but a smile nonetheless. And just like that the uncomfortable tension faded as much as it could when two exes were essentially on a coffee date. Even if you tried to state you were just old friends earlier. Yet another asshole move on your part. Why were you acting like this?
First you snapped at him for his humility, then you borderline insinuated he was a womanizer now. It was like you wanted him to hate you- which obviously you didn’t- but you weren’t sure why you were behaving so self destructively. You annoyed yourself. And yet, he was still patient, and for that your heart skipped a beat. Fuck him. Fuck him and his patience…
“Anyways,” Sidney breathed, moving the conversation along. “You still never fully answered me. How are you? The thirty second check in at the store didn’t really enlighten me about your life at all.”
“Good.” It wasn’t a lie. But seeing him now? It felt like one. “I’ve been good. I’m tired, glad to be back home and see my family…”
“I get that.”
“I guess you would…” You were more similar than you really allowed yourself to believe. Because yes- Sidney was on a whole other sphere of fame and fortune- but at the end of the day you were both still two small town kids who’d spread their wings into the big, busy world. And now here you were. Both of you back in Cole Harbour, winding down and processing life.
“Yeah. I know it’s different, but it’s also not, y’know?” He spoke the exact words you’d been thinking and you nodded in agreement.
“Has Pittsburgh been treating you well at least?”
“Very. I love it. Even if it’s overwhelming sometimes.”
“Understandable,” You snorted a little. You could never be in the limelight like that. You were shocked Sidney could, but then again he’d matured and developed skills, handling stress that a teenager version of himself could never have. “Is it hard to like…exist? I mean, I doubt you can grab a bite to eat without signing fifty autographs.”
He let out an amused huff of air. “It’s hard sometimes, yeah, but some of the guys on the team let me know local places that are more lowkey…where I’m not as likely to get recognized, and if I am, people don’t care. But it’s also a little cool. Mostly the kids that recognize me.”
“They really look up to you, huh?”
He nodded, sheepish in a way, like the fact was embarrassing. “Yeah. I see a lot of mini sized eighty seven jerseys. Some pregnant woman got me to sign a literal infant sized t-shirt once for a baby that hadn’t even been born yet…”
“That’s wild.”
“I know, I know…Hockey fans are wild.”
“Oh I’m aware. Have you met my dad and brother?”
Sidney grinned at that. Gosh he missed your family. Seeing your mom had already made those bittersweet emotions rise up and him, but the mention of the rest of your family? Gone were the days of dinner at your house…street hockey with your brother…Having a second set of parents.
You interrupted Sidney’s racing mind as you pointed towards a bench by the docks that you’d now walked to. The area was relatively empty aside from two or three middle aged men who appeared to be fixing up a rusted out Cape Islander, some soft seventies rock playing from a hidden source as they worked. You assumed they were prepping it for personal use- your town wasn’t exactly a commercial fishing hub. You almost laughed a little bit about how stereotypical the sight was. You missed this. Despite constantly wanting to escape after the initial move when you were younger, now there was nothing more nostalgic and comforting than the town you’d spent some of your most formative years in.
Sidney led the way, wiping the bench a little bit with his hand before you sat down, staring out at the water. You sighed deeply, both of you quiet for a while until you felt his gaze on you. You flicked your eyes to your right, catching him in the act. He had this soft look in his eyes… a look you knew well. A look that eighteen year old Sidney seemed to always be wearing in your presence.
“What?”
You asked the word so softly you were surprised he even heard you. Then he smiled. Just slightly, lip quirking up as he never once broke his stare. “I was just thinking… how much has happened. In less than five years- you’ve lived across the ocean, finished school-“
“For now.”
“For now,” he corrected with a nod. He knew you’d always wanted to get your masters. Maybe more. That was part of the reason you didn’t want to turn down the overseas opportunity. “Anyways. You’ve done so much. And I’ve moved too- I’m a captain of a fucking NHL team which is just,” he shook his head like he was trying to reorient himself. “Anyways. What I’m saying is we’ve both done so much. Changed so much. But you’re still- so you.”
“What does that mean?” You asked, scrunching your nose at him.
“It’s a good thing,” he clarified, gauging your expression as a negative one. He opened his mouth to continue, then paused, letting out an almost choked sound before he broke eye contact for the first time, looking down at the now empty coffee cup in his hand. He placed it on the bench beside him, swallowing thickly. “I don’t know why I broke up with you y/n.”
The words poured out before he could stop them. Raw and honest. You felt winded by the confession, body tensing a little as you waited for him to continue, not wanting to interrupt. You wanted him to keep talking. You wanted to know what was going through his head.
“I don’t know why I couldn’t just- work harder. It literally wouldn’t have been that hard to just pick up my damn phone more. Fly out to visit you a few times…” he finally risked looking up again and you swore you saw a hint of dampness in his eyes before he blinked it away.
“Sidney, we both agreed it was the best decision.”
“But why? Like, be so for real y/n why couldn’t we have just figured something out? It wasn’t that hard, and I thought breaking up was going to fix my anxiety? You were the only thing in my life that didn’t make me anxious, and I didn’t realize that till after- and then it was too late and everything, and I mean everything felt so much worse. Because I didn’t have my person anymore. I didn’t have anyone that understood me like you did.”
He was talking so fast you had a bit of trouble catching up, brow scrunched in concentration as he poured out his heart. He was breathing heavier, enough so that you could hear his shaky inhales. And then the question. “Are we done forever?”
If you thought his first statement about not knowing why you broke up was a gut punch, this was a million times worse. You weren’t sure what to say, your mouth dry, a million and one thoughts swirling in your mind. And then as if on autopilot, without any critical thought, you squeaked out a word. “No.”
“No as in-“
“As in no, we’re not done forever. As in- as in I still think about you. All the time.”
“Are you serious?” His brow was wrinkled so tightly it looked like it hurt.
“Are you?”
“Yeah,” he almost laughed at the words, voice cracking a high pitched noise that made him flush. “Yeah, I’m so fucking serious! I don’t know why I broke up with you and I think about you all the time too. I thought it would get better, I thought I’d finally stop thinking about you…but then I saw you and I could barely function.”
You were overwhelmed. This felt surreal. This moment shouldn’t have been happening, you weren’t supposed to ever be back here with him, feeling all of these emotions that were meant to be burnt away ages ago. You both didn’t know what else to say, the only noises you could hear being your racing heart, the distant water birds, and the music from the docs. The music. Soft drawling voices as you registered the song and nearly laughed out loud at the absurdity.
Wild Horses by the Rolling Stones. It felt like some corny romcom scene you’d make fun of for being unrealistic and cringey. Sidney registered the music too, looking up to the docs where the men working had no clue the significance of their playlist had right now. He looked back at you, shaking his head as a laugh bubbled up from his throat and you broke too. Laughing hard, eyes welling up against your will.
“Fuck y/n.”
There wasn’t anything else to be said as Sidney’s hand moved forward, fingers threading in yours. Warm and calloused, but familiar all the same. You were both still giggling a little bit, almost giddy, your nervous systems malfunctioning from everything that had just happened. You looked up again at the maintenance men, one of them glancing absentmindedly at you as well before he kept working. “You think they think we’re crazy?”
“I don’t care,” He squeezed your hands tightly, pulling your eyes back to him. “I don’t care about anything else right now.” Your eyes lingered on one another, grinning like idiots before Sidney hummed the tune of the song slightly. “Wild horses couldn’t drag me away,” he murmured the lyrics, singing along with Mick Jagger’s rough vocals, so bad you keeled over in another fit of laughter.
“Stop it-” you choked. “This is so cringey. Genuinely-”
“You think I’m bad at singing?”
“Yes!”
He scoffed, tugging you closer before his one hand let go of yours, moving to cup your cheek. Your heart stopped, giggles fading. “Can we stop this? The pathetic yearning?”
“S’not pathetic, it’s romantic,” you rebutted, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Unnecessary pain and suffering and miscommunication…but romantic.”
“So you’re gonna let me be your boyfriend again, right?”
“Obviously.”
“And we’re going to work through the issues, and communicate, and not give up so easily, right?”
“Obviously.”
Sidney’s smile was so big it hurt, corners of his mouth aching as he leaned forward a bit, his breath hitching as he watched your tongue dart out to wet your glossy lips a little. Then he closed the gap. Somehow over the years you’d become even sweeter. Even warmer, softer… he audibly gasped against your lips before he pulled away, cheeks pink with embarrassment at his noise. It comforted him a bit to see you pink as well and still grinning as widely as before.
“I missed that. A lot.”
“Me too.”
And then he was kissing you again, one hand moving to cup the back of your head, fingers threading in your tangled hair. The kiss deepened, his arms pulling you closer to his chest as you moved in sync. It was muscle memory. Familiar and comfortable. A few minutes passed before you parted again, both breathing heavier than before. You were giggling like an idiot, forehead leaned against his as he matched your laughter, Sidney pulling back to press a soft kiss just above your eyebrow as he tugged you into the crook of his neck, hugging you with a grip that told you he wasn’t ever letting go again.
You nuzzled into him happily, smile never once leaving your face. And then you paused as he shifted against you, that broad smile suddenly dropping. “What is tha- oh….”
Sidney was pink, looking a little guilty as you stared down at his lap, then back to his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispered. “Didn’t mean to ruin a nice moment….”
“Ruin?” You scoffed, tilting your head, hand slowly shifting, fingers creeping up his thigh. “I heard you bought your own place… private. Somewhere that’s not my childhood bedroom.”
Gosh you were going to be the death of him, the way you looked at him through your lashes… he shuddered a little. “Yeah. It’s private.”
You abandoned your car and opted to take Sidney’s, leg bouncing as you rode in the passenger seat, eyes fixed on him. He however, was transfixed on the road ahead, flushed all over, tent in his jeans impossible to conceal. He slapped your hand away as you tried to touch, giving you a disapproving side eye. “I’m driving”
“I’m horny.”
He grunted, voice cracking as he let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. Same. Obviously. Behave.”
“Okay captain Crosby. So… bossy. And in charge.”
He still didn’t fully look at you, his lips pursed as he rolled his eyes. “I’ll stop the car and kick you out right now.”
“Geez sorryyyyy.”
The drive to his house was short despite feeling like hours, and the moment he parked, Sidney was moving to the passenger door, yanking it open, and scooping you up bridal style. You squealed as he smashed his mouth into yours, stumbling into his home (which was crazy to you, but then again he was making a lot of money)
He beelined for his bedroom, kicking off shoes, stumbling with haste as you were thrown on the bed already panting. “You owe me a tour.”
“Later.” A low grunt as he grabbed the bottom of your tanktop, pulling it off, eyes fixated on your chest. “Cute.” He added, looking between your floral lace bra and your eyes. And then your lips were locked again. Somewhere in the makeout session Sidney’s shirt was also removed, the feeling of his much broader and harder chest making your thighs clench as he pulled back after a while, standing fully at the edge of the bed.
He dropped his jeans, belt buckle jangling as he moved forward again, your eyes drinking him in as you grinned. “What?” He chuckled.
“Your ass has gotten bigger,” you commented, causing a noise of surprise to escape Sidney as he scrunched his brow, giving you an unbelieving grin, “is it from all the squats?”
“Oh my gosh,” he mumbled shaking his head before he crawled forward, caging you in. He kissed you for the hundredth time, pulling back to see you still grinning cheekily. “Yes it’s from the squats. You happy?”
“I like it. But I’m a little upset it’s lowkey way bigger than mine. Kinda embarassing.”
“Shut up.”
“Make me.”
Sidney gladly obliged, lips smashing into yours harder this time, hands trailing up your bare torso, sliding behind your back to your bra, unclasping it. He groaned at the sight of your tits. He’d missed them, lips moving down your jaw before they settled just above your breasts, making you gasp. “Sid…”
“What?”
“You know what…” you whispered, voice strained. He just smiled against your skin, before he took your left nipple between his into his mouth making you jolt suddenly. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been this turned on, dick aching in his boxers. It was reminiscent of how he felt losing his virginity (which he did to you). Exciting but nerve wracking. He pulled back, trail of saliva hanging between his puffy lips and your nipple as you nearly came at the sight alone. “I wanna feel you. Right now. Enough foreplay…”
“Greedy.”
“As if you aren’t too,” you mumbled as he moved to undo your bottoms as well, sliding them down your thighs as you lifted your bum to help.
“Look at these pretty legs. Gonna need them wrapped around my face another time.”
Your breath hitched at the comment. Yeah. Yeah you needed that. But now you needed him inside you. His fingers brushed over your damp panties, a smirk on his lips as he cupped your cunt, thumb bumping your clit through the thin fabric as you squealed. “You’re dripping.”
“And you’ve been hard since I kissed you twenty minutes ago.”
“You’re really fucking sexy. So sue me.”
“I just might.”
A low chuckle, and then he was removing your panties next. Sidney paused as he fully pulled the fabric away, taking a moment to sit there on his knees and just stare. His mouth watered at the sight, dick twitched, eyes slowly tracing from head to toe. He couldn’t describe it- how good you looked spread naked in front of him. A sight he’d missed. You’d changed a little bit. Four years did that. ‘Second puberty’ or whatever they called it. You were a little fuller, more womanly. Hotter in Sidney’s opinion. He liked it. Your supple breasts, soft stomach, thick thighs… his thumb slowly moved back between your legs, finger poking experimentally at your hole as you whined. That was enough for him to push in without warning, curling his digit in a way that made you arch off the bed yet again. His grin widened as his thumb moved in sync over your clit, other hand pushing down his boxers to free his dick. You couldn’t lie- it was bigger than you remembered. Dripping and red, evident that he’d been hard a long while. Some other time you’d definitely suck him off and he’d definitely eat you out. Just not now.
“Sidney please,” your voice was a broken whimper as he leaned over you, caging you in as he grasped his cock and grazed it through your wet folds.
“Please what?”
“Don’t do that,” you groaned, frustrated. “No games.”
“Hmph.”
He pulled his other hand away, supporting his weight on one arm and focusing on lining up properly. He looked up to your face, your eyes both locking. And then he slowly, almost hesitantly pushed in. A choked gasp from you, a broken groan from Sidney… your body tight, bracing as he sunk deeper and deeper, bottoming out with a whimper of your name.
“Holy shit you feel so fucking good. I can’t- I- fuck-“
He was a mess. The feeling of you wrapped around him, warm, tight, still fit him like your bodies were made for each other. He looked down where you were connected, panting as he gave an experimental thrust of his hips before he met your eyes again and instantly froze. You were staring at him, fat, hot tears bubbling up and rolling down your cheeks.
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck baby I’m so sorry did I hurt you? I’m sorry-“ he began to pull out before you reached for his shoulder to stop him.
“No- no you didn’t- it feels amazing I just,” your breath caught a little as you laid beneath his body. “I just- I just missed you so much.” Your last few words got swallowed up by a tiny little sob, your fingers gripping his bicep harder, almost like you were scared if you let go, you’d wake up and this would all have been a dream.
Sidney’s heart ached. His hands moved to your hips, hitching them upwards slightly to get a deeper angle as he pushed your knees to your chest, caging you in and filling you as much as he could as his face hovered above yours, emotion rising and tightening his throat. “Missed you too,” he whispered, raspy, kissing you briefly, moving to wipe a tear away. “Thought about you a lot. Regretted ever cutting it off. Got mad at myself for thinking about hockey so much…”
“No…” you mumbled. “No- I want you to think about hockey. I’m proud of you. It’s not your fault. It’s the timing… it was bad timing.”
“I still shouldn’t have ever broken up with you.”Another lingering kiss as he pulled back again, thrusting slowly back inside you as you both gasped. Another, another, in, out, in, out, breathing growing laboured and heavy as your nails pricked his skin. “I tried to date girls in Pittsburgh,” he confessed between rolls of his hips, your jaw slack as you whimpered below him. “Went on dates, had a few fucking awful hookups. They all looked like you.”
Your stomach twisted at his words. Between the pleasure of his cock moving inside you and jolting nature of what he’d just said, you clenched tightly around him making him moan and pause his movements.
“Sid…”
“No. I’m serious. I was such a fuckin’ idiot. Didn’t even realize I’d just been chasing women I thought would make me happy when you were constantly in the back of my mind. I never felt anything with them. Never ever had that spark. Our fucking spark.” Now he was getting emotional. Eyes growing damp as he hugged you impossibly close. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you- you- you idiot,” he broke into a small laugh at the end of his words. The insult that wasn’t really an insult. The bizarre nature of pouring his heart out while he was balls deep inside you… you matched his laugh through your tears, sniffling a little bit.
“I hated the British dudes,” your turn to confess, to which Sidney laughed again, both of you giggling softly. “I missed your fuckass east coast hockey boy accent.”
“I do not have one of those.”
“Do too. And I love it.”
His hands secured themself at the backs of your thighs as he kept you folded in on yourself, pace growing quicker as your conversation faded off and Sidney’s focus turned to feeling you. Feeling how perfect you were, listening to your noises of pleasure, watching your face scrunch up in bliss as you clung to him, soft moans leaving you with each jolt of his cock inside you.
“Don’t stop,” you whimpered the words so quietly he barely caught them. He quickened his face, moving to brace one hand above your pussy, thumb working in circles over your clit as he stuttered at the feeling of you clenching tighter around him.
“Ooooh fuck baby- I’m close…”
“Me too,” the tears were still flowing. “I love you.”
He tried to respond, tried to tell you he loved you back, but suddenly he gasped, you cunt spasming around him as you cried out loudly, sobbing his name as your orgasm hit you in crashing waves. Sidney grew sloppy, movements getting weaker as he chased his own high, finally letting out a deep groan as he jolted forward, spilling inside you, rope after rope of cum that made your eyes roll back and toes curl. He crumpled slightly on top of you, both of you panting heavily before he lifted himself enough to not smush you completely. He pulled out, lying down beside you as you stared at the ceiling, chest rising and falling rapidly. The room smelt of sex and sweat. His arm was draped around you, a heavy silence fell over you two for what felt like an eternity. You rubbed at your eyes and the few stray tears as Sidney finally spoke.
“That was fucking amazing.”
You smiled a little bit as he pulled you closer to him. “It was,” you agreed quietly. “I missed that.”
“Me too. Not just the sex.”
“I know,” your voice was soft as you tilted your head to look at him again. “But the sex is really good,” you gave him a cheeky grin which he matched, finger moving out to poke your nose. He groaned as he finally sat up, eyes tracing over you. A trail of White was already leaking from between your thighs.
“Kinda didn’t ask about if you were on the pill or anything….”
“It’s ok. IUD. Worst case morning after pill.”
He nodded, eyes flickering with something unspoken.
“What?” You asked.
He shook his head a little, shrugging. “Nothing.”
“Don’t lie,” you moved your foot to nudge him with it.
“Just thought about what would happen…”
“What would happen if…?”
“You weren’t- like… on anything. Like if I got you pregnant.”
“Slow down. We just got back together.”
He held his hands up in surrender, chuckling. “Woah woah. Sorry. That’s not what I was implying at all.” He quickly said. “Sorry. Again.”
“You apologize a lot.”
“Just don’t want to freak you out. That was a weird thing to say.”
You narrowed your eyes at him as he said the words so innocently. So genuinely. He was thinking about your future now. A future you both didn’t think you’d ever have. Hasty? Yes. Very. And he acknowledged that. But at the same time, it felt like those four years had never passed. Like you were two high school kids happy and in love again, no time zone issues, no NHL distractions, no breakup. And you couldn’t help but think that maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe you would have kids. Maybe not. Maybe you would get married, move in together… maybe you’d find a job in Pittsburgh… or you’d go elsewhere and he’d make sure he kept those FaceTime calls regular.
Sidney’s mind was full of the same things. The maybes. The optimism. The hope that this time he wouldn’t let you go. This time you’d matured more, and you’d push through the difficulties. The hope that he’d never miss that spark ever again. The little sizzle between you two. The butterflies that never wanted to disappear.
He smiled, standing, locating his boxers and sliding them on as he moved into the washroom, returning a moment later with a damp wash cloth, climbing onto the bed and gently parting your legs. Watching you as he cleaned you up, eye contact never once breaking.
“You’re really, really beautiful. In case I didn’t say that.”
“You’ve said it,” you blushed a little.
“I’ll say it over and over.”
“You’re really really handsome. In case I didn’t say that.” You parroted him and Sidney laughed that same warm noise as he rummaged through his drawers, handing you a pair of his boxers and a tshirt. You raised an eyebrow at him, glancing at the bedside clock that was on the nightstand.
“It’s mid day,” you commented. “This is bedtime wear.”
“Your panties are still wet, you really wanna wear them again?”
You rolled your eyes playfully as you slid his clothes on. They smelt the same as you remembered. Soft cotton against your body, wrapped in a piece of him. “My mom’s gonna cry from joy when I tell her we’re back together.”
“Good. I love your mom.”
“I know.”
Sidney made you lunch as you two chatted. Still so much to catch up on… friends both of you had made, stories of your unhinged professors and Sidney’s questionable teammates. Some guy named Geno that you were mildly concerned was your competition.
He was a great cook, happy when you gave his pasta two thumbs up. Happy that you were there next to him in general.
“So…. How’s the job market in Pittsburgh?”
Sidney perked up, pausing mid bite.
“Dunno. But I’ve got enough money now you can do whatever the hell you want. And if you don’t want to live in Pittsburgh or Nova Scotia I’m using that money to make sure I see you as often as we need.”
“Good.”
He nodded. “Good.”
It was a promise, soft and simple. But a promise all the same. In his tone of voice, and the look he was giving you. Sidney was never giving you up again.
Those were the words Azriel had said on the street under the stars, his hand wrapped around mine, his voice so quiet I almost hadn't heard it.
Those were also the words he had meant.
Three weeks had passed since that night, and somewhere in those three weeks, my entire life had changed without me even realising when it happened.
Azriel had quietly, casually, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, moved us into a small cottage he owned on the quieter edge of Velaris.
He hadn't made a big announcement about it. He hadn't asked in some grand, dramatic way.
He had just said, "I have somewhere I think you'd like better," and the next thing I knew, we were standing in front of a small stone cottage with ivy crawling up the walls and smoke curling from the chimney.
I had loved it immediately.
The Townhouse had never really been mine. It had always felt like I was borrowing space in someone else's life, walking through rooms that belonged to other people, living in a place where I was always slightly out of place.
But the cottage... the cottage felt like something that could belong to me. To us.
When I had asked Azriel why he had lived in the Townhouse with me if he had owned this place the entire time, he had looked at me like the answer was obvious.
"I wanted to be where you were," he had said simply.
That had been the end of the conversation, but not the end of the way my heart had reacted to those words.
This morning, I woke slowly, warm and comfortable in a way I wasn't used to.
Golden sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, painting the room in soft light. For a moment, I didn't move, still half-asleep, listening to the quiet sounds of the cottage, birds outside, the faint creak of wood, the steady breathing behind me.
Behind me.
I became aware of the arm draped over my waist, the warmth of a body pressed along my back, the slow rise and fall of Azriel's chest against my shoulder.
Last night had been the first night we had fallen asleep in the same bed.
Not because we had to. Not because of the bond. Not because of anything except that at some point, while talking and laughing quietly under the blankets like teenagers, we had both fallen asleep without meaning to.
He had been very careful with me these past weeks.
Careful in a way that was almost painful to watch. He never pushed, never assumed, never took more space than I offered.
We had separate rooms in the cottage and he had made it very clear from the beginning that nothing between us would be forced just because we were mates.
So this, waking up in his arms felt like a choice. My choice. His choice.
Our choice.
I shifted slightly, and his arm tightened around me immediately, instinctively, like he had been awake longer than I realised.
I turned my head slightly and found hazel eyes already watching me.
He looked softer in the morning. Less like the Night Court's Shadowsinger and more like just... Azriel. Just the male who watched me like I was something fragile and important all at once.
"Good morning," I mumbled, my voice still thick with sleep.
"Morning," Azriel replied quietly, his voice low and rough like he hadn't spoken yet today. His arms tightened around me slightly as he buried his face briefly in my hair.
I closed my eyes for a moment, just feeling it, the warmth, the safety, the steady way he held me like he wasn't afraid of me disappearing.
There was one feeling I had never felt with Azriel.
Forgotten.
With him, I was never forgotten. Never overlooked. Never the extra person in the room. Never the sister that people remembered last.
With him, I felt... chosen. Every day. In small, quiet ways.
"What are you going to do today?" he asked after a moment, his nose brushing lightly against my hair.
I smiled a little. "I was thinking I might go to the market. Maybe get some fruit. Try cooking something again, even though the last time was a disaster."
"It wasn't a disaster," he said immediately.
"It caught on fire, Azriel."
He paused. "A small fire."
I laughed softly, and the sound seemed to make him relax even more behind me. "I might also start that puzzle you brought home," I continued. "The ridiculously hard one."
"The one with all the stars?" he asked.
"Yes. I still think you bought that just to watch me suffer."
"I bought it because you looked at it for ten minutes and didn't realise I was standing next to you," he said. "You only do that when you really like something."
I rolled onto my back slightly so I could look at him properly. "You notice everything, don't you?"
"Everything about you," he said quietly.
There was no hesitation. No embarrassment. Just truth.
I studied his face for a moment, then reached up and brushed a piece of dark hair away from his forehead without really thinking about it. He went very still when I touched him, like even now he wasn't used to casual affection.
"What about you?" I asked. "What are you doing today?"
"I have to go to Windhaven," he said with a small sigh. "Training inspections. Cassian asked me to look at some of the Illyrian camps with him."
"That sounds... violent," I said.
"It usually is," he replied dryly.
I traced a small, absentminded pattern on the back of his hand where it rested on my waist. "Come back early," I said softly.
His eyes shifted to mine immediately at that, something warm and almost surprised flickering across his face.
"I always come back to you," he said.
And for the first time in my life, I believed someone when they said something like that.
I shifted closer to him then, resting my head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. His arm tightened around me again automatically, like this was where I was supposed to be.
For once, my mind wasn't racing. I wasn't thinking about the past, or my sisters, or the Cauldron, or the kidnapping, or the years I had felt invisible.
For once, I was just... happy. Quietly, softly, peacefully happy.
That happiness was interrupted by a small bundle of black fur launching onto the bed and meowing loudly directly into our faces.
I laughed immediately, the sound still a little sleepy. "Good morning to you too, Nova."
Azriel huffed a quiet laugh beside me, one hand coming up to pet her as she aggressively pawed at the blankets and then at his arm like she was personally offended by our lack of movement.
"I think someone's a little hungry," he murmured, scratching under her chin. "And a little impatient."
Nova meowed again, louder this time, then stepped directly onto Azriel's chest and sat down like she owned him.
I pushed myself up onto one elbow, grinning. "She likes you more than me now."
"That's because I feed her extra treats," he replied calmly.
"That is betrayal," I said, gasping slightly. "I saved her life and you win her over with food."
Nova meowed again like she was agreeing with him.
Azriel looked at the cat very seriously. "You're causing problems in my relationship."
Nova blinked slowly and then headbutted his chin.
I laughed again, sliding out of bed and stretching slightly, wincing only a little where my injuries were still healing.
"Come on, traitor," I said to Nova. "Let's get you food before you start committing crimes."
Azriel followed me into the small kitchen a moment later, still half-smiling in that quiet way he did now more often than not.
The cottage kitchen was small but warm, sunlight spilling across the wooden counters, a small table by the window, herbs hanging to dry near the back door.
It felt like a real home. Not a palace. Not a townhouse full of important people and important decisions.
Just a home.
I scooped food into Nova's bowl and set it down, and she immediately attacked it like she hadn't eaten in weeks.
"She definitely likes you more," I said, watching her.
Azriel leaned against the counter, arms crossed loosely. "She follows you from room to room. She sleeps on your clothes. She screams when you leave the house. I think I'm just the chef."
"That sounds right," I nodded seriously.
He walked over then, stopping behind me, and I felt his hands settle lightly on my hips, his chin resting briefly on my shoulder. The contact was still new enough that every time he touched me like this, my heart did something stupid and warm in my chest.
"You're happy here," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
I nodded slightly. "I am."
His arms tightened just a little around me, like that answer meant more to him than I understood.
Before either of us could say anything else, there was a knock on the front door. We both froze.
Azriel's shadows immediately stirred slightly around the room, reacting before he even moved, and he straightened behind me.
"I'll get it," he said quietly.
Something in his tone made my stomach twist slightly. I didn't know why.
We walked to the door together anyway. When Azriel opened it, I stopped in the hallway.
Feyre, Elain, and Nesta were standing on the small stone path outside the cottage. All three of them looked nervous.
I had never seen Nesta look nervous in my entire life.
For a moment, none of us said anything. The air felt thick and awkward and heavy with everything that had happened at that dinner, everything that had been said that couldn't be unsaid.
Feyre spoke first. "Can we come in?" she asked quietly.
I hesitated, then nodded and stepped back.
They walked into the cottage slowly, looking around like they were trying to understand this new part of my life they had never seen before.
"It's beautiful," Elain said softly, looking at the windows and the flowers outside. "It suits you."
"Thank you," I said quietly.
We all stood awkwardly in the small living room for a moment until Nesta finally spoke, crossing her arms slightly like she was bracing herself.
"We came to apologise," she said bluntly.
I blinked, surprised.
Feyre stepped forward slightly. "We should have come sooner," she said. "After dinner. After everything. But we... we didn't know if you'd want to see us."
"You had every right to say everything you said," Elain added quietly, her eyes already glossy. "We just didn't realise how much you were holding in."
Nesta looked at me directly then, her eyes sharp but not cruel for once. "I was hard on you growing up," she said. "Harder than I should have been. And when we came here... I was so busy surviving, and then rebuilding, and then dealing with my own mess that I didn't see that you were alone."
I didn't say anything. I just listened.
Feyre swallowed slightly. "You were never supposed to feel forgotten. Not by us. Never by us."
"But I did," I said quietly.
"I know," she whispered.
Elain stepped forward then and took my hand gently. "We can't fix the past," she said. "But we want to be better now. If you'll let us."
Nesta nodded once. "We don't expect everything to be fine overnight. But we want to try. If you're willing to give us that chance."
I looked at all three of them, my sisters, who had been my entire world once, then strangers, then something in between.
"I don't know how to fix everything," I admitted quietly.
"We don't either," Feyre said. "We'll figure it out."
I took a slow breath, then nodded slightly. "Okay," I said. "We can try."
Relief visibly washed over all three of them at once.
Feyre stepped forward and hugged me carefully, mindful of my still-healing injuries. Elain hugged me next, lingering like she always did. Nesta hesitated, then pulled me into a quick, tight hug that said more than words ever could.
After a few more quiet words, they left the cottage, promising to visit again soon, promising dinner again but maybe without fighting next time.
When the door closed behind them, the cottage went quiet again.
I stood there for a moment, staring at the door, feeling like something in my life had just quietly shifted back into place.
Then I felt arms slide around my waist from behind. Azriel. He pulled me back gently against his chest, resting his chin on my shoulder.
"You okay?" he asked softly.
I nodded, leaning back into him. "Yeah," I said. "I think I am."
His arms tightened slightly around me, holding me like he always did, like he wasn't afraid of me breaking, but like he would catch me if I did anyway.
For the first time in a long time, everything felt... right. Not perfect. Not magically fixed. But right.
I had a home. I had my sisters. I had Nova. I had him.
And as Azriel pressed a soft kiss against my temple and held me in the quiet little cottage that had somehow become my entire world, I realised this was the perfect ending.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something even better.
Azriel's POV -
Being the Spymaster certainly had its perks.
Information, power, influence, shadows that whispered secrets from across Prythian.
But none of those things compared to this.
I stood quietly in the doorway of the cottage kitchen, watching my mate attempt to cook dinner while Nova committed crimes at her feet and some of my shadows "helped" in the most unhelpful ways possible.
She hadn't noticed me yet.
I hadn't announced my return from Windhaven, I had simply stepped into the house, removed my boots, and followed the sound of her voice into the kitchen.
She was talking. Not to herself. To my shadows.
"Well that's not helpful," she was saying, pointing a wooden spoon at a thin wisp of shadow that was hovering over a bowl. "You can't just knock the flour over and then hide the evidence. That's suspicious behaviour."
The shadow curled in on itself like it was offended.
Another shadow drifted lower and nudged the spoon slightly closer to her hand where she had set it down without realising.
"Oh," she said, noticing. "Thank you. See? You're useful. You can stay."
Nova chose that exact moment to swipe something off the counter and run across the floor with it.
"Nova!" she called, turning quickly. "That's not yours!"
Nova did not listen. Nova never listened.
One of my shadows darted across the floor and blocked Nova's escape route, swirling in front of her like a wall. Nova skidded to a stop, looked at the shadow, then looked deeply offended before dropping the stolen piece of food and meowing loudly.
I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms, and just watched for a moment.
This was not a life I had ever imagined for myself.
I had always assumed my life would be quiet, dark, and solitary. Missions, secrets, violence, shadows, silence. That had been enough for me for centuries.
But now there was flour on the counter, a half-burnt loaf of bread, a cat that stole food, and my shadows, my terrifying, whispering shadows were playing with a piece of string on the floor with Nova like children.
And in the middle of all of it was her. Alive. Safe. In my home. In my life. My mate.
She finally turned slightly and froze when she saw me standing there.
"You're back," she said, and her face immediately softened in that way that still made something in my chest feel too tight.
"I'm back," I said quietly.
She wiped her hands quickly on a cloth and walked over to me without hesitation now, like she had gotten used to me being here, like she expected me to come back to her.
She stopped in front of me and looked up. "How was Windhaven?"
"Cold. Loud. Cassian yelled at a lot of people," I replied.
She smiled slightly. "Sounds accurate."
I reached out and brushed a bit of flour off her cheek with my thumb. "You've made a mess."
"I am cooking," she said defensively.
"You are committing a war crime in our kitchen."
She gasped softly. "Rude. After I cooked for you."
"You haven't cooked anything yet," I said, glancing at the counter. "You've created ingredients."
She tried very hard not to smile and failed.
One of my shadows drifted up between us and gently pushed her hand toward mine where it hung at my side. I looked down at it, then at the shadow.
"Traitor," I muttered.
She laughed softly. "They like me more than you."
"They do not."
"They absolutely do."
Nova jumped onto a chair at that exact moment and meowed loudly like she was contributing to the argument.
I shook my head slightly, then looked back at her. Really looked at her.
Three weeks ago she had been hanging from chains, bruised, bleeding, broken.
Now she was standing in my kitchen, covered in flour, arguing with me about cooking while my shadows played with her cat.
The Mother had given me many things in my long life but this, this was the only gift that had ever mattered.
I reached for her then, sliding a hand gently around the back of her neck and pulling her closer. She didn't hesitate. Didn't pull away. She stepped into me like she belonged there.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," I replied.
Then I kissed her. Slowly. Carefully. Like I had all the time in the world.
Her hands came up to rest lightly against my chest, and she leaned into the kiss like she trusted me, like she wasn't afraid anymore, like she knew I would never let anything happen to her again.
When we finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead lightly against mine for a moment.
"You're staring at me," she whispered.
"I do that," I said.
"I know."
We did eventually abandon the cooking. The bread was slightly burnt, the vegetables unevenly cut, and Nova stole at least three pieces of something when we weren't looking.
Later that evening, we curled up on the couch in the small living room, a blanket thrown over us, Nova firmly planted between us like she was the most important member of the household.
My arm was around her shoulders, her head resting against my chest, my fingers absentmindedly tracing slow circles on her arm while my shadows drifted lazily around the room, calm and quiet and content.
"I like this," she said quietly.
"This?" I asked.
"This life," she said. "This house. You. Nova. The shadows. All of it. I like this life."
I tightened my arm around her slightly and pressed a kiss into her hair. "So do I," I said.
And for the first time in my long, violent, secret-filled life, I realised something as I sat there in a quiet cottage, holding the female I loved while a small black cat slept between us and my shadows rested peacefully around the room.
I had spent centuries living in the dark. And somehow, without me even realising when it happened, she had become my light.
And I would spend the rest of my life making sure she never felt forgotten again.
A/N - Final part!! And obviously we had to end on some soft domestic fluff and a little reconciliation moment... because duh!!
I hope you all enjoyed this! It's definitely on the shorter side and not super plot-heavy, but I was really in the mood to write some hurt/comfort and this little story just kind of became that x
The next series is called "Legacies" and the masterlist is already posted for anybody interested—it's Azriel as a (young adult's) dad with chaos and teasing :)
Thank you so much for reading, I'd love to hear what you think <33
Invisible tag list - @sophieliz @azrielblue @whump-loverz @galacticoceans @lilah-asteria @niiickelodeon @justtryingtosurvive02 @rosie-posie08 @mis-lil-red @dnfhascorruptedme @justreadingfanficseveryday @spookypersondinosaur @jugodeshadowsinger @nyxmoretti @karolamurdock @do-nut25 @90s-belladonna @river-of-woe @prettylittlewrites @blueeclipsepaperstudent @chxosangxl @maddybrooke @napzalot @jada-lockwood @acourtofbatboydreams @pinksnowtiger @awkardnerd @throneofem @starinisstuff @alienmotel @chicken-fifi @itsraininghyunebuckets @dreaming-starlet @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @beloveddiary2 @pieceofmyritualexe @livvyluv44 @napzalot @themoonlitquill @pricklepearbloom @kittykaylat1987 @insomniac-astronomer @sinfully-yoursss @immortaliaslane @saamanthaag3 @tanyaherondale @psychiatry-and-poetry @moonlovefairy - tag list continued in comments
This part takes part BEFORE When the Shadowsinger rests (can be read as solo)
Azriel x reader
fluff / pre-relationship / wing sensitivity / mutual pining / teasing / hurt-comfort
(Before the mating bond)
Azriel returns home injured after a mission, and all you want to do is help. You just didn’t know Illyrian wings were quite that sensitive.
Rain had been falling over Velaris for most of the evening, soft and steady against the windows while the fire crackled low in the sitting room and shadows stretched lazily across the walls.
Cassian occupied one end of the couch with all the elegance of a dying warlord, boots planted shamelessly across the table despite Rhys having threatened him over it often enough that the argument had become part of the house itself by now, while you sat curled into the armchair near the fire pretending to read.
Pretending being the important word.
Because every few minutes your attention drifted back toward the front door.
Toward the threshold.
Toward the absence of shadows.
Azriel had been gone for four days now, and Rhys had offered almost no details beyond some vague mention of trouble near the border that needed handling immediately. Which, apparently, meant Azriel once again being sent directly toward danger while everyone else carried on pretending the male was indestructible.
You hated that.
Hated how easily he threw himself into risk without hesitation, how little value he seemed to place on his own wellbeing compared to everyone else’s. Sometimes it felt as though Azriel only existed in pieces for himself, while the rest of him belonged entirely to duty.
And maybe that was why fear had settled so heavily in your chest tonight.
Because you loved him.
The realization itself was no longer frightening. It had lived inside you quietly for too long now, woven into every glance that lingered a second too long, every instinct that drew you toward him before thought could intervene. Everyone around you seemed to know it too. Cassian certainly did, if the looks he gave you whenever Azriel entered a room meant anything. Feyre knew. Rhys definitely knew.
The only person who never said anything about it was Azriel himself.
Azriel, who always stood too close and never close enough.
Azriel, whose shadows curled around your wrists like they already knew you.
Azriel, who looked at you sometimes with something so restrained and aching in his eyes that your chest hurt afterward.
You had spent years circling each other like this.
And tonight, for the first time, the thought of never breaking that distance terrified you.
What if one day he simply did not come home?
What if something happened to him out there before you ever found the courage to tell him?
What if tonight—
The lock clicked.
Your entire body went still.
Shadows slipped beneath the doorway before Azriel even entered, restless and sharp-edged as they spilled silently across the floor.
Then Azriel stepped inside.
Rainwater dripped steadily from his leathers onto the hardwood floor while exhaustion clung visibly to every line of his body, but your eyes snagged instantly on the streak of blood spread across one of his wings.
Not enough to panic.
Enough that something painful twisted low in your chest anyway.
Cassian noticed too, lowering his feet from the table as he straightened slightly. “Mother above,” he muttered, staring openly at Azriel, “you look like shit.”
Azriel shut the front door behind himself with visible effort before unbuckling Truth-Teller from his side and placing it carefully onto the entry table.
“You’re bleeding,” you said immediately, already rising to your feet.
Azriel glanced once toward the injured wing as though he had forgotten it existed entirely. “It’s superficial.”
“You once said that with a knife through your shoulder,” Cassian reminded him lazily. “You were actively hallucinating at the time.”
Azriel ignored him completely.
Your feet were already carrying you across the room before you had fully decided to move. By the time you stopped directly in front of him, close enough to see the exhaustion carved beneath his eyes, concern had entirely overridden any embarrassment you might have felt at standing so near.
“Upstairs,” you told him softly.
Azriel looked at you for a long second. “I can take care of it.”
“I know you can,” you replied. “That doesn’t mean you should.”
For half a heartbeat he only stared at you, something unreadable flickering behind his exhaustion before your fingers wrapped carefully around his wrist.
His shadows stirred instantly around your hand, shadows that usually reacted to strangers with sharp suspicion now curling briefly against your skin before retreating again, not alarmed or defensive in the slightest but strangely curious, almost familiar, as though they already knew you.
Azriel noticed the movement immediately.
So did Cassian.
The grin beginning to spread slowly across Cassian’s face already made you suspicious.
“You are leaving blood on the floor,” you continued while guiding Azriel toward the stairs before either male could say anything else.
“It’s alright,” Azriel said quietly. “I’ll clean it.”
“Of course you will,” Cassian called after you both with a smirk.
You shot him a look over your shoulder.
Cassian only lifted his drink in salute.
Azriel followed you upstairs without resistance.
That worried you more than if he had argued.
Usually helping Azriel required manipulation, threats, or Feyre physically cornering him with bandages while Rhys laughed nearby. Tonight he only looked tired enough not to fight you over it, his shadows trailing sluggishly behind him as you guided him toward the bathing room adjoining his bedroom.
Steam slowly filled the room while you searched beneath the sink for salves and clean cloths. Behind you, leather hit the floor piece by piece before silence settled softly between you.
Your throat bobbed.
This should not have felt different, but somehow it did. Maybe it was the quiet of the room, or the warmth curling through the steam-filled air, or simply the intimacy of standing here alone with him while rain tapped softly against the windows beyond. Whatever the reason, when you finally turned around again, your breath caught slightly.
Azriel sat on the edge of the bathtub now, broad wings partially unfurled behind him to keep the injured one from brushing the walls. Bruises darkened his ribs beneath old scars while several shallow cuts crossed his shoulders and chest, but your attention fixed immediately on the wing.
Several thin tears split through the membrane near the base.
Not severe, but still painful.
“Oh, Azriel.”
His eyes lifted toward you immediately at the softness in your voice.
“It looks worse than it is.”
“That sentence should honestly be banned from your vocabulary.”
A faint twitch touched the corner of his mouth before vanishing again.
You stepped closer carrying the bowl of warm water carefully between your hands before crouching beside the wing.
“Let me see.”
“You don’t have to do this,” Azriel murmured quietly.
Your eyes lifted to his through the mirror above the basin. “I know.”
For one suspended moment neither of you looked away.
Then you forced yourself to focus back on the injury.
Most of the blood had dried by now, dark against the membrane, though the torn areas still looked raw enough to make something unpleasant twist inside you.
Azriel remained completely silent while you inspected the damage, though you were deeply aware of the weight of his gaze lingering on you.
After nearly a minute, he said quietly, “You should see the other male.”
The laugh escaped you before you could stop it, and something in Azriel’s expression softened immediately in response. A small smile tugged briefly at the corner of his mouth, tired but real enough that your breath caught slightly all over again.
“I bet he looks worse,” you said.
Azriel’s quiet hum vibrated low in his chest while his gaze lingered on you for half a heartbeat too long before finally drifting away.
You dipped the cloth into warm water before carefully pressing it against the wing.
The second your fingers brushed the membrane, Azriel went unnaturally still beneath your hands.
Your brows pinched immediately.
“Did that hurt?”
“No.”
The answer came far too quickly.
Suspicion flickered through you, but you focused on the wing instead, carefully cleaning blood from the dark membrane while candlelight flickered gold against it.
Then you noticed his hand.
Azriel’s knuckles had gone nearly white around the edge of the tub, the muscles in his forearm tightening visibly beneath scarred skin before a sharp breath slipped through his nose.
Your hands stilled instantly.
“Okay,” you murmured carefully, “that definitely hurt.”
“It didn’t.”
The answer came a little too fast.
You glanced up at him just in time to catch the tightness lingering in his jaw before he turned his attention firmly toward the opposite wall.
“You sound deeply offended by the experience,” you observed.
Another controlled breath slipped through his nose, though this time the edge of the tub creaked faintly beneath his grip.
You softened your touch instinctively anyway while cleaning another thin line of blood lower along the wing.
Azriel’s fingers tightened harder around the edge of the tub.
Your attention lifted slowly toward him.
“…Azriel.”
“Mhm.”
“You look deeply distressed right now.”
“I’m injured.”
“That is clearly not the problem.”
Something dangerously close to a groan almost escaped him then before he swallowed it back down behind another measured breath.
Azriel closed his eyes briefly before muttering a quiet, strained, “Fuck.”
Your brows lifted immediately.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“That definitely sounded like something.”
“It’s fine.”
“You keep saying that while looking like you’re trying to survive an interrogation.”
Azriel tipped his head back slowly against the wall behind him and exhaled through his nose, long and controlled like he was counting through something silently inside his own head.
Then your fingers drifted slightly lower near the base of the wing.
Azriel’s entire body locked.
The rough sound that escaped him this time was unmistakably not pain, low enough that heat rushed instantly into your face while his grip tightened hard around the edge of the tub beneath your hands.
Your mouth fell open slightly.
Azriel closed his eyes harder. “For fuck’s sake.”
“Azriel.”
“Don’t.”
Your eyes narrowed slightly as you stared up at him. “You are reacting very strangely to this.”
“I’m aware.”
Another careful breath slipped through his nose.
Your gaze drifted slowly back toward the wing before lifting toward him again.
“That definitely did something.”
“It’s a wing.”
“Yes,” you replied slowly, still staring openly at him now, “but I don’t think wings are supposed to do that.”
Azriel groaned softly beneath his breath.
The sound sent unexpected warmth rushing instantly into your face.
You could only stare at him in fascinated disbelief while he sat there visibly fighting for every scrap of composure he still had left.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
Carefully now, curiosity overriding common sense entirely, you brushed your fingertips lightly across the base of the wing again.
Azriel’s wing jerked violently.
His grip tightened hard enough around the edge of the tub that the wood groaned beneath his hands while another rough sound escaped him, lower this time, nearly swallowed back immediately afterward.
Your eyes widened slowly.
“Oh my gods.”
Azriel tipped his head back briefly before dragging another careful breath through his nose. “You are enjoying this far too much.”
“I have absolutely no idea what’s happening.”
“That makes one of us.”
The answer came rough enough that heat rose instantly into your face.
You bit the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from laughing, but the moment your gaze lifted toward him again, the sound died somewhere in your throat.
Azriel was already looking at you.
Really looking at you now, with all the careful restraint stripped painfully thin around the edges.
Your breath caught slightly.
Then the bathroom door opened.
Cassian walked in halfway through saying, “Rhys wants to know if you’re done brooding in—”
Then he stopped.
His gaze moved slowly across the room, taking in Azriel sitting rigidly on the edge of the bathtub, the white-knuckled grip he still had on the edge of it, the wing stretched carefully across your lap, and finally your hand resting far too close to the base of the membrane.
Silence settled heavily through the bathroom.
Cassian’s expression did not change immediately.
First came confusion.
Then suspicion.
Then horrifying, dawning understanding.
His eyes snapped back toward Azriel, whose expression now carried the exhausted resignation of a male who already knew exactly what was coming next.
“…Why the fuck,” Cassian asked carefully, “is she cleaning your wing like that?”
“Cassian,” Azriel said immediately, still without opening his eyes, “leave.”
That only made Cassian more suspicious.
Then the wing beneath your fingers twitched again.
Cassian froze.
The corner of Cassian’s mouth twitched.
Then twitched again.
“Oh,” he whispered.
Azriel groaned softly beneath his breath. “Don’t.”
Cassian lasted exactly one more heartbeat before doubling over laughing.
“Oh, no.”
You looked between them in confusion. “What?”
Cassian caught himself against the doorway as another wave of laughter nearly folded him in half.
“Brother,” he choked out, “you are fighting for your fucking life right now.”
“Shut up, Cassian.”
“No, I need confirmation,” Cassian said immediately, pointing toward the wing with horrifying seriousness despite the grin still breaking across his face. “Has she been touching the base of it this entire time?”
Azriel said absolutely nothing.
Which answered the question perfectly.
Cassian made a strangled noise before dragging a hand slowly down his face.
“Oh, you poor fucking bastard.”
Your brows pinched harder. “Will someone explain what’s happening?”
Cassian pointed toward Azriel with the dramatic horror of a male witnessing divine punishment firsthand. “You’ve been stroking the base of his wing for the last twenty minutes while he sits there trying not to completely lose his damn mind.”
Your jaw dropped open.
Heat flooded your face so fast it almost hurt.
Slowly, carefully, you turned back toward Azriel.
He looked like he wanted the floor to open beneath him.
“What?”
“The base of the wing?” Cassian repeated incredulously, another disbelieving laugh escaping him. “You might as well have climbed directly into his lap.”
“I was helping!”
“I know,” Cassian managed, visibly struggling to breathe normally again. “That’s what makes it so funny.”
Heat still burning across your face, you turned immediately toward Azriel. “You let me keep doing it.”
Azriel’s hazel eyes finally shifted toward yours, dark with humiliation and restraint stretched painfully thin around the edges.
“You seemed determined to continue,” he muttered.
Cassian folded against the doorway again with a strangled noise somewhere between laughter and actual pain. “She’s been innocently torturing you for twenty minutes and you just sat here suffering in silence?”
Azriel’s glare could have killed lesser males.
“Get out.”
“I knew I heard the growl of a male dying downstairs.”
Your eyes widened immediately as your gaze snapped back toward Azriel. “I thought I was hurting you.”
Azriel said nothing.
Which, honestly, felt like confirmation all on its own.
He only tipped his head back toward the ceiling again with the exhausted resignation of a male actively reconsidering every life choice that had led him here.
Cassian looked delighted.
“You really sounded feral, brother.”
You covered your burning face with both hands. “Oh my gods.”
“To be fair,” Cassian continued, still entirely too pleased with himself, “you were touching the worst possible place.”
“Cassian,” Azriel said darkly.
“What?” Cassian asked with exaggerated innocence. “I’m trying to educate her since you clearly weren’t going to.”
“You are absolutely not helping,” you muttered behind your hands.
Azriel shifted slightly like he meant to stand, but the moment the wing moved beneath your fingertips, another helpless groan escaped him before he could swallow it back down.
Silence crashed through the room.
Cassian made a strangled noise.
“Oh, Cauldron,” he whispered, staring openly at his brother now. “I cannot believe this.”
You jerked your hand back instantly. “Sorry.”
Azriel tipped his head back with the exhausted expression of a male rapidly losing the will to live.
“Please,” he muttered, dragging one hand slowly down his face. “Please stop talking.”
Cassian, unfortunately, looked physically incapable of stopping.
“You are so done,” he managed between uneven breaths, pointing toward Azriel while another wave of laughter nearly folded him in half again. “Completely done for.”
Azriel finally got to his feet with what remained of his dignity intact, though his shadows now lashed violently through the steam-filled room like they were debating whether murder was a reasonable solution.
You stepped back quickly, mortification still burning across your face. “I really didn’t know.”
Azriel paused.
Then his gaze lifted toward yours.
And just like that, some of the embarrassment softened around the edges, giving way to something quieter beneath all the restraint he had been clinging to with both hands since the moment you touched his wing.
“I know,” he said softly.
The words settled warm somewhere beneath your ribs before either of you could say anything else.
Then Cassian ruined it.
“Oh, no, don’t start looking at her like that now. I’m already traumatized enough.”
Azriel shut his eyes immediately.
You made a horrified sound.
Cassian leaned harder against the doorway, looking genuinely delighted with himself now. “This is the best night of my life.”
Azriel looked at him with lethal calm.
“Run.”
Cassian’s grin widened instantly.
Then he ran.
Silence settled through the steam-filled room almost immediately afterward.
You were still staring at the doorway in horror when Azriel exhaled slowly through his nose behind you.
“He’s never letting this go,” you muttered.
“No,” Azriel said quietly.
When you finally looked back at him, his gaze was already on you.
Not embarrassed anymore.
Just soft.
Warm enough that your chest tightened painfully beneath it.
Then his shadows curled slowly toward your wrists again, gentle this time, and Azriel glanced once toward the wing still stretched between you before dragging a tired hand down his face.
“I would appreciate,” he said carefully, “if we never spoke about this again.”
The laugh escaped you before you could stop it.
Azriel’s mouth twitched slightly in response.
And somehow, impossibly, that felt far more dangerous than the growling had.
---
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The same male I thought avoided me like I was a sickness. The same male I thought barely tolerated my presence in the Townhouse. The same male who I thought only came for me because the bond forced him to.
He had watched me. Protected me. Memorised the small details of my life like they mattered.
It was overwhelming. Dizzying. Terrifying.
And the worst part was, I didn't know what to do with that information. I didn't know how to feel. I didn't know how to respond. I didn't know how to be someone worth that kind of love.
So I said nothing.
After I didn't respond to his confession, he left my room quietly, like he didn't want to pressure me. Like he was giving me space to breathe.
I spent the rest of the day in bed staring at the ceiling, Nova curled against my side, my mind replaying every word he had said over and over again until I felt like I might lose my mind.
Then Feyre sent word. Dinner. At the River House. With everyone.
I stared at the note for a long time.
I didn't want to go. I didn't want the looks, the pity, the careful voices, the hovering. I didn't want them watching me like I might break at any second. I didn't want to sit at that table and pretend everything was normal when nothing felt normal anymore.
I wanted to go back to sleep and stay asleep.
But I knew Feyre. And Nesta. And Elain.
If I didn't go, they would come to me. And somehow that felt worse.
So I got dressed slowly, wincing as fabric brushed against bandages and bruises. I chose a simple black dress, loose enough not to press too hard against the worst of the injuries.
White bandages still showed at my wrists and collarbone, stark against the dark fabric, but I didn't bother trying to hide them.
Let them look. Let them see what happened.
When I stepped into the sitting room, Azriel was already there, waiting to winnow us. He looked up when I entered, his hazel eyes scanning me quickly like he was checking for new injuries, new pain, new signs that I wasn't okay.
He didn't comment on the dress. Or the bandages. Or the fact that I hadn't spoken to him since his confession.
He just nodded once. "Ready?" he asked quietly.
I nodded back.
Just as I him, Nova darted past me and practically threw herself at my legs, meowing loudly.
"No, Nova," I murmured, trying to gently push her back inside. "You can't come."
Nova just stared up at me, green eyes wide and stubborn, and meowed again like she was arguing with me.
I glanced at him and he gave a small shrug like it was obvious.
So I bent down and scooped Nova into my arms. She immediately started purring loudly like she had won some grand battle.
Azriel stepped closer then, a hand lightly brushing my arm as he winnowed us away.
The River House appeared around us in a blur of darkness and wind, and the moment we stepped into the foyer, Feyre was there.
She crossed the room quickly and wrapped her arms around me before I could even say hello. Nova meowed loudly between us, squished between our bodies.
"I was so worried," Feyre whispered, holding me tightly.
I stiffened slightly in her arms. "You were?" I asked before I could stop myself.
She pulled back, frowning slightly. "Of course I was."
Nesta stepped forward next and pulled me into a quick, tight hug. "You scared everyone," she said quietly.
Elain hugged me last, lingering longer than the others, her arms gentle around me like I might break. When she pulled back, her eyes were already glassy with unshed tears.
She led me to a chair beside her at the table.
Dinner started fine. A little awkward. A little quiet. A little too careful.
Everyone kept glancing at me like they were waiting for me to shatter. Cassian tried to tell a story about training, Rhys made some comment about Velaris, Feyre asked Elain about her garden, and I sat there pushing food around my plate while Nova curled in my lap.
It almost felt normal. Almost.
Then Nesta spoke, and it wasn't what she said so much as how normal she sounded when she said it.
"So you brought the cat?" she asked, nodding toward Nova curled in my lap like this was any other dinner, any other night.
"Nova," I replied automatically, running my fingers along her back. "Her name is Nova. And yes... she's a little attached."
Nesta gave a small huff of amusement and Cassian chuckled under his breath. Across the table, Elain smiled softly like the whole thing was harmless, like this was just light conversation.
"Attached?" Elain said gently. "She's just a pet."
It was such a small comment. So small. So normal.
But something about the way she said it—light, dismissive, like Nova didn't matter, like none of this mattered made something inside my chest twist sharply.
I stared down at Nova for a moment, at the way she was curled into me like I was her entire world, like she had followed me into darkness and back without hesitation, like she had been the only one waiting for me every single day in that empty Townhouse.
And before I could stop myself, before I could swallow the words down like I usually did, I spoke.
"At least she fucking cares."
The words fell into the room like glass shattering.
Silence followed immediately. Heavy, stunned silence. I looked up slowly and every single person at the table was staring at me.
Nesta's expression hardened first. "Don't yell at Elain," she said sharply. "You know she's more sensitive."
Something hot and ugly flared in my chest.
"Oh my gods," I said, letting out a short, disbelieving laugh as I dropped my fork onto the plate with a sharp clatter. "You and Elain weren't the only ones who went into that forsaken Cauldron, you know."
"That's not what this is about," Nesta snapped immediately.
"No, Nesta," I said, shaking my head, my voice rising despite myself. "It never is about me, is it? It never has been."
"That's not fair," Feyre said quietly.
"No?" I looked around the table at all of them. "Since we were children, Nesta, you were cruel and mean and I just... I took it. I always took it because that was easier than fighting with you."
Nesta's eyes flashed. "You're not seriously bringing up our childhood right now."
"I'm bringing up my entire life right now," I shot back. "Because I am so tired of pretending none of it mattered."
"Stop yelling," Elain said softly, shrinking slightly in her chair.
I turned toward her, anger spilling over now, years of it, not just tonight.
"You always do that," I said. "You just sit there and act sweet and quiet and innocent and never pick a side unless it benefits you."
Elain looked like I had slapped her. "That's not fair."
"Nothing about this is fair," I said, my voice shaking now but I couldn't stop. "None of this has ever been fair."
"Can everybody please just eat dinner?" Feyre said, her voice tight, like she was trying to hold the entire room together by herself.
I pushed my chair back suddenly and stood up, the legs scraping loudly against the floor.
"No," I said. "We can't just eat dinner. I can't sit here and pretend everything is fine when I was kidnapped and tortured because of you."
Silence fell over the table like a physical thing.
Feyre went pale. "What?"
"Because of you and your mate," I said, my voice shaking now but I couldn't stop. "They wanted revenge on Rhysand, so they took me. Not you. Not Nesta. Not Elain. Me. Because I was the easiest one to take."
"That's not your fault," Feyre said immediately.
"Isn't it?" I laughed bitterly. "I was taken because I'm the extra sister. The unimportant one. The one no one watches as closely. The one no one would notice was gone right away."
"That's not true," Cassian said.
"Isn't it?" I snapped, looking around the table. "How long did it take before you all realised I was gone? How long before someone noticed I wasn't at the Townhouse?"
No one answered. That hurt more than if they had yelled back.
"You all have titles," I continued, breathing hard now. "High Lady. Valkyrie. Seer. Lady Death. Cursebreaker. And I am what? Nothing. I went into the Cauldron too. I lost my human life too. I have nightmares too. But no one ever asks me if I'm okay."
Tears were running down my face now but I didn't stop.
"I was hanging from chains in a dark room for days and I kept thinking, they're not coming," I said, my voice breaking. "They're not coming because I don't matter enough for anyone to come."
"That's not true," Feyre whispered, tears in her own eyes now.
"Then why does it always feel like it is?" I asked quietly.
No one had an answer.
I looked around the table at all of them, my sisters, their mates, this family that I was somehow part of but never quite felt like I belonged to.
"I was forgotten long before I was kidnapped," I said softly.
Then I turned and walked out of the room before anyone could stop me.
Nova jumped down from the chair and ran after me immediately, her small paws tapping quickly against the floor as she followed me out of the River House and into the night.
Azriel's POV -
Dinner had taken a turn for the worst.
That was an understatement. It had detonated, years of silence and hurt and misunderstandings exploding in the middle of the dining room, and I had watched the entire thing unfold knowing there was nothing I could do to stop it.
I heard the front door slam shut behind her, the sound echoing through the house.
The room went completely silent after that, everyone staring at the empty doorway she had just disappeared through.
It was Rhys who moved first, straightening slightly, already opening his mouth, probably to say something diplomatic, something High Lord-like, something about giving her space or how they should handle this carefully.
I looked at him. Really looked at him. Whatever he saw on my face made him stop immediately.
"I am speaking to you as your brother right now," I said quietly, but there was nothing soft in my voice. "Do not even think about saying anything. Not tonight."
Rhys held my stare for a long moment, then slowly closed his mouth. He understood. This wasn't a High Lord situation. This wasn't a court problem.
This was mine.
And then I turned and walked out of the River House after her.
There was no way I was letting her walk home alone tonight. Not after everything she had just said. Not after the way her hands had been shaking. Not after the look on her face when she said she had been forgotten.
I found her halfway across the bridge leading out of the district, walking quickly, arms wrapped around herself, Nova trotting close behind her like a small black shadow.
I didn't call out to her. I didn't want to startle her. I just followed at a distance, silent, my shadows keeping me hidden in the dim light.
She knew I was there.
I could tell by the way her shoulders tensed slightly, by the way she slowed just a fraction like she was listening for footsteps behind her.
Eventually, she stopped walking.
She didn't turn around right away. She just stood there in the middle of the quiet street, Nova sitting beside her feet, looking back and forth between us like she knew this was important.
Finally, she turned. "I know you're there," she said quietly.
I stepped out of the shadows then, letting her see me fully.
For a moment, we just looked at each other in the soft glow of the streetlights. Her eyes were still a little red from crying, her posture tired, like the argument had drained the last of her strength.
"I wasn't going to let you walk home alone," I said.
"I figured," she replied softly.
Silence fell between us again, but it wasn't as heavy as before. Just quiet. Just tired. She looked down at the ground for a moment, then back up at me.
"I don't know how to be someone's first choice," she said suddenly.
The words were so quiet I almost didn't hear them.
I didn't answer right away. I just walked closer to her, slowly, like approaching a frightened animal that might run if I moved too fast.
When I was close enough, I held out my hand toward her, palm up, giving her the choice.
She looked at my hand for a long moment. Then, slowly, she placed her hand in mine.
Her fingers were cold. I closed my hand gently around hers, careful of the bandages around her wrist, and I felt something in my chest settle slightly at the contact.
"You don't have to know how," I said quietly. "You just have to let someone choose you."
She looked up at me then, her eyes searching my face like she was trying to find a lie there.
"I have always chosen you," I continued softly. "Even when you didn't know it. Even when I stayed away. Even when I thought you deserved better than me. It has always been you."
Her grip on my hand tightened slightly.
After a moment, I reached carefully for the bond between us, that invisible thread that had nearly driven me insane when she was gone.
I tugged on it very gently, just a small pull, more curiosity than anything.
She gasped slightly and took a small step forward without meaning to, her body responding before her mind did.
I caught her immediately with my other hand on her arm to steady her.
Her eyes widened slightly. "You did that."
I nodded once. "I can feel you through it. I would never use it to control you. But... I can feel if you're hurt. If you're scared."
She was quiet for a moment, then she did something I didn't expect.
She reached for the bond too.
I felt it immediately, a small, hesitant tug from her side, like she was testing it, like she was making sure it was real. The pull landed somewhere deep in my chest, warm and strange and overwhelming all at once.
I took an involuntary step closer to her this time. She looked up at me, surprised.
We both went very still for a moment.
Then, slowly, she smiled. It was small. Tired. A little sad. But it was real.
And I realised in that moment I would spend the rest of my life trying to be worthy of that smile.
A/N - Dinner did not go according to plan. It was a long-overdue explosion of feelings, and honestly? It needed to happen. Even if it hurt :(
On the brighter side, Azriel actually goes after her this time (growth) and we finally get a glimpse of her opening up about her fears instead of just burying them. Progress!!
And that ending... a tiny bit of hope, just a little but we'll take it x
Thank you so much for reading <33
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There was too much time to think when you were left alone in the dark.
Every time the door to the cold, stone room shut and the lock clicked into place, silence filled the space like something alive. Heavy. Suffocating. Endless. There were no windows, no sense of time, no way to know if it was day or night. Only darkness, stone, chains, and pain.
Dante and his "brothers," as he called them, had not lied about being my worst nightmares.
They were cruel in ways that felt practised. Comfortable. Like they had done this many times before and knew exactly how far to push before someone broke.
They liked the water the most.
Buckets of freezing water dumped over my head again and again until I was gasping and shaking and reliving the Cauldron every single time. Cold water filling my lungs, hands dragging me under, the feeling of falling into darkness and never reaching the bottom.
And they always followed the water with something worse.
The whip. The knife. The slow, deliberate cuts that burned twice as badly when my skin was already frozen and soaked.
I had stopped screaming a long time ago. Now the tears just fell silently, slipping down my face without me even noticing anymore. Crying had become as natural as breathing.
I didn't know how many days I had been there. I didn't know if anyone was looking for me. I didn't know if anyone cared.
I hung from the chains again, my wrists raw and burning, my feet barely touching the ground, my thin white shift torn and stained and clinging to my skin.
Every part of my body hurt. Even breathing hurt.
The door opened again. I didn't even lift my head at first.
"Still alive?" Dante's voice echoed through the room, amused and cruel.
I closed my eyes. "Barely," I whispered.
He laughed at that, the sound echoing off the stone walls. Boots approached slowly until he stood in front of me. I forced myself to look up at him, even though my vision blurred slightly.
"You know," he said casually, spinning a knife between his fingers, "your mate is taking a very long time to find you."
I didn't answer.
He grabbed my chin suddenly, forcing my head up. "I expected more from him. I thought he'd tear the world apart by now."
"It's true," I whispered. "He never wanted me. He avoided me before you even took me."
Dante tilted his head slightly, studying my face like I was something interesting. "You really believe that, don't you?"
I didn't answer because if I spoke, I might cry again. And I was so tired of crying.
Dante stepped back slightly and nodded to one of the others. A moment later, cold water hit me again, stealing the air from my lungs as I gasped and shook violently.
The Cauldron. Cold. Dark. Falling. Hands dragging me under.
I squeezed my eyes shut, breathing hard, trying to remind myself I was not in the Cauldron, I was not drowning, I was not—
Pain exploded across my back as the whip struck.
I cried out despite myself, my body jerking against the chains.
"Maybe this will make him come faster," Dante said casually.
Another strike. And another. And another.
My vision blurred completely now, tears mixing with water and blood and I could barely see anything in front of me.
Then, suddenly something pulled in my chest. Not pain. Not exactly.
A tug. A sharp, sudden pull deep inside my chest, like a thread had just been yanked tight. I gasped slightly, my head lifting a little.
Dante noticed immediately. "What was that?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
I didn't know.
But the bond—I didn't have a word for it before, but now I knew suddenly felt alive. Awake. Close. Very close.
And then the door exploded inward. Not opened. Not kicked. Exploded.
Wood shattered across the floor, the entire door ripped off its hinges and slammed into the wall so hard the stone cracked.
Everyone in the room turned at once.
Azriel stood in the doorway. I had never seen him look like that before.
His wings were spread wide, his shadows swirling around him like living darkness, his hazel eyes cold and empty and furious in a way that made the entire room feel smaller.
He looked like death. No—worse than death.
He didn't say a word. He just moved.
The first male barely had time to draw his weapon before Azriel was in front of him. Truth-Teller flashed once and the male dropped before he even hit the ground.
Azriel didn't pause, didn't breathe, didn't hesitate. He moved to the next one immediately, shadows pinning the male to the wall before the blade slid across his throat.
Everything happened so fast I could barely follow it.
Screaming. Steel. Shadows. Blood hitting stone.
Dante tried to run. He made it three steps before Azriel caught him, slamming him into the wall so hard the stone cracked again.
"You took what is mine," Azriel said quietly.
I had never heard his voice sound like that before. It was calm. Cold. Empty.
Terrifying.
Dante tried to say something, beg maybe but Azriel didn't let him finish. Truth-Teller slid into his chest slowly, deliberately, and Azriel leaned in slightly.
"You should have killed me instead," he said softly.
Then he pulled the blade out and Dante collapsed to the floor.
The room went silent except for my uneven breathing and the sound of water dripping onto stone.
Azriel stood there for a moment, looking around at the bodies, making sure they were all dead.
Then he turned to me. And the moment he looked at me, his entire expression changed.
The rage was still there, but now there was something else too, horror, guilt, fear, and something that looked a lot like pain.
He crossed the room in three quick steps and reached up immediately, breaking the chains at my wrists like they were nothing. I collapsed forward but he caught me before I could fall, his arms wrapping around me carefully, like I might break if he held me too tightly.
"I've got you," he whispered, his voice completely different now. Softer. Shaking slightly. "I've got you. You're safe."
Safe. The word felt strange.
I rested weakly against his chest, too tired to hold myself up anymore, too tired to think, too tired to do anything but breathe.
"You came," I whispered.
"Of course I came," he said immediately, holding me tighter.
I shook my head weakly. "You came because you had to," I murmured.
He went completely still. I didn't look at his face. I didn't want to see pity there. I didn't want to see obligation. I just felt so tired.
"So you don't have to feel guilty anymore," I whispered softly.
And then everything went dark.
Azriel's POV -
It felt like I could breathe again for the first time in over a week as I watched her sleep.
The room was quiet, lit only by soft evening light filtering through the curtains, and she lay in the large bed looking smaller than I had ever seen her.
Bandages wrapped around her wrists, her shoulders, her ribs. Faint bruising still shadowed her face and collarbone, and every time I looked at those marks something dark and violent stirred in my chest again.
My mate.
The word still felt unreal, even though I had known the truth since the moment she stepped out of the Cauldron.
Even though the bond had been a living thing in my chest ever since. Even though the last week without her had nearly driven me insane.
Madja had tended to her injuries and eventually forced me out of the room so she could work.
Feyre had cried. Nesta had been silent in that terrifying way she had when she was furious. Elain had simply held her hand and whispered to her even while she was unconscious.
They had all hovered like ghosts, like guilty ghosts.
Then, eventually, Rhys had ushered them all out and told me to stay.
So now it was just me and her.
I sat in the chair beside the bed, elbows on my knees, hands clasped loosely, watching the slow rise and fall of her chest like it was the only thing keeping the world in motion.
"I'm sorry," I whispered quietly, even though she was asleep. "I should have told you. I should have protected you better. I should have followed you that day."
The bond in my chest was quiet now. Not gone, not empty just quiet. Like she was resting and the bond was resting with her.
After a long while, she stirred slightly.
Her breathing changed first, then her fingers moved slightly against the blanket. Slowly, her eyes opened, unfocused at first as she stared up at the ceiling like she didn't remember where she was.
Then her eyes shifted. They landed on me.
For a moment, we just looked at each other. Then she looked away. That hurt more than I expected it to.
I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but a small black blur launched onto the bed before I could speak.
Nova.
The cat meowed loudly, almost angrily, as she climbed onto her chest and started pawing at her carefully like she was scolding her for disappearing.
She looked down at Nova and for the first time since she woke, she smiled, small and tired and sad, but real.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice hoarse as she carefully lifted a hand to pet the cat. "I'm so sorry."
Nova meowed again and curled up against her immediately like she was making sure she wouldn't disappear again.
I stayed quiet, letting her have that moment. Letting Nova curl against her. Letting her stroke the black fur slowly like it grounded her back in the world.
My shadows moved slowly around me, calmer than they had been in days.
Finally, after what felt like forever, I spoke. "I came because it was you," I said quietly.
The words had been sitting in my chest since the moment I carried her out of that room.
Her hand stopped moving on Nova's fur. She looked up at me slowly.
"I know it was because of the bond," she said softly. "I may be new to all of this, but I know enough to know mating bonds make Fae males... intense. Protective. A little crazy."
"That's not why," I said immediately.
"Azriel," she said gently, like she was trying to make this easier for me, "it's okay. You don't have to pretend. We can figure it out. Maybe there's a way to—"
"No," I said, cutting her off more sharply than I intended. "You don't understand."
She went quiet then, watching me carefully. My heart was pounding now, harder than it had in any battle.
"I am in love with you," I said.
The words fell into the room and seemed to stay there, hanging between us.
Her eyes widened slightly but she didn't speak.
"I have been in love with you for a long time," I continued, my voice quieter now. "Long before you knew about the bond. Long before I told anyone. Long before I even admitted it to myself."
She was staring at me now like she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing.
"I know everything about you," I continued slowly. "I know you prefer coffee to tea, but only if there's too much milk in it. I know you like sweet things more than savory but you always pretend you don't so Nesta won't tease you. I know you love puzzles and reading and sitting in the window when it rains. I know you hum when you cook even though you don't realise you're doing it."
She didn't move. Didn't speak. She just listened.
"I know you always feed Nova before you feed yourself. I know you leave the lights on in the hallway at night because you don't like the house being completely dark. I know you reread your favourite books over and over again. I know you bite the inside of your cheek when you're nervous. I know you think no one notices when you leave a room because you think no one would miss you anyway."
Her eyes filled with tears but she still didn't interrupt me.
"I stayed away from you because I thought you deserved better," I said quietly. "Someone kind and warm and whole. Not... me."
I looked down at my scarred hands resting together between my knees.
"I am not a good male," I continued. "I was raised in darkness. I was trained to hurt people. I have done things you will never know about and I will never tell you about. I am not gentle. I am not soft. I am not the kind of male you deserved to be trapped with for eternity because of a bond you didn't choose."
I looked back up at her then.
"I didn't want you to feel like you had to love me," I said. "I didn't want you to feel trapped. So I stayed away. I kept my distance. I tried to let you have a life that didn't revolve around me and my darkness."
My throat felt tight now.
"But I have always watched over you," I admitted quietly. "Always. Since the day we met. Since the day you were turned. I made sure you were safe. I made sure you were never alone when you went into the city. I made sure someone always knew where you were. I listened when you talked even when you thought no one was paying attention."
She was crying now, silent tears sliding down her temples into her hair.
"I didn't come for you because of the bond," I said softly. "I came for you because it was you. And I would have burned this entire world down to find you."
The room went completely silent after that.
She didn't speak. She didn't move. She just looked at me, her expression unreadable, her eyes full of something I couldn't understand.
The silence stretched.
I reached carefully for the bond then, just slightly, just enough to feel her through it. I expected fear. Confusion. Anger. Something.
But when I touched the bond, all I felt from her side was—hollow. Not empty. Not gone.
Just... hollow.
A/N - The rescue!! She really said "he only came because he had to" and then immediately passed out before letting him defend himself... to be fair, she's been THROUGH it, we'll allow it!!
Meanwhile Azriel is like "actually I've been in love with you for ages" and proceeds to emotionally unload EVERYTHING—fears, feelings, all of it, no holding back x
And she hears him. It's clicking. It's landing. But when he reaches through the bond... nothing clear comes back. Just that hollow, unreadable feeling. Make of that what you will... ;)
Thank you so much for reading <33
Invisible tag list - @sophieliz @azrielblue @whump-loverz @galacticoceans @lilah-asteria @niiickelodeon @justtryingtosurvive02 @rosie-posie08 @mis-lil-red @dnfhascorruptedme @justreadingfanficseveryday @spookypersondinosaur @jugodeshadowsinger @nyxmoretti @karolamurdock @do-nut25 @90s-belladonna @river-of-woe @prettylittlewrites @blueeclipsepaperstudent @chxosangxl @maddybrooke @napzalot @jada-lockwood @acourtofbatboydreams @pinksnowtiger @awkardnerd @throneofem @starinisstuff @alienmotel @chicken-fifi @itsraininghyunebuckets @dreaming-starlet @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @beloveddiary2 @pieceofmyritualexe @livvyluv44 @napzalot @themoonlitquill @pricklepearbloom @kittykaylat1987 @insomniac-astronomer @sinfully-yoursss @immortaliaslane @saamanthaag3 @tanyaherondale @psychiatry-and-poetry @moonlovefairy - tag list continued in comments
Summary: It would only ever be you, no matter how much time had passed.
Warnings: fluff, angst, reader described to have the same eyes as Rhys.
A C O T A R M A S T E R L I S T
There had been many times over the course of being chained within the depths of this cave in which you had thought yourself to have officially gone insane but the moment you felt as though the shadows in the corners of this prison began moving was when you had accepted that insanity had taken over you but the moment you began hearing them whispering to you was truly the loss of all hope.
You had long since lost count of time, with nothing but darkness surrounding you and no hope for any light to work its way into this godforsaken pit, days were passing by without your knowledge. It had been years at this point, how many, you didn’t know but long enough for the world outside to be a distant echo and for your presence to have faded into a pitiful whisper.
Years passed by with only the reminders of your old life to keep you company; you often dreamed of those times your brother carved out time in his day to braid your hair or when you would both jump out of the windows late at night to fly over Velaris together. You’d dream of your mother, how she’d let you sit and ‘help’ her make dresses or that time you were so outraged when you were learning how to fly and she pushed you straight from the balcony of the House of Wind so that you had no choice but to fly.
Your days were filled with flashes of them all; your mother, Rhysand, Mor and Cassian.
You wondered how much of life had moved on without you.
Was Rhysand High Lord yet?
If he was, how had your father died?
Had Rhysand found his mate?
Had he made her High Lady like you both always spoke about?
In those extra difficult times that your control slipped even further, those memories of the Shadowsinger would linger the harshest.
You did not like thinking of how much his life had moved on without you.
Rhysand and Feyre stood together in the kitchen of the townhouse, looking through the window into the garden where Elain was tending to the flower garden and Azriel was sprawled out nearby, sunning his wings.
“Do you think the Cauldron can make mistakes with mates?” Feyre asked him, a look of confused anguish on her face.
Rhysand looked towards his mate, surprise dancing in his eyes at her question. “Nobody truly knows what makes the cauldron put two people together. They’re not always perfectly compatible, my own parents were examples of that, they never truly loved each other. Others, like us, are lucky to find love with their mate.”
Feyre continued looking out into the garden. “Why couldn’t the cauldron have made Azriel, Elain’s mate, instead of Lucien. Lucien is good but they look good together,” Feyre pointed out to where the Shadowsinger was still sprawled on the grass.
A pulse of pain pulled through their bond causing Feyre to snap her eyes back to Rhys. She was surprised to see the pain in his eyes, it wasn’t just any pain. It was the sort of pain that lingered and dwelled, a grief that would forever remain no matter how much time passed but there was also a subtle protectiveness in his eyes that could almost be missed.
Feyre was confused.
Rhysand swallowed a lump in his throat before speaking. “Do not mistake Azriel’s kindness towards your sister as affection. He is spending time with her because I ordered him too, to try and understand her powers. You’re reading into something that isn’t there.” His voice was stern but not unkind.
Feyre’s brows furrowed at his words. “It would be an honour for Azriel to find his mate, with anyone.”
“Azriel does not want a mate, Feyre.” The sheer confidence in Rhysand’s words only confused her even more.
“But why would he not want a mate? I thought everyone dreams of having one.” She questioned, looking out at Azriel’s figure in the garden.
She thought Azriel of all people would want a mate.
“Azriel has already had his great love,” Rhysand said. “No mating bond could ever live up to that for him. There are loves that even the cauldron cannot compete with.”
“What?” Feyre asked, shock taking over her face. “Who?”
That pain appeared in Rhys’ eyes again, a quick flash but it was there. “I meant it when I said I have no secrets to keep from you but not all stories are solely mine to tell. I am not going to tell you Azriel’s secrets.”
Feyre nodded silently. She understood, it didn’t diminish her curiosity but she would not pry for answers that weren’t hers to have.
Azriel’s footsteps were silent as always, shadows licking at his heals and fingertips as he walked towards Rhys’ office.
Not bothering to knock, his gloved hand unlatched the handle as he stepped inside. “You called, brother?”
Rhys was sat back in his chair, unsurprisingly dressed in his formals but the conflicted look on his face ruffled his demeanour. “I’d like to preface by saying you haven’t done anything wrong, my mate simply is too nosey for her own good and sees things she hopes are there rather than reality at times.”
Azriel’s face remained at an impasse other than the slight narrowing of his golden, hazel eyes.
Rhysand sighed. “Feyre is under the impression that you and Elain may make for a better match than her and Lucien.”
The control Azriel had on himself immediately slipped as he stepped back, eyes widening in shock, fists clenching by his sides as his shadows fluttered around him. “No. Rhys, I would never-”
“I know” Rhys interrupted. “I am not accusing you of doing anything, Az. I just thought it best to let you know.”
Azriel shifted uncomfortably at his words. “You know there is no one else, there never has been and there will never be anyone else.” He insisted, wanting his brother to believe him.
Rhysand’s gaze softened. “I know. I have never doubted that even though it would be okay if eventually-”
“No!” Azriel’s cut him off, “There will never be another.”
“Okay,” Rhys conceded. “I just wanted to let you know, Azriel.”
Azriel nodded his head, not hesitating in taking his exit, leaving Rhys there in a suffocating silence of loss.
“You’re distracted,” Cassian dropped his stance, looking towards Feyre intently.
His High Lady sighed in frustration, leaning back against the ropes of the sparring ring.
“What’s on your mind?” He asked.
Feyre pursed her lips in contemplation before relenting. “Did you three actually used do things in the same room as each other?”
Cassian barked out a deep laugh at her question. “That’s what’s on your mind?”
Feyre shrugged sheepishly.
Cassian shook his head, a large smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, Rhys and I did. It would be a bit weird and incredibly uncomfortable for us all if Azriel did.”
Feyre tilted her head curiously, “Why?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be very nice for Rhys to see his best friend having his way with the girl he loves more than anything, would it?” He said, as though it was obvious. “Besides, Azriel has way too much respect for him to do that anyways.”
Feyre’s eyes widened in shock but there was also a sickening feeling of jealously bubbling in her stomach. “So, Azriel and Rhys loved the same girl?”
Cassian, way too focused now on stretching to acknowledge how his words had been interpreted. “We all love her but those two always have and always will love her most. She’s their number one girl.”
Number one girl.
Feyre did not like the sound of that at all. She hated it and she hated herself even more because of the jealously that gnawed at her. “They didn’t hate each other for that?” She questioned.
Cassian shook his head, mid lunge. “Azriel had no reason to hate Rhys. It was difficult for Rhys to accept in the beginning and Azriel understood that but Rhys saw how much love was there, it was impossible to miss so who was he to stand in the way of that?”
Feyre stood in thought for a moment. “So, Rhys loved her first?”
Cassian laughed. “Of course he did. It’s not really a competition though, is it?”
She didn’t answer him, she simply stood there, thoughts swirling.
Feyre hated herself, she hated that she could not stop thinking about this girl who must have been something really special for both Rhys and Azriel to both love.
She’s their number one girl.
No matter how hard she had tried to not think about it, she couldn’t help it.
“What’s on your mind, Feyre darling?” Rhys’ smooth voice slipped through the silence of their bedroom.
She looked up at him from her place at the edge of their bed. “It’s nothing,” she stated simply.
Rhys frowned at her dismissal, placing his watch on his bedside table before walking to stand in front of her. He pressed a palm to the side of her face. “Tell me what’s on your mind?”
She sighed, mostly in frustration at herself, partially in his insistence to talk about it. “Where you in love with Azriel’s mate?”
The utter bewilderment that appeared on Rhys’ face made her immediately regret her words and watch to shrink back in on herself. “What!?”
Feyre shook her head. “It doesn’t matter,” she tried to pull away but Rhys kept his hand on the side of her face, steadying her.
“Azriel doesn’t have a mate,” he told her, utter confusion lacing his words.
Feyre shrugged, “Were you in love with the same girl then?”
“I’m so confused, no?” Rhys said, having absolutely no idea where she could’ve gotten this from. “Where have you gotten this from?”
Feyre looked at him, frustration beginning to build within her. “I asked Cassian about how you used to do things in the same room, he said you and him did but not Azriel because it wouldn’t be nice for him to be pleasuring a girl that you loved! He said she was yours and Azriel’s number one girl.”
Rhys pulled his hand from her face and placed it over his mouth. The confusion in his eyes had faded into a an amusing sparkle as his shoulders began shaking with suppressed laughter.
“What!?” Feyre huffed. “What are you laughing at!?”
Rhysand released a full deep chuckle at her frustrations. “Cassian is an idiot and you are utterly beautiful when you’re jealous.”
“I am not jealous!” She argued.
Rhys simply raised an eyebrow at her, completely unconvinced. “You’ve completely misinterpreted Cassian’s words, Feyre darling. It is still not my story to tell but I can promise you that Azriel and I have never been in love with the same girl.”
It had been five centuries since the disappearance of you and your mother and Azriel had never been the same.
Long before he met you, Azriel had learned what it meant to live in loneliness with nothing but his shadows for company but loneliness in response to your absence was never quite something anyone could become familiar with.
It was an endless void of nothing. Normally the thread of silence would at least end somewhere; a place where you simply got used to the feeling of someone not being there; but not with you.
It had been five centuries since your last laugh and that entire time Azriel has spent sleeping in your room. The room that sat right next to his own where your beds were pushed against the shared wall so even in your own beds you would be sleeping as close as you could get to each other.
It remained exactly how you left it, the same books sat on the nightstands, the same jewellery littered across a dressing table and a beautiful dress of deep blue with glittering silver stars on the bodice hung from the door of the closet, preparing to be worn for a day that never came.
Each morning that Azriel woke and got ready for the day, his last words to the House of Wind always remained the same. Leave it exactly how she left it, please.
The House always listened.
Whilst Azriel no longer slept in his own room, it had changed. The walls that were once a basic white had been transformed into a purple so unique it could only reflect the colour of your eyes.
In those rare moments that Azriel was able to relax away from the world, he would lay in his bed and stare at the walls of his room and whilst they could never reflect the light in a sparkle the way your own eyes could, the paint would simply have to do.
The winter chill of the Illyrian Steppes bit harshly into your cheeks as you ran through the thick snow into the forests surrounding the Windhaven camp.
The males were awful here, brutal even but even they knew to leave the daughter of the High Lord alone and so you were free to wander without the risk of your wings being torn from your back.
The trees created sanctuary for you here, as you weaved in between them you thought of your brother, Rhys and how quickly he would lose his mind once he found you gone.
A deep rooted feeling of being watched suddenly stirred in your stomach causing you to pause. It was the most subtle weight you had ever felt and yet you could not help but feel it as it settled into your bones.
You cast a quick glance up into the branches of the trees above you, where their leaves and twigs clashed and combined with one another, it took a moment for you to spot them but eventually you did.
Within a particular tall tree that was shaped in all groves and turns towards the top, deep within the shadows is where you saw him.
A male.
Sitting, observing.
“Hello,” you greeted softly.
No answer.
“What are you doing up there?” You asked.
The shadows fluttered and twitched at first before melting away into a black mist behind the males shoulders, revealing his face.
“Oh,” you whispered, taking in the hard expression of his face. He had hair of a dark midnight sky, eyebrows just a shade lighter that were furrowed deeply, shadowing his eyes that, against his dark features, seemed to glow golden when they narrowed towards you. He was all sharp lines and tensed muscles.
He shifted slightly in his place against the branches of the tree before stepping forward and allowing himself to gracefully drop down in front of you, merely inches away as he stared down into your eyes.
“How did you see me?” He asked, his voice was rough and deep for his age, possibly a couple years older than you, but his tone was steady.
“I didn’t,” you admitted. “I felt your eyes on me.”
It was then that you took notice of just how tightly his wings were pulled in at his back, a complete contrast to yours that were much more relaxed; pulled in just enough to protect them but let out enough that you didn’t have to consciously hold them in all the time, “you’ll get back pain holding them in like that,” you told him, pointing briefly at his wings.
They twitched in response, shadows fluttering wildly around the tips of his wings. It wasn’t a purposeful movement, that you could tell.
“I can’t control them,” He admitted to you.
Your brows furrowed, “what do you mean?”
“I cannot fly,” he said. “I never learned how to control them.”
You stepped back at his words. “You can’t fly!?” You spluttered in outrage. “Why can’t you fly? Are you injured?”
He shrugged in a way that showed this wasn’t a big deal to him, as though it was normal. “I wasn’t allowed outside,” he stated simply.
You frowned, the idea of not being allowed outside was unfathomable to you. “You weren’t allowed?”
“My father didn’t let me,” his words remained even, unaware of the turmoil that was stirring in your gut the more he spoke, a turmoil that you couldn’t quite explain.
“Why?” You asked.
“Because I am a bastard,” he said, his tone empty and detached, as though he had long since accepted that was all he was reduced to.
You did not like how he seemed to convinced that that’s all he was worth.
“You’re a Shadowsinger,” you pointed out, remembering old tales of myths and legends you had read before. “Those are very rare.”
The shadows clinging to him fluttered and preened at the tips of his wings and over his shoulders as though they understood your words.
Azriel nodded in response, feet scuffing into the dirt often forest uncomfortably at your words.
“That’s so cool!” You whispered in awe, the admiration you felt was completely authentic but you were also hoping it comforted him a bit.
He looked at you, the only hint of confusion on his face was the soft crease between his browns and the subtlest tilt of his head. “You’re not scared?” He asked.
“Of what?” You laughed, as though the idea was absurd.
“Of me,” he raised one of his gloved hands, tapping his index finger into his chest.
“Have you given me a reason to be scared?”
He paused at your question, internally baffled at this entire interaction. “I suppose not,” he muttered to himself, the idea of you not being scared simply just from his presence was beyond him.
“What’s your name?” You abruptly changed the subject.
He was silent for a moment, contemplating whether he should tell you or not. “Azriel.”
“Azriel,” you repeated softly, testing how it sounded. “That’s a beautiful name,” you told him.
His shadows twitched, his wings almost flinched at your complement, Azriel shifted uncomfortably.
“Do you want to be my friend, Azriel?”
“I’ve never had a friend before,” he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t think I’d be good at it.”
You pursed your lips in response, looking around the forest floor before speaking. “I’ve never really had a friend either, there’s my brother, Rhys, but he doesn’t count. Do you have any siblings?”
Azriel tensed at your question, his entire body stiffening, hands clenching in his gloves. “No, it’s just me.”
“Well,” you began, “I’d be honoured to be your first friend, if you’ll be mine?”
You were beyond confusing to Azriel, the first person besides his mother to not look at him with fear or disgust, to look at him and just see a person.
Azriel did not reply verbally but he didn’t need to, you didn’t mind and so he simply nodded in response earning a beaming smile from you.
“Spread your wings out wide,” you instructed softly.
“They’re heavy,” Azriel muttered, wings spreading in stuttering movements, face twisting slightly as he concentrated on holding them.
Your eyes ran along his wings now that they weren’t tucked in painfully right, taking in the large span of them, they fluttered under your gaze, completely against Azriel’s control.
“That’s because your back muscles aren’t used to holding their weight, we’ll need to strengthen them,” you explained, eyes snapping away from his wings, towards his own hazel eyes instead.
“How do we strengthen them?” He asked.
“Exercises, most are trained from babies to use their wings so it comes a lot more naturally but we can do it together.” You smiled at him encouragingly.
You knew this was hard for him, you knew he thought he wasn’t worth your help and you knew that this entire situation was uncomfortable for him but you wanted to help him and you liked spending time with him.
“I struggled with flying at first,” you admitted, hoping it would comfort him in some way.
His eyes stopped glancing to the trees around you, now focused. “Really?”
You nodded. “Yeah, Rhys was flying before he could walk but I was too scared to do it. I didn’t trust myself. I kept imagining my wings just not working one day and falling to my death.”
Azriel shifted subtly, shadows restless. “How did you do it?”
“I had no choice,” you said. “One day my mother and I were looking at the stars from the balcony of our home and she just pushed me off, I had no choice but to trust my wings or fall and I flew for the first time that day.”
Azriel’s eyes widened. “She pushed you off the balcony!?”
You smiled widely. “Yeah, I was so angry, I didn’t speak to her for a week but it worked. I won’t be pushing you off ledges until you can hold your wings properly though.”
You could detect the subtle relief that reflected in the golden hazel hue of Azriel’s eyes, as though he expected you to be able to push him off of any ledge and force him to command his wings that didn’t seem willing to answer him yet.
At some point, you will take great joy in pushing him off a cliff.
Not yet though.
Only when he was ready.
“Where does my starlight keep running off to?” Your mother’s gentle voice filtered through your ears as she brushed through your hair carefully.
You were silent for a moment, contemplating whether to reveal your secret. “I made a friend.”
You felt the comb pause briefly against your head before it continued. Your mother hummed absentmindedly. “Did you? Do I get to meet this friend?”
You pursed your lips in contemplation, an unexplainable feeling of protectiveness surging through your body. “He’s shy, he doesn’t like being around people,” you told her.
You missed the amused smile that appeared on your mother’s face, no doubt intrigued at the strange protectiveness that you had for your age. “He?” She asked, almost teasingly.
You huffed in response but a smile grew on your face that you couldn’t stop. “Yes,” you said strongly before your tone shifted to pride. “He’s my friend, I’m teaching him to fly.”
Your mother paused entirely, turning your body to face her own causing your eyes to meet her own that held the same violet hue she passed down to you and your brother. “Teaching him to fly? How old is this friend?”
Your shrugged. “I don’t know, maybe Rhys’ age. His father never let him outside so he can’t fly.”
Worry clouded your mother’s face at your words. “Is he a good boy?”
A bright smile overtook your face at her question. “He’s the best! He’s very quiet but he still speaks to me and he listens to all of my complaining and his shadows play with my hair!”
“Shadows?” Your mother’s eyebrows rose in surprise.
“He’s a Shadowsinger,” you whispered. “Those are very rare.”
“They are,” she repeated. “Don’t tell your father about him, starlight.”
“I would never,” you swore, your voice demonstrating the dramatic outrage of a child who couldn’t fathom sharing information like that to your father. “Mama?”
“Yes, starlight?” She asked, turning you back around so she could start braiding your hair.
“Don’t tell Rhys, okay?” You told her, your brother could get way too protective, it was embarrassing.
“I would never tell Rhys, starlight. Or Cassian.” She promised.
“Definitely not Cassian.” You agreed.
“I’m not ready!” Azriel protested, warily looking over the edge of the cliff you had pretty much dragged him too.
“You are ready!” You argued. “You’ve got great control of your wings and your muscles are as strong as can be!”
Azriel shook his head, shadows darting around him, showing his nerves. “What if I fall?”
“Then I’ll catch you!” You replied simply.
“I’m too heavy for you to catch me!” He protested.
“You are not, I’m strong!” You argued, outraged at his accusation. “I’ll hold your hands?” You proposed, already reaching out towards his own gloved hands.
Azriel looked down at your outstretched hands, hesitation clear on his face, he really wasn’t sure about this but he did really want to be able to fly.
He relented, placing his hands in yours, earning himself one of your bright smiles, stars twinkling happily in your eyes.
Your wings fluttered slowly, not enough to lift you off the ground, just enough to encourage Azriel to copy your actions.
You slowly increased the force at which your wings beat, air building with the crevice of each controlled flap of the membrane.
Azriel copied your movements, his own wings much larger in comparison to any you’ve seen on other children your age, your own were quite big for a female Illyrian so young.
Azriel felt the change in gravity, the way his feet were itching to leave the ground on their own accord, as though his body was fully attuned and aware to what was currently happening even if it was unfamiliar.
“You’re doing it,” you whispered proudly, your own feet lifting off the ground before Azriel’s but your hands stayed in his as you remained stationary in the air, feet just slightly off the ground as you waited patiently for his own body to rise into the wind.
“You’re so close, just a bit more.” You encouraged him.
The second the air swept beneath Azriel’s feet for the first time, it felt as though his entire body was about to fall backwards as he had nothing to stand on but your hands tightened on his own, keeping him straight as he unsteadily rose with you, trying to focus on keeping his wings moving.
“It’ll come naturally the more you do it,” you told him. “You won’t even have to think about it.”
Azriel wasn’t so sure about that but as he felt the wind beneath his wings as he became airborne for the first time, with your hands holding his, he chose to believe you anyway.
“You’re flying Azriel!” Sheer joy and pride filled your face as you looked at him, he thought you looked beautiful like this.
The wind causing your hair to flutter around your face, eyes sparkling at the freedom that flying gave you and your smile took up your whole face as it always did.
Distracted by the sight of you in your element, Azriel lost focus of his wings causing him to quickly drop a few feet but your hands tightened on his just as his heart dropped in his chest out of panic.
He concentrated on beating his wings again, fluttering slightly higher than previously.
But even as he concentrated on flying, his mind was also on something else.
You had caught him, just like you said you would.
Wake. Wake. Wake.
Their hissing little whispers nudged you from unconsciousness. The cold concrete of the cave dug uncomfortably into your back. You groaned, shifting as your eyes opened, adjusting to the thick, clouded darkness you had been forced to endure for five centuries.
Another day it remained the same.
A sharp, slithering coldness nudged against your cheek, and again against your fingertips. You looked down in confusion, taking in the grey-black strands of darkness fluttering around your hands.
You raised your hands slightly, it was hard to see clearly but they resembled beings you had not seen in a very long time. The dark strands fluttered around your fingertips as you stared intently at them and in a movement so sharp, one lone sentient being jumped to your shoulder.
Your head snapped to the side as you looked at it, moving around, nestling into your clothes that had long since been reduced to scraps of fabric.
The beating beneath your chest stuttered as you stared at them.
Shadows.
They were shadows.
Master. Master. Master.
She hears us. She hears us.
They fluttered around you in a way that seemed to portray excitement.
Was that them talking?
“Azriel?” You whispered, broken yet that sick part of you still held a bit of hope.
Many years you had locked out memories of the Shadowsinger yet it never worked too well, you could never forget him and you would never forget the sentient beings that obeyed him either.
No.
They almost sounded like hisses.
“Not Azriel then.” You muttered. It did not surprise you, not really.
You didn’t understand.
“Another Shadowsinger?” You asked, it earned that same excited fluttering dance as before. Yes.
But who? You wondered.
It seemed they knew your thoughts too.
You. You.
Your face contorted into confusion. You weren’t a Shadowsinger.
You allowed yourself to think of Azriel again. Not of him exactly or the feeling of his love that had faded long ago but of his story.
Azriel had not been born a Shadowsinger.
How had Azriel become a Shadowsinger?
He had been locked in a dark cell for eleven years and had no choice but to find companionship within the darkness itself.
Oh.
“You’re my shadows.” You did not question this time.
Yes. They hissed again.
“But the faebane chains?” You wondered aloud.
“Shadows are not magic, they’re simply part of me.” Azriel had told you that before.
You studied them again, more intently this time and whilst they resembled the shadows of Azriel’s so very much there was the slightest hint of a difference; they weren’t just a grey-black, they had the slightest underlying tint of purple.
They truly were yours.
Release chains. They muttered, not to you, to themselves, fluttering around frantically.
“I can’t,” you whispered in long accepted defeat. “They won’t come off, someone else needs to do it.”
Your newly acquired shadows ignored you, muttering to themselves.
Shadowsinger will do it. Spymaster will do it.
But your energy was draining again, conscious slipping into darkness, your shadows slipping through the cracks of the cave without you knowing.
Azriel had been born alone and he would die alone.
He had accepted that was all life was made for him, there were those years he had you, moments were he thought he’d have you forever but you were taken, brutally slaughtered along with your mother in the spring court.
He had never and will never forgive himself for not being there to protect you. Truthfully he did not know how Rhysand could go on with life after that, not that his High Lord and brother didn’t deserve to live, he did, but how had grief not taken his sanity Azriel would never know.
He would never know how Rhys could look in the mirror and not see the shadows of his mother and sister, not when some days Azriel could not look into his eyes and see the very reflection of the young woman he lost, his woman.
It would forever just be Azriel and his shadows.
Another night that Azriel slept in your room alone, beneath your sheets, on the pillows you always hid that ridiculous stuffed bat beneath.
When he awoke this time though, it was different.
His shadows, usually fluttering lazily were muttering and batting around recklessly, their unease settling in Azriel’s chest, having the spymaster looking around the room carefully.
The only thing that seemed wrong were his shadows themselves, it was as though they were fighting each other?
Intruder. Intruder. They hissed, flying into each other as though they were in a sort of disorientated state. Azriel had never seen anything like it before.
Deep down, Azriel understood that there was no intruder in the House of Wind but he did not understand what they could be referring to.
The bond between himself and his shadows was strange. They told him things yes, but a lot of their communication came down to feelings, he felt their unease, their frustration, as though they were participating in an internal battle.
But why?
He sat up in your bed and observed them closely. He too, could see that there was something off but couldn’t quite put his mind to it.
Intruder. But where?
The shadows hissed at each other, floating around the room in distress, it was when the golden rays of the morning sunrise shone through the balcony window that he saw it.
His eyes, always so sharp, caught that difference in his shadows. Not his shadows, he concluded. Eyes widening, he reached out to that invisible thread and called his shadows back to him with a snap.
There it was.
A small cluster that did not return to him, a cluster of shadows that looked just the slightest different to his own. That underlying purple tint was not his.
He tried to reach out, tried to find that tether to them.
Nothing.
They did not seem threatening though.
They fluttered and danced around before him, as though they were trying to communicate with him but could not.
Help. His own shadows muttered.
“Help?” He questioned.
They plead help. They hissed into his ears. Another Shadowmaster. Trapped.
Azriel shook his head, he was the only shadowmaster.
No. They hissed, more stern this time, as though telling him he was wrong.
Azriel removed himself from your bed, pulling on his Illyrian leathers as quickly as possible, not even strapping his weapons to himself. Instead he simply grabbed Truthteller alone into its sheath.
He approached the bedroom door, turning to see if those other shadows would follow, they were.
He let himself out of the room, shadows, his and not his following behind closely, he barged into Rhys’ study causing the High Lord to jump, not that he would ever admit.
“Azriel?” Rhys greeted, looking up from his papers in barely concealed surprise. “A knock would be nice.”
“We have a problem.” Azriel simply responded earning Rhys’ full attention.
“What is it?”
Azriel held out a gloved hand and while Azriel had no means to communicate with these shadows, they understood him and gathered into his palm, fluttering into a rounded shape.
Rhys simply looked at them in confusion. “What am I looking at? New party trick?”
Azriel shook his head, face contorting as he studied them. “They’re not mine, I can’t communicate with them.”
“What?” Rhys uttered to himself.
“There’s another Shadowsinger out there,” Azriel responded, mostly to himself. “They communicate with my shadows but I can’t understand them myself.”
“Another Shadowsinger?” His High Lord mumbled, shaking his head. “No, you’re the only Shadowsinger alive.”
“Not anymore,” Azriel argued, his and the guest shadows beginning to flutter wildly in their own disagreement. “Apparently they’re trapped.”
Chained. His shadows corrected. Caved.
“Chained,” he spoke aloud.
“Perhaps for good reason,” Rhys argued, whilst Azriel was his brother and he trusted him beyond measures, he was well aware just how powerful Shadowsingers were, if this other Shadowsinger was locked away then perhaps it was because it was deserved.
Azriel shook his head, a sort of confused anguish taking over his features as he observed the shadows sitting in his palm. “They don’t feel threatening, or evil. They’re scared, pleading for help, for freedom.”
“How do you know they’re not pretending? That this other Shadowsinger hasn’t sent these here to play a ruse just to get their freedom?” Rhys asked.
The guest shadows in his palm shrunk down in defeat whilst his own fluttered in agitation around his shoulders and the tips of his wings.
She doesn’t know they’re here. She can’t control it yet.
Azriel listened to their whispers with widened eyes before looking at Rhys. “She cannot control them, this ability must be newly manifested, they came here on their own. Besides, shadows don’t work like that, they can’t fake feelings or emotions.”
“She?” Rhys sat up straighter in his chair at the newfound information.
“I can’t explain it, Rhys,” Azriel muttered, deep in thought. “I have this feeling that I need to free her, I don’t know why, it just feels right to.”
Those lone little shadows of yours clung to Azriel in the following days, against your knowledge. Azriel spent that time preparing himself for rescuing you, not that he knew it would be you he was rescuing, trying to gain as much information as he could through his own shadows translating messages back and forth with yours.
It was strange for Azriel, not only that there were sentient echoes of darkness that for some reason he could not communicate with but also knowing that somewhere out there, trapped and alone, there was another like him, another who could communicate with the darkness and melt into the shadows, even if it was a new manifestation.
The cave you were imprisoned in, he learned, was located somewhere in The Middle, because of course it was.
What other place would be sick enough to have trapped a person so long that the shadows had sought them out?
Trapped for centuries. The shadows had told him.
Bound by faebane chains, tormented by memories of a time that had long since faded.
Azriel, in all he had been through and in all his grief and terror over the years, could not imagine being trapped within the same four walls for hundreds of years.
He had barely lasted eleven, Rhys had hardly lasted fifty and yet out there, a poor woman had lasted hundreds of years, alone.
A woman of his kind.
The cave, as Azriel stood before it, was hardly a cave. It was more a carved hole in the ground, hidden by overgrown moss and shrubbery that even he, a spymaster, would have overlooked had he passed by without your shadows leading him to it.
He wasn’t even sure he’d be able to squeeze his overgrown body into it.
Your shadows shot forward like whips, diving into the underground cave, no doubt snapping back to you, even though your lack of control, they were drawn to you, desired to be close to your being.
Azriel crouched down, inspecting the gap in the ground, his own shadows fluttering around in agitation, some even darting ahead into the cave. He peeled off his outer layers that he strapped his weapons to, sending them down into the cave before him.
Risky, no doubt, but he felt no threat towards whatever presence was inside this cave, only an innocently, trapped Shadowsinger.
One that meant no harm, only desiring freedom.
He heaved himself through the gap, the concrete lining the underground cave scratching against his arms and shoulders as he dragged himself through, gravity doing most of the work, allowing him to drop down onto solid stone and rock.
It smelled awful; blood, dirt, faebane and a hell of a lot like someone had long since lost the will to live.
He saw the chains, loads of them, hanging from the ceiling, from the walls, even some bound to the ground with bolts.
Even as someone bound by shadows and member of the Night Court, Azriel could not see clearly in the darkness of this pit but his shadows led the way, they led him to your shadows.
Your shadows that covered just about every part of you, hiding you as though attempting to protect your presence from anyone who could possibly mean harm, leaving you just the image of a darkened, fuzzy blur.
“I will not harm her,” Azriel promised. “I only want to free her, take her back to the Night Court, help her heal and gain control.”
He saw the way they hesitated, how they debated whether they had made the right decision in finding him or not.
She trusted you. They whispered, confessed. His own shadows translating. Long time ago.
Azriel did not know what they meant by that. Had he known her once upon a time?
It was when they finally relented and made the decision to fade away from covering your body that Azriel, despite all the gore and torment he had witnessed in his life, felt like he was going to be sick as his eyes fell upon the battered figure of a young, fae woman.
His fae woman.
No. He shook his head, as though it would shake the sick illusion from his mind.
Yet you remained in his sight.
He knew that figure, that hair, those lashes. It has all haunted his every sleep and movement for the last five hundred years. The colour beneath your eyelids that he had drenched his walls in, that he would look upon every morning and every night.
Even unhealthily slimmer than you had been five hundred years ago, there would not be a single moment or a single version of you in which Azriel would not recognise.
The first person who had shown him grace, who had shown him that kindness and love does in fact exist, the person who had given him the family that he still clings to today in hopes of grasping at every last remainder of you that he had believed was long lost.
Your name was a ghost on his lips as he surged forward, shadows following, your own fluttering at his shoulders now as he unsheathed truth-teller and sliced through the chains binding you to this sick prison.
The dagger you had given him.
The first gift he had ever received.
He collapsed to his knees beside your battered, unconscious body.
Your breaths shallow, wrists and ankles raw from centuries of imprisonment, body all but skin and bones.
He smoothed a marred thumb over your cheekbone, hands shaking as he took you in, your body surrendered to his touch as though finally, it had found something safe it could relax itself in.
And though you were unaware, still in the depths of your mind, your eyes had fluttered open, a deep purple hue that he had missed for hundreds of years.
Azriel choked on a sob as he gazed upon you again, his soul shattering open at the sight of the only person he had ever loved in his five hundred years walking the lands of Prythian.
He felt the moment part of his soul tore from his chest and landed straight into yours, a golden thread deep within him keeping it tethered to himself even though it now sat with you.
Because even though Azriel had never needed the confirmation of the Cauldron to know what you were to him, why had it taken him finding you after so long to finally snap into place?
Not a sharp pain. Not one single injury I could focus on and understand. It was everywhere, a deep, throbbing ache that settled into every inch of my body, like I had been beaten, dragged, dropped, and then beaten again for good measure.
My head hung forward and for a moment I couldn't open my eyes. Everything felt heavy. My arms, my legs, even my breathing felt like work.
Then cold water crashed over my head.
I gasped sharply as freezing water soaked through me, shocking my body awake, forcing my eyes open as I choked and coughed, trying to suck in air.
My vision blurred, then slowly cleared. Dark stone walls. A single dim light. Concrete floor.
I tried to move and immediately felt the pull on my arms.
My wrists were shackled above my head, chains bolted into the ceiling. My feet barely touched the ground just the tips of my toes scraping the concrete, forcing my shoulders to take most of my weight.
Every small movement sent pain shooting down my arms.
I was dressed only in my thin white shift, the fabric now completely soaked from the water and clinging uncomfortably to my skin. My hair hung in wet strands around my face, dripping onto the floor below me.
And then I saw him.
Dante stood a few feet in front of me, smiling like this was all some sort of game. His blue eyes looked different now—colder, sharper, crueller.
The charming stranger from Velaris was gone. In his place stood someone else entirely.
Four other males stood around the room, leaning against walls or watching me like I was something they had caught in a trap.
He reached out and patted my cheek lightly, mockingly, like I was a child who had done something amusing.
I flinched away from his touch.
"Who are you?" I breathed, my voice hoarse and weak.
"Your worst nightmare," Dante said dramatically, then immediately laughed at his own joke, looking back at the others like he expected applause.
One of the other males snorted.
Another stepped forward slightly, his face harder, older, eyes filled with open hatred.
"We are soldiers," he said, "that your bastard of a High Lord discarded and destroyed."
I frowned slightly, trying to focus through the pain.
"That... that has nothing to do with me," I said, pulling weakly at the chains around my wrists. The metal bit into my skin but didn't move.
"Doesn't matter," Dante said smoothly, beginning to circle me slowly. "We served the Hewn City for centuries. Did the jobs no one else wanted. Interrogations. Punishments. Keeping everyone in line."
He leaned closer to me. "We were very good at it."
Another one of the males sneered. "But then Rhysand decided he wanted to be a better ruler. Decided we were too cruel. Too brutal. Too unnecessary."
"So we were dismissed," another spat. "Stripped of rank. Stripped of power. Cast aside like we were nothing after centuries of service."
"You can blame your High Lord," Dante said, tilting his head slightly as he studied my face. "Everything that happens to you now is because of him."
My stomach dropped.
"You kidnapped me... because of Rhysand?" I whispered.
"Not just Rhysand," one of them said. "Rhysand and his High Lady. His precious court. His perfect little city."
Dante smiled slowly. "We can't beat Rhysand in war. No one is stupid enough to try that. But we can hurt him."
Cold fear slid down my spine.
"So," Dante continued, spreading his arms slightly like he was presenting something wonderful, "we take the sister of his mate. We make the High Lord and High Lady pay a very large ransom. Consider it reimbursement for our centuries of loyal service."
My heart pounded so hard I could hear it in my ears.
"Why me?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.
Dante stopped in front of me again and looked directly into my eyes. "Because," he said simply, "you were the easiest."
The words hit harder than any slap.
"Feyre is High Lady," he continued, counting on his fingers. "Always surrounded by Rhysand, by power. Untouchable."
"Nesta is a Valkyrie," another one added. "And mated to the Lord of Bloodshed. Also surrounded by warriors at all times."
"Elain has the fox," another said with a small smirk. "The seer power. And she's rarely alone."
Dante shrugged slightly. "But you? You walk around Velaris alone. No guards. No title. No power anyone talks about. No one watching you closely."
He leaned in slightly closer. "You were the weakest link. The easiest target."
I stared at him, my chest rising and falling too fast now. Weakest. Easiest. Target.
I swallowed hard. "They're not going to pay," I said quietly.
Dante blinked. "Oh, I think they will."
I shook my head slowly, the chains rattling softly above me. "No. You don't understand. You picked the wrong sister."
He frowned slightly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," I said, my voice shaking now but the words coming anyway, "Feyre is the important one. Nesta is powerful. Elain can see the future. They matter. They're loved. They're needed."
I laughed weakly, the sound hollow in the empty room.
"I'm just the extra sister," I said. "The one no one really notices. The one who doesn't have a title or power or a mate or anything important."
I looked up at him, meeting his eyes.
"You kidnapped the wrong Archeron," I whispered. "No one is going to come for me."
For a moment, Dante just stared at me. Then he smiled slowly. "We'll see about that," he said.
One of the other males, the one leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, suddenly straightened slightly. His nose twitched like he smelled something strange, his head tilting slightly as if listening to something no one else could hear.
"Do you smell that?" he asked, looking around the room.
Another one frowned. "Smell what?"
He pushed himself off the wall slowly and took a few steps closer, sniffing the air again, more deliberately this time. His eyes moved over the room, then landed on me. His gaze sharpened.
"Wait," he muttered. "No way."
"What?" Dante asked, slightly annoyed.
The male walked closer until he was standing directly in front of me, far too close, and inhaled slowly again like he was confirming something.
He circled me once, like I was some kind of animal he was inspecting. Then he looked back at the others.
"She doesn't smell unmated."
The room went quiet for a second.
Dante blinked. "What?"
"She smells like him," the male said. "Like the Night Court spymaster."
My stomach dropped slightly. "I live in the same house as him," I said quickly. "That's probably why."
The male shook his head slowly. "No. Not just proximity." He tapped the side of his nose. "I was a tracker in the Hewn City. Interrogator too. They used me to find people who didn't want to be found. I can smell magic, lies, fear... bonds."
He leaned in slightly again, inhaling near my shoulder. "This isn't living-in-the-same-house scent. This is soul-bond scent."
A slow smile spread across his face.
"Oh, this is interesting."
Dante stepped closer now too, grabbing my chin roughly and turning my face slightly as if that would somehow help him smell whatever they were talking about.
I tried to pull away but the chains held me in place, metal biting into my wrists.
"This," the tracker said slowly, "is a mating bond."
I blinked at him. "What?"
The males all looked at each other. Then they started laughing. Not a small laugh. Not a chuckle. Full laughter like this was the funniest thing they had heard all day.
"You didn't know?" one of them said between laughs.
I frowned slightly, confused and suddenly uneasy. "Know what?"
Dante looked absolutely delighted now. "You're telling me," he said slowly, "that you are mated to the Shadowsinger... and you don't even know it?"
My heart started pounding. "That's not funny."
"Oh, it's very funny," one of them said.
"It means," another one added mockingly, "that the Cauldron decided you and the Shadowsinger belong to each other. Soulmates. Two halves of the same bond. Very romantic."
I stared at them, trying to process the words. "No," I said quietly. "No, that's not possible."
"Oh, it is," Dante said, tapping the side of his nose. "He can smell it. Especially strong ones."
Strong.
My mind immediately went to every time Azriel had avoided me. Every time he had left a room when I entered. Every time he spoke to me carefully, politely, distantly. Every time he looked at me like he wanted to say something but didn't.
He knew. He had known. And he never told me.
Of course he hadn't told me.
Why would he want me? The useless Archeron sister. The forgotten one. The one with no power, no title, no importance.
A broken sound escaped my throat before I could stop it, and I realised a second later that tears were sliding down my face.
I turned my head slightly, trying to hide it, but I couldn't wipe them away with my hands chained above me.
"Oh no," one of the males said in a mock-sympathetic voice. "She's crying."
"Did he reject you?" another asked with fake concern. "Is that why you didn't know? He didn't want you?"
I squeezed my eyes shut, more tears slipping down my face.
It made sense now. Why he avoided me. Why he kept his distance. Why he never got too close. Why he was always kind but never warm.
He didn't want me. He was stuck with me. The Cauldron really had ruined his life too.
"Well," Dante said slowly, pacing in front of me again, "this changes things."
I opened my eyes again, my vision blurry. "How?" I whispered.
He smiled, but this time there was nothing charming about it. It was cruel. Sharp. Dangerous.
"Because," he said, "the Shadowsinger killed one of our brothers."
The room seemed to grow colder.
"And now," another one added slowly, "we have his mate."
Dante leaned closer to me, lowering his voice slightly like he was sharing a secret. "I think," he said, "we should make Azriel suffer the same way we did."
My heart dropped into my stomach.
"You were just a ransom before," he continued softly. "Just a way to get money and revenge on Rhysand."
He tilted his head slightly, studying my face, the tears, the fear.
"But now," he said, smiling again, "you are something much more valuable."
I didn't say anything. I couldn't.
"Now," Dante finished, "you are how we break the Shadowsinger."
Azriel's POV -
I could physically feel her pain.
It wasn't constant, not a steady ache I could learn to ignore. It came in waves. Sharp, sudden, unbearable waves that hit my chest so hard I sometimes had to stop what I was doing just to breathe through it.
Fear. Grief. Exhaustion. Pain. So much pain.
The bond in my chest throbbed like a wound that would not close, like a thread being pulled too tight, like somewhere far away she was hurting and I could do nothing but feel echoes of it.
I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I couldn't think about anything else.
I had already dispatched every spy I had. Every contact, every informant, every shadow network I had built over centuries.
My shadows themselves had spread across Velaris, across the Night Court, slipping through alleys and taverns and docks and abandoned buildings, searching for any trace of her.
Nothing.
It had been four days. Four whole days of nothing.
She couldn't be dead. I knew that much with absolute certainty. If she were dead, the bond would have fractured—I would have felt it like my soul being torn in half. I would have known.
She was alive but she was hurting. And I couldn't find her.
I sat in my office in the Townhouse, shoulders hunched forward, staring out the window without really seeing anything.
Velaris moved below like it always did, others walking, laughing, living their lives and it felt wrong that the world kept moving when she was gone.
I should have told her.
The thought came again, like it had a thousand times in the last four days.
I should have told her about the bond. I should have told her she mattered. I should have told her she wasn't invisible to me. I should have told her I loved her.
Instead, the last thing I did was let her walk out of the house angry.
I rubbed a hand over my face, exhaustion pulling at every part of me. I hadn't slept more than an hour at a time since she disappeared. Every time I closed my eyes, the bond would twist again and I would wake immediately, heart racing, convinced she was dying somewhere.
A soft meow pulled my attention away from the window.
I looked down.
Nova stood at my feet, her green eyes looking up at me expectantly, like she thought I could fix this, like I could open the door and her owner would walk back in.
She had barely left my side since that night. She slept in my room now, sat on my desk while I worked, followed me through the house like a small silent shadow.
She missed her. I understood that feeling more than anyone.
I bent down slowly and scooped Nova into my arms. She immediately curled into my chest, purring softly but the sound wasn't her usual happy purr, it was quieter, almost worried.
"I miss her too," I whispered, running a hand gently down her back.
Nova looked up at me and meowed softly, like she was asking where she was.
"I'm trying to find her," I told the small black cat quietly. "I'm trying. I swear I am."
My voice sounded rough even to my own ears.
"I should have stopped her from leaving," I continued quietly, more to myself than to the cat. "I should have gone after her. I should have told her everything."
Nova pressed her head into my hand and I closed my eyes for a moment, resting my forehead lightly against the top of her head.
"I think she believes I didn't want her," I whispered. "I think she thinks I avoided her because I didn't care."
The bond in my chest twisted painfully again, so sharp I sucked in a breath.
"I was trying to protect her," I said quietly. "From me. From this life. From everything I am."
Nova purred softly, completely unaware that she was probably the only thing keeping me remotely sane at this point.
"I will find her," I whispered into the quiet office. "I don't care who took her. I don't care where they took her. I don't care how long it takes."
My shadows curled slowly around my shoulders, restless, angry, ready.
"I will find her," I repeated softly, my voice colder now. "And when I do... they will beg for death before I'm finished with them."
Three more days passed. Three more days of nothing.
Seven days since she disappeared. Seven days since I last saw her standing in the sitting room, angry and hurt and looking at me like I was something she couldn't quite understand. Seven days since I let her walk out that door without following.
Seven days of the bond twisting in my chest like a knife.
I stopped sleeping entirely somewhere around the fifth day. Not intentionally, my body simply refused to rest.
Every time I closed my eyes, I felt her again. Fear. Pain. Cold. Loneliness. It would jolt me awake immediately, heart racing, shadows already moving before I was even fully conscious.
I had searched everywhere. Velaris, the Illyrian camps, Hewn City, the borders, the human lands. My spies had turned over every tavern, every dock, every inn, every black market contact we had.
Nothing. It was like she had vanished from the world.
By the seventh night, I was standing in the training ring outside the house and I was no longer training.
I was destroying things.
A straw dummy stood in front of me and I drove Truth-Teller through its chest so hard the wooden post behind it cracked. I ripped the blade free and slashed again, and again, and again, until straw spilt everywhere like guts and the dummy hung in pieces.
I moved to the next one. Strike. Slice. Stab. Again. Again. Again.
I barely registered the sound of wings landing behind me.
"Az," Cassian's voice said carefully. "You're going to break something."
"I already did," I said without turning around, driving the knife into another dummy so hard the entire thing toppled over.
"Azriel," Rhys said, his voice quieter but sharper. "This isn't helping."
I turned then, slowly, breathing hard, shadows writhing around me like smoke in a storm. Cassian and Rhys stood at the edge of the ring, both watching me carefully like I was some kind of wild animal that might attack if they moved too fast.
"I don't remember asking for help," I said flatly.
Cassian crossed his arms. "You haven't slept in days."
"So what?" I replied.
Rhys stepped forward slightly. "We are looking for her. Every court, every contact, every spy network we have—"
"Not fast enough," I snapped.
Silence fell heavily between us.
"You think we don't care?" Cassian asked, his voice starting to edge toward anger now.
I laughed once, but there was no humour in it. "I think you don't understand."
Rhys's eyes narrowed slightly. "Then explain it to us."
I stared at both of them for a long moment, my chest tight, the bond aching, my hands still wrapped around the hilt of my dagger.
"How would you feel," I said slowly, my voice rough from disuse and exhaustion, "if it was Feyre?"
Rhys went completely still.
I looked at Cassian. "How would you feel if it was Nesta?"
Cassian's jaw tightened immediately.
"If they were gone for seven days," I continued, my voice getting quieter and more dangerous, "if you could feel their fear, their pain, their exhaustion, and you had no idea where they were or who had them or if they were being hurt—"
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly tight.
"How would you feel if the last thing you did was let them walk away from you angry?"
Neither of them said anything. They didn't need to. They understood now. Really understood.
The bond in my chest suddenly pulled hard, not pain this time, but something else. Something sharp and urgent and alive.
At the same moment, one of my shadows shot across the training ring and wrapped around my wrist, cold and insistent.
I froze.
The shadow curled up my arm and across my shoulder, then pressed against my ear, whispering in a voice only I could hear. I went completely still as it spoke.
Location found.
Every part of me went cold and sharp and focused all at once.
Rhys stepped forward immediately. "Azriel?"
I looked up at them slowly, my shadows already gathering, already moving, already preparing.
"I found her," I said quietly.
And then my wings spread wide behind me.
A/N - A little explanation for the abduction and a bond reveal that does not land well for her, she is NOT thriving with the information and who can blame her when her first conclusion is "oh great, I'm unwanted"—painful but very on-brand for her current situation :(
Azriel is doing what Azriel does best, absolutely not coping in any functional way. At least Nova is there acting as his tiny emotional support shadow with paws!
I know the ending is a cliffhanger, I'm aware it's mean but also I regret nothing because storytelling requires a little chaos and emotional damage xx
Summary: When Y/N touches an ancient artifact, she finds herself falling through time.
A/N: It’s not the most thought-through story I’ve ever posted, but we’re here for a good time and not to win a Pulitzer amirite? Also, once again I have rushed the ending because who has the time lol
Word count: 5800
Warnings: mild description of injuries, language, some implications of sexy time
-
“I want to touch it.”
“Don’t you dare.”
Y/N snickered as Rhys’ arm shot forward to slap Cassian’s hand away from the gleaming crystal.
The Lord of Bloodshed rolled his eyes. “It’s a crystal, Rhys. It won’t bite my hand off.”
It was Azriel’s calm tone that now sounded from behind Y/N’s back.
“Given that it was Devlon who discovered it, I would suggest treading carefully, brother.”
Cassian rolled his eyes and crossed bulging arms over his chest in a display of annoyance. He stood tall enough for his head to brush against the roof of the makeshift tent the Illyrians of Windhaven had erected on the edge of their camp. It stood just a few steps away from Rhys’ cabin, shielding a low stump atop which a comically small crystal rested for them to inspect.
“What did he say it was?” Rhys asked as he circled the stump with a pensive expression.
“He thinks it is a relic of the gods that ruled over Prythian before the age of the Fae,” Azriel explained calmly, hands crossed behind his back with his wings neatly folded. He was the picture of professionalism. Ever the spymaster.
Y/N smiled at him and felt her nose crinkle with delight at the smile he gave in return. His lips curled barely noticeable, but the secret lay in the spark that set his eyes aglow. It was the smile he reserved solely for her. It was accompanied by a tug of the bond.
“It could just as well be an ordinary crystal,” Cassian intervened. “I say we take it with us and ask Helion to have his librarians take a look at it.”
“What if it’s an ancient weapon though? We could accidentally set it off,” Y/N said, looking from Azriel to Cassian and back. “Did Devlon say how he got it up on the log without touching it?”
“He used sticks.” Azriel’s face twisted into a grimace as though to express his discomfort with the Illyrian warlord’s simple methods.
Cassian snorted at that. “Elegant.”
Rhys sighed, running a palm down his face. “Azriel, could you try having your shadows lift it? I fear Cassian might be right and Helion’s libraries are our best shot. I don’t want to spend the rest of my day here because of a shiny rock.”
Azriel gave a single nod, and at once, shadows swarmed in from every direction to draw tight around the crystal.
One of the shadowsinger’s brows quirked up. “It’s surprisingly heavy.”
Y/N felt her forehead crease with worry as she watched the shadows begin to rise with the object they’d circled—their movements slow, sluggish even.
“Be careful not to drop—”
But before Rhys could finish his sentence, Azriel’s shadows shuddered as though they’d been hurt, and the crystal fell from its encasing.
Y/N lunged without a second thought, and as her fingers wrapped around the cool, smooth surface of the cylindric crystal, the last thing she heard was her name—twisted with panic as it fell from her mate’s lips in a call to rattle her bones.
-
A low roar rang through Y/N’s head as she pulled open her eyes, squinting against the blinding beams of the setting sun.
Had it not been noon just now?
And had there not been a tent?
There was dirt beneath her palms as she pushed to her knees, sharp pebbles pressing deep into her skin. Every bone in her body was aching, a slight sense of nausea sitting in the very pit of her stomach.
As she lifted her head to look around, everything seemed normal enough. There was Rhys' cabin behind her, sitting right on the border of a war camp that had just moments earlier been bristling with life. She could still hear faint voices, but something seemed ... gloomier than usual.
Turning her head, Y/N found only empty space where Azriel, Rhys and Cassian had stood just a moment ago, and at once, her heart picked up its pace. There was no sign of the tent. No sign of her friends.
No sign of her mate.
"Azriel?" she heard herself call into the eery silence of approaching nightfall.
Had that crystal knocked her out? Surely, her friends wouldn't have just left her there if that had been the case—Azriel wouldn’t have left her. Something had to have happened.
It took a few tries to force her body back on her feet. Her knees were wobbly, dizziness washing over her in waves, and just as she was about to call out for Azriel again, she spotted something gleaming on the muddy mountain ground.
The crystal.
She knew better than to touch it again, pulling the sleeve of her fighting leathers over her hand as she reached out to carefully pick up the crystal to push it into the depths of her pocket.
Whatever was going on, it had started when she touched the crystal—she was sure of it.
The shockwave must've knocked her unconscious somehow, but that did not yet explain what had happened to Azriel and the others.
A lump of worry sat in the pit of her stomach, though she got momentarily distracted as a voice sounded behind her and her heart gave a startled leap.
"Can I help you, girl?"
Turning, she found a large Illyrian male, arms the size of tree trunks crossed over a broad chest, and thick brows tugged deep into his face. He looked grim in the way he scanned her from top to bottom.
"You haven't by any chance seen the Shadowsinger anywhere, have you?" He stared at her, unmoving, unblinking, so she cleared her throat, and continued, "Or perhaps the General? The High Lord?"
His eyebrow quirked at that. "And what business might you have with the High Lord, woman?"
She bristled at his tone. She was used to the Illyrian disregard towards anything female, but ever since she'd been mated to Azriel and frequented the camps accompanying Cassian or the Valkyries, most had gotten used to seeing her around.
"That is none of your concern," she said. "I was merely asking whether you'd seen him. He was here just a moment ago. Along with the General and the Shadowsinger."
"There you go with that word again," the Illyrian said, tilting his head with a mildly condescending glint in his eye. "What might a shadowsinger be?"
She stared at him.
He stared back.
As she turned her head, she assured herself that they were, in fact, in Windhaven. Perhaps she’d been transported to some other camp somehow?
But no, that was definitely Rhys’ cabin behind her.
Had this male spent the last five hundred years in a cave? How was it possible for him to not know of Azriel?
Surely, he was mocking her.
"I shall go look for them myself," she muttered, turning to head for the heart of the camp. "Perhaps Devlon knows where they went."
Suddenly, a large hand wrapped around her arm, its grip tight enough to bruise her skin even through her leathers.
Turning abruptly, she found herself face to face with the stranger.
"Who do you think you are to speak of Lord Devlon in such a way?" the Illyrian growled so close to her face that she could smell meat on his breath. "I don't know how you got into this camp in the first place, but unless you intend to get on your back, spread your legs and work on popping out a few half-breed soldiers, I suggest you hurry back to where you came from. High Fae have no business in Illyria."
She stared at him. "I beg your pard—"
"Galen,” a new voice called from behind the stranger, who in return twisted his neck to see who had called for him. “What do you have there?”
Galen’s face never lost its scowl. “I caught a High Fae female snooping around.”
Laughter rang across the clearing—growing nearer by the second—and it was that moment that Y/N decided that it was best to not stick around.
With a skilled kick of the knee—a move Cassian had taught her—she sent Galen’s body curling into a ball as his hands flew to his loins with a pained groan falling from his lips.
Before his friend had a chance to catch up with her, she turned, and she ran.
-
Breath was tearing in and out of her lungs as Y/N jumped behind a nondescript hut at the corner of the camp, praying to the Mother that her pursuers had lost her trace by now.
It had taken every bit of the knowledge she’d gathered over the past decades to navigate the camp and lose the growing group of angry Illyrians attempting to catch her. She did not want to entertain the thought of being caught, as it had dawned on her by now that for some reason, they had no idea who she was. There was no telling what they would do without the protection of her name.
She held her breath as she observed Galen and his fellow warriors taking a route that led them to the centre of the courtyard and therefore a bit further away from her hiding place. A sigh fell from her lips.
Her relief, however, was short lived, as she soon noticed a figure moving from the corner of her eye—a figure close enough to capture her.
But when Y/N spun around with her dagger lifted in defence, her knee still digging into the dirt, she saw herself faced with a boy no older than eight or nine.
"By the Mother," she hissed, lowering her dagger, though she didn't yet sheathe it entirely, for fear the large Illyrian brutes would return any moment to snatch her. "Don't sneak up on people like that or you will catch an accidental blade to the gut one of these days."
The boy didn't say anything. He observed her with interest flickering in his eyes, though the rest of his face remained perfectly neutral, his arms crossed behind his back.
His hair was as dark as that of most Illyrians, shaggy in the way the strands dangled before his deep brown eyes. But other than most Illyrian children she'd seen over the past few decades, he was smaller, paler, his wings folded neatly behind his back, though somehow ... thinner than she'd come to know.
She cleared her throat. "Listen, I would be immensely grateful if you didn't rat me out."
His eyes flickered to something behind her then, but when she turned, she saw nothing, and when she peeked around the corner of the hut once more, the commotion in the courtyard had cleared, the booming voice of her pursuer growing more and more distant.
"I heard you ask for a shadowsinger," the boy said quietly, and it was the first time she heard him speak. His voice was calm, though there was a rasp to it that suggested disuse.
"Yes," she said, her heart leaping with hope. "Have you seen him?"
The boy looked at her, and for a moment it almost seemed like his eyes carried all the wisdom in the world—wisdom far beyond his age, and grief he shouldn't yet know.
"What is a shadowsinger?"
She sighed, slumping back against the wall of the hut when she concluded that the boy would most likely not slit her throat. This situation was a mess, and she was starting to grow tired of it.
"You'd know if you'd seen him," she muttered. "He commands shadows. They follow him around, circle his limbs, that sort of stuff."
It was silent for a while, but when the boy spoke again, his tone had changed, a note of curiosity bleeding into his words.
"I didn't know that's what they called someone who could do that."
She offered him a small smile, but when she noted a shadowy tendril curling its way up her arm, she bolted upright, her back suddenly straightened from the hunched position she'd kept.
"Are you doing this?" she asked, watching as the shadow detached itself from her to scurry across the muddy ground towards the boy's feet.
When she looked at him, he gave a single nod, his chin now lowered a fraction as though bashful.
"So you are a shadowsinger, too!" she smiled. "That's a rare and powerful gift you have there."
The boy hummed, the tip of his boot kicking at a pebble as he took his eyes from her for a moment. "My father says it's nonsense."
"Then your father is a moron," she said, grimacing when she realised what she'd said. "No offence."
She thought she could see the slightest twitch of his lips, but it was gone faster than it had appeared, and he swiftly slipped back into that seriousness that seemed much too heavy for his age.
"My mate is a shadowsinger as well," she offered. "He's the spymaster, right hand to the High Lord. He's one of the three most powerful males of this court."
The boy tilted his head. "He's who you're looking for?"
She nodded. "I think I ... I might have hit my head and passed out, and now I can't find him anywhere." She cleared her throat as she hugged her knees, the dagger now forgotten on the ground beside her, the mountain wind blowing the hair from her face. "I'm starting to get worried something bad might have happened."
He seemed to contemplate her words for a moment. "I could help you find him."
She looked at him. "You'd do that?"
He gave another single nod. "I could ask the shadows to tell me where he is."
Her shoulders sagged a bit with relief. She knew the power of shadows, knew their infallible ability to locate.
"That would be—" but she didn't get to finish her sentence, as the last of her words got stuck in her throat when the boy lifted his hands to gather a dark cluster of shadow before him.
She stared at him then, at the dark eyes, at the tilt of his mouth, the soft round cheeks, the shaggy black hair covering his forehead. There was a freckle just beneath the corner of his left eye, and as her gaze flickered back down to his bandaged hands, the world seemed to tip to its side.
She noticed his lips moving, a puzzled look on his face when she only stared at him.
She blinked, shook her head.
"I'm sorry," she muttered. "What did you say?"
"I asked if you're okay."
"Oh ... yes, yeah." Running a hand through her hair, Y/N turned to check if they were still alone. "I, uhm," she cleared her throat as she turned back. "I'm sorry ... what happened to your hands?"
At once, the shadows scurried away as the boy moved his hands back behind his back, chin dipping even lower as he avoided her gaze.
For a long while, she thought he wouldn't answer, but finally, "I burned them."
She blinked again, taking a deep breath through her nose against the growing dizziness.
There was no way.
This was a coincidence. It had to be.
"What is your name?"
The boy looked at her as though contemplating whether it was safe to tell her, and when he spoke his name, it felt as though the very ground gave in beneath her feet.
"Azriel."
-
She'd touched the crystal. All she'd done was touch the crystal—there was no way she'd somehow travelled back in time.
Over 500 years back in time.
It explained why that Illyrian had never heard of a shadowsinger. Why he did not know her. Why the tent was gone.
Somehow, she’d fallen out of her time.
Her breathing quickened then. Because what if this was permanent? What if the crystal only worked once, or only worked to send you back in time, not forward? What if she'd be forever stuck in this reality?
What if the only way she’d ever see her mate again was by watching his eight-year-old self grow into the man he’d become?
"Lady?"
She blinked at the boy before her, and her heart gave a painful twist. Those were Azriel's eyes looking at her with mild concern, Azriel's hands that had been burned by cruel brothers not long ago. She was looking at the tortured child version of her beloved mate, knowing everything that had already happened to him, everything that would happen to him before things finally got better, and her heart was breaking.
"Yes," she cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I was just ... thinking."
He watched her, observing, quiet.
"Did you want me to find your mate?"
"Oh ... no, that's okay. I just felt him tug on the bond, so he's fine." Curiosity entered his eyes at the mention of the mating bond, so she changed the subject before he could ask further questions. "Would you like me to take a look at your hands?" she asked with all the gentleness she could muster. "I'm a healer, you see. Maybe I can help."
He didn't say anything, but something within her face seemed to make her seem trustworthy enough and so after a long while, he hesitantly pulled his hands from behind his back.
"They're ugly," he spoke as though in warning as she began to unwrap the bandages.
Her brows twitched together. "Now, that's nonsense."
Beneath the bandages lay blistering, burned skin—raw flesh torn by flames and twisted into angry red welts.
"They're not ugly," she said quietly, her voice thick as she took gentle hold of his left wrist to steady his hand as she hovered her palm over his without touching the wounds. "They've just been through a lot. You're incredibly brave, you know?"
She met his eye briefly, and she saw then that a part of him wondered whether she knew the true cause of his injuries without him having told her about them.
Sending warm, healing light to glow from the palm of her hand, she focussed on mending his flesh, on soothing his pain and fixing what had been torn so viciously. When she was done, his skin still lay twisted by the scars she knew so well, but at least his open wounds had been healed.
She repeated the procedure with his other hand, and when she was done, she observed his expression.
Baby Azriel stared at his open palms before turning his hands to stare at their backs too, taking in the healed expanse of his injuries.
"Thank you," he finally said, curling his fingers into fists. "They don't hurt anymore."
And yet, she could tell that he still hated the way they looked. She could tell from his face, despite his best efforts to hide his grief behind a well-practiced mask. She could tell because she knew him.
Taking his hands in hers, she offered him a smile. "It'll take some time for you to learn to live with it, Azriel. But it's not impossible. Let your scars be a reminder of your bravery. Let them show all that you have survived."
He looked at her, nodding slowly.
As she held his gaze to properly convey her words, she suddenly realised something.
Of course.
Lifting her hands, she unclasped the locket Azriel had gifted her upon their mating ceremony, and suddenly everything seemed so ... clear.
Baby Azriel's eyes flickered to her hands as she offered him the cobalt blue locket on a chain. He seemed a bit unsure of what to do with it, and so Y/N offered him a smile.
"I want you to have it," she spoke gently. "It's been dipped in magic, bewitched to protect whoever carries it. It will keep you safe."
Baby Azriel hesitated, though she could see in his eyes what those words did to him. How much he longed for protection, for safety. "Won't you miss it?"
She looked at the locket with softening eyes, thumb brushing across the gem.
"Very much," she spoke quietly before lifting her gaze back to him. "But you need it more than I do. I am already protected—my mate protects me every day. I don't need it anymore." She lifted her hands to carefully drape the thin chain around Azriel's neck. "You deserve to be protected, Azriel. You deserved to be loved. Don’t ever forget that."
It was with those words that she slipped her hand into the pocket of her leathers to wrap around the smooth surface of the crystal.
-
Rhys' hut was bright with warm gleaming faelights, laughter and chatter droning from the inside as she approached. She wondered how much time had passed since her accidental excursion to the past.
She thought about knocking, but before she raised her knuckles, she peeked through the window by the door, and her heart promptly sank.
They were all there—Rhys, Cassian, Azriel—and they looked as they did in her time. Broad bodies lounged in cushioned armchairs, fighting leathers covering every inch of their bodies. But there was something different to them, something ... lighter.
Cassian's wings were missing the scars they'd sustained in Hybern, and Rhysand's eyes were brighter. They were missing the heavier undertone they'd taken on during Amarantha's reign. Azriel's fighting leathers were void of Siphons, as were Cassian's, and she could tell even from a distance that he still carried the locket beneath them—the thin silver chain peeking from his leathers on the back of his neck.
And then there was the small but important detail that all three Illyrians carried females on their laps that most certainly weren't their mates.
Cassian was tongue-deep in the throat of a beautiful Illyrian woman, his hands roaming the ample curves of her hips, fingers digging into her flesh to pull her closer while Rhys laughed at something the blonde girl on his lap whispered into his ear.
It was the sight of another's lips on Azriel's throat that had her blood boil with anger despite herself.
She knew this was the past. Knew that this was their youth, that he hadn't even met her yet. But that didn't change the fact that she didn't want to see him with someone else.
The female was Illyrian, too, but from the large gash in her right wing, Y/N could tell that she'd been clipped already. Her hair was as dark as that of most Illyrians, falling in luscious waves almost all the way down to her ass, and when Y/N watched scarred fingers tangle in the strands—scarred fingers she herself had healed—, she finally took a step away from the window.
There was no reason to torture herself, after all.
The bright side was that the crystal actually did allow for her to travel forward in time, though by her own calculations—assuming that the boys were somewhere in their mid to late twenties in this current timeframe—it only allowed jumps of some 15 to 20 years at a time, which promised a tedious process given that she'd still have to skip a little over 500 years to return to her own time.
"Can I help you?"
She spun around at the low voice coming from behind her, and swallowed thickly as she met a familiar pair of dark eyes.
Azriel stood looming before her, his face carefully neutral, his stance casual yet alert. He kept his wings folded neatly, shadows circling their claws.
"Oh, uhm," her eyes flickered to the side in search of an excuse. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I was just ... leaving."
Azriel's eyes flickered to her feet and as she followed his gaze, she spotted shadows gathering beneath her shoes, black puffs of night circling her shins, only visible due to the faelight streaming from the hut's windows.
"Do I know you?" Azriel asked.
When she lifted her head, she found his eyes already on her. She knew him well enough to spot the curiosity in his gaze, no matter how well he'd gotten in hiding his expression since she'd met his eight-year-old self. A mate could tell.
"I doubt it, I'm just visiting from Velaris," she said, smiling.
Azriel gave a hum, eyes flickering to his shadows by her feet again. "It's just that my shadows seem somehow drawn to you. They told me you were standing outside the door."
"Oh, well," she cleared her throat. "That's sweet of them."
This time, when Azriel looked her in the eyes, she felt exposed. Like he'd be able to tell if he were to look too closely. Like he'd be able to recognise the one his soul was tethered to, even if another 300 years would pass before they were destined to meet.
"What's your name?"
Y/N opened her mouth, not knowing what she would say, since she couldn't risk telling him her real name. But she didn't get far, as the door soon opened to flood the night with warm light and reveal the girl with the clipped wings, her lips pouty as she searched the darkness for Azriel.
When she spotted the two, her eyelids lowered considerably, lips curling seductively as she trailed her attention down Y/N's body. "You didn't mention we'd be getting more company, Az. Not that I'm complaining." She tilted her head and offered a smile, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth as she did so. "I'm Willa. Are you going to be joining us?"
"Oh," Y/N gasped, feeling her cheeks heat at Willa's implication. "Oh, no I ... I was just leaving, actually."
The Illyrian shrugged before turning to go back inside, though not without a few last words purred over her shoulder.
"Hurry up, Az. Otherwise Cass and Mel are going to be done before we even start."
Y/N cleared her throat as the door shut, once again dimming the light to a soft glow.
"I'm sorry for interrupting." She had to force the words from her mouth, bile rising in her throat at the thought of what would go down as soon as she left—what Azriel would do, and who he would be doing it with. "It was nice meeting you, Azriel."
Azriel's gaze lay heavy on her—heavy and assuring and so full of interest that part of her wanted to tug on the bond just to see what would happen.
"Likewise," Azriel said, eyes still on her as she turned to leave. "Though I'd be interested to hear how you know my name."
She froze at that. "I think Willa mentioned it."
Azriel tilted his head, eyes narrowing a mere fraction. "Willa called me Az."
"Well, I ... guessed the rest," Y/N said, lifting a shoulder as she carefully began walking backwards. "Like I said, it was nice meeting you."
Before she’d reached the line of trees that bordered on the camp, she shoved her hand into the pocket of her pants, and as her fingers closed around the cool crystal, she hoped that Azriel—whose gaze she could still feel boring into her back—would assume that she'd simply winnowed away.
-
The sun was bright in the sky this time around, and cautious optimism took a hold of Y/N as she once again neared Rhys’ cabin, the soothing weight of the crystal in her pocket.
The state in which she’d find Azriel and the others would determine whether she could truly only jump 20 years at a time. It would determine the effort it would take to return to her own time.
Like the last time, she could hear voices coming from the hut, though they weren’t inside.
It was just as Cassian and Azriel rounded the corner that she managed to jump behind a nearby tree. They looked older than they had last time. Some scars had appeared on both their wings, but with a slow sinking of her heart she noticed the locket dangling from Azriel’s neck.
Still too early then.
She was just about to shove her hand in her pocket to touch the crystal, done with this tedious business, when she heard the mention of her own name.
Looking up, she spotted Cassian now lounging on the stairs leading up to the cabin, rolled up mirth root lodged between his lips as he grinned up at Azriel, who stood with his arms crossed and his feet wide.
“What are you, twelve?” she heard her mate ask, his voice as low as ever, though there was a distinct note of amusement in his tone.
Cassian snickered, taking the mirth root from his lips for smoke to plume before his face. “What? Given that you’re so convinced she’ll turn out to be your mate, I’m just trying to make sure that you don’t have an eternity of sexual frustration ahead of you. Cauldron knows you’ve had enough to last you a lifetime.”
Azriel snorted. “Thanks, brother.”
Cassian grinned. “So?”
Even from her hiding place, Y/N could hear Azriel’s sigh. “So what?”
“So, are you sleeping with her?”
“I’m not talking about this with you.”
“Because you’re suddenly so shy about sex?”
“Because I don’t want her thinking I go around bragging about intimate details.”
The Lord of Bloodshed groaned, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “I didn’t ask you to draw a picture of the position. It’s a yes or no question.”
Silence settled for a moment, and Y/N watched Azriel’s shoulders growing tense, until—
“No.”
Cassian looked up at that. “No?”
From her position behind the tree, Y/N could only see Azriel’s side profile, but it was enough to see his jaw clench. “No, we haven’t had sex yet.”
Amusement flickered across Cassian’s face. “Well, it seems she might just be the only female in all of Prythian that can withstand your charm, brother.”
Azriel seemed to hesitate. An unusual picture.
“It’s just …” he stopped, clearing his throat as he watched his left foot dig the tip of his boot into the soft earth of the ground. “I’m worried she might be … disappointed.”
Y/N flinched as Cassian threw back his head and barked laughter into the skies.
“The shadowsinger,” Cassian chuckled. “Insecure about his sexual prowess. Who would have thought the day would come.”
“Well, it wasn’t important before,” Azriel snapped, to which Cassian lifted a brow. With a sigh, Az continued, “You know what I mean. I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and so I want it … I need it to be good for her.”
Y/N smiled to herself, well aware of how entirely unfounded Azriel’s worries would turn out to be. She’d never realised her mate had troubled himself with this.
Cassian took a deep breath through his nose. “Well, I’m gonna go ahead and say that—should you truly end up being mates—the bond will probably take care of it.” Face twisting into a grimace, he added, “And even if not, judging by the past 300 years that I’ve had the pleasure to share a bedroom wall with you, I doubt you have any reason to worry.”
Azriel clicked his tongue, an exasperated expression on his face, and before she could stop herself, Y/N snorted a laugh.
At once, Cassian and Azriel’s demeanour changed entirely. Rising to their full height, tension crept into their shoulders, eyes firmly locked on the little cluster of trees she was hiding in.
Her heart dropped as she watched them share a look, and when Azriel sent his shadows rushing for the treeline with only the slightest wave of his hand, she quickly buried her hand in her pocket.
-
This time, when she woke up, there was no headache. There was no dirty ground, but the soft panelled flooring of a makeshift Illyrian tent. There were warm palms cupping her cheeks, a voice calling her name.
“My love,” it said, a distinct note of worry shaking the words. “Please open your eyes.”
She did as he’d asked, and as soon as she met Azriel’s gaze she knew for a fact that she’d made it. She was back.
Before she could open her mouth, Azriel had already scooped her into a tight embrace, palm cupping the back of her head as he pressed her against his body, muttering a quiet thanks to the Cauldron into her hair repeatedly.
As she raised her gaze to look at Cassian and Rhys, she was met with all the more concern.
“By the Cauldron, you gave us a good fright there, sweetheart,” Cassian muttered, the usual ease missing from his tone.
“What happened?” She asked as Azriel loosened his arms to instead focus his attention on scanning her for any obvious injuries. When he did not find any, he took gentle hold of her hand.
“Can you get up?”
She gave a nod.
“What happened?” she asked again.
Cassian and Rhys exchanged a look.
“You vanished,” the High Lord said finally, and as though in reaction to his words, she felt Azriel’s grip tighten on her hand.
“You caught the stone and then you were gone,” Cassian added. “Good thing you’re back now—Az nearly tore down the camp.”
A crease appeared between her brows. “How long was I gone for?”
It was Azriel’s calm voice that spoke now, though she knew that he’d slipped back into his mask of composure. The bond told her of his true emotions—of his rapidly beating heart and the panic he’d endured.
“Three hours.”
She ran a palm down her face.
“Can you tell us where the crystal took you?” Rhys asked as he knelt down next to the crystal she must have dropped upon her arrival.
Y/N gave a gentle scoff. “You wouldn’t believe me if I did.”
It was then that she felt a featherlight touch on the side of her neck—Azriel’s fingers skimming the bare skin that an hour earlier had been adorned with the locket he’d gifted her upon their mating ceremony.
As she met his gaze, she could see the question sitting there, and when she lifted her hand to catch his own between her palms, she offered a soft smile.
“I gave it to someone who needed it more than I did,” she whispered so only he could hear. “He deserved to be protected. He deserved to be loved. And I didn’t want him to ever forget it.”
It took a short while for her words to settle in, but finally the crease between Azriel’s brows softened with realisation, and his eyes flickered to the scarred hand she held safe between hers.
“Of course,” she thought she heard him breathe as he shook his head in mesmerisation. “It was you.”
And when he lowered his lips to hers, she felt the bond glow brighter than the sun.
The last two weeks had been perhaps the most peaceful stretch of time for you and Colston in over a year. There were no classes or games, no presentations or combines, no obligations except the ones owed to each other.
April looked good on the Chicago suburbs. The grass on your lawn had started greening again, and you could see how much brighter the sky looked most days now that winter had loosened its grip. The sectional couch was still a new enough purchase that you hadn’t quite broken it in yet. It was still stiff in some places, still smelling faintly of the warehouse it had come from in others, but you stretched out on it anyway, letting the documentary sweep your attention away from your phone which remained set on the coffee table face-down.
Colston appeared just as you were settling into the rhythm of the first major event of the documentary. His shadow fell over you first, then his weight pressed the cushions down near your hip, lifting the mahogany-colored throw blanket from your body. You didn’t look up, but you did lift an arm, letting him tuck himself against your chest before you draped it over his shoulders. He exhaled heavily against your collarbone, nose brushing the curve of your neck as he nuzzled in with a muffled greeting you couldn’t sparse out beyond the habitual, “mama” nickname he always defaulted to.
He made another noise that sounded like a relieved sigh, something between a groan and a hum, and you finally glanced down at him. Colston had his eyes closed, his lashes dark against his cheekbones, his lips slightly parted against your skin. Your fingers found the hair at the nape of his neck, scratching lightly.
First, his lips moved in slow, warm presses along the dip between your collarbones, exhaling ever so slightly against your skin with each kiss. Your nails grazed his scalp just enough to draw a hum that mirrored your own when he lowered his kisses to the tops of your breasts, pulling at the neckline of the oversized t-shirt you wore with his index finger.
You said nothing, turning your attention back to the TV, letting your boyfriend continue doing whatever it was he wanted to do. Your attention shifted back to him from time to time, watching your manicured fingers drift through the chocolate brown strands of soft hair you’d grown so familiar with. You felt him lift your shirt, cool air flowing up your torso for a brief moment before Colston’s cheek found your skin again, pressing slow, lazy kisses to your ribs.
You couldn’t help the airy giggle that escaped you when he took in a long breath, filling his senses with the smell of you; both the floral, fruity scents you stacked onto your skin and the underlying natural odor that was distinctly yours. His lips parted against your ribcage, dragging upward with slow, wet kisses until he reached the swell of your breast, the short, spiky hairs on his chin scratching lightly against the tender skin just beneath.
He remained hidden and still under your shirt for a long while, breathing you in for nearly ten minutes. Two minutes in, you lifted your shirt from over his head, worried he might suffocate. The action presented the crown of his head to you, and you kissed it without hesitation, curling your fingers in his hair to dance over the strands once again. Every breath he took fluttered over your skin like a humid puff of summer wind.
It didn’t take you by surprise when he moved again, pressing open mouthed kisses to the underside swell of your right breast. Nor did it surprise you when he finally pressed a kiss to the nipple before wrapping his lips around it with a soft hum. You shifted slightly beneath him, not necessarily to encourage him further, but simply to allow him easier access. You knew him, knew that once he’d decided on a course of action, he wasn’t likely to stray from it.
Your attention splintered, your brain wanting to use more its power to focus on the buzz of pleasure radiating from your chest than the documentary. His tongue lapped at your nipple in slow circles, occasionally flicking the peak with just enough pressure to draw a soft gasp from you.
You arched slightly into his touch, your hips shifting unconsciously, thighs pressing together. Colston noticed, lifting away from your chest, letting his teeth ever so slightly scrape against the nipple before letting go to mirror the same treatment to the other.
You didn’t realize you’d stopped breathing until you exhaled sharply when he bit down just enough to make your pulse jump. His lips curved into a smirk against your skin, a silent acknowledgment of the way you shuddered under him. Your hands tightened in his hair, tugging just to hear the way his breath hitched in response. The documentary had long since lost your attention, the voices become a low, distant murmur in the background.
Inevitably, a whispered, “Fuck… I’m so wet,” slipped from your lips, barely audible over the TV. Colston didn’t gloat, just pressed a final kiss to your nipple before sliding his palm down the plane of your stomach, fingers hooking into the waistband of your cotton shorts. He tugged them down in one smooth motion, the fabric catching briefly around your thighs before you lifted your hips to help.
He hummed appreciatively when he found you bare, foregoing underwear—just as he preferred when you were home alone. His fingertips traced slow, teasing circles along your inner thigh, watching the way your breath stuttered when he ventured higher but didn’t quite touch where you wanted him. Your hips twitched impatiently, but Colston only chuckled against your skin, pressing a kiss to the very center of your sternum.
You arched when he finally dragged his fingers through your arousal, circling your clit with just enough pressure to make your toes curl. His breath was warm against your saliva-slicked skin as he worked you unhurriedly, like he had all the time in the world. Your thighs eased open when he dipped lower, teasing your entrance before sliding two fingers inside with a gentle groan.
“Shit...” The word slipped from Colston’s lips in a low, reverent rasp, his fingers curling inside you just the way he knew you loved, just holding the pressure there while his mouth returned to one of your nipples. Your hips rolled instinctively, chasing the delicious friction, your breath hitching at the warmth flooding over your chest.
His fingers withdrew from your pussy before you could glean any real amount of pleasuring friction. Your eyes met his, frustration and a pout marking your features, but you found no sympathy in his face.
“Uh uh. Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured, trying and failing not to smile at your misfortune.
“You always do this teasing shit no one asked for. Like you hate me,” you huffed, your brows knitted together but your fingers didn’t lift from his hair. Colston knew that contradiction well, your complaints even as you pressed into him, your legs parting wider without prompting. He lifted his head, poking out his bottom lip for a kiss you rolled your eyes before giving. The initial kiss was chaste but he chased it, grinning when you softened enough to let him deepen it.
You tasted like cherries and the shared tube of toothpaste sitting on your bathroom countertop, your breath hitching when his fingers circled your clit again. His fingertips caught on your folds with each pass, the wet drag of them obscene enough to make you shudder. Colston murmured something low against your lips, the syllables lost in the press of his mouth on yours, but you felt the vibrations of it and soon processed what he was whispering when he began to shift your positions.
Soon enough you found yourself on top of him, the shirt that once draped over your torso pulled over your head and dumped onto the floor. Colston’s hands slid up the curve of your waist, fingers pressing into the divots beneath your ribs before settling to cup your breasts with rough palms. You rolled your hips, grinding down on his thigh, the ridge of his quad muscle pressing deliciously against your clit. His groan reverberated against your sternum when you leaned forward, your hands threading through his hair to guide his mouth back to your chest.
You gasped when he took a nipple between his teeth again, the sharpness of it melting into pleasure as his tongue soothed the sting. His hands slid lower, gripping the flare of your hips to guide your movements, encouraging you to ride his thigh harder. Your breath came in short, uneven bursts, your thighs straining with the effort of keeping pace.
He pulled back from your chest, his left hand cupping your jaw between his long fingers. With his other hand he reached around, using the pads of his middle and ring fingers to rub at your entrance murmuring a low, “You know I always give you what you want, mama,” before slipping two fingers back inside you.
You gasped at the sudden fullness, your eyelids fluttering shut as Colston’s fingers buried deeper inside your plush walls. “Mmmmph… there, fuck, baby,” you sighed, your hips rolling forward instinctively, chasing the sweet friction of his fingers buried to the last knuckle.
His hand fell away from your jaw once he decided he’d watched your face twitch and contort enough, letting his palm slide down your body to rest on your lower back. The free hand wandered over your backside as he waited for you to give him the green light to move, squeezing softly enough to make you sigh against his lips.
You brushed your lips over his, feeling his exhale fan out from his nostrils and over your face. His fingers stayed still inside you, letting you adjust and tease yourself with shallow rolls of your hips.
He prided himself on his ability to feel you. He had studied your body enough to learn every minute contraction and relaxation and what they indicated about your body; what you needed, what you wanted, what you could handle. He felt your inner walls finally relax around him, then came the first easy, airy moan slipping through your lips when you unwittingly clenched around him.
He moved slowly at first, letting his fingers drag against your inner walls, watching your eyelids flutter and your lips part. “Mmm… I love gettin’ my hands on this pretty ass pussy,” he rumbled. “Stretchin’ so perfectly for me, mama.”
You licked at your drying lips, “Shit… fuck, fuck, baby, yes…”
You reached down, guiding the hand resting on your lower back up your torso until his thumb was within reach of your lips. You sucked it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the thumb. Your eyes cast downward, watching his fingers working between your thighs. Your hips rolled forward with every press against that sweet spot inside you. Colston groaned at the sight, his hips lifting involuntarily beneath you, the hard ridge of his cock straining against his sweatpants.
His thumb slipped from your lips with a soft pop, and before he could blink you shifted his hand to your own throat, pressing his palm flush against the column of it. He groaned at the feeling of the vibrations of your moans beneath his fingertips. His fingers inside you curled harder, dragging against that spot that made your thighs quake. Your head tipped back as a punched-out moan escaped you, accompanied with a full body shiver.
“That’s my baby,” Colston hummed, his voice rough. He watched the way your throat worked around another moan, felt the flutter of your pulse beneath his palm. “Uh huh… I love that shit.”
His eyes lit up at the sensation of you swallowing a shallow breath. He watched your gaze lose focus before your pupils finally disappeared behind your fluttered lids. A whine cut through your lips as you clenched around his fingers, your hips stuttering forward, chasing the pressure.
“Don’t rush, I got you, mama. You can cum whenever you wanna,” Colston breathed.
You could’ve throttled him for this overwhelming sense of smugness that radiated from his skin and warmed yours. And you would have if your limbs weren’t liquid and your brain wasn’t misfiring between pleasure and frustration. You were so close, teetering on that knife’s edge, and he knew it; even had the audacity to slow his fingers just to watch you squirm.
Your nails dug into his wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to make your point. “Colston,” you warned, voice breaking around his name.
He laughed, breath hot against your collarbone, but mercifully obeyed. His fingers twisted deeper, curling just so, and your focus on his face faded.
You whispered a harsh, "Fuck—" before your hips jerked forward, your thighs clamping around his wrist as pleasure ripped through you in hot, pulsing waves. Colston didn’t let up, his fingers working you through it until you were squirming away with a breathless whine, feeling oversensitive.
Only then did he withdraw, lifting his glistening fingers to his lips with a satisfied hum. You slumped forward with a quiet whimper, tucking your chin against his shoulder as you tried to catch your breath. Colston continued to lick his fingers clean, his free arm wrapping around your waist to hold you steady.
“I love you,” he sighed against your damp skin, pressing a kiss to the pointed joint of your shoulder and delivering a soft tap, and subsequent rub to your ass, when you shivered at the contact.
You laughed lightly, pulling back from his shoulder to kiss the tip of his nose. “You want some head?”
His forehead wrinkled, brows drawing together as he felt you scatter kisses across his face, dusting over the various moles that dotted his skin. “I just said ‘I love you.’”
“I heard you,” you stifled a laugh, playing with his bottom lip. “Doesn’t mean I can’t ask if you want your dick sucked.”
Colston groaned, tilting his head back against the couch cushion, his hips lifting unconsciously. “Just say it back right quick.”
You grinned at his exasperation, your fingers trailing down his chest to hook into the waistband of his sweatpants. Your fingers pulled the fabric from his skin, smiling to yourself at the peek of soft, meticulously groomed, brown hair trailing beneath his navel.
“You need me to say ‘I love you’ before I suck your dick?” you ridiculed lovingly, your fingers creeping lower beneath the waistband of his sweatpants until you grazed the base of his length.
“Yes,” he rasped, sucking in a breath when you reached into his pants and wrapped your fingers around his dick. His skin was already hot beneath your palm. You squeezed experimentally, reveling in the way his breathing paused.
“I can’t be… romanced first?” he questioned. “Give my heart some action too. Damn.”
You rolled your eyes, but the corner of your mouth twitched as you leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips without lingering for too long. You slid off the couch, landing on your knees between his thighs, your fingers still wrapped around him as you pulled his sweatpants down just enough to free his dick.
“Let me give this dick some action first.”
The first touch of your lips to the flushed head of his length drew a sharp inhale from Colston. You kissed the underside of his tip, swirling your tongue briefly over the slit where he was already leaking, tasting salt and musk. You hummed, glancing up through your lashes to watch his throat bob as he swallowed hard.
You dragged your tongue along his shaft from base to tip, pausing at the top to mouth at the head with slow, teasing kitten licks. His breath shuddered out of him in a rough exhale, hips lifting off the couch involuntarily. You smirked up at him before fully taking him into your mouth slowly, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked him down in one smooth, continuous motion.
Colston cursed under his breath, one hand draped over the back of the couch while the other cradled the back of your head. You pulled back slowly, dragging your lips along his length until only the tip remained enveloped, then swallowed him down again with a low hum that vibrated against his skin.
The sounds of you working him with your mouth permeated, louder it seemed, when he squeezed his eyes shut. Gradually, you took him deeper, throat relaxing around the intrusion, your nose brushing the coarse hair at the base of his length.
A groan rumbled from his chest. “Fuck… baby…”
The words dissolved into a ragged exhale as your nails dug lightly into his thighs, your fingers flexing against the muscle there while you worked him with your mouth. You pulled back just enough to swirl your tongue around the head, your lips glossy and parted around him before sinking down again, deeper this time, until the muscles in your throat tensed. You pulled off, stifling a light cough behind your fist.
Your saliva coated his entire length and began to spread over his balls as you repositioned, pressing your tongue flat against the underside of his shaft while one hand worked the rest of him in slow strokes.
“Damn... too good at this,” he murmured, voice thick. His hips rose slightly off the couch cushion, just following the pull of your mouth like he couldn’t help it. You hummed around him in response, the vibration drawing another muttered curse from his lips.
Your head lowered further, giving each of his balls attention with the suctioning of your lips; gentle and experimental at first, then firm enough to make his thighs tense. Colston exhaled sharply through his nose, his fingers tightening in your hair as you traced the seam behind them with the tip of your tongue. “Fuck, baby—that’s—ah—” His words fragmented when you returned to his length, taking him back into your mouth with a heightened intention to unravel him.
The wet heat of your mouth contrasted with the occasional scrape of your teeth giving him just enough pressure to tease without pain. “Chill on me,” he rasped, thumb brushing your cheekbone. “Tryna take my soul.”
You responded with a lift of your eyes. If it wasn’t clear from the way in which you were drawing every action out—slowing your pace just when his hips would lift, or flattening your tongue against the underside of his dick before letting him slip from your lips—the way you looked at him now, dark lashes lifted over darker eyes, would have communicated it well enough.
You let your lips wrap around him again, just the tip. The hand not wrapped around his base lifted, fingers trailing up the inside of his thigh, nails scraping lightly. You watched the muscles in his abdomen twitch, tensing as he muttered a strangled curse under his breath.
It happened suddenly with his voice breaking, body shuddering, and tension snapping all at once. “Holy shit… baby—” Colston’s hand clamped in your hair just as you pulled off to stroke him, presenting your tongue to catch every pulse of his release. His hips jerked against your grip, fingers flexing against your scalp in silent warning, but you didn’t pull back, just hummed gently, coaxing him through the release until he sagged against the couch with a groan.
You caught the last of his cum, swiping the excess from your chin and the corners of your mouth, giggling at the dazed look on his face.
“Dada man feelin’ real good, hmmm?” you teased, crawling up his body before he could answer.
He peeked at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his breath still uneven as you straddled his lap. His hands found your waist, fingers pressing into the soft skin there; half because he wanted to touch you, half because he was still trying to ground himself.
He chose not to speak right away, choosing instead to brush his palms up and down the sides of your waist. He felt you hold his face in your two hands. You gave him a few chaste pecks, grinning when his lips chased yours weakly.
The heat of your thighs pressed against his hips, the weight of you grounding him even as his head swam.
You laughed, low and sweet, tracing the shell of his ear with your fingertip. “I love you.”
Colston blinked slowly, still catching his breath, before his mouth curved into that lazy, satisfied grin you knew all too well. “Took you long enough,” he rolled his eyes, dimples peeking through the feigned annoyance.
You snorted, pressing your thumbs into his dimples like you always did when he preened, as if wanting to physically erase his smugness. “Oh, please. You were two seconds from crying just now, don’t act all high and mighty.”
Colston's hands slid up your sides, fingers spreading wide as if trying to map every inch of skin between your ribs and hips. “I’ll cry behind some crazy head. I don’t care who knows.”
“Mmhmm,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss a slow line up his neck, savoring the salt on his skin. “And who gives you head good enough to make you cry?”
Colston hummed, tilting his head back to give your better access. “Some crazy lil’ girl, I think.”
You nipped at his earlobe. “She handles that, I heard.”
Colston’s chuckle was still breathless when you shifted in his lap, your thighs squeezing his hips as you leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His hands slid around to your lower back. “Handles it too good,” he murmured against your lips. “Might need to start askin’ questions.”
Summary: After several years of marriage, the mating bond snapped between you and Azriel. The shadowsinger can't fathom why you still call him your husband in the presence of a destined connection.
Tags: fluff, smitten Azriel, mates, established marriage, non-graphic mention of sex, some of my issues with mating bonds and philosophies about love lol
Word count: 2300
_____
“And this is my husband, Azriel,” you were saying as he approached you and the Dawn Court legislator, drinks in both hands.
Azriel offered you a stemmed glass of faerie wine with as much of a smile as he wore in political appearances such as this. He preferred to cling to the facade of the stone-cold spymaster, but it was your job to make friends– friends in high places that would stand by the Night Court in the future.
But even though he maintained a surly exterior, it didn’t stop him from resting a hand on your low back. You were both on official Night Court business, but he was still your mate, and it was expected for mates to be public about their affection. That, and touching you made him feel bubbly inside like the wine he was sipping.
He exchanged brief introductions with the Dawn Court legislator and then left the rest of the talking to you. The wooing, Azriel called it, because he was quite sure that it was your smile and charm that turned enemies to allies and allies into friends. Not that your prowess as an ambassador didn’t help, but Azriel knew firsthand the effect of your pretty smile, your beautiful laughter.
Even as he stood beside you, running a scarred thumb up and down your exposed midriff, your laughter still sent pleasant warmth through him, smoothing his rough edges.
Since the mating bond had clicked into place, it had become more difficult than ever for him to appear dauntingly enigmatic when you brought out a side of him that smiled without realizing, that laughed easily when you whispered in his ear, that wanted to whisper back sweet things or dirty promises he had every intention of keeping.
It took all of his restraint to keep his shadows leashed to his wings, lest they scamper to your body as they did in private.
Though it was well known that you were mated, he liked keeping his romantic life separate from his work. Sometimes the line blurred, since you were a part of both, hence his fingers splayed on your skin.
Across the sparkling parlour, Rhys was displaying far more affection with Feyre, pressing kisses to her cheeks and lips every so often. Azriel didn’t think he’d ever be comfortable sharing that much of your relationship with other people. In the presence of others, he kept his touches to a hand on your knee, the brush of his knuckles over yours, or, when you decided to sit in his lap rather than the empty chair beside him, he would hold you steady.
But in private, he worshipped. His love for you was an artistic pursuit, a craft that he would refine until the day he died. Every kiss was a stroke of a brush, every caress a splash of color.
Azriel had zoned out for a bit because the next thing he knew, the Dawn Court legislator was mingling across the room, and you were smiling up at him, melting his heart.
“That’ll be great, won’t it?” You asked.
He didn’t know what you were talking about– something about Dawn's foreign policy, maybe– but he nodded, one corner of his lip curving up. He opened his mouth to tell you how beautiful you looked dressed in gold, a halo about you like the corona of the sun, but you were already addressing Thesan’s mate, the Peregryn general. Azriel should probably have known his name, but couldn’t seem to remember, not when you were all that he could seem to think about these days.
The mating bond was still so shiny and new in his chest, only a month old. It made tangible your delicate luminosity, magnified it into a powerful beam, and cast your light on his life.
His sun, his partner, and now his mate. How could he be expected to think about anything other than the person that lived in his very soul?
Then your eyes were on him, your hand brushing his shoulder as you smiled at the Peregryn. “I don’t believe you’ve officially been introduced to my husband, Azriel, Night Court Intelligence.”
Azriel greeted Thesan’s lover– you must have said the Peregryn general’s name twice by now, but it had completely bypassed his brain– and exchanged a few polite words with the male who still seemed rather wary of the Night Court’s reputation, even after going to war together.
It was nothing that a few of your sweet smiles and adorable jokes couldn’t remedy. You soon had the Dawn male smiling into his wine.
But Azriel was still stuck on the word you had chosen to introduce him with. He realized that you had used the same word when you introduced him to the legislator from earlier.
Husband.
He didn’t know why it was bothering him when hearing that word from your mouth had always elated him. He had loved being your husband… but now he was your mate. That was how he referred to you in introductions and as a term of endearment.
He raked through his memories as the conversation rippled around him. Yes, now he was quite sure that he’d never heard you refer to him as your mate, except when directly acknowledging the bond. It really shouldn’t have bothered him. Of course, you felt it as intensely as he did... didn't you?
Maybe you used that term sparingly for the same reasons that he kept his affections to a minimum in public. But then again, you didn’t call him your mate in private either.
It could be a force of habit, he told himself. You’d been calling him your husband for years before the bond snapped. Sure, he never made a mistake, couldn’t with the constant reminder in his chest, but maybe it was ingrained in your mind.
Azriel chewed on it as the party burned into the early hours of the morning. While you built and maintained relationships, he tried to focus on what he was best at: sifting truth from lies. But there wasn’t much valuable information shared at a social event like this one, where the focus was camaraderie and cooperation. His shadows had little of value to report, except what they told him about you toying with your wedding band, a habit that you’d had for years. It was something you did when you were socially drained, when it became harder to have vibrant conversations with stranger after stranger, and your hands fell listlessly at your sides with fatigue.
“Time to go” is what it meant to Azriel. He excused himself from Cassian’s side, where he’d ended up after a few hours, snaking through the crowd until he made it to you. His knuckles brushed your arm, even the smallest contact sending a zing through his body.
Your smile was still bright, but he could see the limit approaching behind your seemingly endless hospitality.
“Shall we?” Azriel asked, arm out for you to take.
Relief washed over your face, and you nodded, taking his offered arm and letting him lead you through the beautiful Dawn palace to your guest lodgings. It was a wordless walk; you had used your breath making political friends, and Azriel savored the quiet times when you just existed together.
In that silence, he sank into the bond, feeling you without touching, knowing you without asking, and loving you without restraint.
And when you made it to your quarters, Azriel worshipped. He took his time in removing your jewelry piece by delicate piece and unclasping your intricate clothes as though he’d designed them. Then he loved your body as though it were his masterpiece in the making.
Only once he’d taken you to that dizzying place twice did he pull you snug against his chest, his chin resting on the top of your head.
Though he’d reached his own release, he couldn’t dissolve into the heady air as you did. There was still a nagging question in his mind. It was that damned word that kept getting lodged in his thoughts. Why did it bother him so much?
“Tell me,” you mumbled, half-consumed by sleep already. The afterglow of your lovemaking honeyed your voice. “I can hear you thinking.”
He was certain that you weren’t a daemati, but you still made him doubt. Somehow, you always knew when he was turning something over in his mind. His stoicism worked on everyone but you, apparently.
“It’s nothing,” he said, making your hair flutter with his breath.
You sighed. “You’re my husband, Azriel. I know when it’s something.”
There it was again. Husband.
His thumb explored the skin of your arm, as though that act would make him feel less exposed in front of you. Azriel was not an insecure male, not usually. But the thought that he might feel leagues more for you than you felt for him made his chest clench painfully.
“You still call me your husband,” he said– a question disguised like a curious observation.
He didn’t really know what he expected from you, but it wasn’t the soft “mhm” you answered with. You didn’t say anything after that, and he thought you might have fallen asleep, so he stayed silent, prepared to lie awake analyzing your little hum for hours.
Then you shifted so that you could look up at him. He could see you quite well, even in the darkness.
“Does it bother you?” You asked.
“No,” he lied. A mistake.
You lightly shoved his chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It doesn’t,” he lied again, then decided against digging a deeper hole. He took a deep breath, trying to configure his thoughts. “But we’re mates.”
“We are.”
He had thought he had a point, but now he wasn’t sure. Your sleepy reply was making him doubt why he was even upset. You were in his bed, in his arms, in his life– why did he care what you called him?
Azriel decided to let the issue rest. But he really should have known that you wouldn’t let it go until it was solved, even though you were teetering on sleep’s threshold.
“Would you rather me call you my mate, Az?” You asked, eyes closed.
Yes. No. He didn’t know. If you didn’t want to call him your mate, then it would be worse if you did.
“I was just curious,” he said, evading the question. “Do you dislike it when I call you my mate?”
“I love it,” you said, and everything he thought he knew was new to him again. “I love it because I know what you mean when you say it.”
Azriel didn’t know how to reply. He had no idea what you meant.
Your breathy laughter made his heart hiccup. “Az,” you purred, “You call me your mate because it means the most to you. I call you my husband because it means the most to me.”
The insecurity squeezing Azriel’s heart relaxed its grip at your words.
You nuzzled into the pillow. “Our marriage means more to me than the bond.”
“It does?” He asked.
You nodded, hair brushing his lips. “The Cauldron may have chosen you to be my mate, but I chose you to be my husband. Love– for me, anyhow– is always a choice, not something we fall into by accident.”
The silence that followed was one of perplexity. Azriel’s head was spinning. He’d never thought of it like that. In his mind, to be fated for one another was the highest form of love. But you believed that it was choice– conscious and constant. Love was something you did, rather than something that happened to you.
Azriel loved you because there was no other way to exist. He loved you because he had no choice.
You loved him because you did.
“When I call you my husband,” you continued, a mumbled chain of sleep-ridden words. “It’s because we chose each other as life partners because we believed in each other, not in a force outside of our control. And fated or not, I choose you over and over again.”
Little did you know that Azriel’s world was unraveling before his eyes. He hadn’t known love until Rhys and Cassian came into his life, and now he was realizing that, five centuries later, he’d never really understood it. Not as you did, so sure of yourself as you drifted off to sleep in his arms.
Did you know how profoundly you altered him as you lay there sleeping? He felt that, for the first time, he was really seeing you. For the first time, he truly knew what it was to be loved by you. And Cauldron– he didn’t have the words to describe how it felt. Your sun in his chest chased away the darkness, even in the shadowed corners of his mind.
He pressed his lips to your hair. You didn’t stir.
He couldn’t help loving you. Couldn’t even fathom the choice to do anything else. And he had thought it would destroy him if you didn’t feel the same.
And you didn’t– you had just told him that you didn’t, that for you, loving him was of your own free will, a decision you made over and over again.
And he was still breathing, still alive. Better now than ever. Your love was so vastly different than his, but not any less powerful, any less consuming. It was unique, like you, and magnificent.
Whether or not he understood it, Azriel wouldn't take your love for granted for a single moment.
He was your choice.
You were his destiny.
His forehead dipped to yours. He couldn’t wait for the next time you called him your husband.
Fifty years of silence. Fifty years locked behind iron and fear. When Azriel — the Shadowsinger of the Night Court — lands on your forgotten shore, the world shifts. You were a secret buried by blood and magic, but he looks at you as if you were something worth saving. In his arms, you remember what it means to breathe. In his shadow, something ancient inside you begins to stir — a darkness that knows his name.
After the Silence / 14 chapters / Finished
After feeling the faint tug of a mating bond between you and Azriel, you panic and leave the Night Court without a word, refusing to risk trapping him in something he might not feel. Decades later you return to Velaris and step into the House of Wind to find the world has moved on without you—and Azriel looks like he has, too.
Carved from the Same Edge / 10 chapters / Finished
When the Night Court’s spymaster meets his match, the shadows themselves start to misbehave. You’re a lethal shadowsinger with feral, wild-hearted shadows and a mouth too sharp for your own good. Azriel’s shadows are calm, obedient… until you arrive in Velaris on a long-term assignment and his control starts to crack. Forced proximity. Relentless banter. A threat outside the borders. And one spymaster who can’t decide if he wants to throttle you or kiss you.
What the Shadows Want / 7 chapters / Finished
When a political mission pulls you into dangerous territory, Azriel finds himself unable to keep the careful distance he’s maintained for years. He watches too closely, lingers too long, tries to protect without ever crossing the line — until the line starts to blur, and you finally lose it.
Truths That Don't Speak / Finished / 20 chapters
Azriel returns from a long mission to find you in the House of Wind—as if you’ve always belonged there. Your power allows you to sense emotions and detect truth, but with Azriel, everything goes quiet.
He’s unreadable. It’s unsettling, and strangely refreshing. You’re loud, sassy, and painfully observant; he’s reserved, restrained, and made of shadows.
Azriel is absolutely terrified of you—and of how easily you fit into his home. He doesn’t know who you are or why you’re here, and that uncertainty unsettles him.
But one thing is clear: you’re a mystery he’s already determined to unravel.Yet beneath the banter and unease, you begin to realize that you share far more than either of you expected.
The Day The Spymaster Broke / Finished
You were never meant to be theirs.But they kept you anyway.Raised by the Night Court. Secretly loved by the Shadowsinger. Bound to a darkness older than Prythian itself. When the gate opens and the world begins to fall, you make the ultimate sacrifice — stepping into oblivion to save Velaris.But the darkness was never meant to destroy the city.It was meant to bring you home.
Unraveling the Shadowsinger / Finished / 18 chapters
Solstice morning turns flour-dusted and dangerous when Azriel finds you in his shirt—and by nightfall, the River House reminds you what family truly feels like.
- Not a Damsel in Distress : Action, protective Az, reckless intimacy
Part 1 / Part 2
Reader goes solo on a mission she shouldn’t have. Azriel finds her before she can make it worse. Even with enemies watching, they can’t keep their hands off each other. Fire and shadows turning danger into background noise.
- What Settles between Us : soft angst / hurt comfort
Decades into a quiet, loving bond, you and Azriel have settled into something safe—routine, familiar, unquestioned. But when his missions stretch longer and his presence grows thinner, the silence between you starts to ache. Watching others be chosen loudly forces you to confront what’s been missing. Sometimes love doesn’t disappear—it just needs to be seen again.
- Blinfolded : banter / mates
Part 1 / Part 2
Azriel has been watching you train for weeks, and when he finally steps into the ring, things get a lot more intense.
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