Summary: In the silent embrace of the night, Azriel found in Y/N the comfort he never knew he needed.
Warning: Fluffy comfort, I think that's it.
Word count: 1120
Notes: I believe many creators have written similar pieces, so this may not be a new concept. Feel free to leave your comments, suggestions; everything is welcome as long as it's with the intention of teaching and with respect.
English is not my native language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammar issues.
Original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my work.
I appreciate any comments, reblogs, and likes I receive.
Happy reading!
Master list
The night in Velaris always had something special, but this one, in particular, felt magical. The gentle murmur of the Sidra River, the mild air filled with the scent of night-blooming flowers, and the clear sky full of stars that seemed to shine only for those willing to observe them closely.
Azriel was flying back to the House of Wind. He had had one of those long days, the kind where the exhaustion wasn’t just physical but emotional too. Azriel had spent hours training the Illyrians, dealing with disputes, and making sure everything ran smoothly in the Night Court.
Y/N had seen him enter, his posture stiff, and the shadows around him more restless than usual. Since they had begun spending more time together, she had learned to read him, to notice when he was tired or when something bothered him, even if he never said it. That night, however, something inside her told her that Azriel needed more than just company; he needed someone to care for him for once.
Without a word, Y/N followed him to the sitting room where Azriel usually sat after his missions or training, right next to the large window that offered a panoramic view of the city. He was there, staring out at the horizon, the stars reflecting in his golden eyes, but without his usual spark.
With a soft smile, Y/N entered and walked up to him. She sat beside him in silence, respecting his need for quiet. She didn’t need to ask what was wrong; she knew him well enough to know he would speak if he wanted to.
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she suddenly got up and said, "I’ll be back in a moment."
Azriel watched her leave the room without asking where she was going. In his mind, the shadows kept whispering, but there was something about Y/N’s presence that calmed them slightly. She always made him feel less alone, less lost.
A little while later, Y/N returned with a cup of hot tea in her hands and a couple of blankets. Without asking, she offered him the tea and then draped one of the blankets over his legs.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Azriel asked, his tone a mix of curiosity and amusement.
Y/N shrugged, smiling. "Taking care of you. You look exhausted."
Azriel took the cup of tea, surprised by how comforting such a simple gesture could be. No one usually took care of him like that. He was always the one looking out for others, the one protecting, the one watching over his loved ones from the shadows. But with Y/N... she made him feel like someone worthy of being cared for.
Y/N sat back down beside him, wrapping herself in a blanket, and gently snuggled up against him. At first, Azriel tensed reflexively, but then he relaxed when she intertwined her fingers with his, softly caressing his scarred hand. Though he hated the scars for the horrible memories they brought him, Y/N didn’t feel the same. To her, they were part of his story.
The touch was so light, so intimate, that it surprised him how much it soothed him.
"Do you feel better?" she whispered, without looking directly at him, her focus on the nighttime view of Velaris.
Azriel gently squeezed her hand in response. "Yes... much better," he answered softly.
The peace he had been searching for all day, the calm he so longed for, he found there, in that moment, sitting next to Y/N, with her hand in his and her warmth comforting him.
"You know," Y/N continued in a low voice, "you don’t have to carry the weight of the world on your own. You can rest, lean on someone every now and then."
Azriel remained silent for a moment, his thoughts deep. Y/N’s words resonated with him in a way that few things ever did. He was so used to being the shield for everyone else, to protect and care, that he rarely allowed himself to be vulnerable, even for a moment.
"Thank you," he finally whispered, his voice full of sincerity. "For this. For... taking care of me."
Y/N lifted her head to look at him, her smile soft and understanding. "I’ll always do it, Az. Anytime you need it," she told him, a promise between them.
Azriel turned to her, his eyes meeting hers, and in that moment, something inside him broke, in the most beautiful way possible. He leaned in, pressing his forehead against Y/N’s, closing his eyes as he breathed deeply, letting her closeness envelop him completely.
They remained like that, together in the stillness, simply enjoying the peace they had found in each other. For Azriel, it was a reminder that it was okay to be vulnerable, that he didn’t always have to be strong—at least not with Y/N. And for her, it was a moment of tenderness, knowing that, although Azriel was a warrior in the shadows, in her arms he would always have a place to rest.
"Come," Y/N said softly, shifting a bit and pulling him down. "Let’s relax a little more."
Azriel let her guide him, leaning back into the cushions of the sofa as she nestled at his side, resting her head on his chest. His wings instinctively moved to wrap around them, creating a warm, protective barrier.
"I promise tomorrow will be better," Y/N whispered, her fingers gently playing with the dark strands of Azriel’s hair.
Azriel smiled for the first time all day, his hand softly caressing Y/N’s back. "With someone like you by my side, it will be."
Y/N kissed his cheek, and the spymaster blushed.
Under the blankets, under the night’s veil and the shelter of Azriel’s wings, they both found comfort in each other. A shared peace that didn’t need grand words or elaborate gestures—just a simple promise to always be there for one another.
*divider by @cafekitsune , thank you <33.
A/N: After an angst-filled Azriel x reader it's only fair to have a fluffy one. I hope you liked it and I'm sorry it was short, let me know what you think. Kisses, love you guys.
Story Summary: On your 145th birthday, your mate Azriel has a very special day planned for you. His only requirement of you is that you give up control and follow your instincts.
Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence, killing your husband, ddlg, allusions to sex, egregious usage of pet names
Words: ~7.4k (~8.9k total)
Author's Note: okay so it's finally here! I know, I know, it took me a lot longer than I'd planned to get it out, but it's also 3x the length I had thought it would be... so there's that lol. Think of this as my apology for loml + my tears ricochet, some cute sweet fluffy goodness with Az to make up for the heartbreak. Also, I'm not sure how much I like this piece, the concept was really fun it was just a bit difficult starting and getting the words to flow. I just know that I appreciate all of the pet names... I hope you all enjoy, and thank you for reading! Oh and there's a second part, since there's a text block limit on here, that will be up in a few minutes.
p.s. there may be a true second part to this, basically a smutty epilogue, if I feel like writing it later
18+ only pls
💙🤍💙🤍💙
Azriel had always tried and succeeded in making your birthdays special. He knew the way you were raised had ruined them for you, nothing but a count down to the day you would be sold off like cattle to a male, likely crueler than your parents.
And he had been. You had been married to a vile excuse for a fae, Marcus at the age of twenty. He beat you for every misstep you made, and in his view nearly everything you had done while together was one.
The food was never delicious enough, you weren’t beautiful enough for a male like him, you talk to other fae too often.
The final straw came when, five years into your arranged marriage, Marcus beat you half to death for not having given him an heir yet. That night, you vowed to yourself that the next day would be the last your husband drew breath.
You prepared him breakfast, even with the broken arm he had given you. Using the small packet of poisonous herbs you had bought when you were feeling brave a few months ago, you slipped some into the middle of his omelette.
And the rest was history.
You were free to live you life, though you had to put your minor healing powers to work to afford the basic necessities. But, you still had the home Marcus had owned, given that he had no living relatives, and it was enough for you.
You had lived your life for another hundred years, as peacefully as one could in the Court of Nightmares.
The first time you saw Azriel had been at a revel, one held for the High Lord’s birthday. Attendance had been mandatory, and as you rarely attended revels you dressed your very best, a black silk floor-length gown with a slit running all the way up your left leg and ending at the top of your thigh. It had thin straps to hold it on both shoulders, and you had never felt more beautiful. It was one of the few things you had saved up to buy, nearly working yourself ragged to do so, but it was worth it.
The way his eyes met your across the room once he entered was electric, and he had made your way over to you almost in an instant.
Your heels had made you four inches taller, but the moment you stood next to the Shadowsinger you felt as if you weren’t wearing them at all. His wings added extra height to him, and you felt so small in comparison. But he didn’t lean over you, attempting to use his height to intimidate you. Instead, he introduced himself.
“My name is Azriel. What is your name, please?”
“I know who you are, Shadowsinger.”
“If you know who I am, would it not be fair for me to know who you are?” Azriel countered. “I merely wish to know the name of my mate.”
Mate. The word struck through you, the bond snapping with such intensity you stumbled slightly in your heels. Azriel steadied you with a calm hand, and you internally scolded yourself.
One conversation and you’re acting like a fool.
“Y/N," you finally respond.
“Y/N,” Azriel said, testing your name out on his tongue. The sound sent instant butterflies into your stomach. “Would you care to join me somewhere more private?” You gave him a look of disdain, having hoped he would be different from the rest. “No no, nothing like that. I figure that the prying eyes and ears turned to hear our every word are something both of us would like to avoid.”
You thought about it for a moment. Truly, the male could have swept you away in an instant, whisking you away to Mother knows where. If he had ill intent, he most likely would have acted upon it already.
“I suppose another location could be nice,” you reply, holding a hand out for him to take. He took it in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.
Your heart fluttered, tugging lightly on the bond accidentally.
He winnowed the two of you away, and reappeared in a sitting room a moment later.
“I know that this is a shock to you, honestly it’s a shock to me as well,” Azriel started. “I never- I have not once believed that I deserve to be blessed with a mate, but I know that if you choose to pursue the bond, I will take care of you for as long as you allow. Even if you choose to reject the bond, if you would like I will provide you with a home of your own, anywhere you would like in the Night Court.”
Choose to reject- “What?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. A male- your mate- was offering to take care of you even if you reject the bond. That was… unheard of here.
“I want to take care of you, even if you have no part in my life. I would enjoy getting to know you if you are open to it, though.”
“I…” You hesitated. A mate was something out of your control. Already, you were acting on instinct instead of carefully planning each action. But… The Mother had judged you as equals, and if he was being truthful… “Make a bargain with me. Promise that you will allow me to leave you permanently and alive if I choose to.”
Azriel blinked at you twice before his face broke into a grin larger than you though possible for such a stoic male. “It’s a bargain, Y/N.”
A burning sensation sparked on your sternum, just below where your dress started. You pulled it back slightly, and saw a delicate moonflower wrapped in shadows. Pretty.
“Tell me about yourself?” Azriel asked lightly.
And you had.
The two of you had gone on a few dates before you even let him inside of your house, and another three months after that you let him stay the night for the first time.
You were slow to trust, even if Azriel had shown no signs of abusive behavior or anything similar. But over time he made his way into your heart, residing around the very middle of it. He was your world now, the one you would do anything for. Even if that made you weak, or soft, and he was the one person you allowed yourself to let your guard down around.
Over a year in, on your birthday, Azriel had spent the entire day with you, a rarity with his job and you occasionally being called away for healing duties. He had cooked you dinner while you watched, flitting around him and wanting to help, but Azriel wouldn’t let you.
The dinner had been wonderful, Azriel was truly gifted in the kitchen. After, Azriel had asked if you would live with him.
You said yes.
The two of you bought a house together in Velaris, a city that made the spark of hope that had ignited in your chest after meeting Azriel turn into a blazing fire. Here, the people were free. They could do whatever they wanted, be whoever they wanted, follow their dreams until the end.
Your dream, your wish that you kept so deeply buried inside of your heart, was to reclaim the softness that had been stolen from you, beaten from your bones.
Azriel had helped with that already, his love and affection melting away the hard exterior you had while in private with him. Five years after meeting, you had accepted the bond on his birthday with his favorite meal, and the frenzy that followed was absolute bliss.
This year was a bit different, Azriel’s sole mission on your birthday was to make your dream for yourself come true, twenty years into your mateship.
You were getting ready for bed, brushing your hair on the eve of your 145th birthday when Azriel called you into your shared bedroom.
“Yes, my love?” You asked as you entered, and then you saw it.
Azriel was holding a baby pink silk nightgown with lace along the hem and a bow on the middle of the collar, far cuter than anything you normally wore. And… you had seen it before. When you went shopping for a set of lingerie to surprise your mate, you had lingered in front of it, testing out the soft feeling of the fabric against your fingers, wishing you were brave enough to purchase something so cute, let alone wear it.
“I… How did you know?”
Redness spread onto Azriel’s cheeks as he confessed, “I might have had a few reports from my shadows about the things you seem to want, but do not buy for yourself. The one that sleeps on the back of your neck all day was particularly vocal about it. I wanted to surprise you, sweetheart, with a wonderful day tomorrow. But that starts tonight, with you wearing this to bed.” His smile was so sweet, your knees went weak. It was always so hard to resist him.
“What is tomorrow?”
“If you allow it, and place full trust in me, I have planned out a day for you to have to make no decisions, just following your instincts.” You wrinkled your nose, the idea of giving up all control was one you had rarely entertained in the dead of night, though it had always been to Azriel… “I know it sounds a bit daunting, but you know that I will never make you do anything that you do not want to, right?”
You nodded your head, that had always been the truth in your relationship. Everything was a mutual agreement, the both of you having issues with trust due to your childhoods.
“And we can drop at any time, and just have a nice day all to ourselves if you don’t enjoy it. All that I ask is that you give it a chance. Will you?”
Having that last piece of knowing it could end at any moment, that small bit of control to put your mind at ease.
“Yes,” you breathed, walking over to where he was standing, nightgown still in his hands.
“Thank you, babydoll. I promise, tomorrow will be wonderful. Now, let me undress you,” he said, setting the nightgown down on the bed and raising the hem of your shirt.
You let him, raising your arms to help. Next came your bra, gently undone with kisses placed on your neck as he did so. Then he unbuttoned your pants, shimmying them down your hips and tossing them away after you lifted your feet.
“Arms up, princess.” You blushed at the nickname, one reserved for tender moments in between the sheets, and did as he said. The nightgown slipped over your head, the fabric running down your body like water. The lace at the edges was soft, no hints of scratchiness to be found.
“You look beautiful, Y/N. So cute and sweet, and all for me,” Azriel whispered into your ear as he pulled you into a hug, your body softening against his after a few moments. A sigh slipped out of your lips, and Azriel kissed the crown of your head before pulling away slowly. “Did you need to do anything else before we go to bed?”
“No, I did everything already Az.”
“Let’s go to sleep then, lovely,” he said, and the two of you slipped beneath the sheets, your back to his chest and his arm wrapped tightly around your chest, one wing cocooning the two of you.
You fell into a peaceful sleep, the scent and feeling of your mate all you could ever think to wish for.
💙🤍💙🤍💙
The next morning you were awoken to soft kisses trailing down your neck, and the sensation of wet hair tickling you.
Az’s arm was still around you, and you wiggled in his hold, pressing your hips back against his.
“Now, now,” Az tutted, slight disapproval in his voice, and you stilled. “None of that right now, my sweet birthday princess. It’s time for your bath.”
“Mm I don’t want to get out of bed yet though, Az,” you whined. The sheets were far too comfortable, and the nightgown you were wearing was heaven against your skin, plus the hard press of your mate against your rear… no, you wanted to stay in bed.
“I promise the bath with be worth it, babydoll. Come on,” he said, getting out of the bed and taking you with him, carrying you into the bathroom and setting you on your feet.
The bath had already been drawn, a thick layer of bubbles covering the surface and a soothing lavender and chamomile scent wafting from it. Candles were set up along the edge, and a cup of coffee made just how you like was sitting on the counter.
You went to remove your new nightgown before Azriel’s hands stopped you.
“Let me do that, sweetheart.” He lifted the gown of your head and put it in the laundry basket. “Go ahead and get in, I’ll bring you your coffee.”
You did as he said, and the water was at the perfect temperature. Azriel handed you your coffee, and you took a large sip before looking at him.
“You aren’t going to join me?”
Azriel smiled and shook his head. “No, princess, this bath is all about you. I took one just before I woke you up. Drink your coffee, sweetness,” he said, tilting the cup toward your mouth again.
You do as he says again, even though your mind is fighting against it. He had asked that you try, so you would try as hard as you could to enjoy it.
And really, with your body warmed inside by coffee and outside by the luxurious bath Az had drawn for you, it wasn’t too hard to like it so far. Especially once Azriel started to wash your body with a soft cloth, taking is time to massage out any knots in your shoulders and arms. You always were tense with your healing work.
But all of that stress melted away with your mate’s gentle hands cleaning your skin.
When he finally pulled you out of the bath, he dried you off with a fluffy towel, pressing soft kisses all over you. You were feeling sleepy all over again, and just wanted to crawl back into bed with your mate.
“Alright, baby, we just need to get you dressed and then I’ll start breakfast.” Azriel went to the closet and pulled out a lavender wrap dress with short sleeves, another item that you had admired while shopping before. It was buttery soft as Azriel pulled it over your head, and it fell to right above your knees. You felt beautiful.
Azriel brought your slippers over to you, helping secure them on your feet.
“You look even better in this than I thought you would, sweetheart, though I don’t know how that’s possible.” You blush at his words, holding your arms out for a hug. He wrapped you in his arms, squeezing you tight against his chest. He’s so warm, and smells so good. His night chilled mist and cedar scent lulled you into a daze, your eyes glazed over when you met his after he pulled away from you slightly.
“Hello, gorgeous.”
“Hi,” you say back, your voice quiet.
“You doing good?” He asked as his hand caressed your face gently. You could only nod, so at peace and in the moment with your mate. A smile breaks across his face, and he tightened his arms around you once more before he disentangled himself from you.
“Come on babydoll, you can watch me make breakfast,” he said, leading you into the kitchen. He picked you up and set you on the island counter across from the stove.
He pulled out two wrapped packages, a carton of blueberries, and a bowl covered with a lid, then grabs three frying pans out of a cupboard.
"What's for breakfast?" You ask, resisting the urge to kick your feet as they hang in the air from your place on the island counter.
"Pancakes, sausages, bacon and some fruit, my love," Azriel replies, placing a kiss on your forehead when he turned to look at you.
"Do you need any help?" You ask out of habit.
While Azriel does take care of you as much as you allow, it has been hard kicking your old habits of always offering to help, any way to make your eventual suffering easier on you.
"No, sweetheart, I just need you to sit there and look adorable. Can you do that for me?" Azriel requests as he unwraps the sausages and puts them in a pan, then does the same with the bacon.
You sigh. Doing nothing? That's difficult. "I can try, Az."
"Good girl." Now that sent a thrill through you, and put a smile on your face. In the past couple of years you had noticed how much praise had begun effecting you, especially from the lips of your mate.
Azriel began making breakfast, pouring some of the batter he had made before waking you up into one of the pans. He places some blueberries onto it, being more careful with them than usual.
Az could feel your eyes on him, and turned to look at you. "Yes, love?"
"You're being careful with the blueberries," you state.
"Yes I am. I'm making smiley faces in the pancakes, sweetness."
You smile widened, the idea of it was so cute. "Smiley faces?"
"Mhm. I figured I would even make your breakfast cute, Y/N. After all, you're so cute you deserve to eat cute things too." His words sent blood to your cheeks, and your legs started kicking gently in the air.
Azriel returns to the stove, dutifully cooking until he hears you make to get off the counter. He whips around and holds your hips in place. "Where do you think you're going?"
"I... I wanted to help."
He kisses your lips, cheeks, then forehead. "You are too sweet, mate. I have everything under control, I promise. Just stay here and eat some blueberries, okay?" He hands the carton to you, and you pout slightly as you toss one in your mouth.
Azriel turns back to the stove, ready to get the food finished so he can pay more attention to you again.
In a few minutes, he's plated everything and brought it to the table, including a bowl of fruit from the fridge, before returning to you. He picked you up, carrying you over to the table as you giggle in his arms. Azriel gently sets you in your chair, then takes the seat next to you, scooting his chair over so that he's right next to you.
You go to pour some syrup on your pancakes- the smiley faces are pretty adorable- before a hand stops you, taking the bottle from your grasp. "Hey-"
"I told you, sweetheart, that you don't have to do anything today. That includes pouring your syrup and cutting your food." Az pours a generous amount on your pancakes, just the way you like them. He cuts a bite for you, and brings the fork to your mouth.
You look between the bite of food and Azriel, raising a brow.
"Open up, babygirl." His gentle tone coaxes you to give it a try, and you let him feed you the bit of pancake.
The blueberries are just the right amount of sweetness, the pancake itself thick and fluffy. Your eyes close for a moment as you chew, and when you open them Azriel has a soft smile on his face.
“Is it good?”
You nod your head. Azriel’s pancakes are one of your favorite foods he makes, always so delicious and fluffy.
“Good. Open wide,” he said as he brought another forkful to your mouth.
The pattern continued, Azriel taking bites off his own plate while you chewed yours. Before long you were full, turning your head away from the last bite of sausage Azriel was offering you.
“You full, babygirl?”
“Mhm, it was a lot of food, Azzie.” The nickname slipped out of your mouth without you even thinking, a sure sign you were relaxed and happy. “This is nice, so far,” you admitted.
Azriel’s face split into a grin, a rarity on his face, though it was becoming more and more common in your presence. “I knew you would like it, Y/N.” He kissed your forehead, then stood up from the table and offered you a hand. You take it and let him pull you into the bedroom. “Now, we are going to go shopping. But, with the weather, you need to wear a little more than you are now, cutie.”
He went to the dresser and pulled out a pair of white woolen tights, and turned back to you. “Sit down on the bed for me.” You do, and he goes to his knees in front of you. He takes off your slippers, then shimmies the tights up your legs until they’re all the way on your hips. “Perfect, sweetheart, you look so adorable in these. Do they feel warm enough to go out into the snow?”
“Yes, I think I will be warm enough. But I’m not sure I have a coat that will be good enough, though…”
Azriel chuckled. “I got one for you specifically for today, but I hope you will wear thicker coats more often. I hate to think of you walking in the cold in just a light jacket when I’m not here, sweetheart.” He pulled you up from the bed, leading you to the entryway closet that he opened, grabbing a puffy white coat that looked like it would go down to your mid-thigh.
You extended your arms without him prompting you, which made him smile again. He slipped the coat onto your arms, buttoning it up methodically. He then grabbed a pair of fluffy white snow boots which you slid your feet into, letting him lace them up for you. He pulled on his own coat, which he let you button up when you gave him a pouty look, then put on his own boots.
“Just a few more things, baby.” He wrapped a light pink knit scarf around your neck, making sure to cover as much skin as he could with it, leaving it loose in the front in case you felt like pulling it over the bottom of your face. Then he slipped matching mittens onto your hands, pressing a kiss to the top of each one beforehand. And the last was a matching hat with a pink puffball on the top. He fit it snuggly onto your head.
“You should wear a hat too, Azzie,” you point out. Especially if it was snowing, you didn’t want your mate to catch a cold. He merely smiled and shook his head at you, grabbing his own black hat and gloves from the closet.
“You worry about me so much, sweetie. I was always going to wear a hat, it’s been snowing since I woke up, after all.” He tapped your nose with his pointer finger, then leaned in for a kiss. It was so gentle and sweet, a perfect kiss if there ever was one. Then again, that was all of their kisses.
The two of you left your home, Azriel locking the door behind you. There was a thick layer of snow on the ground, most likely four of five inches deep.
Azriel grabbed your hand and began leading you down the street that would take the two of you to the Palace of Thread and Jewels.
The snow made the trek take longer than usual, but with your mate’s warm hand encasing yours, you didn’t mind at all. The two of you passed a few shops before you made it to your first destination, a bedding store that the two of you had come to in the past.
He brushed the snow off of your hat and shoulders, the pulled you into the shop.
“Now, sweetheart, I want you to remember to follow your instincts, pick out whatever you feel drawn to, okay?” You nodded your head; After all, the day so far had been amazingly comforting, the caring presence of your mate doing so much to relax you.
He let you wander around the shop, following closely behind you with his shadows swirling around your feet. You paused in front of a shelf of throw blankets, your eyes catching on a blush colored one.
Reaching a hand out, you went to brush your fingers on it before realizing they were still clad in mittens.
“Here, sweetness, let me take that for you,” Azriel said as he removed the mitten from your hand, leaving it free to brush against the blanket.
“It’s so soft,” you breathed. You turned your head over your shoulder to look at Azriel. “Can I get it?” Your voice was shy, still nervous about choosing cute things for yourself.
“Of course, princess. You can get anything you want, today and every day.” He picked the blanket up and held it in his arms. “Keep looking, there’s a lot more you haven’t seen yet.”
You followed his suggestion, walking further into the shop. Your eyes lock onto a sapphire blue pillow, fur all along the top side of it. Your ran your fingers through it- so silky smooth, you just needed to have it. “This too, please,” you whispered to Az, and he licked that up as well. The two of you looked through the rest of the shop, but nothing else caught your interest strongly enough to linger near it. Azriel gently led you with a hand on your back to the counter, placing both items on it.
“Did you find everything you needed?” The clerk asked as he wrote out the total on a receipt, crediting the purchase to your joint account.
“Yes we did, thank you,” Azriel replied, squeezing your hand in his.
“Were you needing a bag at all today?”
“No, thank you, we’ll be fine without one,” Azriel said, grabbing the pillow and blanket off the counter and leading you back to the entrance. Before you stepped outside, he handed the items off to his shadows, letting them carry the goods back to your home. He also pulled your mitten out of his pocket and slipped it back onto your hand.
You left the shop, heading further into the Palace. A few doors down, Azriel opened the door to a clothing store, ushering you inside.
Without prompting, you began to explore the store. This was one you had only looked into from the windows on the street, deeming the clothes, as lovely as they are, too feminine and cutesy for your daily life.
But once inside, you couldn’t help but pick out a decent number of outfits, taking them to into the dressing room to try on, Azriel waiting outside.
“Show me each one that you like, sweetie,” he requested, taking a seat in the chair meant specifically for this purpose.
You do, showing him a halter top and skirt set in a gorgeous blue that matched his siphons near perfectly. “This is perfect, love,” he praises you, pulling you by your hips to him. “It’s so sweet when you match me.”
You giggle softly, placing a kiss on his lips. “I definitely want this one.” You spin your hips, the skirt flaring out attractively from where it had rested at your mid-thigh. “It’s fun to move in,” you say, happiness in your voice.
“Good. Go try on some more, babygirl.”
A few outfits later, and you only found one other piece of clothing you wanted at the moment. It was a shade of pale pink with long, flowing sleeves that came down to the tops of your fingers. The hem reached yours knees, the skirt of the dress separated from the bodice by a matching ribbon at the waistline. The ribbon tied into a bow at the back, something that you would normally never wear out, let alone pick out to try on. But, Azriel had wanted you to try, and it was honestly easier than you had thought it would be to follow your instinctual taste.
You opened the curtain, and Azriel’s jaw dropped open- the only other time that had happened in public was your wedding and mateship ceremony.
“You look…” he paused, and your doubts started creeping in. “You look so, amazingly beautiful sweetheart, like a true angel brought to this earth to bless my life.” He stood up from his chair, scooping you into his arms and twirling you around, causing you to loose a giggle.
“I love this one, it’s so perfect. I feel like a princess,” you say after he sets you down, a wide smile on your face.
“I would have bought it anyways, just for the slightest chance you ever even thought of putting it on again.”
You change back into your clothes, letting Azriel redress you in your outerwear. He brings your two outfits to the front counter, once again handling the interaction for you as you leaned into his side. It was nice, not having to worry about any of the minutiae that went with shopping.
He pulls you out of the shop, a large bag in his hands which he keeps in his hand instead of sending off with his shadows. The two of you make your way over to the Rainbow slowly, enjoying the slow snowfall.
“In here, sweetheart,” Azriel says, guiding you into an art supply shop. “I have something specific in mind for you.”
“Oh? What is it Az?”
“Right here,” he says, extending a hand towards a set of ink pots, neatly packaged together in a wooden box with a glass lid.
“Inks?”
“Yes, I thought you could use something that’s easy, a bit mindless to do when you have free time. I asked Feyre what she thought about an ink set with a few books of drawings to fill in with color, and she thought it was the perfect idea for when you want to do something with your hands, but you don’t want to focus or think. It also comes with quills that are enchanted to return the ink to its pot when you hold it over the correct pot again, that way you won’t have a problem switching between colors… What do you think?”
You thought about it. While it did feel a bit… childish to color in pictures, the idea of having something simple to do when you’re tired but restless would be nice.
“That sounds nice, Az. Do they have books I can pick out here?”
“Yes, they do. They’re over in the back right corner, I’ll meet you over there in a second sweetheart.”
You wandered off into the direction he guided you, finding the selection of coloring books fairly quickly.
One instantly caught your eye, a collection of different creatures found in the Night Court, drawn in a cuter way than they appeared in person. You grabbed that one, and another of plants found in the solar courts.
Azriel came up behind you, placing a kiss on the top of your head, through your hat. You turn around to look at him and held the two books out for him to take, which he did.
“Did you want any others right now?”
“No, I think two will be enough for now. We can always come back again if I want more,” you said, and Azriel’s face softened before he kissed you.
“Alright, I’ll get this paid for and then we have one more stop before we’ll get some tea.”
In a few minutes, the two of you were leaving the shop, another bag in Azriel’s hands. The next shop he led you two was just two doors down from the art supply one, and it was a store you had considered going into every single time you had come to the Rainbow.
The windows were filled with various stuffed animals, plants, and fae. There was a whole half of a window dedicated to Illyrians, all fitted with differently colored siphons, though three you could tell were based off of your mate and his brothers.
That was one of the reasons you had always wanted to enter the shop, having a small miniature Azriel to keep you company while he’s away on long missions and the bond is quieted by the distance.
Azriel drags you inside, taking you over to the display holding the Illyrian plushies.
“Did you want one of me, babygirl?”
Color flushed your cheeks, and you bury your face in his chest before nodding.
“Did you want this small one? Or did you want a bigger one, one that’ll be enough to snuggle while I’m gone?”
“…Both?”
A chuckle vibrates through Azriel’s chest. “Both it is, baby. Go ahead and grab the small one, and look at the other options while I get the larger one ordered, okay?”
You grab the small miniature of your mate, then walk slowly towards the counter in the back of the store that Azriel was standing at. You pick up another plush, this one is your favorite flower, and join him at the counter.
“That will be ready in a week or so, Shadowsinger. We will send a note to your home, informing you when it is ready to be pick up. Ah, are these the other purchases?” The clerk asked, taking the plushies from your arms after you nod in confirmation. “Perfect, I will just grab you a bag, and you two are all set. Have a lovely rest of your day,” she says kindly, giving you a warm smile as she hands the bag to you.
Azriel guides you out of the store with a gentle hand on your lower back, and takes the bag from your hand once you’re back in the winter weather.
“How does tea sound to you, love?” Azriel asked, still leading you with that comforting hand.
“Something warm would be nice.”
He leads you to a tea shop that is decorated in soft pastels and smells heavenly, most likely because of the large case of baked goods that instantly drew your eyes. The two of you approach the counter, your eyes passing over every dessert in the case, lingering on a slice of strawberry cake and an adorable cookie, decorated with pink frosting and in the shape of a fox, it’s features drawn on in black frosting.
Azriel talks with the fae at the counter, but you aren’t listening, only looking between the slice of cake and the cookie, trying to decide between the two.
“Anything catching your eye, love?” Azriel asks softly into your ear, startling you from your thoughts.
“Oh, um…” you try to make a decision between the two, but your brain isn’t working fast enough.
“We can share a few, if you want more than one,” Az suggests gently, and when you point out the two items you want, he knows he found your dilemma.
“We’ll have a slice of strawberry cake and one of those pink fox cookies, please,” Azriel says, ordering for you and pressing a kiss to your head.
“But what about the tea-?”
“I already ordered some, love. Come on, let’s go take a seat.” Azriel pulls you to the side of store with a large fireplace, something you hadn’t even noticed when you walked in. He removes your coat, setting it on the back of a chair, then gently pushes you down onto it.
At this point, you feel like all you can do is follow his lead, so relaxed and in the moment that you don’t even want to make decisions.
Azriel sits in the seat next to yours, scooting as close as he can to you like he did with breakfast. He takes each mitten off of your hands, then removes your hat, smoothing out your hair after he sets it down.
Between the fire roaring in front of you and his wing covering your back, you were so warm and cozy you thought you might even be able to take a nap here.
“How are you doing, baby?” He asks lowly in your ear, wrapping an arm around you as well.
You rest your head on his shoulder and close your eyes, something you usually would never do in public. But Azriel is so warm, and smells so wonderful. And he’s here, keeping you safe. Even from prying eyes, with his massive wing blocking you from the windows leading to back to the streets of the Rainbow.
“Perfect,” you sigh, melting further into his shoulder.
The fae who took your order comes over with a tray, a teapot, two teacups, and two plates with the desserts you picked out on top of it. You keep your head where it is, too comfortable to move, even if it means showing that to someone you don’t know. She sets all of the items on the table, pouring out tea for the both of you. “Enjoy,” she says with a smile as she walks away.
The two of you sip your tea, a sweet floral blend that you can’t quite name, but you suppose that doesn’t matter too much. Azriel feeds you bites of cake and the cookie slowly, taking his own every now and then.
You nearly fall asleep on him once the desserts are finished, so content in this moment you don’t want to move.
“Alright, princess, let’s get home for a little bit before dinner.” You groan, pushing further into his shoulder. “We can snuggle when we get home, princess.” That gets you to move, the thought of being snuggled together under your new blanket on the couch at home. You turn to look at Azriel, who has a fond look on his face.
“What?”
“You’re so cute, love.” He kisses you, then stands up and grabs your coat off the back of your chair. Your face scrunches as you stand, not wanting to leave the warmth of the fireplace behind either, but you let Azriel redress you in your winter clothes, smiling when he kisses you again. He picks up your shopping bags, the guides you out of the tea room, thanking the fae before closing the door.
The two of you make your way back home slowly, the snow even thicker on the ground now that you had spent another hour indoors.
Near your home, along the Sidra, you spot an untouched patch of snow, and pause in your tracks.
“What is it, love?” Azriel asks you, stopping and looking at you, then glancing to where your eyes were locked on to. “Oh, did you want to make a snow Illyrian, princess?”
You bite your lip, then nod your head. Azriel merely secures your hat further down your head, and checks to make sure that your mittens are still covering your hands. “Go for it. By tomorrow, all of the snow will have been trampled, sweetheart.”
You hesitate for a moment, thinking about what other would think of you being so childish-
No. You were going with your instincts today. Besides, hardly anyone was out no about today, and there was no one on this side of the Sidra to stare at you. And Azriel was here, he would keep you safe. So you got down on the ground, repeatedly moving your arms and legs in their full range of motion.
You had always wanted to do this as a child, but even on the times you were let out of the mountain during the winter, you had been kept on a tight leash.
But now, with your mate? You were free to do whatever you wanted, as he had proved time and again throughout your relationship, and so many times today alone.
You stop once you feel you’ve made enough of an impression on the snow, and Azriel reaches a hand down to pull you up. You take it, then step back into what you believe to be the road and glance back at your creation.
It’s cute, though it looks nothing like Illyrian wings, but you suppose that doesn’t matter much.
“So cute Y/N. But let’s go now, I don’t want my sweet little mate to catch a cold.”
The two of you make your way back to your front door, and Azriel unlocks it before ushering you inside.
He strips you of your outerwear before taking his off, and you beeline for the couch in the living room, where your new blanket and pillow are already waiting for you.
“Before we snuggle, princess, you should change out of your dress,” Azriel suggests, and you groan in protest.
“But I want to snuggle right now,” you say impatiently.
“I know, love, but it will only take a moment to change you into something different sot that your dress doesn’t get too wrinkled before dinner.”
You sigh then follow him into the bedroom. He deposits the shopping bags onto the bed, pulling something out of the bag from the clothing store, one that you didn’t recognize.
It was a sleepwear set, a tank top with a bow resting in the middle of the neckline, a pair of shorts, and a set of knee high socks, all in a pale blue.
“When did you pick that out?”
“While you were trying on all of those clothes. I thought I would pick out some to give you as a surprise princess, after all, it is your birthday.”
You approach the bed and peek into the bag, and see that it is mostly full, pastel sets of underthings on every shade of the rainbow.
“Do you want to wear one of the sets now?”
You pull one out, a bralette and pair of panties in a pastel pink. “This one,” you say, presenting it to him.
He sets the clothes down on the bed, then strips you of the clothes you’re wearing. You let him redress you in the new clothes, loving how soft all of the fabrics are, Azriel having shopped for your comfort as well as a softer look than your usual attire.
“You look so adorable in those, baby,” Azriel says, his voice soft and sweet as he puts the socks on you, then your slippers.
“Thank you, Azzie. I really like these, they’re so cozy,” you say, running your hands along the tank top. “Can we cuddle now?”
“Yes, sweetheart. I do have a couple of reports I need to write first, it shouldn’t take more than an hour, but I’ll have you rest your head in my lap, if you would like.”
Your lip slides into a pout, you wanted to cuddle with him now.
“I know, sweetheart, but I’ll be quick about it, okay? And you can hug one of your new plushies while you wait for me to finish.”
“Fine…” you agree, fishing the plush that resembles Azriel out of the bag and clutch it to your chest while you follow Azriel back into the living room.
He sits down on the couch, patting his lap in invitation. You follow him, curling up on the couch and resting your head on his lap, sighing when he settles the soft, blush pink blanket over your body.
Papers rustle as Azriel’s shadows bring him what he needs to complete his work, but your eyes are already closed. One of Az’s hands begins to card through your hair slowly, and you let out a quiet purr at the sensation.
Within a few minutes, you had drifted off to Azriel’s soft touches, quiet breathing, and the gentle scratch of a quill on paper.
💙🤍💙🤍💙
You were woken by Azriel shifting beneath you, attempting to move to lay down underneath you without waking you. You open your eyes, turning your head to look at him.
“Hello, beautiful. I’m all done with my reports, now it’s time for us to snuggle together,” He says gently, moving your body so he’s now laying on his back, you pulled over him, your head resting on his chest. You kick your legs against the edge of the blanket, managing to get it over Azriel’s feet with a bit of work. You let out a deep breath once you have, sinking down into Azriel’s warm body.
You fall asleep again in a few minutes, now soothed by the sound of his heartbeat steadily thumping in your ear.
💙🤍💙🤍💙
Part 2
(tumblr's stupid 250 text block limit cut it off like a page and a half before it was done)
A/N: I have a request for some soft!dom Azriel in my inbox, so I’m kind of using this as a little bit of a practice run :)
Warnings: ass-eating and rimjob (m receiving), some light wing play, Az being a little mean in the beginning then softening out, slightly more sub!Az at the end
Word Count: 2,518
You can just imagine how good he would feel in your hands. And with the way he’s walking up the stairs, the plump and toned muscle of his ass wrapped up tight in leathers…
His wings twitch, shadows undulating and he stops at the top of the stairs, turning to look at you over his shoulder, two plates of food in his hands, leaving you to carry the drinks. “I can feel your eyes on me, you know,” he remarks with a raised brow. You flush, having been caught.
“Oops,” you say, grinning as you walk past him, “guess my gaze slipped.” He snorts, shadows pinching your ass as you strut by, making you yelp. You shoot him a glare over your shoulder, wishing you had a free hand to rub the sore skin. He gives you a panty-dropping grin, pissing you off just enough to have you kicking the door shut on him once you get in your bedroom.
He chuckles from the other side, shadows reopening the door while you set the glasses down. “Someone in a poor mood because she got caught eyeing me up?” He drawls, the smirk clear in his voice.
“I was not eyeing you up!” You snap, crossing your arms over your chest in a way that plumps your tits. His attention drops appreciatively, tongue flicking out to wet his lips. When his eyes return to yours, they’re a little darker, and you know he marks the roll of your throat.
“Please,” he purrs, setting the plates down on the bedside table. “You were looking at me like how Cassian looks at beef jerky.” His grin turns a little feral, “like you wanted to sink your teeth into me.” Heat blossoms across your lower body as he pin points the exact intent with which you had been staring at him.
Still, you raise your chin, looking down your nose at him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
————
You know you’ve been staring at his ass all day.
How could you not? It’s so plump, and—and round, and…you’re actually salivating.
He hasn’t been giving you a break, wearing those leathers first thing in the morning until the last thing at night. He has to know what it does to you. Which means, he’s teasing you. You grown inwardly, knowing how your mate can be when it comes to denying your wants for his own pleasure. He’s probably enjoying this opportunity to get back at you for that one time, and the objective side of your mind knows it’s well-deserved. Still.
“What’s going on in that dumb, little mind of yours, pet?”
Arousal slams into you, knees nearly buckling at the rough timbre of his voice. You manage to keep yourself strong, refusing to allow that whimper to slip from your lips. “Where did you sneak up from?” You ask, and even to your own ears, you sound a little hoarse. His lips twitch, pressing his front into your back as he tips your chin upward, so he can look down at you properly. His hand practically swallows your throat, just holding, lightly.
“I thought I’d check in on my wife,” he drawls, and you feel the male satisfaction as the title slips smoothly from his tongue. His wife. He’d been just as obnoxious when the two of you had accepted the mating bond, calling you nothing but his mate for months on end. “See how she’s faring with these miserable chores that her miserable husband is forcing her to do.” His eyes gleam as your spine arches almost imperceptibly, his hips pushing tighter into your rear.
“He is quite miserable, isn’t he?” You murmur back. “Always denying me my fun.”
Azriel’s hands settle at your waist, spinning you around so you’re attention is fully on him—not the cleaned laundry you were folding. “And what fun are you after, wife?” He asks, hands grazing up the sides of your body until he’s cupping your cheeks, squishing them ever so lightly.
Warmth flushes your skin, but you lean into him. Your eyes flutter shut, his heat seeping into you as you allow your fingers to brush his forearms, travelling to his biceps, settling on the muscled edge of his ribs before grazing down. Your hands move over his waist, snaking around his back, descending past his hips, and—
You yelp when shadows bat your hands away, so close to finally, finally feeling him. Your eyes fly open, immediately locking on his own heated gaze, colour dusting his cheeks, canines digging into his lower lip as he watches you with an intensity that makes your legs want to fall open.
“Has no one ever taught you manners, pet?” He asks, hand sliding down to your waist while the other tilts your jaw upwards. “Ask before you touch.”
“I need permission to touch what’s mine?” You retort quietly, hunger blazing in the pit of your belly. You can scent his own arousal grow in response, grip biting into your soft skin.
His grin turns feline as he drags you closer to him, mouth brushing over your own, forcing you up onto your tiptoes, “you want more than just to touch, though, don’t you?”
————
You’re so worn out. So tired, and so ready for bed.
Between Azriel’s teasing, your job, and your own damned mind, you think you might be going crazy. The few dreams you’ve managed to keep with waking from sleep have consisted mostly of fruits…phallic and…peachy. He would never let you live it down if he knew even your subconscious was goading you to him.
You think your knees might actually collapse when you make it to your shared bedroom.
He’s sprawled across the mattress, a thin sheet covering his lower half, wings splayed gorgeously over the bed. His hair’s slightly damp, curled at the ends from the shower, and his skin looks warm, and healthy, and delicious. Marvellously firm with muscle.
Azriel doesn’t look up from the book he’s reading as your bags drop to the floor and you make a soft sound of disbelief and hunger in the back of your throat. And then you’re clumsily stumbling forward, crawling onto the bed, easing yourself between his sheet-covered legs. Falling onto your front, pressing yourself onto his ass like it’s the comfiest pillow you’ve ever come across.
It’s only then he shifts, peering over his shoulder, and you can practically imagine the smug grin on his lovely mouth seeing you finally give in. You suppose it’s not like you made a secret of your desire, but still…
Arousal builds across your body, hunger finally breaking you as you lift, prowling up his figure. He looks like he’s about to get up, so you swing your legs over his hips, keeping him pinned to the mattress. You know he could easily lift you with him, but he settles back down, a sound like a purr rumbling from his chest.
“You’re being rather dominant, wife,” he drawls, shifting so he’s comfy. You snarl softly, fed up with his teasing, setting your hands between his shoulder blades, then running them lightly to the base of one of his wings. His muscles shift and contract beneath you, rippling as your fingers skate up lightly.
The tension seeps from him as you reach the dip beneath the first joint of the powerful limb. His skin heats and a quiet groan spills from his lips, needful and soft. It’s so rare something like this happens, but it seems he’s had a long day, too, and is ready to be taken care of. You couldn’t be more relieved. Dread to think how things would have gone if he’d had the energy or the will to deny you any longer. He seems to get off of refusing your pleasure, sometimes.
You shift closer, so you’re straddling his upper back, rolling your hips down languidly from time to time, basking in the slow build of warmth. Slow, because you both have the time to indulge. Slow, because you’re in no rush. Slow, because you have all the time in the world and right now, you want it with each other. To find pleasure in the other’s body.
Leaning forward, you attach your open mouth to the ridge of his wing and he shudders, a deep, drawn-out moan purring into the silence. The sound urges your hips to roll down a little harder, basking in the delicious and firm press of hot muscle beneath you. Teeth nip, and your fingers graze those spots you’ve had memorised since the first time he’d allowed you the pleasure of touching him like that. It’s rare enough he lets you look after him, rarer still he accepts direct comfort to his wings.
You’re not sure how comfortable he is with that vulnerability. You’re mated, married, and joined in every way that counts, but you’re not going to pretend that you share absolutely everything with one another. There are still times the two of you will just sit in silence, mentally recovering from whatever trials have gotten you down that day. Plenty of times where you’ll spend a few hours apart, just to get out of the house. And it’s wonderful that way. To be comfortable enough to trust and know someone will to come back to you even after you’ve put a line in the sand…
Your tongue flicks out, dragging up the dip of bone, grazing over the powerful muscle that flexes beneath your tongue. His breath catches softly, and you pull away. Groans roughly as he falls away from the edge, but doesn’t fight for it, content to enjoy the edge.
Pulling back, you brush your thumb once more over the sensitive skin of his wing, and a sharp breath exhales from his lips. You shuffle down his body, pushing away the sheets as you go, leaving him entirely bare for you. It takes every ounce of willpower he’s instilled in you over the years to keep from pushing his legs apart right then and there and moving your mouth to your pleasure—hopefully his, too.
Instead, you tap his hip twice, lightly, then grip his side, urging him to roll over. He sighs, but turns obediently, knowing it will benefit him in the long run, wings pulling in tight as he switches onto his back. Then your mouth is opening over him, tongue flicking over the bead of moisture nestled in the slit of his tip.
Azriel moans softly, back arching as colour dusts his cheeks, fingers gently threading through your hair, raising his hips. You press a kiss to his tip, licking up the underside of him, watching as his eyes flutter closed and those quiet sounds of pleasure start becoming more regular.
He tugs lightly on your hair, and you take him into your mouth, hand gripping his base as you pump what you can’t fit. He hisses with pleasure, brow furrowing then evening out as he rolls his hips upward, gasping softly when your throat contracts around him. Again, you pull up to his tip, hand stroking him firmly but not roughly—not this time. You flick your tongue once again over his slit, pressing another kiss down, before you’re urging his bent legs further apart.
A slightly startled moan slips from his lip as you press your mouth low on his inner thigh, working closer to where you want to please him from—giving him the chance to stop you if he doesn’t yet want to try it. But his skin is warm and clean, smelling distinctly of soap and himself, and your mouth is watering.
His spine arches as your tongue circles the tight ring of muscle, flicking over then pulling away to kiss the surrounding area. His hand has released your hair in favour of the bedsheets, fingers gripping hard as you continue pumping him. He twitches, and you pull up, giving more attention to his cock.
Azriel’s shadows have joined you, grazing over his inner wing with silky softness, helping you work him to the steadily budding orgasm that will leave him hot and trembling. The darkness flicks over his gleaming chest, swirling over his nipples, making him pant. His eyes are still closed, plush lower lip caught between his teeth and you again dip down, pleased with his reactions.
You circle the tight muscle again, pumping a little harder, moving in time with the gentle roll of his hips. Your tongue pushes inside, and you hear him inhale sharply, bucking into your hand. He’s close, and now that you’ve again gotten him to the edge, you can’t bring yourself to deny him.
How could you, knowing he’s receiving pleasure everywhere he can be? In all those intimate, sensitive areas?
Your tongue flicks over him again as you squeeze him deliciously, just the right side of painful. His shadows flick and swirl, and a deep, rich moan is pulled from between his lips, spine arching enough to tip his head back into the plush pillows. He twitches again before he releases, hips bucking in time with the waves of pleasure, hot cum spilling from his tip, spurting up onto the firm planes of his toned stomach. You keep pumping until his hips begin stuttering, and then you’re easing your pace, softening your grip as he becomes infinitely more sensitive.
When he’s done, thighs trembling, panting softly into the sex-tinted air, you raise from between his legs. Lick your lips when you see the mess he’s made of himself: hot, milky liquid gleaming on the sweat-slicked muscles of his stomach, shifting and glistening in the light with his breathing. The perfect dessert.
You crawl forward slowly, careful not to ruffle him too much, tongue lolling out as you begin lapping up the creamy liquid. His hand again finds your hair, stroking gently as you hum, drinking him up. It’s only when you’re certain you’ve licked up every drop of him that you prowl up his body, until you’re on top of him.
He’s still flushed, and offers you a lazy smile that sings songs of his satisfaction. “And here I had just gotten out of my shower,” he murmurs over your up-tilted lips. You smile gently, enjoying him being the one fully naked, for once, “I’ll change the covers tomorrow, husband.”
Azriel smiles up at you, lifting his head from the pillows as he brings your mouth down to his own, soft lips slanting over your own, tasting himself on you. He groans quietly, shadows and fingers already working deftly to remove your clothes. As soon as they’re gone, and you’re gloriously bare, he’s pulling you down on him, hot skin pressing flush together.
His shadows hook beneath the sheets, pulling them up and to cover once his wings have curled over you, keeping you tucked into his chest. The heat and warmth quickly lulls you to sleep, the two of you pulled under in a matter of minutes. Breathing deepening and evening out as you fall together, wrapped in each other’s scent and warmth.
Summary: Azriel can hardly sleep at night and with the two of you finally mated he worries about you. This is him trying to clear his head one evening.
Warnings: N/A [Soft!Azriel]
Word Count: 448
Notes: Soft!Boy Autumn continues...
_________________________________________
Azriel had been finding it hard to sleep for weeks.
Ever since the frenzy of time spent with you after accepting the mating bond had calmed and the two of you returned to the House of Wind, it hadn’t come easy for the shadowsinger.
It had been everything his brothers had said, everything he’d dreamed. The primal needs to taste every inch of your skin, the yearning beneath his skin for you though you were right there, flush against his own body.
It’s his instincts still running high, he tells himself as he rubs his tired eyes, jostling the tortoise shell glasses upon his face. He can’t help but watch the rise and fall of your chest from his spot at his desk, the journal in front of him flipped to a clean page.
You didn’t even know he had one. No one knows he has it except Rhys, who was the one that gave him the idea. The little notebook stayed tucked away in the folds of his shadows when he wasn’t using it, for no one’s eyes to ever see.
He rolls his eyes, doesn’t know what to say. Words cannot describe the beauty that is you, sheets pulled halfway up your body, the warmth of the fire casting soft shadows across the panes of your face.
He wishes he had Feyre’s gift of art, if only to have this moment on paper forever. The lock of hair falling across your forehead, begging to be pushed back, the softness of your features, the way one of your arms is splayed out across the bed into the space where he’s supposed to be, like you’re reaching out to pull him closer. Maybe he’d let his High Lady look into his mind and ask her to paint it, a gift from him to you.
You consume him, day and night. Even if he could start writing about you he’d never be able to finish it. He’d fill a thousand notebooks before even having to think about it.
You stir, hand grasping the sheets, brow furrowing unconsciously as if you know that he’s near but don’t know where. The corner of his mouth quirks as he watches you.
Looking down once more at the fresh page in front of him, not a drop of ink seeping into the pristine white paper, he shakes his head. Another night he might find the words to start but not now. He tucks the journal in his shadows, the tendrils swallowing them up with pleasure before Azriel is pushing himself up from his seat and slinking back into the bed where you rest, pulling you tightly against him, breathing in your calming scent.
Pairing: Azriel x Female Reader (It's more OC daughter)
Summary: The brightest light is sometimes born from the darkest corner of the soul.
Warning: Angst, nostalgia, fluff. I think that’s all—let me know if there's anything else I should add.
Word Count: 2,198
Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this story about our boys. As always, feel free to share your thoughts, suggestions—everything is welcome as long as it's respectful and meant to help.
English is not my first language, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical mistakes.
This is an original story, written by me. Please do not copy or plagiarize my work.
I truly appreciate every comment, reblog, and like I receive.
Happy reading!
Master list
The moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the bed where Azriel sat. Between his scarred fingers, he held a shining ring with a blue gemstone, surrounded by tiny stones like stars—a symbol of the one he once called his wife. Nights like this were the ones that hurt the most. There were days when he felt he didn’t deserve to live, nights when he longed desperately for the warmth of her body beside his.
He held the beautiful ring up to his eyes; the tiny sparkles of the gem reminded him of the light in her eyes when she was happy, when he made her laugh. They were only fleeting glimmers he wished had lasted forever.
But that would never happen again. There was no longer a "forever" together—not after he watched the life leave his beloved’s body.
“Listen to me…” Azriel whispered, his voice breaking. “Listen to me and come back, come home. Come back to me,” he begged as he held her body, rocking back and forth.
The pain tearing through his heart was unlike anything he had ever felt in his long life. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and in a moment, his beloved’s face was bathed in those warm drops.
Her face, so serene… Nothing disturbed her in that sweet slumber. And all Azriel could feel was each piece of his heart being ripped from his chest, how his soul slowly stopped singing.
“Please,” he begged once more. “Please, come back to me.”
Please. Please. Please.
There was no response. Her heart had stopped beating. Her cold body was all Azriel could feel—not warmth… only cold.
He opened the top drawer of the nightstand. In his free hand, he held the small velvet box that protected the one-of-a-kind piece he had commissioned just for her. He crawled beneath the sheets, pain his only companion. His shadows lingered throughout the room, drifting through Y/N’s belongings like it was the only routine they knew since she had gone.
Azriel sighed and closed his eyes. All he could see was her—all the little things she did that reminded him why he had fallen in love with his wife, his mate, his best friend, the love of his life, and the mother of his daughter. She would never come back.
The rays of the sun announced a new day. The sound of the door opening made him roll to the other side; he clung to the sheets like a small child. He wanted to stay in bed, but the voice of the person who interrupted his sleep broke the silence.
“I know you're awake,” she whispered, her voice full of resignation. “Today’s the big day. Nyx is being crowned and you're not ready,” the woman continued. She stepped further into the room and yanked the sheets away, just like Azriel used to do when she was little.
“Nira, leave me alone,” his voice, rough and hoarse from sleep, made his daughter laugh.
“I used to say the same thing when I was eight. Consider it my revenge.”
She couldn’t help but remember those times with her father. Everything looked so different back then. Her hero’s sense of humor had faded as she grew older. Every time her face reflected her mother’s… with the only exception being her eyes—hazel, just like her father's.
“Dad, come on. Rhys is going to come, and you don’t want him dragging you out of bed,” she continued, trying to convince him.
Azriel opened his eyes and felt his heart stop for a second. His daughter’s silhouette, bathed in sunlight, glowed like gold—like the most precious treasure he had: the constant reminder that, at the end of the day, someone was waiting for him to tell them about their day. But his little girl wouldn’t be waiting for him anymore.
“Just ten minutes and I’ll be downstairs,” Azriel murmured, unable to take his eyes off his daughter. His little whirlwind. Just a few years ago she had cried in his arms with chubby cheeks, and he hadn’t known how to walk that road. And now, she was a grown woman, taking care of her aging father.
“I’ll be waiting for you,” she said with a smile before leaving the room.
The spymaster got out of bed and walked straight to the shelf where he kept a small, simple black box. Just like him. He gently placed it into the pocket of his tunic.
Azriel looked at his reflection. Despite all the centuries he had lived, he still wasn’t used to wearing fancy clothes. The black suit with subtle golden embroidery was perfect for the occasion. He walked down the hallway, step by step, searching for where his daughter might be. Her presence was as familiar to him as the beat of his own heart. When he reached her side, he took the small box from his coat. Simple, unadorned. But the weight inside was immense.
“I want to give you this,” he said, holding it out.
She looked at him, puzzled, but took the box. She opened it carefully… and her breath caught.
A pendant. A stone of pure starlight, captured in a teardrop of carved crystal with impossible delicacy. The chain was dark, the color of the sky before a storm, and etched with details so subtle only someone like her would notice: lines of ancient runes. For protection.
“What is this?” she whispered.
“A part of me,” Azriel replied softly. “It’s forged from a fragment of my shadows. The first ones I ever learned to control.”
She looked up at him, surprised.
“The first ones?”
“The most stubborn ones. The ones that stayed when all the others left,” he said with a half-smile, though his voice carried something deeper. “I thought they might be useful to you.”
She closed her fingers tightly around the pendant.
“Why now?”
Azriel turned his gaze toward the window.
“Because now you’re building your own world. Because you’re leaving, in a way. And I want you to carry something that reminds you… that you’ll always have a home. That you can always come back. That I’ll always be here, even when you no longer need me.”
His words hit her harder than she expected. The kind of things he didn’t say lightly. The kind of love that wasn’t shouted, but felt deep in the skin.
“Dad…” her voice trembled.
He looked at her then, straight in the eyes. And for a moment, she saw the warrior, the spymaster of the Night Court… unarmed.
“You’ve become more than I ever dreamed of. Strong. Brilliant. Free. And now, you’re giving your life to someone else…” He paused. “But you’ll never stop being my little girl.”
The tear that slipped down her cheek was silent, but she didn’t hide it.
“No matter how much I grow, I’ll always need you.”
Azriel nodded. Then, he gently lifted the pendant and tied it around her neck. His fingers, hardened by training and time, were surprisingly soft.
“If you ever feel lost… touch it. My shadows will come to you.”
She hugged him. With enough strength to make his wings flare slightly, wrapping around her. As if they wanted to shield her from the entire universe. And he… he held her like he could still keep her safe in his arms. Like the world was a little less dark when she was near.
Father and daughter made their way to the Grand Palace for the celebration. Arms linked, for the last time.
The ceremony had already ended.
The night had stretched on with wine, soft music, and congratulations. The newlyweds were downstairs, surrounded by friends and family, but in one of the highest towers of the Palace, two shadows shared a glass of wine in silence.
Azriel didn’t drink much, but that night… that night, he did.
“I never thought we’d end up here,” Rhysand said, breaking the silence. “You giving your daughter away… and me gaining a daughter-in-law.”
Azriel shot him a sidelong glance, but the small curve of his lips betrayed his calm.
The day he had to entrust his daughter to another man felt so distant now. That night when the light of his life was born was a memory he cherished more with each passing year, and now, the possibility of becoming a grandfather loomed closer.
“I never thought your son would survive his first training with Cassian.”
Rhys chuckled quietly, sipping from his glass.
“He almost didn’t. But then he started flying before he turned two, and his mother didn’t let anyone take him away for weeks.”
“I remember,” Azriel said, turning the glass in his hands. “I remember when she spelled the nursery door so Cassian couldn’t sneak in and drag him off to train.”
Rhysand laughed again, but then fell silent. His expression grew more serious as he looked at his brother—not with the gaze of the High Lord, but just as Rhys. Simply Rhys.
“You know he’ll take care of her, right?”
Azriel took a second to answer. He’d known Nyx since he was a child; he had been just his nephew… until he wasn’t. Not once those blue eyes had landed on his little girl. From the moment they were old enough to admit their love.
“I know,” his rough voice betrayed him to Rhys. He didn’t know how long he could live in a house without the sound of Nira’s voice, her morning songs, and her nighttime jokes.
Rhys set his glass on the stone railing. “Nyx… he’s not like me. He’s softer in some ways. More of a dreamer. But when it comes to her, to your daughter… Azriel, I swear by the stars-damned sky, there is nothing he wouldn’t do for her.”
Azriel knew that. Even when his brother’s son had “saved her life” from an evil frog in the pond, or the time Nira scraped her knee from running too fast. That very afternoon, Nyx’s eyes hadn’t lied: the care in his hands as he helped her up, the way he healed her himself and told her everything would be okay… Azriel had known then.
“I saw it in his eyes. Since they were children.”
“You knew since then?”
“No,” he looked straight at him. “But one afternoon, I watched them from the window. My shadows confirmed it the next day.”
Rhys watched him in silence. There were so many unspoken words between them. Centuries of battles, of wounds and loyalties. But this… this was different. Their children would shape the next generation of the Night Court’s reign.
“She has your strength, Az,” Rhysand said softly. “But also your silence. Your way of seeing the world without saying a word… and still saying everything.”
Azriel looked up at the stars. They knew how often he’d begged them to give him the strength to keep going.
“It wasn’t always easy to care for her. Sometimes… it felt like she was the only thing anchoring me to the world. That if she ever disappeared, I would too.”
Rhys lowered his gaze in silent understanding. That night when Velaris had mourned those lost to that strange illness. The night his brother lost his wife and mate, and Rhysand lost a friend. A member of his family. Azriel had shut down completely. Feyre had cared for Nira until the spymaster was ready again.
“Now it’s time to let her fly.”
Azriel closed his eyes for a moment.
“I did, long ago. I was just pretending she was still by my side.”
Rhysand smiled—the smile of a father who understood how hard it was to let a child walk their own path, build their own life, follow their own destiny. And even though he was entrusting his legacy to his son, he knew it couldn’t compare to letting go of a daughter.
“You have the right to feel this, brother. But this isn’t a loss. It’s a new beginning—for all of us.”
Azriel took a deep breath. Then, for the first time in a long while, he set his glass down on the stone wall… and allowed himself to smile.
“I just hope Nyx is ready for her.”
“No one is,” Rhysand laughed. “But he’ll learn. And if not… he’s got two giant-winged, short-tempered fathers to put him in his place.”
They both laughed, though it didn’t last long. Azriel, lost in his grief, turned to the window again. The full moon bathed the palace in its cold light, as if it too mourned the absence of its mate on this special night.
The sound of footsteps echoed in the room, and the shadow of another Ilyrian warrior appeared:
“Brothers, the party’s downstairs. I bet Leif is about to finish off the wine.”
Azriel and Rhysand followed the feared warrior down the stairs, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders like when they were young. Cassian mumbled nonsense, fueled by the alcohol in his system. Azriel could only grunt every time his brother leaned more heavily on him.
And under the starry sky, the shadows and the night shared a moment of peace. Of pride. Of farewell.
Because their children were the future.
And they, though marked by darkness… had brought light into the world.
*divider by @cafekitsune , thank you <33.
A/N: I'm back. Sorry to keep you waiting, or maybe not. I've been busy with my degree paperwork, so I haven't had time to write, but today I'm back with this little story, and I hope you enjoyed it. Let me know what you think. Kisses, love you guys.
Story Summary: On your 145th birthday, your mate Azriel has a very special day planned for you. His only requirement of you is that you give up control and follow your instincts.
Warnings: mentions of abuse and domestic violence, killing your husband, ddlg, allusions to sex, egregious usage of pet names
Author's Note: Welcome back! If you haven't yet, go read the first part of this, the link is at the top of the post! I hope you all liked the first part, and again, there may be a smutty epilogue in a few days, but no promises.
18+ only pls
💙🤍💙🤍💙
You’re awoken again by Azriel moving, this time he’s gently pushing you into a seated position, the blanket slipping from your body and you let out a sleepy moan, not ready to be separated from the warmth of Azriel’s body.
“Come on, princess, let’s go get dressed for dinner.” You only push back into Azriel’s grasp, wrapping your arms around his torso. “If you get up and get dressed now, we will snuggle and stay in bed for as long as you want tomorrow morning, baby, I promise,” he offers, and it’s tempting enough that you unravel your arms from him, looking up sleepily at his face.
“What’s for dinner?”
“I booked a private booth at your favorite, Georgina’s.” You hum in approval, standing up without him prompting you, the promise of one of your favorite dishes too great to resist.
Azriel chuckles, then follows you into the bedroom.
“Did you want to wear the dress from earlier again, or the one you picked out today?”
“The one I picked out today, please.” He slowly undresses you, down to your underwear. He gets a pair of tights that match your skin color from the dresser and slips them onto your legs and over your hips, then grabs the dress from its bag, slipping it over your head and tying the ribbon into a bow on your back with caring hands. He kissed from your ear down your neck, the sensation leaving you with a different type of hunger.
Azriel stepped away from you, going to the closet and pulling out a suit, quickly redressing himself.
“Alright, baby, let’s get you dressed for outside,” He says, pulling you toward the entryway for the second time today. He bundles you up carefully before getting his own winter wear on, then guides you out the front door into the wintery cold.
On the walk to the restaurant, you pull your scarf up to cover your mouth and nose to protect your face from the slight breeze. Azriel sends his shadows out in front of your path, clearing the snow to help make the trek easier for you.
You arrive at the restaurant quickly, a waiter leading you back to a secluded both, mostly hidden from sight of the other diners. Azriel removes both of your coats, hats, and gloves, handing them to the waiter to store in the back. Once he’s left, Azriel sits down, pulling you onto his lap.
“Azriel, what are you doing?” You hiss in his ear, nervously lookIng around to make sure nobody can see you perched on your mate’s lap.
“You will sit right here for the entire dinner, baby, and I’m going to order for you and feed you every bite of food. And you’re going to keep being my good little girl, right? Because daddy’s got a surprise for you later, and you want your last birthday present, right?” He whispered lowly in your ear, and you cheeks flamed up in an instant-
You had thought he had forgotten.
A few months ago when you and Azriel had been entangled with each other, you had accidentally let slip one of your biggest secrets- you had been so caught up in the way he felt, so in love and safe and feeling cherished that you had moaned out a soft “daddy” as you came, your cheeks flushing much like they had now. But Azriel hadn’t so much as mentioned it, just nuzzling his face into your neck as he followed you over the brink.
With your eyes wide from mortification, you turned to look at Azriel.
“Hey, hey, sweet thing, what’s wrong?”
“You- I- don’t… don’t tease me,” you finally manage to get out, stumbling over your words in your embarrassment and turning your face into his shoulder.
“I’m not teasing, Y/N.” Azriel manages to lift your head so he can look you in the eyes. “I want nothing more than to provide you with everything you want, and that includes the things that you are to shy to ask for. I would love to play out this fantasy of yours, especially because it’s a fantasy of mine as well.”
The heat of your cheeks subsided slightly at his admission, and rushed between your thighs instead.
“Really…?” You ask in a small voice, needing a second confirmation to be certain, to trust your mate with the side of you that you hadn’t even explored yet.
“Yes, my sweet babygirl. I would love to be your daddy,” he whispers, just as the waiter returns to your booth.
You hide your head in Az’s shoulder again, relaxing a bit when his wing comes to wrap around you. Azriel orders for the both of you, but you aren’t paying attention to what, only waiting for the other fae to leave.
Shyly, you look back up at Azriel’s face to see that he’s already watching you intently. Your mouth parts, and you sigh, “Daddy…”
“There she is, my sweet princess,” Azriel coos, a hand coming up to brush against your cheek. You turn your face slightly and press a loving kiss to the scarred flesh.
The two of you sit wrapped in each other, Azriel feeding both of you pieces of buttered bread every now and then and giving you a few sips of wine until the waiter returns, bearing two dishes in his arms.
He sets them in front of the both of you, one your favorite pasta dish, creamy with pieces of beef and mushrooms, and the other a large steak with a roasted potato and carrots on the side.
Azriel waits until the waiter leaves to begin feeding you, starting with the pasta. It’s as delicious as always, and you relax fully into Azriel’s comforting embrace. He feeds you a bite of everything before he begins to eat himself, you notice.
The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, and you only tense when the waiter returns to check on the two of you every so often. Azriel’s free hand was stroking up and down your spine soothingly the entire time.
It was perfection.
“I’m glad you think so, baby girl.” Your cheeks heated once again, had you really said that aloud without realizing?
Oh well. Azriel is happy that I did, that’s what matters.
He goes to feed you another bite of pasta, but you turn your head to nuzzle into his neck instead, feeling like you might burst if you have another bite.
“All full, baby?” You nod. “Okay, let me get this wrapped up and the check taken care of, then we’ll go home, okay?”
He takes care of everything in a few minutes, and then you’re being bundled up again and led out of the restaurant, back into the chilly air.
The two of you walk slowly back towards your home, but you pause in front of a small coffee stand where fae are lined up. You smell chocolate.
And suddenly your stomach doesn’t feel quite so full, you could definitely fit a bit of hot chocolate into yourself.
“Did you want something to drink for the walk home, baby?” Azriel asks, and you nod your head. “What do you say?”
He’s looking at you expectantly, and you know what he wants. You glance at the people in line in front of you, then move as close as you can to Azriel, standing on your tip-toes to whisper “Please, daddy, can we share a hot chocolate?”
The redness of your cheeks has almost nothing to do with the chill in the air at this point, but you don’t mind as Azriel’s lips break into a grin, the second of the day. “Of course, sweetness. Especially after you asked so nicely, my perfect little birthday girl.” You’re rewarded by a soft but passionate kiss, and a few minutes later with a delicious and warm drink, cupped tightly in your mittened hands.
Before you can return to walking back home, Azriel scoops you into his arms, holding you bridal style.
“This way you don’t need to walk, or let go of the cocoa when I want a sip,” he explained, but you knew he just wanted to carry you. He always has liked taking you places in his arms whenever you allow, and with his warmth pressed against you, you couldn’t think of any place you’d rather be.
By the time you make it home, the hot chocolate is gone and the chill is starting to get through your coat.
Azriel sets you on your feet once you’re inside, and wastes no time in ridding the both of you of your outerwear. He pushes you backwards by your hips, pressing kisses to your cheeks and lips, all the way into the bedroom.
Your knees meet the bed, and you fall onto it on your back, then prop yourself up on your elbows.
“Are you ready for your final present, baby girl?”
His hazel eyes are heated, a promise of pleasure in them.
“Yes, please, daddy,” you say breathlessly, and you know it will be a long night with your mate.
A/N: I want to write more soft!Azriel because honestly 🥲
Summary: Things between Night and Spring have been on the mend over the past centuries, yet despite the steady improvement, the shadowsinger finds himself longing to return to Spring for the chance to visit the Court seamstress
Visual Prompt here!
Azriel suppresses a grin as he watches Cass’ nose twitch, the General no doubt pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth. He catches the shit-eating glint in his eye, sending a glower to the Spymaster, knowing exactly what he’s subtly gloating over.
Rhys turns away from Feyre, sending a glare over his shoulder, sensing that his brothers were up to something, “keep yourselves out of trouble.” Azriel sends a shadows skating up his brother’s back, making Cass shift, “I’m serious, Cassian. Don’t get kicked out of this Court too,” Rhys adds, sending a serious look to him as he places his hand on Feyre’s lower back, guiding her down the hall.
Cassian mutters something under his breath, before turning and punching his brother in the arm, “enough of your underhanded tricks. We’re supposed to be on the same side here.” Azriel allows the corners of his mouth to curl upward, “I’d rather not have a partner who’s sneezing all over me.” His retort makes Cassian scowl, but there’s a playful glint in his eye, “fine, but you’ll be the one having our High Lady scold you for that,” the General calls as he moves after the two figures, pretending to be on his way to snitch on his brother.
“Don’t get into trouble,” Azriel calls after him. He hears the faint sounds of Cass mimicking his words, making jabbering gestures with his hands as he rounds the corner, leaving Az to himself.
He schools his features into neutrality, turning to glance out through the archways, noticing how the sun is dancing across the lush greenery. His eyes catch on a familiar female carrying a heavy-looking basket inside, stacked with earth-toned fabrics. She seems to be struggling, making his mouth tilt upward.
Turning away, his gaze drags across the large expanse of meadow, casting over the forests fencing the mansion in. On the surface it appears open, flushed with life, until the breeze nips a little too hard, or the flora grows a little too thick, showing more thorns than petals. He can see how easily the land could turn into a cage.
————————
You wobble up the steps, hauling the basket with you until you reach your designated work room. It’s a marvellously open room on the third floor of the mansion, your windows overlooking the sprawling fields, a perfect view of how the lands merge into luscious forest, ripe with greenery and pigment.
Setting the fabrics down on the armrest, you flop down beside them, resting in the afternoon sun that’s spilling through the window. You’re on the verge of nodding off when a voice echoes through the room, “so hardworking.”
You release an audible groan, mouth twisting into a grin as you lift yourself from the chaise longue, spotting the male leaning against the doorframe. “You have a habit of catching me in the wrong moments,” you complain, moving to a sitting position, “and I’m beginning to think it’s intentional, Spymaster.”
His eyes sparkle as he enters the room, walking over to where you’re half sitting, half lounging. “Or maybe you never actually work,” he shoots back, eyes sweeping across your studio. “I get plenty of work done!” You snap, indignantly, “that’s why I’m the favoured seamstress in this Court.” You bat your eyelashes at him.
He knows you’re being modest. At four hundred and twenty-three, you’re most likely the favoured in the land.
You sit up straight, “wait. I have an idea for your next gift, but I need your measurements.” He raises an eyebrow in suspicion, the mention of your so-called ‘gifts’ making him wary. “What do you have planned for me this time?” He drawls, putting on an air of defeat as he moves over to where you’re sat.
“It wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now. Would it?” You grin, unfurling a measuring tape from your pocket and brandishing it. He merely sighs, a glimmer of life sparking in his hazel eyes, “do your worst.”
“I think you’re going to regret that,” you reply, moving behind him. He tenses, realising what it is you’re after. His wings tense, skin pulling taut over his shoulders as the muscles contract with apprehension, muscle rippling across his back with the movement.
You stop shy of his back, “I can estimate, if you’re too…” scared? Nervous? Shy? “I mean, I understand they’re sensitive.” You take a step back for him to know exactly where you are, “it’s not my intention to make you uncomfortable.” His gaze latches onto yours as he looks over his shoulders, expression unreadable.
“You try anything funny I’ll cut you down where you stand,” he settles on, mouth curling up at the sides though there’s a sinister tone that has your tongue drying. It takes a moment for you to formulate a response, not really having expected him to allow you this opportunity. You smile, cheekily, “yes sir.”
You work in silence, save for the occasional request for Azriel to shift his wings to different positions, which he follows exceptionally. There are a few times your tape doesn’t span long enough; you have to press the marking fabric against his skin to note where to restart. Each time you give him a heads up along with a free invitation to veto at any time. He just nods along with your requests, indulging your curiosity each time until you’ve completed your measurements.
“I’m dreading returning,” he admits when you set the tape down, jotting down each measurement you took into your notebook, catching a glance at some designs you have sketched on previous pages. Your brow curves in sad curiosity, “why’s that?” A grin twinkles in his eyes, lips curving, “to see whatever you’ll have created.”
A huff of relieved laughter escapes your mouth, smiling to yourself as you shut your notebook, “and here I thought you were enjoying my company.” You move across the room to where you keep your fabrics, “how foolish of me.”
Azriel watches you with dilated pupils as you riffle through the materials, pulling a few scraps from the mix then returning to him, “what do you think of these?”
He arches a brow, “I’m going to need a little more guidance?” Your lips quirk up at the edges, “how do they feel? Too heavy? Too thick? Not breathable?” You prompt making his own lips lift.
“For what?”
Your eyes skip upwards to his as you make an innocent look, feigning ignorance, “oh, I don’t know… your skin? Maybe your wings?”
His grin widens, nodding his head conspiratorially, “I see.” Then he frowns, “actually, I don’t. Why do you need to know how the fabric feels in regard to my wings?” You widen your eyes slightly, pouting as if you’re clueless, glancing away from him and pulling your hands behind your back, as if to hide the evidence. He just sighs again, holding his hands out to sort through the fabric, testing each of them out.
“I like this one,” he settles on, “it feels stretchy, and heavy, but not so it would be uncomfortable.”
“I’ll make sure not to use that one,” you quip, taking the fabric from his hands, fingers brushing for a moment.
Azriel watches you return to your work bench, wondering if your hands are also tingling.
“Should I be concerned over your sudden fascination with my wings?” He speaks after having silently crept upon you. You jump, turning with a scowl on your face. You jab your finger at him, “first of all, never do that again.” You make to set your hands against his chest, then think better of it, choosing to simply shoo him away, “secondly, stop peeking over my shoulder. I have classified information in this notebook. I can’t be letting the Spymaster have a free flash.”
He allows you to walk him backward, “so I should be worried?” You keep an eye out to make sure there’s nothing he could slip on as you guide him back to the sofa, “presumptuous to think the classified information is about you and not other clientele.” Your eyes latch onto one another the moment he reaches the sofa. Your hands skim his shoulders and he allows himself to sit, looking up at you who’s between his legs.
“And no. You don’t have anything to worry about,” your tack on, turning away, “though I’ve been known to lie, on occasion.” His hand circles your wrist firmly, pulling you back to him. A smile breaks across your face as a matching one graces his features. “Sorry, that was in poor taste,” you snicker, seeing his expression. “It’s for a decent project, I swear.”
He lifts a brow to tell you he doesn’t believe you, “you’re sure it wasn’t for personal gain?” He taunts softly, his thumb brushing circles into your skin. It takes you a moment to piece the dots together, but when you do, a laugh breaks from you. You hold a single hand up in defeat, “fine. You caught me. Can’t believe you saw through my master plan so easily.”
He smiles back at you, playing along, “well, I am the Spymaster. You’ll have to do better than that.”
“And yet you let me take your measurements anyway,” you drawl, pretending to think, letting the implication hang in the air.
His smiles fades as he meets your gaze. “I did.”
The skin beneath his thumb tingles, your clothes feeling stuffy and heavy beneath his gaze. You suck in a breath, “good to know.” There’s a pause, and you wonder if it feels as long for him as it does for you. “Anyway,” you break the silence, “how’s the Night Court treating you?”
He huffs a laugh, rich and deep. You want to feed on it forever, wake up to it and bathe in it. “Not as well as you, apparently,” he casts a pointed glance across your room that’s emptier than usual, devoid of the usually highly decorated mannequins that support your various designs. “Ugh, you know I work. You just come in at the worst times.” He gives you a look that tells you he doesn’t believe a word of it, making you huff.
“You know, with all the gifts I make you, you should know how hard I work,” you snap, mouth tipping at the edges into a tell-tale smile. His features are a mask of neutrality as he gazes up at you, “I think it shows the amount of free-time you have on your hands,” he drawls, a smirk twisting the corners of his lips. You scoff, “and I think it shows I care. But if you’d like me to stop, you need only say the word,” you taunt, raising a brow expectantly.
He huffs a soft laugh, your blood heating at the sound, body lightening, “I would never dream of depriving myself of your luxuries,” he flirts, making you roll your eyes.
“One day, Shadowsinger,” you grin, “one day I’ll create something so obnoxiously beautiful even your endless patience won’t be enough to overcome it.”
“I suppose until then, you’ll just have to keep trying. But I assure you, your efforts are in vain, dear seamstress. My patience is indeed endless, and your humour is boundless. Overall, your company is a pleasant bonus with every sojourn I must take down to this wretched Court.”
Your mouth drops open.
He cocks a brow expectantly, and you snort a laugh. “I have absolutely zero idea what you just said, but screw you.”
His lips tilt, “I confessed to enjoying your company, my lady.” He brings your knuckles to his glorious mouth, pressing a kiss to the pockmarked skin from your time spent as a seamstress. “‘My lady’ indeed,” you snap, but not pulling your hand away, “you’re cunning with your words, Shadowsinger. But I’m aware of the tactical benefits to flattery and so refuse to trust a single word that comes from your gilded tongue.” You smile, satisfied.
A wicked smirk dances over his elysian mouth, “my gilded tongue can do more than just flatter, my lady.”
You cock a skeptical brow, “pray tell.”
He grins, “as silver-tipped it is, words will not suffice for my talents. They’re practicalities that must be demonstrated.” This time your brow dips in concentration as you attempt to match him, “I do hate to confess my loss, but you’ve quite confused me with your courtier’s mouth.”
His thumb brushes cheekily over the knuckles of your fingers, your eyes following helplessly, “this is my form of retribution - your form of payment - for every so-called ‘gift’ you have created.”
You shake your head, brows curving, “oh for goodness sake! I can hardly understand a word when you speak like that. It does my head in.”
He laughs at your frustration, “then I have served my purpose.”
“Your purpose is to boggle my mind?” You retort, one hand lifting to the side of your head as you pretend to massage and ache from your skin. A grin breaks on your mouth, despite your stoic attempts to conceal it. “My purpose,” he repeats, thumb stilling, “is to bring a smile to your face.”
This time you don’t laugh, or attempt to brush him off. A flush lifts your cheeks as you look down at him, sizing him up, “do you mean that, Azriel?”
“I would not lie to a lady as noble as yourself,” he mocks, a teasing lilt to his pleasurable voice. You purse your lips at his reply before smoothly lowering yourself to his lap, settling over one of his thighs, leaning against the solid warmth of his chest.
With the proximity you’re able to feel his breath catch, his hand tightening over yours as you allow the connection. “One word,” you remind him, gazing up into his hazel eyes, “and I will stop entirely.” You shift further against him when he remains quiet, taking you in silently as if afraid you’ll turn in a fright at the slightest of movements. Utterly ridiculous, really.
“One word, Azriel,” you breathe, words brushing over his mouth, “and we can pretend this was all part of the jest.” Your hand unlatches from his in favour of pressing against his chest, sloping over the broad framework of his shoulders. Your own breath stutters a bit when his hands drop to your waist, one settling at the small of your back, dangerously low. Should anyone walk in at that moment, it would look positively scandalous.
“I’ll conceal everything, if that’s what you’d prefer,” you murmur over his lips, “even from you, spymaster.”
“Never.” The words are dragged from his throat, roughly spilling from his mouth as his fingers press into the soft fabric of your clothes. A small smile graces your features, before you’re gently pushing against him, mouth catching over his.
It’s hesitant, both of you curious to see how the events will unfold. His lips feel like heated silk beneath your own, pillowy and plump as you move against him. You pull away, eyes latching onto his before he leans forward, capturing your mouth again with his own, his hand supporting your back as you’re taken by surprise.
A faint moan slips from your mouth to his, a hand cupping the back of your neck as he pulls you against him, tongue pushing in as he tastes you. He groans when your fingers thread in his inky hair, fingers brushing delicately over his skin, oscillating in smooth, reassuring patterns.
When you eventually manage to untangle yourself from his mouth, you’re panting, staring into his hazy eyes that clear as the set on your own. “Gilded tongue indeed,” you pant, softly, tracing smooth marks in his silky hair. A glint of mischief shines in his hazel eyes, “I aim only to please, my lady.”
“Would you like to know how to further delight me, then?” You breathe, unable to remove you eyes from his own. “Gods, tell me.”
“Touch me as you wish to be touched,” you whisper, “I want to learn what excites you, Azriel. I want to become your necessity and your indulgence.”
Your forehead presses to his own, hands coming round to cup his jaw, pulling back as you tilt his head. “Please, let me love you,” you breathe, uttering that silent prayer you have kept so securely, “allow me this one desire.”
His eyes are pools of reflection, mirroring the adoration you know has revealed itself to him. The male nods, a slight coil of satisfaction settling in your lower belly at reducing him to actions.
He kisses the answer into your mouth, reverence flowing with every press of his tongue, every brush of his fingertips, every steady beat of his heart. He gives all of it to you.
