and the dreams are answered - azriel x reader
🫶🏻summary: azriel panics because a new chapter begins.
author’s note: i just imagine azriel absolutely shocked by the news when he’s told he’ll be a father. i also know he’ll do everything in his power to provide all the love, safety, support and care for his child. 🩷
one shot
Azriel stood frozen, like a statue. He couldn't hear the words stumbling out of your mouth anymore, but he watched as you paced back and forth—from the door to the balcony and back again—nervous out of your mind.
But Azriel? Oh, he was panicking.
His shadows weren’t nearly as sluggish as he was. They kept roaming back and forth between the two of you, brushing soft tendrils delicately across your cheeks, your wrists, your ankles, and then, tentatively, your stomach.
"Baby."
"Baby."
"Baby," they kept repeating back to him, but the poor man remained as frozen as the Winter Court.
"Say something, godsdamn it!" You came to a sudden stop, looking at your mate with widened, watery, panicked eyes. "Are you upset? Do you not want it? Or... do you want it, but not with me? Oh gods, you look pale. White as a ghost. Fuck, I shouldn't have said anything, but Madja and Feyre both said you'd figure it out sooner or later anyway, and I didn't want you to be upset because I kept it from you, so I thought I should just tell you..."
You kept rambling, the words blurring into gibberish because you were completely, utterly terrified. And Azriel just stood there—his hands and jaw slack, pupils blown wide, doing nothing but staring.
Because this dream was something deeply buried inside his chest. It was a dream he had only ever just dared to imagine himself fulfilling.
And now, panic gripped him.
What if he wasn't capable of being a father? He didn't even know what a good father was supposed to look like. What if the child grew up hating him? What if they suffered just for being the child of a bastard, brute Illyrian?
What if—
"Az?" Your voice cut through the endless spiral of his dark, doubting thoughts.
You stood across from him, looking so small, with tears glistening in your eyes.
Oh gods, what have I done?, he thought, his heart squeezing painfully inside his chest.
"Do you not want it?" you asked, your voice small and painfully uncertain.
"No!" he said, but he immediately winced as your face crumpled. "I—I mean… I'm not… I'm not mad about it. At all."
Mother above, he was sweating.
You stood still, anxiously wringing your fingers. "But?" you asked, your voice broken and wobbling.
Azriel remained quiet as he stepped closer to you. He genuinely expected you to step out of his way—to push him away.
But you didn't. You waited for him, waiting for his touch.
"I'm happy because it happened with you," he murmured, tentatively brushing a knuckle over your wet cheek. You bit your lip, but your chin still quivered.
Azriel's heart was beating rapidly—so loud you could hear it—but down the bond, you could feel his unmistakable fear.
His voice was quiet as he spoke. "I don't know how to fulfill the role of a good father."
Your face softened.
You knew all about the painful, terror-filled childhood in which your mate had grown up. You knew that even after all this time, he still beat himself up, still carrying the deep-seated belief that he wasn't deserving of unconditional love. He was terrified that somewhere along the line, that he would mess up and lose you for good. For so long, he had been convinced that you deserved someone else—someone who wasn’t as deeply broken as he was.
It had taken time, but you had never turned your back on him. You had kept showing him, day after day, just how much you loved him. You had proven to him that he was deserving of goodness, of unconditional love, and of protection.
"Az," you whispered softly, gently brushing his hair away from his beautiful eyes to force him to look at you. "I love you."
He sucked in a sharp breath.
"What your father was," you said firmly, "doesn't mean you are him."
His dark eyes bored into yours, his ragged breath fanning over your tear-soaked face. His massive wings, along with his arms, were still heavy and sluggish for someone so feared all across Prythian.
"What if I fuck up?" he whispered carefully, the vulnerability in his voice nearly breaking your heart.
"We’re first-time parents," you said softly. You reached up, gently cupping his face and brushing your palm against his cheek. He instantly leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a brief second as if your hand was his only anchor. "We’re both going to fuck up sometimes, Az. That's just a part of it."
Azriel weakly shakes his head. "No, I mean… what if they’ll hate me?"
A small, tender smile tugged at your lips, and you let out a soft wet laugh, leaning forward to press your forehead against his. "They won't. Well… maybe when they’re teenagers and want to rebel. But never for real."
He breathed out a shaky sigh, his large hands finally moving to rest gently on your hips, anchoring you to him. "How are you so calm?"
"Because," you murmured, sliding your fingers through the dark strands of his hair, "I know our baby is going to grow up in a house completely overflowing with love. I know his father might be the Shadowsinger—feared across all of Prythian—but to our little one, he’ll just be the center of the world. He’s going to look at you and want to be exactly like his dad."
A spark of something warm and bright lit up his eyes, his grip on your hips tightening just a fraction. "His dad..." He paused, swallowing hard as a soft, rare smile finally broke through his rugged features. "You kept saying 'he.' You think it's a boy?"
You bit your lip, but a soft giggle escaped, suddenly shy as you looked up at him, nodding as you slid your arms around his neck to pull him closer. "I had a dream that you were holding a little winged babe, his little face calm as he snoozed on your chest,” Azriel’s eyes widen slightly, his mouth falling open.
“So, I hope it’s a boy. A sweet little boy who looks just like you,” you kiss him softly. “You're going to show him exactly how beautiful it is to be loved, Az. I know it. You deserve it.”
You deserve it.
The words echoed deeply inside Azriel’s chest. As he looked down at you—at your beautiful, radiant smile, the happy tears now glistening in your eyes, and the way your entire face lit up with an ethereal warmth—he couldn't help but believe it. He believed, that the Mother truly wanted him to be happy. That you, his mate, wanted nothing more than to give him a joyful life.
So, he smiled.
It was a wide, breathtaking smile that bloomed across his face before breaking into a soft, rare laugh. The mating bond between you vibrated violently, flooded with pure love and dizzying excitement.
Azriel gently tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear, cradling your face inside his large, scarred palms.
Hands that you loved so deeply. Hands that brought an instant wave of comfort, making you feel entirely protected, cherished, and safe.
"You're glowing," he murmured, his voice thick with awe as he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered in the entire world.
But now it’s two.
"Because you make me happy," you whispered back, leaning into his touch. "Because I'm your mate. I'm your wife."
"And the mother of my child," he added, the words sounding sacred on his lips. His thumbs gently stroked your cheekbones, wiping away the remnants of your tears.
"You're going to be a father, Az," you laughed, the sound watery but bursting with happiness. You slid your hands up to rest over his broad chest, feeling the steady, rapid thrum of his heartbeat beneath your palms. "Is it too early to start picking out baby names?"
Azriel let out another laugh, the sound rich and low in his chest.
He didn't answer with words. Instead, he wrapped his arms securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest and burying his face into the crook of your neck. His large wings folded entirely around the two of you, shielding you both from the rest of the world like a cocoon.
As he held you there in the quiet safety of your room, one of his large hands slowly moved down, sliding away from your waist to rest incredibly gentle over your still-flat stomach. He let out a long, contented sigh against your skin, holding you close as if he would never, ever let go.
“I love you,” he whispers against your ear.
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