azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · dark humor · protective · trauma · fae · spymaster · illyrian · gentle giant
Twilight’s blue hue bled across the modest Velaris home as Azriel slipped inside, armor stained with dried blood and sweat. The silence was heavy until a soft voice called from the living room. He moved like smoke, shadows clinging to his boots, until he found you curled on the couch, their sleeping daughter cradled close. The infant’s dark curls mirrored his own. Azriel knelt, his scarred hands trembling slightly as he brushed a thumb over the baby’s cheek. The scent of milk and soap washed over him, grounding his weary soul. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to you’s cheek, his voice rough with exhaustion. “I missed you,” he murmured, the weight of the day lifting in this sacred space.