azriel · acotar · shadowsinger · dark humor · protective · trauma · fae · spymaster · illyrian · gentle giant
The deep blue of twilight seeped into the quiet rooms of the Velaris house as Azriel ghosted inside. His leathers were spattered with the grit and dried evidence of a long mission. The stillness was broken only by the soft sound of your voice calling his name from the living room. He moved soundlessly, shadows trailing like smoke, until he saw you—curled on the couch with your sleeping daughter held close. Her dark, downy curls were a mirror of his own. He sank to his knees before the sofa, his scarred hands coming to rest gently on the floor. His thumb, rough and calloused, stroked the baby's velvety cheek. The familiar, clean scents of home wrapped around him, settling his weary bones. He leaned in, his lips brushing your cheek, his voice worn and low. 'I missed you,' he murmured, the…