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utterlyazriel · 3 months

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the green emotion

someone requested jealous!azriel and i... made up a whole plot. i hope it's decent and fulfills the craving ! i'm a firm believer than he's so silly when he gets jealous <3 friends to lovers, about 4k

Azriel was not a jealous Male.

That was what he told himself. Jealousy was something that possessed the likes of Cassian or Rhys, driven to territorial acts that likened them to wild beasts. Fueled by their protectiveness, their senses dulled beyond reason.

Jealousy was a sharp whip with a taunting bite and Azriel was one of few who did not bend beneath it.

He had adopted a strength over millennia, an iron will, that prevented him from harboring such unsavory feelings. He was a stronger male than that, not so easily willed by strong ugly emotions such as jealousy.

That was what he told himself — as he tailed behind you, hanging back far enough you could not detect his presence, his shadows shrouding him.

It was reaching evening in Velaris, the last remnants of the sun's dappled light scattered across the cobblestones. You were clothed in a velvet cloak that reached down to your ankles. Its hood was drawn up, to cover your face.

If Azriel didn’t know you so well, not the weight of your steps and the lithe you carried yourself with, you may have slipped by unnoticed.

But Azriel was the Spymaster for a reason — and you were keeping secrets.

Truly, it itched and picked at him as he turned reason over and over again in his mind as he followed you. What possible reason could you have for skirting around in the dark? To slip from your friends and cloak yourself, wishing to remain unseen on the streets of your home?

It didn’t make sense to him. No thoughts of treason ever breached his mind. You wouldn’t dare, he knew that. You treasured your family as deeply as Azriel did himself, having bled and fought for your space beside them many years ago.

But as Azriel traced the path you walked, knowing you were fully in your right to go about your business however you pleased, it couldn’t be ignored. Logic kept pointing fingers in the same direction.

If he did not suspect you of withholding vital information from your court, then his quiet tailing must be fueled by something else. Something as trivial as an emotion such as…. jealousy.

Azriel bristled at the thought and his wings shook silently behind him, as if shaking off some imaginary snow.

He did not get jealous.

He was simply… ensuring the safety of his court. Which included your own safety. Even the thought made him grimace in the shadows, knowing the smack he would receive from Cassian if his brother ever heard the implication you couldn’t fend for yourself.

You most certainly could. Azriel and Cassian had both spent their fair share of hours battling against you in the fighting ring, training you up.

And it’s hardly likely that the image of you — donned in your fighting leathers, forehead beaded with sweat, chest heaving as you gripped your sword tight and grinned across the ring — was something Azriel would forget anytime soon.

Cauldron boil him if he ever had to admit aloud just how often he thought of that image.

Still, something within him kept his feet moving, footsteps as quiet as the night.

Faelight illuminated across the cobbles, the light of the rising moon, brighter in this court than any other, cast across the doorsteps of the townhouses. You had wound through the streets and ended up two streets stray from the Palace of Threads and Jewels. On a doorstep that Azriel had never seen before.

Your hood fell to your shoulders as you pushed it back gently, revealing the column of your throat and the curve of your shoulders. The faint moonlight glided across your skin, a luminous glow curling up against your collarbones. Azriel swallowed from his place in the shadows.

It was never a surprise to find you beautiful. To revere your enchanting otherworldly beauty — that Azriel was used to. And yet still, even after all these years, he had not managed to master the way it stole the breath from his lungs every time.

A familiar hunger yawned within him. He averted his eyes from you to the door.

He forced himself to take in the details, listening as his shadows whispered things his eyes could not attest. An artist's home. Damaged and rebuilt in the last battle of Velaris. The inhabitant was a Male, living alone.

Something blistered awfully inside Azriel.

Why would you visit a home such as this? Azriel could think of a few reasons that could warrant a visit so late in the evening, with your face concealed and your footsteps light. He felt his stomach turn over. Something foul burned in his gut.

The door before you opened and Azriel turned his face fast, slicing his gaze to the ground before he could see the Fae who greeted you.

Suddenly, this felt too close to an invasion of privacy. If you wished to keep your lovers a secret, as he himself did, this was a direct violation of your wishes.

That was... if this man was, indeed, your lover.

Something vulgar, something ugly reared up in his veins. Azriel clenched his fists at his sides, siphons gleaming, and willed it down.

Jealousy would not become him. Jealousy was not— did not control him.

And yet he could feel it, coursing through his blood, choking up his throat. Azriel tried to push it down, to fight against it with reason, with logic. You were promised to no Male, least of all to him. But...

But he could've sworn.

As quickly as the words appeared in his mind, Azriel stamped them down with an icy fury.

A silent curse followed them, directed at himself for his own foolishness. How many times would he walk this road before he eventually learned?

There had been no heated moments between you, no wandering eyes, no lingering hands; none that he had not imagined. None that his mind had no conjured up in its own twisted hope.

When you sought him out in the night, tormented by your own mind and how it kept you from sleep, you were seeking... a friend, Azriel realised bitterly.

There was nothing deeper to your decision to show up at his door but no one else's. Nothing was hidden in the way you chose a seat next to him at every dinner, nor the way you found a way to be beside him at the tables at Rita's.

Sitting close enough so that he could smell the alluring scent of your perfume. Could see the gleam of your bright eyes as you glanced at him after every joke, almost as if to see what might make him smile.

No. He steeled himself, shutting down every sweet moment of you he had been subconsciously collecting, holding to a greater magnitude than you clearly did.

You were not like Mor or Cassian. You did not warm the sheets of many Fae beds, slipping in and out of them without a care.

You were... alike to himself, Azriel had thought. Dedicated yourself to one.

He scowled at himself in the dark. This— this rendezvous in the dark did not dispel what he knew about you. It did not make it untrue.

It simply meant his feeble hope, that the one, the Fae you might dedicate yourself entirely was him... was just that—a hope.

It did not sway the reality of the world, the matter of truth that you crept out in the night to meet on shadowed doorsteps. Azriel felt his shadows smoking around him, spun into a frenzy at his unwelcome revelation. He snapped in his wings a little tighter.

Coming here tonight, following you, had been a mistake.

—

It seemed perfectly logical after that night for Azriel to take a step back, to rein himself in.

Not that there was not much to rein back — but the small actions reserved just for you, the unrestrained smiles, the inside jokes ribbed back at one another.

The things he had perceived as meaning more. He knew, that if he wanted to protect his heart from further ache, he should stop doing them.

But... maybe the only thing he did better than fighting, he thought grievously, was being utterly lovesick for someone who would never feel the same.

At the very least, he would hold his feelings to secrecy. It began with the smallest retractions, like weaning an addict off their favourite drug.

Azriel knew if he pulled away too quick, it would send him into a sort of withdrawal — and after all these years spent together, he wasn't sure he knew how to live with a deficit of you. Of your brazen smile and sparkling eyes.

Slow and sure. Over the next week, he willed himself to quit bothering you, to empty a space in your life so you could invite in others, those that meant more to you. So, there could be space for your new... lover.

Even the word sounded bitter in his mind.

Azriel opted for longer training in the morning. Let his sparring sessions with Cassian bleed longer and longer, not leaving the blazing hot rooftop even when Cass winds up limping inside.

He had received a halfhearted scowl from the warrior, undoubtedly for how unrelenting he had been in his fighting this week.

The time he usually sets aside for you, to read side by side in the library, to bake, to enjoy each other's company — Azriel swept it aside for you, to free up your schedule.

Noticed how you spend your free time down in Velaris. He doesn't dare tail you again.

The week crawls by slowly, stretching out thick, black tar.

Come Sunday, a day you normally reserved for spending with him, Azriel knows his extra insistence on training isn't enough of an excuse to keep you away. He trains late anyway.

True to his suspicions, it takes less than an hour for you to appear— having come to find him.

Azriel can sense you, even before his shadows murmur sweet things in his ears about the most beautiful Fae watching him through the window.

You're lingering at the door, unusually reserved. He can feel your hesitancy, even as he works his aching muscles through yet another set of exercises. His shadows stay in close, the edge of his body whispering in and out of darkness, his siphons gleaming.

You wait, watching quietly, until the sword he's wielding, a strong, broad Illyrian blade, is placed down to rest. Then, there's the soft pad of your feet as you step out into the training area. He hears you coming but he does not turn to face you.

“I've missed you this week.”

Even with his back turned, Azriel fights to keep his expression neutral, even as his eyes flutter at your admission. There's a tug on his shadows, their desire to wisp across to you proving a challenge to resist. He holds himself still, stern, and doesn't even a ruffle of his wings to indicate he's heard you.

"I—" Azriel begins. He still can't bear to turn to face you. "I'm sorry to hear that."

He can hear the noise of confusion that slips from your throat — evidently, it isn't the response you're expecting.

Azriel focuses on the sword before him, his bicep bulging as he lifts its weight and wanders to the stand of weapons. He pretends to be immersed in the decision of which to train with next, even though he's been out here for hours.

Even with his silent cold shoulder, he can still hear you behind him, your feet dragging softly across the ground in what is surely a hesitant nervous action. But still, you haven't left.

"Well, maybeee…" You continue on, voice still aiming for light and breezy, as if he hasn't been avoiding you. You're still trying.

Azriel's chest tightens up with a familiar ache, one that always lingers around you. Since seeing you that night, on another Male's doorstep, its sting has become particularly cruel. Jealousy has a cold bite.

"If you’re nearly done... I mean, if your somewhat obsessive workout regime is finally complete..."

You're winding on, taking jabs that would normally make him smile. You'd take a gentle rolling of his eyes at this point. Azriel turns to you, his face remaining passive.

"I was wondering if you wanted to come sit with me in the library," You say, voice suddenly softer now that he's facing you. "If you’re not too busy, that is.”

Azriel steels himself, eyes cutting to the ground as he forces himself to not wilt beneath your hopeful gaze. He knew it would be hard to pull himself away from you but this? This is nearing torture.

He clears his throat. “I am.”

He turns and begins to peel off the layers of Illyrian leathers from his torso, remaining diligent at keeping himself from caving to you. He can feel the ugly emotion rolling just beneath the surface, a gruesome green monster that threatens his usual composure.

Behind him, he hears your soft, saddened oh. His wings give a tiny shiver at it, even as he continues the methodical process of unwinding after training.

Piece by piece, his armor comes off, until even his shirt has been shed. His skin glistens under the shine of the afternoon sun, the muscles beneath rippling and sore from exertion.

There's a moment of silence and Azriel keeps his head bowed as he gathers himself, prepared to bathe the sweat and grime off himself. It wasn't a complete lie he had told.

Perhaps, he thinks wistfully, he could wash some of his unjust jealousy away with it. Being so unwound by his feelings is taking its toll on him, considering how unused to it he is. He waits, ears keenly listening for the sign of your departure.

After a minute of quietness, he can only assume you've slipped away silently. He sighs, half in relief and half in his sorrow.

"What are you busy doing?"

Your voice pipes up and Azriel glances behind him, surprised that you haven't left after all. His wings tuck in a little tighter.

"y/n." He murmurs your name and it comes out almost as a plea. Now, faced with you pulling apart his loose lie, Azriel finds he doesn't have it within him to lie to your face. "Please."

You don't say anything.

Azriel's shadows dance around him, agitated and frenzied, and he wills them to calm— though, that had always been an impossible request in your presence. He takes a sharp inhale and walks towards the door, leaving you behind on the rooftop.

He gets halfway down the hallway, heading for his room before your voice calls out again.

"Busy avoiding me?"

You've followed him from the training ring and now you stand at the end of the hallway, your arms crossed firmly across your chest. Your face is contorted into a hard expression, a furrow between your brows.

Azriel sighs and turns back to you. He hadn't been able to keep his secret from Mor — why, oh why did he think that he would have any more luck when it came to you?

You— enigmatic, wonderful you. Maybe, all Azriel hopes to do today is to delay the inevitable rejection for a different day. An easier day.

A day where he isn't feeling so easily undone by his the enormity of his envy. Envious of what he can't have but so desperately desires.

As he turns to face you, it's impossible to miss the way your eyes dart down to his bare chest. You stare for a moment too long and it looks like it takes an effort to drag your eyes up. You swallow heavily, the bob of your throat unmissable. Even from afar, Azriel swears there's a glow to your cheeks.

No. No, he wasn't doing that to himself anymore! He wouldn't— he couldn't be having those thoughts about you anymore. You had a lover for Mother's sake.

"I'm not—"

"Oh my Gods, don't even try to say you're not avoiding me." You interrupt him sharply. You begin to stamp your way down the hallway, eyes narrowed, your annoyance clear to see.

A door in the hallway opens. Distracted by something over his shoulder, Cassian takes a blundering loud step out into the hallway before he freezes.

He spots you first, eyes widening and wings bunching up at your obvious fury. His head turns, finding Azriel down the other end of the hallway.

"Oh... Mother, this is happening now, huh? I'm just gonna— uh, get food later." He jerks his thumb over his shoulder, quickly turning and disappearing back into his room. His door closes with a quiet snip.

In the moment of distraction, you don't notice how Azriel has moved away stealthily— his shadows aiding his quiet getaway. He's not entirely sure what his plan is; he doubts he can avoid this argument by simply shutting himself in his room. Turns out, he's selfish enough to be willing to try.

Sure enough, it takes another moment before his wings twitch, his shadows reporting on your incoming footsteps moments before he hears them himself.

He busies himself with digging through his drawers and sends a silent request to the House, praying it might keep the door locked against you.

He can do this— he can swallow down his burning heart and keep your friendship he values so dearly, he swears he can. Just not today.

He hears the door open.

Glancing up, he narrows his eyes at the House and calls it a foul word in his mind. The Faelights of his room seem to twinkle mischievously in response.

"Az," You breathe softly.

His name sounds unbearably tender coming from your lips. His wings give a little rustle, curling closer around himself.

Despite his lack of reply, you aren't deterred. He can hear your footsteps, gentle and not at all like your prior furious stomps down the hallway, as they wind around his bed.

Chest stirring with an old ache, he keeps himself facing away. He slips a shirt on and prays you give him one more day to rein in his treacherous heart. One more day. He just can't do it today.

"Did I... Did I do something?"

Your voice is suddenly a lot smaller.

Azriel softens instantly at the sound of it, feeling his resolve begin to crumble. He crushes his eyes closed and thinks of what he had seen down in Velaris — forces himself to imagine you with another Male, in his arms, in his bed.

But even if his jealousy is so terribly unwarranted, he cannot bring himself to lie to you.

"No," The word grates out his throat roughly.

Because it's the truth. You hadn't done anything wrong and— and Azriel refused to hurt you just because he couldn't contain a few rampant feelings.

"Really?" The tinge of annoyance is back in your words and Azriel can't even blame you.

"Because then why it is that you have been avoiding me since— since the day I was-"

You cut your own words off and Azriel fills in the blank on his own. Since the day down in the city—where I saw you entering another Male's home, hidden in your cloak, like you were meeting a lover— and even though you're completely allowed to do that, I am like every other gods forsaken jealous Male in Prythian, getting upset over this, even if you are not truly mine.

He turns to you finally, his hands clenched at his side and he wills the next sentence out.

"What or who you choose to spend your free time with—" He inhales a long breath, forcing his face to remain neutral even as he feels his teeth grit together. "—is none of my concern."

Your face scrunches up, confused. Then the furrow between your eyebrows is back and Azriel feels a tad nervous. You aren't often angry, least of all with him.

"Cauldron boil me," You bury your face into your hands for a second. Then you drag them down languidly with a groan, peeking up at him over your hands.

"Did you follow me?"

Azriel feels a bit off-guard. His voice isn't as sure when he says, "It is my duty to survey my court."

You bristle a little at that and the nervousness within him grows a little bigger.

"'Who I choose to spend my time with?'" You repeat his words back to him with a tone of incredulity, your hands motioning wildly before you. Faintly, Azriel begins to sense the feeling of foolishness rising within him.

"For Mother's sake, Az, I was buying you a birthday gift, not sleeping with him!"

The moment the words burst from your lips, two things happen. Azriel stiffens, the true nature of your stealthy endeavor through Velaris making a fool of him indeed.

You were... cloaked and hidden because you had been planning a surprise. For him. For his birthday. Something he hadn't even considered was around the corner as it held no high merit with him. His eyes widen and his lips part an inch.

And you — you straighten up, eyes wide, looking as though you've been struck by lightning.

"You were jealous." You gasp.

Not a question, a statement.

"No," Azriel denies, without thinking. His heart rabbits in his chest. The irony of acting out the way he did, because jealousy had blinded him in the first place, is not lost on him.

Suddenly, all his envy is washed away, replaced quickly by a bumbling foolish embarrassment. He wishes he could winnow out of the House. He considers the window behind him for a moment, if only to spare himself from revealing his true feelings to you.

One glance back at your face, your expression edging towards crestfallen, and any thoughts of running away vanishes.

"Yes." He quickly amends, voice meek.

His wings give a little shudder, twisting in closer as he realises what he's admitted aloud. How there was no coming back from this.

No one had ever made him as loose-tongued as you do. Azriel is embarrassed to be caught stumbling over his words.

"I realise..." He croaks out, suddenly finding the slats of the floorboards immensely more interesting. His shadows have slowed from their nervous frenzy, making lazy motions instead, as if to soothe him. "That may not be ideal. My feelings, that is."

A beat of silence. Azriel studies a spot on the floor intently. His heart flounders wildly behind his ribs. His embarrassment seeps something closer to mortification.

Your shoes peek into the edge of his vision and Azriel's head shifts up slowly, his hazel eyes finding yours and burning into them.

His shadows whisper a thousand things to him — but all of them are dulled, quietened, as he simply stares at you. Feels something between the pair of you hang in the balance, just a breeze from unraveling.

Your eyes are bright. Acutely, he realises he can smell relief rolling off you in heavy waves. Amongst it, too, is a hint of... happiness. Happiness.

“Oh, you big Illyrian baby,” You coo, a teasing lilt to your tone.

His cheeks grow warm. Something white-hot tips down his spine as you step in closer, swaying into his space. He can smell the alluring scent of you and his heart thrums in his chest at your nearness, aching to be closer.

"Some spymaster you are, huh?" You say, voice barely above a whisper.

Azriel stays silent but his head tilts to the side just an inch in his puzzlement, his eyebrows knitting together. Hazel eyes peer at you with such an intensity that it sends goosebumps crawling across your skin— his eyes searching your face for answers to his thousand questions.

"Knowing everything except for this." You continue, words feather-soft.

You don’t say what this is but Azriel thinks he knows. Hopes he knows. His hands at his sides clench tighter, his fingers curled up into fists, and the motion catches your attention.

Moving so slowly, you reach out and gingerly take his wrist between your delicate fingers. Azriel lets you. A whine crawls up in the back of his throat and his swallows it back down.

He watches closely as you pull his hand up, forward, cradling it with your own two. His fingers twitch, so unfamiliar with such tender touches.

The shadows scouring around his shoulders burst into a frenzy, circling down his arms and twirling around your intertwined hands. It's as though they're... dancing, Azriel thinks.

"I... hoped." He admits quietly, his voice full of longing.

You shift his mottled hand, turning it gently so his palm is facing yours. Then you hold your own up against it, like you're comparing hand sizes.

Azriel can barely tear his eyes off where your hand presses into his to look up at you. Something molten hot begins to scorch through his veins. A realisation. A dream that may be finally answered. It feels like pure starlight.

Your hand is dwarfed against his own scarred one — and when Azriel curls his fingers, they hug the top of yours gently. You press back against his hand, like the smallest hug back.

You murmur back. "You don't need hope."

Your gaze skirts up from your joined hands, your lips twitching into a nervous smile.

Your eyebrows have drawn together in the middle, just a bit, as though what's happening is something you find devastatingly beautiful. As though you think that way about him. About the two of you, together.

Azriel finds himself thinking of all he would give in the world —all the mountains he'd move and dragons he'd slay— for you to keep looking at him that way.

"You already have me."

#i'm so on the fence on whether i like this one ! >.<#but i do think he would be sooooo foolish once he got jealous #esp if u were nearly a thing but not quite #and i do think he wouldn't have a kiss. just a handhold #when u two finally come together :")#azriel x you #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowsinger x reader #azriel x reader #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger x you #acotar

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florencemtrash · 3 months

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In a year's time - Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Angst, jealous Azriel, fluff

Masterlist of Masterlists

"But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him."

Mor narrowed her eyes at the Shadowsinger, watching as he adjusted the collar of his newly tailored suit jacket and then combined his hair back with scarred fingers.

Azriel had always been annoyingly beautiful - even during their middling years when their voices cracked and they hadn’t yet grown into their long, slender limbs - and so he’d never needed to take special care of his appearance. His hair dried in perfect waves, his skin was smooth and clean despite the scars, and his training had carved out a silhouette as strong and capable as it was alluring. So why did he keep smoothing down his waistcoat like he was nervous?

Mor darted out a tongue, cleaning up the drop of wine that threatened to fall from her ruby red lips, “Azriel? What in the Mother’s name are you doing?”

His eyes barely flicked over to where she lay sprawled out on his bed. She had no intention of attending this ball sober, and if the near empty bottle of wine balanced precariously against her knee was any indication, she would exceed her goal before they even stepped outside his bedroom.

He picked up the tie - midnight blue and hand-embroidered with silver thread - and flung it around his neck.

“Getting ready for the ball.” He answered blandly.

She rolled her eyes, “Obviously,” then continued to stare at him expectantly as he finished knotting the tie, folded his pocket square, and then slid his weapons into place as a last measure, cobalt blue siphons flashing from the backs of his hands.

It clicked all at once as he strolled for the door, forcing Mor to abandon the glass and drink straight from the bottle.

“Oh my gods.” She said, mouth agape. Her shoes clicked along the marble floors of the River House like the beating of drums.

Azriel groaned internally. Even tipsy and wearing seven-inch heels, Mor kept up with his long strides easily, prodding his side accusingly with her wine bottle. It magically refilled itself with every jab.

“You’re trying to impress Y/n!”

Suddenly it was as obvious as the sun rising in the east. He’d chosen the tie you complimented him on last Starfall, despite his hatred of its fanciful nature. He was wearing the silver moonstone cufflinks you’d bought him for his birthday. He’d even combed his hair because he knew you’d notice and muss it up for him.

“Mor-” He warned, color beginning to dust his cheeks. His shadows darted around the hallway, climbing the velvet curtains and peering around the corners to watch for any potential eavesdropping.

“I knew it! I knew it!” She said, swatting him with a frustrated hand. Her red silk dress clung to her waist and thighs before fluttering out in a halo around her knees as she chased after him, aiming to slap him across the head.

Azriel stopped in his tracks and grabbed at her wrists, desperately hoping no one else in the house had left their rooms yet. If he was really lucky, the two mated couples would be making enough noise of their own to drown out Mor’s excitement.

“Mor, stop it. And be quiet.”

“You loooove her.” She crowed, dragging out the sound. Suddenly she straightened up, hands on her hips and frowning, “Is that why you’ve been so irritable lately? Because you miss her?”

Azriel said nothing, gave away nothing, even though Mor had hit the nail on the head in her drunken stupor.

It had been a great honor when Thesan offered to take you under his wing and train you personally. More than a favor to Rhysand, he’d seen your healing talent and wanted your expertise to be well represented in the Dawn Court. So a year ago you’d packed up your things and said your goodbyes.

“It’s only temporary.” You’d promised him, “I’ll be back before you know it. In a year’s time.”

But a lot could change in a year. You’d sent plenty of letters back and forth to each other, and Azriel would be loath to admit that he slept with them clutched against his chest every night so whispers of your scent would chase the nightmares away.

But for all he knew you could have fallen for some dashing golden warrior, or found that you preferred your shiny, new friends over him - that you’d found a quieter city full of fae that stole your heart as well as your attention away from him.

He was happy for you and had been the one to encourage you to move to Dawn. But that didn’t mean he didn’t miss you terribly. You’d been missing from his side like a torn limb, and Azriel had been walking through life at a crooked angle ever since.

“I don’t-” He sighed, he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t love you. He just couldn’t, “It’s none of your business, Mor.” He amended.

He released her wrists breezed past her, but she sprinted ahead of him, splaying her limbs out on the staircase to block his path.

“You need to tell her you love her. Tonight.” She commanded. Her words slurred out gently, the faerie wine finally kicking in when she’d wanted it to. “I mean it, Az.”

He shook his head, “I can’t tell her tonight.”

“Why not?”

“I haven’t seen her in a year! I can’t drop that kind of truth on her.”

“Yes you can!” She fought back. There was some muddled piece of information hanging at the edges of her mind, something important she needed to tell Az. But the wine held it back. Fuck. She cursed inwardly.

“No. I. Can’t.”

“Yes. You. Can.” She was practically seething, pearly brown eyes unfocused but unrelenting. She knows something I don’t, Azriel realized in a burst of shock.

“What is it, Mor? What did she tell you?”

She blinked, dropping her arms from the burnt umber railings. His heart quickened. Had his worst fears come true? Had you found someone else in Dawn worth staying for?

“I-” Damn it. She shouldn’t have finished the second bottle. She cradled it protectively against her chest, feeling the glass cool her hot skin, “I don’t fucking remember.”

“What do you mean you don’t remember?”

“I mean, I’m drunk, Az. And drunk Mor doesn’t remember shit.”

His heart quickened further, a crushing sense of guilt and loss wrapping around his chest like a corset and tightening. Mor at least was saved from further useless interrogation when Rhysand and Feyre bounded out from down the hallway, tastefully disheveled and looking sinful in Night Court black.

Rhysand cleared his throat, straightening his dinner jacket and absent-mindedly straightening Feyre’s crown for her, “Everyone ready to leave?” His eyes glazed over, calling out to the last missing members of their party.

Cassian and Nesta spilled out of their room next, the braids of her coronet slipping out and spilling over her heaving chest. Azriel tipped his head to the ceiling and cursed silently. Mother have mercy…

Nesta pulled up on the strap of her lace dress, only to find that it had been torn to ribbons.

Cassian was in no better shape - the collar of his white shirt was smeared with lipstick, although he didn’t have the same sense as Nesta to look annoyed at the interruption to their… activities. A toothy grin bloomed on his face, shoulder-length hair tangled like someone had been yanking it for hours.

“Can’t make it tonight, Rhys.” He said. He glanced down at Nes, “I’m not feeling well.”

“Me neither.” Nesta said hastily, slipping back behind the door and hauling Cassian inside with her like he weighed as light as a feather. Four months after their mating ceremony and they were as insatiable as ever.

“You’re full of shit, Cass!” Rhys called out just before the door slammed shut. A muffled Fuck you! Came from within, followed by a, Tell Y/n we’ll see her at home! From Nesta.

They winnowed to the outskirts of Daybreak Hill, landing in a field of cushiony moss dotted with pink and violet heather that stirred in the breeze like the dusk-painted clouds above.

Feyre sighed deeply, breathing in the scent of lavender and rosewater. She loved Velaris and no one could hold a candle to the beauty of the Night Court… except perhaps Dawn.

It was like someone had laid a mirror flat on the earth. Periwinkle skies kissed rolling sage green hills dotted with red-roofed villages and sank into lakes of pearl and lavender until it was impossible to tell where the sky started or ended.

The Dawn Court Palace’s twisting spires of honey marble glowed brighter than the setting sun. So brightly in fact that Mor had to help shield Azriel’s eyes with her soft hands as he carried them up through low-hanging satin clouds. Dots of scarlet and midnight black soaring through cotton skies.

His hands turned clammy and the tightness in his chest felt like a giant’s fist squeezing his heart, but he convinced himself it was the thin air that was responsible, and not the raging longing in his heart for you. Still, he had to appreciate the beauty of the red-roofed villages below, tinkering hands hard at work inside chestnut workshops filled with glistening bronze and copper.

They dove through the columns into the open-air hall, any dampness from the mist magicked away by Thesan’s careful hands as he stepped down from the golden dias to greet his honored guests. His rich, copper-colored skin radiated light, melting with the darkness that rippled off Rhysand and Feyre’s shoulders as they shook hands and exchanged the usual pleasantries.

Mor stretched her silky arms above her hands, catching the eyes of a cherub-faced female reaching to grab a flute from the champagne tower. Normally, Mor would have been flattered, but with Emerie at home and a wine-drunk haze over her mind, she was feeling more anxious than anything else. What the fuck was it that she was trying to remember?

Faelights bloomed above him, tinkered in the shapes of roses that gently pulsed, fluttering petals propelling them across the room in a sway of light.

But Azriel was barely paying attention. His eyes skimmed the crowd, searching for a silhouette he knew as intimately as the ridges of his hands.

There.

You stood across the room, half-hidden in the stone archway beside Thesan’s lover, Herades. You bowed your head towards him in silent conversation, nursing a glass of champagne in your hand to try and cool your nerves. Azriel would be arriving soon, if he wasn’t already here, cradling the walls in search of dark corners like he was bound to do. You’d been imagining all the ways you’d greet him - with a joke, with a meaningful embrace, with a kiss. You shook her head, pushing the last thought out of your mind and focusing on Herades’s story again.

Your laugh was a flare of light blooming at the end of a match. Azriel stared utterly captivated. Time moved slower than syrup when you finally met his eyes and smiled with an affection more precious than gold.

“Az!” You squeezed Herades’s arm, politely excusing yourself, and then you were off. You sprang across the room in a billow of cream fabric, like milk poured into coffee. The tips of your pleated skirts were touched with blue like you’d waded out into the night sky. The color matched the ribbon in your hair, and the siphons of a certain lovestruck Shadowsinger.

“Y/n,” He breathed out. You flowed into his arms and he gathered you into them like a bouquet of wildflowers, breathing in your familiar scent of rosemary and peppermint. Gods I missed you. He whispered in his mind, hoping that somehow you’d hear it at the end of that glowing thread.

But the hug was short-lived. Too short-lived.

“Mor!” You sang in that melodic voice he loved so much, grasping for her next, then Rhys, then Feyre.

Thesan looked on humbly, sighing faintly when Herades caught up to you and immediately slid to Thesan’s side.

“Oh I’ve missed you all so much.” You said, rocking back and forth.

“We missed you,” Feyre said into your hair. She was the one to pull away, smoothing out ribbon and giving you a once-over look.

Your time had been well-spent at the Dawn Court. Extra color bronzed your cheeks and tinted your lips a pale berry shade. You stood up straighter, smiled a little wider, and walked with an extra height to your step. You’d always been beautiful and graceful, but it was like you were aware of it now - like you’d grown the last few inches into your body.

“You look lovely, Y/n.” Feyre said and Mor agreed enthusiastically, commenting on your dress and your hair and your… well everything.

“Thank you,” You said, blushing, “Thesan’s treated me very well.”

That was an understatement. He’d set you up in his personal household, paid you handsomely (even more than Rhysand paid you if that were possible), and had had the royal seamstress sew ten dresses for you to pick from for tonight’s ball alone. It was your party after all in commemoration of the advancements you’d made in child birthing practices. You’d handled twelve pregnancies alone in the past year across Dawn and Winter, all of the children delivered safely and as plump and rosy as summer cherries.

“And you’ve repaid it to my court ten-fold.” Thesan said and held up his drink. Even Herades smiled, tawny feathers flaring out with pride. You were responsible for the safety of his sister-in-law and the birth of his nephew - hawk wings and all.

It was a flurry of activity following the Night Court’s fashionably late arrival. You dragged Azriel and Mor up to the dais after Rhys and Feyre. Traditionally the table was only meant for High Lords and their partners, but Thesan was a unique and progressive leader in more ways than one.

Herades and Thesan sat in the middle with Feyre and Rhysand, leaving you, Azriel, and Mor at one end and Thesan’s sister and her husband at the other.

Azriel was eternally grateful when Mor lunged for the center-most seat, forcing you to sit between her and Azriel. You bumped knees with him, leaning close as you whispered about the Court gossip you’d managed to overhear from the cooks or discussing the progress you’d made in the Winter Court.

Course after course appeared in front of him and disappeared, hardly touched. He wasn’t hungry for anything other than you, focusing on the crease within your brows as you tried to remember all the news you couldn’t write to him about or the twist of your perfect, flushed lips as you displayed your displeasure and your joy.

If he believed himself to be worthy of your affection he would have whisked you away hours ago, disappearing into whichever room in the palace was yours and pressing you against the wall, lip-locked until the need for air forced him to stop.

“How are Kallias and Viviane doing?” Mor asked, perking up at the mention of the Winter Court.

You smiled, your cheeks flushing with color, “I’m not supposed to say, Mor, so you must promise not to tell anyone. Anyone.” Mor locked her mouth and threw away the key. Your lips brushed against the sharp curve of her ear, “She’s pregnant.”

Mor clapped a hand over her mouth, nearly upsetting the glass of wine balanced precariously on the edge of the table. One of Azriel’s shadows darted out, pushing it safely out of the way of her swaying arms.

“Stop.” She hissed in disbelief. Her golden hair seemed to brighten with her cheeks.

You nodded, “With twins.”

Tears flooded her eyes, “That wench didn’t tell me.”

“She’s been busy, if you can imagine.”

“Still!” Mor muttered under her breath, eating her food slowly and sipping on her wine quickly. She gave up on being sober the more males approached her from the base of the dais, bowing deeply with proud, puffed up chests and asking for a dance. Word had gone around about her… preferences, and far from dissuading suitors, it seemed to have been offered up as a challenge as to who could change her mind. Thank the gods Emerie had declined the invitation to join them. She would have castrated half these males in an instant, if Mor didn’t beat her to it.

Thesan, gratefully, put an end to it once he caught onto the pattern. One sharp look from him sent them scampering back, coattails between their legs.

There was one final male though who ignored the previous warnings, humbly bleeding out of the crowd as remnants of rose cake disappeared from the tables and the quartet swelled to include twelve musicians plus a singer. Full, cream-colored wings hovered above the ground, tawny-tipped and lush. Even Mor had to admit, with his olive skin, amber eyes, and warm honey curls he was stunning. Like liquid gold poured out of the setting sun.

He bowed deeply, a subtle smile on his face. Azriel went rigid, seeing you lean forward out of the corner of his eye with a blush coating your cheeks.

Mor closed her eyes and groaned. Fuuuuuuuck. That’s what she’d forgotten about. Or rather whom she’d forgotten about.

Naemon - the golden boy who’d begun to court you seven months back. You’d dropped his name only a handful of times in your letters to Mor. Not enough times to convince Mor you were actually taken with him, but enough times for her to remember the bastard’s name.

“Y/n,” His voice was silky smooth and kind, “May I have the first dance with you?” He asked politely.

Your breath caught in your throat and you risked a glance over at Azriel. He looked… bored and unaffected. He reached for his glass, looking more interested in the faerie wine than the male who’d just asked for your hand. It was stupid of you to think he would care for you as anything more than a friend, and even more foolish of you to think he might be jealous.

You pushed away from the table and floated down the dais, taking the strong and sturdy hand Naemon offered you. The first song was too spirited and quick to reveal any true feelings. It was a blur of silks and lean arms as you wove through the sea of dancers and were gently tossed from partner to partner. But the second song was slower, more intimate. Naemon flashed a look of gratitude to the singer, who winked in return, before scooping one arm around your waist, hand flat on the small of your back. You rested one hand on his shoulder, feeling the rolling of muscle beneath his crisp linen tunic, and held his free hand.

Naemon was a kind and gentle male. After the death of his parents, he’d all but raised his younger sister Namia on his own, relying on the money he earned in the Peregryn legion to make ends meet. It was his care for his sister that had first drawn him to you - any misgivings he’d had melting away as you grew close to Namia from among the other healers. You’d supported her throughout her pregnancy, become her friend, and served as a balm to his anxieties whenever his duties took him away for long stretches of time.

You looked down bashfully, apologizing for missing one of the dance steps and crushing his toe, “I’m better at the quicksteps.” You explained.

Naemon smiled brilliantly, and you couldn’t stop the faint flutter in your chest, “I can’t blame you. The slow ones can get boring. Leaves too much time for overthinking.”

“Exactly.” Too much time for overthinking about a certain Shadowsinger.

You’d never given Naemon any false pretenses about your feelings, always reminding him and Namia that your position in Dawn was temporary. But still… It felt nice to be courted by someone as open as him. With Naemon you never had to guess whether he wanted you or not - you knew he did. The flowers he often left in the healer’s temple, or the offers to take you out to dinner or to dances like this one proved it.

A curl of guilt coiled in your stomach. Maybe now was a good time to bow out and return to your seat. Surely the slow waltz would be finishing soon. The-

“You’re overthinking again.” Naemon said, his full lips brushing against the sharp curve of your ear and heating the gold cuffs you wore. “I don’t want you to worry about anything, Y/n. If you’re enjoying yourself - if you like dancing with me - keep doing it.”

“Naemon-” You began apologetically.

He shook his head, “Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” He said honestly, “I just want to dance with you tonight. Nothing more. Nothing less.”

You stared into his eyes, finding nothing but truth in them. A portion of your nerves melted away and you found that when the cello began to hum out a simple tune, you were still holding onto him and letting him move you through the next movements.

Azriel was barely holding on by a thread. Wine glass now empty and clenched dangerously between shadow covered hands. Rhys shot him a look, and when his attempts to breach his brother’s mental shields were met with resistance, he turned to Mor.

What’s wrong with him? His eyes flashed the question.

He’s being an ass who can’t come to terms with his emotions. Mor grumbled back, sinking into her seat with a fling of yellow-gold waves.

Rhys’s eyes went from confused to wide open as he shot a look to you across the dance floor. Fuck.

Feyre followed her mate’s attention with a look of concern, and then traced Azriel’s steely gaze to the dance floor where you were smiling reservedly up at Naemon. You two made a handsome couple, weaving a clear path through the other dancers as they parted for his magnificent feathered wings.

Azriel stiffened. He’d never been particularly proud of his Illyrian heritage, but his wings… his wings were one of the few true beauties he possessed. But in comparison to the golden-boy warrior that smiled at you and brushed back a loose strand of hair with his soft hands, Azriel found himself lacking… once again.

Naemon was a gentle breeze where Azriel was blistering wind. He was a wide open door, every look he gave you filled with clear affection. Azriel was a dozen locked boxes, each one nestled within the other with all the keys rusted and thrown away. Naemon looked reserved and in control. Azriel felt completely out of it, and it took every inch of willpower to keep the mating bond from driving him mad enough to launch across the dancefloor and bruise Naemon’s high, perfect cheekbones.

But then the dance ended and Naemon parted from you long enough to reach behind his back and pluck a feather from his wing. A few shocked gasps scattered throughout the room. Even Thesan and Herades looked on with raised eyebrows, leaning close enough to touch.

The feather was a beauty - the length of Naemon’s forearm and such a pure white it glimmered like moonlight. You froze, staring down at the treasure he offered you with bated breath.

Peregryns were fiercely protective of their wings and rightfully so. To be allowed near them alone was a great honor. To touch them was an intimate act reserved for family members and lovers. To be offered a feather?! In some circles it was akin to being gifted a thousand roses. In other circles it was tantamount to a marriage proposal.

Both offers were completely overwhelming to you.

“Naemon-” You began carefully, backing away, “I-I can’t.”

He smiled softly, eyes flashing briefly up to the dias where the Shadowsinger had gotten up to his feet, something like desperation and longing buried deep beneath the layers of his hazel eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, Y/n.” Naemon said resignedly, “But please, take this,” He begged, spreading open your fingers before curling them again around the feather, “For everything you’ve done for my family.”

And because I love you, even if you don’t love me back - were the words he didn’t say aloud.

“Naemon-” A shadow fell over your feet, curling around your ankles and skirts and tugging you away like a child seeking attention.

Naemon, for all his relative youth and gentle disposition, didn’t seem surprised or affected by the Shadowsinger’s presence. Azriel hovered close behind you, eyes blown open and desperate.

Please don’t. He silently begged. Please don’t say yes to him.

He almost melted with relief when Naemon only dipped his head in acknowledgement and kissed the palm of your hands. Even that innocent touch made Azriel’s stomach turn.

You turned when Naemon finally disappeared into the crowd. “Azriel, I-”

You had half a mind to hide the feather behind your back, but you couldn’t do such a cruel thing to Naemon. And it wasn’t like Azriel hadn’t watched the whole thing unfold in front of him. You clasped the feather in your hands, careful not to ruffle the delicate barbs.

Azriel was no longer bored and unaffected. In fact he seemed unnaturally flustered and nervous.

He swallowed thickly, mindful of the curious stares you were attracting. Not only had you just been proposed to, but now you were being approached by a male from your past after an ambiguous response - you’d accepted the feather, but Naemon had left alone. The court gossips would have a field day, if they weren’t already.

“Y/n,” He said, his voice thin and quiet. A mere whisper among the riff raff that was steadily building up again in a crescendo, “Can we please talk?” His wings fluttered nervously, and he shot a dangerous look at a male who came too close to you, “In private? Please?”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You’d barely recovered from Naemon’s dramatic display and you were scared about what Azriel might offer next.

Still you mumbled, “Oh-um… yes.”

The words were barely out of your mouth before Azriel’s hand was on your wrist, delicately leading you through the crowd towards the archway and into the hallway beyond. Fae mingled about in their finery, happy to escape the music and the sweep of dancers.

Azriel scowled. This was hardly any more private.

“My quarters are further down this hall,” You offered, pointing down a sky bridge that connected the public wings of the palace to the private ones. Azriel exhaled in relief, nodding and following you as you cut through unfamiliar halls draped in rich reds, golds, and turquoises.

You stopped at a door of solid oak, hand painted to look like it had been lifted from the pages of a storybook. Resplendent gold filigree traced the footsteps of maidens running along hills dense with colorful flora. Water trickled down from the mountain tops, so realistic that Azriel was amazed to find the handwoven carpets in your room were dry.

You peered down the hall before closing the door with a gentle whisper. Only the songbirds nesting in the high crevices bore witness to your activities.

You hesitated and then tucked the feather into one of the empty jewelry boxes on the vanity. Out of sight, but not out of mind.

Azriel stood motionless by the door, watching as you closed the box and slid it back against the mirror.

“Did you say yes?” He whispered, hating the way his voice caught in his throat, “Do you love him?”

You turned around quickly, the length of ribbon in your hair rippling through the air to land on your collarbone. Azriel was upon you in an instant close enough for you to feel his shallow breathing, but all he did was trace the blue ribbon with his fingers and then push it back over your shoulder.

“I don’t-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You stuttered and your face burned with feeling. Azriel had asked you for privacy so he could ask you about Naemon?

Azriel clenched his fists once. Twice. “The male you were dancing with. The feather-”

You blushed deeply, turning your face away to hide your embarrassment. You had hoped he didn’t know about that Peregryn custom.

He gently gripped your chin with his thumb and forefinger, pulling your gaze back to him. You blinked in surprise. For once Azriel looked… scared.

“Did you say yes to him? Please. Tell me.”

If you had said yes he might just shrivel up into nothing on the spot. Why had he waited so long to tell you his feelings? Why had he waited so long to tell you about the bond? But if he did it now it would just be terrible timing all around. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You shook your head and Azriel’s wings dropped in relief, eyes closing as he murmured a quiet thanks to the Mother beneath his breath.

“He-it wasn’t even a real proposal. He gave it to me as thanks for helping his sister. That’s all.”

He gave you a pointed look like he knew you were lying. There was no questioning Naemon’s feelings for you. No questioning at all.

“You never answered my second question.”

You crumpled under his gaze. Gods, he looked beautiful tonight. Torturously so. It wasn’t fair. Naemon had loved you openly, never given you cause to doubt his intentions nor made you feel guilty for not returning his feelings. And yet here you were, still pining after the male who’d never seen you as more than a friend. A male whose intentions were never clear. A male who always made you question how well you knew him, and whether those small touches and reserved smiles and affectionate letters were just a polite kindness or something more.

“No.” It felt wrong of you to admit it so callously, even if it was the truth, “No I don’t love him.”

Azriel looked ready to kiss the ground and something about that set a fire within you. Leave it to Azriel to ignore any romantic advances from you, to chase after other females left and right for literal centuries, and then get upset the moment another male found you appealing.

You huffed, pushing him away harshly and crossing your arms over your chest, “It’s none of your business anyhow. I’m allowed to have my lovers and my almost lovers. And if you truly thought Naemon was proposing to me, I don’t know why you’d want to fucking interrupt it!”

Azriel flinched at the coldness in your voice, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how did you mean it, Az?” You exclaimed, clearly irritated now, “Gods, you never just say what you mean.”

Azriel tried again, grasping at straws. “I would never judge you for your choices, even if you said yes to him or-I just-fuck.”

On any other day you’d be laughing. Azriel was a male of few words, but the words he did say were always perfect and calculated. Nothing about this was calculated or thought out.

“I… you’re my best friend, Y/n. And I haven’t seen you in over a year. I just…” He cringed. Hard. Cauldron boil him. He was doing this terribly, “I was scared.” He finally admitted, and rather pathetically.

“Scared?” You dropped your arms. That wasn’t the answer you’d been expecting, “Scared of what? You’re hardly ever afraid of anything.”

He shrank away, hands clasped tightly behind his back, “That you’d leave me-us. That you’d find a reason to stay here instead of returning to Velaris. And when I saw you dancing with him tonight - the way he was looking at you and the way you were looking at him - I thought… I thought Naemon would be that reason.”

Now you were confused and even more irate than before.

You stalked up to him, jabbing his chest with an accusatory finger, “You were the one who encouraged me to do this. You were the one constantly writing to me about the importance of making friends and “putting myself out there.” You were the one who practically shoved me out the door when I left-”

“Because I thought you wanted this!”

“I did! I-I do!”

“Then what was I supposed to do, Y/n?!” He cried out. His shadows, which had been held back so tightly on a leash throughout the night, exploded outward, coating the bright colors of your bedspread and the rugs and the curtains in inky black. They swirled there, as agitated and timid as their master.

“What was I supposed to do?” He whispered again. He sounded tired. Defeated. “I couldn’t… I couldn’t hold you back from what you wanted. From the happiness and opportunities you deserve.”

“You could’ve at least said something! You could’ve at least told me that you were upset with me leaving. That you were going to miss me and that you-you-”

That you love me and that you wanted me to stay. You shoved the thought out of your mind, slamming the door and turning the lock. Useless, lovestruck pipedreams would do you no good now.

“Instead you just pushed me out the door and it’s been nothing but empty letters from you since.”

“They weren’t empty.” Azriel said weakly. He’d never been a man of words or poetry, but in that moment he desperately wished he was. “And I did miss you. Y/n, I missed you so much some days it felt like I couldn’t breathe.”

You deflated, your anger slowly ebbing away like the ocean during low tide. Sometimes you forgot that beneath all those hard-won layers of shadow and muscle, Azriel was still that little boy that had been abandoned in a cellar and taught to believe he was worthless. A waste of time and a waste of space. Nothing more than an inconvenient bastard.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I thought you were all doing fine. That I’d come back and it would be like nothing had ever changed. I would’ve-I would’ve made time to visit. Or-or come back sooner.”

Azriel chuckled without humour. He had not been “doing fine” without you. He hadn’t been “doing fine” since the moment you’d stepped across the doorway and winnowed out of Velaris.

“You make it sound like I was going away forever.” You added softly.

“It felt like it.” Azriel admitted quietly, “I always worried there was a chance you’d decide you liked things better in Dawn. That you liked the people better. So when I saw you with Naemon I just…” His voice trailed off and he slowly backed up to your bed, sinking down into the pillowy comforter. Even the beds seemed softer and kinder here. Softer and kinder than him.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

He felt the bed dip beside him, your knee pressing against his in a burst of warmth. The blue tipped pleats of your dress slowly waved with his shadows as they once again curled around your feet, inching up your dress and closer and closer to your hands. Now that he was looking down he noticed the shoes you were wearing - cobalt blue with matching velvet ribbons tied up your calf. Same as your dress. Same as the ribbon in your hair.

“I wanted to believe you wore those colors for me tonight.” He said quietly, aching for your touch. Your hands were so close to his he could almost imagine that-

You covered his hands with your own, smoothing the rough skin with gentle caresses, “I did.”

It had seemed like such a stupidly hopeful choice at the time - some not-so-subtle declaration of love for all the months you’d spent apart - but when the seamstress had laid out all the dresses, you’d taken one look at the cobalt blue accents and the shoes and snatched them up in a heartbeat.

Azriel’s eyes were wider, more open, than the moon, shimmering with disbelief and hope, “You did?” He whispered.

“I did. They reminded me of you.” You stopped looking him in the eyes. It felt like too much. Too much emotion. Too much feeling. “I missed you too, you know.”

Azriel stayed quiet for a long while, sorting out the myriad of feelings roiling in his chest and trying to latch onto a single coherent thought. Finally he murmured, “I guess we could both work on saying things outright.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head and wiping at the corners of your eyes, “Yes. I guess we could.”

“We could start now.” Azriel offered hesitantly. His heart hammered away in his chest like a blacksmith at his anvil until he was sure his sternum would crack.

You raised your eyebrows. Curious.

“The next five minutes. We say everything honestly. No holding back.”

“I don’t know, Az. I-”

“Please.” He begged, holding onto your hands a little tighter. His shadows had traveled all the way up to your waist now, ghosting over flesh that he didn’t dare touch. He didn’t want to lose you. He’d thought he could handle being apart from you physically - that it would be no different from the decades he’d spent quietly loving you from right by your side - but he’d been horribly wrong. And he didn’t want to risk another, better male than Naemon coming to whisk you away before he had the chance to do things properly. To do things honestly.

His hands were shaking now, gripping your hands like you were the anchor to his ship trapped in raging waters, “I’ll start.”

“Ok.” You whispered, leaning a little closer.

Azriel swallowed and tried to stop the trembling in his hands and in his voice. In this he managed quite well, falling into a rigid, flat silence.

“I love you. I’ve loved you for years now, actually.” He dared to look at you. Your lips were parted in shock and he wished he could taste them, “Is that…is that ok?”

“Is that ok?” You repeated dumbly. “Is that ok?” You repeated a little louder, “Are you serious, Azriel?”

“Y-Yes?” He was trembling again, face open and terrified. He was offering you up his heart on a platter and praying to the Mother you wouldn’t crush it beneath those velvet blue shoes. Even if you did, he would find some solace in knowing you were the one to destroy him. He loved you so dearly that it was only within your right to do so.

Your lips broke in a stuttered smile, opening and closing like you didn’t quite know what to do. “I never thought I’d hear you say that. I’d hoped you might feel that way but I… I was never sure. I…” You cradled his face in your hands, tracing the curve of his jaw and his cheekbones with your fingertips, “I love you too, Azriel. I love you so much.” Your voice cracked, silver gathering in your eyes no matter how fiercely you tried to blink them away, “Gods, Az, you don’t even know.”

He gripped you close enough enough to bruise, arms locked around your waist and hands laid flat on your back. It was a sweet pain that grew even sweeter when you kissed him, searching for breath like you’d find it in his lungs. Azriel was just as desperate, ravenous even as he tugged at your clothes and flipped you flat on the bed. He wanted your lips again. You tasted like strawberries and cream, and he was starving.

He climbed on top, slotting himself between your legs as you yanked him close.

“Your hair,” You muttered, “It’s too neat.” The next minute was all teeth from Azriel as you mussed up his hair and he grinned wildly against your lips.

“Five-” He groaned, sinking further into you when you wrapped your legs around his waist, “Five minutes aren’t-” He propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at your flushed face as you gasped for breath and finally untangled your hands from his hair, “Five minutes aren’t up yet.”

“You’ve been keeping track?” You dropped your head back on the bed with a disgruntled hmph. Had he been counting the whole time he’d been kissing you?

He kissed your chest, then the sensitive skin of your neck. But there wasn’t any expectation in the brush of his lips, just quiet, honest love.

You raised your head, finding that Azriel once again looked scared. “There’s something else I need to tell you.” He said seriously. “Before… before anything else.”

You drew yourself onto your elbows, craning your neck for one more kiss, “You can tell me, Az. You can tell me anything.”

The bond sang in his chest like a songbird in a cage. It wanted to be released. To be acknowledged in words if it couldn’t be acknowledged through feeling at this moment. Because Azriel knew you didn’t feel it yet. You didn’t feel the burning he felt in his chest that made it hard to breathe when you weren’t around.

What if she doesn’t want this? What if she doesn’t want me? Azriel swallowed thickly, tears springing into his eyes. He wanted so desperately to be worthy of you - to be the kind and gentle lover and mate that you deserved. He’d been born crooked even before he’d been tossed into that cellar, before his half-brothers had set his hands on fire. But… but he was yours completely. He’d offer whatever meager, broken shards of himself that he could in hopes it might be enough.

“Az,” You whispered his name lovingly and slid a wayward curl behind his ear so gently he thought he might break apart into a million pieces, “Tell me. Please. Tell me.”

“You’re my mate.” He confessed.

The words hung in the air, unaccepted, unrejected, and you went preternaturally still.

He had no feathers to pluck out and present to you. But he had his shadows. You tipped your head curiously to the side when Azriel knelt on the ground, holding your hand in his.

“I don’t have any pure white feathers. I don’t even have a ring on me right now-”

“Az, you don’t need to-” You stilled when a shadow flickered down Azriel’s wrist onto yours. It was a small, delicate thing. Willful too. You could tell by the way it traveled confidently down your ring finger, curling there tastefully like a castle spire reaching towards the sky.

It hovered over your skin like mist hanging over wetlands. A proposal in and of itself.

“Yes.” You said before Azriel could open his mouth again. He hesitated, afraid to believe he’d heard you correctly, “Yes.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say,” He teased weakly.

But this time you knew exactly what he meant, even if he didn’t say it out loud.

The bond burst to life in your chest as the shadow sank into your skin, settling there like a tattoo. Like a promise.

Azriel stumbled, actually stumbled, clenching at his chest at the wildness growing within him. He chased after you, hurtling down the bond and finding you wide open on the other side. You were anxious and surprised and so so so happy. So happy you felt like you might just die from it, and Azriel felt it all.

Hello, Y/n. He called out.

Hello, Azriel. You responded. My mate.

Azriel groaned, slamming his lips and his body against yours. You held steady as you always did, letting him press against you as if you could keep him there forever.

I am yours and you are mine. You gripped his hair again, feeling the silky strands caress your skin. With one smooth motion he pulled out the ribbon and started to undo the buttons of your dress.

Promise?

You grinned. Promise.

___________

Author's note:

Nothing like a declaration of love after a year spent apart to make my heart swoon.

But honestly I would have fallen in love with Naemon... sorry Az...

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar azriel #azriel fic #jealous azriel #fluff #angst #azriel x reader angst #acotar #acotar oneshot #acotar fanfic

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lainalit · 17 days

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Azriel in his bonus chapter💀

artists: lucien: mftfernandez | azriel: dominiquewesson

#azriel out here punching air #what is this man so pressed about #maybe he is jealous of elain because she got the mating bond with lucien and not him #I wouldn't blame him who doesn't want lucien #lucien vanserra #pro lucien vanserra #azriel #anti elriel #acotar #anti ic #anti inner circle #acotar critical #acotar memes

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illyrian-dreamer · 10 months

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Spin the bottle

Jealous Azriel x Reader. Angst/fluff (the usuaaallll)

Summary: A drunken game of spin the bottle with the rest of the IC makes Azriel a grumpy boy. (But it’s actually pretty romantic).

Word count: 2.1k

--------

This was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

You looked up from where the bottle had finally stopped spinning. Flecks of red wine having splattered on the floorboards from what little remained in the deep green bottle, it’s long neck now pointed directly at your High Lord.

It was the eighth bottle of the night, or perhaps the ninth? It hardly mattered, you and your friends were stupidly drunk, so much so that when Cassian had suggested a childish game of spin the bottle with a wiggle of his eyebrows, you had snorted and excitedly agreed.

It had taken a variation of tactics to get the rest of the Inner Circle to play along.

Feyre had giggled, whispering something to her mate who merely winked back at her as they both took a place by the fire.

Mor had clapped in delight, poking fun at Amren who clung to Varian, but when her partner agreed, so had she.

Nesta rolled her eyes at Cassian, but a smirk was set at her lips as he hauled her over his shoulder to the circle that was beginning to form. Even Elain hadn’t given much fight, blushing as she shrugged “If it’s only a kiss.” You had pecked her hands and gave a squeal of delight, pulling her to sit by your side.

That only left the amused, yet still brooding Shadowsinger.

Azriel kept his arms crossed, shaking his head with a stubborn smirk as each of you tried your own way to convince him to play, Some begged, some insulted, and some bargained with unfulfillable promise – all of which rendered useless against the Spymaster.

He leaned against the arm of the chase, dark hair falling in front of his honey-brown eyes. Despite his stubborn front, his wings were slouched and relaxed, Azriel’s tell-sign he was just as tipsy as the rest of you.

“C’mon Az,” you drawled, uncaring that you spoke with a slight slur. “You’ll be the only one not playing.” Dark shadows began to curl in your lap.

Azriel smiled tightly. “You’re all drunk.”

“Oh, and you’re not?”

Calling the shadows back from the distance they had gained towards you, Azriel’s eyes narrowed on you playfully. His smile grew, yet he remained unmoved.

“Leave him be,” Cassian spoke, a hand covering one side of his mouth as if to tell you a secret, but with a volume high enough to ensure everyone would hear. “He’s just brooding because he lost the snowball fight yesterday.”

Azriel stiffened immediately, and spoke with lethal cool. “I did not lose.”

Rhysand grinned, chiming in. “You certainly did.”

“I only lost to a pair of cheats. You’re not supposed to work as a team.”

“Why not give me a big smooch and prove you’re not a loser at this game too, then?” Cassian boasted, arms wide and beckoning, his lips comically puckered.

The rest of you howled in unison, tears forming in your own eyes as you wiped them away. Azriel finally took a place in between you and Feyre, and as far away from Cassian as he could get.

The rules were simple – spin the bottle and kiss whoever it pointed at. If the bottle was to land on a relative, it would automatically direct to the first on their right.

And so the game began. Cassian declared the first round his, the bottle landing swiftly on Varian who merely chuckled. Cassian had grabbed both sides of his face, planting an enthusiastic kiss on his mouth that sounded with a smack of his lips.

“Mmm, tastes like blood,” he teased at Amren, who merely scowled back. The rest of you were in hysterics, and you had to clutch at your stomach to stop it from hurting.

Mor was up next, the bottle reeling to a quick stop on Elain. The kiss was swift, but gentle, and had Elain thanking her with an shy giggle. Mor winked back at the blushing Archeron before returning to her spot.

Feyre had spun the bottle enthusiastically, and tipped her head back and laughed when it landed directly on her mate.

“C’mere darling,” he said smoothly, moving to dip her head back and plant a sensual kiss on her neck before slipping his tongue into her mouth. The group whooped and cheered, before Nesta declared she was to be sick and the couple finally broke their kiss.

Azriel was up next, and Cassian had roared with a cheer as the bottle landed in his direction. ‘Come here big guy!” Azriel had let him kiss him for all of two seconds, and kept a firm hand planted on his brother’s chest to ensure some distance was kept. You were sure you had never laughed harder in your life.

And so it was your turn. You were yet to be kissed, and felt a silly flutter of nerves as you crawled towards the bottle. It slowed to a stop. It’s long neck pointed directly at your High Lord.

“Well well,” Rhys mused, his violet eyes sparkling as a feline grin grew. “Try not to be too jealous, Feyre darling,” he winked at his mate. Feyre laughed, raising her hands in surrender. “I’m only glad it’s not Cassian,” she joked, earning a shove from the General.

Rhys was crouched in front of you now, his face relaxed yet playful. There was no denying his handsomeness – you certainly weren’t unhappy to be kissing him.

Rhys reached to cup your face, and as his long fingers found where your jaw meets your neck, you heard a sharp breath being sucked in from beside you.

Flicking your eyes over to Azriel, you saw his brow pulled in fury, his body completely stiffened and shadows nowhere to be seen. You hadn’t a second to process before Rhys’s lips found yours in a gentle kiss.

A kiss that lasted a mere second, before a cold, harsh voice spoke.

“Stop that.”

You and Rhys both broke away from the kiss. His hands were still on your face as you looked up at Azriel who now stood towering over the two of you, wings spread and chest fuming.

You couldn’t help but gawk at his erratic behaviour. “Azriel, what–?”

“Let go of her.” Azriel was practically growling at his High Lord.

Rhysand didn’t question him, instead he dropped his hands from your face immediately. “I’m sorry,” he said with a hushed voice. “I had no idea.”

The rest of the circle fell silent, each of you stunned by the Shadowinger’s outburst.

With a final fume from his chest and flare of his nostrils, Azriel folded to a winnow, vanishing from the room entirely.

“Well that was unexpected,” Mor spoke with a pull of her brow.

“I’ll say,” Feyre added.

Bringing a hand to your lips, the sensation of Rhys’s lips on yours lingered, and twinge of guilt cast through your stomach.

“Any idea of where he went?” you asked quietly, no longer amused with the game’s antics.

“The Sidra,” Rhys answered shortly, offering you a sorry smile before casting a long look at his mate, an obvious sign of their mind-to-mind exchange.

————

Velaris was freezing this time of year, and even your layers of wool, scarves and a heavy coat couldn’t protect you from the icy bite that blew from over the cold of the river. You found Azriel at a docking pier, solemnly leaning against the railing as the water sloshed below the planks.

There was no sneaking up on the Spymaster, yet he continued to ignore you as you approached.

“Care to explain yourself?” you spoke from some distance, making your way closer to him. His wings twitched at your words and knuckles whitened at their clutch on the railing, but Azriel kept his gaze on the night’s horizon.

You folded his coat over the railing, a small sign for a truce you were unsure was needed. When Azriel left it untouched, you sighed, folding your arms. “Put the coat on, Az.”

Without turning his head, Azriel cast a sideways glance before pulling the large black coat over his arms and wings. He was already a large and broad male, but the coat refined him further. It was quite a handsome look on the Shadowsinger.

“What happened back there?” you poached again.

There was a moment of silence before he spoke. “You wanted him to kiss you.”

Frowning, you were quick to defend yourself. “Not necessarily.”

“You did. I heard your heart fasten. I scented your excitement.”

“It was a game Azriel, one we all agreed to play.”

“I didn’t want to.”

You rolled your eyes then. “Alright Az, I’m sorry we forced you–”

“I didn’t want to play because I can’t stand the thought of anyone else kissing you.”

You gawked at your friend. “Excuse me?”

Azriel had finally turned to face you, his eyes wild and swirling with gold, his frown deep and chest moving fast. You could hear his own heart then, beating far too fast.

“When Rhys looked at you like that, and touched you, and then h-he kissed you… Gods Y/N. You don't understand. It took everything I had to rip him off of you.”

You blinked at Azriel – never had he shown such vulnerability. “Is this an Illyrian thing?”

Azriel shook his head tightly, wild eyes still fixed on you, nostrils flaring yet again.

“Are you jealous?” you collected.

Azriel ignored your statement. “I ache to be the one to kiss you like that, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat then, and you were forced to take a gulp of quick air. “Do you desire me, Azriel?” Something in your core throbbed at the thought.

“Tonight I realised it’s more than that. You have a certain…pull on me,” he said, moving to step closer. “Every time you’re in a room, I feel the need to be near you. And when you leave, something beyond my will begs for me to follow. I feel anxious when you’re away, and unfulfilled if I haven’t seen you or even scented you in hours.”

Your were deadly still, eyes wide as Azriel continued to move closer, drawing a breath through his nose, claiming the smell of you he so desperately needed. A deep hum sounded from him, before scarred hands moved to grasp either side of your arms.

“You have no idea how much control you have over me. You rule me Y/N, dictate my every move, just by simply existing.”

Guilt, confusion, passion and a small glint of hope overwhelmed you as his words sunk in. Could it be? Something so rare sparked by a ridiculous exchange of puppy-love? Your hands moved on their own accord, seeking his to hold. And when your cold fingers slid over his scarred ones, Azriel’s touch ignited a current of warmth through your veins, heating you from the inside out. Your own eyes widened to find his softened, earnest and pleading.

“I never meant to hurt you by kissing Rhys.” Your voice was a whisper.

“I know. Gods, of course I know that. I’m acting rash, I’m aware.” Azriel kept your hands in his, but looked down now, shaking his head. “Mother above, this is insanity!”

“It’s not insanity,” you said softly, stepping closer and bringing a hand to cup his chiselled cheek. “It’s the mating bond.”

Azriel froze then, his eyes locked on yours. “You feel it too?”

“I do now,” you said with a faint smile.

Azriel brow pulled in painful relief. “I heard it snap the moment Rhys’s lips found yours,” he admitted.

You cringed at the thought. “Gods, what an awful way to find out.” You pulled him closer to you, instincts igniting as your body begged to be closer to him, pressed against him bare if you could. “I’m sorry.”

Azriel was silent as he moved to entwine himself with you, strong arms encompassing you, protecting you. For a moment you held each other, savouring the feel of a perfect fit, two pieces of a puzzle having finally interlocked. Your kept your check pressed to his chest, listening to his heartbeat that was now a melody to your ears.

Looking up, you trembled in awe of his beauty, gingerly stroking his cheek before rubbing your thumb gently over his bottom lip. A deep sound left his chest then, and it thrilled you – you were tuning him with your touch.

“Be mine?” he asked, biting back his own urges as you leaned on your toes, reaching closer to his face.

“Only yours,” you whispered before pressing your lips against his, indulging in the euphoric sensation of the eternal tether binding you to your mate.

--------

A/N: Look, I truly believe not all fics have to end with a mating bond. But this one does, ok? Hope you enjoyed, thank you to @aroseinvelaris for the request!!

Also did you spot the slightest Mor x Elain crackship?? If you blink you might have missed it.... but I got excited lol.

Thanks always for reading! MWA

#azriel acotar #jealous azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel fluff #azriel mate #azriel jealous #azriel x you #inner circle fluff #inner circle x reader #acotar fluff #acotar fan fiction #acotar one shot #rhysand x reader #azriel mating bond #sarah j maas #acotar fanfic #acotar spin the bottle

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sunshinebingo · 6 months

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No because why do I imagine Azriel whispering “show me your jealous side, and i’ll give you everything” to gwyn?

Anon, now I'm imagining it too. I tried doing a little something with it and I hope that you like it. Thank you so much for the ask dear♥

Gwynriel, word count - 700, No warning

***

Her jealous side...

Gwyn was fine. She was fine. No murderous thoughts whatsoever. She was not mad that Azriel was dancing with another female. They were at Rita’s after all and everybody else was dancing. Except of course Gwyn who sat at the bar, watching the pair with a barely contained scowl. Gwyn was fine. She wanted to throw her glass at the one who had her hands on her Shadowsinger’s chest but she was fine.

The music was loud but not louder than the pounding of her heart as she watched the brunette rising on the tips of her high heels, grabbing onto his shoulders to steady herself, and said something in Azriel’s ear. His gaze found her through the crowd, just like they had since he had made that stupid comment about her being jealous but was too proud to admit it. Those hazel eyes were all but daring her to act. His lips turned into smirk when he saw how hard she was gripping her glass. It was the same expression that he had on at her first scoff when the female had complimented him on how good he looked. How basic of her. Of course he looked good. Her Azriel would look good in anything, especially in nothing at all.

Gwyn did not move from her seat as he left the female and approached the bar. She watched the other one instead as she disappeared through the crowd of dancers.

“You think this is funny, don’t you?” she asked him behind the rim of her glass while he grabbed his own drink.

“What is?” he feigned innocence as he casually rested his arms on the bar and turned to her.

“Stop teasing me Shadowsinger,” Gwyn glared at him. The triumphant expression on his face was pushing her over the edge. She was not fine.

His smirk grew at the clear anger that started to bubble inside her. He brought his face close to hers, closer than whatever-her-name was to him earlier.

“But I love how wet you get when I tease you.” That voice send a shiver across her body and made goosebumps erupt along her bare arms and shoulders.

He saw it. The way everything he did and said could set her on fire. How she wanted him all to herself. How she was on the verge of admitting that he was right. But she did not want to give him the satisfaction. He was enjoying this way too much.

Azriel downed the rest of his scotch and placed a hand on her thigh. Gwyn realised the stifling heat of the room at his touch. Her legs parted on their own, allowing him to place his hand between her thighs and slowly running it higher beneath her dress. His lips brushed her ear as he whispered to her. “Show me your jealous side, Gwyneth, and I’ll give you everything.”

Her resolve cracked at the promise. Every snarky remarks flew out of her mind. All that was left behind was Azriel and the need to remind him that he was hers.

As if Gwyn hadn’t seen her face enough for a lifetime, Miss brunette showed up at the bar with her purse in hand, smiling like she had won the lottery. Gwyn got a clue then of what she might have told him on the dancefloor. Over her dead body. She stood, grabbed Azriel by the neck and crashed her mouth to his. She parted his lips with her tongue, drawing a groan out of him that made her moan in turn. The room went from stifling to scorching. She ran her hands possessively over his arms and chest, pressing her body impossibly close to him.

When they both started to run out of oxygen, Gwyn pulled away and looked at the slack-jawed female behind Azriel. She narrowed her eyes at her. “He is mine,” she said loud enough for her to hear over the banging music.

“And you,” she turned her death glare on Azriel and stabbed his chest with her index, “better prove to me that you know you’re mine.”

His devilish grin conveyed his satisfaction. But not as much as everything he did to her that night.

#gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel shadowsinger #Jealous gwyn #thank you anon!#My ask is open if anyone has any suggestion that I can play with

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sadiegirl2021 · 19 hours

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House of Wind Gang Playing Spin the Bottle Gwyn (spinning bottle): Who's the Mother going to choose!?

*Bottle lands on Cassian. Gwyn smiles and moves towards him for a kiss. Shadows are agitated* Nesta (elbowing Azriel): Why is this turning me on? It's hot, right? Azriel (seething with anger): Sure! Emerie (takes turn to spin): Please no males! Please no males! *Bottle lands on Gwyn. Emerie's delighted. Shadows darken as she kisses her. Azriel grabs the bottle to take his turn* Azriel (whispering): You know what to do *Shadows intervene so bottle lands on Gwyn* Gwyn: Hey! That's cheating! Azriel (shadows already pulling her towards him): Shut up and kiss me!!

#Jealous Azriel #gwynriel #pro gwynriel #azriel's shadows #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #nesta archeon #cassian #emerie of illyria #house of wind gang #nessian #incorrect acotar quotes

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thatmadshifter11 · 7 days

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The Shadowsinger and The Mistress of Love and Lust

Mate.

I could feel the nightmare in me growl at the word but the dreamer in me smiled softly and shed tears of genuine happiness. I felt like I was drowning in an ocean of glass.

Mate. Mate. Mate. Mate.

Then all I felt was pain.

My wings- the pain- my wings.

My wings are gone.

I wince. How can I feel pain in my wings? Suddenly I’m being swarmed by shadows-his shadows-Azriel! They circle me whispering softly, touching me lightly.

He needs you. He's in pain. Help him.

They call to me, the pain in m-his wings keeps growing stronger. I don't question how they found me or how they spoke to me, all I can think is save Az.

I vacate my post at the healing tent and leave my assistant Lily in charge. I set out to find Azr-my mate. I see my brother and Cassian, they both seem tense and it worries me. I have been cooped up in the healing tent and haven't heard about anything pertaining to the war other than healing the soldiers and warriors injuries. I walk towards the two illyrians trying to tap into the power to summon my wings.

Hot searing pain floods the bond and I drop to my knees unable to summon my wings or my battle fan. I sink lower as I feel the shooting pain in my ankle and the sharp stabbing pains still in m-his wings. I am going to murder whoever hurt Azriel- My Azriel.

Cassian rushes towards me spitting curses as he grabs my arm trying to help me up. I give him a vulgar gesture and I call him things a High Lady shouldn’t even be able to think of. I yank my arm away and stand up slightly dizzy and nauseous. I catch myself on Cassian as I hear the faint sound of my brother laughing.

“Oh shut it Rhys” I say one hand on my hip the other leaning on Cass to stay balanced. “I was looking for Az but this fucking oaf got in the way,” I jab a finger in Cass’ chest. Cass looks at me with a snarl. I laugh as does Rhysand. “Well sister if your looking for him he should be flying back soon I have been awaiting his and Feyre’s return from rescuing Elain.” I smile knowing he should return, but then I remember the pain and the bond. “H-he's hurt brother like big time,” Rhys looks alarmed. “How do you know? And what happened” he asked, dragging me toward a group of chairs, Cassian following behind us.

"I felt it through our bond, a mating bond," I reply, wincing at the fresh wave of pain that surges through me. "His wings, they're damaged, and I think his ankle too. I need to find him, now."

Without waiting for their response, I push myself off the chair and start heading towards the direction the shadows came from. Every step feels like a dagger in my heart as I can sense Azriel's agony echoing down our bond. I almost stumble, but I steel myself and keep moving. I can't afford to falter now. My vision blurs, but I blink away the tears, focusing only on the path ahead./As I reach the spot where I had found the two stubborn Illyrians I see a shadowy figure in the distance. He drops quickly landing harshly groaning in pain. His wings, his glorious beautiful wings all torn and bloody filled with arrows I can only assume are ash arrows.

"Azriel," I call out, my voice breaking. I rush towards him, dread pooling in my stomach. He looks up, his eyes filled with pain but also relief at seeing me. I reach out to touch him but he winces, pulling away slightly. "I'm here, Az," I whisper, trying to assure him that he's safe now.

“Mate,” he growls at me in a sadder tone then his usual mocking raspy voice. “Yes, yes Mate, but for now lets get you healed alright?” He huffs which I can only assume is an answer to my question so I take it as one.

His eyes, usually so lively and watchful catching every slight move, are dulled by pain. Seeing him like this breaks my heart into a million pieces, but I swallow down the lump in my throat. I need to be strong for him.

Pt.2 link: https://www.tumblr.com/thatmadshifter11/748248818969198592/the-shadowsinger-and-the-mistress-of-love-and-lust?source=share

#azriel angst #azriel x female!reader #azriel shadowsinger #i am living for jealous azzy #cassian #feyre archeron #feysand #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #mating bond #idk what im doing

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casuallivi · 8 months

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The Midnight Kiss

I live bitches! barely lol. Slow and steady wins the race, they say. Hope that shit is true. 🤷

Enjoy. Comments are welcomed and cherished :)

Part 7: Here comes Jhonny

Morrigan Moretti never cared much for her catholic background.

For a spoiled little girl approaching the age of twelve, being catholic only meant Sunday mornings were reserved for church or else her nonna would have a fit. But going to church didn’t mean Morrigan attended the mass, no. The girl was well accustomed to finding her way to the backdoor, killing time behind the opulent white building till her grandma had enough of singing hymns.

In a boring Sunday mid spring, Morrigan snuck out of to find a boy sitting by the shade of a tree, their faithful meeting changing the curse of her life forever.

“What is this?” Morrigan scrunched her nose, looking over the little boy’s shoulder.

“A magazine.”

Mor squinted at the black woman in a yellow two piece sprawled on a beach towel, before her lips quirked in a sneer. Did this boy bring porn to church?

“A dirty magazine?”

She had seen naked women in her father’s hidden magazines before. And she was not impressed.

“A fashion magazine.” The boy corrected impatiently.

Oh, he did not have porn then. But his answer somehow made it all worse. What was a boy doing with a fashion magazine?

“That’s for girls,” she snickered under her breath.

The girly boy did not seem to like her words, because next thing she knew vexed hazel eyes cut to her so harshly, Mor flinched. Over his left brow, a pink cartoon band-aid creased.

“Fashion is for everybody."

With sharp page flip, he dismissed her completely, grabbing the pencil behind his ear to make annotations alongside the margin. In her short twelve years of life, few were the times Morrigan was ignored.

Okay, who was this boy?

She sat beside him on the steps, attempting to lure the boy back in conversation.

“I never saw a boy with a magazine like that,” then, when she had no answer, “have a dress that color…”

“Is it fun?” She tried again.

“…”

“Can I see it with you?”

No matter how hard she tried, the boy continued to ignored her, going as far as turning his back to her, making little Morrigan baffled. Huffing, she got up, cleaning her behind, eyeing the handkerchief under his butt, stopping his grey suit from getting dirty.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” She exploded, getting angrier by the minute.

Now she was really annoyed with him. He must not have recognized her, or know about her, because everyone in this town knew Morrigan Moretti was to be treated as nothing short of a princess.

Being the only child in a family were couples had a hard time conceiving lead Mor to grow used to being doted and catered for. House in the suburbs, private school, tutoring sessions, ballet lessons, and her long-life membership to the bay area Young Promising Ladies Club –which was passed down from mother to daughter– made sure she was well-educated and fine breeding lady who charmed everyone in the vicinity. Being a beautiful blonde, taller than most girls her age, with alabaster skin – which strayed from the general olive-ish tone of the Morettis – and the owner of a peculiar pair of brown eyes didn’t hurt either.

Everyone loved cute little girls, and Morrigan Moretti was cute as they come, never struggling for attention a day of her life.

Crossing her arms, Mor glared at the boy.

Despite his suit being perfectly pressed, and his black hair being meticulously combed to the side, she could see pink cuts coming out of the collar of his shirt, scratch marks on his wrists, and another colorful band-aid across his knuckles. All those cuts and bruises screamed trouble-maker to her.

How dare this shorty, trouble-maker, ignore her? Weirdo.

Feeling extremely irritated that he paid her no attention, her eyes set on the oh-so-precious object in his hands.

“You are very rude!” Morrigan said, kicking the magazine out of his hands. The boy gasped as the copy landed in a mud puddle, finally giving her what she wanted, and would want from him from that day onward: attention. “Oops. Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry one bit.

Serves him right for ignoring her.

The boy opened his mouth, but no sound came out, instead, the loud bells signaling the end of the mass caught her attention. At that moment, the big oak double-doors opened, a flock of elderly, couples and dutiful children spilling outside.

“Morrigan!” The happy voice of her noona reached her. “There you are, sweety. Come here child, I want to introduce you to my friend. Sofia, here she is. This is my granddaughter, Morrigan.”

Sofia turned out to be her noona’s best friend, who gave Mor a big huge and stained her cheeks red with lipstick. Discreetly, the blond girl cleaned her cheeks, feigning the polite expression she had long mastered. While cleaning herself, Mor payed little attention to the elderly women, eyes set on the boy swaggering towards them till he was standing behind Sofia. This boy looked nothing like the presentable boys she usually saw at church.

This one looked a foot taller than her, older too, with pants that barely reached his sockless ankles, sporting a loose faded-red tie which hanging from under the collar of his wrinkled shirt, a loud Gameboy firm in hand. He eyed him from head to toe, brow rising at the pink scratch marks on his cheek. The worst part was his hair: long enough to be tied at his nape with an ugly leather band. Ugh, she hated boys with girls’ hair. Morrigan made a face while he wasn’t looking.

When she was done analyzing the boy, Mor payed attention to her grandmother’s conversation, soon discovering the little hobo cosplay, and the boy who annoyed her earlier, were Sofia’s grandsons, who were moving in with her and would now be “a part of their community”.Her nonna was over the moon with the news, Mor not so much.

The weirdo’s name was Azriel. His older brother, Cassian.

When Sofia ordered the boys to greet her, Azriel merely nodded. She glared at the shorty, now hiding behind his noona.

“He’s a shy kid.” She smiled, patting his shoulder.

Mor couldn’t tell if he was really shy or resentful at her, but the one called Cassian seemed to be his opposite.

Cassian introduced himself without waiting for his grandma’s command, beaming as he kissed her hand, going on and on about how it was a pleasure to meet the pretty little girl he had heard so much about. Despite the gesture not being uncommon to Mor, who was used to people of all ages fussing over her, calling her pretty, granting all of her wishes, she liked him instantly.

Her noona, on the other hand, had no interest in Sofia’s older grandson, eyes shining only to Azriel, rushing him from behind Sofia, holding him and Mor close together.

“He’s your age, bambina. You are going to be best friends just like Sofia and I. I can tell.”

The two old ladies laughed.

Mor didn’t.

At the time, Morrigan had no idea how close she and Azriel would grow to be. Close enough to spend a decade in a relationship, flirting their way into it long before that.

Now they were no more.

Azriel had cut ties with her.

Their break up was no news to Morrigan. Azriel had done it a couple times before, set on separating his life from hers.

“I’m unhappy. I can’t do this anymore, Mor. I can’t.” He said the last time, breaking up with her again. “I’m done. I’m sorry, but I’m done.” “I won’t take your calls, I won’t answer the door, I won’t see you. We’ve been through so much, I don’t know – I don’t know how to stay friends with you. I’m sorry.” “I’m sorry, I’m really sorry it has to be like this, but this is the only way for us.”

Mor let him go that night, as she constantly did when she felt too tired to deal with his bullshit. Always something with that one.

Azriel had been hers for decades. She knew it was better to let him cool down, give him a few days and he’d be back to her again. Deep down Morrigan liked Azriel. The problem was Azriel was as emotional guy who like a boring monogamous relationship, and sometimes a girl needed a little break from routine. Not that she would not return to him afterwards. Mor always returned to Azriel’s side. There was nothing on this earth capable of separating them. Morrigan was a model because of him, Azriel worked for a fashion magazine because of her, their lives were way too intertwined to go on without the other.

So they lived like that. Morrigan gave him enough to keep him satisfy, hoping he could keep her satisfy, but he could. She would get bored, and he would want more, because Azriel always wanted more. He wanted full commitment, marriage, a house with dogs and kids. Morrigan wanted freedom, to enjoy life. So they’d start fighting, and she’d would get sick of him, letting him go for a while to cool down while she enjoyed the perks of the single life. Then, when things got boring again, she’d return to his side. Return to the man who loved her more than life itself.

Morrigan Moretti knew she’d marry Azriel Marino.

Eventually.

For as long as Mor could remember, Azriel had been irrevocably and undeniably in love with her. And for as long as she could remember, Mor had been irrevocably and undeniably in love with being loved by him.

In all honesty, Mor did not make it easy for him when they were kids, but to his credit, Azriel was not dissuaded by her hard personality. No one, in the whole world, loved her like Azriel did. In their twenties, Azriel dropped out of his dream college in Milan to move to Atlanta, because Mor was casted by a model agency in the city, and was “scared to be alone” there. One call. All it took for him to give up his dream and support hers was one phone call and a couple of fake tears while she painted her toenails.

Azriel went back to finish college later, but not before she turned into a runway model and moved to Milan herself, signing with a new, bigger agency. The little boy whose magazine she kicked grow into a man who had no difficulty in molding his life around hers, dedicating all of his free time to take care of her schedule, take care of her, so of course, Mor would reward him by settling down at his side.

Could you blame her for wanting to life her life before settling down? It was only fair to have some fun before being someone’s wife. Afterall, no matter how many times they broke up, they always got back together. Always.

Lately, one thing had been keeping her on edge, though.

Their break was too long.

This time Azriel had been taking his sweet time to crawl back to her side, longer than he ever did before. So long that Morrigan ended up hooking up with his brother.

Again.

Azriel didn’t know, would never know, but Morrigan had lost her virginity to Cassian. Had have a couple of one-nights with him along the years as well. She would never assume him, of course. If Mor wasn’t willing to lost her freedom in prol of Az, who never touched another woman in his life, imagine losing it to his man-whore of a brother, who loved no one but himself. Morrigan refused to be owned, she didn’t want a man to have that kind of power over her. And being owned by Cassian was beyond absurd.

“You’re coming with me to the office Christmas party.” Cassian announced one night, stripping his shorts. Morrigan hated how he wore short everywhere, like a young boy refusing to grow up. Would it kill him to put on some pants? Wear suits more than once a year? “What for?” Mor asked, unzipping her dress. “I need a girlfriend. The new shareholders will be there. They’ll feel more confident in the investment once they see me as a family-oriented kind of guy.” She waited for him to laugh, to tell her it was a joke. When he didn’t, Morrigan laughed and laughed, turning red in the face. “What’s so funny?” “You.” “Me?’ “You.” She repeated, “thinking I’m your girlfriend.” Cassian placed his hands on his hips, not amused. “You are my girlfriend.” “I’m no one’s girlfriend.” She was no one’s. Feeling the mood turn sour, Morrigan got of the bed. Cassian grabbed her arm before she took another step. “Let go, Cass.” “I’m not done talking to you.” “Well, I am. Let go.” “Still scared of relationships, blondie?” “I’m not scared, let me go.” “Get over yourself, Mor. You are not a fucking child anymore. You’ll fuck me every other night but won’t date me? Cut the horseshit. We are going, playing the happy lovable couple, then we’ll come back here and I’ll give a reward.” He moved her hand to his groin, show her exactly what she was getting. “I don’t want your shabby reward!” she spat at him. “You sure? Let me chance your mind, then.” Under heavy protest, Cassian threw her over his shoulder and carried her to the bathroom, showing Morrigan the kind of rewards he had in mind.

True to her word, Mor didn’t go to Cassian’s stupid Christmas party… but she couldn’t escape his stupid New Year’s Eve party.

Cassian had nothing to do with that, of course. Going to that party was the only way she had of seeing Azriel, who was also being true to his word, cutting all contact since their latest break up. Her calls weren’t answered, his doorman wouldn’t let her up anymore, her threatening texts were ignored, and the one time she managed to see him, Mor had to beguile Cassian into convincing his brother she was the perfect model to appear in Marino’s cover. To the increase of her stress, Azriel had remained strictly professional during the shooting, ignoring her efforts to meet afterhours. And then, at that awful karaoke party, he had the audacity of kissing someone else.

Dressed in an elegant black cocktail gown, Mor sipped her wine, eyes trained at the table on the far end of the restaurant; a table Azriel shared with no other than her.

Her.

The poorly dressed child-like woman she saw him kissing that night.

The same woman Cassian, for some reason, judge worthy of receiving a separate introduction during New Year’s Eve. Oh, Mor noticed their matching shirts instantly. She also noticed the dumb stunned look in her face when Cassian called Mor his girlfriend. That woman wanted to fuck Cass. Badly. Which let Mor utterly confused when she spied her all over Az. Her Az.

Despite being emotional one in their relationship, there was one thing Azriel and Mor had in common: Az did not like public displays of affection. Never had. Yet, he let himself be kissed just to spite her. Now here he was, going as far as taking that woman out, pretending to be on a date, doing everything in his power to make her jealous.

Mor blinked at the sight of the lousy girl.

What was her name again? Elide? Elisa? Elena? Well, who cares!

In the back of her mind, Morrigan had a faint memory of that woman being on set the day she posed for Marinos. She also remembered not liking her one bit. Too bubbly for her taste, too excited, too… happy. No one was that happy. Besides, A woman like Elisa would never attract Azriel in a million years. His taste ran on the refined side of things, not on women who dressed in shirts with comics printed on it. He should have chosen a better partner to pretend to be with.

That day Mor left the studio with a searing headache after spending half the day listening to distasteful jokes being traded left and right between Elena and Cassian –who was also present the shooting, despite her explicitly asking him not to– acting as if they were two pre-teens in a locker room. The other half consisted in her and Azriel going back and forth in a thousand of small irrelevant discussions that no one else seemed to follow.

Mor pushed her sunglasses up, stunned by the way the woman pointed her finger in Az' face. Their yelling getting louder. “Ignore them. We all do.” Cassian advised her. “You should call security.” “Nah, Ellie is not violent.” He slid his arm across her shoulders. “This is nothing, you should have seen the May shooting. She threw a binder at him.” “She did what?” “Don’t worry. They’ll reach an agreement in a sec.” “This is absurd.” “Nope, just another day with Az and Ellie. Believe me, I get tired of it too.” “Why don’t you fire her?” “Can’t.” “Why?” “Azzy won’t let me.” At that, Mor frowned. Why wouldn’t Az fire someone he couldn’t work with?” “Why?” Cassian shrugged. “Beats me. Az turns me down every time I found a replacement. Said is a hassle to train someone else when Elain gets him.”

The whole conversation made no sense to Morrigan. The more she watched them, the more out of character Az acted. Contrary to what she had seen him do countless times in the past, Azriel did not order the photographer around. He did threaten to fire her countless times, but everyone could see he didn’t mean it. The worst part was watching him discussing ideas with her, listening to hers as well, going as far as incorporating her inputs in the itinerary.

That day Morrigan caught Azriel doing a measly a staff’s job because she asked him to.

Mor returned from reapplying make up, to catch Azriel and the photographer mid conversation, the couple conversing quietly in the corner of the set. “Marino,” “No.” “Marino, please!” “I said no.” “I keep getting shadows in her face.” “Have her under another light stand.” “I can’t! This is her best angle so far, I don’t want to lose it.” Azriel rubbed his temple. “Just photoshop the shadows away.” “You’re the one spanking my ass the other day for using too much photoshop!” Azriel’s ears turned pink. “I spanked no one’s ass!” he hushed stressed. “Figure of speech. Help me out, will ya?” “What do you want me to do, Archeron? There’s no electrician here.” “Hold it for me, please?” Elain held his hand in hers, bouncing up and down while blinking repeatedly. “Twenty minutes tops. Promise.” Struggling, Azriel pulled his hand from her grip, cleaning them with his pocket square. “Don’t be stupid, I won’t hold a light for twenty minutes ‘cause you want me to.”

As if the dialogue itself wasn’t bizarre, to see Azriel taking off his shoes to step in the sterile zone to hold a light stand had Morrigan shocked.

And as she sat here, in this restaurant, watching him hold the photographer’s hands, kissing her palms without a care in the world, Mor’s hatred for the yapping-girl ten folded.

Mor snickered into her glass, finding it funny how Azriel was doing everything in his power to get her attention. She didn’t know why he bother parading that one around. Soon she’d be nothing but a smudge in his latest attempt to break up with her. All those who came before her didn’t get a second date, this one would not either. Azriel Marino was obsessed with Morrigan Moretti, there was no space for anyone else in his heart, nor his mind.

In the distance, Azriel fixed the girl’s frizzy hair behind her ear, pinching the tacky earring daggling in her lobe. Mor's intention to sip her wine was replaced by her downing the entire goblet.

“How’s your lobster?” Her boring, bald, partner’s question caught her by surprise, bringing Mor’s attention back to her own table.

She sliced a piece of meat, curling her lips around her fork with an exaggerated moan.

“Delicious.”

Her companion’s eyes gleamed with malice.

She gave him a sultry smile, but in her mind, Mor was already back to ignoring him.

Azriel having a “date” in the same restaurant she was meeting with her newest spoon was no coincidence. The man new everything about her, there was no way he came here not knowing she had this dinner schedule for tonight. Stalker much? The boring man served her more wine, which Morrigan gladly accepted.

Well, since Azriel was trying his best to get her attention, Mor would be generous and grant his wish. After she was done with this sponsor, she’d visit Azriel to do what she did best: speed the inevitable end of his doomed relationship. And Azriel would go back to doing what he did best: pine for her.

~~~~~~~~~~

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broodybatboy · 2 years

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Balthazar: *innocently compliments Gwyn*

Cassian, smugly: You’re awfully quiet tonight, Az.

Azriel: No one plots murder out loud.

#i am living for jealous azzy #gwyn is just hottie what did you expect #cassian giving him shit #azriel #acosf #incorrect acotar quotes #gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #incorrect quotes acotar #incorrect acotar

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reiincarnatiion · 9 months

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shadows of destiny | azriel x reader | part one

summary : 3 sisters for 3 brothers....right? Azriel believes wholeheartedly that Elain should be his mate and in doing so ignores his deep feelings for you.

🧚‍♀️

a/n : I haven't written in like 6 years since my draco malfoy and kpop fanfictions HAHA so please forgive me I am rusty!! Also I wrote this on my phone eeee

but finally eee I'm so excited to post my first writing on tumblr !! I was always a quotev and wattpad girly but here I am finally... 💗

just writing some rough short stories rn but I'll def write more as I get more comfortable again and into the rhythm! let me know what you think please 🫶🏼

ps: it's not proof read cuz I'm lazy I'm so sorry so please ignore mistakes dearies

-----🩷🧚‍♀️💗------

You watched as Azriel bent down to whisper something into Elains ear and you felt a growl beginning to build up in your throat.

You didn't know the mating bond did this ; make one so possessive and jealous that the half-moon nail marks on your palms had become blood red, from gripping your fists too strongly.

"I just don't understand why you can't tell him," a voice whispers next to you. You turn to acknowledge Mor, as she slips in next to you into the booth.

"Because the moment I do, this whole dynamic changes Mor," you whisper back, indicating to the sprawl of people around you.

You guys had come to Rita's once again, to party, drink, kiss and do other nonsense things Cassian had eagerly talked about, whilst pitching the idea to the group. It had started off fun, with everyone talking together but as the night had progressed, they had all paired off. You could see Feyre and Rhys making out in the corner of your eyes and Nesta and Cassian dancing around each other on the club floor. Elain and Azriel had also innocently gotten up and moved to another table, using a range of excuses you hadn't bothered to process.

Even Mor had a female making eyes at her from afar.

"Then change the dynamic, Y/N. I need some excitement in my life," she whispered furiously again and slid out, stalking to the female at the bar.

Groaning you sunk into the booth, left alone to your thoughts plagued by one thing only, Azriel.

The repetitive music slowly faded out, as you downed drink after drink, watching the others around you mingle and grind away into the depths of the night. They would come past your table and say a few words before being dragged away again.

But not once did he come. Not once did he even look in your direction... and it infuriated you.

"You look more miserable than me,"

You blinked, looking up to focus in on the flop of red hair, braids and whizzing metallic eye and a handsome jawline.

"Lucien!!!" you let out a whine, attempting to get up but falling back down in the process, not having realised how much strong alcohol you had consumed in the last hour.

"Woah there stargirl," he slipped in next to you, using the nickname only he used for you.

Lucien and you had met on Starfall, as you had been leaning on the balcony, apparently being half a second from falling over because of your drunk eagerness to "catch one of the stars", and since then, he had named you Stargirl. Your friendship had blossomed due to your matching humour and desire to travel the realms.

His shoulder pressed up against you, his warmth spread through you, making you feel giddy. You couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or your desperation, as you abruptly laid a hand on his thigh.

If he noticed, he didn't show it as he took a swig of one of the elixirs that you had in your hand.

As he drank, you watched his eyes zero in on his elusive mate and you swore you saw them darken.

His scent visibly changed as he placed the now empty cup back on the table with a lethal fluidness that had you wondering how good he was at controlling his emotions.

"Its a shame we are mated to the wrong people, otherwise you and I would have ruled the world" he whispers, still not looking at you.

Your breath catching in your throat, your heavy heart pangs with emotion, exaggerated from the effects of the ethanol.

"At least she knows you are her mate Lucien... he doesn't even know about me," you miserably mutter.

You feel Luciens hot gaze rest on you as you look up into his deep eyes.

There's no doubt the turmoil of seeing each other's mates together shines in both of your eyes, but behind the pathetic nature of the situation, a force glint shines through his.

"Then why don't we tell him, Y/N," he urges, a smirk growing on his face.

Your heart drops as you make eye contact with Lucien, his eyes glinting with jealousy and anger.

You had never seen Lucien ever break his calm facades, he always would take whatever Elain would throw at him ; why was he so fired up tonight?

"You have always been so kind to Elain and given her time Lucien, why do you want to make her jealous now?" you voice your thoughts, causing him to look away, as you attempt to search his eyes.

Little did you know or feel, the dark cool gaze that had been assessing you since the moment Lucien had slipped in.

If one were to look through your party at this moment in time, the looks of longing and jealously swirling between you and Lucien could easily have been interpreted as longing and hunger for each other. With now, your full body turned to him, intimately touching him, shoulder to shoulder, anyone could mistake you as a couple.

---

Azriel nodded patiently as he listened to Elain talk about the new plants she wished to acquire from the Dawn Court for her garden.

He was trying so hard to listen and be attentive, but it was difficult when his shadows were buzzing about him, even more frantically, with the effects of the alcohol he had been consuming throughout the night.

He knew the amount of pumps of the vanilla perfume you had sprayed onto yourself, he knew how many times you had sighed throughout the night and he knew of the half-moon marks on your hands. His shadows told him everything, even when he didn't want to know.

For he didn't want to know the looks Lucien and you were giving each other, he didn't want to acknowledge the clenching of your thighs or the hand on your thigh or the-

"-So what do you think Azriel?"

Elains sweet voice cut in deeply through his silent spiralling, as he hummed coming back to the present.

Her big doe eyes innocently looked up at him as he racked his brain for what she had been asking about.

"YES I think the plants would be wonderful-," he began, when his shadows started screaming, "Elain excuse me one moment."

He quickly got up, his eyes narrow and jaw clenching as he went to get out of the booth in haste.

Elains eyes followed him and they widened slightly.

Luciens' hands were on your waist, holding you up from behind, as you both made your way to the dance floor, giggling.

---

read [ part two ] here deariess <3

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stargirlfeyre · 4 months

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Name on hardcore Elriel who isn’t obsessed with villainizing Mor or die…everybody dead.

It’s crazy how these are the same people who complain about Elain getting hate simply because Azriel wants her and yet…

#morrigan #pro morrigan #elain archeron #azriel #elriel #elriels hating on Mor because she had Azriel’s attention and love for 500 years is the equivalent to gwynriels hating on elain because she #has Azriel’s attention now. it’s giving jealous girlfriend who can’t stand that their boyfriend was interested in other people before them.#pitiful to watch. misogyny only exists when it comes to Elain

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lgnite-me · 1 year

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Ookay. Well. I did it. I wrote my idea out instead of doing my homework. Oops. Oh well no regrets.

Summary: Right after their mating, Elain unknowingly brings an old frined to the House of Wind and Cassian goes feral. A little smutty at the beginning, cute nessian, a little bit of post-acosf plot, and jealous/possesive Cassian! (since we were robbed in acosf)

Word count: ~2500

Author’s note: this is barely edited and i have never written smut before so pls be kind :) also i am still working on other prompts this one was just screaming at me. Also pls note i am not an elriel stan nor am i an elucien and gwynriel stan. I am a stan for whatever makes the characters happiest and was literally just following the post plot of acosf so pls dont come after me. Ok enjoy!

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Lying next to her, more like on top of her, Nesta stared at her mate in wonder. She never knew the kind of peace and joy she currently felt, lying there with him. Just last night she and Cassian had been mated, and their night together had been thorough. She had whispered to him how she loved him over and over and he had reverently worshiped her body in return. He had returned the sentiment to her in words, but the way he knew to express his love was through physical touch, and she more than felt it last night.

“I can feel you staring,” Cassian murmured, with his eyes still closed.

“I was just admiring,” she replied. Cassian’s eyes opened at that, and in them she saw the love and lust shining through. She kissed his lips softly, then his jaw, slowly moving her way down his body showing him how much she admired it. Cassian groaned when she reached his cock and took him in her mouth.

“Nesta”, he groaned. He gently gathered up the loose hair with his hand as she continued to suck until he came with a groan, yelling her name. She looked up at him with a gleam in her eye as she wiped her mouth, and licked her fingers. He pulled her up to him, kissing her thoroughly, as he began to return the favor. Nesta moaned at his thoroughness as he went down on her, licking her clean. When she began to temple from her incoming climax, she shouted his name to the ceiling, praying that they were alone in the house. She expected they were, as no one was foolish enough to get in between mates during a frenzy. Afterwards, they both lay there as they held each other closely and once more drifted off to sleep.

Elain knew they thought her weak. That all she did was garden, but gardens made her happy and who was to deny themselves the pleasure of doing something they enjoyed. Lifting a flower out of one of her pots, she gently turned it around to admire the pink petals and bright green leaves before carefully putting it into the soil next to the other plants.

“There”, she thought. The row was perfect now, and she was satisfied with taking a short break now. Honestly, she was starving, having forgotten to stop and eat since she’d gotten so consumed in making the perfect row of flowers.

“Excuse me,” a voice behind her coughed.

Elain whipped around, startled to find a tall, dark haired Illyrian standing there. This wasn’t an Illyrian she knew, but rather one who looked quite cleaned up, except for the slightly crooked nose. Truthfully, he has a bit of a baby face besides the nose, Elain mused to herself. He was wearing the traditional Illyrian leathers, but donned only one, maybe two siphons. Considerably less than Cassian and Azriel.

“Can I help you with something?” Elain asked as she shielded her eyes from the sun to stare up at him. She was wary of this stranger, but he seemed friendly enough that Elaine would first find out what he was looking for.

“Sorry to bother you, but I was looking for High Lord Rhysand’s house?” He nervously shuffled his feet, and Elain couldn’t help but smile to herself at how skittish he looked. He didn’t even really look at her while he was speaking. Elain couldn’t help but like him.

“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”

“Sorry. Balthazar.” he reached out his hand to her, and Elain took it with faint amusement.

“I’m looking for the High Lord, as he asked me here to do something for him.”

He still had the nervous look about him, but the name registered in Elain’s mind. Balthazar…

Suddenly, it came to Elain, and she gasped before exclaiming, “You're the one who was in the rite with Nesta weren’t you?”

“Nesta Archeron? Erm, yes, that was me.”

Elain smiled brightly, glad to have remembered. She couldn’t wait to tell Nesta, as a matter of fact, she would surprise her by bringing him to her.

“You know, I bet she would love to see you,” Elain grinned to herself. Nesta would be so excited to see the male who had helped her during the rite again.

“Oh. Well, I-I suppose if she was available. I wondered how she fared after I left her. Sure, I’d like that.”

“Great!” Elain clapped her hands excitedly. “Come on, they’re just that way.” She pointed up at the House of Wind and Balthazar followed her finger, eyeing it as though sizing it up. He held out a hand for her.

“I assume we need to fly,” he stated as she took a hold of his hand.

“Yes, but it's fairly easy for a person with wings.”

Balthazar cracked a small smile at that as he picked her up off the ground and shot into the sky.

Landing on the balcony of the House of Wind, it was eerily quiet. Balthazar had never seen such a building, built into the side of a mountain the way it was. He had just received the summons from his High Lord, and had eagerly flown down to Velaris for a meeting. Having run into the small girl who smelled and looked like sunshine had been an odd but welcome surprise. He had been curious to know how the two females he had helped in the rite had fared, and now he was about to find out.

“Hello?” Elain called out as they stepped further into the house. “Is anybody there?”

Elain turned back to him. “They just had their mating ceremony last night, so they have to be here.”

“They just had their…” Balthazar couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She had brought him here right after a mating?!

“Nesta and Cassian,” she replied matter of factly. “You know him as the General Commander.”

Balthazar's eyes widened in recognition, body tensing to flee, but before he could react there was a large force slamming him against the wall.

Cassian woke to the sound of a voice calling out. He carefully looked around the room to make sure there was no immediate threat to his mate, and once assured there was no pressing threat, he listened more intently outside the room. Voice, two of them, one male and one female. His instincts coiled at that, at the potential threat to his mate. He looked over at her still carefully sleeping and sighed. If they had woken her…

Watching her sleep so thoroughly soothed his male instincts, and he slowly got up off the bed, careful not to wake her. Pulling on a pair of loose pants, he grabbed two of his sharpest daggers, and exited the room, throwing up a sound shield so that whatever he was about to do wouldn’t disrupt her peaceful slumber. As Cassian prowled along the corridor, careful not to make any noise, the smell of the two intruders grew stronger and stronger. The male.. well he was dead now. All Cassian could see was red, at the thought of the male so close to Nesta’s vicinity and for the fact that he could have woken her. Finally making it to the two, he slammed the male into the wall. The female with him started screaming. What she was screaming he had no idea. Maybe his name. He was too lost in his bloodlust to care.

Rhys was staring down a pair of hazel green eyes for who knew how many fucking times it had been. He was starting to get really pissed off. Actually, he was already pissed off and this conversation had just made him angrier. Azriel refused to back down and stared right back at him, the two locked in a battle of silent, stubborn wills.

“I told you, she needs to be left alone,” Rhys grit out.

“And I told you, I don’t fucking care what you said. She came to me and wanted to talk. I wasn’t going to fucking refuse.”

“Well next time -” Rhys was cut off by a voice calling to him in his mind.

Rhys! Help! Please, the female was almost sobbing at him, clawing at his mind shields.

Elain, he recognized and lowered them so their communication line was open.

What’s going on? He asked with alarm.

Cassian is going to KILL HIM, she screamed back.

Kill who? Now Rhys was even more alarmed. Show me what you’re seeing.

Suddenly an image popped into his mind. It was what Elain was seeing, and it wasn’t pretty. They were in the House of Wind and there were broken pieces of glass and furniture littered across the room. Elain was huddled underneath one of the few remaining pieces of furniture while Cassian and a male Rhys faintly recognized were destroying the room left and right as Cassian chased the shorter one with his daggers. There was a bloodthirsty look in his eyes, a predatory one, and Rhy realized that with everything happening with Azriel, he had forgotten about the situation his other brother was in. One in which he would try and beat up any male who got in the way of his mating. That was supposed to be Rhy’s job, payback from his own mating frenzy.

Please help, Elain whimpered.

I’ll be right there, Rhys soothed before quickly showing Azriel, whose eyes widened in recognition of what was happening. Rhys quickly shut the link right before Feyre walked into his office.

“Elain just asked me to go help her stop Cassian from killing someone, what is going on.” she pressed with a not so amused look. She raised her eyebrows in the most adorable way, but Rhys didn’t have time to stop and admire.

Come on, we have to go to the House of Wind.

Well, what happened then?

You’ll see when we get there, tell Amren to come watch Nyx and then we can go.

Feyre’s eyes widened before quickly sending a message to Amren. Rhys picked her up, with Azriel following suit as they shot off to the House of Wind.

When they got there, it looked like every piece of the house had been thoroughly destroyed. Except, of course, for the one Elain was hiding under. Before Rhys could react Azriel hurried over to her side with Feyre in tow to help calm her down. Rhys looked around, but before he could start to go look for them, a body was slammed into the wall next to him. Jerking towards the commotion, he saw Cassian in full battle-mode, ready to kill. Honestly, he would be surprised if the male wasn’t already dead. Then he realized that the male was Balthazar, the Illyrian he had summoned to do some business with, due to his involvement with Nesta’s rite.

“Shit”, he mumbled before grabbing Cassian and hauling him off the Illyrian.

Cassian struggled against him, landing a few punches before he was able to get a good grasp on him.

“CASSIAN,” he shouted “CASSIAN STOP”

Cassian did not stop. He kept fighting like a male possessed, and before Rhys knew it he was on his back with an angry Cassian glaring down at him.

“Fuck”, Rhys mumbled. His head had been thoroughly bashed in. He had forgotten the fact that in hand-to-hand Cassian used to and still could wipe the floor with him. It was part of why he had made him General, and how they had started their relationship.

Fitting, he thought amusingly. Then his head was slammed into the floor and he wasn’t so amused anymore.

Before he had time to regroup another body was slamming into Cassian’s. Rhys tumbled to the side to sit up and saw Azriel grappling with Cassian on the floor.

“Mating bond chafing, Cass?” he asked with a smirk. Under Azriel, Cassian growled at his remark, but really, Rhys thought, he had to do it. Looking over to Feyre, he saw her still trying to sooth Elain, while in the corner the male, who was definitely still alive thank the Gods, was grumbling in pain and clutching his stomach.

Why isn’t she out here? he shot to Feyre.

He has a sound shield around their room. Probably didn’t want to disturb her.

Rhys rolled his eyes. How kind of him. Break it, please, and get her out here.

All he got in return was a slight nod and the bond closed off. Before he knew it he was back in the heat of the fight, as Cassian seemed to need both of them to keep him down and get his energy out.

Nesta awoke to a prodding in her head. Groggily, she opened her eyes before realizing it was inside her head and gently lowered her shields, wary of who she was potentially lettering in.

Nesta, you need to get out here. Now.

Suddenly, there was the loudest crash she had ever heard in her life, shouting, crying and a lot of groaning from what seemed like pain. She shot up in bed and mind linked back to Feyre.

What the hell is going on?

Elain thought you might like to see your old friend Balthazar, but didn’t realize how… adversely Cassian would react. He put up a sound shield around your room, that’s why you didn’t hear anything. Don’t blame her though, she meant well.

Nesta was already out of bed, pulling on Cassian’s shirt.

How long has this been going on? she frantically shot back.

A few hours, I think.

A few HOURS?

Nesta quickly hurried out of their room and down the corridor until she reached the room everyone was currently occupying. It was absolute carnage. The furniture was broken, Elain was hiding under a table crying, with Feyre trying to comfort her, Balthazar was slumped against the wall, and in the corner Rhys and Azriel were trying to wrangle Cassian away from breaking anything, or anyone else. As soon as she entered the room, Cassian stilled and looked at her. She saw the gleam in his eyes, that predatory instinct that had taken over during his fight. They softened when he looked at her, then shot around the room taking in the damage. Slowly, his eyes drifted back to hers with a guilty look, but Nesta simply walked towards him carefully, eyes only on him.

“Cass,” she whispered gently as she held out her hand. Carefully, she placed it on his cheek, Rhys and Azriel having stepped back. As soon as her hand made contact, his eyes fluttered closed and he nuzzled against her palm. Nesta placed her forehead against his as he pulled her in closer, wrapping her up in his wings. Behind them, damage control was being done, but Nesta didn’t care about any of them. All she cared about was the male right in front of her.

Easily, he scooped her up and brought them back to their room. Laying her on the bed, she let him take her while he whispered “mine” roughly in her ear.

“I’m yours Cass,” she reassured, and she felt him shudder with relief. “And you’re mine,” she whispered. At that, he shouted her name and spilled within her, Nesta following right behind. They continued to make love until the sun rose the next morning and they finally drifted of to sleep, content in each other’s embrace.

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elliemarchetti · 30 days

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Like Perfume You Wear, I Linger

Drabble inspired by Olivia Rodrigo’s songs obsessed (stream it because it’s good and the MV is funny) and lacy.

Part 2 of Rotten Petals, Rotten Feelings but you don't really need to read it to understand this. Gwyn's POV because in the end, it’s always the girls that suffers when a man is emotionally unavailable.

Words: 656

Gwyn was aware her obsession was unhealthy. She was ashamed to admit how much she thought about that girl she never even met, and she felt guilty in knowing so many personal and useless things concerning her person. She couldn’t stop though, every new, futile detail like a drug. By now, she had found out her star sign and her blood type, she had seen every movie she had starred in, staring at her impeccable and smart characters like she wanted to get hurt, and visited a couple places she had been to.

If she told anyone without providing context, they would think she was enamoured. She even read the books she cited in her captions on Instagram, but she never dared to hit follow, because she was her boyfriend’s ex something. They had never been together, they had only kissed once, but they had slept in the same bed, so she was sure he was, at some point, in love. If she had been a man, or if she had been into girls, she probably would have too: Elain Archeron was a talented, dazzling starlet, with eyes as pretty as the daisies she cultivated, lips plump like ripe cherries, and hips as sexy as Brigitte Bardot’s. Gwyn had tried to rationalize, to tell herself she was just a person and not a goddess made of angel dust that descended on the Hell they called Earth just to get on her nerves, but she failed, and her rotten mind loathed her because she seemed the greatest thing to ever exist.

She despised her jealous eyes and how hard they fell for her, but she had come up with a code name to talk about her with her best friend nonetheless, in case Azriel accidentally stumbled into one of their chats. Lacy, or as Emerie liked to say, Lacy skin-like-puff-pastry. The poor girl didn’t deserve all this bitterness – she even spoke kindly of her, her compliments like bullets on Gwyn’s skin. She knew she was butthurt only because she didn’t deserve her sweetness, and it was all her unresolved issues’ fault, but she could swear she still felt the ghost of her body when she was sleeping in Azriel’s bed, and every time he called her name in the morning, she held her breath, fearing to hear the one of his previous lover.

Truth be told, everyone described her boyfriend as uncharacteristically besotted, and knowing they had both moved on and they surprisingly didn’t talk anymore, she should’ve stopped worrying, but they also kept repeating how Elain was the life of every fucking party, and they kept remarking how easy-going and never controlling she was, and it was inevitable that she was still friend with his friends – two of them were with her sisters – but their chatter unknowingly made her upset and unable to get over it.

“Do you ever think about her?” she had asked one night, on the way home, to her unassuming boyfriend. Azriel had taken a fraction of a second too long to answer, and Gwyn, stomach all in knots, had quickly told him that it was fine if that was the case, that she didn’t care, but the reality was she wanted to know everything, if he regretted never having pushed the relationship further, if he ever imagined a future with her, whether he had idealized what they had and if she would ever be enough. It was taking over her life, and she started to see her beautiful enemy wherever she went, the sweetest torture she could bear. “You’re losing it,” her sister had told her one day, when she had found her stalking her TikTok page for the umpteenth time. Maybe it was true, but she once had the only thing she wanted, and even if it was Gwyn and not Elain who was Azriel’s girlfriend now, something told her he had left her a piece of his heart forever.

#gwynriel #past elriel #gwyn has issues and she's not working on them #she should just drop azriel and befriend elain really #but she's not ready for this take #i hope i did a good job portraying envy and jealousy because i'm like the least jealous person on earth #and not in a pick me way #it genuinely destroyed a couple relationships and friendships i had in the past because people thought i didn't care about them #i do care #maybe too much #i'm just not possessive and i don't want what other people have #not seriously #anyway #azriel shadowsinger #gwyneth berdara #elain archeron #acotar drabbles

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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

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Congratulations on 500 darling!!!!!!!! Can I please request 30 with azriel? Thank youuuuuuu 🤍🤍🤍🤍

Confessions at Starfall

Azriel x Reader one shot

Summary: It's the night of Starfall, and you're hopelessly in love with the Shadowsinger. When Azriel keeps flirting with Elain, you're pushed to your final limits.

HELLO AND WELCOME TO DAY 1 OF 5 FOR 500!

Thank you @cityofidek for requesting 30 - Unrequited love/pushing loved one away.

Warnings: None.

Words: 3,048

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It was the night of Starfall, and you were utterly miserable.

Sitting at the dining table with your family, the rest of the inner circle exchanged jokes and light-hearted conversations as plates of steaming roasts, vegetables and pies were passed around. While it was usually your favourite holiday – the night ahead promising dancing and celebration, you were feeling far from festive.

It had everything to do with the male you loved, who sat across from you now, dotting over Elain Archeron. His eyes rarely left her, and you would know, because yours rarely left him. You noted the way he sat, his body tilted slightly in her direction, his wings folded back to make provide her more space to move. To the untrained eye, it wouldn't look like much – but for Azriel this spoke volumes.

That was the kind of detail you had learned to read over the past year. It had been twelve excruciating months since you had realised your own feelings for the Shadowsinger. Gone was the comfortable friendship you two shared – instead it was quickly replaced with blushing, timidness and uncontrollable awkwardness, all thanks to you. And while you once held out hope that Azriel might notice, or even return your feelings, overtime your friendship had drifted – pushing him further into the arms of the middle Archeron sister.

Elain made you seethe with jealousy. It wasn’t her fault, she was nice really, all be it a bit simple. But she had a way about her, like a doe-eyed fawn their first steps. It made you uncontrollably angry the way people would line up to help her, especially the males. Not to mention her undeniable beauty. You knew she and Azriel made a very handsome couple.

So you sat here tonight, marking every bit of attention the Spymaster gave Elain, longing for him to look at you the way he did her. Jealousy didn't even begin to cover it.

“Y/N?”

You blinked, not realising Azriel was speaking to you even though you had stared off straight in his direction. You coughed, straightening in you seat. “Sorry, pardon?” Your heart beat at the thought he might have started a conversation with you.

“Can you pass the potatoes?”

Your heart dropped, and you tried to hide the disappointment on your face. Of course he wasn't interested in talking to you, he hadn't in weeks. Without replying, you passed over the dish, reaching straight for the white potatoes instead of the orange kind. Azriel didn't like how sweet they were, and you knew that. It was the kind of detail you remembered about someone when you’re hopelessly in love.

“Ooh, can I please have the sweet potatoes?” Elain chirped. “They’re my favourite.” Of course the sweetest female in all of Prythian liked yams the most. You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes. You passed the dish over silently, and watched Azriel load up his plate with those too. It took everything you had to stop the scowl that twitched at your eyes.

You pushed your fork and knife to the centre of your plate, suddenly having lost your appetite.

————

The luminescent glow of the stars shooting above had been going for over an hour, and the party was in full swing. You breathed in, letting the magnificent sight lighten your heart the way they did the night sky.

Gathered on a large marble terrace of Rhys and Feyre’s river home, almost a hundred guests had come in fine gowns and suits to celebrate the event.

Wearing a dress of midnight blue that sparkled with night, you laughed lightheartedly as Cassian and Nesta joked with you, champagne in hand. The musicians at the base of the terrace reclaimed their seats, raising their instruments and beginning a new set of elegant melody.

“I hope you don’t mind Y/N, but I must show off my mates dancing,” he winked at you before offering his hand to Nesta. She smiled, placing a delicate hand atop of his, nodding to you before being lead to the dance floor.

Couples now twirled and stepped in unison, the sight almost as magical as the sky above. You felt a large presence slide beside you, and your heart fluttered as shadows caught the corner of your eye.

“Are you enjoying your night?” Azriel had finally come to spend some time with you.

“Of course,” you lied, smiling softly as you gulped the rest of your champaign, earning a slight raise of Azriel’s brow. “And yourself?”

Azriel nodded. “It’s as beautiful as always.”

“Yes, it is.” You couldn't help but stare straight into his hazel eyes, your heart lurching as your words hung with double meaning. Ask me to dance, you begged in your head. We dance every year on Starfall, c’mon, just ask me. If Azriel was paying any attention, he would have read your pleading gaze. But he wasn’t, of course, because his eyes fell beyond you, at the pretty Archeron who wore a gown of delicate blush.

You looked down, suddenly overwhelmed with insecurity as you smoothed the ripples in your dress. Of course he didn't like you – you looked like a witch of death compared to the femininity that blossomed from Elain.

“You look quite beautiful tonight.”

Your heart leaped. Your anger from earlier quickly vanished as you breathed in to thank Azriel, already blushing. But as you looked up, your heart immediately sank as you realised Azriel wasn't complimenting you at all, but rather Elain, who had made her way over.

It felt much like being punched in the gut.

Your mouth was dry as you silently watched Azriel offer her an arm, her petite hand slipping through as he guided her to the dance floor.

That felt much like being kicked in the gut while you were down.

You couldn't help the steady flow of tears that now stained your cheeks, or the broken crumple that formed on your face. Unable to withstand any more blows, you fled the party.

————

Slumped against the frame of a large window, your body shook with cries so hard they fell silent. You didn't care if it was the most special night of the year, you had never felt more abandoned, underserving and unloved.

You were crying too hard to hear the footsteps that trudged up to the lookout room you were hiding in, and you didn't hear the faint knock at the door. It wasn't until Cassian placed a gentle hand on your shoulder that you noticed his presence, his face soft with concern as he crouched next to you.

You blinked back at him, your vision completely blurred by your tears. You were broken and there was no hiding it.

“I love him, Cas,” you sobbed, your voice break halfway through as a cry shook through your body again.

“Oh, Y/N,” Cassian said softly, his voice full of understanding as he immediately embraced you. You flung yourself to him, wrapping your arms around his solid waist as he rocked and stroked your hair. You weren't surprised that Cassian knew, anyone could have noticed months of hopeless pining and one-sided puppy love.

You continued to cry, your voice muffle by the embrace. “What’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing Y/N! There’s not a thing wrong with you.”

“Then why doesn't he love me?”

“Because he’s a damn fool.”

You sniffed against his chest, trying to regain yourself. “But he loves her.”

Cassian sighed, the strokes on your hair pausing for just a moment. “I’m not sure that’s true.”

“Of course he does. She’s perfect.” Jealousy was not a good colour on you, but you were unsuccessful at hiding the bite in your words.

Cassian drew back, levelling his eyes to yours. “I know it hurts right now doll, but I promise, any male that doesn't see you for the beautiful, intelligent and fiery bombshell you are, is an outright imbecile. Even if it is my own brother.”

You chuckled at that, shaking your head as you gently wiped the makeup your were sure had stained under your eyes. “Thank you Cass,” you whispered, reaching for his hands tightly. He stood now, leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“Will you come back to the party with me?”

You forced a fake smile, but shook your head. “I happiest up here. Thank you though Cass, I mean it.”

Cassian nodded, throwing a tight smile of sympathy before ducking out of the room.

You paced to the other side of the viewing room to the window facing the terrace below where celebrations continued. Dresses of all colours fanned against the marble of the terrace, the music flowing up to the height of the room. And the stars, Gods they were beautiful.

You saw Cassian rejoin Nesta, his arms snaking around her waist as they admired the view. Next to them were your High Lord and Lady, and beside them, a dress of pale blush. Your heart stung with envy at the site of Elain, and you narrowed your eyes as you scanned the crowd for Azriel.

“Y/N?”

You jumped, whirling on the spot to find Azriel sheepishly standing in the doorway.

You cleared your throat, quickly wiping under your eyes again. He had hurt you, broken you without even knowing it. You straightened your spine – the least you could do was have your pride.

“Are you ok? Cassian said you left the party.”

You nodded tightly, not trusting yourself to speak.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The words flew out of your mouth too quickly.

Azriel frowned, stepping through the door towards you. You stiffened, drawing one step back. “Go back to the party Azriel,” you said tightly.

“Have you been crying?”

You scowled. How dare he note that detail when he was the one who caused it. “Don’t pretend to care,” you spat. Gone was the ache in your heart from moments ago. Seeing Azriel here now, it was quickly replaced with fiery hurt.

“What?” Azriels brow was now contort with confusion as he reached for you. You stepped back again, your arms folding over your chest.

“Why are you angry with me?”

“How can you ask that?”

“Is it because we’ve been distant lately?” So he did have some clue after all. You didn't answer, instead breaking from the intensity of his stare, your eyes focusing outside as glowing spirits that shot past the other side of the window.

“Listen, I know I haven't been around much, or maybe it’s that we haven't spent time together lately. But things have been difficult between us for a while now Y/N. I can't help but feel you’re pushing me away.”

A scoff escaped you before you could stop it. “I’m pushing you away?!”

“Yes!” He exclaimed, his hands outstretched. “For months now. You don't open up to me like you used to, every time I look at you, you look away, and you never suggest spending anytime together.”

You blinked at him, biting your lip as you tried to process what he had said. You hadn’t realised that in an attempt to burry your feelings for Azriel, you had actually pushed him away.

“Tell me, what have I done?” Azriel’s voice was pleading as he stepped closer.

“You haven't done anything,” your voice was barely a whisper, and you were unable to meet his eyes. You had stepped away so he could explore his feelings for Elain, that was your truth. But when was the last time he made an effort for you? “But you can't pretend like you’ve been trying either, Azriel.”

He sighed then, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re right, I’m sorry ok? I’ll make more of an effort from here on.”

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes again as you blinked quickly, casting your gaze sideways yet again. You couldn't tell him – it would ruin everything.

For once, Azriel caught on to how upset you were. “You’re still angry with me?”

“Gods, Az! I wish I was angry!”

The male blinked at you before frustration overtook. “Well perhaps you could stop talking in riddles, and actually tell me what’s wrong!” he gritted.

You let out a quick breath, shaking your hands as you blinked upwards, trying your best to stop the tears that welled. “I can’t,” you whispered. It would kill you to say it, and it would kill everything you two had.

Azriel’s gaze softened when he saw how tortured you were. Uncrossing his arms, he walked over, cupping the side of your face. “You can tell me anything, Y/N. Just tell me, what’s going on?”

His hazel eyes scanned your face, begging you to open up. But there was so much at stake here, and even if you confessed, you knew his heart lay with Elain.

You shook your head, moving out of his hold. “If you can’t see it for yourself Azriel, I don't know what to tell you.”

Azriel frowned. “You’re speaking in riddles again.”

You threw your hands up in defeat. “Perhaps I am,” you sighed, suddenly drained of any energy you had left. “Listen, I’m exhausted. Please Az, just enjoy the rest of your night, ok?”

“I’ll walk you to your room.”

“No,” you said too quickly. Guilt struck you at the twinge of hurt on Azriel’s face. “No, thank you. I’ll be fine.” Your voice was tight, and you quickly turned your heel, leaving Azriel still and silent as he watched you leave.

These feelings – these stupid, foolish, unrequited feelings. They hurt you and everyone involved, and you hated yourself for it. It was obvious Azriel didn’t return your affection, so why did you have to drag him down and cause a scene? You needed to do better, needed to push your love for him down, burry it in the depths of your heart so it would no longer get in his way.

————

You were in your room for barely an hour before there was a forceful knock on your door. You jumped, pulling down the length of your silk night slip as you spoke out loud. “Who is it?”

You door flew open then, Azriel’s large frame filling the entrance as he stepped inside, his expression wild, with another emotion you couldn't quite place. His wings were outstretched, and you could tell he had winnowed here hurriedly as his chest heaved with quick breaths.

Shocked, your eyes darted over him in panic. “Azriel, what –?”

Azriel stalked towards you, closing the distance as he towered over you.

“You love me?”

You gawked, your eyes moving back and forth as you tried to connect the dots. “Who–?”

“You love me?”

Cassian. You gritted your teeth and your fists clenched. How could he share something so private?

“No! I mean, yes, I mean, I have feelings for–”

“You, love, me…” he repeated, slower this time. It was no longer a question.

Your body burned in shame – you needed air. Pushing the double doors to your private balcony open, you grasped the railing as you tried to breath deep. Azriel was right on your tail.

“Az, I’m sorry. I’ll get over you. I promise. These feelings, they’re— they’re only temporary, I swear. I—I’ll get over you–”

Azriel bought a single scarred finger to your lips, hushing you instantly. You swallowed, panic in your eyes as they darted between his hazel ones, trying to read his reaction. As per usual, Azriel’s face was unreadable, the only movement was the gold that swirled within them.

“How long have you loved me?” he asked, his voice cold as ice. You felt as if you were tied to a chair, under his interrogation.

“Twelve months,” you whispered against his finger, your cheeks stinging in shame.

Azriel raised his brows. “So for a whole year, you have loved me, without so much as a thought to share that information?”

Your frowned in confusion. “I had no plans on telling you, Azriel. I didn't want to get in your way. You and Elain–”

“What of Elain and I?”

You levelled a look at him now. “C’mon Az, its clear you have affections for her.”

“You have no idea how I feel.” There was a bite to his words, something you weren't used to from the Shadowsinger. “I am a friend to Elain, because her transition as fae has been difficult. I enjoy her company, that’s true. But I am there to support her as my High Lady’s sister, and a member of our family. If I am someone she can trust, someone she can open up to, I will be there to support her.”

You sighed. “I understand that Az, but–”

The finger returned to your lips, cutting you off. “That does not mean –” Azriel drawled, his voice low, almost dangerous. “– that I have affections for her.” He was dancing with your emotions, using them against you to teach you a lesson.

You blinked back at him, your heart fluttering with realisation before denial quickly took over. “You love her,” you whispered, more to yourself, refusing to believe the dynamics you had built in your head were an embellishment of your own idiocy.

“I do not.”

“You do.”

“I do not.” Azriel’s voice was a growl now.

He moved in closer, and your heart began to thunder. The finger against your lip fell to cup your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. Azriel’s eyes swirled with dominance, his expression almost predatory as shadows danced between you. He leaned in close, his fresh scent filling your nose as his lips were now mere inches from your own.

“I have affections for someone else,” he said huskily. “One might even say I love her, for many years now.”

It took all that you had not to gawk. Instead, you kept your eyes on his. “Don’t mock,” you replied, your voice a half gasp as you tried to control your breathing.

Azriel’s mouth pulled into a smirk. “I’m not mocking.”

You flicked your gaze to his lips, then back up to his eyes, your expression bewildered and completely uncool.

“Azriel–” was all you got out before he closed his lips over yours, his arms snaking around your waist as he dipped you back, kissing you as the stars continued to fall around you.

--------

AN: I just want to say another HUGE thank you to anyone who's been following along with my fics, you mean the world to me <3 I hope you liked this story, I would love to hear any feedback you have. Please take care, and comment if you'd like to join any of my tag lists ✨:)

Tag list:@kennedy-brooke @cosmic-whispers @jazmin2211 @psychobookaholic @fieldofdaisiies

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goddess-in-heaven-and-hell · 2 years

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Something Wicked This Way Comes Pt. 1 - Gwynriel One Shot

We are baaack! This one-shot takes Gwyn and Azriel on their first mission together and will be all in all probably three parts long! Because I love anything witchy and this time of year I can’t stop myself, I’ve included witches in the ACOTAR world - but this is still centered around Gwynriel and their adventures.

I take prompts or ideas on how this story should progress, and also general requests.

Warnings: allusions to sex, allusions to non-con sex - nothing explicit; smut probably in the next parts :)

Word count: around 6k

Gwyn POV

For the third time in ten minutes Gwyn found herself rummaging through her backpack, mentally checking every item she laid hands on off her list. Her bed roll was there, a cannister of water as well as bread and dried fruit, two changes of leathers, and, last but not least, her notebook. Why the priestess deemed it necessary to carry the extra weight of an empty notebook and pen would be incomprehensible to anyone but her. Nevertheless, it didn’t take up that much space, and when faced with such an incredible opportunity to gain knowledge, her little scholar’s heart couldn’t resist.

Her own body was warmly packed in her fighting leathers, auburn hair bound tightly in a braid. All in all, she carried three weapons on her: a dagger strapped to her thigh and one in her boot, and a sword that lay heavily in its sheath down her spine. She never felt more ready in her life.

That didn’t suppress the storm of butterflies currently running amok in her stomach though. Especially not when she spotted her assigned leader for this mission.

The Shadowsinger made to land on the balcony of the house of wind, himself clad in a similar style to Gwyn. However, where Gwyn’s face was the portrait of excitement and anticipation, Azriel has never looked more sour. It was even more surprising to Gwyn that she could read his emotions so clearly on his face. He landed almost soundlessly next to Gwyn, eyes running over her armor and her baggage in an assessing glance.

“Good morning, Shadowsinger.”

“Good morning Berdara.”, he reached for her backpack to lift it, assessing its weight. A little frown graced his eyebrows. “You know that we don’t stay for that long. Did you really just pack what is necessary?”

Gwyn bristled, “Yes, I did. Are you worried I won’t be able to carry it?”

“No, I trained you. I know you can carry it.”, his eyes softened a bit, realizing that his comments sounded like critique. Within the first two minutes of being her leader on a mission. “It just seems heavy for the ground we have to cover within the next days.”

His expression became slightly more amused as he added, “You didn’t bring a novel with you, did you?”

Gwyn stared at him in shock. “What do you think I see this mission as? A little holiday? Of course, I didn’t bring a novel.” She didn’t add that she had thought about it, but the empty notebook seemed like a better idea. Gwyn made another mental note, namely, that she would never, under any circumstances, let him see the inside of her backpack, or she’d never hear the end of it.

Azriel just nodded his head solemnly. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to question your dedication.”

“Apology accepted, Shadowsinger.”

Mentioned Shadowsinger offered her a slight smile, but it seemed too forced to really assure Gwyn. Every fiber in his body looked tense, as if he was preparing to fly into a war instead of a spying mission that promised little to no altercations. That, in turn, made Gwyn nervous.

“Is everything alright? Did we have a change of plan?”, Gwyn crossed her arms in front of her body. She wanted to appear professional for this, especially since she was the only Valkyrie appointed for the mission. Nesta and Emerie were offered another task which took them to the human lands. Gwyn was hesitant at first, going on her first ever mission without her sisters seemed like an awful idea. But when she heard who’d lead said mission, her worries calmed immediately. Something about Azriel just made her feel save.

Azriel began fumbling with his hands, before noticing his outward sign of nervousness and hiding them behind his back. “Well, not necessarily a change of plan.”

He glanced at her, breathing out. “You already know that you’ll be part of a bigger scouting group. I was under the impression that I could choose some of my spies to come with us. Cassian just informed me this morning that none of my spies will be there.”

Gwyn really tried to keep the happiness out of her face. On a mission alone, with Azriel? It seemed like something simultaneously frightening and fantastic.

“We will be meeting three other fighters at the border of the Night court. Three Illyrians, to be exact.”

Oh Mother.

Azriel flinched at what he could read off Gwyn’s expression.

“I know this isn’t what you agreed to do. This also isn’t what I would have done. But since we try to form an alliance, the Illyrians insisted on sending their own representatives in fear of us turning our new potential allies against them.”

Gwyn gulped. This really wasn’t what she expected.

She heard from Emerie how incredibly backward the whole Illyrian race was, with the exception of Cassian and Azriel of course. They’d be picking on her throughout the whole mission, especially because she did what only a handful of their own managed to achieve. She was a Carynthian.

She was a Carynthian. She faced worse horrors in her life that three warriors, especially when Azriel would lead the group. Gwyn straightened her back, rolled her shoulders slightly and raised her chin. “So be it.”

Azriel flashed her a worried glance before nodding again. “They’ll try to throw you off. Make it seem like your win in the Blood Rite was due to luck. Try to not let it get to you. Remember your worth, and if worse comes to worse, I’ll stand between them and you, okay?”

“I can manage.”, Gwyn said levelly. The last thing she needed now was Azriel playing mother hen. Because if the Illyrians caught his protectiveness of her, she’d lose even the last ounce of respect they might have for her.

Azriel went into the house then to grab his own bag of things, significantly smaller that what Gwyn was carrying, before he first flew and then winnowed them both to the meeting point right at the border of the Night court.

Their mission was a simple one, really. They just needed to scout the nearly impenetrable woodland south of the border, not die from the ancient beasts that called it their home and find a species of supernatural beings that hadn’t been found in the last few hundred centuries to talk them into allying with them against Koschei. The witches that are rumored to occupy the woods also didn’t want to be found. But that’s exactly what hopefully is going to happen.

Gwyn mused why the Illyrians would voluntarily send some of their own into witch territory, given their innate hatred towards matriarchal groups. What would happen if they indeed found them? Gwyn’s fear of the three strange men instantly vanished when she thought about their goal.

None of the books in the library has even a slither of information on the witch covens that are scattered among the wild woods. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, not only for Gwyn, but also for the scholarship of the library.

If they managed to find a coven, and if they proved to be friendly.

As soon as Azriel’s shadows vanished from Gwyn’s sight, she heard the first taunting drawl of a deep voice.

“What the fuck is her business here?”

Three huge Illyrian males towered before her, even though Gwyn wasn’t exactly short for a female fae. All wore the same leathers, armed to the teeth with various different weapons, and all stared her down as if she was a fly in their lunch stew.

She straightened herself and threw them the closest thing to a Nesta-like stare she could muster. “I was appointed on this mission by my High Lord, as a representative of the Valkyrie. My name is Gwyn.”

The one on the left only snorted, immediately ignoring her reasons and searching Azriel’s gaze. “Is this supposed to be a joke? If it is, I don’t find it funny, commander.”

The word commander was laced with venom. Azriel didn’t respond at first, but his Shadows curled over his shoulder towards the males, as if to examine them. The Illyrians immediately took a step back, wariness written among their faces.

Gwyn wondered why everyone seemed to have such an extreme, negative reaction to the shadows. Sure, they were a mystery to everyone and gave Azriel a huge amount of power, but when unprovoked, they didn’t do harm. But she guessed that the group would have a negative attitude towards anything.

Azriel turned slightly towards Gwyn, and for a split second she worried that he would argue for her, but he only said. “Gwyn, these are Jarek, Alvey and Oscar. They were all participants during the last Blood Rite. Aktorsian, if I remember correctly?”

The three warriors looked livid, which was response enough. Azriel of course knew exactly what title they managed to achieve, that they made it through the rite, but didn’t come close to Ramiel. It was the most subtle way of encouraging Gwyn to stand her ground, while at the same time knocking the males’ attitude down a notch.

Ignoring the males, Azriel went on, his face a creepy mask of indifference. Gwyn had only seen him in his official role as Shadowsinger and spymaster once before, but back then she didn’t really notice the authority that laced every word. The unyielding command and dominance in them. “The plan is the following: we march south for a day or two, set camp then and use it as a base to scout the surrounding area for another couple of days. We can’t fly, since the trees are too dense to land properly.”

“We’ll take turns in who leads the group and who’ll be last. When we set camp for the night, I’ll appoint hunting and guarding duties. Questions?”

One of the males, Oscar, opened his mouth, eyes trailing over Gwyn, but Azriel cut him off before a sound made it out. “Questions concerning the plan, not the participants. Don’t waste my time with your whining.”

Oscar closed his mouth and threw Gwyn a hateful gaze instead. Azriel nodded then, motioning the group to start their mission. Gwyn’s very first mission, which led her outside of the Night court and into a potential groundbreaking alliance for the upcoming war.

Azriel POV

Azriel didn’t know what to think and the constant chatter of his Shadows didn’t help him one bit. He was worried, he was wary, but also undeniably happy to spend the next few days with Gwyneth. Azriel couldn’t exactly tell what made him so happy about that, but the more he pondered over it, the more inappropriate and scarier his thoughts got.

The last thing Gwyn needed on this cursed mission was a lovesick Illyrian bastard pining after her.

The movement helped though. His group wandered through the woodland for hours and hours, only stopping every now and then to drink a sip of water before continuing. He drove them to hike at a demanding pace, he knew that. But they needed to find some kind of cave before the sun set, or otherwise face the freezing air without shelter.

Almost religiously, Azriel’s attention wandered from their trail, to his Shadows, to Gwyn, only to start again. He wasn’t worried about her. The woman was a Carynthian, after all. But he couldn’t help watching her. She exuded such a good-spirited and curious attitude, that it was almost hard for Azriel to fight the smile that crept onto his face.

After another hour of wandering, which left them all slightly sweaty even in the chill air and shadowed woods, they reached the foot of a small mountain. They began their hike, which wasn’t an easy feat after the time spent carrying all their weapons and baggage.

If he was being honest, Gwyn seemed to be the least affected by it, himself and the Illyrians panting slightly with each step. He wondered if he spent too much time training the priestesses, and too little training for himself.

Oscar and Jarek made the front of their scouting team, finding paths and eliminating anything that hindered their progress. Gwyn followed after them, Azriel and Alvey securing the back.

He didn’t like that order one bit, especially after his Shadows informed him where Alvey’s eyes were glued to during their ascent.

He wondered if Gwyn noticed that slightly aroused scent that emanated off the Illyrian while he looked at her backside, and if Azriel could shove the male off a cliff without making it seem like intentional murder.

This was typical, ignorant behavior. First throwing insults at a female, then doing a full 180 towards inappropriate advances. The Illyrian way of flirting.

It was Gwyn, who, after what seemed like hours of hiking that left Azriel’s thighs burning, pointed to a cave entrance that seemed promising. Oscar scoffed, clearly annoyed that Gwyn of all people was first to prove herself helpful, but climbed up towards it anyways. After he gave his okay, the whole group gathered at its entrance. The sun almost set, which left them with a good hour to build a fire, hunt, gather more water and scout the surroundings for any wild animal that didn’t like its new neighbors. Azriel immediately appointed everyone to their task.

That he and Gwyn would be left to secure the cave and the fire while the others went further into the mountain was absolutely unintentional.

“How do you find your first mission so far priestess?”, Azriel asked in a conversational tone as Gwyn kindled the fire. He himself kept a healthy distance.

Gwyn responded in a heartbeat. “It is so exciting!”, her cheeks had a pretty blush of pink to them, teal eyes glistening at him. “These woods seem so different from the Night court. Wilder, somehow. Like even the mother left this place to let it thrive on its own. Did you see the lizard we passed? It was the brightest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. I need to look up the name of it when we return.”

Azriel smiled at her, not even remembering why he was so pissed during the beginning of their journey. With Gwyn, somehow, nothing seemed bad.

“You do that.”

Gwyn had successfully started the fire, the flames dancing merrily in their newly found freedom. She surveyed the camp, which was laid out perfectly, and then turned to Azriel. “Should we look around a bit? Maybe gather some more wood?”

Azriel nodded and stood, even though his Shadows had declared the area around the cave safe a few minutes ago.

The both of them wandered around a bit, picking up some more wood as they went. Gwyn giggled softly to herself when she noticed that Azriel’s shadows were able to carry the wood for her, letting it disappear in their own mysterious way. She was even more amused when she noticed that they left Azriel to carry his stack on his own.

His shadows grew more and more playful with her, and Azriel noticed with a start that he didn’t like that. Jealous of his own damn Shadows, for the love of the Mother. They were a part of him, but still managed to approach Gwyn in a more friendly and easy way than he was able to.

There was also less of a chance that they embarrassed themselves in front of her, since they didn’t talk.

After rounding a corner, now again a little lower on the mountain, Azriel heard the rush of water. He turned to Gwyn, who had already picked up on it, her smile widening even further.

“A waterfall?”

“Possibly.”

And indeed. Nestled into the harsh cliffs was a modest waterfall that flowed into a rocky lake before continuing to trail down the mountain.

“This is magnificent.”, Gwyn made her way towards the shore to try the temperature of the water, “Its pretty, an opportunity to wash and for us to stock up on water.” She grimaced a little when her hand met said water. “A little cold, though.”

The both of them returned to camp, now met again with the three unwanted companions. Azriel had almost forgotten they existed; his thoughts so thoroughly occupied with Gwyn.

The group ate at sundown. It was more than awkward.

The three Illyrians didn’t speak much, probably not wanting Gwyn to hear what they have to say. Not that it would be anything of note. Gwyn seemed a little more on edge too, since the males undivided attention was on her. Azriel did his best to throw metaphorical daggers their way. If they made only one comment, let alone think about touching or hurting her somehow, these daggers wouldn’t remain metaphorical much longer.

“Gwyn and I found a waterfall and lake nearby. Just a few minutes’ walk.”, he informed his team out of necessity. Sweaty Illyrians, he knew from experience, weren’t something to be tolerate for more than a day.

It was Jarek who answered, “Good. I’ll go to wash first.”

Azriel thought for a second that this was progress, a hint of a civil conversation, when the jerk added: “Gwynie can come keep me company. I’m much too tired to wash myself.”

He and his friends began snickering, throwing Gwyn glances of amusement, but also heat. As much as they hated her for being a female and a warrior, they still couldn’t help their instincts. Azriel loathed them with a passion.

Gwyn was so visibly uncomfortable it hurt his soul. His shadows snaked their way towards her, grazing her shoulder unnoticed to the Illyrians in a weak attempt to comfort her. She still leveled her attention towards Jarek. “If a day’s worth of hiking is too much for you, then I’m glad you didn’t make it to Ramiel. You would have needed assistance for weeks after.”

That wiped the smirk right off his face. Azriel snorted a laugh.

“As if you bitch made it to Ramiel on your own. As if you could achieve anything without a male assisting you. That’s why you’re on this mission, aren’t you?”, Jarek jerked his chin towards Azriel, “You two fuck.”

This was worse than anything Azriel had anticipated. Telling Gwyn she was unworthy of her title – that much he expected. But insinuating her achievements were because of her acquaintance with him was another low.

Gwyn’s eyes narrowed. She also started blushing profusely, but the night hid her reaction from the males for the most part.

“I am on this mission because I am a capable warrior. I made it to the top of Ramiel with the help of my two friends, both of them female as well. You might have heard: Emerie made it a Carynthian, Nesta an Ostrian. Speak to me again about deserving to be on a mission when you can match that title.”

The males scoffed, but didn’t return another hateful comment as Azriel interjected. “Jarek, go wash. Take your friends with you, its dark and some beasts might be awake already.”

They stared at him. So he repeated, his voice sounding like steel. “Go.”

They left, talking some soap with them and muttering under their breaths what was surely a glowing review of his leadership qualities.

As soon as they were out of sight, Gwyn slumped in on herself, hiding her face beneath her hands. She breathed loudly, steadily, and Azriel noticed with sorrow that she used the mind-stilling techniques of the Valkyrie to deal with this situation.

Azriel was overcome with disappointment and regret. This should have been the perfect first mission for her, should have made her more confident in visiting foreign places, in her abilities. Instead, she had to listen to the constant insults of three Illyrians, without another female here to vent to. Azriel didn’t know if she’d be comfortable enough sharing her sorrow with him.

After a few minutes, Gwyn moved again, locking sight with Azriel. “They really had to go there, didn’t they?”, she smiled weakly, but Azriel applauded her internally that she was able to handle this so well.

He nodded. “If there is anything you want me to do about it, all you have to do is ask.”

Now it was her turn to nod.

“I know. But I’d rather manage this on my own. It’s enough that they think I was appointed on this mission because … you know.”

“Berdara, let me tell you this much: you are an incredible warrior. Don’t think for a second that Rhys sent you here because of your friendship with Nesta, or Cassian, or me.”

Gwyn smiled timidly. “You consider yourself my friend?”

Yes. No. More. “I do.”

She reached for his hand and it took everything in him to not yank that despicable thing away from her. Her own hands felt cold, but incredibly soft as she laced her fingers with his and squeezed reassuringly. “I do too.”

Now he felt even more ashamed. He was so happy Gwyn considered him a friend, but equally unhappy that there would never be more between them.

He flashed her a small smile. “You’re cold.”

Azriel brought his other hand towards their already intertwined ones to fully enclose Gwyn’s, the tangle of digits finding a resting place on Gwyn’s knee.

And she didn’t try to pull away.

Gwyn POV

It felt so right. To sit here with him, by the fire, and hold his hand. His steady and calm presence was enough to put her at peace again. Her thumb traced the side of one of his hands, feeling the highs and lows of the scar tissue that snaked all across his skin. She hoped she didn’t overstep. As confident as Azriel is, he made a point in not touching people unnecessarily. But he considered her a friend.

Gwyn’s heart painfully contracted at the thought. She was glad he deemed her worthy of his friendship, but also wondered if he’d ever consider seeing her as more than that. She certainly was head over heels for the Shadowsinger.

They sat there for what felt like hours, staring into the fire, hearing the woods come to life around them, and holding onto each other. Only when the noises of animals and plants were interrupted by laughter and chattering, Gwyn was pulled back into reality. She quickly pulled her hand from underneath Azriel’s as the three Illyrians approached. The last thing they needed to witness was Gwyn’s closeness to Azriel.

The Shadowsinger beside her also straightened were he sat on the ground. Like he too was reminded of the reality they were in and the need to put on his guard.

It was Oscar who passed the pair in way too close proximity to Gwyn, saying, “Waterfall’s all free to use. If you two want to get it on, do it there. I don’t want to hear any sex noises tonight.”

Gwyn expected herself to be more flustered at the words, but her body’s reaction never came. That certainly was an improvement from before, when her skin practically caught flame at the insinuation that Azriel and her were intimate. Not only because she didn’t want to hear such things coming from three intimidating males, but also because their words weren’t far off from Gwyn’s own fantasies.

At least when it came to the Shadowsinger.

“I guess it’s my turn then.”, she announced, grabbing a few utensils to wash with and her canister to refill. Just as she was about to enter the trail leading to the waterfall, she heard shuffling footsteps behind her. A warm, calloused hand grabbed for her arm. Turning around, her eyes were met with Azriel.

“I should come with you.”

Gwyn’s heart might actually have stopped for a beat. He couldn’t be serious.

Azriel cleared his throat. “I should keep watch. In case our companions get ideas.”

Gwyn’s eyes travelled, only to find two of them standing near the fire and smirking at what they undoubtedly thought was Azriel inviting himself to Gwyn’s shower.

Azriel continued, “I would obviously turn away, but I’d be there just in case. If you are comfortable with that.”

Gwyn’s mind raced. If Azriel followed her, the Illyrians would have their ‘confirmation’ – they’d undoubtedly think Gwyn was only here because of Az. But on the other hand, she really didn’t feel like going into the woods alone. She was trained, of course, but against three males all at once, she doubted she’d have the upper hand.

Azriel still stood before her, waiting patiently for an answer.

“That seems like a reasonable idea.”

She turned and was on her way before she could read Azriel’s expression. He probably already regretted taking her on this mission when all he had to do for the last hours was to play babysitter for her and her anxiety. Despite her not wanting him to fight her battles, Gwyn had noticed how his eyes trailed over her every now and then, how his Shadows were sent to comfort her. He thought she was a nervous wreck, and his offer to keep watch now was just another confirmation of that.

They reached the waterfall. It was nearly completely dark by now, only the very last tendrils of light gracing the horizon.

Azriel stopped by the edge of the lake, flashing her another reassuring smile before turning and sitting down. Only now Gwyn realized, that she’d be completely naked within a few meters of the Shadowsinger in a moment. The thought excited her more that she’d wanted to acknowledge.

Gwyn stripped bare. Her sweaty leathers were put to the side, her hair pined up to not get wet. She couldn’t help casting nervous glances at Azriel’s back from time to time. She knew he wouldn’t betray her trust, but wondered if she wanted him to.

Any sexual thought was quickly buried however, as soon as her legs carried her under the stream of water.

She shrieked so loudly, any animal in closer proximity was probably on alert now.

Azriel only laughed from his watching place near her.

“What is so funny, Shadowsinger?”, Gwyn called out to him, grinning herself. The water wasn’t that cold; it just took her by surprise.

“The fact that for all the time we needed to secure the area around the cave, making sure no beast loomed in a corner, we simply could have let you shower to scare them away.”, his amusement was still clear in his voice. “If we’re lucky, you might have scared the three assholes away, too.”

Gwyn spread some soap on her hands while answering. “Or they think something killed me off. In that case, they are probably celebrating as we speak.”

Azriel scoffed out a breath, before his head fell forward, exposing his neck and the tendrils of black ink peeking from the seam of his armor. Gwyn wished she could trace the intricate tattoos with her finger.

They both fell silent again. Gwyn rinsed off the soap before stepping out of the stream. Then she realized.

She didn’t bring a towel. Or any sort if fabric to dry herself with.

“Uh, Azriel. I’ve encountered a problem.”

“Do you?”

“I kind of forgot to bring a towel.”

Silence. Then he spoke again, another laugh barely contained. “Your backpack weights about the same as you, and you didn’t even bring a towel?”

Gwyn’s eyes narrowed. “It’s not funny one bit! How am I supposed to dry now. If I just wait until I dry, I’ll freeze to death.”

“You could always try to roll around in some grass.”

Gwyn couldn’t help laughing now. She’d never heard him joke this much. It made him all the more endearing.

“I have an idea.”, he finally shared through his amusement, “I can send my shadows to get my cloak. Its not a towel exactly, but better than trying to get into your leathers again.”

Gwyn signed in relief. “That would be brilliant.”

The Shadows didn’t need to be told twice, already on their way to camp. Maybe they could scare the Illyrians a little while they are at it.

After just a few seconds, the wall of black returned, dropping a cozy looking black coat in front of Gwyn, and some more bathing utensils in front of their master.

Gwyn wrapped herself in the soft fabric. It smelled like Azriel and Gwyn thanked the Mother for making her forget the stupid towel. Completely encompassed in the cloak, Gwyn grabbed her stuff and went towards Az.

“All good.”, she declared.

When he looked at her, rising from his seated position at the lake, the smile that graced his lips quickly subsided.

“What?” Gwyn quickly scanned her body, fearing that she just flashed him.

Azriel only shook his head, murmuring something noncommittal as he passed her. Gwyn turned towards him, a little confused at his sudden change of mood. But before she could open her mouth again to pry him for a better answer, she witnessed how the Shadowsinger yanked his shirt over his head, stripping bare before her.

Azriel POV

He felt her eyes stare at his back, right where his wings met the tan expanse of skin.

“Something wrong?”, he asked, just slightly on edge. He thought Gwyn was just going to dry herself using the cloak, and not wear the damn thing.

Gwyn blushed a pretty shade of pink, before quickly turning and mimicking his seating position from before.

“I just didn’t think that you’d wash too.”, she called over her shoulder.

Azriel stayed with his back to hers and prayed to the Mother and any deity that might hear him that Gwyn stayed turned too. They would never recover from what she might see if she glanced at the wrong moment.

The second Azriel saw Gwyn wrapped in his cloak, his instincts ran amok. It didn’t help that she was completely naked underneath it, looking like she just stumbled out of his bed. His scent would be all over her now, claiming her, just as her scent would remain on his cloak. He wondered with how many days of not washing it he would get away with. He was going to hell for this.

The undeniable, massive effect this whole disaster had on him better remained hidden. Especially from Gwyn.

He quickly showered, thankful for the icy cold that took care of his problem and hopefully masked a good chunk of his arousal as well. His Shadows would deal with the rest.

Gwyn remained seated, barely moving. There was a little bit of tension radiating off her, and Azriel realized with a start that he just started stripping with her nearby, without even asking her if she was alright.

He finished, patted himself dry with his old clothing before stepping into a new set.

“Gwyneth?”, he asked quietly.

She turned her head, face still showing the signs of her embarrassment. “Yes?”

“I’m sorry for just showering without asking you first.”

Gwyn’s brows scrunched together. “Why would you have to ask me before you shower?”

“I didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

Gwyn laughed. Loudly, easily laughed at him. “Do you think you are such an intimidating sight that I can’t even stand to be within a few feet from you while you’re naked? While not even looking at you?”

Now it was his turn to be embarrassed. “Well, no, I –“

The Valkyrie cut him off by standing, her nose just barely level with his chin. If he concentrated, he might just be able to count every single freckle that splattered across her nose. Her tone interrupted his thoughts though. “Stop coddling me. I’ve never been afraid of you and that won’t change.”

“I- okay.”, he felt relieved that he didn’t just make her relive her trauma.

“And, while we’re at it.”, Gwyn’s hands found her hips. Azriel felt like he was 15 again, getting scolded by Rhys’ mother. “I also don’t appreciate the general coddling you have been doing throughout the mission. I noticed how you always watch me, how you send your shadows to comfort me. And while it is a nice sentiment, I have no need for it.”

She stared at him like she might expect him to argue. But he was way too astonished for that. “Of course, apologies.”

Gwyn just nodded, happy with herself.

They agreed for Gwyn to vanish in the thicket to slip into her clothing again, now dry thanks to his cloak, before making their way back to the camp.

Azriel was in a panicked inner dialogue with his shadows. If Gwyn blatantly caught him staring at her, it was a miracle she didn’t guess his feelings, that she dismissed it as worry. He clung to his cloak, now slightly wet, all of his senses surrounded by Gwyn’s scent. He needed to get a grip fast.

When they returned to camp, the three Illyrians were already wrapped in their bedrolls, waiting for their entrance.

“Look, they are already here! With that scream we heard, she must be a good fuck.”, one of them said. Azriel didn’t even bother making out the source of the voice.

“Jarek is on guarding duties first, then Oscar, then me, then Gwyn, lastly Alvey. Everybody got that?”

His team murmured their agreement.

Gwyn, meanwhile, had sneaked further into the cave, nearly swallowed by darkness. She set her bedroll and backpack there, a good distance from the Illyrians and their obnoxious stares. Azriel laid down in-between, but with enough space for Gwyn to hopefully not feel coddled.

His cloak, he decided, would make a nice pillow.

As night set around them and owls hooted into the void, the group slowly drifted off to sleep. Azriel, despite the less than comfortable ground, found himself incredibly relaxed. Which, according to his shadows, couldn’t be said for Gwyn.

“Azriel?”

A hiss slithered through the darkness, barely loud enough for him to hear.

“What?”, he hissed back.

When no answer came back, Azriel took his things and scooted closer to Gwyn. His shadows formed a wall between them and the rest of the team.

“Are you okay?”, he asked again, this time searching for her beautiful teal eyes in the dark.

Her head poked out of the blanket, eyes filled with concern.

“I just-“, she broke off, clearly unsure of what to say.

Azriel waited patiently.

“It is weird for me. To not sleep in the library. And to sleep so close to males.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I can move back again.”

“No!”, Gwyn said a little too loudly. She looked around for the other males who remained sleeping.

“Don’t worry, they won’t be able to hear us.”

Gwyn nodded, relaxing into her bedroll again. But Azriel still was none the wiser

“So, what do you want me to do?”, he asked her. Surely this counted as coddling, and he didn’t want to overstep yet again.

Gwyn signed. “Just stay here?”

Her voice was so small, so unsure that it nearly broke his heart.

“I will.” Then he did something that was astounding, even to him.

He reached out his arm across the cold stone floor, until his hand lay poised at the edge of Gwyn’s bedroll. Palm up. An invitation.

The Valkyrie smiled, her hand freeing itself from underneath her blanket. This time, it was her hand that warmed his as she intertwined their fingers. She pulled their hands closer, until they rested just before her face. He could even feel her breath.

His Shadows would wake him just before his guarding shift with enough time to scootch back again, giving the Illyrians the impression that they slept separately. But for now, during these delicate, intimate hours, he would cherish her closeness. Her trust in him. And he would watch over her.

#gwynriel #azriel x gwyn #gwyn x azriel #acotar writing #acotar #friends to lovers #jealous az

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