Summary: Reader awakens in the night to restless thoughts of her twin and his mate, only to catch Azriel in the middle of his own brooding. Tension ensues.
Warnings/labels: 18+, banter, angst if you squint, sexual tension, drabble?
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The tall, night blooming bushes clawing at the windows of the townhouse were enough to rouse you from what was almost a restful sleep. When did the wind pick up? You weren’t sure. How long had you been lying there in the silken sheets of that guest room, tossing and turning aimlessly? You must’ve been trying to fall asleep for hours, but instead you found yourself sending silent pleas to the Mother to silence your racing thoughts. Unfamiliar places tended to have this effect on you.
You weren’t exactly sure what started the spiral, but you knew you were susceptible to them, one of the many traits you shared with your twin brother, Lucien. It was he who laid claim to half of your thoughts in the past couple of hours. Your worry consumed you. How is it that his mate could be sleeping under the same roof as him, yet still want nothing to do with him? You hated Elain. Hated her more than you allowed yourself to admit. Lucien was good. Caring. Deserving of the love that had been taken from him time and time again, and Elain wanted Azriel, the male who occupied the rest of your mind.
You were sure he hated you if he ever allowed his thoughts to even drift your way, yet it was him that flooded so much of your mind. Maybe it was selfish of you to let yourself have these feelings for someone so incredibly unattainable when they could easily affect the wellbeing of the people around you. To be so infatuated with someone who openly and undoubtedly disdained your entire bloodline for reasons that went beyond petty hatred. Yet, you had a knack for wanting things you could never have.
A small sound from the hallway interrupted your thoughts. Footsteps so light, you almost thought you imagined them, floated past your door. Lucien, you thought. You knew you should’ve let him sleep, or at least tried to. You knew it was hard for him these days, and being within such close proximity to his mate for once would either aid his sleep or eliminate the prospect entirely.
Your feet hit the floor instinctively. You exhaled a breath of relief, knowing Lucien was awake, but the relief was short-lived as the question of what he could possibly be doing arose. You furrowed your brows and headed for the door, opening it before you could reconsider your decision. A glance to your right told you that Lucien’s door was closed. Lucien, who you realized could very well still be asleep. Your eyes wandered to the door across the hall. Azriel. Wouldn’t that be funny, you thought to yourself, humorlessly. Though the invisible tug you felt in your chest, growing stronger, that pulled you into the hallway and down the wooden staircase said otherwise. You always felt this when Lucien needed you. The bond between fae twins was something that was second to only the mating bond between two fated lovers. Or so you’d been told. You’d only been described the feel of a mating bond by Lucien, and his description made it sound like pure agony.
Peeking around the corner at the bottom of the staircase, your eyes landed on the figure in front of the large, moonlit window. You immediately noticed that attached to the figure were the silhouettes of two very large wings. You were going to throw up. You were going to die right there on the spot, but just before you could save yourself and turn around, the Shadowsinger, whose shadows now climbed up and around him, alerting him of your presence, spun around to face you, and just like that, it was too late.
For a long moment, you stood there. Noticing how the light behind him shone through his outstretched wings ever so slightly, and as if he could read your mind, he relaxed them, tucking them in.
“Y/n.”
His midnight voice, strangled by thorns, still dripped with honey.
“I thought you were Lucien.”
He glanced down at his feet, nodding. “I figured as much.”
You swallowed. “Sorry to bother you.”
“You’re not bothering me.”
Just as you were about to turn around, something within you pulsed with energy. Maybe it was the dead of the night grasping you with its claws, forcing you to air out your thoughts as if nothing in front of you was real, because it certainly didn’t seem like it, but something came out of you that you never would’ve let past your lips in any other circumstance.
“Do you hate me?”
“What?”
It was at that exact moment that your senses came rushing back to you, begging you to run upstairs and forget this interaction ever happened, but your foot left the last step, and you found yourself in front of him, repeating yourself.
“Do you hate me, Shadowsinger?”
“Why would I hate you?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
From this close, you could make out his handsome face clearly. His expression was unreadable as he swallowed. “What are you doing up?” He changed the subject.
“Couldn’t sleep. Too busy worrying about my brother and his mate.” You refrained from emphasizing the ‘his.’
He nodded, and it was then you realized he was probably up for the same reason, but you asked anyway. “You?”
He said nothing, only reaching with a scarred, siphonless hand for a glass bottle of dark liquid on a nearby table and poured it into a crystal glass, the moonlight glistening on the steady stream. He looked at you, a silent offer, and nodded once toward the bottle he hadn’t yet set down. You gestured to the empty glass next to his, and you watched him pour yet again.
You doubted he was expecting you to down it all in one go, and the quick flicker of surprise across his features only confirmed the suspicion when you did.
“If you think i hate you because of your brothers, you’re sorely mistaken.” He sipped from his glass, his already quiet voice lowering, “but can I just ask, why would it matter?”
The words landed heavier than the liquor in your stomach. Because you occupy my every waking thought. Every corner of my mind. Because I can’t stand the thought of you hating me, and if you did, I would unravel. But none of that reached your lips.
Instead, you managed, “maybe I care too much what people think.”
His gaze was unwavering, unreadable as ever as a shadow danced around the rim of your glass tauntingly, as if to say, liar.
Undoubtedly taking the advice of his shadows, the corner of his mouth twitched in a bitter smirk.
“Your lies need practice.”
You were thankful for the dark, as it hid the red heat rushing to your face. Though you were Autumn Court born and raised, the fire that normally coursed through your blood found itself restrained tonight. The thought of every witty quip and comeback you had ever said seemed to disappear tonight, so you said nothing, only becoming acutely aware of the tiny nightgown you wore.
Azriel seemed content in the silence as he moved to sit in the armchair next to the glass you hadn’t noticed he had set down. His wings splayed lazily over the back of the chair as you stood and watched, half embarrassed, half something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
“I don’t hate you,” he broke the silence, “since you care.”
“I don’t.” The lie came too quickly to be natural.
One of his shadows twitched, as if laughing on his behalf. His expression remained indifferent.
“Then why does it feel like you do?”
Your mouth opened, but the answer never came. You could feel the truth in your chest buried deep down. It never had a chance.
He waited, shadows circling him as he downed the rest of his glass, his gaze lingering on the empty glass in his hands. One shadow made its way to you—tentative and questioning. It wrapped around your torso, assessing you. You wondered what it was thinking as it brushed against the fabric of your gown, tightening and loosening around your waist. You could feel its cool tendrils brushing against you, almost possessively. The sensation filled you with delicious heat. Azriel never looked away from his glass, the picture of cool indifference.
“Do they always do that?” Your voice was barely a whisper, but enough for his eyes to meet yours.
“Only when they see something they like.”
Your breath caught. His words sent heat pooling deep in your stomach. He looked down again, disinterested.
“I didn’t mean-“ you started.
“Didn’t mean what?” His tone shifted. The way he spoke now was teasing yet commanding—almost dominant. It awakened something within you that you had half a mind to shove deep, deep down.
“For you to see me.”
“And what am I supposed to do about that?”
Your fingers, which you didn’t realize were clutching your gown, tightened as his shadows inversely loosened their grip on your waist, exposing you to him.
“I- I don’t know,” you admitted, eyes locked on the corner of his mouth as it quirked up slightly.
He simply leaned back in the chair, setting his glass on the table beside him with a soft clink. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, an emotion present in them that you couldn’t decipher.
“You should go to sleep.”
And with that, you were up the stairs, and back in your bed.
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Y’all this is my first fanfic ahhhhh pls lmk what you think!!! I’m lowkey nervous
Ps. I love Elain. Not too much on my girl. (I’m also an Elriel girly)
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