your feelings for azriel have been eating at you for the longest time, and on the most beautiful night of the year, you simply can't hold them back any longer.
a fear like no other
azriel never believed he was worthy enough for a mating bond. so when it suddenly snaps for him, he doesn't quite know what to do.
the ways of love ☆
for an illyrian warrior with a knack for vengeance, there are a number of ways in which azriel loves.
summary: for an illyrian warrior with a knack for vengeance, there are a number of ways in which azriel loves.
word count: 912
a/n: short but sweet <3
warnings: a bit of smut
Azriel had always been full of love, but he simply had nowhere to put it. But when you finally waltzed into his life, with that hypnotic smile and contagious laugh, he finally knew what to do with it all.
—
He always woke up long before you did, and in those early hours of the morning, he would trace his fingers along the lines of your back. He'd lean forward and brush his lips against the shell of your ear, and whisper, "It's time to get up, sweetheart."
He'd laugh at your groans of protest, and he'd gently roll you over onto your back so he could dip down and capture your lips in a sweet kiss. As gorgeous as you were, and as much as he wanted to stay in with you for the remainder of the day, that wouldn't stop him from peeling the blankets off your body, and taking your hands in his to pull you up from the bed.
—
He sometimes left books in random areas of the house for you to find. Not because he was incapable of cleaning up after himself—of course not—but because he'd found a phrase in it that made him think of you, his mate.
Whether it was a line or passage that he thought you'd like, or something that reminded him of you, he'd dog-ear the page and leave it for you to read—something small he hoped would brighten your day, even just a little.
Occasionally, he'd find something a little spicier (courtesy of Nesta's recommendations), and he'd leave a note beside it saying, 'Something you and I could recreate tonight, perhaps,' and when he would see you that night, with a sultry look on your face, he'd know you received his message.
—
Azriel is typically rougher in the sheets, but whatever you ask of him, he'll give to you. If you wanted him to be gentle, he wouldn't be anything less. If you wanted him faster and harder, Mother above, he would hardly be able to contain himself.
He'd kiss his way down your body, making sure not to leave any part of you untouched—to him, you were a goddess who needed to be worshipped. He'd glance up from the space between your legs, giving you a smirk before teasingly licking up your slick folds. Your body would jolt from the sensation, and he'd push his tongue just a little deeper, savouring the way you felt on his mouth.
"You taste so good, sweetheart," he'd whisper, and he'd drink up the sound of your moans, your breathless gasps and the way you said his name.
It wouldn't take him long to make his way back up your body, where he would grasp your hips and push himself inside you, watching how your face contorted in pleasure. You'd meet him with each thrust of his hips, and he'd lean down to whisper in your ear.
"You're doing wonderful, baby," he'd murmur. "Always taking me so well..."
He'd ride you through each and every orgasm, and Gods, was it hard not to let himself come before you did. At the end of it all, he'd wrap you in his arms and kiss you deeply before muttering, "You're beautiful."
—
Azriel had memorised every little thing about you. The inflection of your laugh, the register of your voice, the way your smile reached your eyes, the curves of your body that fit perfectly against his, and so much more.
He'd memorised certain things you'd said in passing, so much so that perhaps he knew you more than you knew yourself. He often caught you off guard with some of the things he'd say, and when you'd ask him, "How on Prythian did you know that?", he'd only press a kiss to your hair and say, "It's my job to know things, sweetheart."
—
After a long day of work, when all he wanted was to be in your company, the spymaster would take you for a stroll along the Sidra—just the two of you. On the colder nights, he'd tuck his wing around your body to shield you away from the cold, and also as an excuse to have you just a little closer to him (but he wouldn't admit that).
Your existing beauty would be highlighted in the glow of the moonlight, and he would wonder to himself how he ever managed to make you fall for him—the most ethereal female he'd ever laid eyes on.
He'd wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you even closer, because a part of him thinks that this all might be a dream. That if he doesn't hold onto you tight enough, you'll slip away from him as he slinks back into consciousness.
As if sensing his thoughts, you'd stop walking for a moment and place your hands on either side of his face, bringing him down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He'd blink, and you'd smile and continue walking as if you'd done nothing, and he'd laugh and think to himself, She's going to be the death of me.
—
Azriel loved you in ways that no one else could. He loved in a way that was so tender and moving—it was hard to believe that a warrior like him could be capable of something like that. But Azriel had always had the capacity to love, and with you now in his life, that capacity would only grow.
summary: for an illyrian warrior with a knack for vengeance, there are a number of ways in which azriel loves.
word count: 912
a/n: short but sweet <3
warnings: a bit of smut
Azriel had always been full of love, but he simply had nowhere to put it. But when you finally waltzed into his life, with that hypnotic smile and contagious laugh, he finally knew what to do with it all.
—
He always woke up long before you did, and in those early hours of the morning, he would trace his fingers along the lines of your back. He'd lean forward and brush his lips against the shell of your ear, and whisper, "It's time to get up, sweetheart."
He'd laugh at your groans of protest, and he'd gently roll you over onto your back so he could dip down and capture your lips in a sweet kiss. As gorgeous as you were, and as much as he wanted to stay in with you for the remainder of the day, that wouldn't stop him from peeling the blankets off your body, and taking your hands in his to pull you up from the bed.
—
He sometimes left books in random areas of the house for you to find. Not because he was incapable of cleaning up after himself—of course not—but because he'd found a phrase in it that made him think of you, his mate.
Whether it was a line or passage that he thought you'd like, or something that reminded him of you, he'd dog-ear the page and leave it for you to read—something small he hoped would brighten your day, even just a little.
Occasionally, he'd find something a little spicier (courtesy of Nesta's recommendations), and he'd leave a note beside it saying, 'Something you and I could recreate tonight, perhaps,' and when he would see you that night, with a sultry look on your face, he'd know you received his message.
—
Azriel is typically rougher in the sheets, but whatever you ask of him, he'll give to you. If you wanted him to be gentle, he wouldn't be anything less. If you wanted him faster and harder, Mother above, he would hardly be able to contain himself.
He'd kiss his way down your body, making sure not to leave any part of you untouched—to him, you were a goddess who needed to be worshipped. He'd glance up from the space between your legs, giving you a smirk before teasingly licking up your slick folds. Your body would jolt from the sensation, and he'd push his tongue just a little deeper, savouring the way you felt on his mouth.
"You taste so good, sweetheart," he'd whisper, and he'd drink up the sound of your moans, your breathless gasps and the way you said his name.
It wouldn't take him long to make his way back up your body, where he would grasp your hips and push himself inside you, watching how your face contorted in pleasure. You'd meet him with each thrust of his hips, and he'd lean down to whisper in your ear.
"You're doing wonderful, baby," he'd murmur. "Always taking me so well..."
He'd ride you through each and every orgasm, and Gods, was it hard not to let himself come before you did. At the end of it all, he'd wrap you in his arms and kiss you deeply before muttering, "You're beautiful."
—
Azriel had memorised every little thing about you. The inflection of your laugh, the register of your voice, the way your smile reached your eyes, the curves of your body that fit perfectly against his, and so much more.
He'd memorised certain things you'd said in passing, so much so that perhaps he knew you more than you knew yourself. He often caught you off guard with some of the things he'd say, and when you'd ask him, "How on Prythian did you know that?", he'd only press a kiss to your hair and say, "It's my job to know things, sweetheart."
—
After a long day of work, when all he wanted was to be in your company, the spymaster would take you for a stroll along the Sidra—just the two of you. On the colder nights, he'd tuck his wing around your body to shield you away from the cold, and also as an excuse to have you just a little closer to him (but he wouldn't admit that).
Your existing beauty would be highlighted in the glow of the moonlight, and he would wonder to himself how he ever managed to make you fall for him—the most ethereal female he'd ever laid eyes on.
He'd wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you even closer, because a part of him thinks that this all might be a dream. That if he doesn't hold onto you tight enough, you'll slip away from him as he slinks back into consciousness.
As if sensing his thoughts, you'd stop walking for a moment and place your hands on either side of his face, bringing him down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. He'd blink, and you'd smile and continue walking as if you'd done nothing, and he'd laugh and think to himself, She's going to be the death of me.
—
Azriel loved you in ways that no one else could. He loved in a way that was so tender and moving—it was hard to believe that a warrior like him could be capable of something like that. But Azriel had always had the capacity to love, and with you now in his life, that capacity would only grow.
summary: azriel never believed he was worthy enough for a mating bond. so when it suddenly snaps for him, he doesn't quite know what to do.
word count: 1,076
a/n: another lil oneshot :) a bit of angst if you squint, but overall fluff
Azriel had felt fear before. He'd felt it while living his father's keep. He'd felt it when his hands were set ablaze—when the pain of the embers had twisted and morphed onto his skin, leaving a permanent scar to forever remind him of that day. He'd felt it when his wings were nearly destroyed by one of Hybern's naga-hounds. He'd felt it most of all when Rhys' life had vanished right before his eyes.
Fear. It was a feeling that no one particularly enjoyed, and for Azriel, the sense of uncontrollability was what he hated most about it. He'd felt it in a number of shapes, sizes, and forms, but this particular sort of fear... it was new and indecipherable.
He didn't know which was most frightening—the fact that you'd come into his life so quickly, like a fierce gust of wind; or that dreaded feeling of hopelessness that would wash over him whenever he thought of you.
The mating bond had snapped in place immediately, and he had barely enough time to process it before his eyes met yours. He'd never seen you before, but in that moment, it was as if he'd known you for his entire existence.
Your eyes were wide and curious as you looked at him, and he'd frozen. Everything within him had paralysed, and as soon as your scent reached him, he had turned around and stalked in the opposite direction. He'd cursed himself the entire way back to the House of Wind, his mind replaying the scene over and over again, thinking of the what-ifs.
—
He'd been on edge since that encounter in the streets of Velaris, and everything in him was screaming to go back and find you. But he couldn't—he couldn't do that to you, a complete stranger. How could he be sure that you wanted the bond? Had you even felt it that day? Had you experienced that same rush of adrenaline, and that sudden warmth in your chest that was so lovely yet so alarming all at the same time?
One glimpse at you was enough to know that you were nothing like him, and he didn't have the heart to drag you into a life tainted by bloodshed and violence. Even if it killed him inside, perhaps it was the best idea to leave things as they were—as they had been for the past 500 years and more.
Though, just because he'd decided not to see you, that didn't mean he had to forbid himself entirely from the market squares, right?
—
You were closing up shop when he saw you for the second time. The city of Velaris shone brightly, illuminated by countless lights—the moon, the stars, and the shopfronts all played their part in giving Velaris the nickname 'The City of Starlight'.
The nights were particularly colder this time of year, but when he saw you in the distance, that familiar warmth settled in his chest. As if sensing his presence, your eyes snapped to him, and he almost wanted to vanish again.
He'd made a point to avoid the area he saw you last, so how was it that you were before him again? Your eyes held that same curiosity from last time, and when you spoke, he thought he'd come undone.
"Hello."
It was such a simple word. So, so simple, and yet it was enough to make him feel weak in the knees. Azriel's shadows darted toward you, coiling around your wrists and travelling through the strands of your hair. He was horrified with himself, but you were laughing. You were laughing.
It was like a melody sweeter than any honey he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the sound. He cleared his throat, finally finding his tongue. "I'm sorry about them," he said lowly. "They can be... spontaneous at times."
"That's alright," you replied. "I think they're sweet."
Sweet. He'd been described as many words before, but sweet had never been one of them. He observed his shadows as they navigated your figure, as if mapping out every detail they could find. Your skin was near flawless—nothing like his, littered with scars he wished he could let go of.
"They seem rather eager to meet me, unlike a certain somebody who disappeared as soon as he saw me," you said teasingly.
He winced. "I wanted to apologise for that—"
"You don't have to." You waved your hand, the shadows moving away at the motion, but immediately returning to caress your skin. "It's daunting, having something so sacred and special snap between you and a total stranger."
"Well, we don't have to be total strangers, if you'd like," Azriel said, and he felt his palms go sweaty at the way your eyes seemed to shine at his offer.
"Yes, I'd like that." You smiled. "I'd like that a lot."
—
Azriel had never thought that he could be so entranced by a singular faerie. One smile, one glance, one touch, and he was no longer the powerful Illyrian warrior he believed himself to be.
Seeing you was the highlight of his week—of his life—and he couldn't believe that he had seriously thought of depriving himself of your presence.
Yet, as he looked down at you walking along the Sidra beside him, a part of him still didn't wholeheartedly believe he deserved this. You were a direct comparison of everything he was, and still you'd chosen to accept the bond. It had been in that moment, when you'd placed a meal cooked just for him on his table, that he knew he loved you.
"Azriel?"
Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realised he'd been staring at you for a little longer than he'd planned. Your head was tilted to the side, and your lips were curved into the smile he'd committed to memory.
"You seem out of it," you said. "We can stop to take a break if you need."
He was quick to reassure you, "No, no, that's not necessary."
"What's on your mind, then?"
"Nothing of importance, my love. Just thinking about how lucky I am."
He placed his hands on your hips and kissed you then—a gentle kiss that he hoped was enough to convey the love and adoration he harboured for you.
You beamed at him, and he wondered to himself, how had he ever been afraid?
summary: azriel never believed he was worthy enough for a mating bond. so when it suddenly snaps for him, he doesn't quite know what to do.
word count: 1,076
a/n: another lil oneshot :) a bit of angst if you squint, but overall fluff
Azriel had felt fear before. He'd felt it while living his father's keep. He'd felt it when his hands were set ablaze—when the pain of the embers had twisted and morphed onto his skin, leaving a permanent scar to forever remind him of that day. He'd felt it when his wings were nearly destroyed by one of Hybern's naga-hounds. He'd felt it most of all when Rhys' life had vanished right before his eyes.
Fear. It was a feeling that no one particularly enjoyed, and for Azriel, the sense of uncontrollability was what he hated most about it. He'd felt it in a number of shapes, sizes, and forms, but this particular sort of fear... it was new and indecipherable.
He didn't know which was most frightening—the fact that you'd come into his life so quickly, like a fierce gust of wind; or that dreaded feeling of hopelessness that would wash over him whenever he thought of you.
The mating bond had snapped in place immediately, and he had barely enough time to process it before his eyes met yours. He'd never seen you before, but in that moment, it was as if he'd known you for his entire existence.
Your eyes were wide and curious as you looked at him, and he'd frozen. Everything within him had paralysed, and as soon as your scent reached him, he had turned around and stalked in the opposite direction. He'd cursed himself the entire way back to the House of Wind, his mind replaying the scene over and over again, thinking of the what-ifs.
—
He'd been on edge since that encounter in the streets of Velaris, and everything in him was screaming to go back and find you. But he couldn't—he couldn't do that to you, a complete stranger. How could he be sure that you wanted the bond? Had you even felt it that day? Had you experienced that same rush of adrenaline, and that sudden warmth in your chest that was so lovely yet so alarming all at the same time?
One glimpse at you was enough to know that you were nothing like him, and he didn't have the heart to drag you into a life tainted by bloodshed and violence. Even if it killed him inside, perhaps it was the best idea to leave things as they were—as they had been for the past 500 years and more.
Though, just because he'd decided not to see you, that didn't mean he had to forbid himself entirely from the market squares, right?
—
You were closing up shop when he saw you for the second time. The city of Velaris shone brightly, illuminated by countless lights—the moon, the stars, and the shopfronts all played their part in giving Velaris the nickname 'The City of Starlight'.
The nights were particularly colder this time of year, but when he saw you in the distance, that familiar warmth settled in his chest. As if sensing his presence, your eyes snapped to him, and he almost wanted to vanish again.
He'd made a point to avoid the area he saw you last, so how was it that you were before him again? Your eyes held that same curiosity from last time, and when you spoke, he thought he'd come undone.
"Hello."
It was such a simple word. So, so simple, and yet it was enough to make him feel weak in the knees. Azriel's shadows darted toward you, coiling around your wrists and travelling through the strands of your hair. He was horrified with himself, but you were laughing. You were laughing.
It was like a melody sweeter than any honey he'd ever had the pleasure of tasting, and he couldn't stop himself from smiling at the sound. He cleared his throat, finally finding his tongue. "I'm sorry about them," he said lowly. "They can be... spontaneous at times."
"That's alright," you replied. "I think they're sweet."
Sweet. He'd been described as many words before, but sweet had never been one of them. He observed his shadows as they navigated your figure, as if mapping out every detail they could find. Your skin was near flawless—nothing like his, littered with scars he wished he could let go of.
"They seem rather eager to meet me, unlike a certain somebody who disappeared as soon as he saw me," you said teasingly.
He winced. "I wanted to apologise for that—"
"You don't have to." You waved your hand, the shadows moving away at the motion, but immediately returning to caress your skin. "It's daunting, having something so sacred and special snap between you and a total stranger."
"Well, we don't have to be total strangers, if you'd like," Azriel said, and he felt his palms go sweaty at the way your eyes seemed to shine at his offer.
"Yes, I'd like that." You smiled. "I'd like that a lot."
—
Azriel had never thought that he could be so entranced by a singular faerie. One smile, one glance, one touch, and he was no longer the powerful Illyrian warrior he believed himself to be.
Seeing you was the highlight of his week—of his life—and he couldn't believe that he had seriously thought of depriving himself of your presence.
Yet, as he looked down at you walking along the Sidra beside him, a part of him still didn't wholeheartedly believe he deserved this. You were a direct comparison of everything he was, and still you'd chosen to accept the bond. It had been in that moment, when you'd placed a meal cooked just for him on his table, that he knew he loved you.
"Azriel?"
Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he realised he'd been staring at you for a little longer than he'd planned. Your head was tilted to the side, and your lips were curved into the smile he'd committed to memory.
"You seem out of it," you said. "We can stop to take a break if you need."
He was quick to reassure you, "No, no, that's not necessary."
"What's on your mind, then?"
"Nothing of importance, my love. Just thinking about how lucky I am."
He placed his hands on your hips and kissed you then—a gentle kiss that he hoped was enough to convey the love and adoration he harboured for you.
You beamed at him, and he wondered to himself, how had he ever been afraid?
summary: your feelings for azriel have been eating at you for the longest time, and on the most beautiful night of the year, you simply can't hold them back any longer.
word count: 1.6k
a/n: yippieee !! first time writing an acotar fic 🤭 it's a bit cliché but who doesn't love a lil bit of cheesy romance ?? :)
You paced around your room, rubbing your arms in a poor attempt to calm yourself. Starfall was supposed to be one of the rare nights where you allowed yourself to relax; however, your mind was running rampant.
Last year, you'd made the promise to confess your feelings to the Spymaster of the Night Court during the next Starfall, and now that the day had finally approached, you were beginning to think that perhaps that hadn't been the wisest idea. The prospect of confessing had been so much simpler a year ago—Starfall had seemed so far away back then.
It would be so easy to back out, to treat tonight as any other night, yet at the same time, you wanted—needed—to get it over with. To get the closure you'd been craving for the last ten years. It was now or never, even if you wanted to throw yourself off one of the many balconies of the House of Wind.
Your pacing stopped, your body stilling and your blood running cold as you heard a knock on your front door. A familiar voice called your name, the sound of it sending warmth throughout your entire body, coursing through your veins and rattling your bones.
A week ago, Azriel had offered to escort you to the House of Wind, and in your state of shock, you'd agreed.
The night had barely begun, and you were already having deep regrets.
You wriggled your arms to try and ease the nervousness that was building up inside of you, and with a heavy exhale, you glanced at yourself in the mirror before opening the door. You were immediately greeted with the sight of Azriel, his wings tucked behind his back and his face carrying a thoughtful expression.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
All words had escaped you the moment you laid eyes on him, so the most you could offer was a nod and a smile. You tried to create even the smallest semblance of normality as you stepped out of the house to lock the door, though it was futile as the Shadowsinger tucked one arm under your knees, the other wrapping around your shoulders.
Within moments, he shot up into the air, and your arms instinctively coiled around his neck. You didn't know if the rapid beating of your heart was from Azriel's close proximity, or the height of which you were in the air. No doubt it was a combination of the two, but you didn't want to admit that it was mostly the former.
You sought to distract yourself by looking out at Velaris, the usually brightly lit city now completely pitch black so the only luminescence would be that of the migrating spirits. You would have wondered how Azriel was able to navigate his way to the House of Wind with barely enough light to guide him, but being a shadowsinger, he was no stranger to sneaking through the dark.
He landed on the balcony where the other members of the Inner Circle were gathered, and you released a breath as your feet glided onto the sweet, sweet floor. Mor was quick to engulf you into one of her infamous crushing embraces, which you accepted gratefully before you endeavoured to greet everyone else.
Rhys took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, Cassian ruffled your hair (much to your dismay, as you'd spent quite some time trying to perfect it), Feyre beamed and encircled her arms around you in a warm hug, Elain smiled sweetly, Nesta placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently, and Amren offered a polite nod.
From the corner of the balcony, Azriel couldn't help but watch and be bewitched at the way you so effortlessly laughed and smiled with his family. It was a simple pleasure for him—watching the people he loved interact with the other people he loved. And as silence fell across Velaris in response to the sky illuminating, the spirits beginning to fall like a thousand shooting stars, he found that his attention was captured by the one thing that was truly radiant.
You.
Your eyes lit up at the view of the spirits, and for a moment you forgot about your earlier anxieties. Streaks of colour rained down from the heavens, and your mouth formed a gentle smile. It was so easy to get lost in your own thoughts, and forget that all you had to do was stop for mere second to see just how beautiful life could be.
Your gaze drifted over to Azriel, and your breath hitched when his eyes met yours. His eyes widened slightly—so slight that it was almost unnoticeable. Almost.
He put his fist to his mouth to clear his throat, and he gestured his head upwards. "The view's better from the roof, if you'd like to join me," he said.
Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you managed to dip your head in affirmation, and you followed him up to the roof. You settled down beside him, curling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes fixed on the horizon. You feared that one look at him would be enough for you to pour out all the feelings you'd kept bottled up for so long.
Even so, you snuck a glance at him from the corner of your eye. The spirits' light bounced off his features, highlighting his beauty, reminding you of every little thing about him that you so deeply adored.
You wanted to disappear when Azriel turned his head to look at you, but time seemed to slow down as soon as he smiled. The atmosphere was so perfect in this moment, and you couldn't help but wonder how easy it would be to tell him everything.
It's now or never.
The thought did laps around your mind, and you were sure you were beginning to sweat the longer you stared at him. Azriel broke eye contact first, a pit in your stomach forming as he looked back out at the night that blanketed Velaris.
It's now or never.
"Azriel," you began, and you had to clear your throat as the sound of your voice came out strangled.
"Hm?" he hummed.
He turned his head to look at you again, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. In fact, you couldn't even bring yourself to finish your sentence, and that urge to disappear came back tenfold.
"What are you thinking?" He encouraged you to continue, and you gulped.
"I'm thinking..." you said, your voice dropping to a register barely above a whisper, and you inhaled. "I'm thinking I'm in love with you."
Your body stiffened as the words escaped your lips, and you braced yourself—braced yourself for his rejection, for the words that you dreaded, but knew were inevitable.
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Your palms were sweaty, and you didn't quite know what to do with yourself. You fiddled with the fabric of your outfit, played with a strand of hair that had strayed from the rest—did anything to convince yourself that you hadn't just sabotaged a life-long friendship.
"Starfall is arguably the most beautiful thing this world has to offer," Azriel murmured, and the words caught you so off guard that you forgot yourself, and looked up at him. He kept his eyes on the horizon as he continued. "However, when I saw you tonight, I couldn't help but wonder that perhaps that wasn't true. Perhaps there were other things more beautiful."
He looked at you then, a gentle smile across his lips. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is... I think I'm in love with you too." He shook his head. "No, not even that. I know I am."
In that moment, you thought you were dreaming. That had to be the only explanation. But the longer you looked at the way the corners of his lips curled into a smile, and the way his hazel eyes reflected the brilliance of the stars, the more you began to realise that this was, in fact, reality.
"Really?" you breathed out.
"You really think I'd lie to you?" he asked.
He brought his hand to cup your face, and you intuitively shuffled closer to him. His thumb brushed along your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine, and a part of you still couldn't believe what was happening.
As if sensing your doubt, Azriel whispered, "Let me prove it to you," and then he dipped his head to capture your lips in a kiss.
His lips were gentle against yours, and you could feel his shadows reaching out to caress your skin. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled him closer to your body, his warmth enveloping you. His mouth moved in perfect time with yours, filled with a yearning and tenderness you hadn't known existed.
You both of you pulled away with a sigh to catch your breaths, and Azriel looked into your eyes as if he was searching them. His shadows continued their exploration of your skin, brushing along your face, your neck, your hands, and any other part of you they could reach.
You laughed softly at the feeling, and upon hearing the sound, Azriel believed he was the luckiest male in Prythian—hell, in all of the Faerie realms. You were the embodiment of perfection; a piece of art crafted so meticulously by the Mother herself—a stark contrast to his rough and calloused nature.
But when you looked at him like that, with your pupils wide and your smile incandescent, all of his worries paled in comparison.
There were many things in his life he was unsure of, but there was one thing of which he was certain. Now that he had you, he was never letting you go.
summary: your feelings for azriel have been eating at you for the longest time, and on the most beautiful night of the year, you simply can't hold them back any longer.
word count: 1.6k
a/n: yippieee !! first time writing an acotar fic 🤭 it's a bit cliché but who doesn't love a lil bit of cheesy romance ?? :)
You paced around your room, rubbing your arms in a poor attempt to calm yourself. Starfall was supposed to be one of the rare nights where you allowed yourself to relax; however, your mind was running rampant.
Last year, you'd made the promise to confess your feelings to the Spymaster of the Night Court during the next Starfall, and now that the day had finally approached, you were beginning to think that perhaps that hadn't been the wisest idea. The prospect of confessing had been so much simpler a year ago—Starfall had seemed so far away back then.
It would be so easy to back out, to treat tonight as any other night, yet at the same time, you wanted—needed—to get it over with. To get the closure you'd been craving for the last ten years. It was now or never, even if you wanted to throw yourself off one of the many balconies of the House of Wind.
Your pacing stopped, your body stilling and your blood running cold as you heard a knock on your front door. A familiar voice called your name, the sound of it sending warmth throughout your entire body, coursing through your veins and rattling your bones.
A week ago, Azriel had offered to escort you to the House of Wind, and in your state of shock, you'd agreed.
The night had barely begun, and you were already having deep regrets.
You wriggled your arms to try and ease the nervousness that was building up inside of you, and with a heavy exhale, you glanced at yourself in the mirror before opening the door. You were immediately greeted with the sight of Azriel, his wings tucked behind his back and his face carrying a thoughtful expression.
"Ready to go?" he asked.
All words had escaped you the moment you laid eyes on him, so the most you could offer was a nod and a smile. You tried to create even the smallest semblance of normality as you stepped out of the house to lock the door, though it was futile as the Shadowsinger tucked one arm under your knees, the other wrapping around your shoulders.
Within moments, he shot up into the air, and your arms instinctively coiled around his neck. You didn't know if the rapid beating of your heart was from Azriel's close proximity, or the height of which you were in the air. No doubt it was a combination of the two, but you didn't want to admit that it was mostly the former.
You sought to distract yourself by looking out at Velaris, the usually brightly lit city now completely pitch black so the only luminescence would be that of the migrating spirits. You would have wondered how Azriel was able to navigate his way to the House of Wind with barely enough light to guide him, but being a shadowsinger, he was no stranger to sneaking through the dark.
He landed on the balcony where the other members of the Inner Circle were gathered, and you released a breath as your feet glided onto the sweet, sweet floor. Mor was quick to engulf you into one of her infamous crushing embraces, which you accepted gratefully before you endeavoured to greet everyone else.
Rhys took your hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it, Cassian ruffled your hair (much to your dismay, as you'd spent quite some time trying to perfect it), Feyre beamed and encircled her arms around you in a warm hug, Elain smiled sweetly, Nesta placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently, and Amren offered a polite nod.
From the corner of the balcony, Azriel couldn't help but watch and be bewitched at the way you so effortlessly laughed and smiled with his family. It was a simple pleasure for him—watching the people he loved interact with the other people he loved. And as silence fell across Velaris in response to the sky illuminating, the spirits beginning to fall like a thousand shooting stars, he found that his attention was captured by the one thing that was truly radiant.
You.
Your eyes lit up at the view of the spirits, and for a moment you forgot about your earlier anxieties. Streaks of colour rained down from the heavens, and your mouth formed a gentle smile. It was so easy to get lost in your own thoughts, and forget that all you had to do was stop for mere second to see just how beautiful life could be.
Your gaze drifted over to Azriel, and your breath hitched when his eyes met yours. His eyes widened slightly—so slight that it was almost unnoticeable. Almost.
He put his fist to his mouth to clear his throat, and he gestured his head upwards. "The view's better from the roof, if you'd like to join me," he said.
Your heart stuttered in your chest, but you managed to dip your head in affirmation, and you followed him up to the roof. You settled down beside him, curling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes fixed on the horizon. You feared that one look at him would be enough for you to pour out all the feelings you'd kept bottled up for so long.
Even so, you snuck a glance at him from the corner of your eye. The spirits' light bounced off his features, highlighting his beauty, reminding you of every little thing about him that you so deeply adored.
You wanted to disappear when Azriel turned his head to look at you, but time seemed to slow down as soon as he smiled. The atmosphere was so perfect in this moment, and you couldn't help but wonder how easy it would be to tell him everything.
It's now or never.
The thought did laps around your mind, and you were sure you were beginning to sweat the longer you stared at him. Azriel broke eye contact first, a pit in your stomach forming as he looked back out at the night that blanketed Velaris.
It's now or never.
"Azriel," you began, and you had to clear your throat as the sound of your voice came out strangled.
"Hm?" he hummed.
He turned his head to look at you again, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. In fact, you couldn't even bring yourself to finish your sentence, and that urge to disappear came back tenfold.
"What are you thinking?" He encouraged you to continue, and you gulped.
"I'm thinking..." you said, your voice dropping to a register barely above a whisper, and you inhaled. "I'm thinking I'm in love with you."
Your body stiffened as the words escaped your lips, and you braced yourself—braced yourself for his rejection, for the words that you dreaded, but knew were inevitable.
The silence that followed was almost deafening. Your palms were sweaty, and you didn't quite know what to do with yourself. You fiddled with the fabric of your outfit, played with a strand of hair that had strayed from the rest—did anything to convince yourself that you hadn't just sabotaged a life-long friendship.
"Starfall is arguably the most beautiful thing this world has to offer," Azriel murmured, and the words caught you so off guard that you forgot yourself, and looked up at him. He kept his eyes on the horizon as he continued. "However, when I saw you tonight, I couldn't help but wonder that perhaps that wasn't true. Perhaps there were other things more beautiful."
He looked at you then, a gentle smile across his lips. "I suppose what I'm trying to say is... I think I'm in love with you too." He shook his head. "No, not even that. I know I am."
In that moment, you thought you were dreaming. That had to be the only explanation. But the longer you looked at the way the corners of his lips curled into a smile, and the way his hazel eyes reflected the brilliance of the stars, the more you began to realise that this was, in fact, reality.
"Really?" you breathed out.
"You really think I'd lie to you?" he asked.
He brought his hand to cup your face, and you intuitively shuffled closer to him. His thumb brushed along your skin, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine, and a part of you still couldn't believe what was happening.
As if sensing your doubt, Azriel whispered, "Let me prove it to you," and then he dipped his head to capture your lips in a kiss.
His lips were gentle against yours, and you could feel his shadows reaching out to caress your skin. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you pulled him closer to your body, his warmth enveloping you. His mouth moved in perfect time with yours, filled with a yearning and tenderness you hadn't known existed.
You both of you pulled away with a sigh to catch your breaths, and Azriel looked into your eyes as if he was searching them. His shadows continued their exploration of your skin, brushing along your face, your neck, your hands, and any other part of you they could reach.
You laughed softly at the feeling, and upon hearing the sound, Azriel believed he was the luckiest male in Prythian—hell, in all of the Faerie realms. You were the embodiment of perfection; a piece of art crafted so meticulously by the Mother herself—a stark contrast to his rough and calloused nature.
But when you looked at him like that, with your pupils wide and your smile incandescent, all of his worries paled in comparison.
There were many things in his life he was unsure of, but there was one thing of which he was certain. Now that he had you, he was never letting you go.
