Azriel Shadowsinger: Nervous
Pairing: Azriel x female!reader (she/her)
Summary: “‘Look my love,’ he whispered into your ear, and placed his hands on top of your own, squeezing atop them lovingly.
‘We’re the same.’”
Warnings: intense descriptions of burns and scarring, trauma, swearing, slightly bitter, depressed, and angry Azriel, Cassian is here, intense insecurities, kissing, dancing, shy!azriel, shy!reader, probably cringey dialogue, please please beware of the scarring descriptions.
A/N: I have no experience with burn scars, therefore I will never understand the pain of having them both physically and mentally, so I in no way am attempting to romanticize them. My intentions are purely to show that having scarring in any way shape or form is beautiful, and nobody is worth any less because of it. Constructive (and kind) criticism of my descriptions is appreciated.
A/N 2: thank you @cityofidek for the push to write an idea I’ve had forever. Thank you! This is also partially inspired by hoax by Taylor Swift :) (I apologize in advance @leahkenobi)
SJM Masterlist
If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3
(pic gotten from Pinterest)
“Look a bit more tense, brother.”
His puffed chest recoiled slightly, and his eyes darted behind him.
Cassian smiled. “Catching the Spymaster of the Night Court off guard. I never thought I’d see the day.”
Azriel released a breath of annoyance through his mouth and turned back around, facing the Mahogany staircase. His jaw ached from how tightly he had been flexing it, and how long he had been in his own head.
“Are we waiting for someone?”
We. As if Cassian understood what the Hel he was going through. As if either of his brothers understood.
Cassian stood next to him and exhaled dramatically.
Azriel turned his head to scan his brother up and down. He was dressed similarly to him—a well-fit, dark-black suit, dark enough to brighten his ruby-toned siphons. His hair was clean, his musk was prevalent, his face was shaved, and his eyebrows seemed to look…sharpened?
“Nesta’s idea,” he said, noticing the shift in Azriel’s eyes. “Thought it wouldn’t hurt. I was wrong.”
Azriel hummed in response, noting how Cassian was trying to calm his nerves with humor, but it wasn’t working. Nothing was fucking working.
“You nervous?” Cassian said, patting him on the back.
He knew the answer to that. Azriel’s fidgeting, bare hands behind his back proved it enough. He felt the familiar scar tissue along his fingertips, cringing at the thought of your face when you saw them.
Why did he wait until now to show you them?
He was a fucking idiot. An asshole. A coward.
He had trusted you with everything, everything, except for this. The part of him he loathed above all else. The piece of himself he wanted to bury.
“Hey,” Cassian said, snapping him out of his own daze once again. “You can do this. She loves you. We can see it.”
Could she love a liar?
“Y/N is kind. One of the kindest females I’ve ever met,” Cassian continued. “It’s going to work out.”
How fucking easy that would be for Azriel to say, if he wasn’t the one who was left behind.
He had watched Rhysand crumble for Feyre. He thought it would kill him, but he saved her. It worked out.
He had watched Cassian tip-toe around Nesta, accepting any scrap of herself she fed to him, and then it all went up in flames. But it worked out.
All of it worked out.
For them.
Azriel loved his brothers more than anything. He was elated for them, but the facts still remained: their beds, their hearts, and their bonds were full.
But what about his? What about him? The last one. The straggler. The one who had picked his brothers up, relating to the missing pieces inside of them, and finding comfort in their mutual sadness.
He never thought about what would happen when they didn’t need him anymore.
Until, he found you.
An ember of light in his never-ending darkness. The shade of blue that complimented his own, the only being in the world that made the chorus inside his soul begin to sing.
His unwanted jealousy and resentment for his brothers began to disappear, and his energy went only to you.
Fuck yeah Azriel was nervous. You were all he had ever longed for, everything he would never deserve, and the only person he would dance with on Starfall.
He groomed himself as best he could, making sure to add a touch of the cologne you had complimented him on.
You smell…woodsy. Like a forest, you had said late one night. I like it.
It was safe to say his heart just about dropped out of his ass when you said that, and he had worn it every day since.
He inhaled, letting the crisp night air coming through the House of Wind windows fill up his lungs, and he exhaled.
Cassian was right. You were kind. Wonderful. Beautiful. His scars were one of the many pieces of him that you would accept…hopefully.
Until then, he would stand there and wait, all night if he had to, even if it was just to catch a glimpse of you.
Your eyes alone would put every star to shame.
~*~
“Shake out those shoulders,” Mor said behind you. “You’re too tense.”
You exhaled through your nose and did as she asked, waving your arms side to side. You rolled your shoulders as well, feeling them begin to ache from how hard you were clenching them.
“Come on Y/N,” she said. “Look at you!”
You were. That was the problem.
You had never felt more beautiful in your life.
From the tips of your feet to the flyaways of your hair, you were coated in a thin layer of glitter. It was so faint that it only showed in certain lighting, and Mor applied just enough on you to make it look natural. You skin looked angelic, while your dress…
It was anything but holy.
The midnight blue complimented your skin tone beautifully, and, as if the glitter lining your skin wasn’t enough, every fold and crease in your dress was encapsulated with diamonds. Real diamonds.
You didn’t want to ask how much this cost. You really didn’t.
The fabric was perfectly comfortable, hugging your body exactly the way you wanted it to. Your makeup matched the colors cascading over your body, and your hair was done just enough to still look like you.
“If Az isn’t on his knees by the end of the night,” she said admiring you. “I sure as Hel will be.”
You rolled your eyes at her, knowing she was poking at you to get you out of your head, but it wasn’t working.
“Y/N,” she said, “he will love every inch of you. He already does.”
You swallowed grimly, still staring at yourself in the mirror.
You didn’t know the dress would be backless. You didn’t know how much of you it would show.
And you hadn’t told Azriel yet.
You closed your eyes, unable to get the picture and feeling of it out of your mind. The burning agony that stretched up the length of your back when it happened, and the painful bliss of the aftermath. You did it for the Night Court. You did it for the High Lord.
You did it for your family.
But that didn’t make the scar stretching from the bottom of your spine to the middle of your shoulder blades any smaller, and that didn’t make the memories of it any smaller either.
Why did you wait until now to show him?
Mor knew, Feyre knew, and Nesta knew. That was it. Besides that, you kept it to yourself. You had accepted it as a part of you, but you still wanted only those closest to you knowing about it.
Yet Azriel was the closest, and he still didn’t know.
You had never met another male—or person—that you weren’t afraid of in one way or another. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, you knew he wouldn’t leave you, and you knew his soul better than your own.
He had never seen you naked, but that felt fleeting. Unimportant. He had seen enough of you to know you.
This was the last piece. The final step.
“Y/N?” Mor asked, and your head cleared. “Please try and stay in the moment as best as you can. I promise tonight will be perfect.”
She looked equally as stunning—an emerald dress highlighting her golden locks, as well as diamond earrings that shimmered in the moonlight. You smiled at her, feeling lucky to call her your friend. A true friend.
“Thank you Mor,” you replied. “It’ll be perfect for you too. You deserve it.”
She smiled, surely imagining the dance she saved for tonight, and she nodded her head.
“Now let’s go,” she said, ushering you out of the room. You laughed as she did this, and a sprout of hope began to bloom in your chest, covering your lakes of doubt with its shade.
I’m excited, you told yourself. So fucking excited.
~*~
“You should try it Az, really,” Cassian continued. “You’d think it wouldn’t hurt, but my eyes watered like a babe.”
Azriel scoffed a laugh, feeling a small smile come onto his face.
Cassian took this as his in, his deep chuckle echoing up the stairs. “I’m serious! You’re laughing now, but I guarantee—”
It was then that a different noise began to echo, sprinkling down the stairs like snow. It was more rare and priceless to him than a jewel.
Your real, genuine, laughter.
He pictured how your head would be thrown back slightly, a maneuver he had only gotten out of you a few times, and how bright your eyes would turn.
He wasn’t ready. Not at all.
“Here they come,” Cassian said, straightening his shoulders. Azriel did the same, feeling a bead of sweat drip down his back. His brain went faster than he could keep up, causing his throat to close. He pictured every little detail on his body, hoping and praying he looked good enough for you.
It was when he brought his hand up to his mouth, checking the smell of his breath quickly at the risk of you seeing his hand, that Cassian broke out into a smile.
And there you were.
He knew, in that moment, that the Mother hadn’t cursed him. The Cauldron wasn’t wrong. They just needed time to craft you, making you into the closest thing that there was to them as they could. He needed to experience his grief, his regrets, his pain, to make you that much more of a gift.
You had to be a goddess. You had to be.
And he was one lucky bastard, because you couldn’t take your eyes off him.
~*~
Your second thought as you walked down the stairs, taking note of the way your heels hit the wood to avoid smashing your face in, was how lucky you were for the angle. There was no way anyone on the floor would see your back.
Your first thought, however, was how waterproof the eye-makeup Mor gave you was.
The most beautiful male you had ever seen in your life was staring at you—staring at you—with lips opened wide enough to see the tips of his teeth. You knew him well enough to know that that was the equivalent of his jaw hitting the floor.
Tears misted your eyes, dribbling onto your lower lashes, at the sight of how hard he tried. His hair was tidy, his skin was clean, and his hair was fluffed just how you liked it to be. He wore a shade of black so dark it mixed in with his shadows, bringing out the golden-tones of his eyes. The material hugged his body perfectly, so perfectly that he definitely got it fitted.
You assumed he got his midnight blue pocket square as well, the exact color of your dress.
You almost froze on the steps, but some force inside of you was pulling you to him, so you kept walking.
You made it to the bottom of the staircase, and he was still standing there for you. As stiff as a board, his wings tucked in respectfully, like a king waiting for his queen.
Was that how he saw you?
“You look gorgeous Y/N,” Cassian said, but you could barely snap away from Azriel’s eye-contact.
Your eyes darted to his. “Thank you. You look very handsome.”
He stepped up to you and brought your hand to his mouth, pecking it gently. “Thank you.”
He stepped to the side, giving a similar comment to Mor, so you got a full view of Azriel again, who was shooting darts with his gaze into the back of Cassian’s head.
You smiled, your heart beating rapidly in your chest.
If looks could kill.
Azriel quickly looked back to you and scanned you from head to toe, still keeping his hands behind his back. The anger in his body relaxed, and he released a breath from his mouth.
“You are—” he started, unable to finish. Beautiful wasn’t even close to enough. “You are…stunning Y/N.”
You smiled, feeling heat crawl up your neck.
“Thank you, Azriel” you responded. You never called him Az. Not once. You liked the feeling of his full name on your tongue. “You are as beautiful as ever.”
He swallowed, looking down at his feet. That word always made him turn shy on you, and you reveled in it. He cleared his throat. “Thank you.”
You smiled, seeing the blush on his tan skin. The awkwardness felt juvenile, but it was the most alive you felt in days. It almost made you forget about your throbbing scar.
Almost.
“Shall we?” Azriel asked, holding out his elbow. His hands rested awkwardly against his lower back, but you didn’t mind. You smiled even wider and looped your hand through it, allowing him to escort you to the rest of the Inner Circle. You stood close enough to him so that your back was impossible for him to see without straining his neck, and you got a whiff of your favorite smell in the world.
You repeated Mor’s words like a mantra. Stay in the moment. Tonight will be perfect.
It would surely be interesting.
~*~
Azriel had never been filled with so much awe and dread at the same time.
He couldn’t even fucking glance at you without his knees threatening to crumble him to the floor, but at the same time, he had never been more on edge. His hands danced from his back to his pockets to your waist. They never moved even remotely close to your eyesight, which was a feat in itself.
He knew this was your first Starfall. He knew how excited you were for this moment, and he really fucking hoped his behavior wasn’t the reason you were acting so stiff and…touchy. It was like you were keeping him attached to your side by his shoulder, refusing to let him get a glance at any more than just your front. Even when you slow-danced to the music, you didn’t seem comfortable with tucking your head underneath his chin or leaning on his shoulder. The two of you had slow-danced before, leaning into each other much more intimately, but your body language told him otherwise.
He wondered if you didn’t like the way the dress hugged your figure, or that you were so anxious to see the stars you didn’t know what to do with your body. Either way, all he wanted to do was see all of you. Feel all of you, and tell you how beautiful every inch of you looked under the moonlight.
He could call you much more poetic things than “stunning.” He could already feel Cass never letting that one go.
Nevertheless, after your dance, you slowly backed away from him, giving him a sinful view of your perfect bust.
“I’m going to grab a drink. Would you like one?”
He shook his head. “No thank you. I’d like to dance with you again, if you’d like.”
“Yes,” you said breathlessly. “Yes I would. I will meet you after this song.”
“Great,” he said, and your eyes darted behind him for barely a second before Mor was calling his name.
“Azriel, you’ve got to have a drink on Starfall. It’s tradition!”
He nodded to her, politely, and when he turned around you were nowhere to be found.
He exhaled, frustrated, and closed his eyes.
He should’ve known he’d fuck this up too.
~*~
The fresh night air cooled your dewy skin brilliantly, allowing you to get some much needed oxygen into your lungs.
What the Hel were you thinking?
He was so close, so fucking close to seeing it, and you knew he could read your behavior like a book. He was the Spymaster for Cauldron’s sake, how couldn’t he have noticed?
You leaned on the railing of the balcony, trying to listen to Mor, trying to be in the moment, but it wasn’t working.
Why couldn’t you just love that part of you? Why did you feel the need to hide it, from him of all people? Why couldn’t you just enjoy Starfall like everyone else?
You couldn’t even dance with the male you loved without ruining it. Ruining everything.
You should have known you’d fuck it up.
Your dress felt too tight, your head was pounding too loud, and you tried desperately to stop the tears, but they always came. You felt the familiar ache in your throat from holding back your cries, and the wind from the brisk night sent chills down your spine.
You heard music, singing, and laughter down the street. You really wish you didn’t. You wished you could just join in. Be normal. Be understood.
Nothing felt more impossible.
You rubbed your fingers on your temples, applying pressure to relieve your growing migraine. You thought about how cliché this all was—you got your perfect dress, your perfect dance, and now you were crying on a balcony in the middle of the night. The last thing you needed was your—
“Y/N?”
…knight in shining armor.
You were so in your head you didn’t feel him coming—a weird sixth-sense you always seemed to have with him—and you didn’t feel him watching you. Watching your panicked breaths, still in awe of how beautiful you looked completely raw.
You didn’t feel him move closer to the glass-door, getting a closer and closer view of how your skin reflected in the moonlight until finally—finally—he saw it. The piece of you you loved more than anything and yet hated. The piece of you that proved your love and courage, yet the scar on your skin that branded you for life.
He had to remind himself to breathe.
You knew he saw it, and your stomach turned inside out. The contents of your dinner threatened to spill over.
You didn’t respond to his call; instead, you continued to face away from him, eyes locked on the buildings scattered across Velaris. The commotion inside and down the street still continued, but your senses felt dialed to zero. Your brain began to muddle, silencing everything but his movements and breaths.
The panic began to creep up your throat, paralyzing you, and more tears escaped you as he stepped closer and closer. His shoes scuffed along the hard floor, causing your knuckles to tighten around the railings.
“I—” you began, wanting to explain everything, but you felt the heat of his body suddenly hit the back of your own. That fucking cologne reached your nose yet again, and the feeling unique to Azriel’s presence wormed its way up your body.
“Y/N,” he whispered. “Can I touch you?”
Your eyes widened, causing your sticky tears to stretch across your face, and a drop of heat rippled waves over your core.
How many times had you dreamed of those words in his voice?
“Yes,” you responded. Breathless.
A hand wrapped around your waist, pressing your back against his taut torso. You looked down, seeing how pretty his hand looked against you, and you swore to the gods your heart stopped.
Was that—
“Look my love,” he whispered into your ear, and placed his hands on top of your own, squeezing atop them lovingly.
“We’re the same.”
His hands were…scarred. Badly. It stretched up to his wrists, and your body shuddered at their vision. His squeezed the top of your hands a bit harder, grounding you to the railing.
“What—” you began. “What happened?”
He tucked his nose into your hair, breathing you in.
“My step-brothers,” he whispered. “They used fire. Thought it would be funny.”
You sniffled, licking your lips. More and more tears began to fall. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he mumbled into your neck, and kissed it firmly. His body against your own felt magnetic, and all you wanted to do was melt into it completely. Becoming one.
“What about yours?” he asked. “If you’re comfortable.”
You nodded and licked your lips once more. “It was when Devlon got me.”
You felt him stiffen and his breathing halt. His hands dug slightly into yours, not enough to hurt, but enough to feel his anger rise.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
You squeezed down on the railing. “I didn’t know how.”
He took a deep breath in, looking at his large hands covering yours, and released it. Letting his anger go.
“It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s okay.”
You swallowed. “Was there a reason you didn’t tell me?”
He started rocking you side to side, not responding for some time. You bathed in the feeling of him around you, feeling nothing else.
“I didn’t know how either.”
You smiled grimly, not knowing what to say. “I guess we are the same.”
He kissed your neck again. “In every way.”
And there it was—understanding. The one thing you craved your whole life. You had it.
You didn’t know what else to do but lean further into him and bask in it.
You looked up at the stars and spirits beginning to make their way across the sky, expecting to be blinded by their beauty. You had pictured this day since you were a child—their silver tails, the glittering stars, their never-ending brightness.
But nothing felt better than this embrace. Nothing.
You picked your right hand up from the railing and brought Azriel’s hand to your mouth, kissing down to his wrist. He began breathing huskily in your ear. Only for you.
Chills ran down your spine at the thought of what you were about to admit.
“They’re beautiful Azriel,” you whispered into his hand. “Every part of you is.”
The breath in his throat caught, causing him to choke up, and you felt one of his tears drip down your neck. His pulse was so intense you could hear it.
He was struggling to find words—the right words—and you smiled.
You had caught the Spymaster of the Night Court off guard. You never thought you’d see the day.
Eventually he exhaled and fully hugged you from behind, and you felt his hand squeeze your own three times.
“You are so much more than stunning,” he mumbled. “So much more than beautiful. So much more than the stars in the sky.”
He pulled away, and whispered “stay” in your ear as he did. His hands slid from your own, and you felt suddenly bare. He had a full view of the expanse of your back now, and you didn’t know what he would think being so close to it.
He paused, scanning you, and you felt an urge to turn around and shake him, screaming say something.
He didn’t. Instead, the back of his scarred hand traced down your own scar, and you couldn’t help the almost erotic breath that left you.
The gravity of what he was doing hit you like a wave, and you couldn’t help the small cry released from your mouth.
His scar met your own all the way down to the bottom of your spine before he bent down and traced it with kisses, all the way back up to the middle of your shoulder blades.
“I love you Y/N,” he whispered, and pressed a kiss to the back of your head.
The Starfall in front of you could have been a portal to another dimension for all you cared. Nothing would have stopped you from turning to face him, smiling wider than you had all night.
“I love you Az—” you began, but were interrupted by his hands framing your face and his lips pressed against yours.
You had kissed before, mostly pecks with some longer ones in-between, but this was different. This was acceptance of every inch of each other, down to the most minute detail.
His hair weaved in between your fingers as your lips molded to his. He tasted of cider and lemon—surely from the dessert table—and his hands tilted your head up just so. He mapped your mouth out with his own, and the songs within your souls found their match.
You wished you could bottle this moment in time and show it to your past self.
Look, you would tell her. We made it.
We made it.
You whimpered when he pulled away, already pulling him back in by his suit coat, but he just grinned. He memorized your blown-out eyes and swollen lips, feeling his insides melt at the sight, and you smiled up at him, the stars falling behind you making you ethereal.
Nothing else mattered but the sight of you, and he knew, in that moment, that everything would work out for him.
Everything.
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