crimsonfrostx

[crimsonfrostx]

Azriel drabble request…a drunken night at Rita’s and Azriel gets a confession from y/n that he’d been hoping to hear…a very slurred confession but one non the less

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Word count: 460

Warnings: Drinking

a/n: I always love a drunk character fic lol <3 Thank you for the request :) I'm having a little drabble spree on my blog!!

____________________________________________

"I love you," you grinned, head lolling to the side of the booth, only for Azriel to gently correct it.

He ignored the slight pang in his chest as he processed your words. You said them often. You said them to everyone. He was used to the way they easily rolled off your tongue, and that was especially true when you were drunk.

"I love you, too," he replied anyway. The room was dark and loud and no one could see how sickeningly in love with you he was. How he stared at you, backlit by purple and red strobe lights, and nothing but pure adoration shone. Your hair was a mess and your skin glistened and he wanted you to mean the words, but he would take them, nonetheless.

"Noooo," you sang, giggling and poking a finger against Azriel's cheek. "You don't get it, spymaster."

Your voice took a mockingly serious tone when you spoke his title, brows lowering. Azriel stifled his smile behind an amused look and captured your hand in his, holding it against his chest to keep it occupied.

"What don't I get?" he tried.

You bit into your bottom lip in glee. "That I love you!"

"And I said I love you, y/n."

You tried to roll your eyes, but the action was too disorienting, and you ended up with your head against Azriel's chest. He leaned back in the booth and shifted to accommodate the space, supporting your body as you swayed and stared up at the ceiling.

"You never get what I mean," you almost whined, words slightly blurring together.

Azriel hummed softly, content to have you close. He gently ran his hand along your forehead, sweeping your hair back. "Explain it to me, then."

"Well," you huffed, playing with his fingers that had wrapped around your hip. "I love you, Azriel. Love love you, all the way. Not like everyone else."

Something stalled inside of him, froze. He felt paralyzed by the slurred words echoing in his head, and then he was reminded that they were slurred. This wasn't a confession, not really.

He gave you grace, attempting to relax his body and offer you the small comforts you were used to from him—a hand in your hair, a brush of his fingers, a soft humming if you couldn't sleep.

"You're drunk," Azriel concluded, easing the accusation by fixing your sleeve and brushing the material down.

You only groaned and threw your hands up, letting them fall harshly in your lap. "See! You never listen to me. I'm not even drunk. Ask me tomorrow if you're so insistent."

And Azriel would ask you tomorrow. But for now, he would listen for your breath to even out, and then he would carry you home.

[crimsonfrostx]

every time i start to feel cringe for being too deep in the hyperfixation i remember the intense depression i have waded through and have to remind myself that enjoyment is fleeting (so grab it with both hands), and life is for loving (so hold that love close), and if anyone thinks i’m cringe they must not be having a very good time (and i hope they can find a good time soon).

[crimsonfrostx]

A night out

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You and Azriel have a really dark relationship where the man literally worships you. While you tease him all night at the restaurant you two are at, he reminds you that at home you're still his.

Warning: Mentions of explicit sexual content, dominant/submissive dynamics, suggestive language, mild humour and shadow daddy Azriel obsession.

The restaurant is stunning—of course it is. Velaris never offered anything less. The vaulted ceiling sparkles with starlight enchantments, ambient music drifting from a corner harp. The entire place exudes class and restraint.

Too bad you’ve never been great at either.

You sit across from your mate at a private table tucked into a shadowed alcove. The lighting is low, intimate. Your heel slowly slides up the inside of his leg beneath the table. His jaw ticks.

Azriel hasn’t spoken in over a minute.

You sip from your wine glass, the picture of innocence. “Something wrong, love?”

His eyes flick up from his menu. Glacial. Controlled.

Dangerous.

But you just smile sweetly, sliding your foot higher under the table, grazing his thigh.

Azriel doesn’t move. But his shadows coil tighter around his shoulders like they’re trying to contain him, to warn him. It only makes your smile widen.

“I’m just trying to enjoy my meal,” he says coolly, voice dark and even. “But someone seems determined to make that impossible.”

You lean forward on your elbows, cleavage just barely dipping over the neckline of your dress—that dress, the one he said should be illegal in public. “Maybe I just wanted to see how long you could last.”

His knuckles go white around his wine glass.

You continue, your voice low and silk-sweet. “It’s been such a long week, hasn’t it? Thought you might want something to look forward to.” You trail your fingers around the rim of your own glass, tilting your head. “You like it when I tease you.”

Azriel exhales slowly through his nose. “I like it when you behave.”

You hum. “No you don’t.”

His hand comes down on the table, quiet but final. The silver ring on his finger clinks faintly against the wood. “You’re on very thin ice.”

“You love it,” you whisper. Then, under the table, you press your foot right between his legs—lightly, delicately, but just enough.

Azriel doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t blink.

He just stares at you with that lethal, smouldering calm.

“You know what’s going to happen when we get home,” he murmurs, voice like shadow-wrapped silk. “You know I’ll ruin you for this.”

You grin like it’s a promise and not a threat. “Then why wait?”

That’s when his shadows crawl across the edge of the table. Subtle. Controlled. Sliding up your thigh like cool silk, invisible to anyone outside your little bubble of candlelight.

Your breath hitches. Just once.

Azriel leans forward, resting his chin on his hand, lips quirking in the faintest, smug curl. “Careful, sweetheart,” he purrs. “You’re playing a game I’ve already won.”

The tension between you and Azriel crackles like lightning through the velvet-dark air, barely contained within the soft glow of candlelight.

His shadows have retreated under the table—for now—but his golden eyes stay pinned to yours. Still smouldering. Still dangerous. One wrong move, one more flutter of your lashes, and this dinner will be cut short with you carried out the door.

And then—

“Two house specialties,” the waiter says brightly, appearing beside the table like he’s just stepped into a war zone with absolutely no armour. “One chocolate ganache torte with violet cream, and one lavender honey custard with sugared petals.”

Azriel doesn’t blink.

You flash the waiter a too-sweet smile, voice syrupy with mischief. “Thank you so much. It looks divine.”

The poor male beams, oblivious to the way Azriel’s shadows twitch, like they’d rather be wrapping around your wrists than letting you eat dessert. “Enjoy, both of you. Let me know if you need anything else.”

Azriel doesn’t even look at him.

You do, though—smiling sweetly as the server walks away, giving him a chirpy, “Will do!”

When you turn back, your spoon already halfway to the ganache, Azriel still hasn’t touched his dessert. His jaw is clenched. His fingers trace the edge of the table like he’s picturing your thighs spread over it.

“You’re in trouble,” he murmurs, low and lethal.

You scoop a bite of torte and place it delicately on your tongue, moaning—just a little.

“I know,” you whisper around the spoon, eyes sparkling.

Across the table, Azriel smiles.

But it’s the kind of smile that promises ruin.

Azriel still hasn’t touched his dessert. His honeyed eyes remain locked on you, burning and unblinking, while you slowly, deliberately take another bite of ganache and moan again—just a little too loud. Just enough to make his knuckles twitch against the tablecloth.

But even as the tension hums between you like a taut string, you lean back in your chair with the ease of someone not the least bit sorry. You sigh, satisfied, swirling the remaining wine in your glass.

“So,” you say casually, like you aren’t sliding your foot along the inside of his calf again, “I spent the whole godsdamned day with Nyx and Gearan after work.”

Azriel’s brow arches. “Both of them? I swear they always drop them off now and never ask.”

You nod solemnly. “Five-year-old Nyx, who now believes shadows are for riding and insists on calling me ‘Shadow Queen,’ and three-year-old Gearan, who bit me because I wouldn’t let him eat a handful of moss.”

Azriel huffs a quiet laugh—just a breath through his nose—but you see the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

You hum thoughtfully, licking chocolate from your spoon just to test his restraint. “You know, Cassian swears he’s going to grow out of the biting.”

Azriel leans back in his seat, finally lifting his fork. “Cassian also once told me wine wasn’t an appropriate drink for toddlers. And yet I’m fairly certain Gearan chugged half a cup of Night Court spiced cider before Feyre noticed.”

You snort. “That would explain the sprinting. He scaled the back of the couch like a bat.”

Azriel finally takes a bite of his dessert, gaze still fixed on you over the edge of the fork. “And how did Nyx behave?”

“Oh, he was perfect,” you say sweetly. “He only destroyed three of your reports.”

Azriel’s fork pauses midair. “Which ones?”

“The ones marked ‘Eyes Only: High Lord and Spymaster.’”

His head tips just slightly, and his shadows curl at his ankles.

“I’m kidding,” you grin. “Mostly. One of them is now a spaceship. The other two are... missing.”

He stares at you for a beat. “I should ground you.”

“You should thank me,” you chirp. “Nyx said I’m better than Cassian because I don’t smell like sweat and war. He also said I look like I belong in a painting.”

Azriel’s mouth twitches. “He has taste.”

You raise your glass in a mock toast. “And Gearan gave me a pinecone. So I’m basically everyone’s favourite.”

Azriel’s golden gaze darkens just slightly as he sets down his fork and leans forward over the table. “You’re my favourite,” he murmurs, voice dropping low. “But if you don’t stop teasing me like this in public, I swear to the Mother—”

“What?” you cut in sweetly, tilting your head. “You’ll punish me?”

Azriel’s smile is all sharp, quiet promise. “No. I’ll wait. And then I’ll make you beg for it.”

Your heart skips a beat. But still—still—you reach for another bite of dessert with an infuriating little smirk.

“Good,” you murmur. “I was planning on skipping sleep tonight anyway.”

Azriel’s jaw flexes as he leans back, arms crossing over his broad chest while his shadows flicker around his shoulders—coiled, tense, like they’re ready to drag you out of this candlelit restaurant and into the first dark corner they can find.

But instead of growling or storming from the table the way you almost expect him to, he exhales a long, slow breath… and smiles.

It’s not a kind smile.

It’s not even a patient one.

It’s the calm-before-the-storm sort of smile. The “you’ve made your choice—now you’ll live with it” sort of smile.

Which only makes your grin widen.

Still, conversation between you flows smoothly, so fluid and effortless it would almost fool anyone watching—if they couldn’t feel the tension vibrating like a live wire between you.

“So, when are you going to tell Rhys that Nyx is absolutely planning a prison break with his cousins?” you ask innocently, toying with the last petal on your dessert plate.

Azriel’s brow lifts. “He’s five.”

“He’s persuasive,” you counter. “He told Gearan he could fly a stolen Illyrian ship if he was brave enough. And then asked me if prison cells come with window views.”

Azriel sighs. “He’s been spending too much time around Nesta.”

You raise your wine glass again, wiggling your brows. “I don’t know. I think it’s more of a ‘nature over nurture’ thing. He’s your nephew. He’s got that little danger glint.”

Azriel’s eyes don’t leave yours. “So do you.”

“Must be contagious.”

He chuckles once, low and quiet, his tongue just briefly brushing the inside of his cheek as he studies you.

Then, as if nothing inside him is vibrating with tension, he says, “Cassian wants to do a family dinner soon.”

“With Gearan and his moss snacks?”

“With everyone.”

You pause, lowering your glass. “At the River House?”

“Or Windhaven.”

Your eyes narrow. “You want to take Nyx, Gearan, and me to Windhaven? Where the beds are like rocks and the baths are always cold?”

Azriel’s shadows curl tighter around his ankles. “I want to watch you try to survive it.”

“Oh,” you breathe, “you’re feeling brave tonight.”

Azriel just smirks, that infuriating, devastating smirk, and raises a slow bite of custard to his mouth. “I don’t need to feel brave, love. I just need to make it through dessert.”

“Mm,” you hum, swiping your finger through the last of the cream on your plate and licking it off. “I wouldn’t count on that. I may ask for a third course.”

His fork freezes midair.

Your smile turns lethal.

Azriel leans in slightly, voice a threat wrapped in velvet: “Make your next move wisely, wife.”

But you? You just lean forward too, dragging your spoon between your teeth as you whisper, “I’m already three moves ahead, mate.”

Azriel lifts one hand without taking his burning golden eyes off you, two fingers raised in a silent signal.

The waiter is at your side almost instantly. Whether he was watching from afar or simply sensed the force of Azriel’s authority, he doesn’t hesitate.

“Yes, sir?”

“The bill,” Azriel says smoothly, already pulling a sleek obsidian-black card from the inner pocket of his tailored jacket. The shadows curled around his wrist retract just slightly—coiling back like they too are done playing games.

But you?

Oh, you’re not.

You slide a folded stack of cash across the table with practiced ease. Neat, crisp bills pressed together and slipped low, slow, toward his hand.

Azriel’s fingers don't flinch from the card.

His eyes flick down once, then back to your face.

And then—with the sort of disdain that makes your heart stutter in your chest—he flicks the cash back at you with a single sharp movement of his middle finger. It’s so smooth, so dismissively dominating, it takes a half-second to register that he’s just told you to shove it and flipped you off in one impossibly elegant motion.

The bills flutter back into your lap like falling feathers.

You blink once.

And then—

“Don’t insult me, woman,” Azriel says, his voice low, rough silk dragged across stone. His shadows swirl tight against his legs now, like they’re holding him back from devouring you right then and there.

The waiter awkwardly clears his throat, blinking between the two of you—clearly unaware of the undercurrents, but smart enough to sense that whatever is happening, he doesn’t want to be a part of it.

Azriel hands him the card without breaking eye contact with you.

You pick the money off your lap with slow, deliberate grace and tuck it back into your clutch, head tilting just slightly. A smirk ghosts over your lips.

“Touchy,” you murmur.

Azriel’s smile is small. Dangerous.

“Careful.”

As the waiter retreats with the signed bill, barely masking the tension in his shoulders, the atmosphere between you and Azriel thickens—not with anger, but with something far more potent. That magnetic, suffocating intimacy only the two of you know how to wield. You feel it wrap around your throat like silk and shadow.

Azriel rises slowly, all lethal grace and quiet dominance, the soft creak of his chair the only sound you register as your heartbeat picks up.

Without a word, he steps behind your chair and slides it back with one hand, the scrape of wood on marble muted by the hush of the restaurant. His free hand moves to your shoulder with firm possession, the weight of it grounding you—reminding you exactly who you belong to.

You look up at him with all the sweetness of a trap laid bare. He only lifts a brow. “Up,” he says, low and sharp as tempered steel.

You rise with a coy little smile, expecting him to step aside and let you lead.

But instead, he shifts into place, extending one strong, tattooed arm slightly to the side in an unmistakable cue. A silent demand: wrap your arm around mine.

You blink once—because it’s unnecessary. You’re his mate. You’re leaving a restaurant, not being escorted through a court.

But the look he gives you? You obey before you even realize you’re moving.

Your hand slides through the crook of his elbow, settling snugly around his forearm, your body folding into his side without hesitation. He doesn’t move right away. He just lets you cling there for a beat too long, like he wants people to see it. To understand: you’re his.

The waiter reappears awkwardly, fur coat in hand. Azriel accepts it with a nod of thanks, not sparing the male more than a glance. Then he turns his attention back to you—unfolding the coat like a sacred offering.

He holds it open with precision, standing close enough for you to feel the heat of him behind you. You slip your arms in slowly, savouring the chill of fur against bare skin—and the burn of Azriel’s fingers ghosting down your arms as he pulls it up your shoulders, straightening it with infuriating care.

His mouth brushes your ear from behind as he leans in, voice pitched for only you.

“That smug little smile of yours,” he whispers, each syllable a velvet threat, “won’t be so cute when I’ve got your legs tied to the bedposts and my shadows stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.”

Your knees almost buckle.

He doesn’t give you the satisfaction of reacting to it. He only presses a single kiss beneath your ear and straightens, his palm skimming dangerously low over your waist as he guides you forward, arm still laced through yours.

You don’t look back. You don’t need to.

You feel every eye watching as the two of you walk out—like shadows and starlight made flesh.

Reblogs, comments and asks always appreciated!

credits @tsunami-of-tears to for the dividers!

[crimsonfrostx]

please reblog this if it is okay to anonymously confess something to you.

[crimsonfrostx]

@gwynweekofficial

Day 7 - Free Day

My last commission for Gwyn Week 2025, I wanted it to be this artwork of Gwyn finding her HEA with her mate and them sharing a quiet moment under the moonlight

Artist Zolyna 💛💛💛

Repost Not Allowed

[crimsonfrostx]

A Lesson in Blades

Azriel x Reader

Summary: He thought he’d known darkness, but nothing prepared him for the storm you carried behind your soft voice and the way you asked him, so sweetly, to show you how to destroy a man.

“You want me to what?”

Azriel’s voice was low, rougher than usual. Almost like gravel scraped over stone, his wings twitching at his back.

You blinked up at him, unflinching, innocent. Almost.

“Teach me how to stab a guy,” you repeated, tilting your head like you hadn’t just asked the Night Court’s spymaster for a crash course in murder.

The wind was still in the Illyrian mountains. Silence hung, thick and sticky like honey, as Azriel just stared. His shadows, usually a silent hum around him, stilled. Listening.

“I mean,” you added softly, brushing a lock of hair from your cheek, “politely. If that matters.”

It shouldn’t have made his chest tighten.

It shouldn’t have made his shadows stir like they were laughing.

But it did.

He ran a hand through his dark hair, the leathers squeaking faintly as he crossed his arms. “You’re serious.”

You nodded. “Dead serious.”

That wasn’t funny. But the smallest curve of your lips hinted that you knew it might’ve been.

Azriel had been through war. Had carved men open without flinching. Had stood in courts of monsters with a stillness that unnerved even the cruelest of them. But you—standing barefoot in the morning grass, sunlight warming your cheeks, hands clasped behind your back as if asking for a dance lesson instead of dagger training—you unnerved him more than all of it.

“Why?” he asked finally.

You exhaled, and something in your expression shifted. From sweet to steel. “Because next time someone tries to hurt me, I don’t want to be helpless.”

Azriel stilled.

You looked away, toward the edge of the cliff behind the House. The breeze caught your hair, tugging gently. “And... I want you to be the one to teach me.”

His heart forgot to beat for a moment.

You, his mate, asking him to hand you a blade. Asking him to help you protect yourself. Trusting him with that part of you—soft and fierce all at once.

He swallowed. “Alright.”

The first lesson took place at dusk.

Azriel brought you to one of the sparring rings perched high above Velaris, where the breeze carried in sea salt and distant laughter. But here, it was just the two of you.

He handed you a blade. Not one of his siphon-forged ones. This was lighter. Balanced.

You held it like it might break.

Azriel stepped behind you, his body close but not touching. Still, the heat of him was unmistakable. His voice ghosted across your ear. “Hold it like this.” Large hands moved yours gently, guiding your fingers around the hilt.

You shivered.

His shadows curled around your wrist, playful. Curious.

You tried to steady your grip. “So I just... stab them?”

He huffed a breath of something close to laughter. “In theory.”

“In practice?”

“In practice,” Azriel murmured, stepping around to face you now, “you aim for the soft spots. The stomach. The throat. Under the ribs.”

You blinked. “That’s oddly specific.”

Azriel leaned in, voice like a secret. “I’ve had time to learn.”

Your breath caught. The intensity in his hazel eyes—the gold flecks catching the last of the sun—was enough to make your knees wobble.

He noticed.

He always noticed.

“Feet apart,” he said, more gently this time. “Knees bent. You need to stay grounded.”

You mimicked his stance. Determined. Focused.

“You look like you’re about to duel me,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Maybe I am,” you countered, smirking.

The way he looked at you then—it wasn’t just fondness. It was reverence. Awe.

His mate. Holding a blade like a queen might hold a scepter.

Gods, he was in trouble.

You trained together almost every evening after that.

Azriel showed you how to strike without hesitation. Where to aim. How to read body language. When to fight, when to run.

And you... you asked questions. Hundreds of them. Some tactical. Others annoyingly philosophical.

“Do you think killing someone ever stops haunting you?”

Azriel had paused mid-swing at that.

You met his gaze without flinching. “You don’t have to answer if—”

“It does,” he said quietly. “And it doesn’t.”

You’d never asked that again.

Instead, you watched him. Every flick of his blade. Every shift in his body. The way he moved—like he was made of liquid shadows and silence. Deadly, but beautiful.

One night, after a particularly intense session, you collapsed onto the grass beside the ring, panting. Azriel sat beside you, close enough to feel the warmth of his thigh against yours.

“I still don’t think I could do it,” you admitted, staring up at the stars. “Even if someone deserved it. I don’t know if I could go through with it.”

Azriel was quiet for a long time. Then: “Good.”

You turned to him.

“It means you still have something to protect,” he said. “That you know what you’re fighting for.”

And gods help you, but you wanted to kiss him.

You didn’t.

Not yet.

It was on a rainy night that everything finally shattered.

You were in the House library, tucked into a window seat, blade in hand, practicing footwork. Azriel watched you from the doorway, arms crossed, soaked from his latest mission.

He hadn’t said anything yet.

Just watched.

Your eyes met. “How was the mission?”

He didn’t answer.

You straightened, brows furrowing. “Azriel?”

He stepped toward you, slow and deliberate, like he was walking a battlefield.

His face was unreadable.

“What happened?” you asked, quieter now.

He looked at you for a long time, then exhaled. “They hurt someone. A girl. Young. Like you.”

Like you.

Your heart cracked.

You reached for him without thinking. “Az—”

But he moved first. Across the room in two strides, pulling you to him with a rawness that made your breath catch. His arms were steel around you, but he trembled. Just barely.

And when he whispered, “You asked me to teach you how to kill,” it wasn’t a question. It was a confession.

You held him tighter. “I don’t want to kill for revenge.”

“I know.”

“I want to protect what’s mine.”

His shadows rose, circling you both like a cocoon. “And what is yours?”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “You.”

Azriel’s breath stuttered.

Then his mouth was on yours.

Fierce. Desperate. Like you were the first light after centuries in the dark. You kissed him back like you finally understood what it meant to be chosen by fate. To be matched in power and heart and pain.

When he broke the kiss, he pressed his forehead to yours. “You don’t need a blade to be dangerous,” he whispered.

You smiled. “Still. I’d like to be able to stab a guy.”

He laughed, the sound low and real and golden.

Then he kissed you again.

This time slower.

This time like a vow.

Weeks later, in the stillness of the mountains, Azriel watched you train against a dummy with terrifying precision.

His shadows coiled around him, murmuring in contentment.

Cassian approached from the ridge, arms crossed. “She’s getting good.”

Azriel didn’t take his eyes off you. “She’s not just good. She’s dangerous.”

Cassian raised a brow. “And how do you feel about that?”

Azriel smiled.

“Proud. Terrified. Utterly in love.”

Cassian clapped him on the back. “Sounds about right.”

Taglist: @willowpains, @masbt1218, @antonia002, @bookishcait, @fuckingsimp4azriel, @fanficscuziranout, @buttermilktea11, @lilah-asteria, @lreadsstuff,  @flintthegoodboyo, @saltedcoffeescotch,  @okaytrashpanda, @mariaxliliana, @kksbookstuff, @marina468, @tele86, @raccoonworld, Princesssunderworld, dinosandwaffles, @xadenswhore

Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

What am I currently working on? 📚

Request Forum <- click this link to leave a request :)

[crimsonfrostx]

[crimsonfrostx]

[crimsonfrostx]

[crimsonfrostx]

A Road Well Traveled Masterlist

You left 76 years ago without a word. You missed Amarantha's reign of terror. Missed the Archeron sister's turning fae, and even the birth of the newest addition to the Night Court. When you finally come back, will the Inner Court understand why you fled?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

[crimsonfrostx]

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝓢𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓼

A Road Well Traveled (Azriel x Reader)

[crimsonfrostx]

My respect goes out to everyone who writes fanfiction. Whether you're crafting epic sagas, filling in missing moments, or just having fun with an AU, it takes so much creativity and dedication to bring those ideas to life.

Writing isn’t easy—finding the right words, keeping the momentum, and sometimes just convincing yourself to start can be a challenge. And yet, fanfic writers do it anyway, pouring love into their stories, expanding worlds, and giving us all something to obsess over.

I’ve even tried writing myself, and let me tell you—it’s hard. I don’t know if I can keep it going, and now I completely understand why there are so many unfinished fics out there. It takes so much effort to see a story through to the end, and honestly? That makes me respect fic writers even more.

So if you write fanfiction—whether you share it or keep it to yourself—just know that it’s appreciated. You’re amazing. Keep writing.

[crimsonfrostx]

Reblogging one of my favorite digital drawings I did ^_^

[crimsonfrostx]

A Road Well Traveled (Azriel X Reader) Part 6

Word Count: 2607 Warnings: general angst/steamy fluff, slow burn Part 5

It was the simple idea of his lips against yours that kept you awake that night. 

And the next. And most definitely the night after that too. A week passes of you avoiding your best friend like the plague. A week of talking to Rhysand, bonding with Feyre as they try to help, working on strengthening your mental shields to the point of a migraine and an impressed High Lord who couldn't slip into the fortress of your mind. On that final day, nursing a headache from the smug violet eyed bastard, you grit your teeth and pad up the stairs to your room, only to pause on the final step. 

Azriel was waiting for you and the moment you spot him, your heart skips a beat. His wings are flared slightly, the shadows around him agitated, dancing between the two of you. He's leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and eyes locked on you. He watches you approach silently, waiting till you step off the stairs and into the hallway, his expression dark.

You inwardly curse, debating if you have the time or the energy to run away, but a shadow curls around your wrists, tugging you closer. You know you're doomed and heave out a tired sigh, moving through the hall with small measured steps. Stopping in front of him, you slowly glance up from under your lashes. "Hey, Az," you greet hesitantly.

Azriel scoffs at your hesitant tone, his gaze boring into you. "Hey? That's all you're going to say?" his questions gruffly, his wings still flared.

You wince and close your eyes. "Can I get into my room please?" You ignore the pointed jab, knowing you deserved that.

He huffs, a bitter sound and his expression hardens. The shadows wrapped around your wrist gently loosen, freeing it from its hold. He pushes off the wall and moves closer to the door, making a sweeping motion for you to go first.

You brush past him carefully, making sure not to touch him for your own sanity. Shrugging out of your jacket, you keep your back facing him, partly so you don't have to look at his face.

Azriel closes the door behind him, leaning his weight against it and crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze darkening on your form as you shed your jacket. He stands there, watching you, waiting for you to turn around.

After a moment of tense silence, you pointedly glance over your shoulder, trying not to wince at the glare he had leveled at the movement. "What do you want, Az?"

His expression remains hard, like granite, his gaze flicking across your features before settling on your eyes. "We need to talk," he starts, his voice firm as he stands there staring at you.

"About?" You move across the room to your window, taking a seat on the small bench built in.

He sighs, his expression still set in firm lines as he watches you sit. "Do we really have to play this game?" he inquires dryly, his gaze flickering over your body before landing on your face.

You shrug, still not meeting his gaze and instead turning to stare out of the window.

He pushes away from the door, his body tensing before he strides over to stand in front of the window, placing his hands on either side of the sill and boxing you in, his expression turning darker. "Look at me," he orders, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.

You sigh like this was the most tiring thing in the world, and at the moment, you'd argue that it was. But damn, did you miss your friend. Squaring your shoulders and tensing your jaw, you turn your head and look up at him. He's close enough that you can see the individual specks of gold in his hazel orbs, see the small scar at the corner of his lips, can count the dark lashes that frame his eyes. You soften immediately, warmth, affection and fear all swirling together in chaotic harmony for the male in front of you.

His gaze roams over your face as you finally meet his gaze, his body still tensed and he has to refrain from closing the space between you. He can smell your scent so close to him, the subtle notes of wildflowers and rain and his chest tightens. "You've been avoiding me," he observes quietly, his gaze never leaving your face.

"I have," you admit readily, not looking away despite the urge to.

His expression remains stoic, but his gaze holds an edge of pain to it. "Why?" he questions, his voice hoarse and quiet.

You suck in a small breath, eyes wavering slightly, dipping to his lips, the thought that had been plaguing you for days coming back with a vengeance. "I don't know," you say quietly, your body humming with nervous energy that feels out of place around Azriel.

He narrows his gaze on your face, his eyes watching yours flick down to his lips, his own chest tightening in an unfamiliar way. "Liar," he murmurs, his gaze not wavering even when your eyes snaps back to his.

Your lips quirk up traitorously, your eyes shining with emotion that you try your hardest to keep locked tightly inside, lest he felt it in the air around them. When you realize he won't leave until he gets his answer, the smile fades just as quickly, replaced by worry and guilt. "I... I don't know how to feel around you."

He leans a little closer, his face now only inches away from yours. His gaze is intense in a way that leaves you unable to look away, a strange feeling in your gut. "Don't know how to feel around me," he repeats, his voice coming out in a strangled tone. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Your breath hitches in your throat, your eyes half lidded as you watch him. "It means... I value your friendship too much to mess it all up," you say softly, trailing over the sharp lines of his face, like your words were about to drive him away for good and this was the last time you could truly see him.

Azriel falters a bit at your words, his body leaning forward so that the distance between dwindles to practically nothing. "And how, if I may ask," he murmurs, his voice soft in the near silence in the room, "do you think you will mess it up?"

You feel your heart absolutely shatter and you know there is no lying to him. Not now. Not anymore. Maybe he knew the truth of it all along. The words leave you in an exhale, and you don't breathe after they're out. "By loving you more than I should."

The world stops in that instant, the only sound is the thrum of his heart, pounding relentlessly in his chest, the world falling apart at your words.  Azriel's eyes widen slightly, his breath ragged as he tries to process what you said. He stays frozen, his gaze searching your face, not believing that you have just said the words he had longed to hear for so very long.

You want to flee, his eyes burning into your soul and making you wish you had stayed away a little longer. Though you knew the truth of it now, clear as day. There would never be enough time on this planet to stop loving the male in front of you. He had twisted himself around your heart in shadowy tendrils, claiming you in ways neither had noticed until it was far too late. Your eyes held his, waiting for your existence to implode at whatever his next words to be.

Azriel doesn't speak for what seems like an eternity, his gaze roams over your expression, drinking it all in, the only thought running through his mind is that the female he has pined after for half of his life had just admitted to loving him. The one thing he thought he would never have, was standing right in front of him. He doesn't think before acting, his instincts taking over, and he reaches out a hand to cup your cheek, his skin burning hot and his breathing ragged.

You can't help the slight gasp that leaves you at the sudden contact, his touch sending heat through your body, your eyes fluttering. His thumb brushes over your cheek, a gentle caress, and his gaze flickers to your mouth before returning to your eyes. "Say it again." His voice is a strangled whisper, his body pressing you into the bench, leaving nowhere to escape.

You don't hesitate. You can't, not with him looking at you like you were the very night sky that he stared up at in reverence, like you were freedom in the most delicious of ways. "I love you," the words came out easier the second time and they felt right. The most honest you've ever been to yourself and to another.

Azriel makes a strangled sound, almost like a cross between a groan and a whine, his eyes darkening as your words wash over him. He leans even closer, both of his hands now framing your face, his words coming out in a strangled whisper, "Say it again, please."

You close your eyes, savoring his touch, breathing him in. "I love you, Az." your voice shakes at the intensity of the emotions between them, and you can feel the air shift around you with your power, but you can't bring yourself to care. Now right now.

Azriel makes a guttural sound, and in the next instant, he has pulled you to face him, his arms winding around your waist to pull you completely off the window bench. In a move of pure strength, your thighs are now wrapped around his waist, his body pressed heavily against yours. His hands slide up your thighs, leaving heat in their wake, leaving you to cling to his shoulders to save yourself from falling backward. "Say it again."

When you say it again, a whisper that brushes against his lips, he pulls you impossibly tight against him, his mouth moving against yours in desperation. A soft whine leaves you, your hands tangled into his hair like it was the most natural place in the world. He moves until your back hits the wall, a small gasp giving him access to your mouth, exploring the space with skill and precision that has you moaning softly against him. He rips himself away at the sound, burying his face into your neck, leaving them both breathing hard and ragged.

You feel like the world around you has disappeared, his body the only thing you're aware of. Every point of contact between your body is sending sharp jolts of pleasure, your whole system lighting up like wildfire.

His lips brush over the skin of your neck, light feathery brushes that only have you wanting more, one hand gripping your thigh, keeping you pinned against the wall so you didn't slip. "One more time," he whispers against your skin.

You grip his face, bringing him up to meet his gaze, your expression unguarded and open just for him. "I love you, Azriel."

Azriel groans, his grip on your thighs tightening so hard it would probably leave bruises, his expression almost pained as if he can't believe the words coming out of your mouth. He closes the gap between you, his lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, his hands beginning to wonder over your body, setting a fire burning wherever his touch goes.

Your mind goes blank, your world narrowing down to the sensations of his hands roaming over your body, taking in every inch of you. His kiss is fierce and desperate, and he presses you even closer, his hips pinning you to the wall and leaving no space. You can't stop the whimper that leaves you, your own mouth moving with a frenzy, teeth and tongues clashing.

A dizzy wave of heat fills the space between them, making you pull away at the intensity of it. Azriel grunts in disagreement, his eyes snapping open at the distance created, looking like he wanted to argue but stops at the sight of you. He calls your name, worry and wonder in his voice. "Your eyes... they’re glowing," he murmurs softly, his words making your head spin.

"Glowing?" You ask breathlessly, tilting your head in confusion. You suddenly are hyper aware of the overwhelming heat filling the air around the two of you, and how it makes your skin feel like it's about to ignite.

He carefully sets you down, his hands remaining on your shoulders as he guides you to the mirror on the adjacent wall. You feel unsteady at the sight. Azriel was right. Staring back at you in the mirror were glowing white orbs. The air physically shimmered around you, like a curtain of stardust, your power tangible and real to the world.

Azriel stands behind you, his chest pressed to your back, your own power leaving him completely enthralled. His gaze is fixed on your eyes, his hand still resting on your shoulder. He takes a moment to collect himself before he speaks. "That is the most incredible thing I've ever seen," he breathes, and the awe in his voice has you wondering if he means you or your power.

You watch him in the mirror, your body still thrumming with the reminder of his touch. You don't know why you do it, why you know you can force his hand, but you pull at the power in the back of your mind like it was a limb you were born with, weaving it around your best friend and the love of your long life. "Azriel," you call sweetly, eyes never shifting from his face. "How do you feel about me?"

Azriel's eyes flutter, his expression growing dazed as he feels your power wrap around him, making his knees buckle for a brief moment. His breath hitches as he focuses on your question, his breath coming out in a ragged sigh. "You... You are like the air I need to breathe to keep on living," he grits out, his hands gripping your shoulders like a lifeline.

The spell breaks, and you gasp, ripping away from him in horror, your eyes fading into their normal hue as you turn to look at him.

Azriel’s eyes widened as the magic and power that had clouded his mind vanished with your power. The realization of what had just happened hits both of you like a ton of bricks, his expression hardening as he stares at you with shocked eyes. His throat works hard to swallow, your name coming out in a strangled whisper. "You just... controlled me."

Your mouth goes dry, the sudden realization hitting you like a blow to the gut. You watch him carefully, not knowing what to say. Azriel's expression morphs into unreadable, shutting everything down and shuttering like all of his emotions had been replaced by something cold and bitter. It was like watching a fire burn out.

"I didn't... I didn't mean to-" the excuse is on the tip of your tongue, the denial and fear and guilt clogging your throat. "I'm so sorry-"

"Save it." His words are sharp like a blade, and his face is made of stone. All of the passion and softness from before has disappeared in the blink of an eye and your chest tightens at the sight.

You turn and do the only thing you know how to do. You run.

Tag list:

@rcarbo1 @zanaorian @tiffany-xx @goofygoeber @annamariereads16 @suppppp97 @chaosabroad @dallynjennasgirl @iluvyewman-blog @buttermilktea11 @starsidesigh @i-am-infinite @plants-w0rld

[crimsonfrostx]

Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2019

[crimsonfrostx]

Among the Stars

 He was contagious, she decided. Something special that had saved her from herself. She’ll be around to watch the stars in the sky a little longer. Each constellation she memorizes and adores from the confines of the earth, she’ll praise his name with the stars in her eyes and a smile on her lips.

[crimsonfrostx]

A Road Well Traveled (Azriel X Reader)

Part 5

Word Count: 3065 Warnings: Scars, angst, body trauma Part 6 Part 4

You take a shaky breath, the thought of reliving and telling the inner circle your story making your body tremble. But the feeling of Azriel's arms around you, his steady heartbeat against your forehead, gives you a sliver of hope and strength. You could do this. You just needed your family. "We should... go back inside," you breathe out slowly like you're trying to convince yourself.

Azriel nods, his chin still resting on top of your head. "Yes," he murmurs, his arms tightening around you for a moment before he slowly releases you, his hand gently gripping your waist as he leads you back towards the dining room. As the two of you reach the dining room, all eyes turn to you, but no one speaks. Cassian, Rhysand, and Mor, watch you with concern, while Feyre and Elain both look on with curiosity. Nyx was missing, presumably placed back in bed.

The only person who remains unbothered is Nesta, though you suspect that her expression is more out of indifference than anything else. Amren just simply looks expressionless, sipping from a goblet filled with thick scarlet. You blinked at that, having almost forgotten her drinking habits.

Azriel takes his seat, his gaze flickering towards you as you hesitate at the edge of the table. Without speaking, he motions for you to sit, his hand gesturing towards the open chair beside him. You straighten yourself, gliding forward and taking your seat once more in between him and Elain. Rhysand lifts his brow, waiting for an explanation. You sighed and began.

And so, the whole story spills from your lips, in a voice clear and unemotional. You tell them of your departure from the Night Court, your journeys to other Courts and continents you'd been to, and the training you took. You speak of your time away in detail. From your words, they get a sense of the horrors you’ve experienced, and the fact that you have indeed changed, but they hear the loneliness that echoes within you as you describe the long years away from the home you once called family.

The room is hushed, the only sounds coming from the crackle of the fire. 

"And all of this time, you've been dealing with this...power?" Rhysand breaks the silence first, his gaze flicking towards you. You nod slowly, a strange sense of comfort filling you as you get out the things that have haunted you for so long. Azriel is completely still in his seat, having heard things from your in depth explanation that had his mind reeling. "I've been trying to control it. I didn't want to come back until I was sure I wouldn't affect anyone," you continue, feeling your heart ache all over again. "But I couldn't stay away any longer. I heard about some of the things that I missed. I've been trying to get back sooner, but... the anxiety and frustration it's left me with has been making traveling a little harder."

Rhysand's expression softens at your words, his gaze flickering to Azriel. "And you never had any help controlling it?" he asks gently, his concern for you showing. You lift your shoulders slightly in a shrug. "I've tried to find out more about it. Where it came from, if anyone else has ever had this power. I haven't found much, and I haven't come across anyone who doesn't become affected by me sooner or later."

Mor taps a manicured nail against the table, her gaze sharp and calculating. "How have you managed when you're out there all alone?" she asks, her voice filled with curiosity tinged with concern. You dip your head feeling their gazes on you. "It... was difficult," you say carefully.

Rhysand leans forward, his expression hardening. "Difficult how?" he pressed, his eyes scanning your face. You sigh, head lifting to scan their faces.

Cassian leans back in his chair, his gaze sharp and unwavering, his hand clenching on his knee. Mor's brows are furrowed, her usual carefree demeanor replaced with a look of seriousness you've only seen a few times. Feyre leans into Rhysand, her gaze glued to you, while Elain's hands are clasped in her lap, her face pinched in concern. Nesta looks mildly interested, though you suspect she's listening intently. Azriel is the only one who looks as he always has, though the only thing that betrays his indifference is the way his fists are clenched in his lap, his knuckles white. Amren… remains Amren.

"I don't want to talk about it, Rhys," you try to keep your voice steady.

Rhysand eyes you intently, his gaze flickering to the others around the table before returning to you. "I think you need to," he replies firmly, his voice leaving no room for argument.

You look like you want to argue. You don't see the use of this conversation. What was the point? You breathe in deeply, trying to control the current of emotions beginning to burn you from the inside. "It won't change anything," you point out softly.

Azriel's eyes narrow. "It will," he chimes in, his voice firm. "We need to know how to help you. We need to know what you've been going through." You grit your teeth, deciding that Azriel was now officially a traitor. "I affect everything and everyone," you mutter, clenching your hands into fists in your lap. "I found out the hard way."

Azriel’s gaze flickers, his jaw clenching as he considers your words. "What do you mean, you found out the hard way?" he presses gently, his expression darkening.

You hated this. Closing your eyes, you have to remind yourself that your family was just worried and curious. They didn't mean harm. Azriel didn't know the hurt he was asking you to relive. "I mean," you start slowly, eyes opening to stare down at the table, "that even animals and creatures can get pissed off and agitated by me."

Understanding seems to register in Azriel’s gaze, his expression hardening. The others look at you with a mixture of pity and shock, but stay silent, waiting for you to continue your story. "I tried getting away from civilization, thinking it would be safer for everyone if I just... disappeared into the forests. One wrong nightmare later, and I found myself being mauled by anything with claws close by."

Rhysand's eyes widen, a look of horror flashing in his expression. "Mauled... by what?" he asks, his voice hoarse with concern.

You physically shudder, the images flashing behind your eyes. "A few different things," you grit out, standing slowly, hand raising the material of your shirt, your other hand pushing the band of your pants down slightly. Large, ragged scars crossed your torso and disappeared down your hip, various lengths and widths. But all of them were clearly made by multiple sets of claws, your body having been shredded viciously.

Azriel's gaze lands on the scars, his eyes widening in horror. His gaze travels over the numerous scars, taking in the extent of what you've been through. He clenches his hands into fists, his body trembling with emotion.

Mor and Feyre cover their mouths, their eyes wide in horror. The table is deathly silent as they take in the extent of the trauma your body has endured. You fix your clothes, eyes distant and feeling numb, sitting back down. "I know it's not a meal friendly show and tell," you offered over a humorless chuckle.

Silence fills the room once more as the weight of your words and the horror of your experience sinks in. Everyone is clearly affected, their faces filled with shock and disbelief. After a moment, Azriel, who looks as if he's fighting the urge to be sick, finally speaks. "How did you..." he starts but can't seem to finish the sentence.

"How did I get away? How did I survive?" You finished for him, knowing that's what they were all thinking. "I didn't get away. My fear began affecting them too, and they ran, leaving me shredded and dying."

Azriel flinches as the words leave your lips, his heart clenching painfully in his chest. The thought of you alone and injured, bleeding out in the middle of nowhere, sends his heart plunging.

The table is eerily silent again as everyone grapples with what you've said. The image of your body, left to bleed out in the dark, is too much to handle. It's too much to imagine you laying there and suffering, alone and scared, dying a slow, painful death. The ones you know the best are horrified. Rhysand, Cassian, and Mor look pale, and even Amren had frowned, her silvery eyes still locked on where your scars were now covered.

You pick up your drink and down it in one go, not meeting anyone's gaze. Mor eventually breaks the silence, her voice coming out quietly behind her own drink. "...What happened after that?"

You shrug, acting indifferent to hide the tremors that had started, the edge of your power flicking up, anxiety, unease, and fear beginning to spill from you. "I laid there for over two days. Someone eventually came across me, patched me up the best they could."

Azriel’s jaw clenches at the thought of you laying there injured and alone for two days with no hopes of help ever coming. He can feel your emotions beginning to spill over and he forces himself to relax, his breathing slow and steady in an attempt to combat your feelings.

"You're lucky to be alive after that," Rhysand says quietly, his gaze flickering over your trembling form. You nod slowly, eyes drifting over their faces before blankly looking at the table. "Yeah... lucky." You murmur, placing your empty glass back down. "I think I need to rest. Could you ward my old room?" You ask Rhysand without looking his way.

Rhysand clears his throat, glancing at Azriel, a tight nod following. "Of course," he replies gently, "and if you need it, I'll even put wards around the common rooms." You just nod, knowing that Azriel was probably communicating silently with him.

Rhysand stands, excusing himself from the table and disappearing down the hallway. Azriel's eyes follow him and then land back on you, his expression softening. "I'm going to walk you to your room,"he murmurs gently, his gaze flickering over your face.

Another slow nod, like all of your energy has just left you. You didn't want them to know the worst of it. Didn't want them to see you broken and bare, but now maybe they'll understand the danger of this power. The things it can make people and creatures do. You wait a few moments, blocking out the rest of the table and their eyes full of pity. Even Cassian has his head turned away, trying and failing to school his expression to something other than horror. Maybe it was disgust. You finally stand, carefully maneuvering out of the dining room without a word, moving to grab your bag by the front door.

Azriel immediately stands and follows you, catching up with several long strides. He silently grabs the bag from your hand, tossing it over one of his shoulders like it weighed next to nothing. The walk to your bedroom is quiet, the two of you both lost in your own thoughts. You take the stairs slowly, hand on the rail to guide yourself up. Reaching the top, you catch Rhysand slipping out of your room from down the hall, having just finished warding.

Rhysand pauses in his steps, his gaze flickering between the two of you. He doesn't speak, just looks at the way Azriel stands beside you, so close your shoulders are almost touching. But Azriel's gaze is locked forward, his focus on nothing else but the door in front of him that leads to your bedroom.

Rhysand lets his gaze linger for a few moments, his expression softening slightly as he watches you both. He eventually makes his way down the stairs, disappearing from view towards the rest of the group downstairs.

Azriel gently pushes open the door to your old bedroom, setting your bag down next to it, before following you in. Despite the lack of use, the room is clean and neat, bed and furniture still intact. Azriel glances at the walls, seeing the faint glow of Rhysand's wards.

You glance around, heart clenching at the fact that it remains untouched. "I hope it works," you say softly, eying the glow of the wards.

Azriel watches you take in the room, a small frown tugging at his brow. His gaze lands on your own, taking in your expression. "If it doesn't, we'll figure something else out," he replies, the words leaving his mouth in a soft, determined tone. 

You watch him silently for a moment, tilting your head to the side like you’re analyzing him.

Azriel raises a brow, his eyes roaming over your face, taking in the careful mask you’re placing on your expression. He crosses his arms, shifting on the balls of his feet. “What are you doing?” he asks, keeping his tone gently to not disturb the silence in the room.

"Wondering where this optimistic version of you came from," you mused quietly, the pain was still in your eyes though not nearly as prominent now that they were alone.

Azriel’s expression softens at your words, his own eyes looking you over. He takes a step closer, close enough to reach out and touch you if he could. “This version of me is always here,” he replied quietly, “usually you have to pay attention to see him.”

Your lips quirk up into a small, sad smile. "Bold of you to assume that I have never not paid attention to you."

He takes another step closer, his expression turning into one of seriousness, his gaze roaming over you. "Really? I recall quite a few missions where you blatantly ignored me." He takes yet another step, his body mere inches away.

You raise your hands, setting them against his chest, feeling the muscles flex slightly to adjust to your touch. "I'm very good at acting," you counter, his proximity making your heart race. Azriel bows his head down, lips lifting up into a slow smile.

“You think you’ve been the only one ‘acting’?” he asks lowly, hands coming up and resting gently on your hips. You gaze up at him, your breath catching your throat. "What do you mean?"

He pulls you flush against him, not answering you immediately, relishing in the way your breath hitches. He drops his gaze towards your face, taking you in. His gaze flicks over your lips, studying them like he wants to memorize them. His hands gently grip your hips tighter, as if trying to keep you from disappearing. He murmurs softly, "Are you telling me you truly didn't know I was always paying attention to every little detail about you?”

You take a deep, shuddery breath, attempting to keep it together under his gaze and touch. His nearness made your heart thunder and your mind grow light and dizzy. "I-" you try to speak but the words seem to get stuck. How do you tell him that you had noticed how he would pay attention to you, would sit right next to you during meetings or training, and would gravitate toward you in any room. You always had hoped for more than his friendship, but had seen his eyes on Mor on more than one occasion. You settled for keeping him as a friend, and thought for sure he’d despise you for leaving.

He squeezes your hips gently and his gaze flicks over your features, trying to read every expression in your eyes, every tremble. "It drove me to madness how I could never get you out of my mind. How I tried to forget the way your laugh sounded. The smell of you - wildflowers and rain..." He leans in, his nose nuzzling against your neck, inhaling slowly.

"Az," it's a broken, pleading sound that stops him, your hands shaking against his chest.

Azriel freezes, your voice breaking through the fog of wanting you. He takes a small, reluctant step back, his own body trembling. "I-" he starts, his eyes roaming your features, desperately trying to figure out what's going on in your head. What made you pull away from him when he had been so close to taking what he had always wanted. What he thought you had wanted.

"I can't do this," you say softly, your voice breaking. You turn away from him, pacing to the other side of the room. 

Azriel watches you, his eyes wide as you distance yourself from him. His hands fist at his side, wanting to grab you and pull you back to him. "Why?" he asks quietly, his voice strained.

You turn back around and look at him. "Because! Because I have been away for seventy six years! I haven't seen anyone from this family, the only people I can trust in the world, in that entire time. You have no idea how alone and scared I was out there. And now, I am completely terrified that I'm going to kill someone because of this power. I'm absolutely scared to death that I will lose you forever. My control is so close to slipping all of the time. I can't add you to that. I won't." You suck in a sharp breath, looking devastated. "I don't even know if this is you, or if this is my emotions affecting you."

Azriel's shoulders drop, his gaze pained and shattered, but filled with more emotions than you have ever seen before. Anger, pain, confusion, and fear. But also affection, desire, want. "You really don't know if this is me or emotions you've affected me with," he nearly scoffs, his voice a hoarse whisper.

You nearly flinch, your eyes watering, as you try to breathe through it. "I... I don't. I'm sorry," you whisper back weakly.

Azriel's throat tightens as he sees the tears in your eyes, and he turns, crossing the room, stopping at your door. He glances over his shoulder to speak, his voice low and gruff, his shadows swirling around him like they were agitated. "Get some rest. We will speak in the morning." He murmurs without looking at you again and slips out the door, closing it softly behind him, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Tag list:

rcarbo1 zanaorian tiffany-xx goofygoeber annamariereads16 suppppp97 chaosabroad dallynjennasgirl