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illyrian-dreamer · 1 year

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Spin the bottle

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

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

Word count: 2.1k

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This was stupid. Stupid stupid stupid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

That only left the amused, yet still brooding Shadowsinger.

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

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

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

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

“Oh, and you’re not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll say,” Feyre added.

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

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

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

————

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

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

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

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

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

“What happened back there?” you poached again.

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

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

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

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

“I didn’t want to.”

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

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

You gawked at your friend. “Excuse me?”

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

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

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

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

“Are you jealous?” you collected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thanks always for reading! MWA