#gwyn berdara fanfiction

[gwynrielshappyendings]

Unwrap the ✨️spice✨️ this holiday season with a special gift from a few of us in the Gwynriel community!

Gwyn and Az have been gifted the Kama Sutra for Solstice. Join them as they explore the positions and each other. 😉

Fics will post daily between December 1st-24th.

Follow us on Tumblr and our Ao3 Collection (coming soon!)

Image by @sadiegirl2021

[dawneternal]

Yes, Valkyrie

₊⊹ Gwynriel one shot

₊⊹ Gwyn is inspired by a scene in her current read. Of course, she begins conspiring to reenact this scene, with a little help from Azriel's shadows. Somewhere along the way, she discovers a persona she had no idea was waiting under the surface.

₊⊹ Word Count: 2.8k

₊⊹ Warnings: Smut, 18+, minors DNI. Established relationship. Gwyn is in charge, Az is tied up (kind of) p in v, shadow play, wing play.

(listen I don't write that much smut so idk how to tag this, if I missed anything pls let me know)

₊⊹ Read on AO3

₊⊹ Divider by tsunami-of-tears

Gwyn snapped her book shut and set it on the table in front of her. She took a long sip of her iced coffee in an attempt to cool her warm skin. The story was getting a little too salacious to read in public. Nesta or Emerie would probably keep reading, though they were both better at masking their emotions.

She glanced at Azriel, who hadn't noticed a thing, engrossed in his own book. She wasn't sure if it was something he was reading for fun or for work. They all tended to look the same, thick and weathered with a million dog-eared pages and notes in the margins. As his mate and a librarian, Gwyn should probably know. But she wasn't often thinking about books when she was with him.

Like now, as she found her eyes wandering from the long-winded title on the spine to his long fingers, poised to turn the page. Her gaze slid up, tracing the outline of his form. It was his day off and he wore a black shirt that hugged his muscled arms and torso. His black curls were perfectly messy, tortoiseshell reading glasses perched on his nose. His shadows buzzed around him like sleepy bees on a sunny day - a sign that he was actually relaxed. Even while he focused, brows furrowed and bottom lip poked out in concentration, he kept a claiming hand on Gwyn's thigh.

He did not notice her scent change as her thoughts turned back toward her book, replacing the love interest's features with his. The love interest of this story happened to have wings like Azriel, and a few specific lines were echoing in her mind. He had let her touch his wings before, but nothing quite like the scene she had just read.

Gwyn swallowed a wicked grin and stretched her arms up and out, letting out a long, pretend yawn. She let her fingertips brush the edge of his wing as she brought her arms back down. He started, shadows darting into action as his wings tucked into his body with a snap. He turned his head toward her slowly with a wide-eyed look that read are you crazy?

"My bad," Gwyn smiled innocently. Azriel blinked at her for a moment before returning to his reading. But she felt it, the flicker of heat he had sent through the bond as her fingers had brushed his wing.

✦✦✦

When they returned to the House of Wind, Gwyn quietly trailed Azriel into their shared room. His shadows were on her side today, choosing not to alert him to the fact that he was being followed. She was the only one who was silent enough to sneak up on him.

She closed the door with a thud, leaning against it, and that wicked grin returned. Azriel jumped, head whipping to look over his shoulder. The shadows danced with amusement at their clever trick.

"Yes, Valkyrie?" He huffed a breath. Her gaze lingered on his backside, meandering up to meet his gaze as he turned around fully.

"I have an idea," Gwyn said.

Her voice was a note deeper than usual and it had his attention. He tilted his head at her, eyes gleaming with interest.

"Do you trust me?" Gwyn continued, and she watched his eyes darken.

"Yes," His voice was a little breathy and the Valkyrie grinned.

"Wings only," She explained, pushing off the door and stalking closer until they were nearly chest to chest.

Azriel's eyebrows shot upwards, but Gwyn did not miss the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

"Yes," He said again, after a moment.

Gwyn reached out, sliding her hands under his shirt to lift it from his body. He let her, utterly still as she pulled it over his head and began a constellation of kisses, connecting his tattoos and battle scars. The bond was humming, pulsing with warmth at every touch, doubling the thrill of anticipation. He watched in adoration, fingers tangling in her ponytail as she unbuckled his belt and slid his pants and underwear to the floor.

"Kneel on the bed," She ordered, blood singing with anticipation as she looked up at him. His cock twitched at the command and he obeyed, crawling into the bed and kneeling in front of her. Arms loose at his sides, muscular thighs spread, his body was on full display.

Gwyn let her hair down, the white ribbon that had been tied in a bow now dangling from her fingers. She circled around to the other side of the bed and gently grasped his wrists. His breath hitched as she bound his hands with the ribbon, but he did not protest.

"Good boy," Gwyn murmured, pressing one chaste kiss to his shoulder before moving to face him again.

She caught his gaze dragging over her as she stood before him, and she let herself admire him in turn. His smooth bronze skin, slim hips and absurdly defined abs, and strong arms that could break through the ribbon any time he wanted. But judging by his blown pupils and hardening cock, he was exactly where he wanted to be.

Gwyn peeled her clothes off slowly, holding his eye contact as she did so. She let her breasts bounce as she pulled off her bra, chuckling as his shadows rushed forward to caress her bare nipples.

"Keep your shadows to yourself, pretty boy," She murmured, swallowing a gasp at their cool, light touch. Almost reluctantly, they returned to their master, swirling around his head like a dark halo.

Free of her clothes, Gwyn moved to stand before him, eyes flicking over the sweat already beading at his brow. She lifted his chin with her fingers and smirked as she bypassed his lips, leaning to press soft kisses down his throat, drinking in the rapid beat of his pulse. She traced his body with a gentle touch, running over the lines of his tattoos and the grooves between his muscles. It was a routine she could not bring herself to break, mapping his body with the affection he deserved. She heard his breath hitch again, wings rustling behind him as they untucked and spread.

The Valkyrie climbed onto the bed and moved behind him, peppering the back of his neck and shoulders with open mouthed kisses, tongue sliding over his skin. Avoiding his wings just yet.

"Are you ready?" She leaned forward and purred into his ear, breasts pressed against his back.

"Mhm," He murmured, chest rising and falling.

"Words, shadowsinger."

"I'm ready," He stammered, as if it were hard to conjure words in this position.

"You'll tell me any time you want to stop?"

"I promise."

Satisfied, Gwyn began, dipping her finger into the inside seam where the velvety dark wing met his skin, facing toward his shoulder blade. The skin was especially soft, protected from wind and sun. He let out a quiet moan, arching his back into her touch.

"So responsive," Gwyn murmured, circling her fingers around to the other side, stroking along the thick base of his wing.

"I can't help it," He groaned, shivering again.

"No?" She asked, leaning forward to run her tongue over the spot where her fingers had just been. The base of the wing was fuzzy, like the skin of a peach.

"Fuck," Azriel grunted.

"So my book wasn't lying?" She asked, her voice like a sultry song. Her hands continued their exploration, up the solid arches of his wings toward the shining talons.

"I should've guessed this came from a book," He ground out.

Gwyn wanted him incapable of speech, not taunting her. So she pressed harder, raking her nails back down the thin membrane as she licked a stripe up his spine. His wings shivered, trembling with the effort of deciding wether to lean in or move away. A conflict that Azriel often subjected her to, and now she could get even.

"What were you saying?" She crooned, and smirked when she got no answer. Only the shadowsinger's heavy breathing, his shadows pulsing around him.

She touched every inch of wing, memorizing their beautiful shape, adding every curve and texture to the map in her mind. Every seam had a dip the perfect size for her finger to drag through, the skin so delicate, the structure so intricate and lovely.

His body shone with sweat as  worshipped without mercy, savoring the salty taste of his skin as she pulled moan after and moan from his throat. It almost seemed as though those wings were built purely for pleasure, the way his body reacted to her touch, the noises he made purely sinful.

By the time she had returned to her starting point, having licked, nipped and stroked everything she could reach, Azriel's entire body shook.

She rose up on her knees and peered over his shoulders to catch a glimpse of his face, contorted in pleasure, and his cock, red and weeping. A few times, his shadows swept in toward her and then backed away, just barely brushing her skin. As if Azriel had begun to reach for her and then remembered the rules.

"Tell me which part you like best," She let her breath brush over his ear again, reveling in the goosebumps spreading in response. He was so close to falling apart, one foot in a realm of pure pleasure.

"The-the," He swallowed hard, a groan escaping in between words as he answered, "The inside, near my shoulder blades."

Gwyn hummed, watching his muscles tighten in anticipation as her fingertips moved back toward that inner seam. The sounds he released as she found that hidden spot lit a fire in the Valkyrie's stomach. She didn't have to look to know that her arousal was dripping onto the bed beneath her. As if she cared, right now.

"Fuck," He groaned, "I can't...I need...."

Gwyn was driven wild by the glistening muscles flexing against the ribbon that bound him. She threaded her fingers into his dark curls and tugged, not very gently.

"Come for me," She commanded, voice low and wicked and she dug her fingertips in deeper.

The moan that he released was nothing like his usual gutteral groan. This was higher pitched, soft and breathy and elicited from some deep and desperate place. Gwyn did not know that a noise could make her cunt throb the way it did.

She gave him barely a moment to come down from his high before she was crawling around to face him, grabbing his face in her hands and kissing him fiercely. He chased her lips with his, emitting broken sounds into her throat as her tongue swept in.

Pulling back to look at him, panting, she wasn't sure she had ever felt this desperate. Azriel was entirely undone and at her mercy, his chest slick with sweat and painted with his cum, hands still tied behind him as he panted. His hair stuck up where she had pulled it, his eyes dark and full of desire. And something new, that she hadn't seen before. She was sure he'd seen it often. It was desperation, like he was one kiss away from begging for what he wanted.

"Do as I say and you'll be rewarded," She said, leaning in to graze his lips as she spoke. She kissed him again, softly. Agonizingly slow, even as he tried to speed up.

Gwyn pulled back, dragged two fingers through the stripes of white dripping down his torso and pushed them into his mouth.

"Suck."

His cock twitched against her thigh, already hard and aching again. He kept his eyes locked on hers as his warm tongue swirled around her fingers, throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"Good boy," She murmured, and the whine he let out was against his will.

Gwyn had been in charge before, but she had never dared to be this bossy. It had not even come from the book that had inspired this whole thing. This had emerged from somewhere deep inside her, and it set every inch of her skin on fire. Azriel's eyes burned into hers as she took her fingers from his mouth, tightening his lips so her fingers made a pop upon release. He watched as she reached between her legs with those fingers, coated in his spit, for some relief.

She bit her lip, swallowing a moan, cheeks reddening in desperation.

"Can I touch you?" Azriel croaked, pulling at the ribbon that Gwyn had almost forgotten about.

"Remember your manners," She said, fingers still circling between her legs.

"Can I please touch you?"

Gwyn reached around with her free hand and pulled the knot undone. Immediately, one strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her into his lap to straddle him. And his other hand pushed hers aside, dipping a finger into her soaked cunt.

She was lost to it for a moment as relief rolled through her body. The shadowsinger took the opportunity to attack her neck, kissing and marking with fervor. She closed her eyes and basked in his touch for just a moment before she remembered her task. She would not let her control slip away so easily.

Her eyes snapped open, and she felt a wave of satisfaction as the shadowsinger shrank, just a little. His plan had not worked. The shadows shuddered, as if giggling at their master's foolishness.

"You promised to do as I say," It was almost a growl. She pushed his shoulders until he was laying down, legs straightening out before him as she straddled his hips. "And you tried to take control from me."

Gwyn lowered her body, movements fluid and graceful like a predator, until her chest was pressed against his and they were nose to nose.

"I think I deserve an apology, don't you?" She purred, hips circling and spreading her arousal over his length.

"Yes," He breathed, the amber of his eyes barely visible behind his pupils, "I'm sorry."

"Yes what?" She demanded, sliding her hand up around his throat and pressing the lightest amount of pressure against the sides, "I'm sorry what?"

His eyes widened and for a moment she thought she had gone too far, but then she felt a moan in his throat, vibrating beneath her palm.

"Yes Valkyrie," His voice was broken, body softening like putty under her hands, "I'm sorry, Valkyrie."

"Good boy," A grin spread across Gwyn's face. She sat up, keeping that hand wrapped around his throat as she rose up and aligned them. The other braced against his chest. She did not bother with a slow entry, sinking down on his cock in one motion, thighs flush against hips. He let out a hiss as she paused to let herself adjust.

The world around her was fading as her desperation grew, her body aching almost painfully. It would almost be a mercy to relinquish control again. But she craved the rush of this position as much as she craved release.

"Let your shadows touch me," She choked out the words, beginning to move her hips. Azriel obeyed, letting his shadows loose. They circled her body and attacked, swirling over every part of her they could reach.

Her high was approaching fast, urged on by the sight of Azriel below her, face flushed and lips parted. She pressed against his throat and chest harder, using him as leverage to angle herself deeper. He watched,  mesmerized by the rhythm of her body, and grasped her hips, fingertips digging in as he urged her faster. Every rise and fall of her hips made an obscene slap, echoing through the room.

With a shadow attached to each nipple and one moving over her clit, she was soaring close to the edge. She slammed down harder, a grunt escaping in time with each smack of her ass against his thighs. Azriel reached up and squeezed her breasts, rolling both nipples between his fingers.

The change from the shadows soft touch to his firm hands pulled her over. Her head fell back as she roared, louder than she had ever let herself. Azriel's hands slid down around her waist to keep her moving and extend the waves of bliss. The hand around Azriel's throat finally loosened, nails dragging down his chest in time with a long, breathy moan.

Finally, she slumped forward, letting her body fall against his as she closed her eyes. Azriel wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. He let her lay still for a long moment before whispering, cautiously,

"Is this still the Valkyrie or is this my Gwyn again?"

"Gwyn," She murmured against his skin. Whatever vixen that possessed her had retreated, leaving her spent and sweaty.

"Good," He said, his voice dropping a note lower. She squealed as those strong arms flipped her around and she found herself laying underneath him, staring up into his smirking face.

"But...." She whispered, suddenly shy, "Did you like her? The Valkyrie?"

"I think I'd have to meet her again to be sure" Azriel murmured, nosing at the space between her shoulder and neck, breath hot against her skin, "But for now it is my turn."

[bearbluebooks]

A commission for a Court of Whispered Melodies made by @lucielart

I am so excited to finally share this commission made by the super talented @lucielart. Be sure to check her out on Instagram!

For day 7 @gwynrielweeksofficial - healing

The vision for the piece was inner calm, rest, peace.

I believe they will be each other’s safe spaces through their mutual understanding of hurt and trauma. Azriel will be finally able to breathe and lay down his head to rest as Gwyn watches over him. Azriel will help her realize her own strength and resilience.

I can’t wait to explore this theme and their journey in the fic. Read the first three chapters on AO3.

[acotargiftexchange]

Sign-Ups are officially open!!

You can sign up for the gift exchange HERE

Sign-ups will run between Sept 9th and Sept 21st, CST. Sign-ups will close at midnight, and no exceptions will be made for anyone attempting to sign-up past that date so we have ample time to pair people.

Please remember to read the rules before signing up. If you have any questions, please reach out and an admin will get back to you as quickly as possible.

FAQ | About | Rules

[thevalkyriesshadow]

@freyjas-musings - A drabble for you! Inspired by a couple Gwynriel bathroom headcanons of mine as well as this steamy Instagram reel

💖 Enjoy 💖

The House was quiet as Azriel entered the dining room. No one was in the sitting room. No one lingered in the halls. Though as he neared his room, he did hear the distinct sound of water running in the baths situated between his room and The House's newest inhabitant -- Gwyneth Berdara's room.

And of course after two days of her being here, the personal bathrooms went on the fritz -- well, just his and Gwyn's.

The House, the clever structure that it was, created a new bathroom between their rooms as it worked out it's own problem. (Don't ask how or why The House was able to produce a new bathroom instead of just fixing the old...it vexed Azriel to no end.)

Not that he minded having to share a bathroom, but he did like the solitary usage of his personal one...

As he passed the bathroom to get to his room he heard another sound amidst the trickling of water; something he hadn't heard coming from the shared bathroom before.

Singing.

And it was ethereal. Beautiful.

Was that Gwyn?

He stood outside the door for a moment, letting the sound carry over him and wash away the tension in his shoulders. His jaw unclenched and he took a deep breath. Music was often a way to unwind and shake off the stress of a job, but this singing was...transcending, divine.

There were no words as the voice carried through the wooden doors. Just 'oohs' and 'ahhs'.

That had to be Gwyn right? Nesta wouldn't use it. She had her own bathroom.

Then the voice dropped an octave, and words began pouring out. A language he didn't recognize, but a voice he knew.

The acoustics of the bathroom amplified Gwyn’s voice. Her cadence ebbed and flowed.

For the first time in three days since he left for his mission, Azriel felt...calmed.

He may not recognize the language she sang in and the power of its words, but he yearned for the sensation that flowed over him -- through him -- serenity. Stillness.

No anxious thoughts pervaded his mind. No fears or worries.

Only peace.

And as he listened to her belt out the words at the top of her lungs, not a care who heard, Azriel felt a squeezing in his chest. A tug.

Her singing faded into the steady stream of the water. There was a loud squeak, and the water stopped.

The silence broke his reverie. Azriel hadn't realized he'd closed his eyes. Hadn't realized he'd leaned against the door as he listened and lost himself in teal blue eyes. Lost himself imagining how her mouth might move as she sings. Imagining what it would feel like to sing with her....

Not wanting to be caught lingering outside of the bathroom when Gwyn emerged, Azriel hurried off to his room to change and gather his own things for a shower.

---

Gwyn thought she'd finally be getting her own bathroom moving into The House, but of course, fate seemed to have it's own ideas.

Fate or The House was pranking her.

She wrapped herself in a towel as she got out of the shower, looking forward to putting on the silky, light blue pajamas The House provided her. She had an exhausting day of training the new Valkyrie recruits, assisting in the Library, and conducting research for Rhysand. She wasn't tired, tired, so she would probably be staying up to rearrange her books - again -

When she had moved in a couple weeks ago, she had only ten books to her name. But every day since she'd moved in, she would return to her room at the end of the day to find The House had dropped a pile of new books for her onto her bed. Some books she'd never even think to read, like ones about dagger making and types of rope knots. There were books on the history of Prythian. Another titled Espionage and You: An In Depth Discussion of the Moral Code, and of course, lots and lots of romance and adventure novels.

Gwyn slipped into her pajamas, ate the small plate of cookies The House provided her, then grabbed her toothbrush and headed back to the bathroom.

She had just put the toothpaste on the brush when the door to the showers opened. A billowing cloud of steam and shadows poured out.

Gwyn balked as Azriel emerged from the mist, a towel slung low on his hips. His shadows darted out, twirling around Gwyn’s hair and toothbrush.

Azriel froze in the doorway as he spotted Gwyn. Water dripped from tendrils of inky black hair. It ran in little rivulets down his neck and shoulders. Some of the water pooled into the little divet of his clavicle. Other streams continued over the tattoos on his chest and trailed down...down...

Her eyes darted back up to his.

The smallest of smirks tugged at the corner of his mouth.

Gwyn, by some unexplained reason, continued to brush her teeth while casually staring back at him. She waited for him to say something first.

But he didn’t.

Instead, he watched his shadows dance around her before joining her at the counter. His tore his gaze from hers, only to catch it again in the mirror as he picked up his toothbrush and began his nightly bedtime routine.

She tried, and failed then, to ignore Azriel’s reflection.

But gods damned those muscles as he moved his arm to brush his teeth....

It was like they were purposefully tormenting her, begging her to watch them as they tensed and flexed with every movement he made and --

Her gaze caught his brilliant hazel eyes watching her watch him in the mirror. The golden flecks amidst the green hues sparkled with amusement as a blush crept across her cheeks.

Gwyn peeled her eyes away from him, focusing on her own reflection.

Damn. She didn't realize how cropped her shirt was, or how noticeable her nipples were as they poked through the thin fabric. Maybe Azriel didn't notice.

She chanced another glance.

Oh, Azriel definitely noticed.

His eyes were currently sweeping over her in the reflection before he bent forward and spit into the sink, rinsing away his discarded toothpaste with a quick twist of the faucet.

It was his turn to blush as his gaze met hers in the mirror, knowing full well he'd been caught checking her out.

So...Gwyn held his gaze for a moment, then lowered it, unapologetically, taking in the lithe muscles of his shoulders and chest, the way his body sloped to a tapered waist.

A sensual warmth spread from her lower spine and pooled deep within her.

Her gaze certainly lingered longer than it should have on the smattering of hair that extended above the low hanging towel perched on his waist.

She spit her toothpaste into the sink and looked over at him. Not in the mirror this time, but at him directly.

The Shadowsinger was already looking over at her, brushing his teeth lazily, as if his mind momentarily forgot what it was doing until she caught his gaze.

Normally, when Azriel stared at someone, it was with an icy coldness.

But never with Gwyn.

With Gwyn, Azriel looked at her with reverence.

A rare softness fell over his features.

Then he drooled toothpaste and was pivoting to the sink to spit it out. His blush spread further across his cheeks and ears as he hastily finished brushing his teeth.

Then Azriel, the terrifying Spy Master of the Night Court, tapped his toothbrush on the sink, dropped it into the holder, and with a wink and a devilish smirk Azriel finally spoke.

"You have a lovely singing voice, by the way," he said, his voice dark and husky. The sound sent shivers down her spine.

Gwyn's eyes went wide, and something in her chest hummed and tugged as she watched Azriel saunter past her, willing her to follow him. Her gaze dropped to the dimples of his lower back, reveled at the way his muscles moved as he twisted back around to flash her another more sheepish smile before ducking out of the doorway.

Forget reorganizing her bookshelf. Tonight, Gwyn was going to pick up the juiciest romance she could find from her new drop today and indulge in a little self-care.

[freyjas-musings]

@thebeginnersclock ,

Here is a little post of appreciation for you my friend. Your Gwynriel works has been a bright spot on a lot of difficult days in my life. Unless I am really stuck doing something very important I always spend time reading whatever you have written as soon as it's posted and it's never once failed to bring a smile on my face.

So , I made a little master list of all of your works ... It is also a little something for every Gwynriel who hasn't discovered your page yet... to go through the rich treasure trove of Gwynriel goodness you have gifted us . Thank you for the time and effort you take to write for us 🤗

MASTER LIST - GWYNRIEL WORKS

Someone to stay

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

The Priestess

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Clueless shadowsinger

Part 1

Part 2

Night Talks

One shot

Azriel's Bonus

Drabble

Frost and shadows

Drabble

Voided Echoes

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

House of healing

Drabble

SparksAwaken

One shot

The New chaperone

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Nobody

Drabble

Oleanna

Part 1

Part 2

By the rivers of Sangravah

Drabble

Rainy Reunion

Part 1

Part 2

Part 2.5

Part 3

Fluffy Wing

Drabble

Payback's a bitch

Drabble

First kiss

Drabble

Game night

Drabble

Gwyneth babydara

Drabble

Spill the tease

Drabble

Light and shadows

Part 1

Part 2

We accept the love we think we deserve

Part 1

Part 2

What's your favourite food

Drabble

Survival of the fishiest

Part 1

Part 2

Sellyn Drake

Part 1

Part 2

How I met your mother (ongoing)

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8 || Part 9 ||

Lightsinger

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Too Late

Drabble

Lullaby

Drabble

COUCH

Drabble

[tpcanvas]

DAY 9: Music 🎻

Instagram: tp.canvas

#GwynrielWeeks2024

Title: Melodies of the heart🎶

Gwyn and Azriel strolled along the tranquil shores of the lake. The night was alive with the symphony of nature, and they found solace in each other's company after a long day in the bustling Night Court.

As they walked, Gwyn's eyes sparkled with mischief as she spotted a patch of green lake flowers swaying gently in the breeze. Without hesitation, she waded into the cool water, her laughter floating back to him on the night air.

Curious, Azriel followed her, his gaze never leaving her radiant form. He watched as she twirled and danced among the waves, her laughter mingling with the gentle lapping of the water against the shore.

Lost in the moment, Gwyn began to sing, her voice weaving a spellbinding melody that echoed across the lake. The notes danced in the air, intertwining with the rustle of the leaves and the soft whisper of the breeze.

Azriel watched in awe as Gwyn sang, her voice carrying across the water like a siren's call. Mesmerized by her ethereal presence, he couldn't help but feel a surge of emotions welling up inside him. It was as if time stood still, and he could feel the weight of the world lifting from his shoulders.

When the song ended, Gwyn turned to face him, her eyes shining with unspoken emotion. "For you," she whispered with a quiet laugh, offering him a fluorite crystal she found. She remembered reading about it a while back.

Azriel took it gently, his gaze never leaving hers. "Thank you," he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. "For everything." He hopped off from the stones to get closer.

Gwyn followed his every move. When nothing is being said, she gave him her assuring smile. “What is it, Shadowsinger? What’s on your mind?”

His eyes reflecting the moonlight as he reached out to touch her cheek. "I have never heard anything so ethereal," he whispered, his voice barely audible above the rustle of the leaves.

Gwyn smiled softly, her heart fluttering at his words. "And you have the soul of a poet," she replied, her fingers intertwining with his. In that moment, with the moon as their witness, they both knew that they had found something rare and precious in each other.

————————

Sorry i got carried away but here’s a little story i wrote for this art scene. It’s been awhile since i did something like this, so i apologize if it’s a little rusty pls be kind.😅

Hope you enjoy!

[oristian]

PARTY MONSTER / HIGH FOR THIS

SUMMARY — Azriel teaches Gwyn how to smoke on a dirty frat house couch. (17+ RATING)

NOTE — (Re-uploaded after I fully finished) This is my first fan-fiction I have ever written, so I am not fully certain on the etiquette. The idea was supposed to just be a small scene, less than one-thousand words, but I had such an urge to finish it out. Let me know if you all would like to see a part two, or to flesh it out into a full-length fic! You can also find this on Archive of Our Own

WC / TAGS — 3,713. Stoner Azriel, Good Girl Gwyn, Modern AU, College AU, Exhibitionism, Mentions of Drugs

Azriel sprawled widely on the velvet couch, his long legs spread to where their knees were almost brushing. The heat radiating from the closeness of their bodies sent pinpricks and shivers down her spine.

He watched her lazily from his peripheral as he raised the end of the blunt to his lips, inhaled for five counts, and removed the joint from his full, red mouth. His lips pursed momentarily and then he settled back against the couch, parting his mouth and releasing the smoke into the dimly lit room—his eyelids fluttered closed with the exhalation. Gwyn observed him with a bated breath, her hands clenched into tight fists against her lap, and a buzzing numbness at the back of her head.

Azriel dangled his left arm over the back of the couch and reclined further back, the movement sending the end of his semi-cropped shirt riding up the expanse of his abdominals. The muscles flexed under the drawn-out stretch—a single vein disappearing into the waistband of his tight black jeans—and Gwyn drew her focus away quickly, her cheeks dampening with heating.

“You wanna hit?”

Gwyn tensed, her knees knocking together and her copper-brown hair flying over one bared shoulder as she met his unwavering stare. His hazel eyes were tinged pink and his lids low over the irises, his long lashes casting shadows against his deeply tanned cheekbones. He slowly tiled his chin downwards to the hand he had offered towards her, the blunt pinched between his thumb and index finger.

Gwyn swallowed slowly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Does it … taste funny?” From her vantage point, the blunt appeared to be a spit-wet piece of thick paper with ashes dusting one end—the smell alone had her nose wrinkling. She raised a single eyebrow in question, but leaned forward nonetheless, driven by the curiosity of the whole situation.

Azriel’s lips quirked upwards into a leisurely smirk. He raised his hand upwards and a bit more closer to her, a chuckle resonating lowly in his throat. Gwyn traced the movement of his Adam’s apple as it bobbed with the noise, her lips parting slightly and a dry feeling in the back of her mouth.

“Only one way to find out, Princess.”

Gwyn quirked an eyebrow at the underlying challenge lacing his tone, the amusement lilting his words. The smoke clung to his breath, brushing over her skin, as he scooted closer to her, their knees fully touching. “Here,” Azriel mumbled as he helped her steady the blunt between her fingers—the areas in which his fingertips brushed sent jolts down her arm. “It’s gonna be a real bitch ‘ya first time.” Gwyn felt a bubbling, “And what says this is just my first time?” in her throat, but she pushed it back down; there was no reason to lie, given the racing speed of her heart and the pooling of heat under her freckled skin.

“Raise it up to your li—good girl,” he said with a sly grin. Gwyn placed the damp end of the blunt against her mouth, looking over at Azriel for both reassurance and next steps. He sat up and reached for the lighter sitting precariously on the edge of the acrylic coffee table. He flicked open the metal tip and placed the open end against the burnt side of the joint. “When I light this,” he said, his hazel eyes boring into her teal, “inhale for as long as you can. Tap my thigh if it gets to be too much—just don’t drop it. It’ll burn like hell.” He rubbed a scarred thumb against one of her pale thighs, the digit sliding just under the stretch of her leather miniskirt. Gwyn was acutely aware of any place his skin met her’s.

Azriel glanced upwards under his lashes and Gwyn nodded tersely, beginning a countdown from ten in her mind as he flicked the lighter and ignited the joint. Gwyn inhaled for a count of two before her throat spasmed and a cough built in her chest. She quickly pushed Azriel away from her and turned her neck, coughing deeply into the crook of her elbow. Her eyes watered and her ears buzzed as she hacked sideways for a few seconds, gasping for breath at the end of it all. Gwyn reclined back against the couch and inhaled deeply, wiping the remaining tears from her eyes. She felt a jerk beside her and glanced over at Azriel laughing into the palm of his hand, his shoulders moving with the effort. Gwyn sent a pointed glare his way and huffed as she crossed her arms around her torso. Azriel held up his hands in surrender.

“That was awful,” Gwyn grumbled, an embarrassing tinge pinkening her cheeks. Azriel rubbed his thumb over the head of the lighter, the blunt securely back between his fingers. After a breath he said, “I could help you. It would be easier than you trying it on your own.”

Gwyn sat upright as Azriel again scooted closer to her, their shoulders knocking together as he adjusted his weight on the sinking cushions. “I’ll take a hit,” he muttered slowly, raising a hand to move the stray strands of hair back from her face, “and all you have to do is sit pretty and open your mouth for me.” The lazy smirk pulled at his mouth once more and Gwyn felt her attention diverting to the swell of his bottom lip as it catches against his teeth. “Open my mouth?” She repeats as a whisper, as she leans ever so slightly into his bubble of space.

Azriel craned his neck to inhale from the blunt, then turned back to Gwyn. His lips were pressed together and his right hand slid under her jaw, turning her neck just the way he needed it—his fingers tangled in her long coppery hair. As he leaned inwards, Gwyn parted her lips, her eyelids fluttering closed, her hand reaching to brace against his broad shoulder.

His upper lip nudged hers, prying her mouth wider as he angled his head down. His scent of fresh cedar and burnt ash was intoxicating, grounding her more than the smoke ever could. The hand resting against the jut of her hipbone gingerly traced upwards, venturing under the hem of her shirt, his palm flattening on the lowermost part of her waist. His deft fingers traced the constellation of freckles that mapped the expanse of her back, a singe of fire following in his wake.

The hand gripping the back of her neck eased, traveling down the length of her arm and lifting her pliant wrist onto his muscular upper thigh. Azriel used his index finger to tap three times atop the back of her hand, as if to indicate for Gwyn to use his leg as leverage if it became too much for her. His hand returned again to the back of her neck, his thumb tracing small circles against the edge of her jawline.

His breath tasted like smoke and mint, his mouth moist from the charged mingling of the air between them. His lips pressed firmly against her own, the grip he had on her neck tensing as he pulled her closer into his body—so close that Gwyn could feel his heartbeat fluttering atop her own.

His mouth flattened against hers, and he languidly moved their lips together. Gwyn swallowed the smoke pooling in the back of her throat, a soft whine breaching up and through their kiss.

“M’gonna use my tongue,” Azriel mumbled against her mouth, his breath fanning over her swollen lips. Gwyn nodded slowly, her head spinning; she was not certain if it was from the high, or from being bracketed within his scorching embrace. True to his word, both of his scarred hands gripped either side of her jaw, angling her head up towards him, and his tongue gingerly entered into her mouth. He explored her slowly, tasting her, before he urged her to respond to his ministration.

Gwyn fisted the front of his shirt, her long nails dragging against the fabric. Azriel teased his hands down the length of his body—stopping every so often to rub his fingers over her exposed, overheated skin—until he gripped the back of her thighs and hoisted her up onto his lap. Gwyn yelped, the movement jolting their lips apart momentarily and she focused blearily on the man beneath her.

“You still with me, Princess?”

Her gaze was heavy and clouded, and a limitless sort of weightlessness settled from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. “Yeah,” she managed to mumble, though her tongue was weighed down in her mouth. The dryness in the bottom of her throat was steadily creeping upwards, and Gwyn instead leaned forward to capture his lips once more. Azriel hummed appreciatively at her forwardness, hands grabbing at her waist and pulling her flush against him. Her miniskirt raked up her thighs, the seams bunched and the fabric stretching as she was spread for him.

Something swelled underneath her and every brush of her against it had a low groan resonating in Azriel’s chest. His hazel eyes had darkened into dark, blown-wide pupils as he watched her atop him, his gaze steady and intense. His hands dropped from her waist to fist handfuls of her backside, grinding her down right where he needed her—moving her body effortlessly while his mouth claimed her from the inside out.

“Azriel,” Gwyn breathed as his lips trailed from her mouth, licking into the seam once more, and down the expanse of her neck, “someone is going to s-see.”

His teeth dragged against her skin, cresting upwards until they closed around her earlobe, tugging it into his mouth. “Let them,” he murmured, the warmth from his breath sending a cascade of goosebumps down her back and arms.

Gwyn settled her fingers atop his shoulders, the pale, freckled skin of her hands a stark contrast to the deep, sun-kissed wash of him. Her hands travelled up his neck, running along the black studs in his ears, and up into his tousled dark curls. Her fingers knotted in his hair and she positioned his head against her pulse point—his lips parted and his canine scratched against the spot where her neck met her ear.

“Please,” Gwyn rasped, arching her back, the swell of her breasts flush with his broad chest.

Azriel ground upwards against the center of her, every brush of connection sending prickles of pleasure jolting up her spine. His hips rolled languidly, his legs spread wide; his shirt had rolled further up his torso, his toned muscles flexing with each punctuated thrust against her.

He chuckled at her quiet gasps and the uneven drag of breath as his teeth continued to trail down her throat and back up to her jaw; he turned her head and kissed her jawline, biting softly into the skin. “You taste so good,” Azriel hummed against her ear, brushing her hair back as his lips connected once more with her neck. “So good, just for me. My good girl.”

Gwyn felt her mind steadily becoming assaulted by him—his hands as they held her, the thick of him as it pressed against her, his every word deepening as his tone grew heavier with his arousal, the soft curls under her fingers, him. His mouth had unleashed a wildfire deep within her gut, and every passing second fanned the heat, burning her with an overwhelming intensity. Gwyn felt as if she could erupt at any moment—her only tether being the grip of his fingers pressing her down atop him, and the zipper of his jeans cool against her inner thigh.

Azriel pulled his sinful mouth back from her neck, adjusting himself as he maneuvered upright. His hand resting on her lower back held Gwyn securely in his lap, his knees knocking her legs wider to fully straddle his waist. Gwyn glanced over her shoulder as he reached for the half-used blunt and lighter from where they perched on the edge of the table. Azriel settled back against the couch, the torn upholstery tickling his flesh, and tugged his lips into a lazy smirk. “Light it for me?”

Taking the blunt between his teeth, Azriel gripped her wrist and urged her fingers to unravel from its fist, placing the lighter atop her palm. His large hand encompassed hers, raising them up towards his face, and steadied the lighter under the burnt tip of the joint. Gwyn flicked the metal top open, then pressed down on the flat piece jutting out from the side. Azriel leaned forward, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. As he settled back, his eyelids rose slowly and a content grin formed on his lips as he exhaled.

Gwyn’s eyes tracked his tongue as it traced along his plump bottom lip, wetting it, then disappearing back into his mouth.

“Can I hit again?”

Azriel quirked a brow. Gwyn took her lower lip in between her teeth, biting down and then rolling it. “You sure, Princess?” The challenge was palpable in his tone, the amusement gleaming in his hazel eyes—testing her. With a slight huff and narrowed brows over her teal eyes, Gwyn reached for his arm and dragged his hand still holding the blunt to her mouth, pressing her lips firmly over the damp end of the joint.

“Don’t hurt yourself, baby. Careful.” Azriel reassuringly rubbed alongside her thigh, his knuckles brushing her skin tenderly. Gwyn counted backwards from five, inhaling deeply as the smoke filled her lungs. She pulled the blunt from her lips and held her mouth firm, relishing in the burnt itch at the back of her throat. “Yeah, just like that,” Azriel mumbled, his fingers dancing under the hitched hem of her skirt, tracing the edge of her panties, “you’re taking it so well.”

Gwyn felt her eyelids grow heavy as she parted her lips, the smoke fanning over Azriel’s face and disappearing into the shadows that danced above them. Her head lolled to the side, the effort to hold it upright suddenly too exerting. Azriel cradled a hand against the side of her face, rubbing his thumb along her cheek.

“You’re gone, baby,” Azriel chuckled lowly, brushing the copper hairs back from covering her face.

Gwyn eased into the hand on her face, reaching upwards to twine her fingers in between his. “No,” she giggled, scrunching her nose, “m’right here.” The silver rings stacked on his middle and ring fingers were a cold contrast to the warmth of his palm and she signed contentedly, nuzzling her face further into his careful hold.

Azriel felt something spark in his chest at the sight of the woman sitting atop his lap, the dopey grin pulling at her full, pink lips, but nudged the feeling further down deep inside of him. He bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it inside of his mouth, as he muttered, “Where are you right now, Princess?”

“In your arms.”

Gwyn carried their joined fingers down to her waist, placing his hand on the jut of skin between the clinch of her miniskirt and the hem of her blouse. Her hands returned to his shoulders, trailing downwards until they were firm against his pectorals; she could feel the poke of his hardened nipples under her palms. Using his chest as leverage, she experimentally rolled her hips lower against him. “On your lap,” she said as she lifted her hips and dropped them down, creating a steady rhythm of movement—his hand on her waist clenched and unclenched, dragging her body down tighter against him, grinding slow and dirty below her.

Brushing her hair back and over the cleft of her ear, she leaned down and pressed her mouth once more against his. Their lips moved as if some insatiable ravenousness possessed them—teeth nipping at skin, tongues caressing, dribbles of spit wetting their chins, and the same smoke and mint taste of him numbing her. Gwyn flicked her tongue upwards, stroking the roof of his mouth, and Azriel groaned soundly, the noise vibrating under her chest.

Her lips trailed from his mouth, down his angular jawline, and across the wide expanse of his neck. His skin tasted like leather and sweat, a tinge of something sweet and citrus just under the surface. Azriel’s pulse raced under the movement of her tongue, and she traced the tendon, relishing in the throbbing of it against her teeth. Gwyn nibbled on his flesh, spit-soaked red bite marks and smeared lipstick coloring his neck. He twitched under her and Gwyn reached a hand back behind her, her nails tracing the ridges of him under the tightness of his jeans, and held him in place as she ground down.

“Making you feel good.”

Gwyn carded her fingers through his hair, tugging gently, and brought her mouth to the shell of his ear, “Do you feel good?”

Azriel swept his nimble fingers from the cleft of her knee, rounding the uppermost portion of her leg, and trailing a careful wake of pinpricks and goosebumps along her inner thigh. “Fuck yes,” he rasped, the hand that had been resting against her waist snaking up into her hair, taking a fistful between his fingers, tugging her head back, exposing the line of her throat. Gwyn gasped wetly, eyes rolling back into her skull. “So good, baby.”

Gwyn felt every nerve rapt with searing wanton interest, the cascade of his hands on her body an unheard symphony ricocheting through her very center. Wrapping his hands around her middle, Azriel repositioned the weight of her body to straddle one of his muscular thighs, her sensitive core brushing against the denim of his jeans.

“Ride my thigh,” he instructed, spreading his legs wider to accommodate her.

Gwyn jutted forward, knocking her head backwards and shuddering at the rough sensation of his jeans and the delicious friction between her legs. She grinds and circles her hips down against him, her miniskirt hiking further up her thighs, a tight heat coiling low in her abdomen. “Yeah, baby,” Azriel groans, sliding his hands further up her inner thigh and slipping his thumb under the scalloped end of her panties, “take what you need, just like that.” Two of his long fingers slid over her closed center, rubbing slow circles against her tight bundle of nerves, and Gwyn’s hips stuttered at the pressure.

“Don’t stop,” she whined, gripping his corded forearm in both hands and holding him in place, canting her hips down and against his fingers, chasing a far-off release.

Gwyn slumps forward, resting her forehead against his and bites down on her bottom lip, worrying it between her teeth to quell the whimpers and moans that were building low in her throat. Her pulse thuds behind her ears, a deafening throbbing that pairs with the way in which her blood, her very being, sings for the man beneath her. She chases the need for pleasure, riding his fingers with a senseless sort of reckless abandon.

“Are you close, baby?” His breath fans over the side of her face, tickling the shell of her ear, blanketing her in the same potent smoke scent that circumscribes his very self. “Yes,” Gwyn sighs, her eyes glazed and unfocused, her breath ragged.

She digs her nails into his bicep as his pace hastens, his fingers unrelenting and oh so very talented as Azriel takes her to places she has only ever read about. She felt as if she was cresting a wave, the current drawing her back and forth against the hightide, and the storm threatening beneath the surface would pull her under, succumbing to her downfall. He would be her downfall, if she so allowed him to be. If she dared.

His mouth returned to her throat, lapping at the beads of sweat that trailed down her jaw and pooled in the crevice between her neck and shoulder. Azriel took his time in tasting her, savoring her, as if he was committing each freckle, each press of his lips against her skin to memory. He was deliberate in each place he so chose to leave the indentation of his teeth, marking her, claiming her. Each pass of his mouth unraveled her further, taking her apart piece-by-piece and constructing her anew all at once.

Azriel licks a line up the side of her neck and draws his mouth to her ear, “Come for me, baby.”

The tight coil in her gut untangles, snapping any sense of resolve that may have tethered her, the brewing storm beneath her skin erupting with a ferocity that was foreign to her. Gwyn heaves, whining, her hips grounding against his hand, her vision whitening and every nerve ending a static wave wherever their skin was flush. She was present, but somewhere else entirely at the same moment—her mind ever consumed by him.

Her head drops down to his shoulder, her body trembling and a budding soreness washing over her lower back, waist, and thighs. Azriel grips her chin and turns her face towards him, his hazel eyes boring into her own as he brings his hand to his mouth. His tongue rolls over each pad of his fingers, sucking on the digits—humming as he feasted on her residue, tasting her. “Delicious,” he mutters, as if a man starved. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Gwyn feels the length of him twitch against her knee and a sense of worry closes around her throat. She had been so insistent on her own pleasure that she had forgotten that he would also need the same sense of release. She made a move to ground her knee onto him, only for Azriel to lift her fully off of his lap and back onto the sunken couch cushion. Gwyn felt a pang of hurt resonate in her chest, constricting her, only for him to drape his leather jacket around her shoulders, pulling her back into his bubble of space once more. “S’okay,” he reassured, reaching behind to tug her copper hair out of the puffed collar and back behind her ears, tracing the pink that dusted the highest points of her cheekbones.

“Wanna get outta here, Princess?”

[lady-embers]

Gwyn and Azriel are taking a bath together with candles around them. Azriel is sitting behind Gwyn and begins to wash her hair. As he's doing this, Gwyn starts softly humming.

Azriel recognizes the melody and starts humming along with her. They eventually begin to softly sing out loud together as he finishes up washing and rinsing her hair. His shadows that were calm and content to lounge about start dancing around them as they hum and sing together.

Once Azriel is finished with Gwyn's hair, they finish soaking together as peace and the shadows settle around them once again.

[lib-arts]

🏎️ - Heart Racing

Gwyn and Az, modern¡au

fanart for anewritter - fanfic: heart racing

[daevastanner]

Hi. Reminder that canonically Azriel’s siphons flash and he stutters (for the first time in the whole series) when it’s mentioned Gwyn is in danger ✌️ — And this is his reaction when just a few months ago he didn’t consider Gwyn a friend 😏

[sunshinebingo]

Gwynriel - 600 words - Just fluff

Inspired by the picture used in the title card, and a conversation with some friends on discord. I wish I remembered who was in that discussion so I could tag them specifically. Sorry guys 🥺

"It was a beautiful mystery, she thought as she gazed at him, how some people came together as intuitively as the laws of nature. Were such people born already belonging to each other, or..."

Gwyn pauses. She lifts the hand that isn't holding her book to cover her mouth as a yawn break from her lips. She turns the page and continues to read aloud, her hand going back to playing with the silky hair of the male who is holding one of her legs hostage.

"...or was it some gods who, after much observation, placed them on the same path? She had never truly unders..."

Her voice starts to come out a little slurred. Her eyelids droop. The words on the page start to merge, the c blending into the e, the same e that looks no different from an a. She yawns again.

Gwyn picks up the blue ribbon she uses as a bookmark from her lap and places it in between the pages before closing the book.

Her arms rise above her head as she stretches her body to get rid of the stiffness that has settled in after hours of sitting on this couch.

Azriel grumbles. He hugs her left leg tighter, preventing Gwyn from straightening it properly. She huffs and brings both of her hands to his head to push him away. But all pretence of annoyance is erased from her face when she looks down at him.

Gwyn can't stop herself from smiling at the sight of one of the scariest looking and broodiest male that she has ever known holding onto her leg like a child would their comfort blanket. His large body is turned on his side with one of his feet dangling off the end of the couch. His bare chest rises and fall with each slow breath he takes. There is a slight furrow to his brows, no doubt from Gwyn having apparently so rudely dared to interrupt his sleep.

She brushes away the few curls of his obsidian hair that have fallen on his forehead. The sound that rumbles out of him when her nails gently scrapes along his scalp is akin to the purr of a contented cat. Gwyn's whole body shake from her giggle despite her attempt to stifle it. Azriel grumbles again and tightens his hold on her. Any tighter and he will cut off the blood circulation in this leg.

"Can I move?" she asks with a light tug on his hair.

"No," Azriel mumbles, his deep voice barely audible. "You're stuck with me."

He nuzzles his face against her leg. One of his hands glides higher and stops at the seam of her sleeping shorts where his thumb starts caressing her skin.

She shakes her head. Of course she is stuck with him. She smiles. But there is no one else she would rather be stuck with.

Very slowly so as not to awake the grumbling sleeping beauty, she slides herself lower on the couch until she is mostly lying down and she can place her head on the armrest. She adjusts the few cushions she can reach beneath her head and at her sides. Gwyn sighs when she finally manages to get somewhat comfortable.

Unable to properly kiss him goodnight, she kisses her own fingers instead and lightly slaps them on the small part of his face that isn't buried between her leg and the cushion beneath it.

She picks her book back up and opens it again, intent on reading incomprehensible words until they put her to sleep. Her other hand returns to its rightful place in Azriel's hair. Tomorrow she will need to find a way to remind him that he is also stuck with her. She hopes that eternity won't be too much for him.

[dawneternal]

Just a Favor | pt 6 | Gwynriel

✦ This one is short but the next one has smut so it evens out lol

✦ Warnings: vague talk of intimacy (discussing accepting the bond)

✦ Word Count: 1k

✦ AO3 Link

✦ Masterlist

Gwyn and Azriel made their way back to the House of Wind later that night. Between kisses and laughter and talking, far more time had passed than they had realized. Both were surrounded in a happy glow, oblivious to everything but the contented hum of the bond. They could not bear to separate just yet, settling into the private library at the House to talk to just a little longer.

All the while, Gwyn was planning her own moment. She was determined to sweep him away as he had done for her.

Azriel woke late the next morning, so late that training had ended a half hour before. At first, the only thing he could feel was that glimmering golden thread. He sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking in the bright sunlight.

That happiness faded a little as he caught sight of his shadows. They were restless, like they'd been up before him and waiting for him to wake. And one was missing.

He jumped up from the bed and quickly pulled on his clothes, running a hand through his bed-head to smooth it down. He grabbed a pair of boots, stuffed clean socks into them, and ran out of his room.

Nesta and Cassian lounged in the sitting room off of the kitchen. Their heads snapped up in tandem, eyes dragging over him.

“Have you seen Gwyn?” He asked, the words coming out in a rush. He did not know how to explain why he knew that Gwyn and the missing shadow would be in the same place. A gut feeling, he supposed.

“She left a while ago,” Nesta watched him with an expression he couldn't name, “I don't know where though.”

Azriel grimaced and turned on his heel in the direction of the balcony.

“See you in a while, brother,” Cassian chuckled. And then grumbled when Nesta elbowed him.

Azriel ignored them both, tugging on his socks and boots, knotting the laces as quickly as he could. His shadows buzzed with energy.

Take me to her. He pleaded. He couldn't tell if they were worried or excited, another unusual thing. He could always read them well.

Priestess. Valkyrie. Love. Was their response.

The shadows carried him toward the mountains. He found himself standing on the edge of a green meadow, shrouded in mist. The sky overhead was filled with deep grey clouds, threatening to overflow at any moment.

And there was Gwyn, standing beside a picnic blanket, draped in a gauzy white dress with flowers in her hair. She smiled at him, her teal eyes and copper hair so bright against the green and grey around her. The missing shadow swirled around her body.

Relief filled Azriel's being, the rest of his shadows dancing to meet her and their lost friend. She was alright.

“What is this?” He asked, a smile spreading as he walked toward her. A large picnic basket sat in the grass beside the blanket. Thunder rumbled in the distance but he barely heard it.

“They found you,” Gwyn grinned, clasping her hands together. She looked so beautiful like this, the flowy dress hugging her curves and fluttering around her shoulders and ankles. The flowers tucked into her braids matched the ones dotted through the meadow.

“I have no idea why one of my shadows decided to leave and pester you,” He shook his head, resisting the urge to reach out and pull her close. To feel her form beneath his hands.

“Oh, I called it,” She said, eyes gleaming as she tilted her head to the side, “I needed help with my surprise.”

Azriel stared at her in awe. It hardly seemed possible, and yet….Gwyn was full of surprises. Gentle scattered raindrops began to fall around them.

“I didn't think it would rain,” She wrinkled her nose, “The clouds gathered so fast. We may have to rethink the location.”

“What's the surprise?” Azriel swallowed hard, looking down at the picnic basket. Dare he hope?

“I made food,” She said softly, suddenly shy, “I asked Cassian what kinds of foods they cook for each other in the camps and he said sourdough bread was one of them. So I made sourdough bread.”

She gestured toward the basket. Azriel could not help the thing stirring in his stomach.

“But…” He started, his voice low and gravelly, “The bond…if I eat it, then-”

“I know,” Gwyn blushed and took a step toward him, fiddling with her dress, “I realized that I am ready. If it was anyone else, maybe not. But since it's you….”

She locked eyes with him, shy and searching. His gaze was full of desire, admiration, and disbelief that she was his. The rain was becoming more steady, now, making the fabric of her dress see through and revealing the freckled skin underneath. Azriel did not think he minded the rain so much.

“But I…” He said, cursing his brain for being overcome by the shape of her body in that dress, “And you-”

“Azriel,” Gwyn cut him off, “I packed a bag.”

“You…packed a bag?” He repeated. He noticed for the first time the backpack sitting beside the picnic basket. How observant he was, today.

“Yes,” She chuckled, “With clothes and tonic. And Rhysand told Clotho I will be gone. I made you food and I packed a bag.”

Azriel took a shaky breath and brought his hands to rest on her waist. She tossed her arms around his neck and smiled up at him with rosy cheeks.

“So whisk me away, shadowsinger,” She whispered, leaning in so close that her lips nearly brushed his.

“Where to, Valkyrie?” He said, “There's a few options.”

“I will not honeymoon in the House of Wind and subject myself to that teasing,” She pursed her lips, eyes twinkling. The raindrops fell heavier, a few sparkling in her hair like dew drops.

“Then there's my apartment in Velaris, or the cabin in the mountains,” He was not particularly fond of the idea of Nesta and Cassian meddling with things.

“I am very intrigued by your secret apartment, but the cabin sounds farthest away from prying eyes. And if we don't get out of the rain soon, my bread will be ruined.”

“Cabin it is,” Azriel reluctantly let her go and tossed her backpack over his shoulder. She gathered the blanket and basket in her arms and tucked her hand into his.

She gave him one more wide grin before they winnowed, and Azriel's heart was so full it ached.

[kimstclair]

Game Night

Game night was in full swing, and the tension was palpable.

“C’mon, Amren, don't be a killjoy,” Cassian taunted, leaning back in his chair with a playful smirk.

Amren poured herself another glass of wine and dismissed him for the third time. “These games are bad for my nerves.”

“You know what?” Cassian insisted, grinning mischievously. “Let’s make a bet! If I win, you have to play two more rounds. If you win, I promise to make sure Rhys will take one more thought at the High King thing.”

Amren clicked her tongue with a smirk. “When Rhysand actually becomes High King, I promise I'll play as many stupid card games as you want.”

“Forget it, Cass, she’s already too old to enjoy life,” Rhysand teased. But before Amren could snap back, Feyre spoke up, stretching her arms out with a yawn.

“You can play, I'm kinda tired.”

“Oh no, darling,” Rhysand interrupted with a sly grin, “you were the one who wanted to play in the first place. I'm sitting this out.”

“Actually,” Azriel cleared his throat, “I have some reports to finish. You all go ahead.”

“For Mother’s sake,” Nesta said aloud, rolling her eyes. “You’re all so dramatic.”

She pushed her chair back and headed toward the door arc. “Where are you going, hon?” Cassian called after her.

“I’ll be back soon,” Nesta replied, already walking down the hallway.

–

Gwyn was engrossed in a new novel Emerie had lent her when Deirdre tapped her shoulder. “Clotho asked me to give you this.”

She handed over a note: You have a visitor.

Gwyn had two guesses as to who it might be, but refused to admit one of them made her heart skip a beat. She slipped out of her nightgown, threw on a casual robe, and headed toward the library.

Visitors weren’t allowed in the priestesses’ dormitory, so it wasn’t surprising to find Nesta waiting for her by Clotho’s desk, clad in an elegant dress.

“Is everything okay?” Gwyn asked.

Nesta’s face lit with a mischievous glint. “How good are you at cards?”

–

Back in the game room, the first round was underway.

“I swear!” Cassian shouted. “I felt Rhys inside my mind.”

Rhysand rolled his eyes. “Cassian, that’s not a thing. You can’t feel when I’m using my daemati powers.”

“So you admit you used them!” Cassian snapped, looking triumphant.

“Let’s just start over,” Feyre suggested, barely holding back a laugh.

Azriel was holding his cards quietly, but Gwyn noted the faintest smile on his lips. She also noticed a card poking out of the collar of Rhysand’s robes and Cassian’s cards sprawled across the table, likely tossed in a fit of rage.

“That’s why I don’t play,” a small, black-haired female Gwyn recognized as Amren said, looking directly at her and sipping her wine.

Everyone at the table turned to look at Gwyn and Nesta standing by the doorway. Feyre greeted them with a warm smile.

"Just found the missing player for our game," Nesta announced proudly.

“Good to see you, Gwyneth,” Rhysand greeted with a smile.

“Good evening, High Lord,” Gwyn replied with a respectful bow.

“Please, call me Rhysand,” he grinned, his gaze twinkling with amusement. “Especially if we’re about to be rivals in a… intense match.”

–

Cassian, clearly frustrated, turned to Rhysand and Feyre. "You two can't be a team anymore; you're always communicating telepathically!"

Rhysand merely smiled. "Are we just too good for you, Cass?"

“Stop stalling, Rhys. Everyone here knows you and Feyre have an unfair advantage,” Cassian grumbled, crossing his arms.

Nesta, arms crossed and expression calculating, saw her chance. “Alright. Gwyn and I could pair up, and you four can rearrange yourselves.”

But after a pause, she reconsidered. “Actually… I don’t trust Azriel with any daemati,” she added, casting a look at Azriel, who merely raised an eyebrow in response. “He’ll do whatever it takes to win.”

Cassian laughed, then had an idea. “Fine, then let’s try this: Nesta and I split to join Rhys and Feyre. That way, we’ll keep them in check.”

Azriel sighed, his calm tone laced with faint exasperation. “Not that I have an issue with the pairing,” he said, his gaze sweeping the table, “but that arrangement would leave Gwyn and me at a disadvantage.”

Rhysand smirked. “Oh, don’t worry, Azriel. I promise I won’t be using… my shadows this time.”

Azriel’s expression didn’t shift, but there was a glimmer in his eyes. He glanced Gwyn’s way, eyebrow raised, daring her to react. She suppressed a smile, feeling the camaraderie—and something else, a subtle tension that she preferred not to examine too closely.

“I think they’re just scared, Gwyn,” Azriel murmured, his tone light yet challenging. “Looks like we’ll have to show them how it’s done.”

Gwyn raised an eyebrow, playing along. “Well, if you think you can handle it, Shadowsinger… I’m in.”

Cassian patted Rhysand’s back. “Looks like we’ve got a match! Let’s see if the shadow-and-singer duo can really take us on.”

Rhysand merely shrugged. “May the best team win.”

“Alright, you two can pair up, and I’ll take Nesta,” Feyre suggested. “Everyone take seats opposite your partners—no one sits next to their teammate.”

As they shuffled places, Azriel passed by Gwyn and leaned close. “Rhys and Feyre will try to read your mind, so keep it focused. And watch out for Cassian; he pretends to get more wine just to peek over at people’s cards.”

Gwyn only had time to nod as everyone settled in.

–

The game quickly spiraled into chaos. Cassian barely made it through the first hand before he got up to refill his wine. Gwyn recalled Azriel’s advice and turned her cards down as Cassian passed.

Rhysand eyed Feyre with suspicion. “You’re not cheating, are you, darling?”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “Me? Rhys, I’m hurt you’d even suggest that.”

Amren scoffed. “As if she needs to cheat to beat you.”

Nesta leaned toward Cassian, whispering, “Azriel’s plotting something. I’ll bet a bottle of wine on it.”

“Deal,” Cassian replied, grinning.

Not even halfway through the game, Rhysand suggested a pause. Everyone agreed readily.

“You know, Cassian, considering how many times you’ve refilled your glass tonight, I’d say you’ve had your breaks,” Azriel noted.

“If we’re talking suspicious behavior,” Nesta chimed in, “we could mention the shadows swirling around Azriel’s ears all night.”

Azriel didn’t flinch, though his expression sharpened with determination. Gwyn had seen that same look on his face in training—a readiness to do whatever it took to win. Across the table, Gwyn noticed the glances Rhysand and Feyre were exchanging. She leaned toward Azriel, whispering, “They’re in cahoots.”

Azriel nodded, his voice low and amused. “Who isn’t?”

Gwyn did notice the shadows slipping around her neck, weaving through her hair and peeking at her cards as the game progressed. It was as if Azriel always knew her move before she even played her card, his shadows acting like an extension of her thoughts.

“Feyre and Nesta have a tell,” she whispered to Azriel, leaning subtly toward him. “Whenever they’re holding a bad hand, Feyre always scratches her eyebrow.”

Azriel regarded her with sharp eyes, a faint glint of approval there. “Observant,” he murmured, taking a sip of his whiskey. “And nice work sneaking a look at Cassian’s cards.”

Gwyn flushed, but she couldn’t help a proud smile. It was true; whenever Cassian was too busy gazing at Nesta to notice anything else around him, she took the opportunity to steal a glance at his hand. It was almost too easy sometimes. She hadn’t known that Azriel had picked up on her tactic until now.

“Alright, back to business!” Nesta called, dealing another round.

Apparently, the other pairs had also used the break to regroup and adjust their strategies. Gwyn noticed it was much harder to get a peek at Cassian’s cards now, and Feyre had changed her signal—she now wrapped a lock of hair around her finger, subtly.

Azriel’s shadows were more elusive now, but she could still feel their presence, curling around her, discreetly hidden by her hair and cloak. She also noticed how the shadows played across Azriel himself, moving slowly over his arms, mingling with the tattoos on his biceps.

Gwyn refused to admit how well she knew the details of those tattoos, practically by heart. She tried to justify it as just the result of their countless training sessions together. Surely, she had to pay attention to her trainer’s movements, didn’t she?

Before she could refocus on the game, Gwyn caught Feyre watching her—and suddenly realized with horror that Feyre was reading her thoughts. Specifically, the thoughts about Azriel’s biceps: those sculpted muscles she had definitely admired a little too closely.

Their eyes met, and Gwyn’s went wide. Feyre quickly turned her attention back to her cards, clearly holding back a grin.

But Gwyn had no time to be embarrassed, as she felt Azriel’s gaze settle on her, waiting for her next move. He tilted his head, his dark eyes intense. “Gwyn?” he asked, as if urging her to return her attention to the game.

Taking a steadying breath, she forced herself to look away from his arms, holding her cards ready to play.

From across the table, Amren smirked as she observed the scene. “You really think this game has anything to do with the cards, don’t you? Poor fools.”

“Oh, absolutely, Amren,” Feyre chimed in, playing along. “Everyone here is being perfectly honest.”

Nesta shrugged, giving an ironic smile. “If we were cheating, Cassian would have noticed. Isn’t that right?”

Cassian huffed. “Sure, because it’s so hard to see through your schemes.”

Nesta arched an eyebrow. “If you played half as well as you talked, Cassian, maybe you’d stand a chance.”

“You know I’m excellent at playing and talking at the same time, Nes,” Cassian retorted with a wicked grin, making his wife blush furiously.

To Gwyn’s surprise, she found herself laughing along with the others. The playful teasing between Cassian and Nesta didn’t make her feel out of place at all.

–

Several rounds later, Cassian threw his cards down, visibly frustrated. “Alright, it’s a tie. We need a tiebreaker.”

Feyre, a little tipsy, leaned toward him with a glint of mischief. “How about something more… physical?” She glanced at Rhysand, a grin spreading on her face. “Like… hide and seek?”

Amren scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Oh, perfect. You just forgot your one year old son is sleeping right now. You don't need to play his games.”

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” Azriel said.

“Of course not,” Cassian laughed. “You can melt into shadows.”

Gwyn, feeling more comfortable in the playful atmosphere, smirked. “Look, Azriel and I have been up against teams with telepathic powers all night without complaining. I think we can handle a little hide and seek.”

“Oh?” Cassian leaned forward, intrigued. “What’s your proposal, Miss Berdara?”

Gwyn smiled, her confidence unwavering. “Azriel and I will be seekers. If we find all of you within half an hour, we win. If anyone evades us, they win for their team.”

Everyone exchanged approving glances. Ignoring Amren’s disdainful mutter, the rest of them quickly warmed to the idea.

“That’s it for me. If you want to keep playing, so be it. But I’d rather head home,” Amren announced, rising to her feet.

“I’ll take Amren home, and when I’m back, Gwyn and I will start hunting for all of you,” Azriel offered, glancing at Gwyn with a hint of a smile.

–

Gwyn waited for Azriel on the balcony, her eyes tracing the city below. She admired the beauty of Velaris under the moonlight, feeling a pang of longing. She’d thought of visiting for the first time for a while now, and seeing it like this only strengthened that desire.

She was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she only noticed Azriel’s presence when he landed softly beside her, making her jump. Azriel didn’t react much, though his lips twitched into a faint smirk as he stepped closer. “Ready to hunt?” he murmured, his voice low and almost playful.

She straightened, trying to look composed despite the sudden flutter in her pulse. “I think it’s better if we stick together,” she replied, her tone even, though her mind was anything but calm.

And so the game began. As they entered the house, Gwyn and Azriel noticed that most of the corridors were cast in deep shadow, with only a few torches flickering here and there, creating an atmosphere of anticipation. Gwyn decided to light a candle and carry it as they moved.

Azriel raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk on his lips. “Afraid of the dark?”

Gwyn laughed softly, holding the candle steady. “Not at all, Shadowsinger. But if we want to win this game, it might help if we don’t trip over our own feet.”

Moving like shadows, Gwyn and Azriel searched together, silent and in sync. As they crept through the hallways, Gwyn became acutely aware of the closeness between them—of Azriel’s steady, focused presence beside her.

Then, for a brief moment, they found themselves alone in a dim, quiet corridor. Azriel’s gaze lingered on her, deep and unreadable, and Gwyn’s heart raced as she met his eyes. There was a gravity in his look, something she couldn’t quite place, and she felt her own heartbeat quicken in response. But noises coming from upstairs got their attention and they headed towards it.

Finding Cassian and Feyre was almost too easily. Cassian’s attempts at stealth were practically nonexistent, and Feyre, slightly tipsy, clearly wasn’t taking the game seriously. They were both hiding in plain sight, sharing a quiet laugh in a poorly chosen corner. As soon as they were caught, Cassian shrugged with a laugh, slinging an arm around Feyre’s shoulders. “Guess it’s time for more wine,” he announced, leading her out of their hiding spot as they playfully bickered over whose hiding place had been worse.

Gwyn and Azriel moved on, stepping deeper into the house. Their path led them to Nesta’s personal library, where Azriel paused by the door. He glanced at the candle in Gwyn’s hand, then reached out to gently extinguish it.

“It’ll give us away,” he murmured, his voice low, his breath warm against her ear.

She shivered, barely managing a nod. “Good idea.”

Azriel leaned in close to her, his voice a whisper. “Let’s split up. You take the left side of the shelves. I’ll go right.”

–

As Azriel moved down his chosen aisle, he was impressed at how quiet Gwyn was, her footsteps nearly as silent as his own. His shadows flitted through the shelves, scanning for any sign of Nesta, though they hadn’t yet detected her presence. The only light in the library was the silvery glow of moonlight streaming in through a tall window at the end of the aisle, casting soft shadows that mingled with his own.

Azriel was nearing the end of the aisle when, suddenly, something crashed into his torso, and he stumbled back, landing on the floor with a muffled thud.

“Got you!” Gwyn’s triumphant whisper filled the silence.

“Gwyn?” Azriel murmured, surprised. She was perched on top of him, her hands wrapped around his torso. In the dim light, he could just make out her silhouette, her eyes reflecting the faintest hint of moonlight.

“I... I thought you were Nesta,” she breathed, her face mere inches from his.

“That’s alright,” he replied, his voice dropping to a soft whisper. He realized his hands had instinctively found their way to her waist when they fell—and he hadn’t moved them since. Neither had she.

They stared at each other in the dim glow, their breaths mingling in the quiet. But then, a movement broke the spell—a shadow darting toward the door.

“Nesta!” Gwyn leaped off him, sprinting toward the door just in time to block it as Nesta tried to slip through.

Nesta was slightly out of breath. “Alright, you got me. Mother above, Gwyn, you’re fast!”

–

“Looks like we’re winning,” Gwyn murmured, a hint of excitement in her voice.

Azriel held her gaze, and she felt that same magnetic pull she’d been fighting all evening. “Never celebrate victory too early. We’ll just have to keep playing to see who comes out on top.”

Gwyn pushed away the thought that she’d, in fact, been on top of him only moments ago. She could still feel the ghost of his hands on her waist. But whether his words held hidden meaning, or if she was just reading too much into things… she honestly couldn’t tell.

–

“We’ve combed through this whole house!” Gwyn called out, finally abandoning all pretense of stealth.

Azriel leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he considered. “Rhysand wouldn’t hide somewhere obvious,” he said thoughtfully. “And he’d pick a place that’s clever, just to draw it out. He enjoys making people work for it.”

“What about the training ring?” she suggested. “Technically, it’s within the property, if we’re going by the rules literally.”

Azriel’s brows lifted in appreciation. “Good thinking.” They quickly made their way to the ring, but when they arrived, it was empty.

Gwyn let out a sigh, half frustration, half laughter. “Well, that was a waste.”

“Not entirely,” Azriel reassured, his lips curling. “It was a solid guess, Berdara.”

She studied him for a moment, then seemed to have an idea, her face lighting up with renewed energy. “Do you trust me?”

He blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Yes.”

Without another word, she took his hand and pulled him along, sprinting through the house. As they ran, he pieced together where she was leading him: the balcony, where the game had started. It was exactly the sort of place Rhysand would find amusing.

They reached the balcony, but it, too, was empty.

Gwyn glanced at Azriel, cheeks flushed from their dash. “I’m sorry. I thought he’d be here as a kind of ‘full circle’ thing.”

“Don’t apologize,” Azriel said, his tone reassuring, though his eyes sparkled with faint amusement. “It was a good guess. Classic Rhysand—he’d totally…” He trailed off, then stepped forward, glancing over the balcony railing.

“Rhysand, you ridiculous bat, get up here!” Azriel shouted, shaking his head.

Gwyn heard a soft chuckle from below just before the High Lord soared up from beneath the balcony, laughter in his eyes as he landed.

–

Cassian was practically doubled over with laughter. “I can’t believe you hung upside down like a bat for half an hour.”

“Almost half an hour,” Azriel corrected, glancing at Gwyn. “We found him first. In fact, we found all of you before time ran out.”

“You two make a good team,” Feyre remarked casually, though the glance she sent Gwyn’s way hinted at her true thoughts.

“Well-deserved win,” Rhysand congratulated them. “Though, now it seems like you and Gwyn should face off for first place.”

“Oh, please, don’t start!” Nesta interjected. “Those two will be at it all night if we let them.”

“You’re right, Nes,” Cassian said, pulling her close with an arm around her waist. “Let’s save the grand finale for another night.”

Feyre and Rhys said their goodbyes before winnowing to the River House, and Nesta and Cassian prepared to return to their chambers.

“Thanks for inviting me,” Gwyn said, smiling.

“Oh, hon, you're welcome here anytime,” Nesta replied easily.

“Especially if you're about to beat Azriel’s ass in the next game night,” Cassian joked.

Azriel crossed his arms. “Don’t give her too much hope. Berdara might start thinking she actually stands a chance.”

“As if I’d ever back down from you, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn shot back, matching his tone.

“Save some of that teasing for morning training, you two,” Cassian muttered with a grin as he and Nesta left for their quarters, leaving Gwyn and Azriel standing side by side in the warm, quiet aftermath of the evening.

Azriel offered to escort Gwyn back to the library, and they started down the path together. The silence between them was comfortable but charged with a tension that seemed to grow with each step.

“It’s nice to see you all together like this,” Gwyn said, breaking the silence. “Do you do this often?”

Azriel took a moment to answer. “We used to, before... you know, Amarantha.”

Gwyn nodded, understanding. There was a beat of quiet before she spoke again. “About what happened in the library…” Azriel turned to look at her. “Sorry for, uh… tackling you.”

"That’s alright," Azriel replied simply. Gwyn thought she saw a small tremor at his lips, as if he was on the verge of saying something more, but instead, he simply continued walking beside her, steady and silent.

They reached the entrance to the library, which was now dark and empty, the other priestesses already asleep.

“Well, thank you, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel nodded, his gaze lingering for a second longer. “See you tomorrow, Berdara.”

[bearbluebooks]

Below Deck: Prythian Commission

Captain Azriel and chief stew Gwyn. I commissioned this beautiful piece by @sophielouisedraws (find her on instagram) for my fan fiction Below Deck: Prythian. She is such an extremely talented and incredibly kind artist.

Repost allowed after two days (19/10/2023) with credit to the artist and permission by me.

I’m obsessed with the reality tv show and who doesn’t want captain Azriel in their life?

Read if you like: age gap, enemies to lovers, forbidden romance, forced proximity, second chance romance.

✨excerpt from chapter three:

Two scarred hands held her tight.

Wind softly blew through Azriel’s obsidian strands and Gwyn couldn’t help herself, as her hands moved to join the wind.

Time seemed to still as their eyes found each other.

Breaking the silence, Azriel declared “I’m here now.

And somehow those words were missing in her soul.

I’m here now.

A breath of connection swept throughout her body, cleansing everything that was, to make space for all that was meant to be.

Him and her.

A smile as big as the setting sun illuminated her face.

Home.

[thevalkyriesshadow]

I wrote this today for the country!gwynriel fic and I just had to share this little snippet 🤭

“I'm driving you home.” “I don't need your help. I drove here -” “Yes, you drove here sober, but now you're drunk. Either you walk yourself to my truck, or I’m carrying you. What's it gunna be?” His keys jingled in one hand as he held his other hand out for her to take. She looked at him, her mouth agape, and said, “You can't make me – ah! Azriel! Put me down!” In one quick swoop, Azriel had picked Gwyn up, threw her over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, and began making his way to the door. He called out to someone. Telling them to have a good night as if he wasn't hauling her like a child to the exit.