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gotta-spew-words-somewhere · 3 months ago

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Countdown: 9

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Summary: Azriel is a simp in denial

TW’s: None, minor suggestiveness, I guess not really having any plot yet could count??

A/N: omg I really didn’t expect this silly story to get nearly as many notes you’re all angels and I’d kill and die for you all!!!!

Also- I promise plot is coming (and the end of this is weird but I didn’t wanna write out like 4 hours of back and forth lol)

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Reader POV

The little friend you’ve made dances between your fingers, tickling the skin with not-quite kisses that make you snort as you stir a spoonful of cumin into your tea.

Heartburn has bothered you from bed, but not from sleep- it doesn’t come as easy as it once did, not since the rumblings of war on the horizon have reached you.

But the little shadow now twisting through your hair helps you focus, helps you forget. At this point, you’re almost sure it knows what a simple relief the company can be in the small hours, the way it dances and plays when your heart feels most heavy.

And, for the second time in as many weeks, burning. Very odd.

You take a deep drink from your cup, savouring the earthy flavour and willing away the discomfort that pulls at your ribs.

The gift from the Illyrian, however, seems far less interested in quiet contemplation than you, changing course and whipping across your counters and walls in a frenzy. The fine hairs at the back of your neck rise to attention, and without thought, you follow the flittering wisp into your shop front, and then to the door.

“What is it? What are you trying to show me?” You’re probably crazy, talking to a shadow, and yet its movements grow more urgent— circling your ankles and then back to the door. It could seep through the cracks— you know this, you’ve seen it in action— but doesn’t. It wants you to open it.

But, you don’t get chance. It swings open itself despite definitely being locked, the little bell eery in the dark. Blinking at the man once again stood uncertainly in your home after hours, you offer a raised eyebrow and a nerve-settling sigh.

“Have you come to pick up your friend?”

——————————

Azriel POV

In the two weeks since he last saw you, Azriel has had little peace. By their own accord (and eventually against explicit instruction), the shadows he usually relies on for state secrets and cautious murmurs have become quite the problem.

Little gossips, he’d called them— rushing to his ear with updates of where you’ve been and how you are. Whether you’ve slept or whether you’ve padded downstairs to drink tea amongst the rubies and diamonds.

It’s odd, but not unheard of. Azriel’s companions had developed this habit before; sneaking away in the dead of night to trail in Mor’s footsteps like lovesick little puppies, updating him of her every move. What makes this so different, so unnerving is the speed in which they chose you— he’s been in your presence for what, 15 minutes total? And yet they’ve abandoned centuries of unrequited affection in favour of your tea and snark in a heartbeat.

Tonight had been more of the same— awake, awake. Sad. Awake. And it was absolutely none of his business, as he’d told them, but the whispers had grown urgent, and he could no longer tell if they were speaking of you or himself.

And so, with no small amount of denial, he’d decided to simply wander by. Another beautiful, sleepless night in the city he loves- why shouldn’t he pass through the cobbled street where your shop windows glimmer in the starlight? What harm could it do?

Then he’d heard your voice- quiet and concerned and muffled by stone and glass, and he hadn’t fought the urging of his shadows to just. Pop in. Check that everything is okay.

But just like the first night, it seems like you’re expecting him.

“Have you come to pick up your friend?”

Azriel’s own hands wave to awaken the fae-lights, and his eyes settle on you with light confusion. You’re in your sleep clothes- a large shirt this time, although your hair seems tamed and your stance a little less steady.

No sleep at all, tonight then.

“My friend?” His voice comes out rough from lack of use, a line forming on his brow. His only friends are asleep in the house of wind, as far as he knows, but he’s discovered Cassian snoring I n enough unlikely places to not completely write it off.

Instead of answering, you raise your hand, and he catches the tail of a flicker of dusk racing to hide from his sight on your palm.

“Go on— go to your, uh, Dad?” Your voice takes the tone of a mother soothing a small child, and he realises with a jolt that you’re speaking to one of his shadows like that, smiling softly at the darkness that sends most running.

He hopes you can’t hear how fast his heart beats.

“Are you their Dad? Or is it more of a pet-owner type of situation?” You turn your wrist, trying and failing to encourage the little traitor that still hides from its masters sight, before offering him a crooked smile. “I think this one likes me.”

“You’d be correct. I’ve never seen one do that before.” He side-steps the question- more because he’s not too sure himself, before outstretching his own palm and silently willing the little shadow to return home. It does, but your eyes follow the movement to his hand and the sort of shame he hasn’t felt in decades fucking burns through his veins.

You didn’t notice the scars before, he’s certain. There were no lingering glances or wrinkled noses, no prying questions. And he’s not sure why it matters- you’re some crazy fae who drinks too much tea and sleeps almost less than him—- but it doesn’t stop the itch under his skin as your eyes linger for half a beat.

But then they move up, trailing his wrist in a slow drag, finally settling on his shoulder, and just for a brief second, he swears your eyes turn sad.

You’ve been following the shadow. Watching it crawl back to him with the sluggish pace of a scolded child, and you’d looked sad as it left.

Stay. Want to stay with her. Sad. Alone. Stay Stay Stay.

He barely has a moment to process this— his shadow outright choosing another?— before you’re once again smiling and trying to usher him further inside.

“So the little thing decided to stick around all by himself?” The warmth in your voice is nearly enough to distract him from the way you’ve walked around— a careful distance from his wings— and shut the door with a gentle tinkle of a bell that wasn’t there before. “Tell him I enjoyed his stay, will you?”

And frankly, Azriel is drawing a blank between the incessant pleading at his ear and the way he has somehow, once again, ended up at the cluttered table.

“Do you want another tea? I just made a batch for heartburn but I can whip up some calming mix if you give me a few minutes?”

He ducks his head, fighting the strange and sudden urge to fuss at her—- and tell her he’s been suffering the same of late. A fresh side effect of too many thoughts and not enough rest.

“The-uh, heartburn one would be lovely, thank you.”

You offer a raised eyebrow and a nod, before again slipping out of view, night shirt swishing with the sway of your hips.

He drags his eyes away from your retreating form with purpose, swatting at the dark curl of shade by his ear that will not stop murmuring about how pretty you are.

Of course, he agrees, but the embarrassment of how something as simple as a bare shoulder effected him last time still heats his ears.

Get it together.

——————————————

Reader POV

Cauldron’s tits, he’s sexy.

You stir the steaming water into his cup slower than necessary, using this moment of separation to will your uncooperative body to relax.

Something about that unruly hair and quiet, uneven smile is enough to send you into the kind of tizzy that you’ve not experienced since adolescence. It’s bordering on pathetic, really- and yet the slight spring in your step lingers as you make your way back to him.

“There,” you mutter, pushing the cup along the well-worn wooden table surface toward him, grin splitting across your face as your little friend practically leaps from his shoulder to tangle at your fingers. “Hey, buddy.”

Azriel’s eyes are on you, you’re sure, but you focus on the shadow as you take your seat. “Am I a shadow-singer now too? Just with a really small hoard?”

The smile in his voice drags your eyes up.

“I don’t think that’s how it works.” Mother, he’s beautiful—- but tired again. Hazel eyes are dulled by a ring of dark, and although his expression seems content, the lingering exhaustion is so plain to see.

Your heartburn pulls, and so you take a sip of your tea.

“So it won’t whisper to me?”

He does this half-snort that you remember from last time, and you’re no longer in control of your smile. “Not unless I ask it to.”

Now, that’s intriguing. Your eyebrow raises in challenge, and you try your best to ignore the way his eyes flicker to the curve of your lips—- I must have tea leaves in my teeth— before nodding. A silent agreement, even if he offers a put-upon sigh.

A glance from the man across from you, and your little friend curls it’s way up your arm, wiggling with giddy intent. You feel it settle at your ear, the cold-kiss of its touch forcing you to fight a shiver.

Pretty.

It’s not quite a word—- not quite spoken. But somehow, you know beyond a doubt that is its tiny message, and your eyes lock with Azriel’s.

“Pretty?”

“What?” He sits straighter, brow furrowing and now glaring at the curl of dark at your shoulder.

The laugh escapes you before you have chance to reign it in— a rough bark of noise, startled by the change in his demeanour and pink tint of his ears. “Is that not what it said? I could’ve sworn—“

“It’s not what I told it to say,” and now his voice edges on a grumble, pink spreading to the apple of his cheeks, and your grin has never been wider.

“Can’t control your shadows, eh?”

“That one does seem determined to embarrass me.” He offers the offending creature— is it a creature?— a final warning look, before rolling his eyes. “It was only meant to say hello.”

“I guess my feminine wiles are enough to win over even darkness itself.” It’s meant as a joke, but the intensity in Azriel’s eyes makes your own cheeks begin to colour, and so you clear your throat and quickly switch gears. “So, why are you back again? See an emerald you couldn’t stop thinking about?”

And… he tells you. How he couldn’t sleep, and how the shadows whisper your name and now he knows why—‘little traitor’—, and you tease and try so hard to drag that little not-quite-snort out of him.

It’s good and it’s warm and it’s not quite so lonely, being awake in the dead of night when the man who controls the darkness itself can join you in the dim light of your home. Light that gets brighter and clearer long after your cups are empty and the streets start to stir; dawn is here, and you almost resent it.

“I better go.” His voice is soft with reluctance which curls warmly in your chest, and you offer him a gentle nod as he moves to the door.

“Bye, Shadowsinger.”

And your little friend pools in the dip of your collar bone, in sight but not called away, even as his master slips out into the morning rays.

#part two baybeee!!!#thank u all sm for the notes ur all v v good to me #I hope the difference between az (serious inside thoughts) and reader (more conversational) is clear #ANYWAY #countdown #azriel x reader #azriel x you #wip #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #fanfic #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger

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