Umm Hi I Don’t Know If You Still Take ACOTAR Requests Anymore But If You Do Can I Request An Azriel

Umm hi I don’t know if you still take ACOTAR requests anymore but if you do can I request an azriel x reader where he’s in love with her and is afraid of rejection but he doesn’t know that she loves him too? 👉🏻👈🏻

hi nonnie, i’ll always accept an acotar request, hehe! did this in headcanon form, hope you don’t mind <3 it’s quite long and a little rough around the edges, but i hope you like it! ps. tumblr mucked up the formatting, some dot points don’t want to be indented. i hope it still makes sense x 

when your and azriel’s paths crossed, it was the mother at work again. after mor, azriel didn’t think he’d ever have the strength for love again. the aching and the pining had taken their toll, and the appeal of the mating bond had faded. to feel it all again, to risk his heart like that again - he couldn’t. and yet, the mother saw fit that he would. 

+++

he first met you in the palace of hoof and leaf, and it didn’t mean anything at the time; a stranger’s kindness, or if he indulged his cynicism, a hawker’s ploy. you were a commoner, a milkmaid who came to sell your products in the markets. he’d been at the neighbouring stall, waiting for the clerk to put together the only tea brew in prythian that could placate his migraines.

“sir, mr. shadowsinger, sir,” you called, “could i offer you a sample of my goat’s milk? maggie-may is very special, her milk can be just as good as a healer’s work, i swear it. try it, try it, sir.” 

azriel looked you over, glad that cassian wasn’t here to make that particular moniker stick. one brow raised in dubiety, he nodded and held out his hand - might as well, he thought, tired and getting ever more desperate for his tea. this didn’t show outwardly, of course; azriel’s face was as neutral as ever, his shadows coiling about his talons. your gaze was expectant as he tried the sample, and while it was a little too earthy for his taste, he nodded all the same. perhaps it had encouraged you too much, because then you asked: “could i perhaps persuade you to buy a pint?”

azriel had no interest at all, yet he couldn’t help but notice the detail: your fraying sleeves, the imperfect glass bottles, the beginnings of dark circles under your eyes. and yet you were smiling, you were sweet, being very generous for someone who had to presumably make a living selling fresh products. not for the first time, azriel made a purchase that only someone of the inner circle could afford, and one that didn’t really benefit him. “i’ll take several,” he said, looking at the handful of wooden caddies, mostly still filled with milk bottles. “i’ll take it all.” 

the clerk then handed azriel his brew while you stood there, wide-eyed and speechless, working through a range of emotions. at first you thought he was mocking you, but when he turned around again, fiddling with his coin pouch, you realised he was serious. “but, sir— maggie-may’s milk sure is delicious, but only in moderation— i couldn’t expect someone to buy it all—”

“as much as you’d let me, then,” he amended, being mindful not to impose or patronise. you bit your lip, trying to tally up the ultimate price, trying to gauge whether this man could even afford it. two gold, you said, trying your luck. azriel merely fingered his coins, placing the expected two and an additional three on the counter. he must’ve noticed your shock; you had frozen, after all, perhaps even stopped breathing. “since maggie-may is so special,” he drawled, earning a disbelieving laugh from you. 

that night, cerridwen, nuala, and elain were very confused at the sight of bottles and bottles of milk laying in wait on the kitchen counter in the house of wind. the note - clearly by azriel’s neat hand - read: use within five days.

+++

from then on, you always engaged azriel when you spotted him in the market. you could never forget his generous first purchase, and so while he waited for the tea master to finalise his special brew, you would entertain him with an endless supply of free samples of new products. over the years, azriel saw your business extend from milk to also include cheese and soap. he learned unnecessary things about your cattle, such as the supposed social dynamics and - mother forbid - adultery that mr. sweet pea the goat seemed prone to. over time, azriel grew comfortable enough to share some of his stories and observations, the things he’s seen in other courts. it took a while to realise you had become more than his mere acquaintance, and perhaps it was because you were outside his usual spheres of the inner circle and his spy network. to have someone outside was new, and a little jarring at times. the different experiences, the contrasting perspectives - it was refreshing, and reminded azriel how far he’d come since his miserable youth. when he was with you, the stakes weren’t so high, the conditions not so dire. you were a spot of calm, a reminder that life could be something other than the court’s defense. 

+++

one time when he visited - his tea no longer a requisite for him to make an effort to come in - you were noticeably subdued. “mr. sweet pea passed away,” you revealed, eyes wet and voice thick. something about that seized his heart, his shadows growing restless. “he was so special.” you actually said that about each of your cattle, something that azriel had started to find endearing, because he knew you really believed it.

social tact was not a strength of his - azriel knew he tended to be rigid and too formal - so he stumbled over some stilted condolences. it felt awkward and impersonal; azriel couldn’t empathise with the death of a pet, but he wanted to make it hurt less. he still remembered what the late goat had looked like the last time you had brought him in - an old thing, with a long beard and a mix of brown and black fur. strong, impressive horns, one which had a sizeable chip missing. 

so that night, he did what he could and sketched that image he had in his mind, of mr. sweet pea looking very wise and ponderous, if a little tired. azriel’s time as spymaster had bestowed him a keen eye and dexterous fingers, allowing him to make the necessary sketches to give his colleagues a clearer picture when necessary - of maps, of creatures, of profiles. they tended to be a little rough and raw, nothing particularly artistic. he thought the same of his current piece, and hesitated over whether it was good enough.

when he finally gave you the sketch the next day, you went very still. he started stumbling over some excuses, but you soon interrupted him with a shaky breath. “this is so thoughtful, azriel. thank you so much.” 

+++

azriel grew bolder, and interactions started to occur outside the markets. he’d invite you for tea, indirectly revealing one of his interests. he was a hard man to read, his expressions subtle when not stoic, but you learned. outside of professional matters, he was rarely straightforward, and tended to express his emotions in delicate, layered ways. his care for you was in the way he listened, how his attention never wavered when you were speaking with him. it was how he kept you close when you two navigated busy streets, how he lifted a wing over your head for cover when it rained, how he was content to spend time with you at your stall - sometimes for hours - despite his preference for quietude. 

+++

when work took him away, you two would exchange letters. azriel didn’t realise how dangerous a thing it was, because you quickly became a very intimate and constant part of his life. the act of writing tricked him, making it easier to truly express his thoughts - there was no pressure of navigating the immediate reaction, no incentive to keep his words short. you managed to draw so much out of him. he was mindful of each letter of yours he received, keeping them safe and tied together with an old ribbon of yours he’d saved before you could throw it away. he would never admit it, but work abroad tended to be overwhelming: while secure in his network’s quality of intelligence, being in another’s territory always meant having to deal with various variables and vulnerabilities, usually unknown. maybe your letters would have made it all a little more manageable if they didn’t elicit such longing within him. your words made him smile, yes, but they also made his heart ache. he missed you.

+++

after a lengthy assignment in the dawn court, azriel was relieved to be back in velaris. his shadows swirled and whispered around his shoulders, eager to feel your presence too. he knew they fascinated you, how playful they could be sometimes. yet, azriel couldn’t find you at your empty market stall. it was odd - you hadn’t mentioned moving in your recent letters, and he couldn’t find you in any of the other market squares either. soon his shadows grew restless, embodying the concern that was rising.

he employed his spy network to find your farm, hoping it wouldn’t be too intrusive to just show up unannounced. you had mentioned some details in passing before - it was a modest place, with a small house and a meagre hill of grass to feed a handful of goats and sheep. the door was answered by two worried faces, who took one look at azriel and grew even more distressed. “our son— it’s not our son, is it? it can’t be— he just—”

“i’m here to see your daughter,” azriel interrupted, too preoccupied to remember polite niceties. they were confused, guarded, but let him through. the hallways were narrow, his wings often knocking against the wall sconces. he listened as they explained your condition - an illness had befallen you, leaving you bedridden for days. apparently a healer had told them it’ll pass with rest and water, and with that reassurance, azriel forced himself to remember his place. right in front of your closed door, he willed his shadows away from his face, called upon his familiar impassiveness. turning around to face your parents, he amended, “may i see your daughter?” 

your room was dark, the curtains drawn. his heart raced as he heard your laboured breaths, and something pulled at him when he saw the small desk in the corner, an unfinished letter atop it. “azriel?” you whispered, voice sounding so small. “is it really you?” 

he neared, taking a cautious seat on the side of the bed. you were shivering, but the thin sheet covering you stuck to your skin with sweat. “yes, it’s me, sweetheart,” he said, the endearment slipping out before he could stop it. his throat closed up immediately after, but your vague movements suggested you didn’t even realise, and that you weren’t all there. he could see the feverish blush high on your cheeks, even in the dim light.

“you’re too big for this room,” you mused softly, making azriel smile despite his worry. indeed, he had to bend down to avoid hitting his head, and keep his wings tucked in uncomfortably tight. he took your hand in his, and even in your feverish haze, you could register the roughness of his scarred hands, but they always handled you gently. “why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” he asked, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. your discomfort was clear in your frown, in your downturned lips. noticing the basin on the bedside table, he took the damp rag on your forehead and dipped it into the cool water, wringing away the excess before gently placing it atop your head again. 

“i… didn’t want to trouble you with… with something trivial. a few more days and… and i’ll be back to work.” a weak smile pulled at your mouth, and azriel gathered both of your hands in his again. he shook his head at your line of thinking.

“your health isn’t a trivial matter to me,” he said, leaning close and cupping your cheek. in hindsight, it was so obvious that he had been in love with you far longer than he thought. it was all so rueful, the fact that he had let it happen again. despite it all, he pressed a kiss to your hand, trying to ignore how it trembled. your smile strengthened then, tracing a finger over his brow and down the bridge of his nose. azriel took a deep breath to savour the touch, and soon you two were merely watching each other, azriel wondering what thoughts were running through your slightly added mind. your lids eventually started to droop, however, but still he stayed even when you fell asleep, taking care to change the cool rag when necessary. his shoulders slumped when his head fell into his hands, squeezing his eyes shut tight. with such a revelation, what was he to do from now on? 

+++

azriel didn’t think he could be a good lover to you - even if he so very much wanted to be. his job took up so much of time, and it required him to be secretive. azriel wouldn’t ever be able to share everything with you, for the sake of keeping you safe. even if he could, there was just something in his nature that kept him reserved and pushed others away. there were so many things he’d rather leave in the past, and so many more that he wished he hadn’t been part of. there was that, but also his loathsome scarred hands - a reminder of those darker days. no matter how gentle, his touch would always scratch and scrape. once you took notice of how neglected they were, left to dry out and sometimes even scab, you took to work to concoct a nourishing lotion. “you have to be gentle with yourself, azriel,” you had once told him, gently applying the salve to his hands. they were rough but warm against your skin. “you do so much.”

+++

and so, everything he did with you was tinged with a hint of sorrow. he couldn’t bring himself to confront you with the severity of his feelings, but he also couldn’t quite remove you from his life - you had become a friend. you eventually noticed that he started to let his touches linger: when he hugged you, he’d curl arms and wings around you, enveloping you wholly; when you were near, his shadows would stretch toward you, as if revealing a hidden desire. when you reached for his hand, he would always grip it firmly, and when you came very close for some unimportant reason, his gaze would always linger on your face, flicking so often to your lips. 

+++

one night you had invited him over to the farm, wanting to introduce him to the latest addition of your household: a baby goat, just over a week old. she was as white as snow, and kept nibbling at your hair as you held her in your arms. “what should we name her, azriel?” you had asked, too preoccupied to notice how tense he was, hands in his pockets. “i was thinking of marjorie, or maybe miss marjorie… hey, what’s wrong?” his face was unusually expressive, his shadows roiling about his talons as if in distress. putting down the goat, her legs still clumsy and gangly, you stepped closer to azriel, reaching out. he shook his head, trying to school his face but you knew him by now. your shoulders slumped, recalling his strange behaviour over the years - he was present in most ways, but avoidant in others. “i wish you’d talk to me, azriel,” you murmured, taking his hand and hoping he wouldn’t mind the dirt. “you mean so much to me.”

it all bubbled up then in that small barn, the light dim and the smell of earth pungent. you let out a rueful laugh, rubbing your eye. “i’m in love with you,” you said, very quietly at first. immediately you felt so naive to be doing this. the fact was that azriel came from a different life, one that saw him as a leader of the court, who worked with powerful and beautiful people, fae who were richer and stronger and vastly more interesting. azriel’s mere presence in your life was extraordinary enough. and yet, you had found yourself falling in love despite the impracticability of it, found yourself admiring his kindness, his quiet generosity, his strength and resilience and dry humour. you shifted, looking right into his eyes. even if your love was unrequited, he deserved to be told - if only to let him know that he indeed was loved by one more.  “i’m in love with you. i don’t— i don’t expect you to say it in return, but i can no longer keep it to myself. i love you.” 

that threw azriel. he had fantasised of course, indulged in the scenario. but now, as you waited for his response, his thoughts stuttered. what? he wanted to say, unable to believe what he actually so very desperately wanted to believe. you grew nervous as the silence lengthened, azriel’s face as stoic as ever. you shook your head, covering your mouth in regret. “i’m sorry, i— i shouldn’t have said anything—”

he gripped your shoulders tight, gaze intense and voice low. “i also love you.”

“why do you say it like it’s a bad thing?” the solemnity which had tinged your relationship for some time was subtle, but you had felt it, and it had bothered you. 

azriel’s hands came up to cup your face, and he quickly shook his head. “it’s not,” he said, he urged. “it’s not, it’s not.” and then his lips met yours, chapped and rough, kissing you slowly, thoroughly, firmly. the conviction made your heart melt, and you gripped his wrists, feeling his racing pulse and caressing it, kissing him back, standing on your toes, letting him steal your breath. “i love you so much, sweetheart,” he sighed against your lips, nose brushing against yours. you went to reply but then azriel had claimed your mouth again, one hand snaking around to your back and the other to the nape of your neck. the light shifted behind your closed eyes as his wings came down to envelope the both of you, and your fingers reached to tangle in his hair, to trace the shells of his ears.

when you two parted again, his grin was lopsided and a little wry. “i just couldn’t believe it,” he murmured, his eyes shining with emotion. why not? you wanted to ask, wondering what it was that had held him back for so long, but decided to delay it for another day. all you could do was hug him tighter, just glad for the sight of his smile and the feeling of his relief. glad for his happiness.