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nanaminsmoon · 8 months

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babydaddy!connie x blackfem!reader

a/n: so there was meant to be more at the end but it was getting too long, so i'll have to save it for another day...👀but here's more pain ig😁

cw: pnv, unprotected sex, connie calls reader; 'ma', 'dime que eres mía, ma' ('tell me you're mine, ma'), 'y/d/n' = 'your daughter's name', n word usage

wc: 3270 + lazily proofread bc i'm tired but i'll do it tomorrow

within the passing of a few months, connie had reintegrated himself into your lives, and had merged the three of you into the family he had always wanted. the evening that had caused it had ended with connie looking to his side, when you and your daughter’s laughs and mumbles had died down, only to see you both asleep. deciding he couldn't just observe your deep slumber for the rest of the night, he'd cool the warm smile on his face and turn the tv off. then, ensuring his movements were small so as to not disturb you both, he'd move to lift your daughter, before carrying her upstairs. he'd help her sleepily brush her teeth, put her in bed, then peck a goodnight kiss onto her forehead. the muscles in his neck would tense at the thought of leaving you alone, considering the afternoon you had spent together. so you’d wake up to connie carrying you bridal style to the bathroom where he’d sit you on the closed toilet, and help you sleepily brush your teeth, and do your skincare routine. light chuckles would leave his mouth at your drowsy agitation but his hands would remain busy, putting your bonnet on, clothing you in his shirt before, finally, joining you in bed.

that pattern would repeat a few times a week and, soon, seeing connie would no longer be an occasion reserved for fridays and sundays. because, lips pouted and long eyelashes laid comfortably as his eyes shut, connie would the first thing you’d see most mornings a week. soon, your pillow would be replaced by his tatted arm; from the second your eyes blearily shut, to the second the sun peeking through the gaps in your curtains forced them open. frequent visits would see space cleared in your closet and, connie would place a grateful kiss on your temple before filling said space with his clothes. he practically lived with you but, not yet old enough to fully understand her parents’ relationship dynamic, your daughter would be questioning why her dad wasn’t going home, at least once a day.

”we’re just having a sleepover, mama”, you said, hands busy doing her hair for school. luckily, she’d reply with a carefree nod and refocus her attention on her ipad. and, when you’d look over your shoulder, you’d see connie smiling to himself as he placed pancakes on her plate.

to the onlookers at the zoo, seeing your daughter sat on connie’s shoulders with one of his hands on her leg and the other intertwining its fingers with yours, you were a family. the same could be said for those who saw the three of you in matching shoes at the airport, going on a vacation paid for by connie. unbeknownst to them, those onlookers were admiring the wonderfully illustrated cover of a book with empty pages. because, to you, all you were was a question mark succeeding a multitude of questions. pushing someone to define something that seemingly rejected definition reeked of conflict, but the faint smell of heartache was growing in strength and you needed to fan it out before it permeated your home. so, laid on connie’s chest like most nights, you’d push yourself to ask him what had been on your mind for weeks.

”so when are you leaving?”, a small laugh would be added at the end of the question, to avoid sounding confrontational. and the skin pressed up against your cheek would move as a chuckle rumbled underneath it.

”why, you want me to leave?”, connie looked down to you, placing two fingers under your chin to make your lips more accessible to his own. and they’d be connected as you shook your head, in response to his question, before you pulled away to speak again.

”no. it’s just…what do i tell y/d/n when she asks me why daddy lives here now?”, you’d ask. making the questions light-hearted diluted their severity to connie. but when you’d sit up, obviously waiting for an answer, his face would drop slowly.

reality brought questions that connie had no answer to, that’s why he had just chosen to live in a fantasy. over the course of a few months, connie had used all the air in his lungs to inflate a protective bubble that’d shelter the family he’d been fighting to retrieve for years. joy was an emotion specially reserved for when he was with his girls, so his greed to stay joyful grew. in turn, connie never went home. boundaries had never been considered, much less the thought of ever crossing them. but now they were being demanded of him, he’d have to pop the bubble he had made, and face the harsh actualities he dreaded. holding off on what needed to be done did not make the task disappear, it just allowed connie to live like everything was perfect for a little longer.

”you think we could ever get back together?”, he asked, eyes monitoring you closely. his unexpected words pushed a laugh out of your mouth, while also lifting your hand to slap his chest. obviously, you thought connie was joking, but one look at his face would alert you of the opposite.

”you serious?”, your question would make connie pause, before his nod at you sent your heart crashing into your stomach. the weight of it should’ve been enough to anchor you to the bed, but the strength of your shock would overpower it to lift you onto your feet.

a slow dance in your kitchen, to end the candlelit dinner connie had prepared for you, had ended in your bodies being bare as your clothes covered the floor. hence why the first piece of clothing you’d pick up would be connie’s, yet you’d put it on anyways. and, as he put his boxers on, connie would watch your stood form as your face rested in your hands. though his subconscious had tormented him with demos of this very scenario, seeing your reaction in real time wounded connie far more than his nightmares ever had. your reaction had sewn his lips shut, so he’d be tasked with unpicking every stitch helping him swallow his feelings just so he could speak words he had heard many times before but never thought he’d say,

”y/n, what are we?”, your features would gather to form a grimace, before your feet would shift you towards the door. but connie’s hands wouldn’t let you get far, as they’d reach to grab your arm and pull you back to him.

”i’m in love with you, and you know that. that’s why i’m here every damn day, because i want this back”, he pointed between you two, ”i want our family back. i want this to just be normal for us, and for y/d/n to know that i’m not going nowhere”, even if you wanted it to, your head wouldn’t cease its shaking as you listened to connie. his confession confused your heart as much as it embraced it.

”then you shoulda thought about that before you fucked the both of us over”, your mouth worked hard to multitask; speaking your mind, and swallowing your rising tears.

the reason for your separation differed depending on who was asked; connie’s version of events stated that he wasn’t mature enough for you at the time. though you’d agree, you’d also add the fact that you had never felt like he was serious about you. conversations about your future had led to either dead ends or arguments. and, once the baby arrived, the noise of blaring music was more inviting to connie’s ears than the sound of new-born tears. if not him, then you would have to be the one to put you and your child first. many told you to wait it out, but you refused to wait for connie to learn how to prioritise. and his stubborn nature meant that connie would put up an unbothered front, and let you walk out his life.

over time, he settled down and you found that connie could be an amazing father when he wanted to be; he'd buy you a house, and ensure you never had to worry about money by providing you with an allowance. his logic behind it was that, seeing as your daughter was with you most days of the week, he wanted you to worry less about work, and more about mothering your child. changes in his behaviour led your friends and family to urge you to get back together, but you knew that his improvements as a father were not indicative of his improvements as a partner. truth be told, the fear of him fucking shit up again was what kept you away from him. even as he came back to you with his pleading heart on his sleeve, you shut him down and suggested just fucking as friends. complications with that arrangement arose when you fell for him again, but let your ego suppress those feelings. now they were bullying their way out of your heart and you no longer saw a need to stop them.

a small voice in connie’s mind berated him, and reinforced the idea that the reason you could never take him back was because he only existed in your life to pain you; from your breakup, to ruining your new relationships, to inserting himself back into your life without warning. that voice told him that you’d never love him again because he had done nothing to merit receiving affections as pure, and wholly perfect, as yours. and, seeing his actions bring tears to your eyes amplified that voice and he’d pull you closer, hoping that holding you would mean that your pain would seep through the pores in your skin and be absorbed into his body instead. small kisses would be planted on your temple as connie slowly walked backwards to sit on the bed, leaving you stood between his legs.

”i know i fucked up, it haunts me everyday. you shouldna had to wait for me to grow up, but…i’m ready now. i want this more than anything; i want to give y/d/n siblings, i want us to get married, and live together again. i just…need you to give me a chance”, connie’s eyes looked up to project the warmth of their sincerity onto your face, and all you could do was sigh. sure, he was was giving you what you had been wanting to see, and hear, from him for years, but was that enough to wipe out everything that had preceded it?

”a chance to do what?”, you spoke, quietly.

”to prove how much i want this.”, he said, squeezing your hands in pleading. if giving him a chance would cement his behaviour from the last few months, then you really had nothing to lose. it’d make him happy, it’d make your daughter happy and, as much as your ego didn’t want you to admit, it’d make you happy as well. so you’d roll your eyes before nodding at him, and giggling when you saw the small smile gracing his face. it’d rest there for all of two seconds before contorting into something that showed different intentions as he lifted your shirt up.

missing connie was something you hated doing, but making up for lost time was one of your favourite pastimes. so, you’d feign annoyance as you pushed him off, but you’d still be giggling like a schoolgirl as you moved his hands from your body. and, somehow, connie’s head would find its way into your shirt, his lips soon kissing your skin before moving to suck on your nipples. eager hands would take it upon themselves to migrate to the back of connie’s head, keeping his lips against you. and that’d encourage the impatient ones, stuck to your back, to harshly pull you into his deep kisses as he nipped at your navel ever so often. it was shameful how quickly connie made you uncomfortably wet; all it took was a series of wet kisses on your skin, mixed with his fingertips delicately trailing it, to deepen your breathing. but that’d be cut short when connie’s lips detached from you, as he moved out of his your shirt.

”lemme see how beautiful my girl looks”, he said, scrambling to lift the fabric off you. though your hands would help him, your mind would still be caught up on his wording.

”your girl?”, you raised an eyebrow, and he looked up at you in confusion,”you ain’t even asked me to be your girlfriend yet”, you hiding your now bare chest, and he’d roll his eyes.

”i ain’t just do that?”, he asked, desperately trying to uncross your arms so he could continue what he was doing.

”what—nigga, no! you gotta ask me”, you said and, as he went to open his mouth, you’d place two fingers on his lips, ”not now, properly. and i know you got money, so use it”, you grinned.

keeping your arms crossed left connie no other choice but to pick you up, and practically throw you on the bed. the sight of your tits bouncing from the recoil of you landing on the messy pillows and sheets, enlarged the growing bulge in his boxers so he’d rid himself of them almost immediately. as always, your expectant silence would be filled by the sound of his dick hitting his stomach. and the angry redness of his tip had you anticipating connie dicking you down until you felt like your internal organs were shifting in location. but, once he was inside you, he’d be moving at an agonisingly slow pace; the harsh prods you had been expecting to meet your cervix, were more akin to amorous pecks. that's because telling you how he felt had never been enough for connie; beit anger, neediness, or jealousy, connie needed you to feel what he was feeling. so, bearing a love for you that was so deep he could feel it in the pits of his stomach, connie wanted to replicate that for you with his dick. he wanted to know that when he pulled out, you’d feel an emptiness somewhat similar to how he felt when he was away from you.

and, as he fucked into you, you could feel it all; his regret for his past actions stretched you out until you were clawing at the skin on his back. the love he never got to give you multiplied with every touch of that spongy spot inside of you, and the words he could never say would be breathed onto your feverish skin. never in your life had you known connie springer to get overstimulated, but here he was; body adhered to your own with sweat, as he cloaked laboured whimpers with painfully honest admissions,

”i just need you so bad, ma. i hate being by myself”, he'd speak into the sticky skin on your shoulders, and comforting hands would be on his nape, massaging it softly. connie had once fooled himself into thinking that the only reason he only ever fucked you in missionary was because it was too boring to try with new people. but the truth was that it created an intimacy he only ever wanted to share with the woman of his dreams. and now that he had her legs wrapped around his waist, and her moistened eyelashes blinking up at him, he’d revel in this intimacy until he physically couldn’t anymore.

that point would seem near when, due to overstimulation and how good you felt, the blissful noises tumbling out of your mouth would raise in volume. quickly catching on, one of connie’s hands would be placed over your mouth to stifle the impending noise sure to fill the room when you came. quick reflexes would mean that connie's name, as well as random expletives, would be chanted repeatedly into the palm of his hand as you came around him. pleasured cries would fade into quiet babbles and, to connie, the fact that you could still will your lips to move meant that you weren't too fucked out to speak to him and, of course, he was wrong.

”dime que eres mía, ma”, connie begged of you. and, if you could form critical thought, you would’ve done so immediately. but anytime a coherent sentence would connect in your mind, the chain of words you had accumulated would be broken by connie’s dick sending you spiralling. yet you'd try anyways,

”i’m-m all yours-s, pa, i p-promise”, you said, and the satisfaction of hearing those words quickened his movements. his hands seemed to be digging deeper into the flesh around your hips because, looking at his dick disappear inside of you only to come out smothered in a mix of your arousals, was all connie could focus on. if it wasn’t rock solid already, that view would've made connie’s dick painfully hard. instead, all it did was make him twitch inside of you, causing him to curse at himself; connie knew what his body could handle, so he knew that one more nut would knock him the fuck out and he wouldn’t be fucking again until morning.

'pissed' did not even begin to describe how that made him feel, because all he wanted was to fuck his love so deep inside you, you’d be seeing love hearts everywhere for months. he needed you to feel how much he cared for you, and he felt like he needed all night to do that. but you two didn't have all night and you seemed to be the only one who cared,

”n-need you t-to nut, pa, i g-got work tom-morrow”, you said, and his eyes would finally look to your face again. ’how did i look away when she looks that fucking good?’, he thought to himself as his hand moved to your cheek. as opposed to when it was gripping your hips, it was loving when it touched the feverish skin on your face. honey was dripping out of connie’s eyes to dribble onto the place you two connected, and he’d fuck his decadent adoration into you over and over again until your eyes rolling back in pleasure sent him over the edge, and his hips stilled,

”fuck, why you so—fuck—pretty?”, his words landed on your stomach as his head bowed. the feeling of connie filling you for the nth time that night tightened your walls around him, and he’d wince at the torturous bliss that gave him, as he tried to catch his breath. he'd do so considerably quicker than you so he'd be the first to move, getting up to get a moist, warm towel to clean you up.

”all mine, yeah?”, he teased and, still working on recovering your thought processes, all you could offer would be a lazy hand shooing him away.

”imma make you mine properly tomorrow when i finally put that second baby in ya.”

#nanaminsmooninc #connie x black reader #connie x black y/n #connie springer x black reader #aot connie #connie springer

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skyjasper · 2 months

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Imagine Being Loved By Me

Gwynriel: Talk by Hozier

COMPLETELY INSPIRED BY @avabrynne !!!

This idea comes completely from @avabrynne !! Great thanks to her for letting me use this prompt!!!

Masterlist

Summary: Gwyn and Azriel had been tiptoeing around her connection for almost a year now. The night before summer solstice the group goes out to Rita’s. Things finally snap for them when Azriel sings her a song.

Warnings: light NSFW, other than that nothing!! Complete fluff!!

Word count:3270

~~~

It was the week of summer solstice which meant the glorious city of Velaris was bustling with parties and celebrations. Gwyn had been comfortable enough to start going out with her girls and the inner circle by last winter solstice after Nesta and Cassian got together.

So here she sat in Nesta's room getting ready with Mor, Emerie, Nesta, and Feyre. She sat on the bed watching as Nesta moved her hair into a lovely ponytail. Nesta's eyes met hers through the mirror.

“Come on Gwyn, let's find you a dress, Mor can you do her makeup?” She turned to the blonde and waited for a nod before walking off to her wardrobe. Gwyn moved into the stool that sat in front of Nesta's vanity, staring at Mor evaluating her.

“Let’s make you irresistible, maybe you’ll find a lovely suitor.” Mor’s brows wiggled with intention as Gwyn’s cheeks flushed.

She didn’t tell anyone about her small crush on the court's shadow singer, nor did she tell anyone about their midnight training sessions. She nodded her head to Mor with a smile.

“Oh, I haven’t even thought about that. Where are we even going tonight?” She asked as Mor applied a Smokey line of Khol to her eyes.

“Rita’s is having a live singing night tonight so we are going to go and force the boys to sing,” Feyre spoke from her spot next to Gwyn.

“All the boys?” She poked her head to look at Feyre before Mor grabbed her chin to guide her back to where she needed.

“That’s the goal!” Feyre's happy voice chipped.

“I found the perfect dress!” Nesta shouted before coming out of her closet with a mid-length silk dress that was the same shade of blue as her priestess robes. A gorgeous number that had Gwyn melting at the idea of wearing such a delicate piece on her body.

“That’s gorgeous Nes, I can’t possibly take that from you.” She whispered as if her voice would hurt the dress.

“Gwyn, I don’t even know why I have this dress, it certainly is not my color.” Nesta shrugged before moving to place the dress over a chair.

“Hey, Gwyn?” Emorie came to sit next to the nymph.

“Yes Em?”

“You remember when we went and you bought those lacy underthings even though you knew you weren’t gonna wear them?” She whispered only loud enough for the two of them to hear.

“Yes, I got them because they gave me power over myself, even though I have no reason to wear them they make me feel pretty,” Gwyn responded, currently applying a reddish-pinkish colored lip salve.

“Well… they would be perfect to wear under this dress.” Emorie shrugged. Gwyn paused, contemplating it, after a hesitant moment she nodded and stood to ask the house to retrieve them.

Once she was in the bathroom with the dress and her underthings she quickly changed. She pulled on the light blue lacy underthings before slipping on the matching slip for it. She took a second to observe herself in the mirror, reminding herself of her affirmations. I am the rock against which the surf crashes. Nothing can break me.

She pulled on the tight piece of silk, marveling at how it hugged her form to her waist before slightly tapering out into a lovely flowing skirt. The neckline was something she hadn’t seen before, the fabric was rippled in a purposeful way to look like loose silk when in fact it was not. It gave her a sight of her cleavage, her breasts were not large but they were at least a handful. The skirt had a dangerously high slight that came to rest at mid-thigh. As she laced the back her waist became more accentuated.

Gwyn took a second to take in the sight of herself and how beautiful she looked. The light blue- almost iridescent- silk showed off her slight tan from training and her vibrant hair. Even her freckles seemed more prominent.

“You ok in there Gwyn?” Nesta's voice asked, laden with concern from the other side of the door. Gwyn walked over to the door and opened it.

“Yeah, I’m ok. Are you sure this dress isn’t too much for tonight?” Gwyn asked shyly.

“No this is perfect! You look gorgeous Gwyn! Let’s do your hair.” Came Feyres voice from behind Nesta who was still staring at Gwyn with her jaw open.

“You look absolutely stunning Gwinnie. I know a certain male who is going to explode when he sees you.” Nesta told her while pulling her back to the vanity.

Gwyn took a second to mull over Nesta's words as one of the girls put two thin braids in her hair at the front before pulling it up into a ponytail, one braid running on each side.

“Who do you mean Nes?” Gwyn finally found the courage to ask, hoping she doesn’t sound as hopeful as she is.

“Oh come on Gwyn, we all know the shadow singer holds a certain appreciation for you, we see the way he looks at you. And those midnight training sessions, he’s never done that with anyone.” Mor spoke from behind her as she applied perfume oils to her skin.

“Wh-what, I don’t know what you are on about. Az and I are certainly just friends.” Gwyn blushed at the implication.

“If that’s what you think.” Emorie chuckled.

~~~

More and Feyre winnowed all of them to Rita’s. The girls ordered a round of drinks while waiting for the males. Not five seconds after their drinks were in hand did they hear the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s laugh.

They all turned towards the sound, finding Rhys dressed in his normal dress pants and a button-down, Cassain in typical pants and a loose top. Gwen slightly choked on her drink when her gaze ran across Azriel, he was hardly ever seen outside of his leathers, but tonight he wore black tight jeans and a black shirt that hugged his muscles, his wings standing proud and his black hair a bit messy. He looked more than edible, and when his gaze found Gwyn staring her cheeks blushed.

Azriel was the first to move towards them, his head dipping in acknowledgment to the girls before his eyes raked over Gwyn's form. His gaze moved down her body slowly, taking in each and every element of the gorgeous nymph. Azriel had always been attracted to Gwyneth and not just her beautiful looks but her intelligence as well. She was the only one who matched him, who challenged him in all ways, intellectually, in the ring, and all other aspects. Gwyn never failed to turn every interaction into a game.

When he finally came face to face with Gwyn he could only think of one thing to say.

“You look absolutely stunning, Gwyneth.”

A blush quickly rose on her already pink cheeks, her entire neck now heating at his compliment.

“You as well Shadow singer. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside of your leathers.” She smiled at him, not noticing her friends staring at the two of them. Azriels eyes slightly widened at her words, taking them in a different way.

“Not like that Az!” Gwyn laughed out. “I just meant you are always wearing your leathers, I’ve never seen you in casual clothing. It looks good.” She explained herself as the left side of his lips twitched.

“I understand Berdara.” He shook his head. He leaned over Gwen’s small form to get the bartender’s attention.

Gwen’s eyes stuck to his chest and his very prominent pecs. She turned her head to the girls before sliding out from under the shadow singer, reaching out and hugging Cassian.

“Gwinnie.” He shouted before patting her head.

“Cass.” She laughed, “Have you already had some drinks?”

“Oh absolutely, Rhys and I finished a good bit of scotch, Azzie insisted on being sober until we got here.” He continued before moving over to his wife and mate, whispering something in her ear that made her blush.

Gwyn said her hellos to the high lord before they all moved to find a booth tucked away somewhere. They all moved in, Feyre and Rhys on the innermost part, on their right were Nesta and Cassian, and on their left were Emorie and Mor, which left Gwyn and Az to sit together. He stood to the side waiting for her to slide into the booth.

She felt his gaze on her back, by now she had already finished her first drink and was feeling the effects of it. Her skin flushed with the heat of the alcohol, her grace already a bit more clumsy. Gwyneth Berdara was and always had been a lightweight.

Azriel slid in next to her, his thigh meeting hers. His shadows slid over her legs and up one of her arms, curling themselves around her as they always do in her presence. Her light giggle hit him hard. He turned his head to find her playing with the shadows as they moved all over her arms.

“Ok, shall we kick this night off with some singing?!” Mor clapped from her seat, startling Gwyn.

“Who’s first?” Feyre asked, looking around the table.

“Gwyn should go first. I’d kill to hear your voice again.” Azriel muttered the last part only loud enough for her to hear.

“Oh no, I’m already tipsy. I don't think it’d be that good.” She chuckled nervously, silently praying to the mother it wouldn’t have to be her.

“I’ll save you Gwinnie, I’ll go first. Don’t fret you’re next Gwinnie.” Cassian rumbled, trying and almost failing to stand and get out of the booth.

Cass semi-stumbled his way to the stage, asking for the projecting device and introducing himself. Rita’s erupted in cheers as Cassian started to sing a newer song about senseless love and nonsense. Something that Bryce chick had taught him.

“Gwyneth…” Azriel drew in a whisper, “Why wouldn’t you sing? You have a beautiful voice.”

“I am not nearly drunk enough to sing in front of all of these people. Maybe later tonight.” She shrugged in response, turning her head towards the shadow singer, not realizing how close he was.

“Speaking of, would you be a doll and go get me a new drink Azzie.” She mocked Cassian’s use of the nickname.

He chuckled and nodded before slipping out of the booth, walking with his head high through the crowd, power radiating off his body. When she turned back into the booth she saw Nesta and Feyre staring at her.

“What?”

“What?!” Feyre mocked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Azriel give this many smiles in public before.” She said, sipping on her drink.

“Oh hush, he’s just comfortable because he’s around his family.” Gwyn lied smoothly. “Plus maybe it’s just because I’m that funny” She mockingly flipped her ponytail, freezing when she felt it his something, or someone.

She turned and saw Az standing there with two drinks and a raised eyebrow looking down at her. Azriel had always towered over Gwyn but with her sitting in the low booth and him standing she was face to face with his stomach. She winced before scooting over to let him in.

“Hush.” She muttered before taking her drink out of his hand and chugging it.

“At this rate, you’ll be drunker than Cassian in no time,” Emorie spoke from her side of the table.

“Maybe I need to be so you all will be somewhat tolerable.” She replied with a thick layer of sass. Rhysand let out a deep chuckle, turning back to Feyre as they engaged in a silent conversation.

She felt a large hand run over the length of her ponytail, toying with the ends. She turned to look at the shadow singer as he stared at her.

“Can I help you?” Her eyebrow hiked up as his hand glided over the back of her neck, resting there as if it were normal.

“If I sing will you?” His deep voice asked, sending shivers through Gwen’s body.

She was speechless, Azriel had only ever sung for her once, granted his voice was beautiful, but he had said he doesn’t often do it in front of people.

“I suppose that is a fair deal. But first, since Cassian is finally done torturing the crowd with his voice let’s dance!” She clapped, standing quickly and swaying from the rush. Azriel’s scarred hands found themselves on her waist to help stabilize her. She smiled down at him before forcing everyone else to dance.

The song was something upbeat and fun, after Bryce had left to fight her war she came back with a gift, the swords, and these things called speakers that connected to one of her phones, she had also given them a large amount of batteries so it would last them while they studied the devices to replicate them. It made them all quite happy to have a new form of music, though some people were skeptical.

Gwyn grabbed Azriel’s hand and dragged him to the area of people dancing. She was a giggling, bubbly mess, and the shadow singer loved it. He had never seen her so unrestrained, save for their conversations while no one was around. Azriel cherished those conversations, he replayed them constantly in his hand, his heart fluttering at the memory of her bright smiles and sassy jokes.

With all regard abandoned Gwyneth danced, moving her body in a way that wasn’t meant to be sensual, but to the intoxicated shadow singer, was so enchanting. His shadows whispered to him about holding her ponytail around his fist as he thrust into her from behind, or about sliding the top of her dress down and watching her beautiful breast bounce. He quickly shook his head to rid himself of the thoughts and mask his scent. He didn’t used to have fantasies about Gwyn, but recently most of his nights are spent in a cold bath.

Azriel did not dance, he stood there like a guard to Gwyn, and when she noticed she stopped dancing. She moved her way to Azriel, wrapping her arms around her neck to raise herself to his ear.

“Why aren’t you dancing Azriel?” Her sultry voice spoke into his ear. Azriel stifled a groan at the sound of his name out of her mouth.

“I don’t dance, you know that Gwyneth.” He responded, placing his hands back on her hips to keep her steady.

“But Az…” she whined, dragging out the Z in his name, sending truly impure thoughts into his filthy brain.

“Gwyneth.” He spoke curtly with a voice so low she thought she might be imagining it.

He placed her on the floor before looking up, trying to regain his composure and restraint. He let go of her before walking up to the stage. He looked back at Gwyn and watched as her eyes widened as he took the amplifier.

He waited for the crowd to calm down before starting without any music.

I'd be the voice that urged Orpheus

When her body was found,

Gwyn stared at him as his beautiful voice started to sing a song she hadn’t heard before.

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief

That drove him underground,

Gwyn felt Nesta slide next to her, also completely enamored by Azriel's voice.

I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee

That made him turn around,

“How did you convince him to sing?” She whispered, barely audible, so as to not disturb the delicate song.

And I'd be the immediate forgiveness

In Eurydice.

“I didn’t.” She responded, making eye contact with Nesta as he sang the next line.

Imagine being loved by me!

Gwyn felt something pool inside of her stomach. She had spent many late nights in the bathing chambers, pleasuring herself to the thought of the shadow singer.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things we'd do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

Not once did Azriels gaze stray from Gwyn, not as he watched every emotion fly across her face, or as the heat rose in her cheeks at the implication of the words he sang.

He moved on to the next line as Gwyn stood there staring back at him. Suddenly, as he reached the end of the last verse, everyone else disappeared. It was just her and him as he wholeheartedly sang the words.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now all the things I would do

So I'll try to talk refined for fear that you find out how I'm imaginin' you

Azriel watched as realization flicked upon Gwyn's eyes. Her chest and neck started to flush the same color as her cheeks. The same flush he had imagined in his mind as he stared up at her from between her legs.

Gwyn's eyes flicked back over Azriels form as she realized he was single-handedly singing to her. Heat raked through her as she recalled the lyrics.

“I’ll be back Nesta.” She whispered breathlessly, turning and walking quickly to the back hall where there was an exit into the alleyway.

She rested her head against the brick wall, her heart beating wildly and her breath completely gone. She closed her eyes as she ran back through all of their interactions, screaming at herself for being so naive and blind.

She opened her eyes as she heard the door she came through open and close. Azriel was standing there, something like fear on his face as he waited for her response. All Gwyn could think to do was to walk up to him and kiss him.

Her arms flew around his neck as their kiss became hungry and passionate. Gwyn's hands found one of her thighs, pulling one leg up to his hip as he walked them so her back was against the wall. He broke the kiss, staring at her.

“Gwyneth.” He whispered.

“Azriel.” She whispered back, her lips ghosting against his. This time it was him smashing his lips to her, pushing her against the wall as one of his hands tangled itself in her ponytail.

“Wait. Gwyn, are you sure? Are you sure you want this? Us? I know I’m not the most honorable male, and I definitely don’t have a clean past.” He asked her.

“Azriel. I have wanted this since I cut that ribbon, I have wanted you since we started our training sessions and I found out just how beautiful your soul is. I don’t give a crap about your past, mine is definitely not clean. And those hands that you despise so much are the same hands that saved me, the same hands that taught me how to defend myself and reclaim my power, and hopefully the same hands that will make me cum.” She stared up at him as his hands flexed against her skin.

“Thank fucking gods, we can have a more meaningful conversation later, right now I just need to kiss you. Is that ok?” Before his sentence was fully out of his mouth Gwyn was nodding.

Azriel continued their kiss, pulling her leg tighter around his hips. The hand that was in her hair came down to her other thigh and tapped at it, signaling for her to jump. They were both breathless as they broke the kiss.

“Thank you, Gwyn.” He whispered, staring into her beautiful blue eyes.

“For what?”

“For showing me that I’m not ruined.” He smiled at her, a wide bright smile that carried across his whole face.

That damned dress.

~~~~

Note: I think this concept was so cute!!! I love writing Gwyriel!! Don’t worry I didn’t forget about the fics I promised!! They are coming, this was just my contribution to Gwynriel weeks!!

@gwynrielweeksofficial (their first kiss!!))

Taglist:

@littlelunatica @going-through-shit @annaaaaa88 @i-am-infinite @impossibelle

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