Azriel had never been one for the spotlight, especially not when it came to his work, his emotions, or anything personal. He carried his burdens quietly, shoulders always squared beneath the weight of duty and unspoken thoughts. But the day the bond snapped into place between you two, something shifted irrevocably. You became a part of him, stitched into the very fabric of his being.

He was never the type for grand declarations or sweeping romantic gestures. Love, for Azriel, was spoken in subtleties. It lived in the soft brush of his fingers against your lower back as he passed by, in the way his hand found yours during quiet moments. It was in the small acts, keeping your favorite tea stocked, remembering the snacks you loved, pulling a warm blanket over you when you dozed off on the couch. Holding doors open wasn’t a formality; it was instinct. A quiet, constant presence, that was how he loved.

So when the ever-composed, reserved Shadowsinger suddenly lost control, it stunned everyone.

It had already been a demanding, frustrating week. Azriel had been sent on a mission he hadn’t wanted to take, especially with time he’d carved out meant to be spent with you, time stolen back from politics, court demands, and the weight of his role. Being away from you gnawed at him, every day stretching thinner than the last. And then, the mission itself spiraled into chaos. The target disappeared without a trace, leaving Azriel with little but frustration and the bitter taste of failure. As if that weren’t enough, a torrential downpour replaced what had been a bright, promising day, soaking him through by the time he finally returned to the House of Wind.

Exhausted, rain-slicked, and bristling with tension, he walked into the kitchen, his heart aching, needing to see you, just to breathe you in for a moment— and there you were.

But it wasn’t just you. Cassian stood close, his booming laughter filling the room, his easy charm directed entirely at you. He winked. Said something teasing, laced with a flirtation that, on any other day, might have rolled off Azriel’s back without a second thought. He knew Cassian. He knew the dynamic. But this day, this week, had worn him thin, and that simple, harmless moment cut deeper than it should have.

And just like that, the controlled, quiet warrior snapped. Azriel’s shadows whip violently around him as he slams the door shut with a force that rattles the cabinets, his voice a low, dangerous growl “Do you ever know when to shut up, Cassian?”his eyes locked on you, not with anger, but with a raw, possessive ache.