Gwyn Berdara - Blog Posts

Weekend Mornings

AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

A/N: Another short, fluffy, completely self-indulgent drabble!

Word Count: 590

It was a lovely Saturday morning, the best, in Gwynn’s opinion. Indeed, she’d always been an early riser, as could be seen when the female sat on the sofa, reading a book. She was curled up with a warm mug of tea and her legs huddled under the covers while the sunlight streamed in through an open window, casting a warm, golden glow over the floor. She was completely immersed in her novel, a little furrow in her brow, when suddenly the door clicked open.

“Love, I’m home,” Azriel’s voice rang out through their shared apartment. He’d just come home after a morning at the gym, and as he made his way into the living room where Gwyn was lounging, he knelt down to press a kiss to her brow. Much to his chagrin, she leaned back so he couldn’t kiss her. Immediately, concern lined his features, and he looked worried. "Gwyn?" What's wrong?” She only crinkled her nose at him, pouting, and continued reading her novel. “Why won’t you hug me?”

Sighing, she put her book down. Her clingy mate really wasn’t going to let it go this time. “Sweetheart, I love you, but you’re sweaty and disgusting!”

“Well then, why don’t you be a good mate and join the club? We can both be sweaty and disgusting together-”

Azriel’s dialogue was cut short as a pillow went flying straight for his face. Merely chuckling, he caught the pillow with ease. Gwyn, however, took it as her cue to continue. “I’m not kissing my mate while he stinks like a dying raccoon.”

Showing mock offense, Azriel placed a delicate hand on his chest. “Dying raccoon? By the Mother, Priestess, you wound me so.”

She only laughed at that, throwing her head back so her copper hair caught the sunlight, now creeping up towards the east.

“Did you forget our wedding vows, Berdara? Whatever happened to “in joy and sorrow, in health and sickness, I vow to always be at your side?””

“I would never forget your vows, husband.”

Indeed, her wonderful, radiant mate, who always went above and beyond to ensure she was more than comfortable. She couldn't imagine her life without him now that he was here at her side.

“I would never forget what a pain in my ass you were that day,” she reminisced instead.

“Pain in your ass? Whatever did I do?”

“Do you want me to start alphabetically or chronologically?” He merely crossed his arms and raised a brow, his lips quirking up in a smile, as he encouraged her to continue.

“You spent at least half the wedding irritating all my bridesmaids, asking them if I was feeling alright, if I needed anything, until the point they got so irritated Nesta had to threaten to kick your sorry ass out of the wedding, never mind that it was our wedding to begin with.” He mockingly placed a finger under her chin, and pretended to have a good think. “Why do I remember something vaguely similar happening when it came to you, Gwyn? Do you want me to remind you of every little embarrassing thing you did at our wedding too?”

Promptly, she shook her head. He grinned. “That’s what I thought. Don’t start something you can’t finish, Berdara.” He lunged for her, and managed to grasp her in his arms to tickle her for all of two seconds before she darted off, presumably to another part of the house.

“Oh, Gwyn, you’ve done it now,” he called, and chased after his radiant mate.

A/N: Inspired by this Tumblr post

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Come To Bed

AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

A/N: This is more of a fluffy oneshot/drabble because I was bored at 9:45 on a random Wednesday (please ignore the spelling errors, or comment if you see anything truly atrocious)

Summary: Gwyn is fed up with her mate and husband, Azriel, having to work so much.

Word Count: 542

“Az, love, it’s been hours.”

Indeed, Azriel had been sitting at his desk for the Cauldron knew how long, his brow furrowed, hunched over and trying to work on his reports for Rhys.

Gwyn knew how busy their lives would be after they accepted their bond, but she hadn’t expected her husband would have next to no free time at all. It almost seemed like Rhysand, the bastard, was piling more work on top of her already exhausted mate. She made a mental note to have a firm talk with her High Lord…after she got to spend at least a week in bed with her mate.

She’d been trying to coax him out of his desk for ages now, and yet his pace was unrelenting. He didn’t stop or slow down even once, not bothering to eat dinner and instead deciding to forgo it and continue working on his paperwork.

“Az,” she whined again, throwing her head back on the loveseat she was lounging on. It was her favourite seat in his entire office, save for him, of course.

“Nearly done, love.” The low timbre of his voice did something to her, though she wasn’t quite sure what.

“You said that nearly two hours ago.” Indeed, she’d watch the time tick by, slow as ever, as her mate continued to work on that damned paperwork.

“But now I’m really almost done.”

“You said that too.”

“Come here.” Huffing dramatically, she pulled herself off the comfortable lounge and padded over to her husband. Just the scent of him, cedarwood and night-chilled mist, along with something she’d never been able to place, something distinctly…him, calmed her irritated self immediately. 

While one hand was busy writing, the other wrapped around her waist and pulled her down onto his lap. While he wrote, he idly drew circles on her hips, her thighs, her waist, and Gwyn couldn’t help but relax into his touch, and leaned her head back on his shoulder. Even then, her husband continued working, sometimes running a hand through her auburn hair or brushing a thumb over her cheekbone.

When Azriel finally turned to look at her though, she had a pout on her face. “What’s wrong, sunshine?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she said, “You promised you’d be done earlier.” Azriel couldn’t help his eyes flitting down to her breasts in her silk nightgown as she crossed her arms over her chest. Despite it, he grinned.

“I wouldn’t have been able to see this adorable pout, then, would I?” He pressed a small kiss to the side of her neck, just far away enough from the spot that drove her mad.

“It’s not adorable, I’m mad at you.”

“Sure you are, love.” Indeed, Gwyn never stayed cross at Azriel for long. It wasn’t as if she was truly mad at him now either, simply annoyed at how much his job kept him from truly enjoying each other’s company. He knew it too, and capitalized on it any moment he could.

“Come on, I’m done.” Gwyn didn’t think she’d heard a more satisfying sentence, and promptly wrapped her arms around his neck as he picked her up bridal style and carried them to their room. “I’m all yours for the night, love.”

A/N: Inspired by this Tumblr post

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Gwynriel

Part 1 - Azriel | Part 4 - Gwyneth | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 427

My sweetest Azriel,

How my heart shattered as I read your letter. Even as I write to you now, my love, my heart longs for you, cries out your name. My tears have long since stained my pillow, and the bed feels so impossibly empty without you. Devoid of emotion, numb, as the white linen covers stare up at me, a mockery of you (I do not know if I am describing the sheets or myself). I have clutched my bedsheets with an iron grip so firm and unrelenting I am afraid there will be imprints of my agony immortalised in the fabric.

Every second that passes I am reminded how impossibly far away you from me are. The distance gnaws at my heart, consistent and painful, creating a void so deep in me no one and nothing will be able to fill. No one but you. The true torment is that no one will ever know how much I long for you, save for these letters, only if these letters are found by another lover long after we have left this world. It seems unfair that I must keep this pain to myself, unable to verbalise it unless you are near. When you are near, all seems to be right with the world, with me. Despite being mated for such a short amount of time, it seems unfair that you must still fulfill your duties for this Court. 

Surely you have given enough? Surely you deserve to rest?

Azriel, I know you. What I do not know is if you have chosen these missions on purpose because you feel as if you do not deserve me, or my love. Or perhaps the High Lord has assigned you these. It is your job, after all. I know it takes a heavy toll on you, my love. I know how it plagues your mind like a black, infecting disease that eats away at your psyche, every moment of every day.

But know that you do not have to shoulder this burden alone. We are mates; each other’s halves, in body and in spirit. We are equals. Allow me the honour of sharing your sorrows, allow me to carry your burdens. What, then, would our marriage vows mean otherwise?

You will never be broken or jagged or insufficient to me, Azriel. 

Allow yourself the grace to ask me for help. Allow yourself to lean on me. That is all I ask. You have shouldered far too much for far too long. Now, it is my turn. 

Unconditionally yours,

Gwyneth

Part 5 - Azriel

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings

Letters of Desperation - Gwynriel

Part 1 - Azriel | Part 3 - Azriel | AO3 | ACOTAR Masterpost | Masterpost of masterposts |

Word Count: 262

My precious warrior,

My heart cannot take your absence any longer. It cries out your name, and I feel as though it will rip itself out of my chest and soar above the clouds to find you. How I miss you. But perhaps miss is not a strong enough word for what I feel. I fear that my love for you has long since passed that trivial stage, and has taken on a form so unrelenting and merciless, a form which cannot be avoided or left alone, no matter how much I may try to bury my love for you.

It rises like a waves, taking me under as a shipwrecked sailor would be subject to the whims of nature. It takes me under and does not let me go, clutching me and clawing at me until I become insane with desire, until I am neither Fae, nor Illyrian, nor a Shadowsinger; merely Azriel. Merely yours, in every way that matters. 

I whisper your name like a prayer, so sinful and sweet and depraved, more holy than any prayer the Mother has to offer. For you are my religion and my faith now, my Goddess of such ethereal and breathtaking beauty. Stunning and radiant, emanating light from your very soul, shedding such pure warmth on my dark, shadowed heart. 

Maybe your light will piece the broken and jagged shards of me back together.

All I hope is that I do not cut you in the process. You do not deserve to bleed any more than you already have.

Your eternal love,

Azriel

Part 4 - Gwyneth

Line dividers credit goes to @enchanthings