riddlesb1tch

[riddlesb1tch]

GOD HELP ME IM IN LOVE

Netflix’s The Witcher ‧ Betrayer Moon

[riddlesb1tch]

berries tart, lilac sweet

[riddlesb1tch]

Imagine that Azriel goes out to Rita’s with Rhysand and Cassian while you are at home. He’s absolutely wasted when he comes back and he’s incredibly clingy when he’s drunk so as soon as he steps in the door he’s shouting “my mate! My lovely mate!” And you approach him quietly laughing and say “welcome home, Az” and he IMMEDIATELY slumps into you saying “you’re so beautiful, my beautiful girl” and “I missed you so much” and hold him and lead him to your room where he still refuses to let go of you. He’s laying on your chest when he asks “can you give me a million kisses?” So you pepper kisses all over his face. When you stop he says “that wasn’t a million! I’m gonna count, cheater,” and then counts every single kiss and falls asleep counting.

BONUS

before he falls asleep he mumbles “cassians tried but his kisses aren’t as good as yours”

[riddlesb1tch]

Imagine you and Azriel arguing about some petty little issue you don't even remember now, but you're still mad at him because obviously. You have dinner over at Rhysand's, for which everyone is bringing one dish. You chose to take dessert: custard. When everyone is done eating, you serve everyone the custard, and to get revenge on Azriel, you put a ton of salt in his bowl. When everyone is eating, you watch azriel out of the corner of your eye, waiting for the second he spits it out or gags. To your surprise, though, azriel finishes the entire bowl like it's the most delicious thing he's ever tasted. You watch him, perplexed. You can't resist asking through the bond, "How did you eat that entire thing without spitting it out?" and he replied, "You could feed me poison and it'd be my best meal simply because you served it to me, my mate."

Also honorary mention @arshiyuh for the convo below

[riddlesb1tch]

Claimed by Shadows

Azriel Shadowsinger x reader

summary: Azriel finds out that you are going to be helping your friend Kaelen with a task and he gets a bit...jealous.

warnings: none

"Azriel, wake up!" You shook your boyfriend’s shoulder, trying to rouse him from sleep. You had been at it for the past ten minutes, standing beside his bed, fully dressed and ready for the day, while Azriel hadn't even grazed the hem of consciousness.

Growing impatient, you gave his shoulder a more violent shake, but the stubborn male simply groaned, rolling away from you as if the world beyond his dreams didn’t exist.

You knew he was doing this on purpose. The exaggerated snoring, the way his lips twitched with suppressed amusement—it was all a game to him. Teasing you seemed to be his favorite pastime.

Crossing your arms, you huffed, "Azriel, if you don't wake up, I'm leaving, and you won’t see me the entire weekend!"

That got him moving.

In a blink, Azriel sat up and yanked you down onto the bed, pulling a surprised shriek from your lips. Before you could even register what had happened, you found yourself pinned beneath him, his powerful frame hovering over yours.

"Az!" you gasped, glaring up at him.

He smirked, his golden-brown eyes filled with heat and amusement. His tousled black hair fell over his forehead, his bare chest warm against yours. His lips—plump and pink—parted slightly as he took you in.

"You know," he murmured, voice still husky from sleep, "you look so hot when you're threatening me."

Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words, and you internally cursed yourself for how easily he affected you.

Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "How would you know? Your eyes were closed."

Azriel grinned. "Touché." Then, before you could say another word, he leaned down and caught your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

His thumb stroked your jaw as his hand came up to cup your face, and when you tangled your fingers in his soft hair, pulling him closer, a low groan escaped his throat—sending a thrill straight through you.

When you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel pressed one last kiss to your forehead before collapsing onto his back and pulling you to his chest.

You lay there, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his stomach.

"You wanna go to the café later today?" he asked casually, brushing his fingers through your hair.

You lifted your head, meeting his gaze through your lashes. "You know, your efforts in asking me on a date have dropped significantly since we started dating."

Azriel playfully swatted at your shoulder. "Do you, though?"

You sighed. "I can’t. I promised Kaelen I’d help him go through some old potion books to find a cure for the plague in the Autumn Court."

Azriel’s brows immediately furrowed. "When? You didn’t tell me about this before."

"I just did," you replied with a teasing smile, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

Azriel sat up suddenly, facing you, his expression unreadable. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, then closed again.

"Are you okay?" you teased. "Shall I fetch a fishbowl for you, Mr. Shadowsinger?"

Azriel ignored your quip, his jaw tightening. "Why you?"

"Because he asked for my help," you shrugged. "It’s not a big deal, Azzie."

Azriel’s expression darkened. "He obviously has a crush on you, Y/N!"

You blinked, then laughed outright. "That’s ridiculous!"

Azriel did not look amused.

"Y/N, I’ve seen the way he looks at you," he insisted. "During training, after training, every time you’re in the same room—"

"He’s my friend," you interrupted, shaking your head. "And even if he did have a crush on me, I’m not interested, so you have no reason to be jealous."

Azriel exhaled sharply, but his grip around your waist tightened possessively.

"I’m not jealous," he sputtered, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise. "I just don’t want another male eyeing what mine"

You grinned. "Okay, that was kind of cute."

Azriel smirked, but you could still feel the tension in his body.

"Now," you continued, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed, "I’m heading down to breakfast. See you there in a few?"

"Yeah," Azriel muttered, watching you go, still brooding.

Breakfast had come and gone, and Azriel never showed up.

You now sat in the Townhouse with Mor, half-listening to her chatter while your eyes constantly wandered to the door, waiting for your missing Shadowsinger.

Finally, Cassian walked in.

"Hey, Y/N," he greeted.

"Hey," you replied, still watching the door.

Cassian raised a brow. "Looking for someone?"

"Yeah," you sighed. "Did you see Azriel?"

Cassian shook his head, offering an apologetic shrug.

Before you could dwell on it, Kaelen appeared in front of you.

"Hey!" he greeted with a smile. "Still good for the library at one?"

"Yep!" you confirmed.

And then—as if summoned by pure spite—the doors finally opened, and in walked the Shadowsinger.

Your stupidly handsome boyfriend zeroed in on you instantly… and then his gaze darkened when he spotted Kaelen.

Striding over, Azriel dropped into the seat beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead.

"Hey, princess," he murmured. Then, to Kaelen—dryly—"Hey."

Kaelen nodded stiffly, then quickly took his leave.

You turned to Azriel, crossing your arms. "I waited for you for over an hour! Where were you?"

Azriel smirked and pulled a small bag from behind him. "I went to get you this."

You frowned as he held up a blue hoodie with “AZRIEL’S GIRL” embroidered in gold across the front.

"What is that?" you asked incredulously.

"Your outfit," he declared, "for when you’re with Kaelen. So he knows you’re mine."

You groaned. "Azriel, the whole damn Court already knows we’re together!"

"I’d just like to make it extra clear so he can focus his efforts on someone else," he said smugly.

"You’re impossible," you muttered, but a small laugh escaped you.

Azriel leaned in and whispered, "Besides… you look crazy sexy in blue."

Your cheeks flamed, and you shoved him away.

After much persuasion (and lowkey begging from Azriel), you begrudgingly wore the hoodie over your outfit before meeting Kaelen.

"Cool hoodie," he remarked, smirking.

You mumbled a quiet, "Thanks," before diving into your research.

An hour later, as you were packing up, a male dressed in an orange tunic approached Kaelen.

"Hey, babe," the male said, kissing Kaelen’s lips.

Azriel, standing beside you, visibly paled.

Kaelen was—as you had told him—not even remotely interested in you.

Turning to Azriel with a smug grin, you said, "See, Azzie?"

Azriel cleared his throat. "You didn’t say he was gay."

You smirked. "Regardless… you should listen to your girlfriend."

Azriel just groaned.

[riddlesb1tch]

Mistaken Betrayal

Mattheo Riddle x reader

summary: Y/n sees an incriminating photo of her boyfriend with another girl and confronts him about it.

warnings: cheating, yelling, fighting, swearing.

“How could you do this to me, Mattheo?” you yelled, barging into his room, voice trembling with anger and betrayal.

Mattheo was lying on his bed, a book resting open in his hands. At your outburst, he snapped his head up, brows furrowing in confusion. His wide, startled eyes searched your face, waiting for you to explain. When you didn’t speak for a few seconds, only standing there with your hands shaking at your sides, he hesitantly asked, “Do what?”

You let out a humourless laugh before thrusting your phone in his face. On the screen was a picture of a guy and a girl, lips locked in a way that made your stomach churn. The guy had his hands tangled in her hair, pressed against the wall, completely lost in her.

And he looked exactly like Mattheo.

Mattheo’s expression flickered from confusion to realization to sheer panic in the span of a heartbeat. He stood up too fast, hands raised as if trying to calm a wild animal. “Y/N, I know how this looks, but I swear to you, that’s not me.”

You scoffed, a bitter sound that made his heart clench. “Not you? Mattheo, are you serious? Do you think I’m an idiot?” Your voice cracked at the end, betraying the heartbreak coursing through you. “I can fucking see that it’s you!”

Mattheo took a cautious step closer, as if approaching something fragile. “Sweetheart, listen to me—”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!” you snapped, stepping back, away from him. “I thought things were finally going well! I trusted you!” Your voice dropped to a whisper, the words trembling, raw. “I loved you.”

Mattheo felt his stomach drop. The past tense sent a fresh wave of fear through his veins. “Y/N, please,” he begged. “You have to believe me. I would never—”

“Then how do you explain this?” You held up the phone again, your hands trembling. The more you looked at it, the more the image seared itself into your mind, branding the betrayal onto your skin. “If it’s not you, then why does it look exactly like you?”

Mattheo opened his mouth but no words came. He ran a hand through his curls, frustrated, desperate. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s the uniform, maybe it’s the hair—”

You let out a choked laugh, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Right. Because there are just so many guys at this school who look exactly like you.”

“Y/N—”

“I can’t do this,” you whispered, voice cracking. “I need to go.”

Panic flared in his chest. He reached for you, but you flinched, and that hurt worse than a curse to the heart. “Please, don’t walk away,” he pleaded. “Let’s talk about this.”

You shook your head, swallowing back a sob. “I need time, Mattheo. I need to process.”

And then you turned and walked away.

Mattheo watched you go, watched the way your shoulders curled inward as if shielding yourself from the pain. And the worst part was—he had no idea if you would ever walk back to him.

The days without you were unbearable. You avoided him like the plague, dodging his gaze in the hallways, slipping out of rooms the moment he entered. He tried—God, he tried—to talk to you, but every time, you brushed past him like he was nothing more than a stranger.

And it was killing him.

“Aww, Matty’s whipped,” Theo said teasingly. This resulted in a death glare from Mattheo, making Theo’s smile bigger.

“C’mon, Matty boy, don’t look so bummed out. She’s just a girl,” Draco teased further.

“I’m gonna whip your ass if you don’t shut the hell up, Malfoy,” Mattheo said angrily. He sighed in frustration, resting his elbows on his knees. “It was just a stupid misunderstanding. I don’t know how it got so blown out of proportion,” he vented.

Blaise, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward. “Wait, you said she showed you a photo, right? Do you still have it?”

Mattheo pulled out his phone, the cursed image burning his retinas.

Blaise’s eyebrows shot up, a devilish smile taking over his features. “Oooh,” he took the phone from Mattheo, turning the screen towards Theo. “That’s a different home being torn down here,” he remarked.

“What do you mean?” Mattheo asked.

“That’s the chick that cheated on her man,” Theo said to Mattheo, taking the phone from Blaise. “What was her name again?” he directed that at Blaise and Draco.

“Camille, I think,” Draco replied.

“Yes!” Theo affirmed.

Mattheo’s brows furrowed. “What?”

“The girl who cheated on her boyfriend,” Theo clarified. “And if it’s Camille, then the guy in the photo isn’t you.”

A spark of hope ignited in Mattheo’s chest. “Then who is it?”

Camille happened to walk by at that moment. Theo waved her over, grinning. “Hey, Camille, who’s the guy you cheated with?”

Her eyes widened in horror. “How do you know about that?”

Blaise simply turned the phone toward her. Camille blanched. “Where did you get that?”

“Doesn’t matter. Just give us a name and the photo will be forgotten,” Theo said smoothly.

Camille exhaled sharply. “Fine. His name is James McCallan, fourth-year Slytherin.”

Mattheo didn’t wait to hear anything else. He was already on his feet, sprinting out of the common room, his pulse hammering. He was going to fix this.

Twenty-five minutes, eighteen different inquiries, and one nearly broken nose later, Mattheo found James McCallan—snogging a Ravenclaw in an empty classroom.

Without hesitation, Mattheo grabbed him by the collar and dragged him through the halls. “What the hell, mate?” James protested, struggling.

Mattheo didn’t let go until they reached your dorm. He shoved James inside, making you jump in surprise from where you sat at your desk.

“Mattheo, what—”

“That’s him,” Mattheo panted, chest heaving. “The guy in the picture.”

James frowned. “What picture?”

Mattheo turned to you. “Show him.”

Your fingers trembled as you pulled up the photo, handing him the phone. James barely glanced at it before shrugging. “Oh yeah, that’s me.”

Silence fell over the room. The weight of your mistake crashed into you all at once. You had spent days ignoring Mattheo, hurting him, when all along… he had been telling the truth.

Tears welled in your eyes as you turned to Mattheo. His face was unreadable, but there was something raw, something aching, beneath the surface.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out, stepping toward him. “I— I didn’t—”

Mattheo exhaled sharply, and then suddenly, his arms were around you, crushing you against him. “I thought I lost you,” he murmured into your hair, voice thick with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at him, to see the pain you had caused lingering in his dark eyes. Standing on your tiptoes, you pressed a kiss to his lips—desperate, aching, a silent promise that you would never doubt him again.

Mattheo held you tighter, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce of relief, love, and agony into it.

Because he almost lost you.

And he never ever wanted to feel that way again.

masterlist

[riddlesb1tch]

period

"I ship Elriel!"

"I ship Elucien!"

I ship myself with most of the damn characters. I'd fuck them. Point blank, no hesitation. Smash. Next question.

[riddlesb1tch]

OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDD

this was so freaking beautiful and pure and realistic with describing the feelings I actually cried 😭

Pure Love

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: soft!azriel (this is toothrotting fluff, so yes it's a warning), language, tending to minor wounds

word count: 6.8k

synopsis: You were in love with Azriel. It was inevitable, really. Who could blame you for falling for the kind and gentle male?

or

A series of moments that show your blooming love for Azriel, who was too busy cultivating his own love for you to notice.

my masterlist

~ ~ ~

I love you.

The words swam in your head as you stared at the beautiful male across the training room. His wings were tucked in tight behind him and his shadows were out of sight as he gently coached a tentative priestess. She was the newest recruit from the library, and she was a skittish little thing. It had taken Gwyn months to convince her to join you all for training.

Emerie and Gwyn had balked when Nesta suggested she start her training with Azriel, but you knew there was no one better to coax confidence into the nervous female. You understood Gywn and Emerie’s bewilderment. Really, you couldn’t blame them after watching Azriel and Cassian push them past their limits every day in training. It wasn’t too long ago, though, that you had been in that priestesses shoes, and the very same shadowsinger had helped you grow into yourself. He recognized your strength long before you learned to see it in yourself.

You felt like a fool the first day of training. A naive, fumbling fawn that had wandered into a lion’s den. You were an Illyrian female with no money or skills to your name, and you felt so stupid for thinking you could be like Emerie. Emerie, the Illyrian female from your own camp that had won the Blood Rite, alongside the two other females you admired. She had found you cornered by a group of males just a block from your home, somehow scaring them off. Something inside of you snapped then, and you knew you would do whatever you could to get out of that hell hole.

You begged her to take you with her to Velaris. To ask the General to train you alongside them. You really didn’t need to do much to convince her, for she understood your struggles and desperation better than anyone. Cassian was convinced easily enough as well, and hope had bloomed in your chest at the prospect of training with Valkyries. That hope withered that first day, when you couldn’t even muster the strength to hold a wooden sword, or find the coordination to follow the intricate footwork of sparring.

You had slid out of the training room while everyone was chatting during a water break, and walked blindly until you found a long, dark stairwell that seemed to stretch down for miles. You numbly walked down the stairs until you stopped to slide down against the stone wall, sitting dejectedly on the step. Tears silently slid down your cheeks as your heart pounded and you thought about going back to that gods forsaken camp with those bastard males. 

The door to the stairwell had slowly creaked open, and the sound was followed by slow and heavy footsteps that made your back straighten and skin prickle with nerves. Your stomach twisted once you made out the silhouette of the large winged-male a few steps above you, and your mind fell back to the last time you were alone with an Illyrian male. As if he could read your thoughts, he stayed back, not daring to come any closer, and slowly sat on his own step. Moments of tense silence passed between you, before he finally asked, voice quiet and gentle, “Are you okay?”

You didn’t know how to answer him. You weren’t okay, but you didn’t know if you wanted to admit that to the Night Court’s Spymaster.

Azriel kept speaking, his tone hushed, “I didn’t know how to fly until I was eleven.”

You couldn’t help the shock that roiled through you. Eleven? How could it be possible for an Illyrian boy to go so long without giving into his instincts to fly? You had been able to fly since the age of three, until the males in your camp stole that joy from you a decade later.

“It’s a long story,” he said, his quiet voice bouncing off the stone around you. “But I learned eventually, and now I’m here.”

You still said nothing, prompting Azriel to keep talking. “No one here is going to judge you for trying,” he murmured. “For learning to defend yourself. Everyone starts somewhere, and we all understand that. Better than most.”

“I don’t want to go back to that camp,” you croaked.

A beat passed that seemed to crackle with a new tension, and you wondered if you had managed to say the wrong thing, until Azriel swore, voice hard, “You don’t have to.”

“But if I can’t—”

“You are welcome here in Velaris for as long as you wish,” he cut you off. “You can stay here in the House of Wind however long you need. Emerie is about to move in as well.”

You mulled over his words, and your chest tightened as you thought about training again. “I’m nothing like those females in the training room,” you whispered.

“How so?”

You floundered. “They are all so magnificent. They are brave, and strong, and courageous. They are confident, steady. I am none of those things.”

“You are a female who has survived the horrid treatment of Illyria,” Azriel argued, voice resolute. “You endured that wretched culture and are still here, still wanting to fight. That alone makes you brave. It makes you strong. Don’t let your mind trick you into thinking otherwise.”

You couldn’t believe he spoke of Illyria with such disdain. This fearsome Ilryian male that sat on the High Lord’s court with swirls of Illryian ink snaking up his neck and down his arms spoke of his culture with such hatred you nearly recoiled, and you wondered what happened to make him despise his own culture so much. 

He let out a breath. “I will help you train,” he murmured softly. “We can meet for extra sessions if you would like.”

You had known that you really would be a fool if you passed on his offer, if you jeopardized the freedom he was offering you on a silver platter. You jumped at the opportunity, and that’s how you ended up spending the next five months training with Azriel. He was kind and gentle and respectful with every word he spoke, with every direction he gave to you. He pushed you to your limit every night, limbs wobbly with exhaustion by the time you crawled into bed, but he never asked you for more than you were capable of.

He taught you how to trust yourself. To be sure of your movements and your thoughts. To rely on your instincts in every situation. You carried yourself with confidence now, head held high and back straight when you walked into a room or down the bustling streets of Velaris. He would argue with you, but you knew you owed it all to Azriel.

Yes, he truly was the perfect person to coach the new and timid priestess. You knew of the terrifying reputation he held across Prythian. You had known of it long before you ever met him, but he quickly proved to you that he was nothing like the rumors painted him as. He could be ruthless, yes, and you were sure he was terrifying to whoever ended up on the other side of his dagger, but he never held that persona around you or his loved ones. Never around the citizens of Velaris. Azriel was sweet and gentle, patient and understanding, and could anyone really fault you for falling in love with the male after spending so much time with him?

His hazel eyes locked with yours across the room. Your face flushed at being caught watching him, but you offered a small, sheepish smile, to which he returned. Your heart fluttered, and you dragged your attention back to the females around you, avoiding Nesta’s curious gaze.

~ ~ ~

I love you.

You watched from afar as Azriel crouched down in front of a small girl on the bustling streets of Velaris, his wings creating a pocket of safety around the teary eyed child. She had a scrape on her knee that she was cradling to her little chest, and her eyes were wide as saucers as she stared up at Azriel. You inched closer, hoping he knew you were there if he needed you. If she wanted a female’s help.

He didn’t need your help, of course. You watched him hold his palms out for the little girl, and she slowly placed both of her tiny hands in his scarred ones. You saw her eye his hands curiously as he helped her rise to her feet, but her attention was quickly diverted by the new trail of blood trickling down her shin. Her lip started to wobble, and Azriel looked around frantically. You quickly pulled out the handkerchief you kept in your pocket and held it out to him.

His eyes clung to the embroidered cloth dangling in front of him before they snapped up to you. “Use this,” you murmured quietly. He gently took the cloth from you, dragging his eyes away to look back at the little girl.

He cooed softly, the girl clinging tight to the fingers of one of his hands. He softly told her not to worry, that they would get her all cleaned up in no time as he gently wiped the blood from her pale blue skin. Her cheeks were wet as she watched Azriel in awe, her tiny hand still gripping his fingers.

He stuck the cloth in his pocket, hiding the blood from her sight as he told her softly, “There. Like it never even happened.” He grinned at the little girl, whose cheeks turned a darker shade of blue. He squeezed the hand she still had wrapped around his. “Is your mother around, honey?”

Your insides melted at the sweet term of endearment that he cooed to the little girl. Falling in love with such a kind and gentle male, beautiful inside and out, was inevitable, really.

She shook her head, dark curly hair disheveled from her fall bouncing around. “I lost her back there.” She pointed in the direction of the Sidra, where shops and cafés lined the bustling boardwalk.

Azriel slowly stood up, keeping his hand in hers. He hummed softly, “Let's see if we can find her.”

He briefly glanced at you, and you took that as your cue to follow. Azriel and the girl walked hand in hand down the busy cobblestone street, with you trailing closely behind. “My name is Az,” he told the girl, then he pointed over his shoulder to you. Her eyes followed his motion so that they landed on you curiously. “This is my friend Y/N.”

The girl took you in with wide eyes, and you smiled softly. “You’re pretty,” she said in awe.

Your face flushed, and you caught Azriel’s smirk before you cleared your throat. “Why thank you,” you said animatedly, forcing yourself to accept the young faerie’s compliment. “You are beautiful,” you returned. “You glimmer like the brightest star.”

The little girl bashfully looked away, stepping closer to Azriel to hide behind his arm. Azriel chuckled softly. “Can you tell us your name?” he asked.

Before the girl could respond, commotion in the street made you and Azriel halt. He tugged the girl close to him as you flanked her other side. A female was yelling in the street, frantically moving from person to person. Her eyes were wild and frantic as she scanned the bodies on the street, her pale blue skin glimmering in the sunlight. You looked down at the little girl. “Is that your mother?”

She twisted to look around the towering bodies surrounding her, but Azriel quickly scooped her up in his arms so she could see. She giggled at the dramatic change in height for her, resting her little hand on his broad shoulder. He pointed to the female up ahead, and the girl nodded excitedly, wiggling in his hold.

“Hang on a second, love,” he murmured, holding her in place. The three of you moved closer to the female, the crowd of bodies parting easily around you at the sight of Azriel.

Once you neared closer, the distraught female’s eyes snagged on the Illyrian male carrying her tiny daughter. Her face visibly crumpled with relief as she hurtled to meet the three of you. “Molly!” she cried with her arms outstretched, the girl easily leaping from Azriel to her mother.

The girl stuffed her face in her mother’s neck. “You can’t run away from me like that,” she chided, voice wobbly with fear and relief.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” the little girl whined into her mother. Her mother sighed and ran a gentle hand over her head before her eyes drifted back to Azriel. They went wide.

Azriel shifted on his feet, his arm brushing against yours. You glanced at him out of your periphery and noticed the faint pink hue that coated his cheeks. The female sputtered before stammering out, “Thank you, Spymaster.”

Azriel moved his hands behind his back. “Not necessary,” he said softly. The female was at a loss for words as she stared at him. Her eyes briefly passed over you, and you smiled softly.

“She has a bit of a scrape on her knee,” you told the female after Azriel had grown stiff beside you. “Azriel cleaned her up, but it should probably be washed.”

The female nodded, holding her daughter tight. “Thank you,” she said again, clearly still intimidated by the male beside you. “I’m sorry for the trouble,” she added, and then hastily moved away and disappeared into the busy street.

Your gaze lingered on where she vanished for a moment before you returned your attention to Azriel, who was still thrumming with tension beside you. “Azriel?” you asked softly. “Are you okay?”

His throat bobbed and he blinked a few times before glancing at you. He tilted his head in the direction of the Sidra. “Let’s go,” he said, voice cold. You frowned. “We’re going to be late.”

He stalked off in the direction of the River House, and you had to hurry to match his pace. You watched him closely for a moment, taking in the twitching of his jaw and the agitated shadows that pulsed around him. His hands were clenched into tight fists, and when you reached for his wrist his whole body locked up.

You quickly dropped your hand, and tried to suppress the flare of hurt that erupted at his reaction to your touch. He stopped on the street, looking at you expectantly. You wetted your lips, searching for the words that you had wanted to say. “What’s wrong?” you asked softly.

He clenched his jaw and started walking away again. Your nostrils flared as you followed him, irritation replacing your hurt. “Azriel,” you snapped, voice demanding his attention.

He halted again, and turned to look at you. His eyes were cold and sharp, and you frowned at the absence of his usual warmth around you. “Tell me why you’re upset,” you prodded, voice more gentle.

His eyes bounced between yours, and you braced yourself for his rejection, for him to tell you to fuck off and mind your own business. Instead he shocked you by gritting out, “She was afraid of me.”

Your brows furrowed. “Who? The little girl?”

He nodded tersely. “And her mother.”

“Az,” you said in disbelief, the nickname slipping from your lips. “Of course the girl was scared of you, at first. You’re an Illyrian warrior. You’re naturally intimidating.”

He scowled at your words and you hurried to continue. “But as soon as you showed her kindness, she trusted you. She practically clung to you, Azriel. You made her feel safe.”

He looked down at his hands, at the scarred tissue covering them. “She held onto your hand for dear life, because she knew you were good. She knew you would take care of her.”

His face softened slightly and his shoulders dropped. “Her mother was distraught and frantic looking for her little girl, and then she found her in the arms of a member of her High Lord’s court,” you continued softly, taking a step closer. His hazel eyes locked with yours. “She was shocked, and intimidated, yes, but she wasn’t afraid you would hurt her or her daughter. I guarantee it.”

Azriel’s breath caught in his throat as you took another step closer, only inches separating you. You swallowed your nerves, needing him to hear this, to understand. “You are a good male, Azriel.” Your voice was whisper soft and laced with reverence.

A shadow brushed your hand as his chest moved with his heavy breaths. He looked at you like you were a puzzle, an enigma he couldn’t figure out. He pulled his gaze away, murmuring a quiet, “Thank you.” Then he turned and started walking in the direction of the River House again.

Your shoulders deflated and you let out a disappointed sigh. You trailed behind him, the words I love you swimming in your head, begging to reach the sullen male just a few feet in front of you.

~ ~ ~

A generous slice of chocolate cake appeared in front of you. Your eyes trailed from the cake to the scarred hand that held the plate up the eyes of the male offering it to you. Your brows furrowed in confusion, but you took the cake nonetheless. You glanced from the cake to Azriel again, who folded his hands behind himself as he towered over where you sat in the oversized armchair.

“Thank you?” You smiled softly. “Was my lust for some cake that obvious?”

Pink tinged his cheeks, and your heart fluttered in your chest. Your friends were all chattering loudly throughout the living room of Rhys and Feyre’s house, but it all faded to a dull buzz as you stared at Azriel.

“I may have caught you looking once or twice,” was his quiet response.

You grinned, then picked up the fork he had rested on the plate for you. You stuffed a too large bite in your mouth, relishing in the taste of the chocolate on your tongue. “I also wanted to apologize,” Azriel said quietly, and his voice made you rush to swallow your food.

“Apologize?”

“For yesterday.”

You frowned. “That’s not necessary.”

“It is,” he argued. “I was rude to you, and you didn’t deserve that.”

“Hardly,” you scoffed. Yes, your feelings had been hurt by his cool demeanor and his aversion to your touch, but that was hardly an offense to hold over his head. “You were upset, Azriel. There’s nothing to apologize for.”

“But—”

“Nope,” you cut him off before taking another bite of your cake. You gestured to the arm of the sofa you were sitting on. “Sit down and share this cake with me.”

Azriel hesitated, but he relented when you cut him a pointed look. He moved to the other side of the chair, sitting precariously on the arm. He shifted around a bit to get comfortable, and in the process his wing brushed against your own, the feeling sending a shiver up your spine. The two of you froze, and he looked at you with alarm before he stood up hastily, “I’m so sorry—”

“Azriel,” you sighed, feigning nonchalance when your entire body felt like it was on fire. “Just sit down. It’s okay.”

His throat bobbed, his wide eyes staring at you before returning to his perch on the arm rest. His wing brushed your arm this time, and he went rigid. “It’s okay,” you said again softly, his eyes locking with yours. 

His mouth opened and closed, and his cheeks were flushed. “I don’t want to make you—”

“You don’t make me uncomfortable,” you assured him. The tension melted away from his body, but you still added, “You don’t have to sit here if you’re uncomfortable, though.”

“I’m not,” he was quick to say, and he settled in a bit more until he was comfortable enough on the plush armrest. He was tall enough that his feet rested flat on the floor, and you knew it probably wasn’t the most comfortable position, but at least he wasn’t just standing and watching you and his family from the side. His wings relaxed slightly, and they brushed yours again lightly.

He watched you carefully, and you forced your face to stay neutral, to not reveal that there was a torrent of butterflies fluttering in your chest. He reached for the fork in your hand, his fingers brushing yours, and your mind was fuzzy from all the physical contact. Even during your training sessions Azriel did his best to refrain from touching you. You knew it was to make you comfortable, to make you feel safe after coming from the Illyrian camps, but sometimes you longed for his touch. Now you were sitting here sharing a piece of cake with him while his wings gently brushed against you.

He raised the fork to his mouth and then handed it back to you, his eyes crinkling slightly in a smile while he chewed his cake. I love you, you thought, and the words sent a strange warmth through you that seemed to settle in your chest. The feeling was strange, and you stared at Azriel a bit awestruck. Home. It felt like you finally were home after searching for one for half a century.

~ ~ ~

“We know you’re in love with Azriel.”

The words clanged through your intoxicated mind as you stared at Nesta and Feyre in the booth across from you. Feyre glared at Nesta, who was looking at you expectantly.

You stammered out a pitiful, “What?”

Nesta rolled her eyes and Feyre’s soft ones landed on you. “By ‘we’ she means her and me. No one else knows.”

Nesta hummed, “That we know of. But if we figured it out…”

You blanched, and Feyre swatted Nesta’s shoulder. “Ignore her,” she told you. Her eyes were soft as they looked over your slightly swaying form in the wooden booth. The music pounding through Rita’s was making you a little nauseous at this point. The throbbing at your back and the alcohol you had downed also wasn’t doing you any favors. You suddenly wished you could winnow.

“Do you really love him?” Feyre asked softly.

Your hands were clammy as you stuffed them beneath your thighs. Your gaze bounced nervously around the tavern, desperate to escape this situation.

“Y/N,” Feyre said softly, dragging your attention back to her. “We’re not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

Nesta’s eyes had considerably softened as she said, “We just want you to talk to us. We’re your friends.”

You bit your lip, anxiety thrumming through you at the thought of admitting your feelings for the Illyrian male aloud. You blamed the alcohol coursing through your veins for answering with, “I’m so in love with him.”

Their eyes widened, then slow smiles broke out across their faces.

The slightly slurred words tumbled out of you. “It’s pathetic how much I love him. But how could I not?” Your eyes were wide as you flung your arms out in exasperation. “How could I possibly be expected to not fall in love with the kind and thoughtful male that took time out his night to train me for months?” you exclaimed. “He’s so beautiful, and intelligent, and gentle.”

Feyre and Nesta were grinning with amusement as you unleashed the torrent of thoughts you had kept pent up about the male for the last six months. “I love him so much it hurts,” you whined, clutching your chest dramatically.

The two sisters shared a glance before Feyre asked slowly, “Have you thought about sharing this with Azriel?”

Your mouth fell open. “Of course not!” you exclaimed.

Nesta frowned. “Why not?”

You faltered. “Why the hell would I?”

Her frown shifted into a scowl. “Maybe he feels the same, Y/N.”

You scoffed. “As if he would ever love me.”

“Why would you say that?” Feyre asked, bewildered.

“Because I’m me! I’m just a poor Illyrian female that he took pity on because he’s kind.”

Nesta’s glare was icy. “You are far more than that to him, to all of us for that matter. You’re our friend, Y/N,” she snapped. You flinched slightly. “If you don’t recognize that, I don’t know what to tell you.”

A tense silence fell on your table. Feyre eventually decided to break it. “Azriel is a good male who loves his family fiercely,” she said softly. “But I’ve never seen him…soften the way he does around you.” 

Nesta nodded her agreement. “He practically glows when he sees you, Y/N.” Then she added with a pointed look, “And vice versa.”

You flushed. You were done with this mortifying conversation for tonight. You had said far too much in far too little time, and it was time for you to go. You might have to sleep on the stairs to the House of Wind if you left without one of your Illyrian male chauffeurs, but we all had to make sacrifices.

You stood up from the booth, a bit unsteady on your feet. “I’ll see you two tomorrow.”

They both protested as you turned and made a beeline for the door. The cool night air was refreshing on your flushed cheeks, and you giggled to yourself as you walked on unsteady feet down the stone street. Gods, you were really drunk.

In some part of your mind, you knew you shouldn’t be walking by yourself in the middle of the night, especially drunk. You were pretty sure any self defense tactics Azriel had taught you had fallen right out of your head tonight. You would be lucky if you could run in a straight line.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of Azriel. He was so beautiful. You missed him. You loved him. That’s what you had told Nesta and Feyre tonight. The reminder turned your stomach sour.

“Y/N.”

You spun around at the sound of your name, wobbling slightly. Your eyes widened and a grin spread across your face at the sight of the male in front of you. “I was just thinking about you!”

Azriel’s eyebrows went up, and an amused smirk stretched his lips. You bet they were soft. “Sweetheart,” Azriel murmured, taking a step closer. “How much did you drink?”

You shrugged, the motion making you sway a little. Azriel quickly reached to stabilize you. His hand on your waist felt electric.

“You were supposed to wait for me to take you home,” he said softly. “Feyre was a bit frantic that you just walked out.”

You blinked. His eyes were so bright under the light of the moon and stars. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

“Did something happen?” he asked, voice gentle. “Why did you just leave?”

You thought about Feyre and Nesta’s interrogation and the word vomit that spewed from your mouth. Even drunk you knew not to tell Azriel that, so you simply shrugged again. You leaned a bit closer to him, exhaustion creeping in. “I’m tired, Az,” you whined.

He chuckled, and you smiled at the sound. “Let’s go,” he said, tucking you into his side. You leaned heavily on him, and you barely noticed your wing touching his. Azriel didn’t mention it either. “I think we should go to the Town House,” he said. “I’m not sure flying or winnowing is the best idea right now.”

You nodded, mumbling out an agreement. Your eyes caught on the bright blue cobalt of his siphon that adorned the hand on your waist. You perked up a bit, grinning. “Hey!” you yelled, startling Azriel a bit. “Your siphon matches my skirt!” You pointed to the cobalt satin that draped down your legs.

Azriel laughed as he continued pulling you along toward the house. “It’s my favorite color,” you babbled. “I’ve always liked blue, but then I saw your blue, and I knew it had to be mine too.”

Azriel squeezed your hip gently. “I’m flattered,” he teased. You knew you were likely talking nonsense, but you grinned at his indulgence.

You continued rambling about anything and everything, with Azriel nodding or humming his acknowledgment. Eventually you reached the Town House, and Azriel guided you through the gate and up the stairs slowly, holding onto you tight. You fell into him a bit once you stood in front of the door. He managed to open it without letting go of you, and then shut it behind him.

The house was warm and smelled like cedar. “I’ve never been here,” you mumbled.

“We usually go to the River House, now” he explained, guiding you to a staircase that made your head swim. “But I still stay here a lot, to get some peace.”

Azriel. It smelled like Azriel. You clumsily stepped for the first stair, missing it completely. You would have collided with the floor if not for Azriel hanging on to you. “I think I’ll just stay here,” you murmured, moving to slide out of his hold, but he held you up firmly.

“You’re not sleeping on the floor,” he grumbled. “Let me carry you up?”

You certainly had no protests. Azriel scooped you up effortlessly then started climbing up the stairs. You rested your head on his chest, closing your eyes as you listened to his heartbeat. I love you, you thought, then, remembering Nesta and Feyre’s claims, Do you love me?

Warmth bloomed in your chest, and you nuzzled into his neck. He pushed open a door that led to a bedroom that smelled even more like him. He sat you down on the edge of the massive bed. “Is this your room?” you asked.

He nodded. “You can sleep in here. The other guest rooms don’t have beds as big. I’ll sleep in Rhys’s old room.”

You nodded, a bit dazed. You winced as a particularly sharp pain shot from the middle of your back and through your wing.

“What is it?” Azriel asked worriedly.

Your eyes burned a bit as you started to recognize the pain again. “I think I hurt my wing,” you whimpered.

“What?” he asked, alarm clear in his voice. “When?”

“Today,” you whispered. “I went to the beach and fell down some rocks.”

“Did you clean them?”

You shook your head. “Couldn’t reach.”

“Well then did you go to a healer?” he asked, exasperated.

You grimaced, shaking your head again. “I don’t like healers.” You didn’t like anyone touching your wings. 

Azriel sucked in a sharp breath. A beat passed. “I know healers in Illyria can be…inconsiderate,” he settled on, voice dripping with disdain. His voice softened then, “But Madja, our family healer, is incredibly kind and gentle. Everyone in her practice is. She’s worked on all of our wings many times.”

You were trembling, the idea of him making you go see a healer right now, when you were drunk and vulnerable—you couldn’t. “Please,” you rasped, “please don’t make me.”

His eyes were so soft as he said, “They need cleaned, sweetheart.”

“You can clean them,” you rushed out. His eyes went wide, but you continued on, “Please? I trust you, more than anyone. I just, I can’t—”

He shushed you softly as he reached to wipe a tear from your cheek. “Okay,” he agreed. “I’ll do my best.”

You relaxed instantly, sinking into the bed. “Lay down for me,” he murmured. “I’ll be right back.”

You did as he said, laying down on your stomach with your head resting on Azriel’s pillows that wrapped you in his comforting scent. He returned quickly, the bed sinking as he sat down beside you. “Can I,” he paused, “Can I touch?”

You nodded against the pillows, a mumbled yes escaping your lips. Azriel gently undid the slats of your sweater, his fingertips brushing your sensitive skin at the base of your wings. You shivered, and he stilled. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Yeah,” you rasped.

He continued his examination, then said, “I think it’s just the right one. The left looks fine.”

He gently prodded the base of the left and then did the same to the right, the motion making you hiss. He apologized, then told you, “These scrapes are still raw, Y/N.”

“Ever since they clipped my wings,” you murmured, “They don’t heal as fast as they should. I don’t know why.”

Azriel’s silence was loud. He rustled around with whatever supplies he collected, and you heard the light sloshing of water. “I’m going to clean them now,” he murmured softly. “Okay?”

You nodded, and he gently ran a warm, damp cloth over the wounds. You tensed from the burning that spread through your wing, but his gentle movements made it bearable. He then unscrewed a cap from a small tin, and told you, “This is a healing balm Madja gave me. It should speed up the healing and dull the pain.”

You nodded and closed your eyes as his gentle fingers spread the salve over your wounds. You let out a sigh of relief as the salve seeped in, quickly taking effect. “Do you have pain anywhere else?”

“I don’t think so,” you mumbled, mind still swimming from the alcohol and now the relief of your pain.

“Can I check?”

“Be my guest,” you said, voice muffled into the pillow.

Azriel gently skimmed his fingers up and along the ridge of your wing, following it all the way to the talon at the tip. Goosebumps littered your skin and you held your breath as he made his careful ministrations. Never had you let anyone touch your wings like this. The sensations were glorious and vulnerable all at once, and you thought you would stay there forever if you could, with Azriel gently stroking your wing in the comfort of his bed.

His fingers brushed against an especially sensitive area of the inner membrane, and a soft moan escaped you. Azriel froze, and you tensed once you realized what you did. “Did that hurt?” he asked worriedly.

You bit your lip, cheeks hot with mortification. “No,” you choked out.

“Oh.” You swore there was a faint shift in his scent, but your muddled mind couldn’t decipher it. “I think the rest of your wing is okay,” he said, voice strangled. “We’ll check your wounds tomorrow.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, your embarrassment quickly being overcome with exhaustion.

“You don’t need to thank me,” he said softly. “Do you want to change your clothes?”

You shook your head, nestling into the silk covered pillows. You were so comfortable. Your pain was gone, you were surrounded by the scent of the male you loved, and sleep was quickly beckoning to you.

You heard him chuckle softly, and then felt him gently remove your shoes from your feet. He draped a blanket over you, and you thought you might be dreaming as he tenderly brushed your hair behind your ear. “Get some sleep, my love.”

You were definitely dreaming.

~ ~ ~

I love you.

“I love you.”

You went still as death, yanking Azriel to a halt. The music from downstairs continued to flow around you, and your one hand was still resting in his while your other was on his shoulder. “What did you just say?” you asked breathlessly.

He gave you a sheepish smile, his cheeks tinting an adorable pink. He lowered your hands, but didn’t let go, his other staying put on your waist. His hazel eyes reflected the glowing spirits that shot across the sky as he looked at you reverently. “I love you,” he said again.

You shook your head, baffled. “You can’t—”

He lifted your hand to his chest, holding your palm over his heart. “Listen to me,” he said gently. “I love you. This—” He squeezed your hand. “This is yours. My heart is yours.”

Your eyes started to sting as tears pooled in them. You were still shaking your head when he squeezed your hand again, and a familiar warmth flooded your chest. “I need you to listen to me,” he cooed. His breath gently danced across your face as his shadows stroked against your neck. “I need you to feel me,” he begged. Your eyes widened at what he was implying, and he smiled slightly.

His own eyes shined as he continued talking, “A couple weeks ago, I went to Nesta for advice.” He swallowed and took a breath. “I told her I found my mate.” Your head was spinning. The world was tilting. “And that I was in love with her. I asked her–” He let out a shaky breath. “I asked her how to get my mate to fall in love with me.”

Your lip was wobbling as you listened intently, and he lifted his hand from your waist to wipe your tears from your cheeks. He chuckled softly. “She laughed at me. I was baffled, really. I couldn’t fathom what she thought was so funny about my turmoil, until she assured me that my mate was already in love with me.”

His hand drifted back to your waist before slowly curling around your lower back. You leaned in closer, unaware you were even doing it. He leaned down so that his cheek brushed against yours, and he was talking softly into your ear. He started gently swaying the two of you to the music again, as he said, “I didn’t believe her, not at first. I didn’t understand how she could possibly know who my mate was, let alone know that she was in love with me.” You let out a shaky breath. “But last week, when I took you home from Rita’s, and I carried you up the stairs? You were practically shouting your thoughts at me across the bond, and I felt it. I felt your love, and I felt your doubt of mine, and it nearly crippled me.”

Nesta’s little intervention that night made more sense now. Your lingering irritation over that whole ordeal withered away with Azriel’s confession, and it was replaced with gratitude for the meddling female. Azriel’s voice drew you back to him, “I knew I couldn’t say anything then, but I tried to push my love for you down the bond, to ease your doubts and anxieties. Then you let me…you trusted me to take care of you, and I knew I had to tell you how I felt, that I wanted you in my bed, letting me take care of you for the rest of my life.”

A soft sob broke free from your lips, and you leaned back to meet Azriel’s own silver-lined eyes. “I love you,” you whispered. The words you had been thinking for months finally out in the open. Azriel smiled at you in awe. “I love you so much. I never thought—not once did I think you could ever love me—”

He pulled you in close, leaning his forehead against yours. “Please don’t say that,” he pleaded, voice anguished. “You are the most beautiful person, inside and out, that I have ever met in my five centuries on this planet. You make me feel warm, and you make me feel safe. You make me feel at peace, and I’ve never had that.”

“Neither have I,” you admitted shakily. “Until I met you.”

Azriel gazed at you adoringly before his hands came up to cup your face. His eyes flicked down to your lips before returning to your eyes, and you gave the tiniest nod before he pressed his lips to yours. All of the love you felt for each other was put into the kiss, the two of you savoring the taste and feel of each other. Your lips moved slowly against his, relishing in this moment, in the warmth that filled your body. You finally recognized that warmth for what it was, the mating bond tying your two souls together, the glow of your love for each other a living, breathing thing.

You broke apart, chests heaving. You stared into his warm honey gaze, your insides melting at the vision of this beautiful male, your beautiful mate. “I love you,” you breathed.

Azriel brushed his nose against yours, his hands still cupping your face. “I know,” he whispered back, and then pressed another tender kiss to your lips. “And I love you.”

You glanced at the crowd of people dancing down below, then looked back at him. Heat flooded you, and his darkening eyes said the feeling was mutual. “Do you want to go somewhere more private?” you asked quietly, a bit nervous.

He pressed a kiss to the skin below your ear, and you shivered at the delightful sensation. “I plan to keep you to myself for weeks,” he growled into your ear. The next thing you knew, he scooped you up in his arms, flying up and out of the House’s wards, and then winnowed the two of you far, far away from the prying eyes and ears of Velaris.

~ ~ ~

a/n: thank you to everyone who has been supporting my writing and sharing such kind words. I know I don't do well at answering comments, but I do see them, and they mean so much.

I've decided to try taking requests, so if you have an idea for a fic, feel free to send it along. I'm fairly busy and writing is my way to decompress, so I can't promise that I will write it nor that I will write it quickly, but please don't hesitate to send me your ideas.

[riddlesb1tch]

OMGGGGGG HIIIII ILY HOW ARE YOU

HEYYYY TINKERBELL!!! I’m chilling hbu??? how’ve u been??? ILY POOKIE 💙💙💙

[riddlesb1tch]

Just a casual convo between y/n and az

(Y/N): I wanna wake up with you for the rest of my life

Azriel: I wake up at 5 am

(Y/N): I wanna see you at some point during the day for the rest of my life

[riddlesb1tch]

Feyre: kiss, marry, avoid: Azriel, cassian and rhysand

Y/n: oh simple! avoid cass and rhys and marry and kiss az. just like everyday life!

cass and Rhys: *offended*

az: *proud*

[riddlesb1tch]

hellooooooo! I read yell and flight and let me tell u I was HOOKED. I cannot get fran off my mind the way this man is!!! It’s driving me wild and it’s barely been abt a week or two seeing him all over my socials👩🏻‍🦯‍➡️ I was wondering if you are still taking reqs obviously for fran? I know deep down in my bones that this man is so clingy like physically so maybe like him hugging the reader a lot like alot all the time, like long cuddle sessions just talking abt life?

xxxxxxx thx in advance

SEVEN TIMES WHEN FRANCO COULDN'T KEEP HIS HANDS TO HIMSELF - FC43

listen up : no warnings just some kissing!! this is cute so i hope you enjoy <3 franco x girlfriend!reader

word count : 1249

⋆｡‧˚⋆

When I first started dating Franco, it was obvious that his love language was physical touch. Back then however, I didn’t know how much he depended on it.

⋆༺

1. I’ve never been more excited for Franco than I was at that first race in Monza. As soon as I could, I ran to him.

He was still in his race suit, grinning that stupid smile that I so love. He was sweaty and gross and I couldn’t be happier.

“Corazón…” He wrapped his arms around me, resting his head on my shoulder even as I jumped up and down.

“I’m so proud of you!” I pulled him tighter, his curls brushing my face. “That was so sick!” I pushed him back to move my hands while I spoke but his hand stayed on my waist.

He let me recount his own race back to him as he just stared at me dreamily, “I’m glad you enjoyed it.” He laughed and pulled me in again, kissing me this time.

People cheered and whistled as I smiled against Franco’s lips. He kept that same hand on me all day, holding me close as if the two hours he was racing for was time lost for us.

He never cared who was watching, as long as I was in his arms, nothing else mattered.

⋆༺

2. “Let’s stay here.” He mumbled into my skin, laying completely on top of me with his face on my stomach.

I laughed, running my hands through his hair, “We have to go Fran… You were the one who said we would!” He frowned up at me when I took my hands from his hair.

I slipped my hands back through his waves and he smiled happily again, wrapping his arms tighter around my waist.

I look at his arms flexing against me, “Darling…”

He frowned up at me again, making me laugh and having to physically push him off of me, “Ay no…” He groaned as I stood, smoothing out my skirt.

“Come on!” I had to walk out the door just to get Franco out of the room.

⋆༺

3. We were at a charity gala and I felt like a genuine magnet. A magnet that only attracts Franco's hands. I smirked at him, “Like what you see?” I spun around in my red dress that hit right before my black heels, his hands staying on me as I turned around.

His gaze dragged up my body, nodding silently. Franco is never silent. He gave my waist a little squeeze before kissing my cheek and pulling me into his side.

The whole night, the only time he left my side was when I went to the restroom. He was waiting with drinks when I got back, I can’t help but smile at his stupid face that looks way too happy to be buying things for me.

We ended up talking to Lando and his date, she was definitely a model and honestly I don’t know if he even knew her name. When the girl left, Lando eyed us both, “You’re making me look bad!” He ran his hand through his curls as I rested my head on Franco’s shoulder.

“Not my fault that you don’t like your date!” Franco argued and Lando pulled his lips into a thin line.

“I like her just fine! You two are just disgustingly affectionate.”

⋆༺

4. “I’m just having a hard time, Franco!” I sat on the couch, my head in my hands. We’d been fighting like this for an hour and getting nowhere.

He paced in front of me, turning to me and placing his hand on my chin so I would look up.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered as tears ran down my face, sinking to his knees, “I’m so sorry… I know you though. You can get through this.” His hands moved up the outside of my thighs, holding me tight like he always does.

⋆༺

5. I could practically feel Franco’s gaze burning a hole into the man across from me’s head.

He started over to us as soon as he saw the man take a step closer. He cleared his throat, placing his hand on the small of my back as he smiled at the man.

Franco leaned closer to me and the man left in an instant. I smiled softly at him, raising a brow, “Possessive, much?”

He sipped his drink, “With you? Always.”

⋆༺

6. “You look delicious.” I laugh out loud as he says it in my ear, I turn and swat his chest. The club music was loud and the lights were even brighter.

“Franco.” He knows he’s gotten to me, a smirk prominently on his face as he takes my hand in his and pulls me gently out of the crowd.

We make it to the bathroom, one stall, before Franco has his hands on my ass and his mouth on mine. “Needy.” I mumbled into his mouth.

“No shit, have you seen yourself?” I laughed as he pushed me up against the wall, his hand slipping below the hem of my blue dress.

He slips his tongue in my mouth, cupping my face and holding onto my waist tightly. I sometimes forget he’s an actual athlete until he brings his strength into the bedroom. Or in this case… the club bathroom.

⋆༺

7. Franco sat between my legs, my hands in his hair as he intently listened to the football match that was playing.

He's talking about some of the players but I'm busy braiding his hair which is quite hard given the length.

He moved his hands away from his water bottle that he was fidgeting with, playing them on my ankles and making me shiver. His touch is effortless and sometimes I think he doesn’t even realize because he was definitely focused on the game.

His hands slid upwards, brushing over my calf then back down. He repeated this for five minutes until I finished with his partially braided hair.

The game was still playing as he slid his fingers up my legs once more, making me shiver. He didn’t even realize until I pushed my hands over his and his head leaned back to look at me.

He smiled and kissed my hand, turning around and kneeling in front of me.

I watched his muscles move as he extended his arms to wrap around my waist. He looked up at me, his green eyes shining while his hair looked like a mess. “Are you excited for today?” We were in his drivers room, his suit unzipped.

“Yes. Because you’re here.” His hand rubbed against my face softly, like he wanted to memorize every part of me.

“Do you get nervous?”

“Of course. I don’t want to mess up when you’re were.” I frowned at his words, caressing his neck.

“I don’t care what you do, love… as long as you’re safe.” He sighed and laid his head on my knees.

“You that worried?” I nodded. “I don’t want you to be.”

“Well I’m your girlfriend and it’s my job because you chose a job where your life is in danger every weekend.” He laughed at my sarcastic tone, shaking his head and kissing my knee.

“I like that you care. But I promise you corazón, you cannot get rid of me that easily.” He kissed me softly, I kissed him back.

[riddlesb1tch]

Imagine that you and Azriel are cuddling. His head is resting on your chest, his arms are tightly wrapped around your waist, and your hands are aimlessly exploring the expanse of his back, feeling the toned muscles and his soft skin. 

“Y/n?” Azriel asks, turning to face you. He rests his chin on your chest, turning to you with those honeyed eyes filled with love and adoration. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Anything,” you say with a smile. 

“Why did you choose me?” he asks with slight vulnerability but also genuine curiosity in his voice. 

“Like choose to date you?” you ask. He nods in confirmation. “Because the first time I saw you, I thought you were the most handsome male I’d ever seen, and so I came to talk to you.” Azriel slightly blushes at that. “Then when you spoke to me, I thought you were incredibly fascinating, and so I kept asking you questions. And when I spoke, you patiently listened, and I thought ‘I can speak to him forever.’ And then you told me you liked me, and I thought I was the most special female in Prythian,” you reminisce with a smile. 

“You are,” Azriel affirms. 

“And then we had our first date where you were so adorable, because you were so shy and blushing the entire time, and I thought ‘I wanna hold this beautiful man and hide him away from everything bad in the world’.” 

You feel Azriel’s heart rate increase at that sentence, his hold tightening ever so slightly, and the look in his shifts from adoration to devotion, a profound sense of love and awe for the female he was lucky enough to call his. 

“And then?” he asks in a raspy voice full of emotion. 

“And then the first three months of our relationship happened, and I thought ‘I have never met a more perfect male in my life.’ And then the next six months happened and I thought ‘I wanna be with this male for as long as I live’,” you conclude, smiling at the beautiful male who looked awe-struck by you. If you had never known what a loving, devoted gaze looked like, Azriel’s gaze right then was the perfect example. 

“How am I worthy enough of you?” he asks finally. 

“You’re a pretty terrific male, shadowsinger. Don’t underestimate what you’re worthy of,” you say, kissing his lips.

[riddlesb1tch]

Safe In Your Arms

Azriel x reader

Summary: idk what this is tbh but it’s fluffy and very very very adorable and ik you won’t be sorry!

warnings: none!

Azriel nuzzled his head into the curve of your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. You tightened your arms around him, feeling the solid weight of him on top of you, grounding you in a way that felt both familiar and deeply comforting. As you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, he let out a low hum of contentment, his fingers gliding gently along the length of your sides, tracing invisible patterns on your skin.

“Azzie?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He shifted slightly as he replied with a soft murmur of curiosity.

“Do you feel loved?” you asked, your heart swelling with the vulnerability of the moment.

You felt the gentle curve of his smile against your skin as he answered, “Yes.” The warmth of his breath sent a thrill through you, and you brushed your lips against his cheek.

“Do you feel appreciated?” you continued, your fingers now caressing his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles ease under your touch.

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just below your ear, the intimacy of the gesture making you shiver. “Yes,” he replied, his voice a low murmur that vibrated through your body. He buried his nose against the length of your neck, inhaling deeply.

A light giggle escaped your lips as his breath tickled your skin, and you instinctively hugged him tighter, wanting to shield him from all the world’s chaos. “Do you feel happy?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with affection.

Azriel lifted his head to meet your gaze, his deep, shadowy eyes reflecting a mix of joy and contentment. “I do, my love. Where is this coming from?” he asked, curiosity in his expression.

You smiled warmly, your heart fluttering at his gaze. “Just making sure I’m doing my part right,” you replied shyly.

He grinned at you, his lips finding yours in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, his expression was soft, almost reverent. “You’re doing your part more than perfectly.” He nudged his nose against yours in assurance.

Contentment settled within you, and you felt the weight of the world lifting, if only for a moment. “Do you feel safe?” you asked, your tone shifting slightly, the gravity of the question sinking in.

Azriel took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against yours, and you could feel the tension seep away with his exhale. “There’s no place in the world that makes me feel safer,” he said, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

A wave of warmth flooded your chest at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling cherished and secure in this little sanctuary you had created together. “Good,” you whispered, running your fingers through his dark hair, each strand silky and soft under your touch. “Because I want you to always feel that way.”

He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look deeply into your eyes, searching for sincerity. “You make that easy,” he replied earnestly.

[riddlesb1tch]

what I wouldn’t give to make this a reality 😩

FELLOW FRANCO LOVERS RISE!!

Ok I’m not good at making requests but I think it would be cute if one of the interviewers wears an Argentina jersey and Franco is blushing and yapping in the media pen (and then he posts about it a million times like his handshake w Lewis)

good journalism ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ - franco colapinto

a/n: YES FRANCO LOVERS JOIN MEE i honestly love writing fics for this flirty little shit pls send more requests like this one eee it was so cute w/c: 922

It's all for the sake of good journalism.

At least, that's what you kept telling yourself - and all the other interviewers who were questioning why you were sporting an Argentina kit to a race that was being held in Singapore. Watching, buried in a hoard of other photographers and journalists, the race drew to a close and suddenly the crowd around you sprung into action. As drivers started trickling in, with tired expressions - some happy, others not, you resigned yourself to waiting. It was pretty clear you were only here for one.

He spots you as soon as he enters the media area, even though you're concealed by about a dozen other people. You watch as his eyes light up at the sight of the familiar blue and white fabric and he beelines towards you, ignoring the sound of others calling his name.

"Hello," he says, breathlessly with a beaming smile - you chalk the flush in his cheeks up to having just finished a race.

"Hi!" you spring immediately into interview mode, listing off question after question about the race. He answers them all as earnestly as he can, and the entire time you're watching him with an awe-struck look. The clamour and sound of camera flashes around you are drowned out as the two of you talk, and before you realise it you've forgotten you're conducting an interview and not just having a conversation.

"Well that's all the questions I had prepared, good job out there today, you did amazing!" you say, fully aware that you're gushing at this point but you're relieved when he offers you an earnest smile.

"Nice shirt," he points out, and you realise suddenly how keen he is to keep talking. You laugh, a little shy at being so openly acknowledged.

"I knew you'd like it!"

"Who's on the back?" he asks curiously and you turn around to show him, "Ah, Lionel of course, a woman after my own heart." You chuckle softly as he places a hand over his chest. There's a beat of silence when you honestly think he's about to leave but then he leans in a little closer.

"Blue looks good on you, maybe a Williams shirt next time?" He says it so casually it takes you a while to take in what he's saying - and to realise how boldly he's flirting with you.

"Ah," you let out, though it's more of a gasp than words, "I'll have to talk to your merch department about that."

"I'll be waiting," he beams, giving you a sly little nod before disappearing back into his garage. It's only once he's gone do you realise how sore your cheeks are from smiling non-stop. Letting out a shaky breath, slightly overwhelmed by how well that interaction went, you turn around to snake your way back through the crowd. You try to avoid eye contact with anyone but the other camerapeople only smile at you knowingly, and you can only hope some of them got good enough photos for you to remember this moment by.

It's only once you get back to your hotel room and open up your phone do you realise just how many pictures had been taken of the two of you - and how many of them were far better than 'good enough'. In one the two of you are deep in conversation, your brows furrowed in a frankly un-flattering way, him as perfect as ever. In another, you're both laughing, about what you're not entirely sure, but just looking at the photo makes your heart flutter. Your favourite by far though, is one where you're looking down at your notebook trying desperately to remember the questions you had wanted to ask him. There's a childish pout at your lips that you cringe at - but what makes it your favourite is the look on Franco's face as he watches you, cheeks flushed as his lips curl subtly at the corners.

You don't seem to be alone in this opinion either - at least, that's what you've deduced from the half a dozen times Franco has posted it. Clicking through his stories, you're taken aback by the fact that he posted more about your interaction than him scoring points - the photo of the two of you even becomes the cover of his post dedicated to the weekend. Looking at the post you're not even bothered by the hundreds and hundreds of comments speculating what's going on between you two. Instead, your attention is captured by the caption he's added to it - "A race weekend to remember, for more reasons than one."

It's a little corny, and you let out a soft chuckle as you scroll through the rest of his page shamelessly, though you're sure not to like any of his posts for fear of letting on too much. The two of you spoke once, and if you're being completely honest you're a little embarrassed to still be thinking about him at this moment.

Just as you're about to set your phone down though, it chimes with. a notification that makes your eyes widen - a follow request from none other than the man of the hour. The rational part of you begins questioning how he managed to find your profile or the professional concerns of a journalist and driver following each other. These concerns however do little to slow you down as you race to hit accept because at that moment the only thing you can think about is one thing - that he's thinking of you too.

[riddlesb1tch]

i like you a lot

I like u more 😌💙

[riddlesb1tch]

heyy, how are you?? i just wanted to say, i love you and your writing. you are one of the best people i have come across and i love you. if you ever feel bad about your writing, just know that only you can put that story out tHere so NEVER GIVE UP!! hehe okay bye ily 🤭😘

HEYYYYY IM GOOD HOW R U?????? I’m so sorry I didn’t respond sooner I haven’t been on here in a whileeeee

THANK YOU SO SO MUCH FOR THAT ANNNNN I REALLY NEEDED IT UR SUCH AN ANGEL AND I FEEL SO LUCKY THAT I KNOW U THANK YOUU ILYYY 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙