#silver's fics

[screamsinsilver]

won't you cleanse me with pleasure

jesse cash / noah sebastian, 965 words, rated explicit

jesse gets the hots watching noah perform that's it that's the fic

read on ao3

[silverscripts]

I thought the plane was going down, how'd you turn it right around

pairing: Lockwood & Lucy summary: Lucy gets stood up on a date, so Lockwood tries to make her feel better. word count: 4.8k

[cloudcountry]

since you guys liked my idea so much here it is: WAYS THE NRC BOYS WOULD MAKE YOU WORSE

reader's personality is based more off of in-game yuu than anything? this set of hcs is a bunch of hypotheticals basically. this can be read as platonic or romantic idk each guy is written as if they are the closest person to you, friends or otherwise.

IF YOU SEE A TYPO NO YOU DONT

mentally preparing myself for the "i wouldnt do that!!!!!" comments...and post.

Riddle increases your attentiveness to the rules tenfold. No matter how meek you are, he makes your voice strong—and oh boy does it carry. You’re yelling at people for running in the halls, chastising them for not doing their homework, and opening your mouth wider when you speak. For a school full of troublemakers like Night Raven, the entire student body is so disappointed there’s another Riddle.

Trey makes you more passive, less likely to speak up when you see something. He’s always stood back in the shadows, watching over everything without saying a word, and it’s seeped into your personality, too. You’re spineless now. This world is unfamiliar, why should you try to do anything? You’d only stand out. You don’t want to be outstanding. You want to be as normal as possible. So you stand back.

Cater gets you wrapped up in the hype of social media. It started out as a way to indulge his interests but now you’re on Magicam all day, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling. You send things to your friends and say “hey, we should do this” but never make any actual effort to connect with them outside of that. You fall easier into jealousy because you’re surrounded by glamor.

Deuce makes you reckless. He’s so willing to throw himself into things and it spurs you to do the same, no matter how many times your teachers or potential upperclassmen tell you not to. You can’t hear anything but Deuce and his yelling, his enthusiasm and terror for whichever situation you two find yourselves in, knowing that you’d follow him anywhere.

Ace makes you all the more prickly, your sharp jabs and irritating smugness a product of spending too much time with him. You two are two peas in a pod, but to an outsider you two just seem...irritating. You have a talent for getting under people’s skin and have definitely gotten better at lying.

Leona thinks its so cute how you try to defend him at every twist and turn. Like no, he is as dastardly as everyone is saying. Why are you trying to deny it? You’re suddenly seeing reason in the most massive ego-ed people this side of Sage Island and Leona honestly doesn’t know if he should be concerned for you or be amused because of you. (This one in particular was inspired by @loser-jpg LMAO)

Ruggie could have made you prioritize yourself more, but you think he took it a bit too far. See, now you’re snatching cafeteria items and worksheets right under people’s noses, giggling as they demand you give it back. Sometimes they don’t even notice you, but even if they did you’ve learned how to be lighter on your feet.

Jack and you are incredibly uncooperative people (unless you owe someone, of course.) He’s guided you away from asking for help, insisting that the people here will take advantage of you then turning around to say that he doesn’t care, he just doesn't want to get wrapped up in your mess. It’s like you can’t trust anyone but him and your Heartslabyul friends anymore.

Azul has given you one nasty sense of perception, allowing you to key into every little detail and find loopholes in the things people say in a second. He’s turned you into a deadly asset, one he treasures just as much as the student body fears. You read over his contracts and point out what you would do to get out of them, and he adjusts accordingly. What a fine team you two make!

Jade makes it clear that his morals are less than savory, and will often encourage you to partake in things you really shouldn't. You rationalize it as Jade helping you go after the things you want, to finally take and take and take from people when you’ve been so selfless all your life, because it's what you deserve isn’t it?

Floyd will often rope you into his schemes, and it's not wrong before you start doing the same. Once a model student, attending every class, you now skip class and watch with amusement as Floyd threatens another student, hiding your smile behind your hand. They may plead for your assistance, but who are you to stop Floyd? This poor soul clearly owed something.

Kalim instills you with a sense of jealousy and helplessness. He has money to solve all of his problems, his life must be so easy. You’ve lived through so many overblots and received no help from anyone, but Kalim has always been so kind and generous to you. It makes you resent him a little, and anyone else who tries to help, because they all have things that you don’t and that's just not fair.

Jamil twists and bends your mind so much that you can do the very same thing to others. You’ve caught onto his little game and he knows it, eyeing you with anticipation whenever you speak in the same honeyed tone he uses when he wants something. You’ve gotten scarily good at hiding it too, shooting him a smug grin because you know he knows, but nobody else does.

Vil brings out so much confidence in your abilities it’s borderline arrogance. You know you’re capable, so why doesn’t everyone just let you handle this? You can do it, they can’t. So they should just step aside. You’re not doing it to be mean, so why are they getting so annoyed at you? You’re just better.

Rook has some eccentricities, and you’re well aware of them. They put you off at first, but now you’re used to him. It just seems normal now. You’re not sure why everyone makes such a big deal out of his tendencies, that’s just how he is. He’ll stalk you, hunt you down, but he’s having fun! Don’t spoil it for him!

Epel is actually the perfect fit for NRC, you think. He’s a troublemaker, he’s stubborn, and he’s so, so angry. But he’s right! Why should you respect people who claim to be above you? It’s so irritating that they walk around with those annoying smirks on their faces. You two should do something about that, don’t you think?

Idia has a very specific way of talking that can not only be confusing, but can also irritate the hell out of people. Of all things you could pick up from him, you picked up his smug jabs and insults, accompanied by a tooth grin and a laugh. It’s unnerving how much he’s rubbed off on you, a true testament to how close you too are much to the chagrin of the rest of NRC.

Malleus finds so much delight in being your bodyguard, your most trusted companion, that he doesn’t even bat an eye when you use his magic for your own gain. You’ve gotten soft, molding to whatever shape Malleus wants you to be just so he won’t leave. You’re helpless without him, only he has the will and the magic to protect you. So won’t he please stay?

Lilia has a way of dodging the truth, putting a smile on his face even when he’s hurting. It makes you think that, if he can do that, why can’t you? Lilia is smart, he knows how to go about life, so you should follow his lead and bury your problems until they’ll never see the light again.

Sebek has done nothing but berate you for being human since you met him, and even if you’ve gotten closer to him over the course of your stay in Twisted Wonderland, you’re starting to think he’s right. If you had magic, if you weren’t human, you’d be more powerful. It’s a fact. You could do so much more if you weren’t so weak.

Silver has made you complacent. He takes each step carefully, protecting both you and Malleus, so why would you need to protect yourself in any capacity? It’s so nice, having this safety net. If you could, you'd rely on Silver forever, never facing the cruel realities of the world that are blocked by his strong arms.

[assriels]

lessons in touch

pairing: azriel x f!reader

summary: azriel’s curiosity and penchant for spying reveals exactly why you’ve been more…enthusiastic in bed lately

word count: 5.8k :0

warnings: smut (not super detailed)!! 18+ mdni pls, az being nosy

a/n: this is one of my faves so far :’) i have this persistent silly headcanon that az is the biggest busybody of them all and that’s why he’s so good at his job

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Sex between you and Azriel was far from boring. It was a well known secret that Azriel had a predilection towards kink and experimentation, so your adventures with him between the sheets never left either of you dissatisfied. Far from it, actually.

Being with him was always pleasurable, wonderful, and unrivaled by any you’d had before him. During girls night, you had always attested to his prowess, said that his skills of observation extended past the battlefield and very much into the bedroom. And his wingspan…you would neither confirm nor deny whether the theory around Illyrian males and their wingspan was true, much to their chagrin, but the mischievous smirk that curled your lips was all they needed to confirm their suspicions.

Azriel was a skilled lover; he knew your ins and outs, understood almost innately how to coax pleasure from you with a simple, well placed brush of his fingers. More often than not, Azriel had you in a puddle on the floor before he could even take his pants off. Which, ordinarily, was a more than welcome skill — you loved how well he knew you, adored how he loved you so much that his brain was like a file cabinet of information about things you liked.

But you’d grown frustrated lately, more and more desiring to reduce Azriel to the same pleasure filled putty that he so often did with you. His composure was infuriatingly ironclad; you knew he felt the same primal, overwhelming desire that you did — such was the nature of the mating bond — but he was much better at masking it.

In short, you wanted to know what made him tick, what made him beg and whimper and plead with you to touch him. You’d been mated for a year now, and while his desire for you never waned, you had yet to find the one thing that made him sink to his knees and beg the way he so easily coaxed you to do for him.

It was no secret that your mate had a bold competitive streak. But your own stubbornness rivaled his own, leading to long, long card game nights and sparring matches — much to everyone else’s entertainment.

Though you knew you had no reason to feel such competitiveness when matters of the bedroom were concerned, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance that Azriel had so easily figured out how to make you squirm in a multitude of ways — with all your cards on the table — while you were still somewhat in the dark about his most favored bedroom inclinations. Azriel kept the secrets of his hand close to his chest.

So you vowed to yourself that you’d figure it out, test his composure to see how exactly to make that beautiful, calm countenance crack. It was like a game, but one you were more than willing to play and even more determined to win.

Ever the observer however, Azriel caught on to the changes in your excitement beneath the sheets, amusement and adoration coursing through his veins as he reveled in your sudden vigor, never shying away from a challenge.

You had been more experimental in your bedroom endeavors as of late, asking him to bend you this way and that, introducing things that he never thought you’d be interested in — not that he was complaining in the slightest. Though your differences were strikingly obvious, Azriel would be lying if he said he wasn’t curious about where your sudden interest in various sexual niches had sprung from.

Initially, it was all fun and games; if you wanted to explore then so be it — he’d match you stroke for stroke every time. But eventually, his nosiness had wedged its way deep into each crevice of his mind until he was all-consumed, curiosity devolving into a burgeoning anxiety.

Was something wrong?

Azriel was positive that if you were bored you would tell him. Had you heard something from one of the others that spurred you to want to explore more? Had you felt as though you had to introduce novelty every time to please him?

You had to have known that was far from the truth; no matter your state, Azriel had always made it clear to you that you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the privilege of knowing, let alone laying with. He didn’t think there was anything wrong…at least not for him. Maybe you felt like something was missing.

“Penny for your thoughts, brother?”

Rhys’s voice snapped him out of his anxious musings. Azriel hadn’t realized that he was pacing so furiously he could have worn a hole through the floor. Both Rhysand and Cassian had been watching with amusement glinting in their eyes. After all, it was a rare sight to see their ordinarily calm and stoic shadowsinger so worked up.

The same poker face Azriel had worn to win countless games of cards against his brothers masked his features now, but the twitch in his brow and the near missable ruffling of his wings were tells that Cassian and Rhysand were well acquainted with.

The shadowsinger had never perfected his stone faced indifference when he was thinking of you.

Cassian ventured a guess, “Have you upset Y/N?”

Cassian had meant to tease, but the way Azriel stayed silent had his eyebrow arching in question. Azriel ignored the curious glance from his brother as his mind ran in circles once more.

Had he upset you? Was your sudden experimentation in bed some roundabout way of telling him that he had done something to hurt you? No, no…that didn’t make sense, he was being illogical.

Or…Had he somehow missed picking up on something that you liked?

Your sudden interest in sexual exploration was far from a problem, but he got the niggling sense that you were up to something, playing a game that he wasn’t privy to. And he wanted in.

Azriel was private by nature, never revealing more of his relationship with you than absolutely necessary to his brothers, not wanting to overshare in fear that he’d fall victim to their incessant teasing. But this…maybe it would be useful to get their opinions about your sudden change in interests? Cassian and Rhys were both mated males afterall, and maybe there was something Azriel was missing. He would never admit it to anyone but himself, but he fell victim to his crippling neuroticism more times than he’d like to. Curiosity and anxiety were two sides of the same coin.

So he indulged and told his brothers of your sudden vigor in bed, enthusiasm to try something new every single time. You’d been insatiable as of late and he didn’t know why; nothing had changed that he knew of and it was concerning him, he couldn’t stand not knowing.

“So,” Rhys started tentatively, narrowing his eyes in confusion, not quite grasping the issue that Azriel was so hesitant to endorse. “Y/N is trying new things in bed.”

And elsewhere, Azriel thought with a ghost of a smile on his lips. He’d leave that part out, though; Rhys probably wouldn’t appreciate knowing the details about the going-ons in the dining room of the townhouse. And the gardens. And the hallways.

“And you’re complaining?” Cassian asked, incredulous, similarly at a loss for his brother’s concern.

“I’m not complaining, Cass,” Azriel groaned and slumped unceremoniously into a chair (much like an irritated school child who’d been caught doing something they weren’t supposed to), immediately regretting his poorly thought out decision to confide in his brothers. “I’m just confused. I don’t know what she wants.”

“Have you considered asking her?” Rhys inquired, infuriatingly teasing smile curving his lips.

Azriel deadpanned and clicked his tongue, not believing that Rhys would assume he was so inept at communicating with his lover, “Of course I’ve asked. She just says nothing’s changed. I believe her, but it’s still bothering me and I don’t know why.”

Both Cassian and Rhys resisted the urge to laugh, mentally conversing about how Azriel’s affections for you often reduced him to an adolescent-like lovesickness, begging and willing to please. Az had been this way since they were children; fiercely competitive and subsequently pouty if he didn’t have the upper hand, always wanting to know and learn everything he could.

This side of the shadowsinger was one that did not make an appearance often, reserving itself until he was around the few he trusted wholeheartedly.

The past couple of centuries saw even less of this endearingly childish and competitive Azriel – even around his closest friends – as Night Court duties and his identity as Spymaster overshadowed most opportunities to be vulnerable in his relationships.

But when you came around, light began to spark beneath the shadowy depths of Azriel’s countenance as you slowly coaxed him to trust and love as fiercely as everyone knew he was capable of, with the reckless abandon that his childhood self so easily embodied.

“Maybe check her nightstand,” Cassian teased with a wink, only half joking, as a quiet happiness bubbled within him at the small glimpses of Azriel’s vulnerability. “Some of Nesta’s best kept secrets are hidden there.”

Before Azriel could furrow his brow and chastise his brother for snooping through his mate’s belongings, a realization hit him.

Nesta.

You had been spending an awfully large amount of time with the eldest Archeron sister in the library lately, choosing to hole up there in lieu of your other hobbies when you weren’t training or engaging in your various other Night Court duties.

But Nesta would be a dead end. There was no way he could approach her without tipping you off to his secret sleuthing. Though he and Nesta were friends, her loyalties laid with you; there was an unexplainable female camaraderie between you – a chosen sisterhood, if you will – and if he asked if she knew anything about what was going on, she’d go running to you, mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

The conversation with his brothers was about as helpful as he initially thought it would be, and he let himself succumb to their jokes about how wrapped around your finger he was. Azriel had endured it graciously, knowing better than anyone that they were right, that he was indeed wrapped so tightly around your little finger that he was unsure of where he ended and you began. That he would gratefully stay in the palm of your hand for as long as you would allow.

But that night, after you had told him not to wait up for you because you’d be having drinks with Feyre and Mor, Cassian’s voice reverberated insistently in his mind.

Check her nightstand…best kept secrets…

Azriel resisted the urge to snoop for all of ten minutes before his inherent nosiness clouded his judgment and got the better of him; afterall, his love for secrets is what made him such an effective spymaster. Before he knew it, he was rolling onto your side of the bed, inquisitive hands pulling open your bedside drawer.

Hidden among the small stack of books he had given you was a thick novel with a cover he recognized, but gave no second thought.

It was a book you said Nesta had lent you. When he asked if you liked it you said it was “only okay” and that you’d let him know if he should read it when you were finished. Despite your lukewarm review, however, it had never left your side, and he had found you on more than one occasion cozied up with it in your hands, cheeks dusted with a heat he knew all too well.

Azriel was well aware of the content of the books Nesta favored, often lending a reluctant ear to a whiny Cassian whenever she paid more attention to her books than him.

But there was no way your sudden excitement for novelty in the bedroom could be inspired by Nesta’s smutty recommendations…right? He leafed through, assessing hazel eyes quickly skimming the paragraphs, catching glimpses of the prose that had you so enraptured.

Azriel felt the back of his neck heat.

It was smut, as he assumed. But this was truly…filth. Pure, unadulterated, filthy smut.

Azriel was a lover of all books, never having been one to categorize or judge them by popular opinion. And, to be completely fair, he had read a decent amount of books filled with sex and romance.

But…he was sure that the acts detailed in this one would make even the Court of Nightmares’s debauchery look saintly. Even Azriel, who had been correctly assumed to be the kinkiest of the Inner Circle, felt tame in comparison to the words flickering across the pages of your book. How did you read this with such impassivity on your face?

Azriel snapped the book shut with such force the pages blew a cool, gentle breeze onto his heating face. He tried – and failed – to not picture you in the position the main character in your book was described in, unintentionally sending a soft hum of his burgeoning arousal down your bond. He was beginning to understand your desire to replicate the more salacious scenes detailed in your novels.

Having fun without me, Az? Came your teasing inquiry in his mind, as he meticulously replaced all of your belongings into your nightstand.

Don’t be nosy, he quipped back, extremely aware of the irony of his statement. And then after a beat he added, answering your question with a sincerity that never failed to grip your heart, Never without you, love.

You left him waiting for a response a little bit longer than you normally would as you attempted to control the thundering beat of your heart in your chest. You were convinced that no amount of time could ever diminish the effects that Azriel’s blatant display of love had on your composure. As much as he was wrapped around your little finger, you were just as tightly wrapped around his.

I take back what I said earlier, wait up for me.

Azriel smirked to himself, feeling a flare of triumph, It’s a date, then. Maybe I’ll find something interesting to read in the meantime.

If you caught on to his sly insinuation, you did not let on, just continued bantering with him for a few moments before returning your full attention to your friends, who were no doubt attempting to extract morsels of information from your obviously lascivious exchange with your lover.

But that night – even after Azriel had promptly fucked you into a blissful oblivion – had yielded no more information about your recent proclivity for finding a new kink, so Azriel did what he did best and spied.

He kept a watchful eye on the books you read, and tracked the times you asked him to try something new. He spent more time in the library than necessary under the guise that Rhys had put him up to some research.

Which was only half of a lie. He was in there to do reconnaissance, yes, just not for Rhys.

Azriel scanned the bookshelves for anything that seemed like it had been recently replaced, pages still clinging to the sweet scent of your skin. A title he recognized caught his eye and he slotted it out of place, flipping through the pages to confirm his suspicions.

This book was shorter than the others he’d seen you carry around, but certainly no less obscene. A smirk pulled at Azriel’s lips as he read a dog eared chapter that you had clearly marked for inspiration, recollections of your most recent tryst in his office flooding his awareness.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

You had sauntered into his small, private study at the House of Wind, short dress skimming the curves of your thighs as you bent to greet him with a kiss to his cheek. He’d been distracted at the time — surveying maps and cross referencing with ancient textbooks — and barely tore his attention away from his work long enough to squeeze your hand in greeting.

But you didn’t seem to mind, opting to make yourself comfortable and purveying the books neatly organized on his shelves. When you’d found a book you thought would be interesting enough — though probably not quite as interesting as the one you’d just finished, per Nesta’s recommendation — you settled into the armchair across Azriel’s desk, shoulders against one armrest as your legs draped over the other.

Azriel looked up at you then, soft smile curving his lips. He loved when you kept him company while he worked; somehow, whenever you were around, work never seemed nearly as daunting or overwhelming.

You met his gaze with your own grin, silently communicating your support of him in the way that only mates could, tugging gently on the bond before winking at him and resettling your attention back to the book in your lap.

The both of you worked in that wonderfully comfortable silence for a while before Azriel caught you fidgeting out of the corner of his eye. The sun had begun its routine descent below the horizon, cool breeze stirring the sheer curtains framing his windows. Though summer had plagued the days with heat and humidity, the nights were still cool as the last dregs of spring eked away.

He looked up, intending on asking if you needed anything — a blanket, maybe — but the words died swiftly in his throat when he eyed a flash of bare skin as you swung your legs to stand, showcasing just enough for him to clue in to the fact that you were indeed not wearing underwear. Or anything else under your dress, if the peak of your nipples beneath the silk was anything to go by.

Selfishly, for a brief moment, Azriel decided that maybe keeping the windows open wouldn’t be so bad.

He pried his eyes away from your form making its way back to his bookcase, and instead attempted to tamp down the raging lust stirring in his belly so he could focus. But the mental picture of what he knew lay beneath the barely there fabric of your dress coupled with your scent made the lines on the map he was studying blur into nonsense.

Though intelligent and compassionate at heart, Azriel often found himself a slave to his baser male instincts when it came to you. There was little – if anything – you could do to quell the raging need to touch you, kiss you, be near you at all hours of the day; his desire for you was a constant hum belying his daily routine. He had not one iota of self control when you were involved, much to his simultaneous thrill and chagrin.

Inwardly, he cursed himself as he stole another glance at you as you stretched onto your toes to reach a book on the top shelf.

Beauty incarnate, truly, he thought. Azriel’s eyes tracked each slope and valley of the lines of your body, taking his time to commit each curve to memory, the way he should have been doing with the maps sitting now uselessly on his desk.

You looked at him over your shoulder, small pout on your lips, “Az, can you help me? I can’t reach.”

Azriel’s heart leapt. It’s like you were doing it on purpose, and in hindsight you definitely were. But despite the gnawing adoration encouraging him to fall to his knees and worship at your feet, he stood with the cool grace of someone unperturbed by their mate’s subtle seduction.

Azriel obliged you, coming up behind you, one hand curling around your hip to steady himself as the other reached easily to the top shelf to grab the book your fingertips skimmed. As he leaned forward, you could feel the hard planes of his chest against your back and you wanted to abandon all your plans to slowly seduce Azriel into a puddle on the floor, but you remained steadfast in your decision. Nesta had pushed a book into your hands and said she tried this once with Cassian and that the resulting hours were pure heaven, and you wanted to test the theory, curiosity rivaling that of your mate’s.

You barely registered Azriel putting the book in your hands, too lost in the warmth of his familiar touch. But you composed yourself quickly, leaning back into him to kiss him in thanks, not so subtly pushing your ass back into his hips. A feeling of revelry settled in your chest when you felt him already half hard beneath his pants, his fingers curling tighter around your hip.

Oh so reluctantly, you pulled away, perfect picture of obliviousness as you plopped back down on the armchair you were occupying previously.

Azriel thought he would collapse in on himself when you went to sit back down. You had him so tightly ensnared it was like he was still in the midst of the initial mating frenzy. He briefly wondered if the mind-boggling need for you would ever go away, though part of him knew hoped it never would.

He took a moment to compose himself — if that was even possible when one’s mate was clearly playing a dangerous game of seduction — bracing himself with one arm steady against the bookshelf.

Despite how much Azriel so greatly wanted to shirk his responsibilities to bend you over his desk, he wouldn’t. Not yet anyway. The work day wasn’t quite over, and the plans he was making for you would surely last too long to finish his research afterwards. So he steeled himself and took a deep, steadying breath, willing his blood to fill his head again so he could think with some semblance of clarity.

Though at baseline, he always found it difficult to think rationally when you were around.

While Azriel was trying — and failing — to regain his composure, you were feigning extreme interest in the book you had selected at random: The History and Systems of Fae War Treaties.

If Azriel had been paying any attention to what you were reaching for, he’d have caught on to your ploy, but luckily for you the mere sight of you was enough to render him at least somewhat incapacitated.

You took a peek at him over the back of the chair, triumphant satisfaction crooking your lips into a mischievous smile. Maybe this would be the day he finally cracks, you think to yourself.

But as the sun dipped lower beneath the skyline of Velaris below, and as Azriel stubbornly worked away at his desk, you felt the tiredness of the day settle into your bones, pull you deeper into the plush leather of Azriel’s loveseat. Cassian had run you ragged with training this morning, and Rhys and Amren had your mind working tirelessly as the three of you attempted to draft a peace treaty in a meager four hours.

But you wouldn’t sleep, not yet, not until you had reduced Azriel to a beautiful, orgasmic mess in his chair. Not until the hazel of his eyes were blown dark with desire and pleading as you straddled his hips.

The next hour was a fight to stay awake as the words on the pages in your lap began to blur into obscurity, mind muddling with theories and questions — though the book was an off handed choice, you couldn’t deny that the information was coincidentally incredibly pertinent to the discussion you were having with Rhys and Amren earlier in the day.

The telltale sigh of a day’s work completed pulled your attention away from your book, gaze settling on your mate. His hair was mused in a way that told you he had spent the last however long skating his fingers through it, but as always it fell perfectly across his forehead in defiance of the tiredness creeping up his neck.

Azriel’s eyes met yours and apparently your coy seduction earlier still held his body in a vice, evident in the way he stood and stalked to you. There was a cool, domineering edge to his movements and you knew your plan had worked to a degree, but the determination you had to break him down had leeched out of you the same way the night had stolen the day’s heat.

You hummed in satisfaction as he leaned down to kiss you, the pressure gentle and so, so sweet. A stark contrast to the dark and tempting storm of desire Azriel flooded your senses with down the bond.

Never once breaking the contact of your kiss, he’d wedged a knee between your legs as one hand braced against the arm of the loveseat while the other danced at the hem of your dress, endearingly asking for permission.

Your mouth curved against his and you guided his hand up to your hip, gasping delightedly when his hand tracked further up your waist, bringing the hem of your dress up with it as he slotted your hips more comfortably against his leg.

His lips traced a scalding trail of open mouthed kisses against your jaw, your neck, a chuckle rumbling deep in his chest that had your hips rolling against him.

“So bold for me,” he said, his hand skating across your unclothed skin while he urged your hips to grind a little harder against his thigh. You gasped, the pressure so wonderfully perfect against your cunt.

Though your initial intention was to get Azriel all hot and bothered, you couldn’t deny that the game you had set yourself up in had the same effect on you; the lingering, almost lazy path his eyes swept over your body every time you shifted across from him left heat singing between your legs, untamed longing for you dancing down the golden thread between you.

“Az…” you rasped, arching your hips up to meet his still clothed body, the top of your dress pushed languidly down to your waist as Azriel played slow music on the skin of your breasts. The loveseat was a cramped fit at best, but Azriel’s surprising flexibility and dexterity made it work despite the general largeness of his wings and frame. He’d made even the smallest corners of the House work for your sexual escapades.

The memories of all the scandalous little happenings you two have been partaking in the past few months flitted across your mind’s eye like an erotic slideshow, and you groaned. Legs tightening around his in desperate search for more friction, more contact, more of him. His name on your lips again was a wanton plea, a sound so wonderfully obscene Azriel almost came in his pants.

“Hmm?” He hummed, closing his lips around your nipple, teeth gently tugging before his tongue was quick to soothe the ache. The way your hips were grinding so shamelessly against him had his head spinning with a swirling mix of lust and love, and he clung to the last shreds of self discipline he had. It was all he could do to not tear both of your clothes off and sink himself deep into your brilliant warmth.

Azriel had always been patient, mastery over his desire was a skill he’d honed meticulously over the past few centuries — though you had a way of quickly unraveling his self control with one flutter of your eyelashes. But he wanted to make this last for you, wanted to draw out your pleasure for as long as possible. So he pressed his thigh more firmly between your legs, his own hips slotting against the side of your body.

You gasped at the feel of him, of how hard he was against your hip, and you tried to reach him, tried to get him to release some of the tension you knew coiled in his belly. He groaned deep and breathless when you pressed insistently against him, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he continued his ministrations on your body.

Azriel’s hands were everywhere, trailing paths around your breasts, up your neck, into your hair, and between your legs the way he no doubt was doing with the maps on his desk earlier.

It was infuriating how close you were already, how swiftly the tables had turned (though you half blamed the sudden onset of your fatigue the day had cursed you with), how with one well placed touch you were on the brink of collapse at Azriel’s mercy yet again.

He was urging your hips faster now, his fingers and lips making quick work of all the places he knew would have you keening. And before you could even register that he was still fully clothed, hard cock still straining against the confines of his pants, you were falling, breathless and dizzy with release.

The night had been far from over. You came twice more in that godsdamned loveseat – once with his fingers buried inside you and another time with his head between your legs – before he whisked you away to your bedroom where you finally, finally felt the delicious stretch of him inside you.

By the time the sun was making its appearance over the horizon once more, you had lost count of how many times Azriel had you begging.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Though your spicy little rendezvous in his office – and encore in the bedroom – wasn’t quite an exact replica of what played out in the book you had apparently just read, Azriel had thought your coy seduction had its intended effect. He’d been so fucking desperate for you that he couldn’t wait until you were out of his study to have you coming for him.

But, as he skimmed the pages of the chapter you marked, he couldn’t help but think that maybe he wouldn’t mind being fully at the mercy of your whims, wouldn’t mind submitting to the pleasure that you so easily coaxed from him. He was already always so eager to please you, so willing to crawl to the ends of the earth for you if you had so much as suggested you wanted him to.

“Azriel?” Nesta’s voice dripped with wicked amusement, effectively pulling him from his erotic reverie. “I never thought I’d see you in this section of the library.”

Fuck.

He hadn’t anticipated that he’d run into Nesta, a severely idiotic oversight on his part considering the House’s library was something akin to her own personal sanctuary. Azriel turned slowly on his heels to face her, mind working in overdrive to come up with a viable excuse for him being there.

“Nesta,” was all he came up with. Pathetic.

Her smirk turned deadly when she realized he was floundering. Arms crossed over her chest, chin tilted ever so slightly upwards, she looked the very portrait of smug amusement; he would expect nothing less of his friend who moonlighted as Lady Death.

Nesta’s eyes dropped to the book he forgot he was holding, and her eyebrows shot up in understanding, “Ah, I just recommended that one to Y/N. She gave it a hefty five stars. Said it was…intriguing.”

Nesta’s sly comments were enough to confirm Azriel’s suspicions that you were taking bedroom inspiration from the arsenal of smutty books the House stocked. And, with the way Nesta was biting her tongue, he could tell that she knew exactly why he was there.

Cassian, that fucking mouthy bastard.

Before Azriel could open his mouth to tell her that it wasn’t what it looked like – even though they both knew it was exactly what it looked like – Nesta stalked past him, pulling books off the shelf with striking precision. With a stack of five books balanced on one hand, she took the one Azriel was holding and reshelved it.

“These are Y/N’s favorite,” she said, this time with a little bit more softness and understanding as she placed them gingerly in his arms. “I’m sure she’d love if you read them.”

Azriel scanned each cover, a fond smile working to tilt the corners of his lips. You did love these; he had been familiar with these covers long before you were even mated, always keeping a lovingly watchful eye on the things you enjoyed, filing the knowledge away in his mind for later.

“Thanks, Nesta,” he said sincerely, adoration for you filling his chest with warmth as he remembered the excitement lighting your eyes while you read these books, cute flush radiating off your cheeks.

Nesta only nodded, giving his shoulder an encouraging few pats as she stalked off to another aisle, no doubt scouring the shelves for a new read.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Azriel told himself that he’d only read a few chapters — for research — but he hadn’t realized that he’d spent the better half of his day off lounging on the loveseat in his study.

Despite his previous reservations around the smutty books you’d so lovingly treasured, he found he was enjoying them — and not just for the well written, detailed sex scenes that you were pulling ideas from. He was two-thirds of the way through the second book, in the midst of the big climax, when you snuck up on him.

“It seems you’ve discovered my dirty little secret,” you said coyly, arms coming up behind him to snake around his shoulders.

Azriel jumped at your sudden appearance, inwardly cursing himself for teaching you how to sneak up on someone so effectively. He closed the book swiftly, feeling a flustered blush creep up his neck.

You pouted and rested your chin on his shoulder, “Aw, you were just getting to the best part! Don’t stop reading on my account.”

Azriel groaned but gave in, leaning back into your touch, “Don’t tease me.”

“I would never tease you, my love,” you said mockingly before kissing his cheek. “It is really the best part, though. The paint scene—“

Before you could regale the details of the main characters’ sexual escapades, Azriel took your chin in his fingers and slotted his lips over yours in a silent plea to stop your innocent tormenting. He reveled in the way you kissed him back without pause; he didn’t think he’d ever get used to the way you loved him as eagerly as he did you.

“Dirty little secret, huh?” He quipped, lips brushing yours as a bemused smirk lifted the corners of his mouth. You rolled your eyes as you made your way around the back of the chair, gesturing for him to uncross his legs so you could settle yourself on his lap.

Your weight was a welcome comfort as he continued prodding you, “Is this why you’ve been so…eager lately?”

“I didn’t think you’d notice,” you admitted, winding your arms around his neck as he scoffed in mock disbelief.

“Give me some credit love, I notice everything when it comes to you.” Came his quick response.

You pursed your lips, half in childish dissatisfaction that your little game was over, “I just wanted to know how to get you to beg for me. I needed ideas.”

Your nonchalance belied the wicked sensuality of your words and he chuckled, wrapping his wings around you both before mapping a scathing trail of kisses up your neck. The pillowy feel of his lips brushing your ear made you shudder, his teeth nibbling playfully at your earlobe as he hummed deep in his chest, “We have a lifetime together, there’s no rush. But since you want it so badly, shall I show you how well I can beg for you?”

Azriel’s offer sent an exhilarating shiver down your spine, and you so desperately wanted to give in, wanted to watch him come undone beneath you as he pleaded with you to touch him. But you shook your head despite yourself, competitive stubbornness the only barrier between you and what you wanted.

“I want to earn it, make you want me so bad you can’t help yourself.”

Your words were a breathy murmur that nearly had Azriel flipping you over right there on the too small lounge chair, but he resisted, prioritizing his assurances that you were the only thing he wanted every second of every day.

“That’s the thing, beloved,” he whispered in your ear, deep voice doused in honey reverberating in your bones as your desire flared so wildly it made you lightheaded. His hand, calloused palms rough against your skin, skated beneath the hem of your dress to grab hold of your hip and move you so you were straddling him.

This was the image you played over and over in your mind. The unbridled, unrestrained look of pleading in his eyes that blew his pupils wide, that had his hips shifting against yours in a display of just how much he wanted you.

“I always want you,” he continued. “I’d beg for you like I am dying of dehydration and you are my oasis. Just ask, and I’ll do exactly as you say.”

You were mesmerized, finger tracing the sharp contours of his jawline before ending at his chin, tilting his gaze up with the same practiced dominance you’d seen him slip into countless times before. You savored the way he shuddered at your touch, pretty lips parting as his chest heaved.

The corner of your mouth quirked, your breath a ghost over his lips, “Show me, then.”

[adhd-coyote]

“General Kenobi, you claim an assassin killed the Chancellor?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, neither I nor Commander Fox saw them, as they used a flash bomb to disorient us and fled too quickly for us to follow.”

“And where, exactly, did they flee? No one reported seeing anyone leave this office.”

“Why, they fled through the broken window, of course.”

“What broken window?”

“That one.” Kenobi points. The previously intact window shatters, as if hit by a very strong invisible force. Neither Kenobi nor the Marshal Commander so much as twitch.

“Are you alright, sir?” Commander Fox asks, all concern. “You must be very tired, if you didn’t notice the clearly broken window. You should go rest. It’s okay, General Kenobi and I can take it from here.”

“Yes,” Kenobi agrees, prim and proper. He raises a hand, fingers slightly curled, and his voice takes on a different note. “Go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time you wake.”

“I will go home and take a nice, long nap. This will all be handled by the time I wake.”

“Very good. Have a nice evening.”

[reineydraws]

i think a side effect of loving mishanks for many people is becoming very endeared by the "rayleigh is mihawk's parent" au's haha :') first one's part of this fic i posted where smolhawk challenges rayleigh to a duel ⚔️✨️ second one's just a random kid!mishanks doodle. i think their shenanigans (incl buggy!) would be cute.

[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Bumps, Blunders & Baby Kicks

Azriel & Reader Fluff Fic

Summary: As she enters her eighth month of pregnancy with her mate Azriel, the reader struggles with relentless discomfort from perpetual warmth and frequent need to pee. The story is filled with moments of tender comfort and delightful fluff.

Content Warning: Pregnancy, kissing, and accidental punching.

The bedroom sweltered like a furnace, suffocating despite the windows thrown wide open. Outside, the Sidra usually whispered cool breezes that now seemed to have lost their way, leaving only what felt like the heat from a scorching oven, clinging to your skin.

At eight months pregnant, with the weight of your unborn child pressing relentlessly from within, each movement felt like wading through molasses. The thin sheet that once promised some semblance of comfort now lay discarded by your feet. You shifted from your side to sit up, letting out a slight groan. Your hand swept over the curve of your belly. With the other hand, you brushed back the damp tendrils of hair that had glued themselves to your forehead, each strand saturated with sweat. 

You let out a frustrated humph, struggling to take a deep breath, a task that had become increasingly difficult these days. You glanced at the empty space beside you on the bed. In the first few months of your pregnancy, Azriel had been almost inseparably attentive, hardly letting you out of his sight. He doted on you endlessly, always touching you, constantly checking if you were okay. By the third month, his constant vigilance had nearly driven you to smother him with a pillow while he slept. While you cherished the increased presence of your mate, his overprotectiveness had begun to feel suffocating, and you had gently nudged him to resume his duties at the Night Court, though with less risk involved.

You had returned to your work in the library after overcoming your morning sickness, determined not to be treated differently just because you were pregnant. The idea of being seen as weak or fragile irked you deeply. So you resisted, sometimes pushing yourself too hard, often ending your days exhausted and spent.

 Azriel was reluctant to spend nights away, he valued these evenings with you, cherishing the time before your new babe arrived. However, it didn’t seem right for him to skip the meeting in the Summer Court, especially when that relationship was still in its infancy. Azriel had given you a long, passionate kiss, promising to return home as soon as he could. He then gently cupped your belly, whispered something too soft even for your fae ears to catch, and kissed your stomach. With that tender gesture, he winnowed away to the River House to meet with Rhys.

You gently ran your hand up and down the curve of your stomach. “Is it as hot in there for you as it is out here?” you murmured to your babe. As you fluttered your fingers across the top of your belly, the babe responded with a lively kick. Azriel had thoroughly enjoyed discovering all the ways to engage with the babe, from talking to them to gently pressing your belly to feel them push back. Each time you felt a kick, you’d call out to him, and no matter where he was, he’d appear in moments, eager to place his hands over yours and feel the movement too. He had been so disappointed when he missed the first of those tiny, internal kicks. 

At the tiny kick, a smile spread across your face. Then, abruptly, you felt an overwhelming urge to pee—a sensation that seemed to dominate your days lately. Sighing, you swung your legs over the side of the bed and carefully stood up, arching your back in an attempt to ease some of the persistent ache. You stretched your arms high above your head, trying to loosen the tightness that gripped your body. 

You ambled into the adjoining bathroom, the soles of your feet gently padding on the hardwood floor—a gracious gift from Feyre and Rhys when they learned of your pregnancy. The townhouse was your sanctuary. While Cassian had insisted that you and Azriel stay with him and Nesta at the House of Wind, you had joked that two pregnant females under one roof might leave only one male mate standing. Besides, you cherished the privacy of your own space with Azriel, and he seemed delightfully committed to "christening" every surface of your new home.

You paused by the large bathroom mirror, taking a moment to admire your side profile. Gently, you ran your hands over the curve of your stomach, tugging at the oversized t-shirt you'd claimed from Azriel after your own clothes had become too snug.

That’s a nice image, Azriel's voice echoed softly in your mind, his words a warm mental caress that brought an instinctive smile to your lips.

What are you doing up? you sent back to him, your mental voice tinged with a mix of surprise and warmth. Normally, you kept your side of the bond open when he was away, though his was often shielded due to his duties. Every now and then, you'd send him mental snapshots of you and the babe whenever he could receive them.

We just got back to our rooms, Azriel replied, his mental presence flickering like a comforting candle in the dark.

You glanced out into the deep, dark night. It has to be close to like 2 in the morning. What kept you out?

Azriel’s chuckle, rich and warm, flowed through the bond. Cassian got into a drinking contest with some of the Summer Court guards. Given his history, neither Rhys nor I thought it was a good idea to leave him unattended.

You couldn’t help but laugh. Fair response. Did he win?

Does anyone win in that situation? Azriel mused. He’s going to have a killer headache tomorrow morning, and I’m going to have to hear him complain about it. Also, I learned he can belch his ABC’s. Which he did. Four. Different. Times.

Oh good, you replied, already picturing the next gathering, I’ll have to ask him to demonstrate next time I can get a few beers in him.

I don’t think you would need to coax him, Azriel responded, amused. He seems pretty proud of himself. A beat passed. Are you doing okay? babe okay?

You stood up, having finished what felt like the longest pee ever. We’re both fine. Your babe just finds it hilarious to sit on mom’s bladder at night. That, and I’m just constantly hot.

Well, we knew that, came Azriel’s cheeky retort, and you could almost see his teasing grin.

I mean because of the pregnancy, you heathen.

I’m sorry my babe keeps making you have to pee. I’ll be sure to address it with them at our next meeting, Azriel joked, his voice soothing even across the distance.

I would appreciate that, you responded with a light laugh, exiting the bathroom and returning to the bedroom. Needing a break from the oppressive indoor heat, you stepped out onto the patio to catch what little coolness the night air could offer. When are you coming home?

Does my beautiful mate miss me that much? Azriel's voice was soft and playful.

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see it. Your mate misses the foot massages and back rubs, that’s for sure. And your babe misses your voice. They’re quieter tonight.

His warmth enveloped you through the bond, a comforting embrace from afar. I’ll be home soon, he promised. Just a few more things to wrap up here.

Get some sleep, my love, you urged, feeling the heaviness of your own eyelids as a testament to the late hour.

I’m not the one carrying an unborn child, Azriel teased back.

The babe and I are both heading back to sleep, you responded, settling the conversation toward a close.

Goodnight, my love, and goodnight, my sweet babe. Dada misses you so much. His words were tender, filled with longing. Though no one knew for certain if unborn fae babes could sense their parents through the bond, you felt a heightened awareness from your babe whenever Azriel spoke like this. Perhaps there was something to the old tales after all.

You ran a hand over your stomach once more, a gesture both comforting and connective, then closed your eyes, letting the cool breeze from Velaris ease the persistent warmth enveloping you. After a moment savored in the night's gentle caress, you made your way back to bed, your heart and mind a little lighter, carrying the goodnight wishes of your mate with you into dreams.

Later that same night, you felt the warm caress of a hand pushing your hair from your face. In a flash your eyes open and you punched one hand out into the stomach of whomever was touching you. You jolted up, kicking your way to the other side of the bed, arms drawn in a fighting stance. Azriel doubled over, the air knocked from him. 

Azriel sucked in a pained breath, managing to straighten up slightly as he held a hand to his stomach. His shadows fluttered around him, mirroring his surprise and discomfort. "I was just trying to be sweet," he wheezed, a forced grin not quite hiding the sting of your reflexive punch.

Your heart sank a little, guilt mixing with the remnants of your adrenaline rush. "Oh, Az, I'm so sorry. I thought—I didn't realize it was you," you stammered, the initial fear dissipating as quickly as it had surged.

He took a few more deep breaths, regaining his composure, his smile becoming more genuine. "It's alright. I should have known better than to sneak up on a warrior—even one who's eight months pregnant."

You lowered your arms, your stance relaxing, your expression apologetic. "I didn’t mean to hit you. It just... it happened so fast. But also, by the Cauldron Az!”

Azriel finally chuckled, the sound a bit strained but filled with affection. "Trust me, love, I've learned my lesson. Next time I'll make sure I'm not within striking distance when I come to give you a midnight kiss."

"Maybe just stick to verbal greetings from now on—at least during the night," you suggested, half-joking but also serious, not wanting to risk another misfire.

"Protective mom instincts, huh?" he chuckled, his shadows settling back as his breathing eased. “Can I touch you now without getting maimed?" he joked, his tone light but his gaze searching for reassurance.

You nodded, opening your arms in a peace offering. "Come here, you. Just maybe announce yourself next time, especially in the middle of the night.”

“Fair point,” he responded. “Alright, I am going to hug my mate now, and maybe kiss her, depending on how the hug goes,” Az announced. 

“I am accepting the hug and aware of what is to come,” you joked back.

Azriel's embrace was a sanctuary of warmth and familiarity, his presence alone soothing the ambient heat that had been your constant companion these past months. The subtle change in his scent—a richer, earthier tone—seemed to ground you further, drawing a deep, content sigh from your lips as you nestled into his hold.

“I thought you wouldn’t be home till tomorrow?” you queried, tilting your head back to look up at him, curiosity lighting your features.

He responded not with words, but with a tender kiss, sealing his lips to yours in a brief, loving gesture. When he drew back, the smile on your face lingered, eyes fluttering open slowly. “I couldn’t sleep, kept thinking about you,” Azriel confessed softly, the hum of his voice vibrating against your skin. “So I left a note for Rhys, letting him know I’d come back early. If he needs me, I can always go back tomorrow.”

“You know, next time you have to go to the ocean side, maybe consider bringing your heavily pregnant wife who currently runs at about ten thousand degrees so I can get some of that ocean air,” you suggested playfully, your lips puckering slightly in anticipation of another kiss.

Azriel's laughter melded into the kiss, his breath mingling with yours in a dance as intimate as the touch. The kiss deepened, and his hand found its way to your belly, thumb caressing the life within with a reverence that had grown over the months. His connection to both you and the babe deepened in these moments, a bond visible in his every gentle touch and loving glance.

The babe responded to his touch with a small kick, a tiny but sure presence making itself known. You placed your hands over his.

Azriel broke the kiss to lower his head toward your belly. “Hi little one,” he murmured affectionately, his lips pressing a soft kiss there. Another kick met his greeting, a silent echo of recognition. “Were you good to your mama while dada was gone?” he asked, voice playful yet filled with genuine curiosity.

“They were fine, a little restless earlier today when we were out on a walk, but other than that, they’ve been quiet,” you answered, running your fingers through Azriel's hair, anchoring him close, his head cradled against your stomach.

Azriel wrapped his arms around your hips as you stayed there together for a moment. He pressed another kiss to your stomach before resting his chin atop your swollen belly looking up at you. You leaned forward and gave him a soft peck on the forehead. “Az,” you started.

“What, my love?” He asked back, smiling. 

“I have to pee.” You said, pushing him back from you. 

You hauled your body from the bed and scooted into the bathing room, hearing from over your shoulder, “You always have to pee.” 

[futuristichedge]

Late night doodles

[solbaby7]

Tripping Over You

pairing: azriel x reader

warnings: swearing, some typos, sexual tension, clumsy reader, just fluff

summary: Your lack of situational awareness has a certain Shadowsinger stumbling to maintain his patience.

—

If Azriel was being perfectly truthful, he didn’t like you much.

It wasn’t personal but in the time he’d known you, he found you to have an annoyingly bad habit of being completely unaware of your surroundings; always just barely dodging being flayed by some disaster.

Call it bad luck or just plain carelessness but Azriel fucking hated it.

His fingers twitched when he’d caught you in a pile of your own limbs on the kitchen floor, a knife held loosely in your hand and a sheepish smile on your face as if you hadn’t almost just shoved the sharp blade in your neck because you’d been too preoccupied to clean up the little puddles of water you left around. “Give me that,” He grumbles with a scoff, carefully snatching the blade from your hands.

Unintelligible words drip from his tongue and you watch wide-eyed, slowly rising back to your feet as the shadowsinger quickly finished the sandwich you were attempting to make, slicing it four ways with a huff and sliding it in your direction. “Thanks.”

“You need to be more careful.”

More of that went on for weeks.

Short, snappy comments on your inability to step out of bed without the possibility of breaking a bone, soothed over by Azriel just completing whatever task for you. His behavior should’ve deterred you; the deep scowls and gruff voice, the tension in his shoulders that formed when he noticed you in a room—but at least he always noticed.

Always had a hand curling around your arm when you tripped and was the first one to pull you out of the water after wandering off a little too deep. Water soaks your hair, dripping into your eyes and you’re weightless when he tugs you over to the more shallow area, seaweed sinking in your toes. “Why are you even in the water if you can’t swim?”

“I can swim,” It comes out choppy, cheeks red from all the coughing but Azriel can’t help the feeling that burns in his belly when you peer up at him, eyes glittering and full lips quirking at the corners. “Just didn’t realize how far out I’d gotten.”

He looks positively exasperated by your passiveness, chest rising and falling quickly with each breath and you’re no better than any of the other women who dared stare at the spymaster long enough to take in the true expanse of muscle that lies beneath those leathers. Rippling pectorals, biceps that flexed deliciously as he spoke; he’s more animated than you’d ever anticipated, usually offering nothing but perfect silence—or the occasional sarcastic comment towards his brothers. You’re not really paying attention to what he’s saying, eyes wandering down his form and he abruptly stops talking when he sees the way your eyes catch down his abdomen, mouth pouty and hair dripping down your shoulders. “Are you even fucking listening?”

“Not really.”

“Unbelievable,” The view when he turns is almost as amazing as the front, perfect dips and ridges of his back and broad shoulders enough to have you forcing your eyes away before you drooled enough to fill the lake three times over. Inky hair shines under the sun, hazel eyes snapping to you over his shoulder and shadows slink out to you in seconds. They push at you, urging you forward until your toes sink in dry sand.

Azriel lets you go ahead first, partially because he wasn’t a hundred percent confident you wouldn’t try going back—but mostly he just wants a better look at the bathing suit you’d slipped into. It’s nothing overtly scandalous but attention drawing all the same, skinny ties and bottoms that show enough to have his fingers twitching with want at his sides. “You’re staring,” Rhys informed, a bare elbow nudging into Azriel’s ribs.

“Because, I just don’t get it,” He’s referring to you, tripping twice over nothing on your return to the girls under the shade, your knees scraped from a tumble and a scarred hand reaches to cup the back of his head when Amren swiftly stabilized you. “How come when Amren finally decides to make friends it’s with fucking Bambi of all people?”

“She’s sweet,” Rhys shrugs, violet eyes regarding you no more than a sister but your beauty was undeniable. “So, she’s a little clumsy—big deal.”

“A little clumsy,” Az repeats, sounding genuinely annoyed and the High Lord can’t push back the growing smirk that tugs on the corners of his mouth. “She’s a liability, she’s going to get herself ki—“ The words die on his tongue, a low sound pulling from his chest when Azriel is forced to send a shadow out to stop you from slicing your fingers clean off with the dagger Mor had handed over to pry open the wine bottle. “Mother above.”

The air was fresh, a cool breeze sifting through quickly drying clothes under the sweltering sun and Rhysand could admit he’d seen his brother through many emotions. Anger, grief, disappointment, happiness—but never such mother hen like attentiveness; hazel eyes tracking your every move like a hawk. “Are you interested in her?”

“Are you insane?”

Rhys shrugged, bare shoulders going golden under the suns rays. “That answer varies depending on who you ask but that doesn’t really answer my question.”

“She’s—“ The words get caught in his throat, muscles tensing under the discomfort that grows under his skin because Azriel hadn’t even thought about that. Sure, he’d been slightly more involved than he’d originally planned but you just kept getting yourself into such trouble; he had no choice but to stay close behind to make sure you stayed safe. “There’s no way—“ Heat begins to warm the top of his ears and the shove he gives is less than gentle. “Oh, fuck you.”

Rhysand doesn’t seem phased, a teasing smile on sharp features and Azriel doesn’t miss the way the High Lord keeps trailing his eyes back to Feyre, her fingers raking through your hair until most of it was braided out of your face and decorated in an assortment of little flowers. You’re soft—a little too sweet and that obliviousness Az always grumbled about was a little noticeable in the way you allowed things to just happen around you. Fey deciding to do your hair, Mor topping off your wine before you’d even gotten halfway through, Nesta snatching at the book you’d had tucked in your bag and her eyes widen when she flips to a random page, a red tinge flushing her cheeks.

But the book shuts too quickly for even Az’s shadows to sneak a peek.

“You’re allowed to be happy you know,” Rhysand doesn’t look; doesn’t even let his voice get too loud in fear that his friend would shut down or disappear and never bring up a single personal thing again. “If you like her then just act on it. Mother knows we all could benefit from a little more happiness.”

There’s a pause and Rhys can’t get a good read on what Azriel’s thinking. “I appreciate that but that’s not what this is. She’s just a danger to herself and others—it’s better I keep an eye on her myself.”

A knowing smile on the Lord of Darkness’ face. “Right, of course.”

—

It only gets worse from there and while Azriel doesn’t catch onto it right away—Rhysand was definitely behind it. Conjuring up wisps of darkness to curl around your ankles and trip you up, forcing the shadowsinger to rush to your aid and somewhere along the way he ditches his sneer for just a soft frown. “Sorry,” You sheepishly allow yourself to be steadied, acutely aware of the large hands splayed at your hips. “I think I’m still a little tired.”

“I bet,” Azriel’s quick to retort, hands slipping away entirely too soon and the ghost of where his touch once was yearned for more. “Heard Amren and Mor have been introducing you to Rhys’ liquor collection.”

At the reminder your hand raises to press to your temple, a low grunt sounding under your breath and he finds your crankiness kind of adorable. “Yeah, they’ve been breaking me in.”

He swallows audibly at the word choice, hazel eyes stealing a glance at you from the very corner of his vision but you make no indication that you were intending being flirtatious—it still doesn’t stop the blood from rushing to his cock. Giant wings bristle behind him and Azriel can’t stop staring at your night clothes; a tiny pair of shorts and an oversized shirt that hung off one shoulder. Your legs look soft; bare toes padding against the floor until you’re perched on the stool, eyes still a little hazy with sleep but you don’t make a move to cook anything—not with Azriel around.

He would’ve stopped you if you tried anyway and then he’d start complaining about you not being able to touch the appliances after forgetting to turn the burner off one time—or four.

But, who was really counting?

It’s instinctual the way he grabs for some fruit and a bowl, washing and carefully cutting them; peeling bitter citrus off and leaving the sweet parts before sliding the blow over. “Eat.”

You don’t hesitate though you do sigh softly, feet swinging. “Did Amren hire you to like take care of me or something?”

His brows furrow, confusion growing at the question, at your tone, at the embarrassed expression sinking into such pretty features it makes Azriel’s stomach twist. “No.”

But you only nod, frown still present while you spear at fresh fruit. “Are you sure? I know you’re the High Lords spymaster and Ren told me how you like to keep an eye on things.”

Ren?

Since when did Amren allow nicknames?

“—mentioned how she’s had you look after a few prized possessions for her before.” You seem different to him somehow, more guarded and stern than he’d ever once seen you and it sends a shiver up his spine. Intrigue grows, the picture of you he’d been painting of some scampering baby animal was beginning to seem furthest from the truth with such contained fire behind your tone and suddenly he wonders exactly where Amren even found you.

“I have before, yes.” The kitchen remains silent; probably not for much longer with the steadily rising sun and the smell of hot food beginning to waft in the air as Azriel sauntered about the kitchen—chopping here and adding spices there, cracking an egg or two before cranking the heat up a little higher to cook the potatoes faster. “And no, she didn’t ask me to watch you.”

“Then, why are you here?” You clear your throat, seemingly aware of how it comes off and he can’t resist a smile when you look genuinely confused. “Why are you always here?”

“I’m still not a hundred percent sure about that yet but,” He doesn’t face you when he answers, shoulders stretching out a plain black tee with carefully cut out lines on the back nearly six inches in diameter to make room for the base of his wings. They hover high behind him, flexing and shifting with his arms as he moves and you find yourself a little transfixed—a trained killer preparing you breakfast in his pajamas. “—you looked like you’d been stumbling your way through life for a while,” You’re pleasantly surprised by the amount of care in his voice; hair mussed and pillow lines fading in the left side of his cheek and your eyes catch on the low hang of his sweatpants. “Getting passed off from one hand to the next, just allowing life to happen to you however it came at you and I guess—“ He lets out a deep breath, the words seeming to be a struggle to muster up, to say out loud and you stay quiet in fear of scaring him off. “I suppose I could relate to what that felt like once upon a time and I figured you could benefit from a little support.”

You’re quiet longer than he’d have liked and Az can’t tell if the uptick in your heartbeat is a good thing or not but his shadows urge him to turn—to look. You seem skeptical at first, eyes boring into him so intensely he felt like you were stripping him bare, pulling back his ribs and holding his heart in your hands; judging his character and his choices and the soul that resided somewhere in between.

It’s a struggle to remain calm, the cool disposition that Azriel had thought he’d mastered crumbled to nothing before his very eyes. Scarred hands take their time fixing your plate, piling on the protein and making sure to add the fruit he’d caught you wiggling over the last time.

“No one’s ever said anything like that to me before.” Someone’s awake, you can hear their footsteps against the glossy floors and a steaming piece of bacon is pinched between two fingers when you lean over and press a kiss to Azriel’s cheek; just a gentle pressure an inch or two away from his mouth but you might as well have just punched him right in the gut with the way it takes his breath away. “Thank you.” He’s still reeling when you continue, humming in appreciation over your food and his fate is sealing when you smile brightly at him. “You know, you’re not so bad when you aren’t being a prick.”

“Tolerable enough to let me take you out sometime?”

“I’m surprised you know that’s a thing,” You tease over your food, wisps of cool darkness careening through your hair and resting at your thighs like a napping feline. “—considering you’ve taken to just following me everywhere.” There’s a blush burning on the curve of his ears, shadows ghosting past your ear as a distraction and distantly you wonder if Azriel could feel you the way they could. “Tripping me up with these things just to have an excuse to put your hands on me.”

“Wait, I haven’t—“ There’s a smug cough sounding in his brain and the spymaster’s gaze cuts to the corner of the room. A smirking Rhys still shirtless from the night before just lingering in silence, silently urging, mentally pleading with Az to just take this slice of happiness. He sucks in a soft breath, heart thudding against his chest and his voice is barely above a whisper. “If you knew why didn’t you stop me?”

He can smell your conditioner when you turn to face him, palms braced on the stool beneath you and you lean forward, eyes staring up at him and your toes graze at his knees. “Because, I like your attention.” More rustling and the unmistakable sound of Cassian’s booming laugh and you’re jumping off the stool, food finished and plate dropped off in the sink and Azriel can’t help but think that’s the most balanced he’d ever seen you as your hips swish a little on your way out, words thrown over your shoulder before you disappear. “And yes, I would like to go out with you sometime.”

[ellievickstar]

Lover’s Lullaby

A/N: Here’s part 3 of Bloodied Bonds, Part 2 is here, I hope you guys love this as much as I did, I put so much effort into this and I do genuinely apologise for the length of time it took for me to get this out. Thank you so much for waiting I love you all and I hope you guys enjoy!! <3

Summary: Decisions have been made, hearts have been shattered, but can Azriel finally save his beloved?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader, Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: Elain slander, dying, self-sacrificing thoughts

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“You have considered what I said,” She smiled at Azriel, but what once looked sweet and soft now seemed calculated and manipulative.

Azriel went nauseous at the thought of what Elain may have done if the bond had not countered the more extreme effects of the aphrodisiac. Thanking the Mother that all he had done with Elain was hold her hand and even hen he wanted to burn his hands all over again at the very thought.

He really was a dirty low born Illyrian.

And he had not deserved you.

“What do you want from us Elain?” Rhysand snarled, violet eyes brimming with anger.

“Get your fangs away from me Rhysand, do not think for a second that you are in a position to demand for anything,” Elain grinned, “After all, I know how to counter your daemati powers, Azriel himself taught me the basics.”

Casting a glance at Azriel, Rhysand noticed how he had paled significantly, gawking at Elain to remember when he had taught her anything of the sort. Cassian looked all but ready to leap at Elain and tear her to shreds. Rhysand was inclined to do the same.

“Just tell us what you want, Elain,” Cassian ground out. He was tired, sick and tired of being played in this game the middle Archeron sister was playing. He wanted out, desperately.

And he was not even the damned male she wanted.

In all honesty, if this situation had not been as dire as it was, Cassian would have been teasing Azriel for finally being able to attract the females around him.

“I want protection. A guarantee that I will continue to live here, protected by Azriel no matter what,” She smiled sinisterly, “I want a bargain saying that if I tell you how to save your mate you will guard me with your life.”

“But that would mean-“ “Exactly.” Elain smiled again, her amusement dancing in her eyes, malice growing on her face even with the grin plastered on.

Realisation dawned on the three males all at once.

No matter what, Elain would always torment their lives, this bargain only made it that much harder to get rid of her. But it would save his mate…and break her heart at the same time.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Azriel spent half a day agonising over the decision. Rhysand had opted to isolating himself in his study once more and Cassian took his frustration out on a training dummy.

Why?

Why did it have to come to this.

When did it all go wrong?

Cassian wanted to blame himself, in fact a part of him did feel guilty. While helping the Archeron sisters to integrate into their world they had shut her out, and despite her best attempts to assist in any way, Y/N had always been unable to fit in. Like a flip had been switched, he finally recalled every moment where he saw her expressions change, where she masked her pain, her hurt, just to accommodate to them.

After all this time, eventually she had protected them and they had to pay for it. For not noticing.

Wanting to punch himself was an understatement.

Cassian gave his all to the training dummy, recalling how Elain acted, how when Y/N was near Elain would always be cold, how Y/N always dismissed it as just Elain being hostile to her environment, how when Y/N lashed out because she was tired of being treated like shit by Elain, Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel had all stood by Elain and called Y/N unreasonable at first.

Unreasonable.

And now she was dying.

Falling to his knees, Cassian buried his face in his hands, his hair falling over his face as his hair and snapped, and thunder roared above him.

And just like that, he let his tears pour free for his friend, his only sister, he let his sorrow come loose and he cried.

The general of the Night Court, cried.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Rhysand had was familiar with pain.

He had felt pain when his mother was murdered, he had felt pain when Amarantha had tried to torture him during the first war. He had felt pain in war camps and felt pain every single time Cassian punched his face for being stupid or just because of a stupid fight.

Rhysand was familiar with pain.

However, as he sat in the corner of his study, as he curled up against the wall, his head bent over, leaning against the brick, his heart ached. Ached in a way he was more than familiar with but was devastingly painful anyways.

Rhysand had always felt pain.

But as he thought of his sister, at everything she meant to him, at every single time she had called him stupid, told him he was a jerk, every time they cried together, every time they fought with each other, every time they fought for each other.

Rhysand could not stop the pain.

Not as his eyes hurt from crying so much, not even as he tried to curl further into the corner, trying to imagine her warm hug when he was first used by Amarantha. For the first time in centuries Rhysand realised how easily he could lose his sister. Even as he gagged from not easting, even as his legs went numb from sitting in the same position, even when the sky went dark, Rhysand sat there.

“Come home, little star,” He whispered into the darkness, “We can go to your favourite bookstore, I’ll let you put me in a dress again, I’ll even let you put make up and jewellery on me,” He let out another choked sob.

“Just come home.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

When the decision was made, Azriel slowly went to Elain’s room in the dead of the night. Elain stirred softly before she came aware of his presence.

“I will make the bargain with you, but only with one condition,” Azriel spoke softly.

“And that is?” Elain purred.

“The bargain will only be effective if she lives. Because if she does not survive this, I think I would die anyways,” He replied softly. At least this way, his starlight would be safe. His mate would have to live.

“Fine,” Elain shrugged.

And just like that, a tattoo burned onto Azriel’s ankle, and as he glanced down, he saw the outline of a bloodied rose, thorns and all.

The irony wasn’t lost on him.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

“What in the world,” Cassian breathed.

Azriel had done it, he had made the bargain and now knew how to save Y/N. However, as Azriel explained how it should be done to both him and Rhys, the plan seemed a little…..volatile.

“So we’re supposed to use Rhysand’s daemati powers to enter her subconsciousness, and travel into her mind where it’s probably sitting there thinking she’s asleep, manipulate her subconsciousness to make introduce her to a dreamscape, and from there materialise a dream version in her head of ourselves in order to explain to her this entire mess and convince her that Azriel still loves her?” Cassian repeated.

The long winded explanation was….long, but it did summaries what they were going to attempt. Rhysand tapped his fingers on the desk impatiently as he weighed his options, the plan did seem viable, not something that he had done before, but viable.

The only problem now was….

“Who’s going in to talk to her?” Rhys asked.

How would someone go in and convince his dying sister that her mate, who she thinks cheated on her, still loves her? Who would be the best choice in this?

Pacing from one side of the room to another, he ran his hand through his hair.

“Azriel should,” Cassian piped up, but Rhysand shook his head.

“No he could trigger her and send her in the other direction, he could make her die faster,” Rhysand said.

“Or he could show her that he still loves her, give him a chance to explain and ask for forgiveness, do you think she’ll magically believe what we say? Azriel himself will be his proof that she does not need to die.” Cassian countered.

“No I won’t,” Rhysand shook his head, “I won’t let him hurt my sister again.”

Azriel visibly flinched at that.

Growling at his high lord, Cassian stormed up to Rhysand, snarling in his face.

“Azriel might be the only chance your sister has to survive this! And you are willing to throw that away because you don’t trust him anymore?” Rhysand snapped back, “I am not putting my sister’s life in his hands, not again!”

“She’s my sister too!” Cassian screamed.

Rhysand faltered at Cassian’s words.

“You weren’t there the first time this happened, you weren’t there when I found her, bloodied in the snow, when they tried to kill her when she was 15 because she was causing too much trouble in illyrian camps,” Cassian sobbed, “You may have been her real brother but when you were trying to be High Lord, she was trying to survive without a family! I was her family!” Cassian begun pacing himself now.

“You weren’t there when she got her first crush, when I taught her how to throw a real punch, when I taught her how to fly when she was 10 because her father deemed her unworthy to learn and her mother could not teach her!” Cassian looked Rhysand dead in the eyes.

“She was my sister too, and with all my heart I believe that Azriel is her best shot.”

Hesitating, Rhysand looked between Cassian and Azriel, before nodding slowly.

“Fine.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Sitting beside her bed, Azriel grasped his mates hand for what seemed to be the last time. No. Not the last. He would not allow it to be. Regardless of the cost, Azriel would bring her home.

Hundreds of possibilities ran through his head as he gazed at her sleeping face. She looked like she was sleeping, but it was…wrong. Her head was not in an awkward position for him to adjust, she did not stir ever so slightly in his presence to greet him with a soft whimper that he was breathing too loud. She looked like she was sleeping, but in his bones he knew she was not.

Squeezing her hand one more time, he turned as the door open, allowing Rhysand, Madja and Cassian to walk in.

“Nesta will handle all the training today, Feyre promised to continue overseeing all diplomatic and court duties, we’re all set.” Rhysand explained.

Nodding his head, Azriel set his eyes on the wooden floors as he took a deep breathe, closing his eyes as he let the familiar tendrils of magic curl around his mind. He would bring you home.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

He felt as if he had been walking for hours, his soul on the brink of collapse. The heavy weight on his ever preset body, as he kept going forward into the darkness.

There was no light in this place.

Even as he fell to his knees, he crawled, only one person on his mind. But where was she? Where was he?

He could only keep crawling, moving, doing anything but stopping. And even as the ground seemed to swallow him whole, he did nothing.

Maybe he deserved this.

Maybe he needed this.

Pain screamed at him from ever direction, the darkness raging.

Yes.

He deserves this.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

Waking up with a start, Azriel sat up as he looked around him, his memory hazy as he tried to recall the last thing.

Right in from of him was the Sidra, its water currents moving as he stared at the river, looking around for signs of anything else. However, the atmosphere was eerily quiet. Velrais, was empty.

Standing to his feet, he let out a shaky swear before taking a moment to stretch all his limbs. This was….Y/N’s dreamscape, her subconsciousness.

But where was she?

Wading through the streets of Velaris, he silently took note of how everything was the same, except there were no people. He could hear the sounds of a bustling city, but it was as if they were whispers of wind, taunting him of a world that was currently not real.

“Y/N?” He called out. If this was her dreamscape, surely she could hear him. That’s when an idea struck him. Grappling for the tendril in his soul, he almost shook with relief when a gold thread appeared in front of him, and he looked to where it led, his heart almost dropping.

Her favourite bakery.

Of course.

Entering the small shop, he saw his starlight in the corner of the bakery, curled up against the plush bright seats, a croissant in one hand and a book in the other.

“My love,” He whispered.

Looking up, your eyes widened as you dropped the book, your mouth agape as you took in the male before you.

“What are you doing here?” You demanded. Your heart palpitated in your chest as you stared at him. He was not supposed to be here. You were supposed to be either waiting for your impending death so your soul could travel to the next life, or wait for Madja to save you.

He just stared at you.

Stared at you, speechless, as he looked over you as if he could not believe you were in front of him.

“I won’t repeat myself!” You yelled.

“Sweetheart, I-“ He started but you flinched away when we tried to walk towards you.

Feeling his heart shattering, he just looked at you helplessly, he wanted to tell you that it was alright, that it was safe, but how could he when he has been the cause of your pains?

“I just came to explain, we found a way to enter your subconsciousness and I came, I needed to explain, I need you to understand-“ “Understand what?” You scoffed, “That my mate, cheated on me?” He shook his head stepping towards you, even as you tried to claw at him to escape, to leave, to do anything but look at him.

You struggled as he grasped your wrists, tried to kick at him, but he would let you hurt him if you just listened.

Even as you calmed, giving in to the fact that he was physically stronger that you, you spoke, “Loyalty, equality, eternal and forever,” You recalled the promises he had made you, “Who would have known the spymaster’s ‘forever’ really meant ‘until there is better’?” You wanted to laugh, laugh at yourself for how foolish you were, cry at how much it hurt to think of how he had broken our trust, scream at how you had hidden your pain to save HIM and now you were the one suffering.

“You are a joke, Azriel, a liar and a joke.”

“Please listen to me,” He breathed, “Please just let me explain.”

“Explain what!? Was she better, prettier, more compliant? Is that it? You couldn’t take the heat of someone so strong headed anymore, right? Too many opinions, too much energy, just too much right? Do you think I haven’t suffered enough? Why are you still here to torment me? Do you think I did not spend enough time agonising over how you loved her more than me!?”

“I was drugged!” He exclaimed.

Silence.

As the words sank in, as your eyes widened and you finally, finally looked him in the eyes.

“I was drugged,” He repeated, “Elain had started sneaking in aphrodisiacs into my tea when I first started accompanying her to help her adjust. I never noticed, I only realised there were blocks of time I could not recall here and there, that everything seemed hazy, but I couldn’t stop it. It was sheer luck that Cassian noticed when Elain was trying to give me the daily dose of it.”

You wanted it to be true. More than anything you wanted what he said to be true. Because that would mean he never stopped loving you, that all the times of thinking you were less than, it meant that you had been wrong.

But you could not.

You refused to give your trust away to him again, because more than anything you knew he held your heart in his hands even now. Instead of delighting in that fact like you used to when you were happy, now you were terrified.

Your life hung in the balance.

And you had to choose yourself.

“Go back, Azriel,” You sighed, “Tell Madja to just kill me, because I am…so tired,” You breathed.

“No, no, no!” Denying your request, he knelt before you, hands on your waist as he buried his face into your abdomen, as his eyes flooded with tears and he shook.

“Please,” He begged, “Please, come home, let me fix this. Please, let me love you, let me show you that there was never a doubt in my own sane mind that I love you. Please.”

The spymaster, on his knees before you. Begging.

“I can’t, Az, can’t you see?” You lifted his chin to look at you, your own tears beginning to well up and trickle down your face, “I’m dying, I’m dying and if you don’t leave this place then you’ll die to. We both know there isn’t enough time.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Azriel murmured, “I’ll go with you and I will follow you, all the way till the end. I told you I will love you, until we are nothing but the stars travelling across the sky of Velaris, I will follow you, and I will love you.” He pulled you down, embracing you, “So don’t make me go, Starlight.”

As you breathed, in and out, in and out, as you let out a choked sob as you finally, finally let yourself embrace your mate, you let out a soft, mumbled, “Okay.”

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

A/N: I know it’s not done but I have one LAST part after this I just wanted to really really really not rush this I tried fitting it all into one last part but sadly I could not next part will be happy I promise.

The people who are crossed out are the ones I could not tag please please please tell me in the replies if you want to be tagged, series taglist will NOT be repeated across parts.

Azriel’s taglist: @kemillyfreitas @going-through-shit @chessebookgirl

Series taglist: @its-sam-allgood @skylarkalchemist @doodlebugwatkins @buttermilktea11 @lilah-asteria @loverofclones @evergreenlark @tele86 @kingdomofstarrynights @peachyxlynch @annamariereads16 @unlikely-lovers-together @div94 @saltedcoffeescotch @ccacotartoglover @crazylokonugget @tanyaherondale @gabbiskylar01 @mariahoedt @that-one-little-soybean @cat-or-kitten @hauntedstudentobservationus @thefandomplace @minaaminaa8 @amysangel @mich0731 @petersunderoos96 @sidthedollface2 @wallacewillow0773638 @annaaaaa88 @azzydaddy @the-sweet-psycho @alaia-aya @laurzwrites @michellexgriffey @st4r-girl-official @krowiathemythologynerd @anuttellaa @i-am-infinite @iwishiwasaprincess @sad-anxious-muffin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @circe143 @deeshag @acourtofbatboydreams @randombibitch @romantasyreader28 @jojo2343-blog1 @lady-targaryens-world @nayaniasworld @chicaconfundidaycuriosa @mochibabycakes @bookisposts @moonlwghts @rcarbo1 @sunnyspycat @tee-hee135 @winnerwinnerchickendinner22

[ama0310]

Silver Springs (S.R)

Character: Spencer Reid

Requested: No

Type: Angst

Summary: A chance encounter during a murder investigation forces Spencer to confront his past when he comes face-to-face with Y/N, his ex-girlfriend and new victim, rekindling old feelings and tensions.

AN: It's basically Daisy Jones & the Six meets Criminal Minds type of vibe.

"Another day, another case."

Spencer Reid had grown accustomed to the relentless pace of his work with the BAU. Evil, it seemed, never took a day off.

This explained why he now found himself en route to interview the latest victim, accompanied by Morgan.

Four murders in two weeks, and the body count showed no signs of slowing. All signs pointed to a disturbing connection within the music industry. The first two victims were singers, their vocal cords savagely ripped out. The third, a guitarist, had his hands severed. The most recent victim, a band manager, had his eyes gouged out in a grotesque display of violence.

As they walked briskly down the bustling Nashville street, Morgan voiced his frustration. "I can't wrap my head around why each murder was so different. It's like we're dealing with a completely new MO each time."

Reid's brilliant mind was already piecing together the puzzle. "Actually, there's a twisted logic to it," he explained, his words tumbling out rapidly. "Each mutilation corresponds to the victim's role in the industry. Singers silenced, a guitarist robbed of his ability to play, and a manager blinded, unable to oversee his clients. The unsub is targeting what makes each victim valuable in their profession."

"Do we know who we're meeting?" Reid inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Morgan nodded, consulting the notes from their technical analyst, Penelope Garcia. "Her stage name is Y/S/N, twenty-six years old. She's the lead singer of a band called The Springs. The band's manager reported an attempted abduction last night. She fits our victim profile perfectly: female, location in Nashville, related to a band. This is our first witness, Reid. She could be our key to catching this guy."

As they entered the recording studio, a frazzled assistant greeted them. "Hi, I'm Cary, the manager's assistant. Thank you so much for coming! Jason has been a nervous wreck. Please, follow me."

Morgan took the lead, his FBI credentials at the ready. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We need to speak with Y/S/N as soon as possible."

Cary nodded, guiding them towards a red door. With each step, the muffled sound of music grew louder, and a hauntingly beautiful voice became clearer.

"The band is actually recording their latest song right now," Cary explained in a hushed tone. "You'll need to be quiet, but the manager will brief you further."

As they approached the studio, the lyrics washed over them:

Time cast a spell on you, but you won't forget me I know I could've loved you, but you would not let me

A chill ran up Reid's spine. Something about that voice tugged at his memory, but before he could place it, he collided with Morgan's back.

A man stood before them, his face etched with worry. "Thank you for coming. I'm Jason, the band's manager. I wanted to take her straight to the police station, but she insisted on—" His eyes widened in recognition. "Spencer?"

Reid froze, suddenly face-to-face with a ghost from his past. "Uh, hi?" he managed, his usual social awkwardness winning again. How does one greet their ex-girlfriend's best friend after years of silence?

Morgan, sensing the tension, stepped between them. "I'm Agent Morgan, and this is Dr. Reid. We're here to speak with Y/S/N."

Jason's eyes darted between the two agents, his expression hardening. "Actually, I'd prefer if he wasn't here," he said, gesturing to Reid. "No offense, but I don't think it's wise for either of you to cross paths again."

Morgan, though confused by the unexpected connection, maintained his professional demeanor. "With all due respect, Dr. Reid and I work as a team. We both need to speak with Y/S/N to conduct a thorough investigation."

As the two men argued, Reid's gaze drifted to the recording booth. Through the glass, he caught sight of the band, and his breath caught in his throat. There, at the microphone, stood a face he thought he'd never see again—a face that to this day still haunts his most amazing dreams. 

I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you Give me just a chance

The lyrics pierced through Spencer Reid's carefully constructed walls, flooding his mind with memories he'd long tried to suppress. He was transported back to a time when life held more than just case files and criminal profiles—a time when he had someone to come home to, when he felt truly free rather than trapped within the labyrinth of his own brilliant mind. A time when he and Y/N L/N couldn't imagine a life without each other.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

Despite his best efforts, Spencer's heart threatened to burst from his chest, yearning to reunite with its other half. For that was what Y/N had been—his perfect complement. They had met when she was seventeen and he was nineteen, initially friends until, two years later, they could no longer deny the intensity of their feelings.

Their love had been a force of nature—intense, pure, raw, and undeniably real. Until life's cruel realities came knocking at their door.

Y/N was a free spirit, driven by her passion for music. She'd twirl until dizzy, her long hair a wild tangle, singing until her voice grew hoarse. Music moved her in a way nothing else could.

Meanwhile, Spencer was on the cusp of graduating from the FBI Academy, with whispers of a fast-track position in the prestigious Behavioral Analysis Unit. Two paths diverging, leading to an impossible choice.

He did what he thought he had to do, breaking things off for both their sakes. He had run the probabilities, analyzed every scenario, and a happy outcome seemed frustratingly out of reach. They wanted different things, or so he had convinced himself.

That fateful night was seared into his memory. Y/N was about to leave for New York to meet with a record label—an opportunity that Jason, her best friend and now manager, had excitedly relayed during their date. Spencer saw the yearning in her eyes, the spark of a dream about to be realized. And so, he made the agonizing decision to end things.

Her tears, her desperate pleas, her hands clutching at him as he walked away—it all haunted him still.

Was I just a fool?

I'll follow you down 'till the sound of my voice will haunt you

Spencer watched, transfixed, as Y/N sang in the recording booth. She swayed to the rhythm, smiling at her bandmates, lost in the music. Everything about her still captivated him. Their relationship had been a bittersweet dream he never wanted to wake from.

Give me just a chance

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loved you

He stood rooted to the spot, oblivious to Derek's hand on his shoulder or the sudden silence as the band stopped playing. Then, Y/N turned towards the glass, and their eyes met for the first time in years. The world seemed to stop spinning.

Her gaze flicked to Jason, her expression morphing into a glare as she mouthed, "What the fuck?" The spell broken, she grabbed her bag and bolted through the back door.

Everyone sprang into action. Jason was the first to follow, with Derek close behind. Spencer remained frozen until his partner turned him around.

"Look, I don't know what history you have here," Derek said, his voice laced with concern and confusion, "but we have a job to do. If you can't handle this, go wait in the car. If you can, let's move." He pressed the car keys into Spencer's hand before chasing after Jason.

Against his better judgment, Spencer followed. A selfish part of him needed to be near her, even if it meant causing more chaos.

As he approached, he heard Y/N's voice, sharp with anger and pain. "I don't give a fuck if he's the president of the goddamn country. I'm not speaking to him. So you can either throw them out or let me leave."

Spencer rounded the corner to see Y/N already in her car, engine running, poised to flee.

"Look, Miss," Derek began, his voice firm but empathetic, "we can't let you go. You're the only survivor of this serial killer. If you don't talk to us, more people will die. Is that something you can live with?"

Jason, his arm still through the car window, pleaded with his client. "Come on, Y/N. You and I both know they're here to help. Let's get this over with, and then we can get you out of state within hours. This is for your safety and the safety of others."

Y/N's gaze flickered between her manager, the new agent, and Spencer, who was approaching hesitantly. With a heavy sigh and her heart in her throat, she turned off the ignition and moved to open the door, forcing Jason to step back.

"Get me a whiskey and a glass of milk," she demanded, grabbing her purse and striding back into the building without a glance at the agents.

Jason turned to Derek, his expression grave. "I strongly advise against having him there," he said, nodding towards Spencer. "As you can see, it won't end well if he's present."

Derek, still loyal to his partner, bristled at the suggestion. "And I advise you not to tell an FBI agent how to do his job. We've got it from here." He turned to Spencer, concern evident in his eyes. "Is he right? Should I listen to him?"

"No. I'm fine," Spencer insisted, though his tense posture suggested otherwise.

"And what about her?" Derek pressed, before noticing Carly, the assistant, anxiously tapping her foot nearby.

"She's in room 24, waiting for you," Carly informed them, pointing towards a door. "Um... good luck!"

As they entered the room, they found Y/N and Jason in the midst of a heated discussion.

"Everything alright?" Derek intervened, causing Y/N to roll her eyes dramatically.

"Yup, everything's perfect!" Jason's forced cheerfulness was palpable. "You guys can have a seat. I'll be right outside." He looked at Y/N sternly. "Be good. And tell them everything, please."

"Yes, Dad," Y/N replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she took a sip of whiskey. Once Jason left, she glanced between Derek and Spencer. "Well, are you going to sit down, or are we having a stand-up interview?"

Derek motioned for Spencer to sit beside him, both agents studying the woman before them. Y/N held a cigarette in one hand and whiskey in the other, while a glass of milk sat on the side table—an odd combination that spoke volumes about her state of mind.

"I'm Agent Morgan, and I believe you know Dr. Reid," Derek began cautiously. "We just have a few questions about what happened to you yesterday."

Y/N took a long drag from her cigarette, exhaling slowly before tapping it on the ashtray. "And what exactly do you want to know, Agent?"

Spencer cleared his throat, drawing her attention. "Jason mentioned you survived a failed abduction. Can you walk us through what happened?"

Y/N tilted her head, her gaze fixed on Spencer with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. "We finished recording one of our songs yesterday, and the band wanted to go out for drinks. I was still hungover from the night before, so I decided to sit that one out." She took a gulp of whiskey, chasing it with milk in a bizarre ritual. "I stayed in the studio for a few hours, just writing. Around three a.m., I decided to head back to my hotel. I'd parked two blocks away, and as I approached, I noticed someone loitering near the parking lot entrance."

"Did you engage with him?" Derek interjected, earning an eye roll from Y/N.

"I'm not fucking stupid," she snapped. "I walked past as quickly as possible. He tried to talk to me, but I ignored him. Guess he didn't appreciate that, because the next thing I knew, he was behind me, trying to force a plastic bag over my head."

The room fell silent as the gravity of her words sank in. Spencer leaned forward, his analytical mind already piecing together the details. "Can you describe the attacker? Any distinguishing features, voice, or mannerisms?"

Y/N's eyes locked with Spencer's, a flicker of their shared past evident in her gaze before she quickly looked away. "He was tall, probably six feet or so. Muscular build. I didn't get a good look at his face, but his voice..." She paused, taking another drag of her cigarette. "His voice was deep, with a slight Southern drawl. Not local, though. Maybe Texas or Oklahoma."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "How did you manage to escape?"

They could see Y/N physically reliving the traumatic experience, her leg bouncing with increasing anxiety. The calm facade she had maintained began to crack under the weight of her memories.

"Hey, it's okay," Derek said softly, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Take your time."

For a moment, Y/N seemed to relax, but just as quickly, her emotional walls snapped back into place. She crushed out her cigarette and downed the rest of her whiskey in one swift motion.

"I'd heard about the murders before," she began, her voice steadier than her trembling hands. "Even before that, I always carried a pocket knife and pepper spray. Call it paranoia or just good sense in this industry." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "I managed to scratch his left arm before kicking him. When he loosened his grip, I turned and pepper-sprayed him. Then I just... ran. Got to my car and drove straight hotel. That's when I called Jason."

Derek leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "And you didn't think to call the police?"

Y/N's eyes flashed with anger. "I wanted to forget about it," she snapped. "I was planning to leave anyway. Sometimes denial feels safer than facing reality."

"Yet you still came in to record a song right after that?" Spencer's quiet question drew her attention, earning him a look that was equal parts resentment and something harder to define.

"I have a job," Y/N replied, her tone clipped as she turned back to Derek. "We have an album coming out soon, and we needed to finish recording. We love working in Nashville, so yes, I wanted to get it over with and then leave. Music... it's always been my escape."

Spencer cleared his throat, treading carefully. "Can you describe anything else about him? Any details you remember?"

Y/N's gaze softened almost imperceptibly as she looked at Spencer. "I think he was wearing a blue sweater, but I'm not certain." She paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. "What I do remember clearly is his smell. It was... odd. Like scented candles, the kind you'd find at Bath & Body Works. It was strangely out of place, but unmistakable."

Derek nodded, jotting down notes. "Alright, thank you for your time, Y/N. Here's our contact information if you remember anything else or need assistance." He stood, extending his hand, which Y/N shook briefly. As he walked to the door, he noticed Spencer hadn't moved. "Spencer?"

Spencer glanced between Derek and Y/N, who was now staring at him intently. "Give me a second," he said quietly. "I'll meet you at the car."

Derek hesitated, giving Spencer a questioning look. The younger agent's eyes pleaded for understanding, for a moment alone with the woman who had once meant everything to him. With a slight nod, Derek acquiesced and left the room.

As the door closed, the air grew thick with unspoken words and years of regret. Spencer and Y/N sat in tense silence, neither quite ready to bridge the chasm between them.

Finally, Spencer spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Y/N, I... I'm sorry. For everything. I know it doesn't change anything, but I need you to know that."

Y/N's carefully constructed mask slipped, revealing a glimpse of the pain she'd been carrying for years. "Why now, Spencer? After all this time?"

"Because I never stopped caring," he admitted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. "And seeing you in danger..." He couldn't even finish that sentence. "Please, promise me you'll be careful. 

Y/N studied him for a long moment, conflict evident in her eyes so she does what she does best. Ignore it.  "Congratulations are in order, Mr. FBI," Y/N said sardonically, reaching for another cigarette. The acrid smell of tobacco filled the air, a scent that brought back a flood of memories for Spencer.

"Smoking causes about 90% of all lung cancer deaths," he recited, unable to stop himself. "More women die from lung cancer each year than from breast cancer." It was an old argument, one they'd had countless times before.

Y/N took a long, deliberate drag, exhaling slowly as if to challenge his statistics. "We're all meant to die one day, Spence," she said, her voice tinged with a familiar fatalism. "I always told you that."

Indeed, she had. It was her motto, her way of justifying living life to the fullest, consequences be damned.

"I thought you quit," Spencer said softly, his eyes fixed on the glowing ember of her cigarette. "When did you start again?"

"A few months after my twentieth birthday," she admitted, her gaze dropping to the floor. "The record label signed us, and suddenly we went from doing a few covers a week to churning out originals every month. Needed a stress reliever."

Spencer studied her, noting the way she avoided his eyes. There was more to the story, he was certain. "Y/N/N," he said gently, using the old nickname that once came so easily to his lips, "are you okay?"

Her head snapped up, eyes narrowing. "Why would you assume I'm not?"

"Well," Spencer began, slipping into his analytical mode, "you drank that whiskey rather quickly. Your eyes are bloodshot, and you're flushed—signs of prolonged alcohol consumption. The fact that you're willing to record and drive in this state suggests it's become a habit. And then there's the cigarette addiction. So, naturally, I'm concerned about your well-being."

Silence fell between them, heavy with unspoken words and years of separation. Y/N broke first, standing abruptly and grabbing her purse. "I've told you what you needed to know," she said, her voice brittle. "I have to leave. Hopefully, Jason's already arranged my flight out of here."

As she turned to go, Spencer's hand shot out, catching her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through both of them—a spark of electricity, familiar yet now terrifyingly foreign.

Y/N's eyes traveled from his hand to his face. "Let go, Spencer," she said, her voice low and dangerous.

He couldn't. Not yet. Not when he'd finally found her again, when there was so much to explain, so much unfinished between them. But he also knew that Derek would come bursting through the door at any moment.

With reluctance, he released her wrist and pulled out a post-it note and pen from his bag. Hastily scribbling his number, he held it out to her. "Take it. Please. If you need anything—and I mean anything—call me, okay?"

Skepticism clouded Y/N's features. Did he really expect her to take his number, to even consider calling him after everything?

Seeing her hesitation, Spencer pressed on. "Look, Y/N, I know you have every reason not to trust me, to want me out of your life. But please, give me a chance to prove that I'll be there for you. We'll catch the guy who attacked you, and if you need help with anything else, anything at all, come to me. Please."

Y/N stared into his pleading eyes. A part of her recognized his sincerity, but the wounded 20-year-old inside her still ached from old betrayals.

With a resigned eye roll, she snatched the note from his hand and left without a word, leaving Spencer rooted to the spot.

As she passed a trash can in the hallway, Y/N paused, the note burning a hole in her hand. For a moment, she hovered on the brink of tossing it away. But something—sentiment, curiosity, or perhaps a stubborn refusal to let go—made her slip it into the back pocket of her jeans instead.

You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

The lyrics of her song echoed in Spencer's mind as he watched her go. And in that moment, he realized with startling clarity that he didn't want to get away. Not anymore. Not ever again.

As Y/N disappeared from view, Spencer was left alone with the lingering scent of her perfume and cigarette smoke, and the weight of years of regret. He knew that solving this case was now about more than just catching a killer—it was about second chances, redemption, and the possibility of healing old wounds.

With a deep breath, he steeled himself to face Derek and the investigation ahead, all while knowing that the most challenging case of his life might just be winning back the trust of the woman he'd never stopped loving.

Author's Note: I absolutely love Silver Springs. I belt it out all the time lol. I also was obsessed with Daisy Jones & The Six when it came out. Used to read a lot of those fanfics.

Also let me know if y'all want a part 2.

Thank for reading!

[screamsinsilver]

the comfort is enough to save us

jesse cash/noah sebastian, 720 words, rated t, outsider pov (alex reade, make them suffer)

“Coffee?” Jesse asks, lifting his cup up to his shoulder.

This piques his interest, head popping up. “You had breakfast without me?” He sounds offended, and Jesse’s smile grows.

“No,” He meets her eyes, pulls a face that says something along the lines of ‘listen to him, do you believe this?’. “I’m still following your rule here, ya’know, the breakfast together one. Coffee?”

a tiny little joah fic, set on erra's headliner earlier this year

[silverscripts]

New Lockyle Fic Just Dropped!

In which Lucy wakes Lockwood up from a nightmare, and things get spicy (before she inevitably runs, because that's what Lucy does)

[cloudcountry]

just realized i NEVER posted this to tumblr??? HELLO??? if it wasn't for ao3 this shit would have been lost media because i literally cannot find it in my google docs??? HELP???

ANYWAYS!! WELCOME TO WHAT THE TWST BOYS LEFT YOU WITH AFTER YOU BROKE UP

its bittersweet. you guys broke up on good terms. post-formatting auburn here and omfg what was i THINKING this shit HURTED. OW. CRITICAL HIT I NEED A HEALER. FUCK.

Riddle Rosehearts leaves you with an appreciation for learning, a strong sense of awe at the bookshelves lining the walls of NRC’s library. He leaves you with a pen, tucked at the bottom of your backpack that you forget about until a late night study session. You find it and giggle, remembering the time he gave it to you when yours ran out of ink, and you begin to take notes with the red-rose ink.

Trey Clover leaves you with a sense of nurture. You pick up cues from people that you never would have seen before and know exactly how to act, and it isn’t until you find yourself “babying” Ace that you step back and laugh. Of course Trey rubbed off on you, he always was taking care of you with nobody to help out him.

Cater Diamond leaves you with extensive knowledge of camera angles. When you’re taking pictures with your friends or just you, it's like you know exactly which filter would look best with every shot. Sometimes you’ll stumble upon a filter you only ever used on his pics, and you’re filled with a bittersweet happiness. Simple photo editing holds so many memories, and you can only hope he’s making new ones, too.

Deuce Spade leaves you with a motivation to protect yourself. When you started dating him all that time ago, he insisted on giving you some form of self defense lessons just so you could protect yourself. He made you more confident, even if he never knew it. You’ll always be thankful for the way he unknowingly made you stand up straighter, like you were proud to be yourself.

Ace Trappola leaves you with a lighter soul. He’s always been a goofy person, and you know full well that he’s never changed. He made you way more optimistic just by dealing with things the way he did, always being true to his heart no matter who he was speaking to. You always admired that about him, and it made you feel like you could be more like yourself even when he wasn’t there anymore.

Leona Kingscholar leaves you with a piece of his pride. He always told you to keep your head up especially when you’re scared half to death. You find yourself using his advice every time you face a situation you’d rather not be in, and slowly conquer everything that used to freak you out. You finally glow with the pride that you know he would have been so proud of if he was still with you, but you’re starting to think that maybe he’s proud of you anyway.

Ruggie Bucchi leaves you with a determination to constantly fight for better. You need to make the best of your circumstances, being transported to a world where you’re powerless with nothing but the shirt on your back. He’s taught you to be crafty and resourceful, and to never let yourself be taken advantage of. You can’t thank him enough...and really, you can’t anymore, but that’s okay.

Jack Howl leaves a carefully planned school year in his wake. You find yourself planning out your day, little events scribbled into your calendar and schedules created in the margins of your notebook. Jack had always reminded you of things and you wanted to let him know how much you valued his efforts to keep you on track, so you started writing down his schedules too. It isn’t until you flip back through your notebook to find older notes that you see “Track and Field Meet - 5pm” and feel a pang in your heart.

Azul Ashengrotto leaves you with a ton of home-economics knowledge. Long after you two have broken up, you still find yourself checking on your monthly expenses and tweaking your meal plans, and it isn’t until you’re laying in bed one night that you realize you wouldn’t be nearly as efficient as you are now if it wasn’t for your previous sweetheart.

Jade Leech leaves you with a fascination for the world around you. He took things that you didn’t think twice about and twisted them into beautiful sights, and you never quite looked at them the same way. It’s not a bad thing, it’s quite the opposite, actually. Your world has never been more beautiful, even if the boy that opened your eyes isn’t there to see it with you.

Floyd Leech leaves you with a restless need to do something. Sometimes, during your down time, you’ll set down your phone and start pacing around your room, wondering why your legs just can’t seem to sit still. Then something clicks—Floyd used to barge into your dorm and dance with you at random intervals, but he doesn’t do that as much anymore. Laughing to yourself, you slip on a coat and decide to take a walk—anything to get the fidgeting out of your system.

Kalim Al-Asim leaves you with a brighter smile and higher patience. You’d always had to chase after him on whatever misadventure he decided to go on that day, apologizing to Jamil with a wobbly smile on your face once the day was done. Kalim never failed to make things brighter, even your breakup. You two still hang out sometimes, but you aren’t as close as you used to be, even if the memories of your adventures remain.

Jamil Viper leaves you with some of his best recipes. It may seem silly or insignificant to anyone else, but you know exactly how much time he spent cooking and baking for Kalim and his entire dorm on a daily basis. He even found time to bring you and his club snacks occasionally. You still know how to make his favorite curry, and if a recipe calls for dates you scratch them out from the ingredients out of habit.

Vil Schoenheit leaves you feeling beautiful. He never once looked at you wrong, whether you had just woken up or had gotten into another mud fight with Grim or if you were wearing a swimsuit. There was nothing but love in his gaze and a reminder to keep your head up on his tongue, because in his eyes you were precious. Because to Vil, you were unapologetically beautiful (and you still are. You always will be.)

Rook Hunt leaves you with an eye for detail. After picking up on everything you did and telling you about every habit he examined, you became keenly aware of your habits and how to manage them. You’re far more observant when it comes to your own self care, and you know you wouldn’t be as diligent if it wasn’t for the insistence of your ex.

Epel Felmier leaves you with a love for nature. You’re hyper aware of how long it takes apple trees to grow and what you can do to help them along. You whisper to your plants now and sing little songs to them and you water them. Your friends have even started coming to you for pointers, and despite the fact that Epel isn’t your partner anymore, you refer them to him automatically.

Idia Shroud leaves you with an absurd amount of techy knowledge. With all the gadgets Ramshackle has because of him, you’re thankful he took the time to explain how they worked. The gifts he made for you almost make the fact that he had to end things with you because of his...family business and that you’ll likely never see him again easier to swallow.

Malleus Draconia leaves you with a greater love for the night sky. You had a person to share the sight of the stars with for once, someone who loved looking up at them just as much as you did. You can still feel the chill of his hand over yours as he reached for it, holding it like you were the most precious treasure of all. Now, when you look up at the stars, you feel a pain of longing in your chest. You miss him.

Lilia Vanrouge leaves you with knowledge of the worlds you’ll never see. You find yourself drawing parallels between this world, your world, and the mystical places Lilia used to talk about. Even Trein has been impressed by the knowledge you’ve displayed in his essays despite not being from this world, and you can only force a laugh.

Silver leaves you with a safety net, something you can use to calm down whenever. His childhood lullaby. He sang it for you time and time again when you were having trouble sleeping in an unfamiliar place when your anxiety got a bit too much. Whenever you have a nightmare now, you find yourself humming the old Briar Valley tune, in hopes that it will give you some comfort.

Sebek Zigvolt leaves you with a greater appreciation for reading (and a pile of bookmarks tucked in an old leather box he presented when he started “courting” you.) You still find yourself exiting Ramshackle on the weekends, and heading to that very same tree you two used to read under. There’s a part of you that wants to look for him, to check and see if he’s also heading to your tree, but you don’t.

[assriels]

honeyed temptations

pairing: azriel x reader 

word count: 2.2k

warnings: some smut and suggestive language (mdni 18+ only pls!!), swearing, azriel is whipped for u but is also very stubborn, domesticity/fluff

summary: despite azriel’s relative indifference to most things, he absolutely, undeniably hates the heat. and fucking loves when you wear sundresses.

a/n: continuation of my ongoing headcanon that azriel is actually kind of a stubborn baby, especially with his mate; i have a summer oneshot for cassian coming out soon! <3

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune <3

Azriel was fucking furious. It was like the sun had a personal vendetta against him, determined to steal any and all comfort from him as he baked in the hot morning sun in your shared bedroom.

Peak summer in Velaris was nothing to scoff at. Though the Night Court was hailed for the beauty of its moon and stars, the same could not be said for its seasons. It was a solar court and that meant that its moon waxed and waned through the full dearth of the seasons. And summer just so happened to be Azriel’s least favorite. 

Though he could handle the strikingly cold winters the Night Court had to offer — it snowed quite heavily in Illyria, afterall — the heat of the summer was unbearably oppressive. It didn’t help that his current residence was the House of Wind, built high on a mountain cliff where the heat rose and was entirely too close to the sun. Not even the House’s breeze helped staunch his somewhat over exaggerated agitation at the rising temperatures. 

It was still morning, but it seemed that the sun had decided that it would be especially insufferable today, showboating its prowess even at 9 in the morning. 

“C’mon Az,” you implored, gentle hand poking his bare shoulder. “Rhys is here, we have a meeting.” 

He pouted at you from where he was sprawled out on the bed, not having bothered to get up — or put clothes on — despite having been awake for an hour now. He rolled onto his side to get a better look at you, hoping that if he pouted enough you’d have mercy on him and let him stay naked and as cool as possible; the thought of putting on clothes — most of which he owned were black — made Azriel’s head ache. 

“‘s too hot.” 

You huffed a laugh at his childlike petulance. Who would have guessed the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court couldn’t handle a little heat? 

“You’re being a baby,” you chuckled, sitting on the edge of the bed as you attempted to negotiate with your mate to get out of bed. 

It was then that he took stock of your appearance. You had always been much less bothered by the heat than he was — and much more functional in it — and so your morning routines were never disrupted. You had already bathed and gotten ready, pretty little sundress skimming your curves as the hem tickled the skin on your legs. 

“You look nice,” Azriel noted with a hum of appreciation. Ordinarily, he would’ve reached over and pulled you on top of him to make both of you late for Rhys’s meeting for an entirely different reason, but he couldn’t fathom getting any more sticky and sweaty than he already was, so he resisted. Instead, he opted for toying with the hem of your dress in contemplation.

“Is this new?” He asked, taking in the sweet honey yellow linen and thin straps. You nodded your head and smoothed your hands down your front, fixing the neckline of your dress in a way that had Azriel’s eyes burning holes through your skin. 

“Do you like it? I bought it when I went out with Feyre the other day.” You intentionally left out that you had bought it with the explicit purpose of using it to tempt your mate out of bed, knowing that he always needed a little bit of incentive in the summer. 

Assessing hazel eyes tracked the familiar planes of your body, face lit with an entirely different kind of heat now, “Yeah, I like it.” 

His gaze lifted to yours and you nearly gave into him. The adoration in his eyes and the blush high on the apples of his cheeks was mesmerizing, “You’re very pretty, you know.” 

Azriel’s unfiltered affections for you always made your heart beat quicken, and your attention shifted to his hand resting comfortably on your thigh, thumb drawing innocent circles on your skin. You bent over to kiss him briefly in thanks before patting his hand and getting up off the bed. 

You could’ve sworn you heard Azriel whine in protest, but it was drowned out by the sound of you sifting through the dresser, no doubt searching for clothes to throw his way.

He watched you from his spot on the bed, eyeing the way the hem of your dress billowed from your waist and just barely covered the curve of your ass. He was convinced that he could stare at you for an eternity and still find new parts of you to marvel at. 

Before he could get too lost in his greedy appreciation of your beauty and the stunning way your dress complimented every curve and dip of your body, you were tossing clothes at his face.

“Stop staring and get dressed!” You laughed, “You know Cass is gonna give you shit for being late. Again.”

It was no secret to those closest to Azriel that he was an absolute terror when the summer rolled around. Though it only took a week or two for him to adjust and become begrudgingly functional again, the days leading up to his revival were always a source of great amusement to the Inner Circle. Ah, the perfect Shadowsinger finally reveals his flaws, Cassian would consistently tease.

He only groaned in response, rolling onto his back once again to stare at the ceiling. 

You sighed. Truthfully, you found this side of him endearing – and quite funny – but you knew he had a job to do and nothing would get done unless he was, at the very least, clothed. Sauntering over to the bed, you looked down at him with your hands on your hips. You were met only with a stubborn look in return; you could’ve sworn you glimpsed the ghost of a defiant smirk curving his lips, “Make me.”

You reeled at his challenge. Fine, you would make him. 

The bed shifted as you straddled him on all fours, careful not to let any part of you touch any part of him. His hands came up instinctively to grasp your hips as he didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smile. But you wouldn’t let him get away with it, at least not now.

You encircled his wrists in your hands, guiding them above his head to pin them to the pillow. Both of you knew he could easily wriggle out of your grasp, but Azriel was aware that this was riling you up just as much as him so he conceded. Allowed his beautiful mate to do whatever she pleased.

“Don’t touch,” you commanded in his ear, punctuating your words with a slow swirl of your tongue along the shell of his ear. “If you listen, I promise I’ll be so, so good for you.”

Unexpected emotion flooded his chest as he resisted the urge to break the tension with his affection for you. You were already so good for him. In more ways than he could have ever wanted, more ways than he ever imagined. But he kept his mouth shut, and focused only on the way he could feel the hem of your dress kissing his skin as your mouth nipped at sucked at all the places that drove him insane. 

“C’mon, Az,” you cooed, licking a sinful path up his neck before you blew on his skin, reveling in the way goosebumps rose on his flesh despite the sweltering weather. “Get up for me, huh?”

He didn’t miss the double entendre as you tracked a scathing wet trail down his body, your tongue — frustratingly — the only part of you touching him. He was being difficult and you were making him pay for it by teasing him in ways only you knew how to. Azriel groaned low and deep when your cool breath hit right beneath his bellybutton, abs flexing as he willed himself to maintain his composure. You still weren’t touching him, and he was already embarrassingly hard, body desperate to feel your skin on his. 

His brow furrowed with concentration and lust as he met your gaze right before your lips puckered and you took the head of his cock – pretty and swollen and throbbing just for you – into your mouth. Azriel’s head flopped back onto his pillow as he loosed a long, deep breath, a cross between a sigh and a moan so pleasing to hear that you nearly forgot your initial intentions. 

One well placed stroke of your tongue had your eyes meeting his yet again, all dark pupils and a thin ring of gorgeous hazel. You were the picture of perfect seduction, pretty lips split open on his cock, bent over him in such a way that gave him an unobstructed view of your cleavage beneath your dress. You released him with a sinfully wet pop! as you pulled back and smiled at him, sweet and teasing before you blew gently on his tip. Azriel shuddered.

Oh, Mother above. He was milliseconds away from flipping you onto your back and tearing your godsforsaken dress right off you — or maybe he’d keep it on — but you were faster, jumping just out of his reach and off the bed, as if you hadn’t just addled his mind with fantasies of all the ways he could fuck you in that dress. 

The wicked smirk of satisfaction curving your lips told him that you’d had your intended effect. Azriel was barely able to recalibrate his bearings in time for him to notice you heading towards the door. He sputtered in disbelief, “Where are you going?”

Before you traipsed out the bedroom door, you turned back to look at him, “To be continued, mate. After you get dressed.”

When you shut the door behind you, Azriel could have sworn he heard your giddy, maniacal laughter echo in time to the sound of your footsteps down the stairs. Now he had two problems: 1) he was still hot as the fires of Hell and 2) he was achingly hard and knew he’d have to make a concerted effort not to look too long at you in that dress all day if he wanted to cling to what little composure he had.

He sighed as his shadows swirled around his ears, barely offering any reprieve from the heat. 

Pretty mate. So, so pretty. Everyone thinks so. 

Make that three problems: 3) Cassian would be making innocent comments about you looking so good in that dress just to irritate him. 

The possession roiling around in his gut – courtesy of the mating bond – was his final straw as he scrubbed a frustrated hand down his face. Fucking fine, he would put the damn clothes on. 

☾𖤓 epilogue ☾𖤓

“Where’s that overgrown child you call a mate, anyway?” Cassian quipped after you made your appearance in the dining room for breakfast. 

“Exactly where you think he is,” you laughed over a bite of toast.

“What’s wrong with Azriel?” Feyre implored innocently, “Is he not feeling well?” 

Rhys chuckled and shook his head, “Azriel is not very fond of the summer—“

“That’s an understatement,” you and Cassian mumbled under your breaths in tandem.

“—and it’s a nightmare getting him to do anything in heat like this. But luckily we have Y/N.”

Before your High Lady could ask the question on the tip of her tongue, Cassian stole a piece of bacon off your plate, ignoring the way you protested, “I mean, you’ve seen how whipped he is Feyre. He’ll do anything if Y/N even suggests she wants him to. Az only gets out of bed in the summer because she asks.”

In retribution for your stolen bacon, you speared the rest of Cassian’s eggs and forked them into your mouth before he could inch away from you. You didn’t respond, knowing all too well that Azriel actually would not get out of bed even if you asked, leaving you to resort to other…tactics. 

“I’m not a child, you know.” Came Azriel’s petulant interruption as he greeted you with a brief kiss to your head and the rest of his family with a grunt of acknowledgement, “I can do things on my own, in case you forgot.”

“We’ll stop calling you one, once you stop acting like it,” Cassian taunted.

Azriel’s scoff was his only response as he sat down next to you at the table, plating two pieces of bacon in front of you to replace the one he knew Cassian had no doubt probably taken. You smiled up at him gratefully, and despite the still sweltering heat that had only seemed to have gotten worse as time progressed, he smiled back. 

Feyre was in awe; it was like the heat had melted away his stony exterior, leaving the real Azriel exposed for everyone to see. Feyre met your gaze across the table, a mischievous glint in her eyes that told you she was more than privy to the extraneous measures you had taken to coax your mate out of bed.

“How do you do it?” Cassian not-so-quietly whispered to you. 

“I have my ways,” you responded cryptically with a smirk as Azriel’s hand ventured beneath the hem of your dress, squeezing your thigh.

You would most definitely be paying for your little shenanigan in the bedroom later.  

[saradika-graphics]

if possible could you do a blue/silver butterfly divier? <3!!

hello! I can definitely do that - I did a couple different shades for you so you'll have options! 🦋

[Free] Masterlist Headers & Dividers!

Please consider liking or reblogging if you use 💕