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b00kdiary · 4 months

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Could I request Azriel and Plus Size reader where they’re both new to the mate bond and she overheard Azriel and Rhys’ conversation about the “Cauldron being wrong.” She left before she was able to hear Azriel call himself a fool for even believing it for a second, knowing that he’s already kissing the ground his own mate walks on. She starts comparing herself to Elain and then starts lashing out, going to Rita’s every night and avoiding Azriel whenever she sees him.

Cauldron Blessed | Azriel

Azriel (ACOTAR) x Plus Size Reader

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body-image issues, angst, and eventual smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

'The Cauldron was wrong, so wrong.'

Those words played and replayed in my mind again and again, all day, every day, for the last week.

Wrong.

He said that the Cauldron was wrong- about us, about me.

Me, his mate- wrong.

It had been an accident, me overhearing them that night, a coincidence I had decided to come home early from my girl's night with Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. Though with the Cauldron, there was no such thing as an accident, no such thing as coincidence.

I'd waded through the House of Wind, tipsy on wine and giggling softly to myself as I banged into the walls, thumping clumsily against the art pieces hanging and tripping over my own two feet. Giddy, I had been giddy, stumbling through the halls in search of him.

Azriel, my mate.

Only a few hours apart and I missed him, yearned for him, I felt the distance as if it spanned miles and the more I drank, the more I craved him. That's all I had been thinking of when I trekked through the empty halls, closer and closer to the lounge- just of my mate.

And that's when I heard it.

"The Cauldron works in mysterious ways," Rhysand's laugh drifted out to me in the corridor, and I came to an unsteady halt at the sound. "Feyre was my salvation; I didn't expect anything good to come to me Under the Mountain."

I smiled to myself, my hand coming to my mouth, shielding any sound that threatened to slip past- Az always teased that my lips loosened when I drank too much. Instead, I lean against the cold wall, warmth filling me as he gushed about my High Lady.

They were Cauldron blessed, that was clear to see.

"I think five hundred years of waiting for her was enough, brother," Cassian snorted, and I heard the faint sound of liquor pouring into a glass, wings rustling as one of the powerful males moved. "I know I never imagined my mate as a twenty-five-year-old human female, with a bite worse than mine."

I bit my lip as Cassian laughed, a loud, bellowing sound, so full of joy, so full of content, the mere memory of Nesta, human and utterly indomitable against him something that still brought him to his knees.

"The Cauldron must have a sense of humour," Rhysand teased, and I could practically envision Cassian rolling his eyes, a vulgar gesture thrown between the two males. "Connecting people in the most unexpected pairs, in the most unexpected ways."

"Like Elain and Lucien," Cass scoffs, loudly chugging back the remnant in his glass, "There's a pair I could never have foreseen, not in a thousand years."

"Proof that the Cauldron isn't always right," Azriel muses for the first time since I arrived, and my body almost croons at the sound- low and rough, moving over me as sure as if it were his hands. "She deserves better than any male friends with Tamlin, that's for sure."

She deserves better.

It was silly I knew, for the mere mention of her, the thought of her to make me feel nauseous, make my smile instantly fade, but I couldn't help it. It was hard for me to see a female as lovely as Elain Archeron and not feel inadequate by comparison.

Another who was blessed, so lovely that she had been gifted her seer abilities by the Cauldron itself as if her beauty and delicate demeanour weren't gift enough.

"Brave words, Az," Rhys whistled, and I had to force myself to blink away the picture-perfect image I had conjured of the middle Archerson sister, forcing myself to focus on their conversation instead. "Openly opposing the Cauldron."

"Brave or stupid?" Cassian counters tauntingly, and I knew he was drunk just from how loud his voice was, practically bouncing off the walls. "You think the Cauldron makes mistakes?"

"I know it does," Azriel challenges and it was that voice, that sure, quiet demeanour that I adored and desired so fiercely. I inch closer to the door, grinning at the idea of popping out and scaring them- but then he says it.

Says the thing that makes me stop dead in my tracks, makes my heart stop dead in my chest.

"Look at me and Y/N," Azriel sighs, and there's no joy, or adoration or yearning in his voice in memory of me, not like Rhys or Cass- no, there's dread. "The Cauldron made us mates... the Cauldron was wrong, so wrong."

There's a loud crack that echoes through the room, and it's that sound, and the feel of sharp debris against my palm, that pulls me from my memories. I blink through the tears, looking down at the crumbling marble sink, the corner pieces breaking off into my hands.

I sob through my teeth at the sight, small cuts leaking stark red blood down my fingers as I bring my hands to my chest. I can't see the looking- glass before me, not through the haze of tears, tears so strong it's as if I were made of them.

As if they had become a part of me.

It was all I had done the past week, cry and cry and cry- and avoid Azriel.

Every morning I skip training and breakfast, feigning fatigue or a full stomach, just so I wouldn't see him there. Each afternoon I'd get lost in the stacks and stacks of books in the library, so vast and endless that Azriel never stood a chance of finding me in the maze.

And at night I'd find solace wherever I could find a drink- Rita's, taverns, the Music Quarter, anywhere. Anywhere but at home, anywhere that I didn't have to see him.

I couldn't bear it, couldn't bear the sight of his face, even now the thought of his tilted smile, the beam of his soft hazel eyes, the touch of his scared hands and wild shadows, it made my whole body wrecked with sobs.

I couldn't bear any of it anymore- because none of it was real.

Every smile and touch, every kiss and moment where our bodies joined as one, where he confessed his love and devotion to me, it wasn't real. Azriel thought we were wrong, a mistake, a confusion, just wrong.

My hands shook as I wiped the tears from my cheeks, rougher than necessary, blood-smearing, but I was tired of tears, I was tired of crying, of feeling so unworthy. I was unworthy of him; he was beautiful inside and out and deserved so much better than me.

I sniffed as I lifted my gaze to the looking glass before me, and my heart hurt at the reflection, knowing that this was what Azriel saw, that this was why he knew the Cauldron was wrong. Every curve and roll and inch of flesh that I had, all of it, it was all wrong.

And I hated myself for it.

Wrapping my arms around myself, I take a step back and then another step, away from the reflection that taunted me, and mocked me, before forcing myself to look away. I swallowed against the dryness in my throat as I moved across the cold floor of my bathing suit, my body desperate for my bed.

And as I step over the door's threshold, and back into my old room in the House of Wind, I know it's not the same as when I had left it ten minutes ago.

He was here.

"Azriel," I gasped, halting at the sight of him- sat on the edge of my bed, his broad shoulders and powerful wings rising sharply at the sound of my voice, those hazel eyes meeting mine and filling with something honeyed and warm. "Wha- what are you doing here?"

He rises from the bed, elegant and still, his shadows dancing around him at the feel of my presence, the scent of my skin, and I shiver as he watches me, keen eyes gracing my stiff figure.

"Y/N," He sounds almost relieved as he says my name and my breath is caught in my lungs as I stay rooted to my spot, and he seems to sense my unease, as he doesn't move any closer to me. "You've been staying here for a week now; I missed you at home."

Home- the apartment we shared in town together, a cosy space that we had made our own.

Another thing I couldn't bear to face.

"I've been catching up with the girls," I say quietly, ripping my eyes from him and walking forward on numb legs. I tug at the hem of my nightshirt, his nightshirt I had stolen, feeling too bare before him and his eyes narrow at the movement. "It's just easier to sleep here when we have plans every day."

As spymaster it was Azriel's job to scrutinise, to observe and I felt every single part of that slot into place as he watched me now, watched as I moved toward the bed. I wasn't looking at him, I couldn't hold his stare- and he couldn't figure out why.

His shadows dance through the room, through the distance between us and I jolt, biting my lip when one brushes against my bare thigh- before scurrying back to Azriel in surprise. He inhales a sharp breath when his shadow whispers to him, telling him that something is wrong, I was wrong.

"I know you've been spending time with the girls," Azriel continues slowly, his voice tentative and soft as I move to the other side of the bed, furthest from where he stood. "I just feel like I haven't seen you at all... I miss you, sweetheart."

Sweetheart.

A sob threatened to rip from me at the name, so soft, so endearing on his lips and it took everything in me to not fall apart at that moment, to not crumble under the weight of it all. I shake my head, my back turned to him now and he watches as I tug back the duvet, my actions angry now.

"It's only been a week Azriel," I breathe through my clenched teeth, my tone so at odds with his and my body locking tighter at the sound of his impending footsteps. "Sometimes space can be good, it can be eye-opening, show us things we don't want to admit but know deep down."

My words hit him head-on, like a slap across the face- I don't need to see him to know it, I can tell just from the stillness in the room, the silence, so strong that even his shadows have withered.

I clench my eyes at the feeling, at the touch that strokes against my soul, him reaching out to me through the mating bond- and me slamming up every wall I have to keep him away.

"What does that mean?!"

I don't hear him until he's right behind me and when his large hand touches the small of my back, I jolt, stumbling into the bed to get away from it. I turn on shaking legs to face him, and I'm pressed into the mattress to keep the distance.

"What? Y/N-" His face pales, and I see the pain in his eyes, unlike anything I had ever witnessed from him before. It was raw, vulnerable as if five hundred years of existence couldn't hide the hurt, knowing that I had flinched from his touch, flinched from him.

A rejection- something he feared the most.

"Sweetheart, please, I don't understand," He shook his head, his beautiful face twisted into an agonised frown, and his voice trembled, weak, as weak as the hand that now reached for me, shaking as if scared to touch me. "Why won't you let me touch you? Why are you pulling away from me, why-"

He stops, and for a moment I think it's because of the tears steadily leaking down my face, the way my bottom lip trembles with the effort to hold myself together- but it's not. His nose flared, and the hazel in his eyes turned dark, narrowing down upon my hands.

"You're bleeding," He mumbles hoarsely and the pain in my chest triples when his scarred hands inch closer, my eyes fluttering shut the second he touches me, holding my palms in his and examining the small cuts. "What happened, sweetheart-"

"Don't! Don't- don't call me that, don't touch me," I croak out, my voice breaking and Azriel flinches at the cry in my voice, wings rustling when I yank my hands-free from his hold, as if his touch burned me. "Stop pretending, stop making me think you care, just-just stop."

"I don't understand, what do you mean pretending-" He pleads, his voice splintering, and I can see him thrumming with emotion, desperate to reach out to me, to hold me, but trying to respect what I had asked him. "I don't understand, help me understand what I did wrong-"

"I know how you feel about me, a-about us," I sob, my weak hands coming to my face, and I cry into them, so loud that nothing can muffle them, and I feel Azriel's' helplessness down the bond, still reaching for me, "It was cruel, to make me think-to make me think you loved me-"

"I do love you!" He snarls and my eyes snap open when I feel the familiar roughness of his hands against my wet cheeks, his grip unrelenting and needing as he draws me to him- and I don't have the strength to fight him. "Of course, I love you, why would you say that?"

His thumbs brush away the tears that won't stop leaking from my cheeks and somehow my fingers have found purchase in the material of his shirt, nails digging desperately, clutching him as tightly as he held me.

"You said it was wrong," I whisper, the words slurring in my throat, and I force my heavy eyes to his, force myself to look into those teary hazel eyes and confront him, with the burden I had been carrying alone this whole time. "You said that we were wrong, that the Cauldron was wrong."

His forehead creases, lines forming between the thick, dark brows as he peers down at me, and his hands don't release me, if anything they draw me closer.

And I see the moment realisation hits him, like ice-cold water seeping through his veins.

"I heard you talking to Rhys and Cass, you said we were proof," I gasp, feeling his shadows curl and wreath around my wrists and fingers, as if afraid to let go, as if trying to comfort me as I sniff. "You said we were proof that the Cauldron could be wrong, so wrong."

"I didn't mean you, Y/N, I would never mean you," He beseeches, his breath caressing my face, my lips and his eyes are so intense, so vibrant that I can't look away, "I didn't mean you, I meant me, I'm wrong!"

I suck in a harsh breath at his outburst and I feel it then- the self-deprecation, the vulnerability, the fear, it was all aimed at himself, it was all about him.

The silence stretches on as we stare at each other and my face must hold every ounce of my surprise and confusion, because he sighs, his forehead resting against mine. I see his wings sag behind him, as if defeated.

"I don't know how much you heard but I did not mean that the Cauldron was wrong to pair you with me," He mutters, his words unsteady, and my eyes flutter shut at his words, "I meant that the Cauldron was wrong to pair me with you- the Cauldron has blessed me but forsaken you."

"Azriel-" I gasped, and it was now my hand that lifted between us, my hand that cupped his stubbled cheek, forcing his eyes to mine. "That's not true, I'm not forsaken, I'm blessed, I'm Cauldron-blessed, Mother-blessed to have you-"

"Y/N you deserve the world, the sun and the moon and the stars," Azriel's voice breaks, a sob gurgling in his throat as he nestles against my palm, now wet with his tears. "I have spent five hundred years being unworthy of anything, and now that I have you, I will spend the next five hundred being unworthy of you."

He felt unworthy of me, he thought that he did not deserve me.

"Don't say that don't- you've given me the world and more," I shake my head, forcing every inch of surety and strength into my voice, "I love you, so much, so much that the thought of you thinking we were wrong, it killed me Az, because you're all I need."

He shakes his head against my hold, but his hands slip down my back, down my waist and to my hips and thighs, fingers digging into my flesh, holding onto my meat for leverage and pressing my soft body against his firm one for dear life.

"Not once did I ever think you were the problem, I thought it was me," His brow furrows deeper at my words, and I see the denial in his eyes, in his face, "I see a male who is beautiful inside and out, who is powerful and skilled, who has been a saviour to this Court in so many ways and I can't come close, I can't ever be equal to that Az."

"Y/N, no-" He growls, nails carving crescent moons into my flesh.

"I'm not a warrior like Nesta or a ruler like Feyre," I continue, and I open up the walls I erected to keep him out from my soul and mind, letting the mating bond flow freely again- to let him see all I had thought these few days. "I'm not beautiful like Elain... I'm not enough."

"You are everything," He hisses, and I can feel his overwhelming pain as sure as if it were my own as he graces over my feelings and thoughts- as he takes in every disgusting, horrific thing I had thought about myself, about my body. "You are everything and more to me, Y/N."

Power flashes through his eyes and then his head ducks toward me, capturing my lips in his.

Time seems to slow when his lips meet mine in a gentle collision, the kind of impact that steals the breath from my lungs, the kind I can't get enough of. Azriel grumbles at the taste of wine on my mouth, his tongue lapping at mine as if devouring the sweetness.

"Azriel," I sigh, like putty in his capable hands, and like always, he's skilled with how he handles my body, so easily turning us so my legs hit the mattress, my body weightless as he lifts me to sit on the edge.

"I have seen you navigate politics and arrogant High Lords in a way that has us all on our knees," He mutters against my lips, and I croon at the feel of his hands languishing up my thighs and hips, squeezing the flesh, his eyes dark with desire now.

His nose brushes against my cheek, so bare, as he kisses and trails his tongue along my jaw, moving down my neck and I can't do anything but moan softly as he lies me flat on my back, his powerful body towering over me, covering me wholly.

"I have seen you cut down soldiers triple your size as if they were little more than weeds in a field," His canines scrape against the racing pule-point at my neck and my eyes flutter, neck exposing for him and back arching when his hand cups my breast over my shirt.

He settles between my thighs, and he groans when his hard length brushes my wet core, the smell of arousal heavy in the air, the kind of stimulation that made us both dizzy with need. I arch my hips up to meet him, needing to feel something, anything from him.

"And I have seen males and females alike marvel at your beauty, at your body, desiring to see you without a scrap of clothing on," Azriel's voice turns furious, dark, as if the mere thought of someone else seeing me naked made him violent, honed to kill.

"Az, please," I mewl, fingers clawing at his back, feeling the muscles ripple under my touch, his shadows in a frenzy, caressing and dancing and wreathing around my body, feeding off every moan that escaped me. "I need you Az, please."

He presses long, wet kisses against my jugular and I sigh in relief when I feel his body shift, hips lifting and the sound of a belt clinking as he unhooks his slacks, freeing his hard length from within.

"I love you, sweetheart," His head lifts, face tight with sincerity and I can feel the thumping of his heart against mine, those intense eyes capturing me wholly. "I love all of you, I love all that you are-"

"Body," His fingers hook into my underwear, and I gasp as he tugs the wet material to the side, fingers brushing my clit.

"Mind," Our sounds meld as he rubs the tip of his cock against me, parting my folds, spreading my arousal from my entrance to my clit, and his breathing deepens as I whimper.

"And soul." He pushes into my entrance, stretching me just from the tip and automatically, my thighs clamp around his hips and my back arches at the feeling of him.

"I love you, Y/N," He pushes in until his long, thick length hits my cervix and my cunt is stretched thoroughly, throbbing around him. I trace my hands up his arms, nails scratching along every muscle, every strong, lean plane of him.

"I love you too, Azriel," I whisper back, and when my eyes flutter open, I see him above me and I know that nothing else, no one else could feel this right.

He doesn't move, merely staring down at me, his eyes burning like embers- feeling the thought as intensely as I did.

The Cauldron was right, so right.

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@mis-lil-red @hyemishii @assaultsofthought @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @loveareum @infintyfandoms @sarawritestories @eerievixen

Comment to be added to the tag-list >3

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel smut #cassian acotar #rhysand #acotar smut #smut #plus size reader #azriel x plus size reader #acotar fanfiction #sarah j maas #sjmaas #plus size smut #plus size y/n

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serpentandlily · 6 months

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Last Solstice - Azriel x Reader, Eris x Reader

Last Solstice - Azriel x Reader, Eris x Reader

Summary: Last Solstice you had been ready to give Azriel your heart, only to stumble upon him and Elain in a near kiss. This Solstice, you’re ready to give your heart to someone else, someone special—your mate, Eris Vanserra.

Warnings: some angst, happy ending

A/n: Based on THIS request !! This was so fun to write !! Hope you guys enjoy this Christmas present 🎄☃️

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Last Christmas I gave you my heart

But the very next day you gave it away

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You had first met Feyre at her art studio, after attending a few lessons. The two of you had been quick friends and it wasn’t long before she started inviting you to her family get togethers.

Which is where you met Azriel, the Shadowsinger. One drunken night at Rita’s had ended with the two of you tumbling into bed together. What started as a one time drunken decision soon led to another night in the shadowsinger’s bed, sober this time.

When you and Azriel had started sleeping together, he had made you promise him to keep it between the two of you. You didn’t question it at first. Azriel was a private person; he’d never been forthcoming about his lovers in the past, according to Feyre. You figured eventually, if things lasted, he would want to tell his family, your now friends. You’d want to tell them too.

But then a few months went by.

A year.

As more time passed, you began to feel deeply for Azriel and wanted to take your relationship to the next step. To be able to loudly proclaim your love to him. To go on dates in public. To finally tell your family. But every time you asked him about it, he always said the same thing. He wasn’t ready, didn’t want the attention that would come with it. So you pushed your own feelings down and tried to pretend you were still okay with the arrangement you two had.

A secret love, only ever together once night fell.

It didn’t help that Elain Archeron seemed to be smitten with him, seemed to follow him around like a little puppy. You didn’t miss the looks she sent his way, didn’t miss the way she’d brush up against him at every chance she got. But you couldn’t say anything, not when Azriel wanted to keep things so private. So you sucked it all up for him, no matter how much it bothered you.

But when Solstice came around, you decided you’d finally confess your feelings for Azriel, would tell him that you loved him and wanted to be with him in all the ways that mattered. You were tired of watching Elain lust after him, tired of not being able to tell your family what was going on.

The entire night, you were buzzing with nerves.

You downed one too many glasses of wine, trying to relax. A part of you was worried about what Azriel would say. Did he love you too? Did he also want to take the next step? Was he finally ready?

You wished you could answer those questions with certainty but there was an ache in your stomach that kept screaming that something was…wrong.

You tried to convince yourself that you were just being paranoid when you noticed Azriel staring at Elain with longing and desire. Tried to convince yourself that he stayed isolated by the doorway because he hated Lucien and not because he couldn’t stand to be in a room with Elain while Lucien was here.

After all, he was in your bed most nights. Surely if he wanted Elain, he wouldn’t be stringing you along. Azriel wasn’t like that. He was a good male, a respectable male…right?

Later that night, you paced in the guest room you were staying in as you waited for Azriel. He was taking longer than normal and that had you even more on edge. You bit your lip, running a hand through your hair. Everyone else had retired for the night already and usually he would’ve snuck into your room by now.

You couldn’t sit still, couldn’t take the anticipation so you left the room, heading towards the kitchen for a glass of water to try and deal with your nerves and the alcohol still swirling in your system. You froze at the top of the stairs, blood draining from your face.

There was Azriel.

And Elain.

Inches from each other as Azriel draped a necklace around her neck.

She pivoted in his grip, twisting to face him. You saw it then. The look of affection and longing clear as day on Azriel’s face as he gazed down at her. A look he had never given you. Your heart snapped into pieces in your chest, nausea rising in your stomach. A hand flew to your mouth to quiet any noise you might make.

You took a step back.

Another.

And collided with a hard chest. You whirled around, trying to blink away the tears still forming in your eyes, to see Rhys standing there. He stared down at you, his expression melting into one of concern as he noticed your upset face.

“Y/n?” he murmured. “Are you okay?”

“F-fine,” you choked out. “I’m fine.”

And then you brushed past him and nearly ran to your room, quietly shutting the door behind you before taking in quick breaths. Elain and Azriel were just friends, you tried to convince yourself even though your heart and mind were screaming otherwise.

You heard Rhys stop on the landing on the stairs just as you had. A second went by and you heard his retreating footsteps to his office.

You cracked open your door a bit, against your better judgment, only to see Elain rush by, distraught. Your eyes widened and you waited a breath to see if Azriel was following after her, but no one else came by.

You wiped the tears on your cheeks and quietly stepped in the hallway.

Every instinct was screaming at you to go to Rhys’s office, as if something inside of you knew what you’d find. The pressure in your head was so strong, your stomach turning over itself again and again, and you knew you couldn’t ignore the gut feeling.

You crept along the wall, silently, just as Azriel had taught you, until you heard voices. You paused in your tracks, listening in.

“...about to kiss Elain, in the middle of a hall where anyone could see you,” Rhys snarled. “Including her mate.”

“What if the Cauldron was wrong?”

That was Azriel’s voice. You covered your mouth with a hand, every nerve in your body lit up. You felt stuck in a nightmare, a terrible dream.

“What of Y/n, Az?”

Your heart froze at the mention of you.

“What about her?”

The nonchalance in Azriel’s voice caused a new wave of nausea.

“Don’t play stupid,” Rhys snapped. “I’ve seen the two of you sneaking off together.”

Silence for a moment. “It’s just sex.”

You weren’t sure your heart could break more, but it had and it did. Ripped and smashed and crumbled into dust. Just sex? Just sex? It had never been just sex to you! It certainly never seemed that way.

“Does Y/n know that?”

“What are you trying to say?” Azriel growled. “We’re just friends. I don’t care about Y/n…not like that. Not the way I care about Elain.”

You backed away, unable to listen to anymore of it. You felt drunk as you stumbled back to your room, your vision blurry with the tears in your eyes. It felt like the whole world was collapsing, like you had just found out everything in your life had been a lie. In a way, you had.

Azriel had never once made it seem like this was some friends with benefits situation. Not once had he ever told you he only saw you as a body to use for pleasure and nothing more, nothing deeper.

You had fallen for him. You thought he had fallen for you.

Gods, you were so stupid. Of course, he wanted Elain. Soft, sweet Elain. His opposite, a proper lady in waiting. You had let yourself be blinded by your feelings for him and now you were paying the price. You stumbled into your room and fell on your bed, erupting into quiet sobs.

Everything made sense now. Keeping it a secret so Elain would never know, so you wouldn’t ruin his chance with her. But why had he pretended to like you? Why would he do that to you?

He made you feel special but now you realized you had just been a shoulder to cry on and a distraction for what his heart really wanted.

You had been so ready to give Azriel your heart…you already had. But he didn’t want it. He didn’t want you.

Azriel never came that night.

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Happy Christmas, I wrapped it up and sent it

With a note saying "I love you", I meant it

Now I know what a fool I've been

But if you kissed me now, I know you'd fool me again

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You wished you could say that is where the story ended. But evidently, you were a fool. Because you let him back into your bed a few days later—didn’t speak a word of your feelings for him or what you had heard.

You wished you had more dignity, wished you could tell him to get lost. But you loved him.

Two more months went by before you finally pulled yourself together, tried to muster up the will to leave. You deserved better. You deserved someone who loved you and wanted you. You were tired of being second place to some other girl, tired of being a consolation prize.

You were worth more than that.

You reached out to a childhood friend who had moved back to Autumn, asking to move in with her for some time as you got your life together. The next day, your apartment was emptied and you were gone.

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Last Christmas, I gave you my heart

But the very next day, you gave it away

This year, to save me from tears

I’ll give it to someone special

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“Which ones would you say are your favorite?”

You jumped slightly, clutching a hand to your chest. You looked towards where the deep voice had come from and nearly stumbled back. Eris Vanserra was standing beside you, hands clasped behind his back, a half smirk on his handsome face.

He was dressed in a fine deep green coat and a white tunic, the top buttons undone to showcase the gold jewelry dangling from his neck. His red hair was tousled, likely from a recent horseback ride and his amber eyes were gleaming with a small flame.

“H-high Lord,” you gasped, starting to courtesy but he shook his head before nodding towards the flower cart you were working at.

“Which flowers are your favorite?” He asked again, a hint of amusement in his voice at how flustered he had made you.

You blushed a light pink, turning your gaze back to the many bouquets you had for sale. You figured he was buying some flowers for a lady in his life.

“Well, um, what’s the occasion?” You asked, fiddling nervously in his presence. He smelt like wildfire and cinnamon—it was intoxicating.

“I am taking a girl out on a first date tonight,” he said, his voice smooth like whiskey. He gave you a charming, fox-like smile. “I wanted to bring her flowers. I figured no one would have better taste than the flower cart girl herself. So which do you recommend?”

You bit your lip, looking at the many flowers. “Well, I’d say roses but that’s a bit cliche. Our orange and red carnations are usually favored by the ladies of this court. Perhaps a bouquet of those?”

“Are those your favorite? The carnations?”

You peered at him. He was focused on the flowers, rubbing a thumb against his bottom lips. You had seen Eris Vanserra at his coronation, but only from afar. He had been striking then. But this close, well, he was stunning, beautiful.

He glanced down at you, raising an eyebrow and you remembered he had asked you a question. You cleared your throat.

“No,” you answered. “My favorite are the fire lilies but they are not as popular.”

“I’ll take a bouquet of those,” he said with certainty, pulling a pouch of coin from his pocket.

“Are…are you sure?” You stuttered. “Are you certain she will like them?”

“Quite certain, yes,” he answered with another fox-like grin. He set down money on the cart, far more than what they were priced at.

You were quick to bundle up some of the fire lilies, adding a few complimentary flowers to fill in the empty spaces. You rolled them into some brown butcher paper and handed it over to him. “Here you are.”

“So, when and where can I find you tonight?”

“S-sorry, what?”

You looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

“When and where can I find you tonight,” Eris purred, “for our date.”

“Are you…being serious?” You asked, incredulously, because this had to be some sort of joke. The High Lord couldn’t possibly be asking you out on a date.

Eris reached forward with his free hand, grabbing yours and bringing it up to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss on your knuckles. “Indeed, I am.”

Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies swarming your stomach. You hadn’t had such a reaction to a male like this since Azriel. But looking at Eris, you wondered what you ever saw in the dark haired shadowsinger. Perhaps you had never needed shadow. Maybe you had needed…flame.

The next few months were a whirlwind of romance. Despite the reputation Eris had before he had been made High Lord, he had proved himself to be much more soft hearted then his cruel father. You were surprised by his kindness, his devotion and the heart he showed you.

It had been easy to fall in love with him.

So when the mating bond between the two of you snapped into place, it was only the cherry on top.

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

A face on a lover with a fire in his heart

A man under cover, but you tore me apart

Oh, oh now I've found a real love

You'll never fool me again

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You were standing on the doorstep of the River House, a place you hadn’t been since that fateful night. You could hear the laughter from the Inner Circle inside. After you had left the Night Court, you had stayed in touch with almost everyone except Azriel. So when Feyre invited you over for Winter Solstice, you couldn’t say no—especially considering it was her birthday.

But you told yourself you wouldn’t stay long. Not when you had a fiance waiting for you back home. You were very eager to get back.

You knocked on the door, listening as the voices quieted down and footsteps approached. The door was pulled open and there was Feyre, dressed in a cozy get-up with a small babe perched on her hip.

“Y/n!” Feyre lurched forward to give you a side hug. You hugged her back, pressing a small kiss to the top of Nyx’s head before handing over a wrapped present. She took it with a smile.

“Happy Birthday,” you sang. “And Happy Solstice.”

“Thank you! I’m so glad you decided to come,” she stepped back, letting you cross into the house.

You hung up your coat and followed her towards the sitting room. You paused for a second, noting Azriel who was lingering in the doorway. You waited for the hurt to wash through you but none came. You felt…nothing. No, gone was the heartache and pain. Where an emptiness had lingered before, a new love filled it. A love so bright and fiery, it burned through everything else.

Your shoulders dropped and you breezed past him with a polite greeting.

You were actually here to make an announcement, before you and Eris were to go public with your engagement to the other courts. You wanted to tell Feyre and Rhys personally before they heard about it from someone else.

You were given a warm welcome and you ignored the feeling of Azriel’s eyes lingering on you throughout the night. Instead, you were content with sitting with Lucien—the only person in this room who knew about your engagement to his brother.

You were surprised to see Elain sat next to him, their hands entwined. You peered at Azriel, making eye contact, but his face was completely unreadable.

A wine glass was shoved into your hands and the night went on. It wasn’t until you made your way to the bathroom that you actually spoke to Azriel.

“Y/n,” he called out from behind you. You turned, watching him approach with his hands held behind his back, shadows swirling.

“Azriel,” you greeted, smiling blandly.

“Feyre told me you moved back to Autumn.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Why did you never say anything before you left? I thought…well—”

He trailed off and you raised an eyebrow at him. “Thought what?”

“Well I thought, maybe, there had been something going on between the two of us,” Azriel said. “But you left so suddenly and without word.”

Why did he care now? Because Elain was with her mate and no longer an option? Regardless, you didn’t care for the reason. You had found a love that transcended the stars and universe. Though you had no ill will towards Azriel, you obviously weren’t going to entertain this conversation.

“Something going on between us?” You questioned. “Az…you know it was only ever just sex, right? I thought…I thought that had been obvious.”

Alright, so maybe you were a bit petty.

“No, you’re right,” he said, awkwardly. “I just thought… well, nevermind.”

You smiled, playing dumb. “Happy Solstice, Azriel.”

He gave you a dip of the head. “Happy Solstice, Y/n.”

With that, you turned on your heel and continued down the corridor. When you got back from the bathroom, you knew it was time to make the announcement and head back home so you could celebrate Solstice with your new family.

You clanged against your wine glass to get everyone’s attention, standing up from your seat. Lucien gave you an encouraging nod that helped settle your nerves.

“I have an announcement to make,” you said before taking the glamour off your hand and revealing the large engagement ring on your finger. You heard several happy gasps of air. “I’m engaged! I wanted to tell you all before you heard through court gossip. You’re looking at the soon-to-be High Lady of Autumn.”

Cheers erupted in the room as most of them had already known about your relationship with Eris. You had told Feyre about it in one of your letters. Luckily, Mor and Eris had settled their differences once he became High Lord and there was now peace between the two courts.

“Oh my Gods! This is so exciting!”

Feyre jumped up and embraced you. You let out a small breath of relief and hugged her back. Once she let you go, some of the others also jumped up to congratulate you.

“When did he propose?” Mor asked.

“Two weeks ago,” you smiled before dropping another bomb. “Right after the mating bond snapped into place.”

“Mates and he’s going to make you High Lady?! Y/n, this is great news!”

It took another ten minutes before everyone settled down after congratulating you and pressing you for more details. You kept your lips sealed though, wanting to keep a few things just between you and Eris.

It was only then you noticed Azriel had disappeared from the room.

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Last Christmas I gave you my heart

But the very next day you gave it away

This year, to save me from tears

I'll give it to someone special, special

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

You let out a content sigh as you entered the High Lord and Ladys’ chamber, happy to be home. Eris was there, waiting for you with a smile on his face.

You rushed forward and he caught you in his arms, swinging you around. He held you tight against him.

“Don’t ever leave me again,” he whispered into your ear. “Please.”

You giggled, pulling back to look up at him. “I was only gone for two hours!”

He pressed a kiss to your lips. “Two hours too long.”

You shook your head at him, feeling the love and admiration he was sending down the bond. The joy of having you back in his arms. “Don’t worry, I have no plans on leaving now that I’m home.”

His smile took your breath away.

“Good,” he said before lifting you into his arms and carrying you to the bed. You laughed as he tossed you onto the fluffy pillows with a wolfish grin. “Because I have to make up for lost time now.”

“You’re insatiable,” you teased as he crawled over you, kissing your neck and jaw.

“You love it,” he purred, his red hair falling forward to tickle your forehead.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss him.

“I love you,” you mumbled against his lips.

“And I love you,” Eris said with such honesty, you felt yourself soften underneath him.

You spent the rest of Winter Solstice wrapped up in his arms, the only place you truly felt at home.

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#acotar #azriel #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel x reader #azriel x you #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra fic #eris fanfic #eris x you #eris vanserra #eris imagine #azriel fic #azriel angst

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fever-fluff · 7 months

Text

Cat's Out of the Bag, Claws and All

Synopsis: You’re sick of Cassian and Rhysand sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. And Azriel’s tendency to let things slide when it comes to himself isn’t helping. Word Count: 4k (not proof read)

“I just think you’re becoming a bit…”

“A bit what, Cass?” Azriel was not in the mood for this. Sitting in Rita’s, in a booth right to the back while his two brothers pestered him on his love life was not how he wanted to spend the night after he’d returned to Velaris. You had been absent from his bed when he’d finally made it back in the early hours of the morning. Though he wasn’t worried. You had duties to attend to for Rhys as one of his foreign relations advisors, normally starting as soon as you woke in order to enjoy your evenings free of work to spend with him- even if he was the one still doing paperwork.

“Don’t you think she’s a bit too… extreme?” Azriel snarled at Cass’ blatant insult to you. But he held his hands up in peace, Rhys cutting in before he could do more damage. “What we’re trying to say, Azriel, is that it seems like you aren’t yourself lately. You’ve been showing up more recently, which is not a bad thing and we’re happy to see more of you. But it’s the reason of these increased showings that has us worried.”

Azriel supposed it was true. He had been showing up more – to social events that is. He was always present when it was just their inner circle, but the regular accepting of invitations to social events that didn’t need his presence was a new thing, something that you had gently insisted on since the two of you had become so close.

He was never one for meaningless interactions and had been pushing himself outside of his comfort zone for quite some time now by giving in every time you looked at him, pleading with those eyes of yours. He could never quite say no when you asked, and begged him, so nicely. But he nodded all the same to the two that he understood what they were trying to say, “I guess. I honestly didn’t think it was such a big deal. It makes her happy.”

“That’s the thing Az. Sure, it makes her happy. But does it make you?” Cass was trying, really trying not to say the wrong words and have this blow up in his face. Azriel thought for a moment, of all the times he’d watch you interact with others he didn’t even know the name of, never mind their importance to your work, while you linked your arm around his and had him trail along. He was always uncomfortable in the light, always wanting to slink back to the shadows. But you were the opposite, always blooming so lovely in the presence of everyone you deigned to offer your time to. He sometimes wished he could coddle you away from all their adoring eyes and have you all to himself. But he would never cage you like that.

“Not particularly. I do it for her, but sometimes I would rather sit at home while she goes about her work.” His admission was quiet, feeling that if he said it too loud it would carry on the wind and into your ear as you slept.

“What we’re trying to say, brother, is that spending your life with someone is all about compromise. You need to tell her when you don’t want to do something that makes you uncomfortable.” Since when has Cassian ever been so wise and all-knowing? He’d bet five gold marks Nesta had whipped that piece of sense into him after he’d thrown another of her books out the window, insisting on ‘a lovely stroll through Velaris’ instead. Azriel knew he was just jealous of the new male protagonist in her recent book series, garnering all her attention throughout the day.

But Cassian’s words had stuck in the back of his mind and refused to leave. Had he been compromising on his comfort for your own? You’d never pressed the issue with him, but he supposed he’d not put much of a front up against it in the past, agreeing almost immediately every time you’d asked for his company.

“You know I respect her and the work she does” Rhys had ordered another round as they settled in for the night of drinking ahead, “she’s one of the best at her job that I’ve ever seen, placating Eris is a testament to that. But she is intense, she has to be. I don’t want that to jeopardise you or your happiness with her in any way in the future. Putting up boundaries with her now is the best way to do that.”

Azriel knew his brothers had always had his best interest in their hearts when it came to things like this. Rhys’ intervention between him and Elain on Solstice years ago was a testament to that. He would have been hurt in a way he would never have come back from. Elain and Lucien’s bond was one of the strongest he’d ever seen – even rivalling that of Rhys and Feyre’s once given the chance. Then he’d met you. You had courted him from the minute you’d met, and he’d preened under the attention he’d longer centuries for. You weren’t his mate; no bond had snapped for him in the time he’d gotten to know you. But he’d worked past that and found that someone choosing to be with him purely of their own volition made it much harder to doubt whether he was worthy of you or not.

So, as they drank on, Azriel let their words mill over in his mind, finally agreeing with their concerns, and decided tomorrow he’d tell you how he really felt about all the parties you were asking him to attend.

Waking up to a hungover Azriel was a rare sight, but an amusing one none the less. You’d gone to bed last night early after reading a note he’d left, saying Rhys and Cass had asked him to drinks to catch up after being away for three months. You were upset, naturally, as you hadn’t seen him either during that time. But Azriel was a people pleaser, and he’d accepted their invitation with no qualms. So instead of wallowing in self-pity of not spending the first night with him back falling asleep in his arms, you had invited Mor and Feyre over to take your mind off it.

They’d left soon after midnight, Feyre wanting to get back to Nyx seeing as his father would be away most of the night. But all those sour feelings had left the second you’d awoken curled into his strong, tanned arms this morning.

Trying to shift in his hold, you’d felt him curl further into you with a groan, wing casting over the two of you to block the ray of sun peering in between the curtains. You laughed, sending a small gush of magic to pull it closed, cutting the bright light off. His hum of appreciation vibrated against your neck while you reached to play with the tresses of dark hair falling in front of his eyes. It was getting long again – which you preferred on him – but he’d cut it soon now that he was home.

“Good morning, love” you’d never tire of the purr the name elicited from the Illyrian warrior beside you, and it rumbled lowly as he reached into your touches further. “How were drinks with Cass and Rhys?”

“Long. Too long. Wanted to come home to you.” his voice, gods his voice. You loved it, the deep tones in the morning unlike anything else you’d ever heard.

“Yeah? I should have realised I’d need to rescue you, nab you back to have you all to myself.” One thing you’d realised in pursuing the Shadowsinger was his need for directness. His heart had been torn so many times that it wouldn’t beat for anything else. And you’d been more than happy to provide.

The morning was slow, full of sweetness and adoration you’d both been missing in his absence. Neither of you had been pressed to rise before noon until your stomach had grumbled its dislike of the lack of food. And so, you’d found yourselves sat at the small table in front of the windows overlooking Velaris, coffee and pastries in hand.

Azriel had woken from his drunken haze, and appeared caught in his own world, more so than usual as you noticed him missing the handle of his mug, for the second time. “Something on your mind, my love.”

His sigh was enough to know you wouldn’t like what he had to say, and your mind wandered to unpleasant thoughts of Rhys already assigning him to another mission far from home. “I swear on all that is good if that High Lord of yours assigned something else to you last nigh-”

“He hasn’t. And don’t forget he’s your High Lord also.” Azriel hated when you spoke against any decisions made by his family, which was rare. You were on the same page as them, mostly. But there were some things you disagreed strongly on. Not always living in Velaris had given you another taste of the world, and it faired well for you in your work here. But there were times when it caused temporary rifts between you and your friends, and you weren’t inclined to change if it could be solved with words instead of blades. But when it involved Azriel, you found yourself more and more inclined to picking up something sharp and slicing it into anything that wanted to steal him from you.

“We were… talking. Last night. About a couple things.” Azriel was not as sweet with words as his brother, but to see him lose them completely was new altogether. Putting the pieces together from the non-existent puzzle he’d left for you, you felt your breath hitch slightly, “About us?”

“Yeah…” you didn’t like this Azriel. The unsure and unconfident kind. He had a silent strength you’d admired since the first time you’d met. You’d fallen in love with the male that wasn’t this, and you hated seeing him act like anything lesser than he was.

“Azriel. Whatever it is, please speak to me about it. I want to know.” You’d moved from your chair, coming to sit on the side of his as you laid your hand next to his, letting him decide whether or not he wanted to take it. But the warmth that encased yours was comfort enough to know it wasn’t something that would break the two of you.

“I – don’t want to go to the – social events anymore.” Your brows pinched in confusion, where was this coming from? “Care to tell me why?”

“I’m not a fan of them. At all really. And I realised I was doing something that wasn’t making me happy. It made you happy, which I’m glad, but I can’t do it anymore. S’ too much.”

You watched Azriel retreat into himself at the admission, but you said nothing as you saw his gaze flicker over the room until it finally landed on you, searching for any anger, or hurt. “If you think I’m angry, I’m not. I understand what you mean, and I’m glad you could tell me.”

“You are?”

You huffed a laugh, “Yea, I am. So long as they’re your thoughts and not your brothers, right?” he nodded, “They are.”

“Okay, no more unnecessary social outings, for you at least. I’ll still have to attend them, considering.” He nodded again, “of course, I wouldn’t assume otherwise.”

You kissed him lightly as you made to get ready for the day, the conversation ending quicker then it began. These mornings were all you really had alone with him, both your professions taking up the rest of your days and swallowing the majority of the daylight- and twilight.

He’d winnowed soon after from the garden after kissing you goodbye, seeming lighter now that he’d voiced his discomfort, and you released a sigh you’d been holding since.

There was a party in three days, one you’d assumed Azriel would attend with you. But now that he’d expressed his feelings about them, you couldn’t bring yourself to ask. Instead, you’d prepare yourself for the emotional and verbal onslaught to come without the Shadowsinger by your side.

You hated these things. Really, really hated them. being in a room full of fae looking to raise their status, their family name in the long list of nobles was always a tiring feet to be around, but it was a necessary evil to your work. Mor stood beside you in all her ethereal glory, and the pair of you looked nothing more than astounding. Emerie was somewhere in the crowd of people, charming her way through each table she rounded. You were sometimes envious of the support she lends to Mor at these times, the two made a good pair in these places, balancing the other out that lead to progress you would only dream of making in such short time.

But it seemed tonight all you would find for yourself was concealed and blatant admissions of fae asking about your seemingly juicy availability.

“Ladies, it’s an honour to have received an invitation to such a grand celebration, pray tell” the male who’d sauntered his way over to the two of you leered in you direction, “has the lovely lady finally been freed from her cage? Should I thank the Shadowsinger for his decision to set you free from you confines that is the Court of Nightmares?” You blanched at his obvious attempt but concealed it under a smile too easy that it felt tight, “I believe you’ve been fed the wrong fruit from the vine my lord, Azriel and I are still quite the pair. I do hope you don’t mean to sully his name when he is not here to defend himself?” your sinister pout had the blood leeching from the males cheeks, and he stuttered himself into a stupor until he could find his feet to walk quickly away.

Sighing, you grabbed a fresh glass of wine, the last going sour from the interaction. Mor’s head leaned to yours unceremoniously, “Mother, that’s the fifth one in the last hour! How often does this happen?”

“Any time Azriel isn’t with me. When he’s accompanied me in the past it stopped a lot of this for the most part. But with my reputation among the courts here and abroad, anyone will try to get their claws into the person holding the most honey pots.” You were feeling the effect of it much sooner than ever before, the mental strain making your mind lag. You’d really hoped Azriel would have been here tonight, but you couldn’t lean on his strength every time.

“That’s why you’ve been bringing him along…” something seemed to click with her. “You know he hates these things. But you wanted him here for support, for you.” You nodded without hesitation, confused as to why her face seemed so stricken by the knowledge.

“There’s something I have to tell you” Mor’s tone was sullen. As she explained, you listened and felt anger wash over you in gulfs. Oh, you were going to murder someone, and soon.

The following weeks after Azriel had admitted his feelings to you were…odd, to say the least. He wasn’t sure what to make of them. you had been the same as ever to him, loving and oh so understanding when it came to his every need. You didn’t press him to attend the gatherings you had to, opting to inform him instead of your departure. While you were gone, he would catch up on all the paperwork he had waiting, and by the time you came home, his arms would be open and waiting for you to fall into.

But something was still off. He felt it in the way your shoulders slumped more than they usually would after socialising all night. It was still taxing to you, but you had always smiled after when he had attended them with you. Now, you barely had enough energy to lift yourself from his hold, falling straight to sleep once he’d guided you to bed.

Those nights, when you’re too tired to tell him about your day, and instead just curl up against his side, Azriel thinks about the moments of when you’d first met.

Your connection to him was almost instantaneous, you’d follow him everywhere you could. The idle chatter you started with had eventually turned to long and deep conversations, sweeping him along into the early hours of the morning.

Your first kiss, when you’d found him after a more draining mission. You’d helped him bathe, nursing the tension from his back and mind with loving but firm touches to his skin. He’d turned to you in a burst of confidence and captured your mouth with his before he had anytime to think himself out of it. You’d melted into him almost instantly, and the rest had been a blur of tangled limbs and sheets.

The weeks after had been full of secret touches and longing looks, until Cassian had caught the two of you in a heated kiss after venturing to the kitchen for some late night tea. Always the one known for having loose lips, the whole house had known before Azriel could’ve knocked him unconscious, but you had laughed and squeezed his hand in reassurance, letting him know that you didn’t mind being claimed by him, if he were okay with you claiming him. No, he didn’t mind that at all.

Gods, he had been in heaven ever since. Having someone to come home to, to reach for in the long family dinner when before he had to watch the mated couples around him stare adoringly at one another. He now had someone to call his own, and he was so glad it was you.

But you seemed to be getting worse as the weeks rolled on, and he couldn’t quite understand why, until Rhysand pulled him into his office.

“She’s taking a leave of absence from her position.” Azriel’s world spun on the wrong axis as he processed the words coming from his brother’s mouth.

“She hasn’t spoken to you about this?” he shook his head, mind spiralling as to why you’d do something like this. You loved your job, more than anything. It gave you a purpose, something to give back to the world.

Cassian ventured in not long after, seeming to already know what was going on, “you’re not communicating again. Azriel, this is gonna really affect your-”

“Affect his what, Cassian?”

The three of the bristled at the sharpness of your tone. Azriel cast his gaze over you. Your eyes seemed darkened by a tiredness that hadn’t been there until a few weeks ago. Even your posture, always one to hold your head high, looked slumped against Mor and Feyre, who stood behind you.

“I was just saying that you both should talk a bit more about-”

“Oh, I’m sure you have a lot of comments on what me and my mate should talk about.”

Azriel stopped.

Everything stopped.

Your- your what?

You sighed, your admission seeming to go amiss amongst the thoughts swirling in you mind, but Azriel couldn’t comprehend how you’d said something like that so…so… casually.

“Azriel, Can I speak to Rhysand and Cassian – alone?” he didn’t feel himself answer, but Mor and Feyre seemed to understand and guided him into the hallway, where the three of them waited with baited breath to hear the onslaught you’d ensue. It wasn’t a secret, how much you detested some of the decisions they made in this court. Hels, you had even come to Eris’ defense more than once during the time of the alliance to put him on the Autumn throne. But this was different, and he knew it deep in his bones.

Mate. You’d called him your mate. But there was no bond. Nothing had snapped in all the time you had known each other. He loved you, infinitely. but that had been a choice you had both made in all that you had gone through, not for some fate woven between you.

“I know, it’s a lot to take in” it was Feyre, “I think we should sit down, get some tea while we wait until they’re finished.”

So the three of them walked away from the voices on the other side of the door, and made for Feyre’s studio.

“You two need to butt out, now.” You were fuming, white hot rage consumed you as you looked to the grown males in front of you. But they weren’t acting like that, not in all the time you’d known them.

“You-you called Az your mate?”

Shit. Had you? Oh gods he was probably going insane with the thoughts in his head. No wonder he hadn’t answered you. How were you going to explain hiding something so profound from him for as long as you’d known each other.

“What of it.” you were snapping now. You don’t ever snap. That was your charm, ever the collected one, no matter what. But gods they had stuck their noses where it didn’t belong. And you detested it.

The statement had seemed to shut the two of the up quite quickly, so you continued, happy for the lack of interruption. “I understand you’re looking out for Az; I do. But this is getting to the point where it’s ridiculous. Have you ever considered the weight in which Az holds your words? They’re like gospel to him.”

“We were just trying to help, nothing more.” You snorted as the High Lord’s words. Feyre and Mor have known of your secret since you met Azriel, but it seemed the two of them have truly kept it privy to your circle of three.

“Have you ever thought, for a second, that maybe sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong does more damage than good?” you were breaking now, the emotions you had welled up the past while cresting. “I wasn’t asking Azriel to those gatherings because I wanted him out of his comfort zone. Gods, I know he detests them.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I needed him. It’s not easy listening to fae ask about your hand in marriage while your mate sits happily at home.”

You took a breath as the two said nothing more. “I came here to tell you that my leave was because I was overwhelmed. It’s a lot sometimes, even for me. And I hadn’t gotten a lot of time with Az without interruption since we met. I was going to tell you both today, about… the predicament. But it seems I’ve let the cat out of the bag, claws and all.”

Gods, how were you going to explain this to him? You’ve kept him in the dark for months. He’ll never forgive you.

“We-acknowledge our misstep. We truly didn’t mean to hurt you, or Azriel. And for that I apologise, for us both.” Rhys’ face was sullen enough for your anger towards the two wash away, and you nodded. “Believe me, you’re not the one who’s hurt him.”

With nothing else to say, you made for the door. Cassian’s voice stopping you just as you reached for the handle, “Just, make sure you get him to listen. He’ll go into his head, and its not a good place.”

You nodded.

“I know.”

There will be a Part II

#acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #rhysand #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #azriel acotar #mor acotar #fem reader #azriel x female!reader #feyre archeron

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flickering-chandelier · 1 month

Text

Will It Patch Your Broken Wings?

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel is feeling insecure one night and cheats on Reader. She is absolutely devastated and wants nothing to do with him, but he is determined to show her how much he loves her.

Inspired by the love triangle in Taylor Swift’s betty/august/cardigan

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: angst, cheating, swearing

Word Count: 6.3k

Betty, I know where it all went wrong

Your favorite song was playing

From the far side of the gym

I was nowhere to be found

I hate the crowds, you know that

Plus, I saw you dance with him

Azriel tucked his wing in tighter as you led him through Rita’s, your hand in his, a bounce in your step. You loved it here: the energy, the dancing, the music.

Azriel, on the other hand, really only went along because he loved you.

The music was pounding in Azriel’s mind, overwhelming his senses. He could normally block it out and will his body to be loose enough to attempt to dance with you, but today had been a particularly long day in which he had to… secure information from some traitors.

He didn’t let his memory go past that, not when he was with you. But it had been a day. A terrible day.

You were dancing now, like you were born to do it, like you didn’t care at all who was watching. You turned to him, a bright smile lighting up your face, and he couldn’t help but soften at the sight, feeling comforted by your effortless radiance.

He would never understand why you had chosen him. He was thankful of course, but he was willing to admit the two of you sometimes seemed like an unlikely pair. You were bright and bubbly, lighting up every room -- a direct juxtaposition to his shadows, his darkness, his tendency to be stoic and silent.

Watching him stay completely still in the middle of the crowd, your face fell, and you sidled up to him, craning your neck to look him in the eyes as you got closer, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Are you okay? We can go home if you want.”

Azriel smiled faintly at you, dipping his head to give you a quick kiss. “Long day. You can dance. I’m going for a drink.”

You nodded, but still eyed him warily for a moment, gaze lingering on his swirling shadows, before turning back to the dance floor.

By the time Azriel got his drink (the strongest they had), you were fully engrossed in a song that he realized was one of your favorites. He watched as you writhed on the middle of the dance floor, swaying your hips, a bright smile on your face.

A male came up to you then, taking your hand and twirling you under his arm. You laughed brightly before moving away from him, dancing on your own once again.

Azriel couldn’t stop his heart from plummeting. That’s the kind of male she should be with, he thought. The kind that goes to a normal job and comes home without shadows or demons to chase away in his mind. The kind that can dance and twirl and laugh with you without a care in the world.

He watched as you danced and danced, occasionally dancing with a random male for a moment before moving on.

She deserves better than you. She always has.

His breath was coming faster and faster now, the music pounding in his ears, through his skull, all that heat from so many bodies closing in on him. He had to get out, had to stretch his wings, had to get out.

Azriel shoved through the crowd and burst through the doors, out into the cool night, stretching out his wings and breathing deeply. He cursed himself. He was normally better than this, better at maintaining his emotions, his panic. By the Cauldron, he was the Night Court’s spymaster and he couldn’t handle an evening in a nightclub with his lover.

Pathetic. That’s what he was.

“Are you okay?” a light, sing-songy voice broke through his rumbling thoughts.

He turned to see a very pretty High Fae woman. She was dressed a bit like Mor, he couldn’t help thinking, wearing a thin red dress that showed off all her assets, her light brown hair cascading down past her shoulders.

She gave him a look that he hadn’t seen, or at least paid attention to, from a stranger in a very long time.

He blinked. “Honestly? I don’t think so.”

Her lips slowly curved up into a sultry smile. “Anything I would be able to help you with?”

No. No, you cannot help me. I don't think anybody can.

She watched him, her eyes sparkling with mischief, before she tilted her head for him to follow.

And Mother save him, he did.

---

And I can see us twisted in bedsheets

August sipped away like a bottle of wine

'Cause you were never mine.

Your heart had been pounding, your body trembling, ever since you realized that Azriel was nowhere to be found.

Something must have happened to him. It was the only explanation. He wouldn’t just leave you without a word.

But, what could have possibly happened to the shadowsinger, in Velaris, of all places?

Your hand shook as you raised it to pound on the door of the river house.

Rhysand was the one who answered, shirtless, hair a mess. He looked very unhappy to see you.

“I need you to find Azriel,” you nearly shouted before he could scold you.

He sobered immediately, noticing your distress. “What do you mean?”

You explained to him what had happened, that he had seemed off at Rita's, that he told you he was going to get a drink, then vanished. You had assumed that he had been lingering on the outskirts of the dance floor, and didn't notice for quite some time that he had left completely.

“I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation,” he said soothingly. “Did you check your apartment?”

You nodded. He wasn't there, at the home he shared with you. “And the townhouse.”

Rhysand's violet eyes were contemplative. Hesitating.

“Can't you just…feel for him or whatever?”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. “Yeah. I can.”

“Then do it!”

Rhysand's eyes went unfocused after a beat, and when they widened again in surprise, you knew he had found him.

“What is it? Is he okay?”

“He's… at a random apartment. At least it's not one that I recognize.”

Your heart lurched. “What? Why?”

Rhys shrugged, his expression darkening. “Okay. Shit. Wait here, I'll go tell Feyre what's going on and take you to him.”

Rhysand came back a moment later, now in his normal black attire, and winnowed you in front of an apartment complex not far from Rita's. You had certainly never been here before. The silence was agony as you followed Rhys up the stairs, to the door.

He glanced back at you, a question in his eyes. You shook your head and he knocked, the sound rattling around in your skull.

You heard shuffling, giggling, and then.

Then.

A woman answered the door. A beautiful woman who was wearing Azriel's shirt.

A woman who was wearing your lover’s shirt and nothing else.

Your knees nearly buckled. You tasted bile in your mouth. You were going to be sick.

She cocked her head to the side. “Yes?”

Rhysand was deathly still, his power rippling from him, darkening the doorway. You remained behind him, but you had to know. Had to know for sure.

So you peeked around Rhysand's shoulder, further into the woman's apartment.

And saw Azriel, bare chested, lying in her bed, the sheets bunched up at his waist, his wings drooping on the ground, his hand tucked under his head, staring at the ceiling, like it was the most normal thing in the world.

You barely had time to spin around before you emptied your stomach in the hallway.

---

The worst thing that I ever did

was what I did to you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Az?” Rhysand's voice boomed from the door the woman had just answered.

Hearing such a familiar voice in such an unfamiliar setting was initially what shocked Azriel enough that he nearly fell out of bed.

Then it hit him.

Rhysand was here.

No no no no no no--

Azriel scrambled up out of the woman's bed, frantically searching for his pants and tugging them on.

“I-”

“Don't answer that.” Rhysand spat, and it was then that Azriel realized Rhys was holding you upright as both of you lingered in the doorway.

His heart stopped working. His mind stopped working.

He said your name, but it came out more like a croak.

You were trembling in Rhysand's arms, tears sliding down your cheeks.

What had he done what had he done what had he done--

Azriel took a step forward, but you recoiled, and he knew you would've fallen to the ground if Rhysand hadn't been holding you.

You looked… afraid of him. Not just hurt, not just disgusted, but actually afraid.

He said your name again, his voice and his heart breaking, but you turned to Rhysand and said in the smallest voice he'd ever heard, “Get me away from him.”

Rhysand shot you one last withering glance before he winnowed out of sight, taking you with him.

It was silent for a moment, until the woman said, “If I'd known you were such an asshole, I never would have done this.”

Azriel sank to his knees and wept.

---

You drew stars around my scars

But now I'm bleeding.

Back at the river house, Feyre was holding you as your body continued to shake, silent tears continued to fall, while Rhysand paced back and forth, rage radiating off of him.

“Azriel?” Feyre asked, wide eyed. “Our Azriel?”

“He's certainly not mine anymore,” you sniffed, and Feyre winced, shooting you an apologetic glance, holding you a little tighter.

“I can't believe it,” Rhys said, still pacing in the spare room where they had set you up for the night. “I cannot believe him.”

There was a knock on the door of the house and you froze. You all knew who it was.

You looked at Rhys, your eyes pleading.

“I won't let him in,” he said, his expression softening as he turned to you. “I'll ward the fucking house against him if I have to,” he growled, mostly to himself, as he retreated to send him away.

You leaned further into Feyre, grateful for your friends.

For his friends, you realized. His family.

They were on your side now, but you knew where their allegiance would ultimately lie.

In losing Azriel, you would lose your family, too.

Sobs racked your body then, and Feyre held on tight, settling her cheek on the top of your head.

You thought of all the walls Azriel had broken down around your heart, all the promises he had made about love and forever. All the broken pieces of you that you had let him see, that he had helped you heal.

But it was all a lie.

You couldn't stop seeing it -- the woman, naked except for his shirt; Azriel, naked in her bed.

You wept and wept until there was absolutely nothing left of you.

---

A friend to all is a friend to none

Chase two girls, lose the one.

Azriel had come to the river house twice a day for the past three days.

Each time, Rhysand opened the door, molten hot rage in his eyes, and told him to leave, that you weren’t ready yet. Azriel couldn’t blame him.

He knew there was nothing he could do, nothing he could say to make it better. To make you better. He could try to explain what he had been feeling that night, but it wouldn’t matter, not really. It was all excuses, and he knew it.

Azriel had destroyed everything. And now he just had to watch as his world burned down.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, he knocked on Rhysand’s door, expecting to see his pissed off brother again, but it was Feyre who appeared.

He had never seen his High Lady look so disappointed. He hated that it was directed at him.

“How could you do it?” she said, crossing her arms, leaning against the doorway.

Azriel felt tears prickling his eyes, and willed them not to fall. “I never felt like I deserved her,” he said quietly.

“Well you definitely don’t now.”

He winced. “I know. I just -- I want to see her. How is she?”

Feyre furrowed her brow, furious. “How is she? She hasn’t left her room since she got here. Elain’s been forcing water down her throat so she doesn’t shrivel up and die, that’s how she is.”

Azriel swallowed, trying to steady his shaking hands. He felt like he was drowning. He wished he would, if it meant that it would make you stop feeling like that. “Do you think she’ll talk to me?”

She studied him, her mouth a hard, thin line. Finally, she turned, heading inside and he followed her, his knees wobbling.

When they made it to your door, she knocked softly, saying through the door, “He’s here.”

Azriel held his breath until the door opened, slowly.

And when he saw you, he couldn’t breathe. You looked… devastating. Your eyes were red and swollen, you were pale, your hair was a mess.

It was his fault. He had done this to you. He felt sick.

Your eyes were hollow when you looked at him, like you didn’t feel anything at all.

“Do you want me to stay?” Feyre asked you quietly.

You shook your head, your eyes darting away from Azriel. Feyre shot him a warning glare before she reluctantly went down the hallway.

You turned, moving to sit on the bed that looked like it hadn’t been made in days, every movement you made looking wary, exhausted. Destroyed. Your eyes were fixed on your hands in your lap, unwilling to look at him.

Azriel lingered just inside the room, feeling uncomfortable in his skin. He longed to hold you in his arms, to kiss your pain away.

He said your name, willing you to look at him. You flinched.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Azriel wanted the earth to swallow him whole.

“I am so, so sorry,” he rasped.

You shook your head, not looking up. “How could you do this, Az? How could you do this to me?” Your voice cracked when you said his name.

Tears started to fall down his own cheeks as he said, “I… don’t know. I wasn’t thinking. I saw you dancing with those males, looking so carefree, and I didn’t feel like I fit into that part of your life. I’ve always felt like you deserved someone better than me, someone… easier.”

Finally, you looked up at him, and he wished you hadn’t. Your eyes were full of fury. And hurt. He had never seen you like that before. “You cheated on me because I danced with some guys for two seconds?”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant,” Azriel tried.

“You think I wanted somebody like them? Somebody easier?”

Azriel opened his mouth, then closed it again. “I thought--”

“I wanted you,” you spat, and he recoiled at the hurt in your voice, at the pain in your eyes that he had put there. “All I ever wanted was you.”

He couldn't breathe. His voice came out weaker than he had ever heard it, “I'm sorry. It was a mistake, I'm a miserable, miserable fool. I want you. You're all I want.”

You laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter sound. “How can you even say that after what you did?”

“I know, you’re right,” he sighed, raking a scarred hand through his hair, his shadows dancing around his arms. “It doesn’t make sense, what I did. It was stupid and awful, and the worst thing that I’ve ever done, and I am so so sorry,” he said, taking a step forward, reaching his hand out to take yours.

“Don’t touch me,” you spat, wrenching your hand away.

He blinked, taking a step back, his heart in his throat.

“You said you loved me,” you said, your voice now barely a whisper, as if all your energy had been completely drained. “You said you wanted to be with me forever. Did you ever mean any of it?”

“Of course I did,” he said softly. “I still do. I love you. I want you.”

You sniffed, putting your head in your hands. “Well. You should’ve thought of that before you fucked her.”

He blanched at your tone, at your language. He didn’t think you’d ever said that word before, at least not around him.

“Please,” he said, his voice breaking, as he knelt down in front of you, trying to meet your eyes. “Please, what can I do? What can I do to fix this?”

Your eyes rose to meet his. You took in the sight, the shadowsinger kneeling before you, begging for your forgiveness. “You can’t fix it,” you said, seething. “You left me. You abandoned me at Rita’s. Do you have any idea how that felt? I thought something horrible had happened to you!”

Azriel tightened his jaw. He hadn’t known, hadn’t even thought about--

“And then to see you. With her. In her bed,” you broke off, looking at the ceiling, trying to keep the tears from falling, he knew.

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could say. His tears were flowing down his cheeks now and he hastily wiped them away, not wanting to take his eyes off you for fear that you would vanish.

After a long moment, you leveled your gaze on him again. “Would you have told me? If I wasn’t worried sick, if I had just gone home, and waited for you to stumble on in, would you have told me? Or would you just keep acting like everything was fine, knowing that you had just betrayed me?”

Azriel swallowed hard. He thought about the guilt he had felt immediately, how he was contemplating what the hell he was going to tell you as he was staring at that ceiling before Rhysand had knocked. “I would’ve told you,” he said, his voice husky. “I was going to tell you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head, looking anywhere but him. “I don’t even know why I asked. How can I trust anything you say?”

“I don’t know. But it’s true,” he said, shifting on his knees, wishing he could reach for your hand.

Hiding your face in your hands, you said, barely audibly, “I hate you. I hate you for doing this to me and making me feel like this.”

Azriel’s heart finally shattered completely. He knew he would never be able to put the pieces back together, as long as he lived. He had done this to you, his beautiful, bubbly, happy love. Reduced to this. To hating him. And he couldn’t even blame you.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

“Stop saying that,” you cried.

“It’s true. It’s all I’ve got. I won’t try to make excuses, I’m just … I’m sorry. And I love you. I’ll never stop loving you.”

You sniffled, and took your hands away from your face, looking to the ceiling once again, like you were steeling yourself to say what you were about to. “I never want to see you again,” you said, weakly. “You can have the apartment. Elain and Nesta are packing my things right now.”

Azriel shook his head, his panic rising, “No, no, you don’t have to--”

“I do,” you cut him off. “It’s done, Az. We’re done,” you rose off the bed and went to the washroom, looking unsteady on your feet. “You can go now.”

You shut yourself in behind the closed door, and it was five hundred years of will and training that carried his legs out of the river house, and out of your life forever.

Azriel took to the sky, flying and flying, the wind biting at his skin, at his eyes. He kept picturing your heartbroken expression, the words you spoke to him.

He didn't stop flying until he made it to the depths of the Illyrian mountains, where he knew he would be well and truly alone.

Spotting a flat section nestled between several mountains, he landed in the snow, barely stopping long enough to punch the mountainside. It was stupid, he knew, he was more likely to break his hand than blow off any of this steam, but he had to do something to stop this pain, this panic, this despair that he could blame on nobody but himself.

He had lost you. He had lost the love of his life forever because he couldn't overcome his fears. He had been so scared that he wasn't good enough for you that he made sure that it was true.

Grunting, he punched the mountainside over and over again until his knuckles bled, and then he punched it some more. Tears froze on his cheeks, the wind chilling him to the bone.

Az was dimly aware of someone landing behind him, so hard it shook the ground beneath his feet. He kept punching.

“You're not going to solve your problems out here,” Cassian called to him.

Finally, Azriel halted, turning around to face his brother. “You know, we have better things to punch,” Cassian added.

Azriel scowled, sinking into the snow, exhausted.

Cassian strode over to him, plopping down a few feet away, hissing at the cold now sleeping through his pants. He studied Azriel, seemingly waiting for him to speak.

“She hates me,” Azriel whispered finally. “She said she never wants to see me again.”

Cassian sucked a breath in through his teeth. “Fuck.”

Azriel could only nod sadly.

“You know she didn't mean it. At least not the second part. She loves you.”

Sniffing, wiping at his eyes, Azriel groaned. “I don't know if she does anymore.”

“She does,” Cassian said quietly. “I know she does.”

After a beat of silence, Cassian asked, “What are you going to do?”

Azriel shrugged, watching his bloody hands start to heal. “Well. I could either hang around, keep apologizing, and piss her off more, or… leave her alone…”

“And piss her off more,” Cassian added.

A dry laugh escaped Azriel. “Exactly.”

Cassian was quiet for a moment, seemingly pondering how to help him.

“I’m not giving up on her,” Azriel finally said, with more conviction than he felt. “I just… I don't want to make it worse.”

“Az, I hate to tell you this, but I don't think it could get much worse,” Cassian said, grimacing.

Azriel just sighed, stretching out his wings behind him.

---

I knew I'd curse you for the longest time

Chasing shadows in the grocery line.

Seeing Azriel again, seeing him beg on his knees for your forgiveness, seeing how hollow his eyes looked, how his shadows were so unrelenting around him, had absolutely wrecked you.

It was another few days until you had the courage to leave the river house at all.

Azriel had come back to the river house several times, but you had your friends send him away. You couldn’t bear to see him again.

Feyre and Rhysand had checked on you frequently during your stay at their house, consoling you, cursing Azriel’s name right along with you. Rhys had even loaned you what you needed to get your own apartment, on the other side of Velaris from the one that you once shared with Azriel.

That part seemed to make it final, somehow. You could almost convince yourself it had all been a dream until you made your way to your new, empty apartment, without a trace of the love that used to be yours.

That empty apartment wrecked you all over again, and as you looked around it for the first time, your body folded in half, arms wrapping around your stomach as your body racked with sobs.

You had started to regret insisting that you do this part by yourself.

It was really over. Azriel really cheated on you and it was really done.

You knew it was time to start distancing yourself from Azriel’s family. They had undoubtedly been on your side this whole time, but even Rhysand and Feyre were starting to change their tune slightly. You know he loves you still. You know he’s a good male. You know he’s so sorry.

You understood where they were coming from, really, you did.

But that didn’t make it hurt less. What you needed was to hate him. It was the only way you could ever bring yourself to move on, to start living your life again.

You had been solemnly unpacking for a few hours when there was a knock on your door. You stiffened immediately. Rhysand and Feyre had said that they wouldn’t tell Azriel where you lived, but maybe he had figured it out?

“Relax sweetheart, it’s me,” Cassian said on the other side of the door, and you did relax, if only slightly. You hadn’t seen him since before this all started.

Reluctantly you let him in. He was sauntering, wearing that easy smirk he always donned. You couldn’t decide if it was comforting or annoying.

Cassian whistled as he looked around. “Nice place.”

You settled on the couch, tucking your feet underneath you. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes softened as he walked closer to you, then perched next to you on the couch, not quite relaxed. “I wanted to check on you.”

“You can report back to Azriel that I’m just as pissed as ever,” you grumbled.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” Cassian said quietly.

Skeptically, you turned to face him. You were sure he would be the most likely to take Azriel’s side.

After a moment, Cassian said, “If it’s any consolation, he hates himself probably about as much as you hate him right now.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” you admitted.

Cassian sighed, leaning back into the couch. “Did you mean it? That you never wanted to see him again?”

You shifted, hugging your knees to your chest. “In the moment I did. Thinking about seeing him now… it breaks me apart. But, thinking about the rest of my life completely without him…”

“That breaks you apart too?” Cassian offered.

You nodded, tears stinging your eyes.

“Okay, look,” Cassian said, turning so he fully faced you. “I’m going to tell you something. You’re my friend and he’s my brother, and I love you both, so I need you to know I’m not trying to convince you of anything, I am merely giving you information. Okay?”

“O-kay…”

He took a deep breath, seemingly gathering his thoughts, before he continued. “Azriel has always felt like he was inferior. The way he was raised… he carries that around more than a lot of people think. He often thinks that he isn’t good enough for people, but especially you.”

“How do you know?” You knew that Az still dealt with a lot from his childhood, but he wouldn’t often voice those things to you. He had mentioned something about not feeling good enough when you saw him, but you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“He mentioned it to me a few times, that he didn’t feel like he was the kind of person you should be with. You’re so bright and bubbly, he felt like you deserved somebody who was the same.”

You rested your cheek on your knee, trying to digest the information. “But… he must have known I never actually felt like that, right?”

Cassian shrugged. “On a good day, maybe. But deep down I think he always had it in the back of his mind: that fear that he wasn’t right for you.”

“He should’ve told me,” you said quietly.

“I agree. And I’m not saying that it excuses what he did, but that day…it was a hard one for him. What he had to do in the Court of Nightmares.”

Your stomach dropped. You hadn’t even thought about that.

“Well, he should’ve told me that too.”

Cassian nodded. “Yes. He should have.”

You groaned. “I hate this.”

“I know,” he said quietly, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him. “I’m sorry.”

Cassian let you cry on his chest for a long moment before he said, “hH wants to come see you, you know. He doesn't want to give up on you.”

When you didn't respond, he said softly, “Just think about it.”

Days later, all that Cassian had said was still ringing in your ears, even as you walked through the market when it was the busiest.

Despite everything, it hurt your heart to think that Azriel had ever felt like he wasn't enough for you. And you were still so hurt at what he had done and what you had seen, but it at least made more sense now.

You hated this feeling of loneliness that followed you around wherever you went now, rooted so deeply in you that you were scared it would never go away.

Azriel had been so good to you for so long. Was one mistake really worth throwing everything away?

Every time you had the thought though, you remembered the sight of him in her bed and wanted to scream or cry or kick something.

Suddenly, as you were nearing the edge of the market, you swore you saw the wisp of a curling shadow out of the corner of your eye and stiffened. This hadn't been the first time that you thought you glimpsed Azriel's shadows or wings in public since it happened.

But, no this time it was real. And he saw you too.

You willed your feet to move, but they wouldn't. You couldn't tear your eyes away from him, from this man who had loved and hurt you so completely.

Azriel approached you like you were an injured animal he was trying not to scare away. Your heart thundered in your chest.

“Hi,” he said in what you knew was his gentlest voice.

You couldn't bring yourself to speak. Still, after everything, you missed him. And seeing him now… it was too much to bear. Yet, too much to walk away.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly, his eyes swimming with pain and affection. His shadows were on full display, despite the fact that they usually shied away from the sun.

“You've already said that,” you murmured, still rooted to the spot.

“I know. And I'll keep saying it every chance I get. If I knew where you lived, I'd send you flowers or a book or dinner from that restaurant you love every day and I'd tell you I'm sorry and that I love you.” His voice was shaky in a way you had never heard from the shadowsinger.

“You would not,” you said, trying to sound angry but it just came out weak.

“Of course I would,” he said, risking a step closer to you. “I would do anything to take your pain away. You have to believe that.”

You did. You did believe that he meant it. But you didn't know if it would be enough.

For a moment you let yourself gaze at the man you once trusted with your whole heart. He looked thinner, like he hadn't been eating enough. His eyes were still hollow, dark bags beneath them. Even his wings drooped slightly. He might look even worse than you did.

And yet, you could still see the beautiful, sweet shadowsinger you had fallen in love with so long ago.

Finally you said quietly, “I'll tell Rhys he can give you my address.”

Those hazel eyes sparked with hope. And love. Definitely love.

---

The only thing I wanna do

Is make it up to you.

When you went out the next morning, there was a book left at your doorstep with a note attached.

It was the newest from one of your favorite authors. Your lips formed the tiniest smile.

The note read:

I couldn't start my groveling with something too cliche, so I went straight for your romance novels.

I've never told you this, but I always love when you tell me about the books you’re reading. Your entire face lights up when you do. And you know I love a fairytale ending.

I hope you have a good day today.

I'm so sorry for what I did. I'm so sorry for hurting you.

I love you so much. I always will.

-Az

You couldn't help but laugh a little by the time you got to the end. As if anybody else would be writing you this note.

The next morning when you stepped out your door, there was a pastry from your favorite cafe in a to-go bag. On the bag was a note:

I'm really hoping you'll find this in the morning so it's still good.

If not, you just come let me know and I'll drop everything to get you a fresh one.

I miss you.

My life is a nightmare without you.

I'm so sorry.

I love you.

-Az

And so it went. Every morning, rain or shine, Azriel would leave something that he knew you would love, with a note, always ending in some version of I'm sorry. I love you.

It did warm your heart that had turned so cold. The dedication alone was enough to prove to you that he really was sorry for what he did.

Yet, every time a note would make you laugh or cry so much that you wanted to run to his arms, you were always stopped by that image that plagued your mind. By the fact that he did what he did and no amount of little gifts would change it.

Months passed, and to Azriel's credit, the gifts, and more importantly the notes, kept coming. Your bedside drawer was completely full of them. And there may have been a night or two when you missed him so desperately that you would read them over and over again until your eyes burned and you had no choice but to cry yourself to sleep.

You would sometimes lay awake at night, picturing him coming up to your door. Several times you wanted to wait up for him, to listen for his footsteps, to pull him into your apartment, forget everything that happened and just be happy again.

But you never had the nerve. You were terrified of going through it all again.

Until one day, there was no gift at your door. No note. No sign of him anywhere.

Your heart plummeted. Had something happened to him? Was he hurt? Injured on some mission Rhysand sent him on?

Or had he finally given up on you?

It wasn't until that moment that you were willing to admit to yourself how much you had been relying on those notes, those little pieces of him.

You went through your day in a daze, devastated all over again.

It was early in the evening when there was a knock on your door. For a moment, you hoped it would be Azriel. You hadn't actually seen him for months. But you quickly realized it was more likely to be one of your friends, who still came by, despite what you had initially thought.

So, the breath was knocked completely out of you when it was indeed the shadowsinger waiting on the other side of the door.

His handsome face, his soft expression, on his face made you want to weep. You missed him so much.

Azriel smiled somewhat shyly as he gazed down at you, holding a paper bag in his hand. “I'm sorry it's late. Rhys has got me scouting out some things, and I didn't get back here until now. I brought dinner,” he said, holding it out to you.

You recognized it from your favorite restaurant. With shaking hands, you took it from him, spotting the note attached to the outside.

I'm sorry. I love you.

Over and over again it was repeated, taking up the entire paper. You placed it on a table inside before your gaze flicked back to him. He was watching you closely, his wings tucked in tightly behind him.

“I thought you gave up on me,” you whispered.

His timid smile fell. “Never,” he said softly. “I'll never give up on you. I love you so much.”

Tears brimmed your eyes and all of a sudden, you knew you couldn't take it anymore. You didn't want to hate him, you didn't want to dwell on the one awful thing that he had done. You had a drawer full of wonderful things that he had done.

“I love you, too,” you murmured, the tears spilling freely down your cheeks now.

A sound that sounded distinctly like a sob escaped Azriel, and he wrapped his arms around you, crushing you into his chest. “I never thought I'd hear you say that again,” he sniffed, his hand cupping the back of your head, kissing your temple.

After a long moment, he took your face in his hands, gazing at you for a moment before he slowly kissed your tears away. You laughed lightly and he smiled, leaning in to kiss you so softly, like he was afraid you would break.

“I love you,” he murmured against your mouth. “I love you so much.”

You pulled back long enough to gently brush his tears away. “No more secrets. If you're struggling with something, you need to tell me.”

“I know. I'm sorry. No more secrets.”

“And nobody else. Ever.”

He winced. “I'm so sorry, love.”

“I know you are,” you said softly, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“Thank you,” he murmured. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You rose to your tiptoes to kiss him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

At last, you had found your way back home.

A/N: Want to see Azriel pay for his crimes instead? Go read the alternate angsty ending here!

#acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel one shot #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel angst #acotar angst #acotar fanfic #angst #angst with a happy ending #request #azriel fanfic #acotar azriel

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prythianpages · 6 months

Text

Dandelions | Azriel x Witch Reader

summary: Feyre invites you to Rita's and you drink more than you can handle. Good thing your loving mate is there to take care of you.

warning: implied smut in the beginning, drinking, some fluff

a/n: this is based off this request. Thank you so much for sending! Hope you like it! I tried to incorporate a little bit of everything ♥️ I feel like this can be read as a stand alone imagine. If you're interested in reading more of Az x witch reader, you can find the masterlist here.

“You’re staring.”

Your tone dances on the edge of light teasing as you meet Azriel’s gaze through your vanity mirror. You hook your earrings on and turn, lips curving up into a sly grin.

Azriel doesn’t look away. He’s sitting on the bed and uses his elbows to prop himself up as he leans backwards. His hazel eyes drink you in like a man who’s been deprived of water, appreciating every inch and curve of your form in that short dress of yours.

“How can I not when you’re dressed like that?”

“Like what?” You ask innocently. You miss the incredulous look he sends your way as you bend over to clasps the straps of your heels, inadvertently giving him a lovely view of your breasts.

You’ll be the death of him, he thinks as he sucks in a sharp breath, wondering if he could convince you to stay home tonight. It’s been a month since you accepted the mating bond and the urge to have you and keep you by his side at all times is insatiable.

You struggle with the clasps of your heels, nearly stumbling over your own feet. Azriel rises from the bed and kneels down in front of you, clasping the straps with a graceful ease. His touch lingers on your ankles and he’s well aware of the inviting heat of your body. So are his shadows. They eagerly slither up your legs.

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your calf and then another, following after his shadows. His gentle touch both comforts and thrills you. He smiles against your skin when he feels your skin tingling and tightening with goosebumps.

“Az,” you protest but the small moan that escapes your lips when he kisses his way up to your thigh betrays you. “We’re going to be late.”

“They’re not going to care or notice.” Azriel replies, reluctantly accepting that there’s no way he can convince you to stay in tonight. You’ve barely seen Feyre and tonight was all you could talk about the past couple of days. But he knows he can convince you to stay home just a while longer so he pulls away from your thighs briefly.

The look he gives you as he gazes up at you is downright sinful and you’re melting into his promising warmth.

Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling, casting a dance of vibrant colors over the grand venue. Laughter and animated conversations weave through the air along with the pulsating beats resonating from the dance floor. Your smile widens when you spot Feyre and you’re tugging Azriel along with you.

“You’re late!” Feyre quips, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Sorry, I got a little held up,” you reply and then turn to Azriel with a subtle raise of your eyebrows, your eyes silently screaming: “I told you so.”

“I’m not sorry.” Azriel says, wearing a pleased look and you smack his arm in response, prompting a laugh from Feyre.

“Az, my man!” Cassian greets and the liquid in the glass he’s holding spills over slightly.

The two of you are being split into different directions. Cassian, with a playful grin, tugs Azriel to the table they reserved for the night, where Rhysand and Amren sit. Meanwhile, Feyre excitedly guides you toward the dance floor. You ask her where Elain is, noticing she’s the only one missing from your group but she tells you her sister is the one watching Nyx for the night along with Lucien.

Mor, already holding a drink in hand, offers it to you with a wink. You take a sip and immediately grimace at the bitter taste, making her laugh. But she insists for you to chug so you do and before you could dwell on the burn of the harsh liquid in your stomach, Nesta is spinning you into a dance.

Azriel watches you, his eyes alight with a tender affection that paints a soft glow in their hazel depths. A subtle, contented smile graces his lips. You’re laughing and smiling as you dance with the girls–a playful exchange of twirls and spins.

The dress you’re wearing is a delicate cascade of yellow, reminiscent of dandelions in a sunlit meadow and as you twirl and raise your arms, the material of your dress rides up your thighs. He takes pleasure in knowing that if your dress rode up further, it’d reveal the marks he left on your skin earlier.

Rhysand chuckles. He doesn’t need to read Azriel’s mind to know what’s on his mind and as if caught red handed, Azriel turns to his friends.

“Like you weren’t the same way with Feyre,” Cassian retorts playfully.

“As were you, boy.” Amren rolls her eyes. “All of you but I will say that I am surprised Azriel is handling tonight so well.”

Azriel’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean?”

With a mischievous glint in her silver eyes, Amren simply raises her glass in your direction and Azriel follows. You’re still dancing with the girls, oblivious to the greedy eyes on you. They linger longer than he likes and when a group of high fae approach you, his shadows are discreetly darting to you while one remains. It curls around his ear and whispers to him and he catches snippets of your conversation. They’re thanking you for a potion they bought from you and he allows himself to relax. But only a little.

“I can’t keep up with her.” Feyre breathes heavily and Rhysand welcomes her to his lap, chuckling at her.

“Your mate is popular.” Nesta comments, smirking when she catches the glare Azriel sends her way.

Azriel lost count of the amount of drinks you’ve had but he knows you're captured in a spell of euphoric bliss when you’re swaying more than usual and the hair you had tied up is now loose around your shoulders. Mor is still with you and to his dismay, so is the small group of high fae that had approached you.

Although he knows Mor is a friend, he can’t help the unsettling feeling in his stomach when she rests her hands on your waist because you’re his and the primal instinct to make his claim and remind everyone of it is strong. He knows it’s the bond and he reminds himself of this when you lean into Mor with a smile. It’s when a dark haired female comes up behind you and her touch lingers longer than needed and brushes in places it shouldn’t that the unsettling feeling slithers into his heart like a green serpent and he loses it.

“Azriel!” You gasp happily and throw your arms around his neck.

Azriel steadies you, placing a hand at your waist in a possessive manner. His attention is on the dark haired female. You’re oblivious to the way his gaze darkens and his eyes narrow at her in a silent warning but you’re not oblivious to the tightening of his muscles.

You rest your hands on his chest, a slight pout on your face. “Why are you so tense?”

“Because she was looking at you like she wanted to fucking devour you.”

“Who?” You pull away slightly to look up at him. Your eyebrows knit together at the bitterness of his tone, even though it’s not directed at you. Then, a laugh escapes from you because the only ones you were dancing with were Mor and the female you just made friends with. “Az, she’s just a friend! Let me introduce you.”

When you turn around, your friend is nowhere in sight. “She was just here…” you murmur with a small frown.

Mor snorts besides you. “y/n, sweetie, she was definitely hitting on you.”

“Oh.”

“I need another drink,” Mor says suddenly. She pats Azriel’s shoulder playfully as she heads toward the bar. “She’s all yours now.”

You’re gleaming with delight at Azriel when he looks back at you. “You were jealous.”

“And that amuses you?” He huffs, pulling you closer to him.

“Yes,” your hands toy with his dress shirt. The uppermost buttons on his dress shirt were left undone and with a bite of your lip, you deviously unbutton more. Your hands are slipping under his shirt with easier access and caressing his chest, following the intricate pattern of his tattoos. A wave of heated desire courses through him at your touch.

“I find it kinda hot. You’re hot. Like really, really hot.”

A flush of warmth paints his cheeks and he’s thankful for the dim lighting. He stands there, with you still in his arms, momentarily speechless because he knows those words would never escape from your sober, bashful lips.

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, a smile curving his lips when you flutter your eyelashes at him in response. Amusement dances in his eyes. “Like really, really drunk.”

You poke a finger at his chest. “Drunk words are sober thoughts.”

The lively tempo of the upbeat music gracefully yields to a more intimate melody. As the first notes echo through the air, your mouth parts in delighted surprise.

“I love this song! Dance with me?”

The excitement in your voice is contagious and before Azriel can respond, you’ve already taken matters into your own hands as they grasp for his. You place one at the small of your back and entwine your fingers with the other.

“I put a spell on you."

"Because you’re mine.”

Your movements are clumsy but Azriel adjusts and guides you effortlessly. The grin on your face deepens as he twirls you, the music weaving a spell around both of you. “Mine, mine. All mine.” You sing to him, your voice joining the rhythm of the song.

As the final notes linger in the air, he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “All yours,” he confirms with a loving smile.

You nestle your head onto his shoulder, breathing softly onto his neck. You’re the one who breaks the tender spell of the moment. With a wicked gleam in your eye, you nip at the spot you know is extremely sensitive and his body shudders beneath your bold move.

“y/n.”

You giggle when you see that your lipstick left its imprint on his skin and Azriel senses that tonight will be a long one.

As the night unfolds, more people approach you to thank you for your elixirs and advice. Some of them are your regulars and you excitedly introduce them to Azriel and then they’re buying you both shots. It’s nearly a miracle when he manages to bring you back to the table. You sit on his lap and drape an arm around his neck and he tucks you into his side.

“Is the room spinning or is it just me?” You say as you lazily brush a hand down his exposed chest. “Or is it you, my pretty?”

Unlike the lighting on the dance floor, the chandelier hanging above the table bathes you all in a bright glow, highlighting the blush on Azriel’s flustered face. Laughter erupts from Cassian and Rhysand and Feyre breaks into an amused smile. Until now, she was the only one aware of your flirty nature when drunk...because when you would drink together in the Spring court, she’s been on the receiving end of it.

Shadows are pushing your drink in front of you away from you, replacing it with a glass of water instead. Your fingers are toying with the buttons on his shirt again. “This is such a nice outfit,” you murmur.

“Thank you.” Azriel replies, bringing his drink to his lips.

You lean into his ear to whisper. “It’d look even better if it were on my bedroom floor.”

Azriel nearly chokes on his drink. Water splashes onto Cassian, who sits beside him. He glances between you and Azriel. He takes note of the deepening of Azriel’s blush and then the satisfied smirk on your face.

“Drink some water, y/n.” Azriel says in a slightly breathless, unusually ruffled rush. A wave of relief comes over him when he brings the drink in front of you to your lips and you don’t protest. “You sound a little thirsty.”

“Only for you.”

“Azzy, I’m feeling a little thirsty too.” Cassian teases. He can’t help himself and leans in toward his friend, playfully batting his eyelashes at him.

You’re suddenly enveloped in a sea of green and the unwelcome visitor that had come upon Azriel earlier is now knocking on your door. You don’t like how close Cassian is to Azriel. Your mate. He’s yours and only yours.

“Back off.” You nearly growl.

“Or what?” Cassian challenges, ignoring the kick Nesta gives his leg under the table in warning.

“Double double, toil and trouble, fire burn and cauldron bubble–”

“Hey Az, your mate is putting a curse on me.”

“I’m her mate, not her master,” Azriel replies with a casual shrug of his shoulders. “y/n is free to do as she pleases.”

He knows you well enough to know that the words you are spewing are nothing but nonsense. A means to scare Cassian and he takes delight in the flicker of panic he sees flash in his friend's eyes.

“Can you at least tell her to stop staring at me like that?” Cassian nearly whines, avoiding your eyes when they darken at him.

When Azriel turns to you, your eyes are back to normal and softened with a sweetness that melts his heart. “I’m not doing anything,” you say coyly and Azriel finds the pout on your face unbearingly adorable.

“Stop being a baby, Cas.”

Azriel nearly has to drag you out of Rita’s. There’s only so much teasing and flirting he can take from you and he welcomes the cool breeze of the night as soon as you both step outside. With a sigh, he effortlessly hoists you over his shoulder.

“Let’s go home, love.”

He pauses at the giggle that escapes from you. “What is it?”

“I have a perfect view of your ass from here.”

Azriel shifts you from being over his shoulders to cradling you gently in his arms instead. You hum in content and raise your hand to brush against the face you adore so much. “Still a lovely view.”

“Better I hope?” He quips.

“I don’t know,” you muse with a teasing gleam in your eye. “Your ass is pretty nice too.”

“You’re going to regret this tomorrow.” Azriel huffs a laugh as he takes you home.

He’s grateful that you live only a couple of blocks away from Rita’s. He’s opening the door to your home only a couple minutes later, greeting your cat, Binx, who is lounging on your couch with a smile. Binx’s curious eyes take in your state and Azriel swears the cat winks at him.

Azriel carries you all the way to your room, using his foot to nudge the door open. He carefully places you on your bed before turning to the set of drawers. He grabs some clothes for you both to change into and when he turns to face you again, you’re curled onto your side and snoring softly.

His heart warms at the sight.

He gently slides your dress off of you, replacing it with something comfier--one of his shirt’s. He unclasps the straps of your heels and then removes your earrings. He wipes away your makeup with a dampened towel, knowing that if he doesn’t, you’d wake up with irritated skin.

Finally, after making sure you’re comfortable, he slips under the blankets. You stir and although your mind is hazy from the alcohol and drowsiness, your body still seeks out the comfort of his warmth.

“I can’t believe you're really all mine.” You murmur softly as you cuddle up to him.

He buries his head into your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of lavender he’s so fond of. He closes his eyes and smiles. He still can’t believe you’re all his either.

Another glorious morning greets you, the sun glaring brightly through your thin curtains. Your mouth feels extremely dry and a thin layer of sweat forms over your skin. The arm around your waist tightens in response to your movement. You’re shifting in the bed, turning to face Azriel.

His eyes are closed yet the subtle upward curve of his lips confirms he’s awake. “Good morning, love.”

“There’s nothing good about this morning,” you groan.

Your entire body is aching and as you stretch your sore muscles, a sudden wave of nausea hits you like a ton of bricks. You're slipping under Azriel’s hold and running to your bathroom. He follows after you, brushing your hair away and holding it back for you as you hurl all the contents from your stomach.

You lean your head against the marble cabinet near the toilet, reveling in its cool touch. “Please never let me drink like that again.”

“I quite liked drunk y/n,” Azriel teases as he helps you up to your feet. He hands you your toothbrush and leans against the doorway with his arms crossed. “She’s bold.”

All your blood rushes to your cheeks. You meet his gaze through the mirror. Bold can mean many things and as you try to remember the events from last night, you’re coming up blank. “What did I say?”

“You nearly cursed Cas,” Azriel replies. He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly as he says his next words but the mischief reflected in his eyes contradict his casual demeanor. “And you said my ass is nice.”

Azriel watches you, savoring the role reversal as now you’re the one in a flustered state. You push past him with your hands on your face–a futile attempt to cover your mortified expression. You walk back into your bedroom.

“Why are your clothes all over the floor?”

Azriel normally places his worn clothes in the hamper that sits in the corner of your room but in his haste to take care of you, he carelessly threw them on the floor. He smirks, taking advantage of the perfect opportunity to tease you further.

“Because you said they’d look better there than on me.”

“Fire burn and cauldron boil me.”

a/n: when writing this, I was listening to the song I Put a Spell on You and I found that there's another version of the song that Austin Giorgio sings called You Put a Spell on Me and it's very Az coded in this au. Imagine him singing it you 😩

tagging: @fxckmiup

#azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x witch!reader #azriel imagines #acotar x reader #acotar imagines #azriel fluff #az!dandelions

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ninthcircleofprythian · 24 days

Text

Here Comes The Sun

Azriel x You

Word Count : 3.8k

Summary : When the Spymaster of the Night Court discovers your little crush, you end up crossing a lot of firsts off your list.

Warnings : lots of sexual tension, use of nicknames (Sunshine - Reader/You), mention/insinuation of loss of virginity, mention of masturbation, oral and fingering (f recieving).

Author's Note : written for this anon ask, very lightly edited so please forgive mistakes/mispellings.

The crowd at Rita’s tonight was especially large, you think to yourself as you huddle closer to your friends. You had made the trip from Day Court especially for one of your dear friends birthdays. After hours of dancing, you were now gathered next to the table that Mor had taken over for your friends and hers. Rhys was snuggled in the booth obviously preoccupied with his mate and Cassian was moping, bouncing one knee and eyeing the exit, biding his time until he could go home to Nesta. The rest of your group, including the birthday girl, were standing in a tight knot trading laughs and waving their hands in animated conversation.

Except you. You had pushed yourself to the outside of the group, overheated from all the dancing. You allow your eyes to roam around the large room, the music picking up into another lively song. Your gaze slides along the bar before it lands on the dark figure you’ve been avoiding all night. Azriel, the Shadowsinger, Spymaster to the Night Court.

As you dip your chin with a secretive smile, you turn back to your group.

“I see your little crush hasn’t faded since the last time you were here.” Mor practically shouts over the music.

“Who? Me? What are you talking about Mor?” You feel a hot flush of color creeping over your neck.

Mor just tilts her head in response with a smirk, right in the direction of the bar you were just staring at.

“Azriel? The Spymaster?” you feign a shocked face with a laugh. “He is way out of my league.”

Mor leans closer to your ear so she isn’t shouting. “But you aren’t denying it.”

The flush of heat reaches your cheeks now. “There’s no harm in looking, you know,” you answer with another laugh.

“You’re right,” Mor smiles wickedly. “No harm done.”

As she turns back to the conversation with the birthday girl, you turn towards the table top. Grabbing your water from the table, going for a piece of ice you can cool your fingers with and press to your overheated face. Shaking the cup you realize it's empty and risk another glance towards the bar.

An elegant female catches your eye, dress glittering and legs as long as night. She is sidled up just next to Azriel’s stool in the corner obviously trying to get his attention. It is then that you notice he is paying her no mind, not even to politely decline. Because his eyes are on you.

Another flame of heat licks at your cheeks as your eyes lock with those light hazel ones. Dipping your head quickly to turn back to your friends, you feel a slow cool breeze sliding over the back of your neck. Before you can even question the source, a hand grabs your arm.

“You want me to grab you another drink?,” one of your other friends asks.

“No, thanks. That’s ok. I should probably head out anyway. Early start tomorrow and all.” Tomorrow you were headed back to the Day Court. Scholar duties wait for no one, not even a good friend’s birthday.

Slipping through the crowd past the churning dance floor, you spot Mor and the birthday girl pushing through the hordes of people in an attempt to reach the bar. Catching their eye, you wave a little wave and head towards the coat check.

Throwing your coat over your arm as you step out onto the street, you are blissfully thankful for the cold winter air that hits you. It was much too hot inside and your face is still heated at a low simmer. The fleeting reminder of those eyes on you from across the room bring that heat straight back up to a boil.

Those light hazel eyes, those swirling dark wisps of shadow, that single dark lock of hair that doesn’t seem to stay in place and falls across his forehead.

Enough. You admonish yourself in thought.

You decide the night air will do you some good and begin the short walk just a few blocks to your inn instead of winnowing back. You don’t even make it half a block before a whipping mass of shadow blocks your path and you slam into the very solid body within it.

Stumbling backwards a step, you stammer out an apology. “Oh, I’m sor–”

Those eyes.

“Leaving so soon, Sunshine?” Those eyes are focused solely on you as Azriel’s deep voice sounds.

“Oh, um. Yeah, I was just heading back to the inn. I’m heading home early in the morning.”

“But the night is young. You’ll miss all the fun, Sunshine.”

“I get it,” you force out a giggle even though your heart is pounding. “Sunshine - I’m from Day Court. Very cute.”

Azriel chuckles, the vibration sweeping over your skin. Your face isn’t the only thing that feels hot now.

“Not what I was going for, but a cute coincidence.” He emphasizes the word cute in your tone.

“Then why did you call me Sunshine?”

Why are you out here alone on the street talking with this male?

It wasn’t that you felt unsafe. How could you with the Spymaster at your side? It was just that being alone with males wasn’t something you did. Ever. The scholar dorms were separated and all of your roommates were female. The occasion had never arisen before.

“Look at you,” he purrs. “You are practically glowing. That is why I called you Sunshine.”

Your face flames even hotter now if that were even possible. Another slow cooling breeze passes over you, this time down the side of one cheek. The source is clear this time. Tendrils of smoky shadow pass through your peripheral vision as the coast over your shoulder. Before a thought could fully form in your mind, he slips to your side.

“May I escort you?” Your attention falls to the shadows that twine around the elbow he offers you.

“To the inn? Where I’m staying?”

“Did you have another place in mind?” His mouth quirks up on one side with a dangerous glint in his eye.

You shake your head a bit as your brain kicks back into gear. “If the night is so young, how come you are out here offering to walk me home?”

Azriel laughs. His chin tilted up, you can’t help but to notice that smooth expanse of tattooed neck.

“You caught me Sunshine,” he says, bringing his gaze back to you. “It just so happens that a little birdie told me –” He leans down, lips dangerously close to your ear.

“- that you might have a little crush on me.”

If your skin could get any hotter you would burst into flame, right here in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Mor really should keep her mouth shut,” you spit out in a sudden burst of anger.

“It wasn’t Mor who told me,” he says as he straightens.

“Then who?” You tilt your head to look at him, confused. Outside of Mor, your other friends had no reason to randomly approach someone from the Inner Circle.

“Like I said Sunshine, a little birdie told me.” With a flick of his wrist he holds out his hand, index finger extended in a point. A vortex of shadow swirls above it, forming into a tiny bird. Wings flapping as it lands on his finger like a perch.

You crack out a sharp laugh. “Spymaster. Right. I should have known. Well, like I told Mor –” you peer at him with a mischievous grin. “There is no harm in looking.”

In an instant, Azriel spins to face you fully. One arm smoothly planted to brace against the brick wall behind you. “So you aren’t denying it then? You do have a crush on me?”

Your head is spinning, your heart pounding, no witty comebacks spring into your mind. The only thing forming is a low heat in your belly.

“No, I’m not denying it.” you say breathlessly.

“Well,” he starts, staring right into your eyes. “It just so happens Sunshine, the feeling is mutual. And while there may be no harm in looking.” He leans closer, his finger glides down the side of your face before hooking under your chin. “It’s so much more fun to touch.”

Before you can utter a single word, his lips are brushing over yours. The first tender kiss lands softly against the pillow of your lips, barely any pressure behind it. The second has you reciprocating with a gentle push of your own. The third is what causes all thoughts to flee and a sigh escapes your throat.

You feel his lips pull into a smile against your own. “Don’t you agree?”

You stand there frozen. Dazed, head empty. “I’m sorry,” you breathe. “I forgot the question.”

Azriel releases another low chuckle and again the vibration coasts over your skin. This time suspiciously close to your ear.

“I said,” he rumbles as you feel his nose brushing against your hair. “It’s so much more fun to touch isn’t it?”

The tip of his nose begins dragging lower, like a cold piece of ice sliding down your heated neck.

“Azriel, wait –” you say sharply.

He pulls back and stares into your face again. “What’s wrong, Sunshine? Did I do something wrong?” A sly grin across his classically beautiful face. “You’re standing here like you’ve never been kissed before or something.”

The only answer is your bewildered stare, another bloom of color rising to your cheeks.

He jerks back slightly in shock. The look quickly covered with that impenetrably impassive mask so familiar to the Spymaster of the Night Court.

“There’s – I mean, the right – it’s just never come up before,” you stammer with a shake of your head.

You watch as a heat reaches his face. The flame igniting not across his cheeks, but in his eyes.

“Sunshine,” he whispers softly, his finger still hooked under your chin. “Was that your first kiss?”

Once again, your words fail you.

Pushing off from the arm bracing the wall, Azriel brings both hands to the center of his chest. “I am honored to be your first,” he says nodding into a slight bow. “And maybe – if you so desire –” the sensual tone of his voice deepens. “I could be part of many more firsts for you.”

That flame of need is still bright within his eyes.The inferno no longer blazes up your neck and face as it doubles low in your belly, slipping down and settling squarely between your thighs.

Isn’t this what you wanted? What you had fantasized about for weeks after that first initial sighting of him? Isn’t his voice after he first introduced himself to you the one you replayed over and over in your head? That deep timbre inside your brain as you ached for some privacy in the overcrowded dormitory to touch yourself? It’s not like you were saving yourself for any particular reason, it had just never happened.

“Yes,” you breathe in a shudder. “I do so desire.”

The flame in his eyes flares higher as he turns to stand at your side, a feline smile pulling at his lips. Azriel offers you his elbow once more. With your eyes still on his face, drinking in the crinkle near his eye and the tilt of his mouth, you slip your hand smoothly into the crook of his arm.

Before you can even lift your leg to step, blackness surrounds you. What were once wispy strands of shadow now surround you like a sheet, obscuring the street around you from view. You draw in a gasp. This was not the winnowing you were accustomed to. It felt entirely different although not necessarily in a bad way. Yet before your gasp could be released fully, the blackness receded and you stared about you in wonder.

The cobblestones beneath your feet were replaced with gleaming hardwood, the chill of the winter night gone. A fire was already burning in the fireplace as you scanned the room before you.

“This isn’t the inn,” you state as you finally release your breath.

“No. It isn’t,” Azriel rumbles out another laugh as he releases your arm. “I thought you’d prefer a little more privacy. Plus the beds at the inn aren’t exactly made for wings.” He shuffles his wings with a sly smile as he turns to you.

“You know from experience?,” you smirk.

“Does that bother you?,” he asks seriously as he steps closer. The usual buffer between bodies cut in half, you can feel the heat of him radiating.

“Does me being – inexperienced bother you?” Another rush of color floods your face and you press your still chilled knuckles to your cheek in frustration.

“No,” his tone is still serious as he gently removes your hand from your face. “It doesn’t bother me.” The fingers held so tenderly in his are brought to his lips, the same sweet pressure from his kiss earlier laid on the back of your hand. “It’s – intoxicating.”

You feel your breaths shorten as he steps even closer, his front pressing against yours. Azriel drops your hand and brings his up to your chin once more, this time tilting your head to the side. His other arm snakes around your waist.

“Knowing you’re allowing me to bring you pleasure,” his warm lips brush against the side of your neck. “Pleasure you have never known before,” his kisses shift lower. “That it’s my name you will cry out as I give it to you,” his teeth graze your collarbone and his wings tremble with his words.

“Azriel,” you sigh, leaning your head back even further.

Sliding his hand from your face to the nape of your neck, his face comes up to meet yours. “We are just getting started, Sunshine.”

His lips crash into yours just as you bring your arms up to his shoulders. Gone are the trailing soft kisses. This is just need. Bruising, nipping, need. Your tongue meets his as it enters your mouth, searching. You push back as he deepens the kiss further, needing to be closer. Wanting more. Your hands slip into his hair, threading between your fingers as you try to get closer.

He breaks the kiss just for a moment to reach down and grasp your thighs, hauling you up to wrap your legs around him before he eagerly returns. Your grip around his neck tightens as you hold on, your heaving chest pressed up against his. You feel him moving and in a moment you’re being lowered to the bed, mattress meeting your back.

As he pulls himself away, standing upright before you, you notice the damp stain left on the front of his dark shirt. Right where your thighs had been spread around his waist. As he unbuttons his shirt his gaze drops down to where you are looking and he runs his thumb over the wetness there.

His shirt now tossed aside, he steps near you again. Hands sliding up the outside of your thighs to your hips, the fabric of your dress bunching as he pushes it up.

“No need to be embarrassed.” He says as he sits you up so that he can gather your dress over your head. “You're about to be dripping on much more than my shirt.”

As he tosses your dress over on the floor with his shirt, he peers down at you, just looking, hands held still at his sides.

“So fucking beautiful.” His hand reaches out and caresses your breast, filling his palm with its weight before drawing his thumb across your tight nipple. The sensation causes you to gasp and you feel it in your core. He seems to be lost in thought for just a moment before he leans over quickly, snatching the pillows from the head of the bed and tucking them directly behind you.

“Lay back,” his voice barely above a whisper. You follow his instruction, your body angled so that you are sitting up partially on the edge of the bed. “I want you to watch as I make you come undone, Sunshine. I want you to remember who put that look of bliss on your face.”

As he speaks, that swirling sheet of shadow moves behind him along the wall. As they fade back into their usual state and return to his shoulders, you see that a large full length mirror is left in their wake. Azriel drops to his knees beside the bed as you take in the sight before you. His broad muscular shoulders kneeling before you, wings tucked in tight. His hands snaking along your hips and your face flushed with arousal.

One scarred hand nudges at your knees and you spread open, watching reflection as you do. That same hand now moves to your soaked panties, one index finger sliding through the gusset and his knuckle brushing softly against the outside of your folds.

“All this for me, Sunshine?” It comes out like a growl. With a pull, that finger begins lowering your panties down your thighs. You bring your knees together just long enough to slip them off completely before you spread wide once more.

In one swift motion, Azriel’s hands are under your knees and you are being pulled to the very edge of the bed. He hooks one leg over his shoulder and the other he pushes firmly wider. You don’t even have a chance to react before his face is at your core, his tongue lapping at your arousal.

You squeak out a sound of surprise and you feel a muffled laugh against you. The vibration of which turns your sound into a moan. His tongue has parted your folds now, making a slow circuit around your engorged clit.

“Is this what you thought about as you touched yourself?” He doesn’t even lift his head as he speaks. Your moans continue as your head falls back and your eyes close. He breaks the circuit of his tongue to dip down toward your entrance.

“How quickly did you come with your fingers while you imagined my face between your legs, Sunshine?” Returning to that sensitive bud once more, his tongue picks up a fevered pace. The cry that leaves your throat is positively sinful and your leg begins shaking against the palm that holds it open.

You feel his tongue curling, cradling your clit just before he pulls it into his mouth and sucks. The leg you have over his shoulder tenses, pulling his body closer to your core. With a pop he releases and brings his eyes up to your face.

“Watch,” he says with authority. Just the tone of his voice has you practically vibrating.

You follow his command as he lowers his head. You stare at the image before you. His hand pressing into the flesh of your trembling thigh. His tongue picks up that pace once more and you see yourself shudder as you moan. Releasing the grip you have on the sheets, you bring your hands up to his head, staring at the sight of your skin against the black hair as you thread your fingers through.

The picture is – intoxicating. Just like he said. On the edge of the first orgasm you haven’t given yourself, you fixate on the bob of his head between your thighs, your breasts heaving with your labored breath, the sweat beginning to glisten against your skin.

It’s too much. Quicker than you’ve ever been able to finish before, you feel that tightening in your belly rushing you towards the finish line. Azriel’s tongue dips again into your entrance before resuming his pull at your clit with a groan.

“Azriel,” you pant out. “Oh, Az– I–”

“That’s it, Sunshine, keep watching,” he says quickly before returning to his task. Just as you feel that familiar flutter starting, you feel a finger at your entrance pushing in.

You choke on a gasp as his finger fills the void and begins curling inside you. Clenching your fingers you pull at his hair, eliciting a deep moan from his chest. One more curl of his finger and you are falling over the edge. You watch in the mirror as your face twists into pleasure, your muscles contract and you pull your leg tight against his back. Your other leg now trembling freely as his hand moves up to your hip. The ripples of pleasure draw out as you watch, longer and longer until you are pulling yourself upright by the grip on his hair.

“Azriel!” you cry out in a sob. The orgasm gives one final wave before you fall back onto the pillows, releasing your hold on him. He lifts his face from your core, but the finger inside you remains. Gently, slowly he continues pushing it in and out of you, the sound of your release squishing around it. You shudder with aftershocks at his continued movements.

“How did you like seeing me between your thighs? Was it everything you imagined?” You can hear the smile in his voice as you gather your breath.

“It was –” you sigh out at a loss for more words.

He halts his movements, pulling his hand from your body. Then Azriel is standing before you, grabbing your hips and shifting you to the head of the bed. Bringing his knees up to the mattress and crawling over you he asks, “How many firsts was that, Sunshine?”

He settles his weight over you, the hard length of him evident against your core. Wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him closer, you laugh. “I lost count.”

Az’s face breaks out into a bright smile as he brings his mouth to yours. Tongues searching, heads tilting before he pulls away nearly a full minute later. “The night is still young, Sunshine, what’s next on your list?”

He gives a testing thrust against and you laugh once more as you wrap your legs around him in answer.

****

Hours later, you wake in the pitch black of the dead of night, a muscular arm wrapped around you and a wing slung over your body. Pushing gently against the hard chest in front of your face, you start to push up to sitting. The arm around you tightens, pulling you back to the mattress.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Not time for you to rise yet, Sunshine. Go back to sleep,” Azriel’s half asleep voice is even sexier than the one he whispered in your ear with earlier.

“I should go.”

“You don’t really want to walk the streets back to the inn at this hour do you?” He smiles sleepily as he cracks an eye open. He would winnow you if you wished, but he couldn’t resist teasing.

“No, I mean – I’m heading back home to Day Court today,” you snuggle back into that hard chest again. “But I don’t want to.”

That sleepy smile graces his face once more as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “So don’t.”

#azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel acotar #acotar smut #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf #acofas #azriel shadowsinger #azriel shadowdaddy #acotar fanfiction

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offthepages · 2 months

Text

I wanna be yours.

Azriel x Shy reader

Summary: When you’re invited out for Emerie’s birthday. The last thing you expected was to have the shadow singer wrapped around your finger for the night. (Based off of this request)

Warnings: Suggestive themes, and eluding to more.

Ageless and Minors DNI

Requests are open!!

Masterlist

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You kept your head down, watching as your feet carried you down the streets of Velaris. You didn’t know why you agreed to go out with your beloved book club. But Nesta, she was so insistent. Gwyn popped in too to confirm she’d be going too. You couldn’t turn it down. But that didn’t stop you from being nervous.

The party was at Rita’s as normal. But tonight it was for Emerie’s birthday. And Nesta had gone all out. As you push open the door your breathing hitches as you look at the crowd. Multiple other Valkyries stood around, the whole freaking Night Court was there! You thought you might pass out, truly. You clutched the small gift for your friend in your hand and started forward, looking around for Nesta. Or someone you’d know at least. You could drop off the gift, a nice new dagger you had made for her- the handle engraved with her favorite quote from the series she wouldn’t stop gushing about. Beautiful and deadly- just like her. But your thoughts are cut short by the heat of someone’s body next to you, and thier breath hitting your ear.

“Boo.” And you jump several feet in the air, whirling around to find Azriel looking at you with an amused grin. You had clamped down on the scream you were going to let out, not wanting to drag any attention to yourself.

You glare at the shadowsinger. “Azriel!” You hiss, pouting up at him. “Thats not funny!”

He holds up his hands in defense, still smiling gently. “Nesta sent me to get you. She said you looked ready to bolt.” Smoothly he offered his hand to you. Looking at it, he was right. You were about to dip. Curse Nesta for knowing that. You take his hand with ease, letting him pull you into him. Navigating you through the crowd, his large hands settled on your waist as he gently pushed you forward. Each step made him press closer to you until all you could feel was his sturdy chest. You prayed to the Mother that you weren’t blushing- or that it wasn’t obvious.

Azriel had never been a touchy person. Nesta had told you that much, albeit with a smirk when you tilted your head in confusion. Explaining that usually he liked to keep his distance, didn’t speak much around people he didn’t know well. But with you it had never been like that. From the moment you met he smiled and greeted you with a kiss to your hand. And you could have sworn you saw pride swelling in his beautiful hazel eyes. And moments like that only happened more, Azriel doing something that made you blush and watching the satisfaction shine through his whole demeanor. Just that morning you had been learning to take down enemies much bigger than you. Azriel made sure you were his partner, pushing and pulling you in the right directions to get you to pin him.   ───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Cassian had explained why this maneuver was good for taking down enemies larger than you. You didn’t miss the way he looked at you as he said something about how even the smallest movements could have the biggest impact. So he paired up everyone, Nesta and him. Gywn and Emerie, You and Azriel.   Azriel stood in front of you, arms crossed over his broad chest. Watching you size him up. In one move you tried to get him down. But instead you got Azriel grabbing your waist and taking your wrists in his as he pinned them against your own. “Too slow.” He whispers in your ear and lets you go. Standing back to his full height as he waits for you to try again. Glaring at him, trying to find your best inner faith in yourself. You start again, trying a different angle.   Again he wraps one of his thick arms around your middle and another across your collarbones. “Still too slow. You’re thinking too much. Let your movements be fluid.” He lets you go again, feline grin as he coos “You got this princess.”   Your cheeks heat, but you push it down. Rushing at him, grabbing his wrist before spinning in and trying to lift him. But he stops you again. Instead intertwining your fingers, spinning you around and into a dip. Your eyes widen at the fluidity of it. How suave Azriel had just been. He tuts at you, “If you wanted me to hold you. All you had to do was ask. But you’re not even trying.” He sighs and brings you back up. Letting go.   Gritting your teeth, you surge forward. Watching as Azriel’s eyes widen, the pawing at your body this time wasn’t to toy with you. But genuinely trying to avoid getting knocked down. But it was all for naught- as you triumphantly pinned his hands above his head. Straddling him with ease, panting on top of him. You leaned in, whispering, “I won.” Before standing and brushing yourself off. The rest of your teammates were still trying. So you looked back at him.   Ariel stood, his cheeks dusted pink. You have never made him blush before- or at least to your knowledge. But you felt pride in that. For all the teasing he did. Subtle touches, sexy comments, looks in the halls. Bastard deserved it.

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Now here he was. Hands on your hips, chest pressed to your back as he scanned the crowd to try and find your table. All you could feel is his warmth pressing into you. As if he wasn’t phased at all by this morning. Even just thinking about it made you blush! The way you had pinned him had been… it left little to your imagination about his wing span. It made something deep within in you crave more. He gives you a gentle push forward and continues down his path. Leading you to a small back corner, tables all scattered with people and presents. This was where the real party was apparently. You spot Nesta, and she quickly waves you and Azriel over.

Expecting the shadow singer to let you go now that you were safely at the table, but it seemed you were wrong. He was still slightly behind you, but one hand remained on your hip, drawing small shapes into the fabric of your dress. As you looked up at him, he wore a proud smirk. Looking down at you with a wink.

You squeaked and looked away quickly. Nesta was also smirking at the two of you. But she leaned in, “I’m glad you came!”

You smiled at your friend, “I’m glad I did too! Has Em showed up yet?” Nesta shakes her head. “Not yet! But the night is young.” She looks between you and Azriel as she waggles her eyebrows at you. Quickly covering your face you whine. Suddenly you feel something wrap around you and bring you closer.

A wing. It was a wing. You peak out from behind your hands to find that Azriel had created a thin winged barrier between you and Nesta. Selfishly pushing you into him in the mean time. Your hands gently lay on his chest. He leans down to whisper to you, ”Isn’t it too early to be whining?”

You wrinkle your nose in confusion. ”Theres a time and place for whining?”

Azriel smirks again- feline in nature. And you curse yourself for finding it so attractive. ”Well for one i’ve barely touched you. Secondly you’re not even under me yet.” Your mind flashed back to that morning. He had been under you…and now? Your eyes widen, and your face grows redder. Mouth opening and closing before you just burry your face in his chest. He chuckles lowly, patting your head.

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As the night progressed you found yourself loosing up a little. Nesta had pulled you, Gwyn and Emerie onto the dance floor, helping you learn to move with the music. Soon enough the three of you got the hang of it. Laughing warmly, singing loudly, and swaying your hips to the beat. Loving the feeling of music beating so loud it feels like a heartbeat. You were starting to understand why Nesta loved it so much.

As the music switched from upbeat pop, into a more sensual rhythm. Nesta showed you how to slow your actions down, but you stopped watching her when she beckoned Cassian over. You stayed with Gwyn and Emerie, the three of you continuing to dance the night away before one by one they got asked to dance with other men. Before you could return to the table, a strong set of hands held your waist.

“May I have this dance?” Azriel’s smooth voice purred into your ear. You gently laid your hands over his, looking up at him and nodding. You watched Nesta for a few seconds, her hips grinding into Cassian’s. And you blew out a breath, leaning further into Azriel. Letting your hips sway with his.

He groaned softly into your ear. Leaning his head into the crook of your neck. Gently kissing your exposed skin. ”You looked so good dancing like that. I couldn’t help myself.” He whispers, his hands squeezing your hips as he helps you grind into him more. ”Now look at you. Not so bashful anymore huh?”

Your cheeks heated and you wrapped your arms around his neck. Arching your back against him. “You’ve been watching?”

His low chuckle vibrates through him- and by extension you causing you to press your thoughts together tighter. “How could I look away?” His hands trail up from your waist to just under your bust, before trailing back down to the end of your dress that had ridden up to mid thigh length. Keeping his hands only on the area’s you were clothed already. But you were desperate to feel his hands on your skin. “Watching you sway your hips? Run your fingers through your hair? You look beautiful-“ He leans back into you, kissing your cheek before whispering. ”It makes me want to ravish you.” Your face heats, biting your lip as you look up at him. “Wh-who says you can’t?” Azriel’s eyes lock onto yours and you watch the shadow singer debate his options. He could continue this little game of cat and mouse. Teasing you and letting you go on and on. Or. He could simply take you back to his place and tease you more there. “We’re in public, princess.” He says evenly. “I couldn’t possibly ravish you here. Not the first time at least.” That gets a small gulp from you but you quickly whisper. “I don’t think our absence would be noticed.” Azriel’s eyes darken and he grips your hips tighter. “You know what this entails, right?” You slowly nod. “I know. And I want it.” Azriel doesn’t say a word, silently bringing you to his house.

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a/n: Writing suggestive pieces, vs like- smutty pieces is so different. 😭 But i hope it turned out all right. Also sorry for it being so short!

#azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel smut #acotar smut

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azrielbrainrot · 3 months

Text

You Take Me Higher

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Description: What happens when you run into Azriel at a bar after a long mission?

Warnings: Smut, Public Sex

Word Count: 4220

Rating: 18+

Notes: This is basically pwp except it's part of a new universe I'm working on. Still, you can read this as a standalone since there's no actual plot here. I just felt like writing mindless smut since "She Laughs Like You" is so plot heavy. Hope you enjoy <3

You normally don't come to Rita's, preferring calmer bars to the loud and suffocating club, it's too much of an assault to your senses. But your friends had invited you enough times for you to accept, not wanting to turn them down again. You hadn't seen them in a while after a particularly long mission outside of the Night Court so it was nice to catch up with them even if it meant dealing with the headache that always follows your trips here.

You'd seen the High Lord and his Inner Circle as soon as you arrived. Their commanding presence allowing your eyes to find them immediately among the rest of the club goers. Upon seeing them, seeing him, you almost regretted coming out, not knowing how to act around him outside of work or your escapades and definitely not wanting to do it in front of so many people.

You decide on a simple wave, nodding discreetly at him and the rest of his family, turning your attention back to your now gushing friends after they wave back politely, making sure you didn't linger on his hazel eyes or the unbuttoned silk shirt, keeping up with the “friendly acquaintances” narrative you've crafted for yourselves. Intending on keeping away from him for the rest of the night.

Azriel seemed to have a different idea as he signaled for you to follow him not even an hour later. And, as soon as you excused yourself from your friends and stepped out into the hallway, he grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers and discreetly guiding you through a back door, to a dark alley behind the popular bar. Your back was against the wall and his lips on yours, hands roaming all over your body, before you could even question him or get a good glimpse at him under the moonlight.

“Azriel,” you whine, trying to get his attention away from your neck, where he has been leaving tiny bites followed by soothing open-mouthed kisses, effectively making you lose your mind. Your hand tightens around his collar at a particularly hard bite, one you're sure left the imprint of his sharp canines on your supple skin.

Just when you were about to call out to him once more, thinking he didn't hear you or was choosing to ignore you, the shadowsinger finally lets out a hum against the column of your throat, at last acknowledging you were trying to talk to him.

You swallow before speaking, trying to get rid of the dryness in your mouth. This backfires as it only makes him use his grip on the back of your neck to pull you even closer to him when he feels the movement, and a moan leaves your mouth before you find your words.

“Someone could see us,” you push through the desire steadily building inside you, trying to be the voice of reason, but you barely get the words out as he keeps nibbling on the soft skin of your throat, making you struggle to hold onto your composure.

When he simply lets out another amused hum before continuing to mark up your neck - to the point you're not sure the glamour magic you can use will be enough for covering them up - you tangle your fingers around the strands of dark hair and pull hard, effectively getting his attention. He grunts softly but allows you to move him away from your neck, and you're finally able to meet his eyes for the first time since he's taken you to the alley.

Your heart stalls in your chest when you take him in. Pupils blown out behind half-lidded eyes, the beautiful hazel almost imperceptible in the midst of all the desire. Dark hair messy, falling into his eyes, and shirt half undone from your tight grip on his collar, the illyrian marks you've grown to love peaking through. He was breathing heavy, chest rising and falling rapidly as he took advantage of the break you've given him to catch his breath.

The sight almost makes you forget your protests, brain going numb at the raw hunger reflected on his face. He's always been mesmerizing, you've been caught by his beauty ever since the first time you met him all those decades ago, but in moments like these you sometimes have trouble believing he's even real. He's like a God walking among mortals.

Azriel smirks when he notices your eyes glazing over and your scent deepening with arousal, taking the opportunity and leaning down for another, slower but equally passionate kiss. He's been so focused on your neck that he barely even tasted you since you've been outside. He wants to take his time with you for a moment.

Your mouth opens for him immediately, melting into him and releasing the grip you had on his dark locks in favor of grabbing the back of his neck, pulling him impossibly closer to you, needing to feel all of him while he explores your mouth.

Eventually, you break the dizzying kiss again, your senses catching up to you in between the desire fogging up the air. He lets out a sound suspiciously similar to a whine and leans his forehead against yours, barely moving a breath away from your lips. Resigned to hear what you have to say before being able to continue indulging in your enticing taste.

“We'll get caught if we stay here,” you whisper, lips brushing against his soft ones with every word.

You needed to keep your head leveled, wanting to avoid getting caught in such a risky position by any of the drunk party goers or, even worse, your High Lord. You don't even let yourself wonder what anyone would think if they found you tangled up with someone who is technically your superior, outside of a bar of all places. You'd both be in a lot of trouble.

“I won't let anyone see us,” he assures, and as the words leave his mouth, the dark shadows always accompanying him start swirling around the both of you, as if corroborating the statement. “I can keep us well hidden.” He finishes the sentence with a chaste peck on your lips and moves back to look into your eyes, searching for any doubts and waiting to see your response. Always so respectful even in the throes of pleasure.

You bite your lip, holding his gaze as you realize what he's implying. It's not that you would consider yourself a prude by any means but you've never done anything like this in public. Well, aside from the first night that started it at all, but the circumstances had been completely different then. Drunk fae could stumble out through the back door at any moment here, it could even be one of your friends or his. There was no anonymity in one of the most popular bars in Velaris. This might be the most irresponsible thing you'd do.

And, as much as that's true, you can't deny the heat spreading in your belly at the suggestion, the wetness pooling between your legs.

Azriel is looking at you like he could eat you whole, and you're more than aware of his abilities, of the delicious pleasure he can bring you. He wouldn't lie to you either, if he promised he'd keep you hidden then you know he will follow through with it. You'd trust him with anything.

Without the danger of really getting caught, what's stopping you from letting this irresistible male have his way with you right here? You'd be a fool to deny him and yourself the pleasure.

Your lips are back on his before you can talk yourself out of it, wrapping your arms fully around his neck and letting him take charge. He gets the message quickly, grabbing your waist and pressing you against him, letting you feel his bulge on your stomach, so close to where you need him most, making you both moan into the kiss.

Azriel has never been anything short of passionate when fucking you, always giving it his all and completely drowning you in mind boggling pleasure, but today he's acting differently. His rough touch is hungrier, greedier, as if he couldn't get enough of you no matter how much he took. It feels like he's untamed in his desire and it just so happens that he desires to have you.

His hands move all over your body, soon finding their way under your dress so he can grab at your thighs and pull you closer. You let yours wander down his chest, taking advantage of the mostly unbuttoned shirt, raking your nails softly over the tan skin.

When he abandons your mouth and starts leaving kisses down your jaw, moving to the slowly healing love bites, you notice the shadows have thoroughly covered you when you try to look around, suddenly aware of the loud music.

They're acting as a protective barrier to the outside world, the same way they hide him when he's in enemy territory fulfilling his Spymaster duties. Any last bit of remaining doubt evaporated with the realization. He's never been caught after all.

You let your head fall back against the brick wall, letting out a breath that soon turns into a moan when he bites into your throat hard at the same time his hand finds your folds, teasing the sensitive skin through the drenched fabric of your panties. Feeling him grin against your skin at the reaction he pulled from you.

“Always so ready for me,” he praises and then licks a stripe up your throat, tilting your head further back to reach your chin and connect your mouths once again. You accept him greedily, grinding down on his hand, needing him to touch you properly.

After all the attention he's been giving you and the thought of trying something new with the enticing male, your underwear is absolutely soaked through and you need him to take responsibility for it already. You feel like you'd been doused with hot oil.

Thankfully, he seems to take pity on you, pushing your panties to the side, moving up and down to gather some wetness before slowly starting to circle your clit in time with each lick of his tongue into your mouth.

He's swallowing the desperate sounds trying to escape past your lips and your nails start to dig into his shoulders, trying to ground yourself somehow. You'd be embarrassed at how close you already were if this wasn't Azriel. Each stroke of his scarred thumb against your sensitive clit was taking you higher.

He stops his movements as if sensing how close you were. You were about to protest when he also breaks the kiss, needing him to keep touching you, but hold your tongue when he pushes your dress up to your waist, exposing your soaked underwear to the cold night air. He curses softly as your scent reaches him.

“Keep this up for me, pretty.” His voice was deeper, rough with pleasure and restraint.

Your body catches up to the order before your mind has the chance to, doing as you're told and holding onto your dress so he can have an unobstructed view of you. He breathes out a “good” without ever taking his eyes off the wet fabric clinging to your folds, the praise and need in his eyes only adding fuel to the fire burning inside you.

Azriel gets down on his knees between your legs, now eye level with your cunt as he pulls the panties right to the side, his other hand reaching up, encouraging you to part your thighs so he can feast on the mouth watering sight in front of him.

You can't help the cocky smirk when he lets out a low groan at the sight. You had bought the white skimpy lace in hopes he'd be taking it off, you just couldn't have predicted it would be happening in a dark alley behind this bar.

He looks up at you then, holding your gaze as he leans closer to your heat, licking you from hole to clit, making a show of moaning at the taste. Your hands move to grab at his hair instantly, letting your mouth fall open in a silent moan as he repeats the action.

Your legs threaten to give out when he starts kissing and sucking, not wasting a single drop of your wetness. His thumb circles your hole as he moves to tongue at your clit, swirling it around once, twice before his finger is filling you up.

He throws one of your thighs over his shoulder, diving into your cunt. Soon adding another finger and pumping both into you, getting you ready for him. You start grinding your hips against his face, chasing his fingers, his mouth, the mind numbing feeling he's giving you. He hums into you, the vibrations making you tremble and let out an embarrassing mewl of his name.

You don't know how he can have this effect on you, this male could probably make you melt into a puddle with a simple look. He pulls away with a harsh suck so he can watch his fingers move in and out of you, can watch the wetness almost dripping down your legs and his wrist, replacing his tongue with a scarred thumb, the rough texture so different from his wet tongue, adding an extra bite to the pleasure.

You only notice your head was thrown back against the wall, eyes closed as you chase your orgasm, when you hear him call your name. Eyes moving down to meet his dark ones again.

“I need you to cum on my fingers so I can fuck you, alright?” You nod, half delirious already, even though he's barely gotten his hands on you. You'd do anything he told you to.

It doesn't take long before a familiar knot starts tightening in your lower belly, your walls clenching around his fingers. He starts nibbling at the soft skin of your thigh, leaving marks similar to the ones decorating your neck and chest. Mumbling sweet praises against your skin, words you can't even focus on with the blood rushing through your ears.

Your orgasm catches you by surprise, making you almost lose your balance as your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth opens in a silent scream, hands trying to find purchase on his shoulders and his hair, forgetting about the dress and holding onto his instead. His hand abandons your clit so he can grab onto your waist, helping you stay up.

He keeps his fingers moving slowly as you come down from your high, breathing heavily and letting out soft gasps. As your mind clears up, he leans over to leave one last kiss against your heat before taking his fingers out carefully and standing up. Grabbing your chin so he can kiss you once more, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

You pull away with a tug on his lip. The orgasm only made you hungrier, you wanted to feel him inside you, stretching you out. “I need your cock, Az.”

“So greedy,” he moans, though you can't figure out if disapprovingly or otherwise. He moves one hand to start unbuttoning his pants so he can free his painful erection at last. You follow the movement, saliva gathering in your mouth involuntarily at the tantalizing sight of his hard, leaking cock. He pumps his fist around it, relieving some of the need. You swallow, moving up to meet his gaze when you feel the intensity of his stare.

He's probably thinking the same thing as you. Remembering how his heavy cock feels against your wet tongue, moving down your throat. You see him grab the base of his cock harder, internally debating if he wants to let you suck him off or fuck you. Your cunt clenches at the thought and apparently the sentiment is clear on your face, the desire written there enough for him to make his decision as he grabs onto the back of your thighs, lifting you up against the wall.

The movement has his cock press right against you, feeling the hardness slide across your sensitive heat. You grab hold of him, not resisting giving him one teasing stroke before guiding him to your hole, needing to have him inside you desperately.

Azriel starts pushing in slowly, stretching you out deliciously. It doesn't matter how many times he fucks you, it will always take you by surprise. You've never had anyone fill you up so well, it almost seemed impossible how he even fit inside you sometimes.

He takes his time filling you up, knowing your body well enough to recognize any twinge of discomfort. In this position, it feels like he can go in deeper, the angle hitting every sensitive spot.

When he finally bottoms out, Azriel presses his whole body against yours, holding you up with his own hips and moving one of his hands over your chest so he can tug the front of the dress down and give your neglected breasts some attention as you adjust to him.

You can feel your walls flutter around his cock, moaning out his name when his mouth finds its way over one of your nipples.

Feeling more than ready for him, you push your hips against him, urging him to finally fuck you. He chokes out a breath, taking a vengeful bite at your nipple, as you move yourself on him, pulling his hips back to thrust back into you, feeling you clench around him. His mouth abandons your chest and meets yours again, hands tightening around your waist as his thrusts' rhythm increases.

It's like all the hunger from before comes back tenfold, his grip most likely bruising your skin as the sounds of wet skin slapping against each other fills the alleyway, your moans rising in tempo with each snap of his hips.

Just as you start losing yourself in the pleasure, one of his hands comes up to cover your mouth. You still let out a muffled whine when he slows down to warn you, whispering in your ear, “The barrier the shadows create isn't completely soundproof. You need to be quiet for me.” You whine in response, making him add, “Alright?”

You almost forgot where you were, and that anyone could walk by you at any moment, but in the heat of desire, the fact only makes you wetter, hips moving of their own accord against him, prompting him to pick up the pace.

“You said we wouldn't get caught.” The last thing you want to focus on right now is to keep quiet when he's making you feel so good.

“We won't,” he moves back to look into your eyes, “Unless you want us to.”

Maybe it's the drinks from before or the way his cock throbs inside you, but you almost wish someone would see you, so they would know you're the one this bewitching male chooses to fuck, you're the one making him cum time and time again, it's your name he moans out in pleasure.

The possessive feeling coils around your heart, a feeling you have no right to have. You have no sort of claim over him after all, but luckily he doesn't let your linger in such thoughts, and starts fucking you hard and fast again, effectively pushing all thoughts out of your mind.

“Gods, you feel fucking perfect,” he growls against your ear, making you let out a long muffled moan. He draws his cock out almost completely before slamming back into you, just so he can hear the gasp that still escapes through his fingers, before picking up the pace again, keeping to shallow thrusts.

His hand moves from your mouth eventually, confident you won't scream too loud, or simply not caring if you do anymore. Both of you get lost in the feeling of each other, tongues battling inside your mouth, your hands roaming all over his shoulders, coming up to tangle in his silky hair. Time almost stands still around the two of you as you hide in his shadows, completely separated from the outside world.

You start getting closer, and knowing you won't be able to hold out for much longer but wanting him to finish with you, you move your trembling hand down his back, finding the raised skin where his wings meet his back and tease them over his shirt.

Illyrians are extremely protective of their wings and you know how sensitive they are, so when he let you touch them around their base for the first time, you were more than flattered even though you can't fully run your fingers over the leathery skin yet, and you're almost sure this isn't the most sensitive spot. You know this is a big step for him, considering all the trust issues you've seen him display, so you don't mind being patient.

Your fingers barely make contact before he's growling and his pace falters, nails digging into your skin. You'd caught him off guard, but he recovers too fast, pushing you even harder into the wall and speeding up, fully intent on making you both fall over the edge now.

“I'm so close,” you breathe out, feeling yourself right at the precipice.

“Me too,” his thrusts turn even more erratic, confirming his words. And with another snap of his hips, you're falling over the edge, moaning out his name with no care for who hears it.

He follows you soon after, thrusting deeper and grinding into you, pumping you full of his cum as the both of you ride out the mind numbing orgasms. You don't remember the last time you came so hard, every nerve on your body is alive with pleasure, if it hadn't been for his hold on you, you don't think you would have been able to stay up.

His lips find your pulse point after a bit, leaving soft kisses around as you massage his scalp, watching with amusement as his wings twitch softly. You would stay in this position for the rest of time if you could, everything just falls into place in these soft moments between you two.

Unfortunately, you get a stark reminder of your surroundings when you hear the back door open, the music filtering through it. You tense immediately, suddenly hyper aware of your compromising position. Azriel leans away from your neck to look into your eyes, his serene expression and the way his wings cocoon around both of you calming you down.

Just as he promised, whoever stumbled out of the bar didn't even suspect you were hidden in the shadows, walking out onto the main street as if they were alone. When you don't hear any footsteps anymore, you let your head fall back against the wall, finally relaxing and breathing a soft, “Fuck.”

He watches you for a moment before speaking up. “We need to get out of here. People are starting to leave,” he tells you, a glimpse of amusement behind his words.

You nod in agreement, knowing he's right but, even after your scare, still hesitant to let go of him, reveling in the warmth of his skin against yours and his soft touch for as long as possible.

The longer you've been sleeping together, the harder it is to accept that outside of the bedroom you're nothing more than acquaintances, you wouldn't even call him your friend. Aside from moments like this or the rare occasion of running into him when you're working, you don't see or talk to him at all.

You always find yourself missing him, not only his body. That's something you need to hide from him, the implications would be enough to have him call off this agreement between you. There is no space for feelings in it, both of you made it very clear from the beginning. You should do yourself a favor and end it before the fluttering of your heart morphs into something more dangerous but you can't bring yourself to even consider it.

He pulls out of you gently, none the wiser to the internal conflict raging inside you. Getting you down from his hold and carefully helping you stand on unsteady legs, muscles still spasming faintly. A rag appears through his shadows and he helps you clean yourself up with it before even worrying about himself, making sure your dress falls back into place as well. You were truly playing a losing game with him. How could you not fall for Azriel?

When you're both decent enough, he calls his shadows off and you put up a glamour around yourself, hopefully masking his male scent clinging to your skin.

“I need to find my friends and let them know I'm leaving.” You try to think of excuses, knowing they'll know you're running off with someone but praying they can't figure out who.

He nods at you, looking over your body with an indecipherable look in his eyes as he takes note of his marks disappearing. “I'll wait for you here.”

“What?”

“My family is used to me sneaking off in the middle of outings,” a smirk grows on his face as he adds, “And I'm not done with you quite yet.”

taglist: @tinymarklee

#azriel smut #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel acotar #azriel fic #azriel shadowsinger #acotar fic #acotar x reader #acotar smut #divider by saradika

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hotvintagepoll · 6 days

Note

What are some screwball comedy pairings you wish had been a thing? Can definitely be gay ones :)

Okay finally!

One of the reasons I made this blog in the first place is that few things bring me as much blinding rage as imagining the movies we could have gotten, if old Hollywood had stopped being racist/homophobic/anti-everyone for ten fucking seconds. There were so many talented hotties working through our tournament era who only got cameo spots or no-budget movies! for no reason beyond white supremacy! there were so many stories that didn't get told because heaven forbid we acknowledge gay people! If this blog has a mission statement, a big chunk of it would be about highlighting all the amazing hotties who never got what they deserved in their heyday.

So! Let's tear Louis B. Mayer a new one and make some better movies.

Diamond Eyes (1946)

Harold Nicholas, the bored but fabulous son of a Manhattan millionaire, decides to take himself off on a transatlantic cruise to recover from the boredoms of socialites, constant martinis, and west side glamor. When working girl Rita Hayworth snags him into a fake dating scheme to throw off a jealous ex (Cesar Romero), he doesn't mean to fall in love with his false fiancé—or to set the ex up with his scheming accountant (Tyrone Power).

To the Tune of Millions (1945)

Ann Miller and Lena Horne are conwomen besties who use a fake dance act to get into casinos, which they then promptly rob. Unfortunately, an over-enthusiastic talent agent (Gene Kelly) sees the act and thinks they're legitimate, hiring them on the spot as the lead number in a newly opened but already failing musicale review. Who can they hustle at a theater that's barely bringing in a dime? The two ex-cons fall in love with show business, Kelly and Horne smooch at the grand finale, and Miller has an intense will-they-or-won't-they sparring relationship with the hot stage manager (Ethel Waters—and they will).

Untitled Three's-a-Crowd Film (1942)

Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, and Ronald Colman are running interference on a corrupt justice system while trying to keep up the act that they are all simply cohabitating in a shared AirBnB and definitely not falling in love with each other. Wait. This is actually The Talk of the Town. This movie actually exists and does veer this hard into polyamorous romance.

Tomatoes and Toast (1928)

Anna May Wong and Greta Garbo eat sandwiches for three hours. It's riveting.

One Soul, Two Bodies (1948)

Farley Granger and Vincent Price star as Alexander the Great and Hephaestion in this sword-and-sandals period piece. Though clearly made on a studio backlot with a budget of $3, the dashing romance grounds the chariot races and cardboard sword battle sequences.

Grand Central Station (1931)

Interconnected narratives of Josephine Baker, Joan Blondell, Dolores del Río, and Fredric March all vying for the last seat on the 5:45 train out to Poughkeepsie. When they realize they're jostling to sit next to the same sugar daddy who's been stringing all of them along, the four decide to unionize. Pre-code thrills; the four-in-a-bunk Pullman car scene remains notable for a reason.

I have more but I think I've gone a bit delirious.

#asks #silly times

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nattblacklupin · 3 months

Text

Never was much of a romantic

Pairing: Cassian x Fem! Illyrian! Reader

Warning: mention of wing clipping (just as a threat), Devlon being asshole, reader simping on Cassian, reader is described as being shorter than Devlon and Cassian, random switches in pov (like two times), little bit of angst (cassian feels like he doesn't deserve love), swear words, little bit of Nesta slander

Summary: Cassian meets you in Windhaven and sees you arguring with Devlon. Something about your fierce attitude makes him want to be closer to you.

Part two ● masterlist

Cassian was never much of a romantic. He was one night stand guy. He never felt the need to actually love someone. But later on in his life, he has been feeling more and more alone. He saw his friends find love, mates. Everybody had their own person while he was stuck alone.

He, of course, had his family, the inner circle. They would help him with anything and do anything for him. But it's not the same as having a mate. Someone to love and cherish. Someone who will see through him and know when he really isn't alright.

For a while, he thought that Nesta was his mate. But then she left the night court for autumn court, specifically for the heir of autumn court. And he was alone again.

Nesta absence took a tool on him. He really thought they were meant to be, and she even acted like it. But then one day she just left, only leaving a letter as a goodbye. That made Cassian believe he didn't have a mate. They were rare, so maybe he was meant to never find her. It was possible, and he wouldn't be surprised if it was like that. At the end of the day, he is a low born bastard who doesn't deserve anything more than his ratty tent.

Rhys sent him to Windhaven to check if everyone is being trained as commanded to. If he had any say in this, he wouldn't come here. He hated Devlon and this place. It reminded him of all the bad things that happened there when he was just a child. The only good thing about this place was when he met Rhysand with Azriel. His two brothers are the only reason he's still alive.

But he had to follow the orders of his high lord. Maybe he could go to Rita's after and enjoy the night with his family after he is done here. That thought made him feel somehow lighter. Nothing is better than night with his family.

,,I will train, and I don't care what you tell me"

Cassian immediately looked the way the voice was coming from. He saw illyrian woman standing in front of Devlon. There was a visible high difference between them, but she didn't let it affect her and continued to stand her ground. Cassian was amazed by that and decided to watch for some while. If something happened, he could help her, not that she looked like she needed it. Yet as he was standing there and seeing her arguring with a man that was nearly twice her size, he came to conclusion that maybe women in this camp could put Devlon in his place even better than he ever could.

"You should be glad that you still have your wings, I could just clip them as a punishment for your disobedience"

You just laughed in his face. "do it, and my high lord will have your head. "

Cassian heart warmed at the thought that illyrian women trust Rhys to protect them. They finally trust Rhysand enough to rely on him to protect them and punish those who hurt them.

Devlon just laughed in her face, and that somehow made Cassian mad. He didn't know why he was feeling like this. He had this uncontrollable need to protect her and to make her like him. It was the first time he ever felt like this.

"Do you mean the little princeling and his two bastards? They don't give fuck about some useless woman like yourself"

"Sadly to inform you, Lord Devlon," cassian said mockingly, "but we surely give fuck, so i suggest you to step back and let that woman be"

Cassian flared his wings to make himself the bigger threat in this situation and stepped in front of you. While the two men in front of you had their own silent battle, you couldn't help but admire Cassian.

You knew who he was. Who wouldn't know him? Yet you never seen him. Yeah, you heard stories about how he looks, but your imagination could never come up with the god that stands in front of you. His tan skin. The way his muscles flexed under his leathers. And his wings? They had little scars all over them, yet you couldn't help but admire them. They were so strong. True to his reputation, these were the wings of warrior.

He slowly turned around and you couldn't see his strong back and wings, which was slightly disappointing to you, but the moment you were met with his strong chest you wished for him to never turn around. Everything about him looked so right and hot. You looked up and saw Cassian grinning at you.

,,you alright there, sweetheart?"

Your heart started beating uncontrollably fast, and you swear that it could be heard on the other side of the Windhaven. You couldn't look away from his Hazel eyes. It was like they were holding you in their mercy and weren't planning on letting you go. Yet you still needed to answer him, to hear his voice again.

"I-" before you could finish your sentence something snapped between you two.

,,mate"

#acotar x reader #cassian x reader #cassian acotar x reader #cassian #fluff #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #cassian x y/n #cassian x you

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stevebabey · 1 year

Text

the swindling of steve harrington’s heart

word count: 9.5k synopsis: you write for the advice column in the hawkins post, under the pen name gabby. you get a letter asking for advice about a first date and there’s no way it’s the same guy you’ve just landed a first date with, right? steve harrington doesn’t need help with his dates... right? [based on this post] [fem!reader + strangers to lovers but… steve’s a big sap for you already, ok?]

The first letter comes in on a Tuesday.

It’s posted in an ordinary envelope, with only a messy scrawl on the front to dictate that it was for the advice column of Hawkins Post. Inside revealed the same loopy letters, on a single piece of paper, reading:

Out of all the letters you’ve ever received at this job, most of which were lengthy admissions of troubles in suburbia, this one was by far the most interesting one you’d gotten all month. All year if you were being honest.

Writing advice under the pen name Gabby for your local paper likely wasn’t anyone’s first choice of job, not at least for those serious about writing as yourself was.

But between flipping burgers down at Benny’s and slinging shakes at Rita’s Diner, it seemed the lesser of all evils. And hey, it paid decently enough and you had a sweet little set-up in one of the drowsy corners of the office.

It’s how you wind up here, scanning over the letter from one mysterious S.

It’s penned on some spare paper, nothing special. It wasn’t even lined paper like you might usually use for sending a letter of any sorts. It intrigued you the moment it had been dropped into your basket.

Hands flipping through the 4 other letters in there, rows of soft pink and blue envelopes, all with familiar handwriting, you determined that this one was, indeed, a new writer.

You practically devoured it from the first line. Gossip was rampant in Hawkins, like all small towns, but it was not so often shared so publicly with the paper, despite the anonymity that came with the advice column.

Most people in Hawkins seemed to come for advice on outshining their neighbours with a peach cobbler. Some asked whether jazzercise really was the go. There were very few sad tales of love in between the mush.

But this? Even just from the use of the word crush, you knew this wasn’t the average housewife talking midlife marital issues. This was someone your age.

It’s just a little bit funny, you admit — you, yourself, couldn’t imagine ever turning to the local paper to seek out love-life advice. Especially considering none of your previous replies as Gabby implied you had expertise in that area.

You decided it meant they were truly desperate or perhaps completely a hopeless romantic, or a bit of both.

But you couldn’t lie, either way, it’s entirely endearing to you.

It didn’t matter that it was probably someone who had no ‘game’, it was entirely completely made up by the fact they were clearly trying very hard, very genuinely.

They cared enough about getting things right. Whoever they were wooing was very lucky— re-reading over the short letter shoots a grimy wave of envy through your chest. When was the last time someone cared that much about a first date with you? About any date with you? The answer was… probably, never.

It didn’t help either that you had just landed yourself a date. A date with Steve Harrington.

For just a moment, a very brief moment, you look down at the signed S and wonder: would he?

No, he wouldn’t, you decide swiftly. The fragile hope that briefly hung up on the idea is shaken off as you recall his charismatic nature, his easy grin when he asked you out just the other week.

There had been a bit of nervousness, sure, but when you consider the dating history he’d had through high school, well… You feel embarrassed for even considering it.

King Steve Harrington doesn’t need help with his dates.

Besides, the letter clearly states this was S’s long-time crush. You were fairly certain that if the school’s golden boy harboured any sort of feelings for you, it wouldn’t have slipped past your radar.

Last time you checked, Steve had only noticed you when you had gone into Family Video the other week — when he had promptly asked if you wanted to see a movie together sometime.

Sure, it hadn’t been nearly as smooth as you expected, though, that wasn’t to say you weren’t charmed. You’d heard a lot about Steve— though, who at Hawkins High hadn’t?

He had been that customer-service type of welcoming, hands braced against the countertop as he leaned into it, a handsome smile on his face.

You had pretended your stare didn’t linger on his arms. Or that you were drinking in all the subtle changes to himself, physically and more, since his primped-up freshmen-self.

You had even admitted to yourself that he managed to pull off the dweeby Family Video vest, trailing behind him as he led you both to the action-film section.

Steve had stood close enough that you could feel the warmth emanating from him, and had helped debate your choice. He didn’t even comment when you got distracted looking at his arms when he crossed them, even though he smiled a little more smugly, having seen your wandering eyes.

Like it was your fault he had gorgeous, tanned, toned arms that made you want to drool.

But even with all his suaveness, Steve still looked surprised when you laughed at his joke, or his attempt at one — and then some of his coolness seemed to flee.

He had fumbled through the whole interaction of checking out your film and asked if you’d like to ‘maybe if you want, totally cool if not’, wanted to watch one with him sometime.

You think you’d say yes all over again just to see the way he had lit up. He positively beamed, then swiftly ducked his head to hide his hasty grin.

Saturday at 8, you’d agreed on. At the Hawk. He’d pay for the tickets and you’d shout the snacks. It’s a date, were his exact words. He had looked extra delighted when you had repeated them back to him with a nervous grin of your own.

It’s what you think of as you peer down at the letter in your hands, loopy scrawls telling a plea in love. You think about what you hope you’ll get on a first date — with Steve or anyone, for that matter — and pull up a new sheet to draft a response.

It’s about the only advice you can give. Truthfully, dates fail for a multitude of reasons that change on a day-to-day basis and if this S just didn’t match with their date, well… that was out of your hands.

But if S liked them this much, enough to reach out to the murky depths of the local paper’s advice column, then they should show that. If nothing else, you’re sure their date would be flattered at their sincerity.

Try as you might not, the letter plagues your mind as you leave work. Your response sits on your desk, penned up and ready to be printed for the Friday morning paper, hopefully giving enough time to your advice-seeking S.

By Saturday, however, it’s the last thing on your mind — it’s hard for anything else to occupy it when it bubbles away blissfully at the thought of your date later in the evening.

You try to not let your thoughts carry away with what Steve might wear, what film you’d watch, whether you’d be able to sneakily hold his hand in the shadows of the cinema.

It plays a romantic pink-saturated loop in your brain, daydreaming of some silly kiss in the back row because Steve just can’t resist, he’s had a crush on you for so long— okay, maybe the letter was on your mind just a little.

But 8 o’clock whirls around faster than you expect and you arrive outside the cinema with only a couple minutes to spare. You’re more than relieved to see Steve already there, leaning up against the brick wall where the upcoming movies are showcased, bathed in soft golden light.

He’s got on a pair of dark wash jeans and the polo he’s wearing stretches around his arms deliciously, forcing a giddy sigh from your lips.

There’s a jacket slung over his crossed arms and one of his feet is tapping rapidly against the ground. Even from afar, you can see him worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. Your heart spurs faster at the sight. He’s nervous.

“Steve!” You call out, unable to help how you’re already smiling like a lovesick fool. It doesn’t help when Steve’s head pops up, his hair bouncing just a bit. He lights up at the sight of you, features moving from worry to something happier.

He straightens up, back scraping the bricks, and he steps forward to meet you in the middle.

“Hey,” he breathes, a grin stretching over his lips. This close, you can smell the cologne he’s wearing— something musky, with a hint of bergamot — and your head spins, all dizzy with delight.

“Hey, yourself.” You reply as playfully as you can manage. You swallow back another wave of nerves.

Fuck, was he this pretty when he asked you out? In the space of a couple of days, he seems to have gotten even more attractive. He’s got that entire look about him that reminds you of a daydream.

“You look, uh, really lovely tonight.” Steve compliments, tucking his hands into his front pockets nervously. He sounds so sincere it aches, the words worming under your skin til you believe them completely; he really does think you look lovely.

It’s a strange moment of consideration you find yourself having. You’re here, on a date with Steve Harrington and he thinks you look really lovely.

It’s not like you hadn’t heard the rumours about the cosmic shift in the King of Hawkins High — going from sneering at other kids in the hallways to cleaning off graffiti on his own accord.

Yet, some small part of you is still delightfully surprised, as though it had been unconvinced until you had seen it for yourself. In the past, a part of you had been truly miffed at the waste of a pretty face on a douchebag like King Steve.

Now, it’s like an entirely different person. When Steve offers you another smile, earnest and sweet, you’re secretly glad to get to be the one who takes a chance on him.

You come to a standstill at the back of the winding line outside the ticket booth, the pair of you lingering closer than needed. The brush of his shoulder against your own feels blazing, a streak of warmth. You hope he can’t feel your resounding shiver— and half-hope that he does and gets closer because of it.

“That— uh, thank you,” you manage to remember your words. Even better, you manage to accept the compliment semi-regularly, even though your insides are knitting themselves into a tangle of nervous anticipation.

“You too. Look nice!” You say, louder than you intend. The girl ahead of you peers over her shoulder and somehow even that’s not enough to keep your mouth from running. “I mean, you sort of always look good. That’s kinda—” you wave your hand over him generally, “—your thing. Looking… nice.”

Dear god stop, you will yourself, mouth snapping shut and eyes following quickly, screwed up in embarrassment. Way to completely disregard the advice you gave a stranger and pile on the appearance-based compliments.

You do your best to hide your wince as you peek your eyes back open. It’s a relief to see Steve chuckle good-naturedly, a delicate pink touching the apples of his cheeks.

“You know,” Steve begins as the line ambles forward slowly. His gaze switches between the ground and you, too nervous to commit to looking you straight on. “I didn’t just ask you out because you’re pretty.”

He pauses. Rethinks his words and makes a hasty correction. “I do! Think that you’re pretty, that is.”

His quick assurance makes you laugh just a bit and you hide it behind a bitten-back smile. Steve stops examining his shoes for a moment, glancing to check you haven’t taken his words the wrong way.

Your heart feels like it does a forward roll in your chest, seeing his even pinker cheeks. God, in what world do you make Steve Harrington so nervous?

“I just—” Steve continues, shoulders hiking up a bit, another nervous motion. “I don’t want you to think that that’s the only reason, I asked. I like that you’re nice. You’ve always been nice.”

You blink at him. In a moment of clarity, a couple of revelations roll through your mind, each one steamrolling the last one before you can grapple each one properly.

Revelation No. 1. is the fact that Steve had noticed you. Past tense. Noticed you enough to think you’re nice and bookmark that in his brain. He remembers things about you. And then— then he had made a special effort to compliment you. Specifically outside of your appearance.

And hadn’t you just given specific advice like that? You had! You had given advice to an anonymous person known only as S, with instructions for their first date. Their first date with their long-time crush.

Which means... you’re Steve Harrington’s long-term crush. Which means, oh my god, Steve Harrington accidentally wrote into your job to ask you for advice on his date with you.

The result of the revelations, each one blooming quickly as the one before it, leaves you entirely speechless for a moment. Baffled. You gape like a fish, mouth flapping around empty words. You can’t quite compute it. Steve? Steve is the one who wrote to the local paper for advice? Steve Harrington wrote in for advice about a date with you? His long-term crush?

You’re thankful Steve’s nervous enough to not look at you because, for a silent 10 seconds, you’re sure every emotion from ecstatic and bewildered crosses your features. What in the actual hell?

You’re not sure how you expect yourself to continue this date and act like a regular person, knowing what you know.

And, more importantly, should you tell Steve?

You get about 10 more seconds of floundering to debate it, tossing up a thousand different ways this entire evening could change if you reveal yourself.

Steve would be embarrassed. Steve would be angry. Steve wouldn’t believe you and just think you’re messing with him. Steve didn’t even write the letter and you’ve connected dots that don’t even exist.

You can’t pinpoint which one is the truth. You truthfully don’t know Steve well enough to predict how he might react, no matter how sweet he may have been. A realisation of how quiet you’ve been rolls through you when Steve’s head pulls up, concern knitting his brows together.

Something else altogether comes out of your mouth instead.

“You noticed me?”

Steve goes even more red. It’s a glorious sight and in an instant, you can tell he hasn’t meant to give that much away. The line shuffles forward and Steve seems thankful for it, clearing his throat and eyeing the ticket box ahead like he was wishing you were both there already. There’s only one more couple ahead of you.

“Is that weird?” He says after a moment, his voice a bit smaller than before.

“What?” You say, because it’s the last thing you’re expecting him to say. “No! I’m sorry I didn’t— that wasn’t an accusation!”

You mull over your thoughts, trying your best to put into words how it had actually made you feel. How it had soaked your inside with giddiness, not with worry.

“It’s... really sweet, actually.” You admit, feeling bold enough to nudge your shoulder against his.

“Yeah?” Steve asks, the question said so earnestly it’s like he’s not quite sure he believes you.

“I mean,” You smile, sneaking a nervous glance sideways at him. He’s watching you, expression hinting at anticipation. You nod, continuing, “I’m glad you didn’t just ask me out because you think I’m pretty.”

The last word comes out a bit strained. It feels strange to admit it out loud even with the way Steve looks at you; little glitters of adoration in his eyes.

“It’s-” You clear your throat and bite back a smile that might be too eager. “It’s nice to be noticed.”

Steve makes a small sound of content, like some sort of pleased hum. Then the couple ahead of you is moving and it’s your turn to step up for tickets.

You hurry through tickets and snacks, getting a packet of Reese's Pieces, some popcorn, and one huge cup of soda with two neon-coloured straws sticking out. When you duck through the velvet curtains at the theatre doors, arm already looped through Steve’s, it feels like you’re entering not as two people but as something closer.

The evening whirls by in a lavender haze and Steve is nothing short of everything sweet and charming. Even with his nerves tripping him up now and then, it’s all endearing to you.

You two are the last ones out of the cinema, ushered out by bored employees whose glaring only deepened when they realised you and Steve had conducted a popcorn throwing competition between yourselves. You had been left in the dust, with Steve catching near every piece you threw at him. You were less gracious, salt smearing on your cheeks from so many missed throws.

By the time you’re both back out the front, the night has found a chill to drape across the evening. The sky glitters darkly. The bulbs surrounding the front of the cinema glow and crackle quietly and you’re pleasantly delighted to find you don’t want to leave just yet.

“Hey,” Steve starts. He’s stuffed his hands in his pockets but you can see them twisting about nervously. “Yanno, I had a really good time tonight.”

You can see the moment he bites his tongue and holds back another sentence. You smile as encouragingly as you can — though something about how well the night has gone has your courage growing, doubling, tripling in size.

“Me too.” You admit. You ignore how your palms start to dampen just a titch and seize the words before your nerve fails you. “Did you— do you want to do it again, maybe?”

Steve nods, a stray strand of his hair escaping with the enthusiasm of the motion. He chuckles a bit, pushes it back, and steps closer. “Yes. I mean, yes, of course. You’re... this was so lovely.”

There’s a stir ecstatically in your chest in his words, which drip in sincerity.

“Thank you,” you murmur, head ducked in shyness. It’s still strange, for someone to be so forward in their affections to you. “Um, should I- I could give you my number?”

Steve nods again, just as fervently as last time. He’s somehow gotten closer in just the few minutes you’ve been speaking like there’s a magnetism within you that he can’t resist.

“Yeah, totally! Did you — I don’t have a pen, I’m sorry,” He chuckles again. His hand scratches at the back of his neck.

You’re thankful for your insane preparedness, digging through your bag to produce a pen. By the time you pop the cap off it, a green marker, Steve’s already rolled back his sleeve. He holds out his arm.

“Your canvas awaits,” He jokes. Your smile grows into a grin, almost ashamed of how funny you found that. God, crushes made you stupid — though thankfully Steve seems to grin wider at hearing your laugh.

You curl your fingers around his wrist to hold his arm still. He’s warm, hot blood pumping beneath your touch. You try not to focus on how you can feel his pulse under your fingertips, nor how it’s racing far faster than normal. After your number, you hesitate for a moment before adding a quick doodle of a heart. It’s sloppy, not exactly your best work.

Steve loves it. The moment you release his arm, he thumbs over the heart. Steve looks up at you, an infectious type of smile on his face now. “I’ll give you a call, yeah?”

You nod, tucking your hands in your pocket. You’re unable to stop yourself from rocking up onto the balls of your feet in your excitement.

“Uh, you should probably call after 9 unless you want to meet my mom already.”

Steve huffs a laugh. “Got it. After 9. No meeting mom just yet.” He promises.

This time, reading the letter feels like there’s sparking gunpowder littered in your very heart — lighting it up in a frenzy of fire in your chest as you read. It’s impossible to do anything except inhale each new word. You felt a little bad, sure, reading a review of your own date but then again, it was your job.

Besides, you’d tell Steve. When... Well, alright, you weren’t totally sure when you were going to tell him.

Definitely not before the next date. It was still fragile — and some part knew that if you told him, there was a good chance Steve would be too embarrassed. Would work himself up over it and it would ruin everything.

It was like... a souffle. You had to take it out of the oven at the right time; too soon, and everything would sink in on itself.

So, you decided to wait it out. Dish out some more advice and... see how the next date went.

You write back, There isn’t such a thing as giving too much away. This girl will be flattered to know you care as much as you do. Take her somewhere special to you.

It’s just enough of a nudge you think. ‘Somewhere special’ was a wide-open prompt that Steve could interpret as he liked. He could pick just how intimate the next date would be. You promise to yourself quietly, that if you get a third date, you’ll tell him then.

Steve calls you the night after your responding advice is published in The Hawkins Post. 10 minutes past 9pm. He tells you, voice low and sweet, that he’s got a surprise spot in mind.

“If you’re up for that,” Steve hastily tacks on. “We don’t have to. I’m- we can go out for dinner if you’d prefer that. I totally love dinner.”

Faintly through the phone, you hear the quiet noise, like a thud. You have to smother down a giggle as you realise Steve’s smacked himself with the phone in his own exasperation.

“I’m up for a surprise,” You assure him, clutching the phone a bit tighter in your excitement. “That sounds fun.”

“Fun,” Steve echoes, with a tone of disbelief. Like he hadn’t believed you’d agree until, well, you had. “Yes! It’ll be fun. So much. I hope so. When are you free?”

His words come out so quickly. You can’t hide your laugh this time, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip to try to dissuade the giddy grin threatening your lips. No dice. Nothing can stop your elation.

“What kind of surprise are we talking about?” You ask first, thinking over your next words, wondering if you’re brave enough to say them. You take the leap. “Because, well, I know it’s a Tuesday but I’m free tomorrow night and—“

“Yes.” Steve cuts in eagerly. “Tomorrow night, let’s do it. I can pick you up?”

“Okay,” you agree, nodding even though he can’t see it. You don’t think your grin can’t get any wider, barely contained enough to relay your address for him to jot down.

Tuesday evening is soft, the sky a pale blue that washes warmth over the day. Steve picks you up on time. He’s handsome as ever, leaning up against the driver's side door as he waits for you.

Your heart does a little skip when he straightens up upon spotting you, perking up like he had at the cinema. It reminds you faintly of a dog wagging its tail; his happiness at seeing you so visible to see.

“Did you get prettier since the last time I saw you?” He says, in lieu of greeting as you trot down to meet him. You feel heat bloom beneath your cheeks.

“I-” Your nerves creep up and honesty takes over your words. “I don’t know how to answer that.” You titter out a laugh, a smile tugging at your mouth.

Steve hums as you come to a stop before him. He pretends to give you a serious once over, his eyes light and smile easy. His gaze comes back up to rest on your face before he nods firmly.

“Mmhm, it’s just as I expected.” He reports back, soft and genuine. “Prettier in every way.”

You laugh again, nervousness bleeding into the sound but his words sink into your skin warmly. Fingers twisting into your sweater, you try to rein in your rabbiting heart.

“You’re a goof, anyone ever tell you?”

Steve grins. “Never said I wasn’t. Now, your chariot awaits.”

He sweeps an arm to the car behind him.

He’s right, it is a surprise. You’re not entirely sure where you’d been anticipating — maybe his favourite spot to eat? But instead, he takes you to a clearing, with blankets of grass and wildflowers dotted across the landscape.

For a moment, when you creep out from his car, hands still clutching the edge of the door, you wonder if this is how he found Skull Rock and the likes — that maybe Steve Harrington was an explorer by nature. You think back to your advice and wonder; what makes this place special to him?

Your heart twists, knowing that he’s taken your advice, even if some part of you tears up in guilt. You will tell him. You take solace in knowing there’s not much to be guilty of; telling him the best way to woo you is hardly terrible manipulation.

Sure, it’s swindling but... of the sweetest kind. You lead him to your heart and in return, get to steal his own.

Steve’s brought along a blanket and picnic for the two of you. There are crudely cut sandwiches, though you don’t doubt he’s tried his best, paired with punnets of ripe fat strawberries. It’s... adorable. Dizzily endearing, how much effort he’s put in for you.

Your heart aches a little more at his pink cheeks as he unpacks all this for you like he’s worried what you’ll think. He is worried about what you’ll think, you realise. Despite all you’ve heard and known about King Steve, your mind winds up thinking back to his letter... I don’t want her to get freaked out if I come on too strong.

A fire of determination burns in your chest. Loving loudly would never be— could never be something to hide. Nor to feel embarrassed over, not with you at least.

So, you start by trying to feed him a strawberry, like a thousand romance novels have taught you. Instead of a cute gesture, you smush it into his cheek instead by accident as he turns his face suddenly. An apology squeaks out of you.

“I’m— oh my god, I’m so sorry,” You’re wiping the red juice splattered on his cheek, your own cheeks feeling fiery and hot. Steve takes your endless apologies well, assuring away the beginnings of your mortification.

He only manages to truly stop your flow of embarrassed apologies by squishing a sandwich against your cheek as well, just to make it fair — a peel of your laughter fills the field, some of your nervousness floating away with it.

Then, just as you had, Steve wipes off the smear of cream cheese on your chin with his thumb, the motion soft and gentle. Your nerves jump around again.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” you begin, finally asking the question that’s been burning since you arrived. “Because I’m loving this date but… Why did you pick this spot?”

You’re careful to word your question in a way that doesn’t give away what else you know. Beside you, Steve takes a moment to think. His eyes scan over your face before he tilts it back to face the clearing, his arms resting on his propped up knees.

He’s just a boy. A pretty boy on a picnic rug he brought along to your date, in a field of flowers that he took you to. You have the thought to compare him to a painting in this moment right as Steve starts to speak.

“I came up here a whole lot after,” Steve heaves a loud sigh like he’s regretful for what he’s about to bring up. “After me and Nancy broke up. It was good to get out of town and just, like, have my own time to think. To think about what I really wanted.”

You dare to ask. “And did you figure it out? What you really wanted?”

Steve glances over at you and smiles crookedly. It’s one of his real smiles, you’ve come to realise. “To not get my heart broken again, for starters. That just— that shit sucked, you know?”

He laughs a little bitterly, more to himself, and steals another glance at you, like his words are a test and he’ll find an answer in your expression. You smile gently, hoping to convey every softness that you have for him. Every good intent.

“Well, m’not looking to do that.” You admit truthfully. “Maybe, I’ll… I’ll ease the ache?”

Steve seems to soften at your words, relaxing. His shoulders drop an inch. “I hope so.”

“And maybe, I want a little bit of loverboy Steve Harrington for myself too.” You say, your smile turning more coy. It’s true that loverboy was one of the nicknames for Steve tossed around Hawkins High halls but it hadn’t really stuck the same way The Hair or King Steve had. Except for, well, secretly with you.

“Loverboy?”

“That’s what they call you!”

“And who are they?” Steve asks, some of his signature charm creeping back in. He smirks at you, leaning in closer and your breath hitches nervously. You grin despite it.

“People!”

“Uh huh…”

Time flows easily around the two of you, weaving like the softest cocoon. As the sunset blossoms, the grassy clearing becomes breathtaking. The moment the sun dips below the horizon, dimming the sky and encouraging out the stars, you suddenly know why this is Steve’s special spot.

He stretches out on his back, eyes to the sky. You copy him. Two little bodies cocooned in the sweet grass, wrapped in the night-time.

“This might seem strange,” Steve starts. His brows are bunched together, thinking hard, but his expression lightens as he turns his face to you. “But... Thank you for coming out here with me. For trusting me.”

A beat of quiet. A wind ruffles over the clearing, a soft whistle in the night. Steve swallows nervously. “Was it a good surprise?”

His question is so earnest it aches. It’s so obvious that he just wants to do this right and well for you.

You know now that even without your advice through the paper, Steve would have charmed you all the same. That you might’ve taken another route and it might’ve taken another couple of dates before you got here, sharing secret spots— but that you’d end up here, with him, regardless.

“It was,” you tell him truthfully, chest glittering with happiness. You smile at him, nudging his shoulder with your own. “Thank you for showing me.”

Steve grins. He turns back to face the sky, eyes cinching shut for a moment. Breathes in the moment. You admire the dimple of his smile. His pretty mouth. His eyes peek back open as turns back to you, voice dropped down into a whisper, “You’re welcome.”

It feels like a little more than you’re welcome — like maybe, he’s thanking you too. You’re really thanking yourself too, for wandering into Family Video when you had, for saying yes to Steve, for giving yourself this chance with him.

Moonlight shadows across his face, strong brows and sloped nose even more defined in the dark. You stare, eyes dragging from mole to mole, avoiding his intense brown eyes that threaten to make everything in your chest melt pathetically.

Shit, is he going to kiss you? Your stomach jumps with a spike of pure want and you move forward— right as Steve sits up. Embarrassment flushes down your spine and you recoil back, sitting up quickly as Steve had but not quick enough.

“Wait,” Steve says suddenly, twisting to glance at where you’d both been lying just a moment. In your panic, you don’t hear the eagerness in his voice. “Were you gonna—?”

Somehow, it seems more embarrassing to admit it aloud. That you might have been ballsy enough to kiss Steve first. You shake your head without thinking about it, arms coming to curl around your knees. Fuck, you wish you had read that moment right.

“Uh,” You spit out stupidly. “No, no, it was just…” you clear your throat. The awkwardness of the moment is nearly painful.

“I mean, yes,” you correct yourself quietly, clearing your throat again. You don’t want Steve to think you don’t want to kiss him. “I was, but—“

“You were?” Steve sounds close to devastation. His expression has crumpled a bit, regret rippling off him in waves. Your stomach turns.

“It’s okay!” You assure him hurriedly. “It’s— you know, the moments gone but there’s always… next time, right?” Your voice comes out a bit tight.

Steve seems a tad bit relieved at your words, shoulders deflating an inch or so. He nods along, even though you can still see the tinge of embarrassment on his face — it’s adorable, that he’s the one feeling embarrassed like it wasn’t you who made a move at the wrong time.

“Yeah,” Steve hasn’t stopped nodding, even as his gaze has travelled off you, staring down at his hands. The furrow in his brow hasn’t eased up, still drawn together in the middle, even as he agrees, “Yeah, next time. Uh, totally.”

Then, his head jerks up in your direction. “I’m sorry, by the way, I didn’t mea—“

You wave him off, a nervous chuckle coming out. You sort of want to bury your missed kiss along with all your humiliation but with every other word but Steve keeps kicking off the dirt. “Seriously, it’s fine, Steve. Really.”

His nod isn’t all that convincing to say he believes you.

Regret festers deep in your gut when the evening seems to derail from that point on. Try as you might, you can tell Steve is stuck in his own head; no doubt hounding himself for the strange rebuff he’d given you.

It would be endearing, that he’s so twisted up inside over it, if it didn’t seep awkwardness into the remainder of your date. You wish you hadn’t tried to kiss him.

The car ride to drop you home is absent of the sweet conversation you’d had when he’d picked you up. Words lull, just an oddly tense air between you two. You’re not sure how to fix this.

When Steve pulls up to the curb, the engine idling with a low rumble, you don’t open the door, not yet. Instead, you turn to Steve.

He’s already waiting, already looking over at you, a hint of worry in his expression — though, it’s gone in a flash.

Steve peels his white-knuckled grip off the steering wheel, pressing his hands into his thighs nervously. He gives a strange sort of chuckle and exhales.

“Right,” He starts, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I know that— well, obviously, that wasn’t how I’d hoped that would go at the end and—”

He pauses, eyes scrunching shut with a groan as he tries to collect his words. The next sentence looks like it takes effort to grind out. “I would understand, is all, if you decided you didn’t want to go out again—”

“I do.”

“—because that was, well- wait, what?”

Steve forces his eyes open and doesn’t even try to hide his astonishment. Your heart throbs achingly at his obvious surprise.

“I do want to go out again.” You nod along with your words. Being so sincere makes you feel a bit naked, forcing your vulnerability out into the open so that you don’t let him spiral. But you’d rather deal with that discomfort that let Steve get the wrong idea.

“Yeah?” Steve breathes. He seems to remember himself, picking his hands off his lap and draping them over the steering wheel. They tap at it lightly. Still nervous. “I’ll— I’ll call you?”

You nod again. For a brief moment, you think of how dates are supposed to end with kisses, or so you’re told. Your eyes dip down to his lips.

You want to. Even just pressing a peck to his cheek might satisfy your churning, growing urge to kiss him — but you certainly don’t have enough courage scraped together after his accidental rebuff.

A little part of you whispers meanly that it may not have been so accidental.

“After 9pm, remember?” You hear yourself say with a smile. Opening the door, you step out onto the sidewalk and close it gently behind you.

Then you deliver Steve one more smile, one more look back, because that’s the bravest you can be at the moment.

He doesn’t call the next night.

Or the night after.

You’re certainly not expecting another letter from Steve, especially considering how your phone has sat idle and quiet in its cradle since your date on Tuesday. Ringing, but not for you.

But come Friday morning— there is it.

Another letter, scribbled in handwriting you’re coming to recognise. Your heart stammers through the next couple beats as you realise what it is, who has sent it.

This time, you nearly consider not reading it. For him and for you, you consider letting it get lost in the piles of paper, never seen, never read. But burning curiosity wins, coddled by your bruised ego.

This letter is messier and more hurried than its predecessors, letters looping together all slanted.

And…oh.

A small worry in you settles. Changes and transforms into something warmer as you realise he hasn’t called you because he’s waiting for advice first. Waiting, unknowingly, for you to answer him.

You genuinely think the space where your heart is supposed to be is empty — that the organ has melted down like gooey candle wax, dripping down your ribcage in burning hot affection. Your chest aches in the best way.

You’d never understood films where girls lie on their beds and kick their feet up, doodling hearts on paper. The urge is suddenly quite overwhelming. Christ. Steve really likes you.

He hadn’t called you back because— because part of him thinks you wouldn’t want him too. That one missed kiss would be the dealbreaker, even after those lovely dates.

You want to scoff, to laugh, to track down Steve and grip him by the shoulders and say, ‘I think you’re stuck with me if you’ll have me!’

You settle for pulling out a fresh sheet to draft your response.

It’s a bit of a gamble, considering the part about the stars is complete codswallop. The newspaper doesn’t even technically have an astrologist; the horoscopes are auto-generated every week. You’re praying Steve won’t know that.

The paper goes to print on Friday evening, for the early weekend morning the day after. Saturday morning, there’s a call of your name downstairs and you’re halfway down the stairs when you pause at the sight of your mom on the phone.

“Someone on the phone for you,” She comments, the smallest raise of her eyebrows. You ignore the way that makes you hot inside, rushing down the end of the stairs to rescue who you hope is Steve on the other end of the phone. Your mom skirts away but not without one more meaningful glance back at you.

You turn and face the other way, giving away nothing. You’re sure you sound a bit breathless as you speak into the receiver, “Hello?”

A crackle on the other end.

“Hi.” A voice says nervously. There’s a moment’s pause. “It’s Steve.”

You fight off a combination of responses; a girlish squeal and a hefty sigh of relief. He called. The cord of the phone loops around your fingers automatically.

“Hey,” You say, aiming for casual. You’re not sure if it comes out that way.

A small part of you doesn’t mind if he hears your poorly tamped down excitement — an even smaller part wants him to. There’s something different about this call, knowing what you know.

“I’m real sorry it took so long to call,” Steve says, voice genuine. He clearly feels the need to explain his silence. You suppose if you hadn’t received his letter, you might still be feeling a bit confused and bummed out. “I— I’ll tell you all about why tomorrow? If you’re free?”

It’s sickeningly sweet that he still sounds so nervous.

“Of course,” you say. “It’s—” It crosses your mind to tell him, here and now, to explain that you knew exactly why he took so long to call you. You fumble and something else comes out instead. “I’m- I’m glad you called, Steve.”

“Me too.”

Your cheeks ache a bit with the force of your grin. The cord of the phone loops over your finger again and again as you sink against the wall, clutching the phone tighter and pull yourself together,

“So, what’s the plan?”

“You, me, maybe head over to Indianapolis and try out the new golfing game they just set up over there? That sound… good to you?”

It sounds very good to you.

“I can’t say I’ve ever played golf.” You admit.

A little worry piques up about making a fool of yourself, then settles quickly. Steve wouldn’t make fun of you. If you sucked, you’re actually sure he’d find some way to spin it all romantic style.

“I’ll teach you.”

“You’ve played?”

“Never,” You can hear Steve’s smile through the phone. “But can’t be that hard right?”

—

There’s a lot of thought that goes into what to wear, evident in the holes you must be wearing in your carpet from pacing across it. Restless energy drives you, some labyrinth of nerves and anticipation knotted in your gut.

Spread out before you on the bed lies everything you own in the colour yellow.

If she wears yellow, it’s your sign. Make your move.

Your own words— well, Gabby’s words, delivered to Steve via the Hawkins Post on how to know if he’s earned your heart like you know he so desperately wants to. You want to show him he has — in a way that seems like a goddamn sign from the universe.

The skirt is one of your nicer ones.

Along the waistline, embroidered flowers are stitched into the fabric and it swishes in just the way you love. Best of all is the dreamy buttery colour, like the colour that bleeds through at the beginning of a sunset, when the sky starts to change at dusk. It’s yellow as yellow comes — for good reason.

You want him to see you and know.

For the sign to be so unanimously yes that he doesn’t have any space for the same doubts that tornadoed up in his head after your last date.

The type of giddiness that can only be spurred on by crushes and love alike spins up inside you, like sugar catching in a wheel and turning to cotton candy. You’re so sweet on him it’s making you feel gaga.

You’re also terrified — because you have to tell him now. Inklings of anxiety settle in your chest, leaving little notches in your ribs that twinge a little bit. You really don’t want Steve to leave your life, not now that he’s just come into it.

A little part of you regrets not telling him on the first date, when all your revelations rolled into one big Oh My God! outside of the Hawk cinema.

You hadn’t told him though, so you need to tell him now. And then again, if you’re asking Steve to trust in the stars then… maybe, so should you.

The afternoon sun lights through the glass of your front door and coats the entrance hall in gold. Steve, as always, is on time. You’re barely down the stairs, the clock chiming at 1 o’clock, when a familiar toot! sounds from out front. Your fingers stress with the fabric of your skirt, smoothing it down for the nth time.

Here goes… everything.

You open the door to step you and you startle in surprise to find there’s already someone on the doorstep.

The door snicks shut behind you, bumping your forward an inch, and the warmth of the afternoon sweeps across your skin.

Steve’s staring downwards, one hand adjusting his ringer t-shirt nervously and the other holding together a fresh bouquet of flowers- sunflowers.

He got you sunflowers.

Yellow, yellow, yellow. There seems to be a theme to your love.

His head shoots up at the sound of your entrance, his eyes snagging on your sunny-coloured skirt which shifts in the wind. You swear you can hear his breath hitch as he takes in the colour, a smile blooming wide across his face.

Remembering his manners, Steve clears his throat and tears his eyes off your skirt but it’s too late — the buttery yellow has done its job and he knows.

His grin has turned brazen and wild. Confidence rolls his shoulder back a bit and his chest puffs out. He looks so handsome it makes you hopelessly nervous.

“These are…” Steve holds the flowers out but his words trail off. His eyes back on the ground as he thinks, hard, teeth worrying at his bottom lip.

In a second, he seems to come to a decision because he’s stepping closer to you, so close that if you both leaned in a couple more inches, your nose would brush his chin. He holds the sunflowers purposefully out the way, mindful of crushing them.

He smells very nice, you realise. The scent of his cologne inspires a flustering reaction; you’re sure there must be cartoon hearts swimming above your head. You reign in your thoughts before they get away from you.

“Look, I messed up our last kiss and honestly, until recently I didn’t even know that was something I was even capable of doing.” Steve huffs a laugh, his throat bobbing as he swallows nervously.

His eyes screw shut for just a moment, gathering his thoughts, or perhaps his courage. Maybe both.

“But, I am. I’m- I feel like a fool around you and I miss these little cues because I’m trying to think of the right thing to say or— or because I can’t stop looking at you. And it’s because I like you. I really like you.”

He inhales a shuddering breath. The sun beams make his eyes two shades lighter.

“I’ve been confused and lost in love once before and it means that some days I’m not even sure what that feeling even is, what I’m looking for, but… I think it may feel a lot like you.”

There is it, presented forward to you. His heart on his sleeve, bleeding for you.

His affections are so transparent it makes you ache for him more. Sunlight seems to fill your chest, burning in its ardor and the tenderness soon follows.

You feel the fondness you have for him, just a seedling of new love, taking root deep in your heart. A part of you suspects it may have snuck in there far earlier, nestling in sometime between your longing glancing and shared smiles.

“And now, I really, really want to kiss you.” Steve says, the words so earnest they scrape on the way up his throat.

His brown eyes are searching your face as his free hand rises, hesitating for only a moment before it finds a home curled along your jaw. “And get a chance to get it right this time.”

“Steve,” you whisper. His name makes your mouth tender like no other word can. “Kiss me.”

His fingers slide along your jaw and touch the edges of your hair as he inches nearer and your heart lurches up your throat in anticipation. His lips are quivering ever so slightly, you notice.

And then his lips are on yours.

He kisses your mouth with all the adoration of a familiar long-time lover, deep and longing. Pushing up on your toes, your hands grasp at his shirt, the fabric twisting between your fingers as you pull him closer. It’s… lovely.

Your heart aches and soars, beating as one with him as his kiss sets a fire aflame within you. You are officially and utterly enraptured by Steve Harrington and all he is, but especially his kisses. You already miss the last of his lips when Steve breaks the kiss.

He doesn’t move back, staying close, and the tip of his nose bumps against yours. He’s sporting a grin that rivals the day in sunshine.

“You wore yellow,” He says, voice doused in awe.

Oh. That’s right. His words are a swift kick to reality. You pull back just a bit, hands flattening out on his chest, just so you can see his face properly because you know if you’re too close, you might fall victim to his brown eyes.

“About that…”

Steve blinks and takes a second to realise that he must have spoken aloud. He chuckles, a hint of embarrassment in the noise, and rushes to explain. “That was— that must’ve sounded-”

“I’m Gabby.” You interrupt before he can get carried away.

Steve frowns, confusion creasing between his brows. “What? I thought your name was—”

“No!” You jump in again, biting down your smile at his adorable misunderstanding. “I-I mean I write as Gabby. From the Hawkins Post.”

Steve blinks at you again. His face blanches and then, it’s like watching fruit ripen, the apples of his cheek getting pinker and pinker with every passing second.

He splutters, a myriad of emotions overtaking his features; surprise, bewilderment, embarrassment. He jumps from one to the other in an instant.

“You- you’re— and you?”

There’s not really a proper sentence coming from Steve, just bucket loads of endearing and unneeded embarrassment radiating off him, so warm you can nearly feel it. Steve sputters for another second before he finally manages to spit out a sentence.

“The whole time?”

You have the decency to look sheepish when you nod. Steve steps back for a moment and you try to ignore the spike of fear it invokes in you — he buries his face in his hands, squishing the flowers against his hair, and releases a pitiful sounding groan into his palms. After a moment, he drags his hands down his face and peeks up at you.

“The whole time?” Steve asks again, in a meek whisper.

“I’m sorry!” You squeak out, guilt beginning to overflow. Oh god, you’ve deceived him and he hates you—

“No, no, no,” He cuts you off with a wave of his hand, which then cards through his hair. He’s still looking a bit frazzled but his eyes finally focus back on you.

“It’s not— Oh, man, I can’t believe it was you. No wonder the advice worked so well! This is- this is a new kind of embarrassing—”

Steve groans again, though his smile is starting to return. “I can’t believe you still went out with me once you figured it out. God, I knew that writing in was a bit pathetic, it’s gotta be like a—” He holds his hand out flat, hovering at chest height. “Top ten loser move of all time and you still—.”

“No, it’s not!” You insist, stepping forward to close the gap between you. You shake your head, eager to convince him of how it had seemed from your side; a sweet love letter from someone who cared enough to try to get things right.

“It was sweet and honest. Before I even knew it was you, reading that first letter, I… I wanted it to be you.” You admit, a bit bashfully.

Steve takes a moment to look at you, eyes dancing down to look at your yellow skirt which swishes as another breeze passes by. Warm afternoon air cocooning around you, you look the picture of devastatingly pretty, dolled up for a date with him. You’ve seen this dorky and little bit pathetic side of him, with his desperate search for advice and missed kisses and yet… you’re still here.

“You did? You mean that? You don’t think it was… weird?”

You shake your head, a few strands of hair escaping from behind your ear. Steve thinks about tucking them back for you. He doesn’t feel brave enough yet.

“I mean that. I— it was crazy when I figured it out and I sort of thought it was just wishful thinking but, definitely not weird.”

You hold your hand up, fingers nearly pinched together with only a few centimetres between them. You squint, smile overtaking your lips before you can stop it. “Was just a little bit funny, though.”

Steve laughs, head tipping forward to hide his rosy cheeks. He peers back up at you through his lashes, a new twinkle in his eyes. “You’re a little minx, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t plan it!” You splutter out, defending yourself. “It was- it was just a freaky coincidence.”

“A freaky coincidence?” Steve’s brows hike up an inch. His smile turns into a smirk and he rocks up on the balls of his feet, then steps back in closer to you. “Mmhm. Totally believe you.”

“Doesn’t sound like you do.”

“Weren’t you the one who told me to trust in the stars? You should take your own advice, really.”

He leans in so close that you think he’s about to kiss you. He doesn’t— just hovers an inch from your lips.

“I’ve found it works astoundingly well.” He says, voice husky with how low it is.

You shiver a bit, delight zinging up your spine and try your best to not to smile too much because, well — as you find, it’s awfully hard to kiss someone properly when you’re cheesing out, grinning too wide.

Good thing, neither you or Steve seem to mind very much.

#dear god #i hope this doesn’t crash in burn #it’s been…. how many months since i posted an x reader fic #5 MONTHS!!!!#GOD IM SORRY #i had this idea…. november last year #took me so fucking long #anyways… if u liked nine facts…. maybe u like this?#except no enemies :(#ruby writes steve #steve x reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff

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