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daycourtofficial · 1 month ago

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Tell me I’m the only, only, only, only one - part seven

Pairing: Eris x Azriel x reader | WC: 5.9k | warnings: SMUT, piv, fingering, cheating?, light choking, creampie

Summary: Azriel’s promise to be more attentive is proving true. When he wants to take you back to where it all started, what happens when there’s someone unexpected in his stead?

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You winnowed to the cabin, the sight of it different now that it was daylight and the history of the journals was within you. You still hadn’t read the most recent ones, not quite brave enough to read Azriel’s perspective on meeting you.

You would get to them. Eventually.

It had been a few days since Azriel showed up at your bedside, sad puppy eyes convincing you he could make this work somehow. So far he had been true to his word, spending several hours a day with you. He had been bringing flowers and pastries to your room every day, sitting with you and having coffee every morning. He ate every meal with you in your room those first two days.

Each day he opened up about some part of him that wasn’t in the journals: his mother, his spymaster duties, his role in the Inner Circle.

It wasn’t all tragedy or bad feelings, though. He told you stories from growing up with Rhys and Cassian to even telling you his strategies for this year’s snowball fight.

Then you two began eating out around Velaris, a variety of cuisine that filled your belly and your heart. He had always been easy company, your tongue loose and heart bursting whenever you were with him.

It was nice. It reminded you of the before. Before telling Azriel he was your mate, before even knowing he was your mate. When things were simpler and easy.

Whenever his attention strayed from you, leaving you alone, your worries found you, wondering how long this attentiveness would last. Was he truly as sorry as he said? Or was this just to placate you long enough so he could slack off again?

You were open to his attention, his time, his company, but you always felt ready for it to be gone in an instant, never truly letting yourself relax. The one joy you have from if the worst happens is knowing that Nesta would cut Azriel into bite sized pieces for breaking your heart, and then she’d let the other Valkyries at him.

Madja had cleared you yesterday to return to normal, as long as you promised you’d be getting enough sleep and not overexerting yourself. She had lectured you for roughly an hour each day of your recovery, mad and upset one of her healers would be in this position.

To rejoice in Madja’s clearance, Azriel had asked if you had any plans today before running off on a ‘secret errand’. No one had seen him the rest of the day, allowing you time to eat with Nesta and Cassian, the former of which would glance at you every few minutes before pointedly looking at the wall clock.

Tick tock.

This morning you woke up to a bouquet of flowers on your night stand - brilliant shades of black and blue in a beautiful bundle. Some of them only grew in the upper most regions of Illyria. Had that been his secret errand? Retrieving rare and coveted flowers for you?

The card attached to the bouquet had been brief.

‘Come to the cabin by noon. Let’s have a quiet afternoon to show my appreciation.

Love, Az’

You reached the cabin door, unsure if you should knock or just go in. You had left the House of Wind early this morning, stopping in a field to pick flowers, wanting to return the favor. The bouquet was clutched in your hands, a silly notion of making Azriel a flower crown in the back of your mind. You stood outside for a moment, debating your options, until you swore you felt a nudge at your back. The momentum was enough - it brought your hand up, turning the knob to find it unlocked.

You pushed the door open, a smile on your face as excitement bubbled to see Azriel. The smile quickly faded, replaced with something between shock and a grimace. Just like that night all those weeks ago, Eris stood in the kitchen, back to you, his long hair tied back with a leather strop. He wasn’t cooking, but he had two mugs prepared in front of him, the aroma of coffee and tea blending together nicely.

You blinked several times, amazed you found yourself here, again. With Eris, again.

“Are you just going to stare at me or are you going to tell me what you are doing here?” He didn’t turn around, didn’t move at all. You half thought you imagined his voice until he clanked a spoon against his cup.

“What I’m doing here? Azriel asked me to be here.” Indignation colored your tone, unable to overcome the shock of finding Eris here.

“Azriel said he’d be here by noon.” As if his words reminded it, the grandfather clock chimed through the cabin, twelve strikes of the bell bouncing through the silence. He finally turned to look at you, a determined look in his eye, like if he squinted hard enough you’d grow bat-like wings and become a tall, hot Illyrian.

“Where is he?” You muttered, waiting for the door to open. You didn’t want to be stuck with Eris for too long without Azriel to run interference. The cabin was quiet as the two of you avoided looking at each other, an awkwardness that had you bouncing your leg.

At ten minutes past, Eris threw the towel onto the counter, stomping to the front door of the cabin. He grabbed the knob, trying to yank the door open, as if he could conjure Azriel himself, but the door didn’t budge.

“Damned thing.” He strained again, pulling harder, his forearms bulging with the action. He pressed his foot up to the wall for leverage, but the door still didn’t budge. A few shadows wove their way around the knob, gently trying to pry Eris’s fingers from it.

“Mother’s sake.” Eris gave a frustrated sigh before dropping the knob, turning to look at the bouquet that sat on the counter. It had looked just like the one Azriel had dropped off in your room this morning, not even noticing it once you had seen Eris.

“Do whatever it takes to have some common ground and like each other.” The words came from Eris, but he mocked Azriel’s intonation, the words likely from his own personalized note. “Bastardous male locking us in here.”

He strode back into the kitchen, a bottle of something dark materializing in his hand. He poured several generous shots into his cup, the smell causing your face to shrivel.

He didn’t touch the other mug, the steam finally having settled enough for someone to enjoy it.

The two of you sat in silence for a moment, the only sound Eris draining his mug dry. Eventually you grew bored and crossed the room, standing next to him. You grabbed Azriel’s mug, grimacing at it before adding cream and sugar to it. You felt Eris’s eyes watching you, critiquing every movement you made.

“Why do you think you’re an equal to me?” Eris was the first to speak up, his voice nearly causing you to drop the mug from your hands.

“I beg your pardon.” Out of the corner of your eye you watched him pour more of the alcohol, whiskey probably, into his mug.

“Then beg.”

You stood there, staring blankly at him. How did Azriel put up with this male, much less love him and want to see him? He was an arrogant ass, treating you as if you caused this situation?

His long fingers met your eye line, snapping directly in front of you. “Are you dim? Why do you think you deserve his coffee, much less him?”

“Am I dim?” You felt two steps behind in this conversation, hating how inferior Eris was making you feel through all of this. You needed to get leverage, get ahead of him or outsmart him somehow.

“Are you going to repeat everything I ask you? I’ll tire of that so quickly, I’d prefer to write my questions down so you can sound them out yourself, assuming you can read at a high enough level.”

“I can read just fine.” The coffee was still a bit too warm to drink, but you cradled your hands around it, allowing the warmth to bring more fight back into you.

“You never know with the Night Court. Perhaps illiteracy is contagious and your High Lady is the beginning of it.” The mention of Feyre so casually had you squinting at him, trying to figure out if he truly thought so low of you or was just lashing out at whoever popped into his head.

“If you hate the Night Court so much, why be mated to someone from there?”

“Even broken clocks are right twice a day.”

“That would mean there’s someone else in Night worthy of your time.”

Pride surged through you at besting him, the redhead scoffing before finishing his tea that was more alcohol than tea at this point. You sipped on Azriel’s coffee, the taste different from the coffee in Velaris. It was stronger, even with your added cream and sugar. It had a vague pumpkin aftertaste, just a hint of sweetness you knew Azriel secretly liked.

“Why do you think you are better suited for Azriel than I am?” You had wondered this whole time how Eris viewed his relationship with Azriel - everyone around you described him as a monster, incapable of love or feeling. You had the shadowsinger’s side, and now you wanted his supposed other half’s.

“I can handle his ire. He can take it out on me. I can handle him. His darkness, his violent tendencies, his anger. I’m more of his equal than you are.” Eris had turned his full attention to you, his mug now on the counter as he snapped at you. Ranting and raving, it’d be easy to confuse him with a mad male.

Love teetered that line of sanity and madness, you supposed.

“He could do the same with me.”

“Has he? Have you seen him angry? Have you seen him in the pits of despair?”

You pursed your lips, annoyed he was somewhat right. In the times you had seen Azriel at his worst, he was quick to hide himself away, never allowing you to help lick his wounds for long. Now you realized it was to see the male before you.

“Maybe I’m his equal in other ways.”

“You certainly are equal to him in being a pain in my ass these days.” They were muttered, but you knew he spoke loud enough to ensure you would hear it.

“Diplomacy isn’t your strong suit.”

“It isn’t Azriel’s either.”

“I’m quite good at it, and perhaps that’s why we were mated. Equals doesn’t mean we’re the same person. It means we balance each other out.” You pulled a flower from your bouquet, handing it to Eris. He doesn’t reach for it, only moving his head to look at you in confusion.

“What is this?”

“A flower. It’s a pretty plant that grows and fae enjoy receiving them as gifts.” He only rolled his eyes, crossing his arms at your response.

“I have a bouquet.”

“Azriel told us to play nice. I’m being nice and diplomatic. I’m giving you a flower.”

“From a bouquet you were going to give to my mate.”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing his hand and putting the flower into it. “There. What you do with it now is up to you.”

You had finished your coffee by then, moving around Eris to wash it in the sink. Despite how painful it was to speak to him, you couldn’t seem to make yourself stop. Every pause in conversation needed to be filled by something. You wanted his voice to fill the silences, to know more about him, and maybe to prove to him that you’re more than he thinks you are.

“You’re not as mean as you want people to think you are.” You weren’t sure why it came out as a whisper, as if it was some truth that could only be acknowledged in hushed voices and soft tones.

“You have met me three times and think you know everything now.” He turned away from you, peering out of the kitchen window, watching the wind blow the trees outside.

“You helped me. When I was healing Az, you helped me. That wasn’t mean.”

“I did no such thing.”

“You hated me and you helped me.”

“You would have killed yourself saving him. Azriel would have been miserable. I was saving him from heartache.”

You watched Eris’s back tense ever so slightly, preparing himself for the conversation to continue. You let the words settle, let them reach every corner of the room, let Eris relax again before responding.

“Hm. Killing yourself to save someone you love. Sounds an awful lot like Azriel, no?”

Even from behind you watched his jaw ticked and his back stiffen, at being outsmarted or over how well you knew Azriel, you weren’t sure. To best Eris Vanserra in a verbal sparring match not once but twice in such a short time was something to truly brag to Azriel about later.

“You don’t have to lie to me. You can say you were being nice.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” You stayed quiet, only watching him before he sighed. “Fine, if you don’t consider a half-truth a lie.”

A beat passed, accepting that that was all you would get from Eris on the subject.

“Thank you. Even if it was to spare Azriel from pain, it spared me from some, too.”

He didn’t say anything, only moved through the cupboards, searching for something. It only took a moment until he pulled out a sleeve of chocolate, unwrapping the foil and popping a bit into his mouth. Your stomach rumbled at the rich, slightly earthy scent, practically tasting it on your tongue. In your excitement to see Azriel, to pick him a bouquet, you had forgotten to eat anything other than a piece of fruit you had taken with you out the door. You were practically salivating at the scent.

“Get your own.”

“I didn’t think to prepare food.” You expected to meet Azriel here, for him to prepare the two of you food. Which would get a bit complicated with the mating bond, you supposed. You regret not grabbing some granola or more fruit.

“Then I guess you should leave or forage in the woods. Maybe get lost or maimed by pigeons while you’re at it.” You’re not sure why this is what set you off - he had said much worse to you earlier. But something shifted in you, a sudden spike of anger coursing through you. Your mouth started moving before you could even think.

“You are truly insufferable. I could think of a thousand males I’d prefer my mate to be mated to over you.” The words were all bite with no truth behind them. Beneath it all, you truly couldn’t picture any male measuring up to the one before you, aside from the male tethered to your chest who had locked the two of you in here. Eris was insufferable, but something inside of you kept pulling you toward him.

“I could say the same for you. In fact, I could list them out now, list how you fall short compared to them. Maybe then you’ll understand.” He popped a bit of the chocolate in his mouth, the bitter smell heightening your ire.

“You’ve never had a nice word to say in your life, Eris, so why start now?”

Eris’s smirk was equal parts infuriating and maddening. It was criminal how perfect the smirk looked on his face, bringing out a light in his eyes you hadn’t seen before.

“You want to hear pretty words from my mouth?”

“Yes, because I’m sure the action would cause your tongue to rot off.”

“You want nice? You can’t handle the harsh edges of me, but they’re the reality. You want the soft, round edges Azriel wants you to see, not the jagged edges he truly is.”

His words pricked at you, gnawing on your bones and unrelenting as the pain radiated through you. Maybe it was instinct, the bond deep inside of you growing frustrated at the idea that Azriel wasn’t yours, but something inside of you snapped. Some dam burst, all of your pent up rage and anger spewing out in the hopes of catching Eris in the floodwaters.

“You think that’s nice?”

He only shrugged, unbothered by your sharp tone.

“It had to be said.”

“Yes, well for things that had to be said, my very existence threatens your mating because you’re too insecure to try to get to know me. You worry about Azriel wanting me because I’m more likeable and palatable as a mate than you are. And if you had to get to know me, you couldn’t write me off any longer.” You gave him a withering stare, watching to see how your words would affect him. He didn’t even flinch, but somehow you knew your words struck a chord with him.

“I know you well enough, I don’t have to see more.”

“Really? Tell me anything about me.”

“You taste like raspberry and mint.”

“I do not.” His only response was a quirked eyebrow. “A past lover once told me I tasted like chocolate and the sea.”

“They lied to you, whoever it was. The sea? Ridiculous. I’d tell you the truth.” Eris had a more jovial tone, something with a slight competitive edge to it. The air had shifted, some levity to the air.

“You’ve lied to me before.”

He was closer now, looking down at you over his button nose. It should have intimated you, should have made you want to cower or put your head in the sand.

“Have I?” You stared at each other, neither of you backing down. Eris made your head spin, conversing with him like a tornado you easily got swept up in.

“I bet you taste like deceit and smoke.” His lips were millimeters from your own, his nose nearly brushing against yours. The scent of chocolate mingled in the air in between you two.

“Want to find out why Azriel would prefer the taste of me?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me to find out your tongue is why Azriel has stood at your side for so long.”

Those words set Eris off, his hips making the first contact, pressing you into the counter. His lips followed quickly, meeting yours in a flare of passion you had never experienced before.

He was warm and tender, the kiss full of need. He bit your bottom lip, quickly swiping his tongue across as a soothing balm. It was much easier than you wanted to admit to get lost in his touch. He was intoxicating and all consuming.

You understood now why Azriel wrote journal after journal about him. The Vanserra was insufferable, annoying, arrogant, and a whole list of adjectives curated to drive you mad. But his hands were holding your hips into place, clutching as if he never wanted to let go.

Eris pulled away, a soft whine coming from you as he did so. He didn’t part far - just an inch or two, but it felt like a mountain separated the two of you.

“Feels strange. You’re much smaller than he is with no wings to accommodate for.”

“I’d imagine they can be quite annoying.”

He pulled further away from you, a trail of spit connecting the two of you that he didn’t seem to notice following him. He was too concentrated on analyzing your face, looking over every inch of it.

“You’ve never touched his wings? It’s his favorite part. Surely he would have asked you.”

“Eris, Azriel and I haven’t done anything yet.”

His brows furrowed, your words something too complex for him to understand. One of your hands clutched at his shirt, wanting him to kiss you again.

“What do you mean?” Heat crept your cheeks remembering how close you and Azriel had been that night, how it felt to have him in the room as you bathed. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend the male clutching you was your mate, finishing what you had started in the bathroom all those weeks ago.

“We almost kissed a few weeks ago, but he said no.”

Eris straightened, his hands gripping your face. Amber eyes were searching for something in the features of your face, but you’re not sure if he found it. The scent in the room shifted, something new that smelled smokey and like fresh rain. It practically had your mouth watering, feeling heat pool between your thighs.

“Tell me that again.” Eris’s voice was stern, sounding on the last legs of restraint, his hands tightening their grip around you.

“Um, Azriel drew me a bath and afterward we were sitting around, talking, and we almost kissed but he pulled away. He said he couldn’t do that without your permission.”

Some form of realization struck Eris, his face relaxing before turning up into a smirk. His fingers dug further into your skin, feeling like a marking of his own.

“You kissed me before kissing your own mate.”

His smirk became feline, his eyes alight with some joy you hadn’t yet seen from him. You hadn’t made the realization until the words left his mouth.

You had kissed Eris. And it felt good.

“And I got to kiss my mate’s mate before him.” He continued on, pure delight at the situation coming through his voice.

“Surely a kiss hasn’t changed your world, or are you so inexperienced?” His gaze had wandered off, looking somewhere in the distance, but your words brought him back to you. His eyebrows raised up, a predatory look in his eyes.

“No, but it has been a while since I’ve experienced someone that wasn’t Azriel. He is quite the lover, hard to even consider another once you’ve had him.”

Eris caught your lips once again in a searing kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth. The bitter taste of chocolate was all consuming. He moved with purpose, as if he could mark every inch of you, explore every inch of you. To gloat perhaps? To mark you as his before Azriel could? You should have stopped it, should have wanted it to end. But you couldn’t help it, couldn’t stop the burning desire for the male.

“You haven’t gotten to see all that is Azriel, hm?”

His words were taunting as his fingers quickly pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his pale chest. Freckles littered his skin, dotting him with constellations. You reached a hand out lightly, wanting to lay in bed for hours mapping out every one of them. Your hand gently caressed his skin, wanting to wander down to the waistband of his pants.

Standing in front of you shirtless, he was a gorgeous creature. Some deep part of you knew that seeing him fully nude would be even more divine, a sight reserved for only those truly deserving of such beauty.

“Haven’t gotten to see his cock?”

You moaned into Eris’s mouth as he kissed you again, the only confirmation he needed to keep going. His mouth quirked into an arrogant smirk, his hands gripping tighter. He was certainly leaving bruises, but you didn’t care, you just need more.

“He’s quite pretty undressed. Have you imagined it?” You had seen Azriel shirtless plenty of times - training, in the heat of summer, when he was injured. A few months ago though, he had a cut across his chest and he allowed you to stand in between his legs while you patched it up. Being so close to him had ignited something in you. It made it easier to imagine him in the dead of night, sharing the warmth of his body beneath blankets.

“Do you touch yourself at night, thinking about my mate? Thinking about his cock inside of you?” You didn’t even try to answer him as he pressed his hips into yours, the hard press of his cock through his pants making you speechless. It nearly short circuited your brain, making thinking a luxury you couldn’t afford.

Eris’s hands traveled up your legs, lifting your skirts to the cold air. His long fingers traced the line where skin met fabric, your head dizzy from his touch. His hands gripped your ass, sitting you up on the kitchen counter before standing in between your legs.

“He’s very well endowed, are you sure you could handle it?”

Eris’s hand dipped into your underwear, his finger trailing through your folds as you grinded down onto it, desperate for the friction. His mouth was hot as it kissed down your neck, his teeth baring down eliciting a moan from you. He took his time, his mouth and finger working in tandem to tantalize you.

“Wanna find out?” He tutted at how easily his finger slid inside of you, dripping yet at the mention of your shared mate. He slipped a second finger in amidst your moans, delighting in the arch of your back.

“Think you could take him at his full height? You’ve seen his wing span.”

He sped up his ministrations, his fingers going deep inside you, all the way to his ring, the cold of the metal making you jerk. It was too much, too fast. If you had half your mind with you, you’d be embarrassed by how quickly his words and touch were sending you over the edge. It felt like mere moments since he first kissed you and now the orgasm ripped through you, fast and unexpected. Eris kept the cocky grin on his face as he untied his pants, leaving his fingers inside to let you ride out the wave of pleasure.

The air had now shifted. It felt like this was some sort of race - if he stopped or slowed down he would lose. Flames snuck up your body, their heat fast as they warmed every part of you. He yanked you off the counter, your legs instinctually wrapping around his waist before he threw you onto the bed in the next room.

This room smelled of nothing but Azriel and Eris, their commingled scent nearly suffocating. Your hips started bucking involuntarily at it, and Eris chuckled.

“Have you felt the cold of his shadows?” A new heat pooled as he slid the pants to his ankles, his cock springing free, so angry and red you knew he needed you just as badly as you needed him.

“He’s quite fond of using them to his advantage. He likes having bound partners. Would you like that? Being tied up for him to play with?”

You nodded, but Eris’s hand wrapped around your throat as he lined his cock up to your entrance. You whined, rocking your hips, desperate for him to slide inside you. But he only brushed the head of his cock through your folds, not giving you what you needed.

“Use your words. No need to be coy with me.”

You kept eye contact as he applied light pressure around your neck. The look of arrogance he showed you was nothing more than a mask, his eyes giving away the deep desire buried within him.

“I’d like it.”

“Good.” Eris sheathed himself inside of you, the stretch delicious, like soothing an ache. He pinned your legs to his chest, pressing the two of you impossibly close together. You moaned at how quick he was, the hastiness heightening your desire.

“I despise you, and you despise me. But wouldn’t it kill Azriel to know we were together first?”

His cock felt so good it was hard to make out his words, but you were trying. You were certain he had some retort about being cock stupid on his tongue, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when it felt like this to be in his sheets.

“He’s kept us in the dark this whole time. About time he got his comeuppance.”

Yes. That’s all this was. Revenge. Azriel had wronged the both of you by keeping secrets.

This was nothing more than a ploy to get back at your shared mate. And that’s why each thrust felt incredible.

You nodded, but your eyes stayed on his lips, practically pouting as he looked down at you. It only took a few more thrusts before he grabbed your face again, roughly bringing your lips together.

Eris was so warm. He was the sun, Azriel his moon.

And you were caught during the eclipse.

Having Eris’s undivided attention was intoxicating, you couldn’t even fathom what it would be like to be between the two of them. Moaning into each other’s mouths, Eris grabbed your ass hard enough to leave bruises, bringing you closer to him.

He pushed you further into the bed, Azriel’s scent getting stronger with each thrust. The scent intensified every feeling, heightening that bond in your chest. You waited for any form of guilt to hit you, but it never did.

Instead you felt stronger, bolder, braver with each thrust. The air shifted as you rolled Eris off of you, sitting down onto his cock. As you switched the two of you, you pulled the strop from Eris’s hair, his long hair flowing in a red river on the pillows. Pressing your hands into his chest, you grinded down onto him, delighting in the surprise on his face. It was gone quickly, but you saw it. One of his hands gripped your waist, pushing you down harder. The other hand held your breast, twisting and pinching your nipple. Your back arched, desperate for more of his touch.

Eris’s long hair splayed out on the pillow beneath you, the first time you had ever seen it so disheveled. You grabbed a fistful of his hair at the back of his head, bringing his face up to meet yours. This kiss was more urgent, full of need. You presumed Eris was putting everything he felt towards Azriel into it because you had never felt passion nor urgency like this in bed.

It felt incredible - every thrust of Eris’s cock better than the last, every touch from him heightening your desire. His thrusts started speeding up, the pit in your stomach tightening as you got closer.

You didn’t release his face, kept his mouth on yours as each thrust got sloppier until he moaned into your mouth, finishing inside of you. Hearing his moan was the last push you needed, falling off the precipice into bliss.

You fell off of Eris’s lap, disconnecting your bodies before you laid next to him panting. Air felt like a commodity in the cabin, neither of you getting enough. If you were conscious enough, you would have noticed the movement in the shadows, the soft flick of darkness in the corner by the door. Eventually words came to you, the only thought coming to you from a conversation a few days ago.

“Nesta told me she thought you would be a selfish lover.”

“Am I not?” You looked over at him, the nonchalance of his words and his posture confusing you. Certainly he’d feel some type of way about having sex with someone who wasn’t his mate.

You didn’t even know mated couples could do that. Some naive notion from your childhood perhaps - that mates were all consuming, no one else even registering.

Eris laying next to you was proof enough that that wasn’t true.

“I don’t know.”

Your heart rate started evening out, the world feeling back on its axis, but you couldn’t move, couldn’t bring yourself to get up. The only thing you could do was grab the sheet and put it over yourself.

“What happens when you heal someone?”

His question threw you off guard. A brief flicker of reminder to get more contraceptive tea is filed away in your brain for later.

“They get better.” He scoffed, turning on his side to look at you. He looked genuinely curious, and you weren’t sure what to make of it.

“What happens to you? Can you feel their pain when you do it?”

No one had ever asked you that before. Other fae knew what healers were, but they didn’t really question what it was like to actually use magic to stitch people back together.

“A little.”

“So you felt Azriel’s pain?” Just the reminder of it sent tingles through your body, a ricochet of sympathetic pain. Those arrows had penetrated his chest, slicing multiple organs. Your insides squirmed, the memory a shock for them.

“A little. It lets me know the body. I feel aches and pains, scars tell a story, all that.” It was difficult to explain to someone who had never done it before - weaving skin and tissue back together, as if you were some deity, able to undo the damage inflicted.

“Have you ever tried inflicting pain?”

Now that surprised you. The thought had never crossed your mind, but it’s not surprising it would cross his.

“Like fighting? Not really-“

“No. Your magic heals, but I’ve always wondered if healers could also channel that damage onto someone.”

“Oh!” It was such an interesting idea. If Eris weren’t here, you’d certainly chastise yourself for not thinking of it first, never even considering you could use your magic offensively. “I’ve never tried.”

Eris held out his hand in offering, the fingers that had been inside of you moments ago now stretched out. Your scent was all over them, and you wondered if it would seep into his skin, how long he would smell like the most intimate parts of yourself.

“Is your version of pillow talk just about destruction?”

“Most of the time.”

You didn’t believe him. The thought surprised you - perhaps you’ve spent enough time with Eris, or being mated by proxy, to know when he’s lying. It was such an easy read - how did the others not know, not see?

“Does everything have to be some means to an end or part of a plot?”

“Azriel wasn’t.”

Eris’s voice was full of forlorn and melancholy, as he looked toward the bouquet, lost in some memory or thought. His hand slowly furled into a fist before unfurling, still reaching out. He spoke like a widow at wartime, confusing you more than anything.

If anything, you were the widow at wartime. Azriel’s devotion to Eris had been unwaveringly loyal. You should be the one that was upset.

“Azriel’s the first thing to ever truly be mine.” Eris looked at you, his amber irises glistening. This close up, his pupils look nearly identical to Azriel’s shadows, as if every part of him held some part of his mate. The darkness was so familiar and comforting to you, it was easy to get dragged into its depths, to believe every word he said. “And now that’s not even true.”

His jaw ticked, snapping him back to the present. His fingers interlocked with yours before he squeezed your hand, urging you to do something. You only watched, not saying anything, too afraid to shatter this fragile moment.

“Now, try to hurt me.”

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Author’s note: what are we thinking, how are we feeling about the man of the hour 👀

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x you #acotar writing #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel x eris x reader #azriel x reader x eris #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x y/n #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfiction #eris x you

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xreaderbooks · 1 year ago

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Asphyxiated | Azriel

Summary: you overhear your mate talking to the inner circle about someone being clingy and annoying, and you decide to remove yourself from the court and your mate to avoid further humiliation.

based on this request

Warnings: language, insecurity, eavesdropping, feeling unworthy, court of nightmares, there's a stalker, some random OC, angst, miscommunication, fluff

Word Count: 2.9k

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"Azriel," You sing his name as you walk into your secluded home. A decently sized cottage to fit your tall, broad, wide-winged mate, that you designed and built together, just outside the city of Velaris. "Look at what I brought you."

You walk into the sitting room where you and Azriel enjoy each other's company in peace, however rare the occurrence. He appears troubled in his sleep as you've found him lying on his back with his wings spread open and a hand draped over his eyes. He removes his arm from his face and blinks your way, feeling your presence as you enter the room.

"What do you have there?" His melodic voice makes your stomach flutter in a frenzy as it always does and you hope the bond doesn't translate too much to him, or his shadows, the gossipers that they are.

With a bright grin, you bring the box from behind your back and show him a white box with clear plastic for the perfect view of the treats inside. "Cupcakes," You reply cheerfully, awaiting a grateful response. "Went by the river today and Hilaria was working at the shop you like, did you know she found a job? how great for her!"

Azriel grumbles slightly and your smile falters but you don't let it show, opening the box you move to the couch and sit beside him with the room he gave you tucking in his wings.

"You got my favorite," Az murmurs, carefully taking out the beautifully decorated dessert. You take the statement as a note of appreciation for how well you know him, that much was obvious as you've known each other since birth practically, and in love with each other for half of that time.

He bent his neck down to kiss your cheek and muttering a thank you.

"Don't get too excited now, I heard from Rhys about where you're next assignment is gonna be and I expect a little something when you get back," You tease.

Azriel exhales through his nose and it sounds like a small laugh, "I'll be sure to return the favor if all goes well, love."

"What's wrong?" You ask, the energy in the room has been off since the moment you arrived and you couldn't deny it frightened you a little.

You and Azriel have been going through a rough patch, it happens as often as he overloads himself with work but you have always managed to work through it, it's never too serious mostly the both of you missing each other.

Whenever Azriel was working, you were home, and whenever you were working- he was home. You've spoken to Rhysand about your and Azriel's assignments but it wasn't about when he wanted you both to work, it was simply what needed to be done when it needed to be done.

Both of you being spymasters of the night court, it wasn't ideal to send you both on the same mission unless needed. Most of the time, either one of you or both of you were needed in separate places.

On the days, weeks- if you were lucky- months, that you had 'easy' assignments or days off, you spent it together. You and Azriel would spend time in bed or with your family, going on outings, and trying new things to add to the excitement of life. You loved to be together, your relationship being very sacred to both of you.

"Just tired," Azriel shrugs. You know him better though, something was bothering him that he didn't want to tell you.

You felt his frustration through the bond, you wanted to help him but knowing Az he'd tell you when he was ready.

~~~

"-the fucking shop, I mean honestly how close is she trying to get?"

You didn't mean to eavesdrop. Originally you were coming by to talk to Rhys and Feyre about some of the rumors going around the court of nightmares, nothing too concerning but something that needed to be checked on the next visit. When you heard the muffled voices in the townhouse sitting room.

"Perhaps if you spent less time with her?" Mor suggested.

You couldn't think of anyone else Azriel might be spending time with if not for you. Did Azriel want to spend less time with you?

Your brain immediately jumps to conclusions, Azriel has been in his thoughts as of late, and he hasn't told you what's been bothering him. You thought it had something to do with the distance, perhaps a lack of communication. It was putting a strain on your relationship but you didn't think even more distance was the answer.

Azriel shakes his head insistently, "I don't spend time with her, ever. She finds me somehow, it's maddening and I can't tell Y/n to stay away while I figure out how to solve this, she's always just there."

It was like a dagger in your heart. If you were always there it was because you felt like you never spent time together, how were you supposed to have a relationship if you were never together?

You thought for sure, Azriel felt the same.

"She is a bit clingy," Cassian nods. You felt another pang in your chest, Cassian who was your partner in crime, Mor who was your favorite person to talk to about anything, and your mate had all agreed that you were too much.

"A bit is a bit of an understatement," You heard Feyre chuckle.

You almost couldn't believe what you were hearing, your fault for listening to a conversation you weren't privy to you suppose but you would've never guessed your family felt you smothered them.

Perhaps you were too clingy, you were over at their house every other day. You felt like you were dividing your time between the people you loved, maybe they didn't want you there, and you were an imposition on their daily schedule. You felt embarrassed and humiliated that they were in a meeting to discuss what to do with you.

"I can talk to her if need be, brother," Rhysand gives Azriel a reassuring nod.

Azriel shook his head, "No, no need. I will speak with her, it's my relationship, my responsibility."

Cassian snorted loudly, "Your need to fix things yourself is admirable brother, truly. Let us pray that this will not dig you a deeper grave."

You didn't hear the rest, didn't need to.

Silently, you slipped out the doors of the townhouse. You didn't want to lose your friends so if they wanted space- you'd give them space.

~~~

You disappeared for the rest of the day, and the next. You left a note to Azriel so he wouldn't worry- not that he wouldn't appreciate your shared home now all to himself. You still had your apartment in the city that you rented out when you moved in with Azriel.

There were currently no tenants as there were renovations to be done.

You avoided your room at the townhouse knowing you weren't as welcome as you thought. You didn't show up to training with Cassian and Azriel that morning. Instead, you met informants and did some investigating yourself.

You sent a letter to Rhysand with details on the Hewn City problem, told him that he should look into it as soon as possible, and asked if he wanted you to get a handle on it instead.

He replied with a note giving you thanks and telling you that he'd deal it himself but would call on you with the rest of the inner circle when the visit would happen.

Days passed by until it had officially been a week of no contact. Azriel had sent you letter after letter requesting to see you. You denied them all with sweet words to show that there was nothing wrong, that you didn't overhear what they said about you.

Where'd you go - A

Miss you -A

Come back, our home feels empty without you - Azriel

Are you alright? - Desperately need to see you, Az

Several letters with pleading undertones, each one more than the last.

Then letters from Cassian about training, you reassured him that you were following the usual routine. Mor had invited you to Ritas one night and lunch another day- you declined both with excuses of having too much work to focus on anything else. You didn't realize how much they felt it was an obligation to do things with you.

Eventually, the time came, and Rhysand called on you for the visit to the court of nightmares. You were anxious at the thought of seeing them again, maybe as time passed they would feel better with you around now that you gave them space.

~~~

You dressed appropriately for the setting, your leathers, and weapons strapped to your body. The scowl was natural as you hated being here, glares sent to everyone who looked your way, intimidation being the only way to survive this gods-forsaken place.

Bowing in front of Rhysand to fit the narrative, Feyre sent you a curious as you bowed to her, you felt her stroking the inner walls of your mind- a request to enter. You shut her out with strong mental walls, standing once she allowed you, and took your place next to Azriel, slightly behind him and Cassian.

Azriel's eyes followed you, he tried to brush a finger against your hand as you passed him but you clasped your hands behind your back. Through the bond, you felt a sting in your chest. You spared a glance at your mate, you missed him so much your body craved to be near him but you resisted.

It went as well as it usually did, a dramatically villainous speech from Rhys, with some added threats to those opposed to his reign. The High Fae in attendance got drunk on Faerie wine and danced with the whole night ahead of them.

Azriel attempted to talk to you over his shoulder, "Are you upset with me?" He muttered to you with a crease on his forehead.

You shook your head, "No, why would I be?"

"Where've you been?"

With the few looks you've gotten of his face he looked stressed, circles under his eyes, his hands were clenched and you could tell that it was to keep him from fidgeting.

"Now is not the time," You told him, straightening when you saw a reveler get too close to the High Lady.

"We're done here anyway," Rhysand's voice echoed in your mind. You didn't doubt Azriel heard him as well. You took your leave, Azriel right behind you, he caught up so quickly he held your wrist you didn't notice until you felt the world shift and you realized he traveled you both to your cottage home with his shadows.

Azriel had stood in the same spot he landed while you backed away from him a couple of steps.

"You've been avoiding me," A statement. It was heavy with questions, with want of information you didn't want to divulge.

You asked one of your own, "Have you watered the plants?"

"Have I watered the plants?" He scoffed out the last word. "I've barely been able to function without you, Y/n."

You flinched although he didn't yell but the tone in which he spoke felt like he was scolding you.

He continued, "Yes, I watered the plants."

A weak smile was pulled out of you, he probably loved those plants as much as you. You weren't as much a gardener as Elain but you managed a small garden of your own, they were like yours and Azriel's children, something you both grew together. A garden of both of your favorite flowers and fruits and vegetables.

"Seems like you've been functioning just fine," You responded in a smart tone, it just slipped out.

"Tell me what I did, please, it's driving me mad." He stepped in your direction, shadows reaching to touch you, and you saw Azriel forcefully reigning them in like he wanted to reach for you too.

You softened at the sight, "It's not something you did, Az."

"Something I said, then?" He didn't refrain from fidgeting now, in the comfort of the home, he fidgeted with his fingers. "Something I didn't say, I know I didn't want to talk about what was happening before, but I'll tell you whatever you want me to if you promise not to leave again."

You just about melted, you felt yourself wanting to sway at his beseeching. "What was happening before?" You questioned in barely a whisper.

"Hilaria happened. She- Nothing happened- I swear to you, she grew attached. She grew attached to me," He grimaced as he said it. "She was everywhere I happened to be, it wasn't normal, I've warned her off so many times I was glad you didn't notice. I didn't want you to be uncomfortable with her. The moment she got a job at the sweet shop, she got too close, you went there and I knew it wasn't a coincidence."

Azriel had a fucking stalker and you didn't know about it. That was what he was so stressed about. Hilaria- an Illyrian female who had a shitty life, Azriel had given her refuge, because she had no family left to care for her, and a female alone in that camp was no place to be.

You helped Azriel find her a living space, and gave her safety for her to heal from the traumas, she must've mistook that for something else entirely. You couldn't help but to feel bad for her.

"I went to Rhys, he and the others offered their advice and I tried to talk to her about her behavior. She didn't take it well, so we sent her to Dawn court with the assurance that they would do all they could to help her."

"You talked to the others about this?" It all made more sense now.

He nodded.

"Did Cassian say she was clingy?" You needed to be sure you were getting all the details now.

His brows furrowed, "How did you?"

"Because I was there when you were talking, but I didn't know you were talking about Hilaria." You sat on the couch slowly, forearms on your knees, hands clasped.

You laughed incredulously, slapping your hands to cover your face and running your hands into your hair. "I thought you were all talking about me."

"What?" Azriel's eyes were on you, deciphering your words when he pieced them together. "Why would we ever?"

"You weren't telling me anything about what was going on, I thought I was prying too much, I do spend a good bit of time with everyone, it wouldn't be too far off."

A smile tugged on his lips, one he was trying not to show. He was trying not to make you feel foolish but it was too late. "I love you, but this was not your wisest moment."

You grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it at him with little force, "Az!"

"You had everyone concerned, they thought they had offended you in some way."

"Of course not!" You shook your head in disbelief, at how easily your insecurity took over.

"Now my family has some attachment issues, you couldn't get rid of them if you tried, you would probably want space from them yourself."

You rolled your eyes knowing them all too well, centuries with them and you still felt undeserving.

Azriel kneeled in front of you taking your hands in his and settling them on your lap then caressed your face in his hands. "I could never not want you near me, you're everything to me, understand?" His hands gave your head a gentle shake in emphasis.

"I don't think you understand where my mind was at the moment," You avoided his gaze. You didn't want him to know, the feeling of not being worthy enough for him, how you compared yourself to everything in his past and it didn't seem plausible for him to accept you. When he did accept the bond, it was the greatest moment you ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

Azriel was the love of your life, with and without a bond. It was hard for you to accept that he loved you without it if it wasn't for the fact that you trusted him to tell you the truth. He came to you and confessed his love and then the bond happened. You would have continued to pretend you weren't in love with him, otherwise.

"Do you not understand," Azriel sighed, "Do you not understand my love for you, at all?"

"It was easier to believe that you needed space from me," You confessed, shutting your eyes tight. Warm lips landed on yours, you were startled for a second before reciprocating the kiss.

He kissed you breathlessly, a minute, two or three- you didn't know how much time passed. Your blood pulsed in your ears, or was it his? it was rapid and created an electric current in your veins.

"I want to drown in your love, to be asphyxiated by it until all I know is you, in this life and after. I could never get enough of you." He whispered the promise on your lips with his eyes closed. You nudged your nose against his to open his eyes.

The warmth of his hazel eyes graced you and you murmur his name, he nudges your nose in response. "I love you."

Hours into the late night, after Azriel insisted on a bath together, you had a late-night snack nuzzled on the couch catching up on the lost time. You whispered sweet nothings to each other in bed with limbs entangled, and long-lasting kisses.

#azriel x reader #azriel acotar x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel fic #azriel acotar #azriel x you #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsingerx reader #azriel spymaster x reader #azriel angst #azriel fluff #acotar fanfiction #x reader requests

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inkedinshadows · 5 months ago

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Bound by Secrets

Pairing: Azriel x Beron’s daughter!reader

Summary: When you get caught sneaking around the Hewn City, you end up in one of the dungeon cells to be interrogated by the infamous Spymaster. But things don't go exactly the way the General and the High Lord thought.

Warnings: mentions of sex, allusions to torture and scars

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: Okay sooo, I got a bit carried away with the first part and it came out longer than anticipated, with Az coming in at around word 1.7k. I know it’s a lot without him since it's his appreciation week, but the build-up is worth it (hopefully) and seeing how long the whole fic turned out to be, I hope you don't mind too much. There's still a lot of Azriel, I swear! (and I might have gone a little bit off-topic but shh it's fine). Anyway, happy @azrielappreciationweek everyone!

You knew being here was dangerous.

The Hewn City was not a place you could simply sneak into, and yet here you were, lurking in a corner of the throne room, waiting for the right moment to slip out and search for the treasury.

You had been sent there with a mission: find the Veritas Orb. How your father knew where it was, or what he needed it for, was not information you had been made privy to. But the High Lord of the Autumn Court had been clear: you were to steal the Orb as soon as possible. Knowing the kind of punishment he dealt when disappointed, you always did your best to comply. That left you with little time to prepare and, apparently, a huge number of problems.

Because just as you were about to make an unseen exit through the hallway you had previously selected, every single person in the crowd stiffened, and the chattering stopped abruptly, plunging the room into a silence so deep you could hear a pin drop.

As you turned to see what had happened, you realized everyone was staring at the entrance doors, just as they swung open. One look at the two tall figures slowly stalking in, and you knew you needed to get out before it was too late.

You blended into the shadows against the wall as the Spymaster and the General of the Army made their way to the dais on the other side of the hall. A smudge of red and gold was all you caught out of the corner of your eye when the Morrigan entered, just as you bolted down the hallway.

The High Lord and High Lady would be next. And if they caught you not only in their Court, but in their underground city as well, you'd be in serious trouble. You couldn't risk it. You needed to get out.

Yet you couldn't leave. Not without the Orb. Fear seized you for a split second at the mere thought of the pain you would suffer at your father's hands if you were to fail, and then you broke into a sprint—or as close to a sprint as you could manage with the high heels you had worn to blend in with the Hewn City inhabitants.

A thrum of power reached you despite the distance you had already put between yourself and the throne room, a clear sign of the High Lord and Lady’s arrival. You needed to hurry.

“Damn heels,” you muttered under your breath. You stopped long enough to take them off, gather them in your hands, and resume your run. At least your night-black dress was loose enough around the legs to allow you to move freely.

You had no idea where the treasury was. Your father didn't know, merely telling you the Orb was likely kept there—as if that helped. But you wouldn't consider where else it could be, instead choosing to focus on one thing at a time.

You wandered through the hallways, peering into every room you could find. Most of them were studies, sitting rooms, or smaller chambers for holding court. None of them what you were looking for.

Pushing a heavy wooden door open, you discovered a staircase that spiraled down. The basement. Or dungeons, you guessed, summoning a flame in your hand to light the steps as you began the descent. It made sense for the treasury to be on a lower level—harder to reach and easier to hide. That was where your father kept his most treasured possessions as well.

With a smirk, you placed your palm on the knob and summoned more of your power. Your hand became a bright shade of orange, and a thin circle of fire spread from it, growing over the surface of the doors until it burned the spell protecting them. A little trick your oldest brother had taught you years ago.

The stairs ended in a long hallway with many other tunnels branching off. You chose one out of instinct and kept going like that for a while, trying to remember every turn you took. The place was like a maze and there was nothing to help you distinguish the different paths. But eventually, your seemingly random choices paid off, and you found yourself in front of large, unguarded double doors. Upon closer inspection, you realized they were warded, hence the lack of actual guards.

Pulling your hand away, it returned to its normal color as you shoved the door open and walked inside.

Piles of gold lined the walls, jewels and weapons displayed in glass cabinets, and everywhere you turned, something shiny caught your eye. You delved deeper into the room, discovering beautiful pieces of artwork scattered around, but you couldn’t let them distract you from your task. You began searching the place instead, opening boxes and trunks, anything you could find, but there were no signs of the Veritas. The more you looked, the clearer it became.

The Orb wasn't there.

A frustrated sigh escaped you, and you stifled a groan as you made your way back to the tunnels, picking up the heels you had left by the door.

There had to be another room where more treasure was kept. You just had to find it. You were so sure it would be somewhere nearby that you made a stupid mistake: you didn’t count your turns, didn’t memorize when and where you had gone left or right or straight.

Maybe you should have asked for help before coming here. You had considered it, but you didn't want to endanger more people than necessary—or, even worse, have the truth discovered—and you honestly had thought you could do this alone.

You were wrong, and now you were lost. Like a damn fool.

Too caught up in your worries and rising anxiety, you did not hear the approaching steps. As you turned around the corner, you bumped into a tall, muscular body. A strong hand gripped your arm to keep you from losing balance, and the flame still flickering around your hand went out.

Now only the low gloom of the torches several feet down the tunnel illuminated the darkness.

“There you are.”

You didn’t recognize that deep, almost rough voice, but your heart jumped in your throat at sight of the leathery wings and the black scaled armor adorned with seven crimson Siphons.

You already knew who you were facing when you looked up and met the wary gaze of the General of the Night Court armies, his face half-hidden in the dark.

“There I am?” you repeated, putting on a sweet smile that didn’t reflect your internal turmoil. “Were you looking for me, General?”

His eyes narrowed as he took in your bare feet and the heels you still held in your hand. “What are you doing down here?”

You couldn’t tell if he meant down here in the Hewn City or in the tunnels below the palace. What if he knew the truth? What if he knew who you were? It could have given you a way out, it could have—

But Cassian’s grip on your arm tightened at your silence. “Answer me,” he growled. “We know someone broke into the treasury. And I know it was you.”

You shivered at his tone, at the fear that began to settle inside you, knowing you had been caught. As you tried to find a way out, you heard the words coming out of your mouth as if they were someone else’s: feigned shock at the news, deep confusion at the accusation, refined politeness when you addressed him. Hopefully, it was enough to let you off the hook.

“Why, if I may ask, would you think that was me, General?”

He didn’t seem impressed by your display of innocence. “There are very few redheads in the Hewn City, and none with fire powers. You’re from Autumn.”

Well, shit. You were so used to seeing red-haired Fae in the Autumn Court that you hadn't considered how recognizable your hair—or your powers, for that matter—could be outside of your home.

“I…”

You didn’t know what to say. You had red hair. You were suspiciously wandering in the tunnels. You had broken into the treasury using your fire. How could you find an excuse for all of that?

Your hesitation was confirmation enough for the General. His grip on your arm became almost painful. “Who are you? What were you looking for in the treasury?”

Maybe telling him the truth would help. If you revealed that you were in the Hewn City because you had no other choice, that you were not only Beron’s secret daughter but also his spy, his undercover agent, would he believe you? And if he did, would that make things better or worse for you?

Again, you thought about it for too long.

Cassian’s eyes narrowed even more. “You’re coming with me,” he ordered, nudging you along. “And you will talk, one way or another.”

You didn’t like where this was going. You didn’t like it one bit.

You could burn him, you supposed. Use your fire on him to create a distraction and run away. But you knew what kind of pain it caused, and you couldn’t bring yourself to hurt someone that way, not even him. And even if you did, where could you run? You didn’t know the place, didn't know where the hallways led or where the hiding spots were. But Cassian did. You wouldn’t get far before he found you.

You let the General lead you even deeper into the dungeons, following him without a struggle, even as the cold air bit at your skin and your gut churned in fear.

After a few minutes, you were escorted inside a small cell. There was nothing but a wooden chair in the middle of the space, right next to a grate on the floor from which hisses and growls rose up. You decided you didn’t want to know what was on the other side.

Cassian took your shoes, placing them next to the door as he gestured for you to sit. You obeyed silently and took a seat, waiting for the handcuffs, for the restraint, for the questions to start.

None of it came.

You just sat there, the General watching you intently from his spot against the wall, his stance relaxed yet alert in case you tried something. He said not a word.

You weren’t sure how much time passed before the door opened again and another male walked in. He was Illyrian too, a sword similar to Cassian’s was strapped to his back, and he wore the same armor. But his Siphons were a shade of cobalt blue, his black hair cut short, and he was surrounded by swirling shadows.

Your breath caught at the sight of the Spymaster.

Azriel’s eyes widened ever so slightly as they settled on you, his shadows frozen around his shoulders. He stood there, wings tucked tightly in, staring at you as if he could see right through your façade.

“Where is Rhys?”

The Spymaster didn’t tear his gaze away from you even as he answered. “He couldn’t leave.” His voice, cold as ice, sent a shiver down your spine. “This is the intruder?”

You held your head up high, reigning in your emotions. You wouldn’t let him intimidate you. You refused to. No matter the stories you had heard about the feared Shadowsinger of the Night Court, you wouldn’t cower. Not before him. You had suffered enough at the hands of your father to know how to deal with fear and pain.

“I found her wandering in the tunnels,” Cassian answered. “Not far from the treasury, hand wreathed in flames. She refused to say anything.”

The Spymaster assessed you, hazel eyes scanning you from head to toe. “Well, that’s about to change.” His hand lingered dangerously close to the black-hilted knife strapped to his muscular thigh.

Your brother's words echoed in your mind. “Tell him what he wants to hear.” “If you fight him, you'll only make it worse.” “Think of something nice, hold on to it, and it'll be over soon enough.” “Behave like the pliant little female he expects you to be.”

If Eris's precious advice had always worked with your father and his particular inclination for painful punishments, then maybe it would work now as well.

Azriel's gaze didn't falter as he stalked toward you, the dagger now clutched in his scarred fingers. You could have sworn his hand trembled for just a split second as he unsheathed it, but you were already looking down at your bare feet, letting your shoulders slump forward and your stiff back relax into a more submissive position.

A pair of black boots stopped right in front of you. Your heart pounded in your chest, your hands holding the armrests so tightly that your knuckles went white. The scent of night-chilled mist and cedar filled your nose as cold metal pressed just under your chin, urging you to lift your head.

You didn't fight it, meeting a pair of honeyed eyes that stared at you coolly. So close, you could see the tiny speck of green in them, even with his dilated pupils.

Cauldron, this male was beautiful. Painfully so. Bigger issues begged for your attention, but you couldn't help but admire him—the sharp features of his face, the perfect lines of his jaw, the plush lips, the way a few black curls hung over his forehead.

You didn't dare shift your position, but the urge to clench your thighs was almost overwhelming. The most inappropriate time ever.

Azriel seemed to somehow sense it, because his nostrils flared and the tip of the knife pressed a bit more under your chin, though still not enough to draw blood.

“What are you doing here?”

That voice, like silk and shadows and ice. Now you could understand why everyone feared the Shadowsinger of the Night Court.

“Why were you in the treasury?” he pressed, more demanding than before.

When you didn't answer his questions, he removed the dagger and took a step back. You glanced at the General, still standing by the door, but your focus quickly returned to the Spymaster, who had begun to circle around your chair.

Like a beast about to strike, toying with its prey before the killing blow.

“You know, this would be easier if you talked willingly.”

Shadows wrapped around both your ankles and wrists to prevent any possible movement. He was behind you now, his dagger trailing down your arm, sending all your senses on high alert.

“Or I'll have to resort to more… unpleasant methods.”

Your bindings tightened as if to prove his point and a small gasp escaped your lips. You had to say something, come up with some kind of excuse before it was too late.

“Tell him what he wants to hear.”

What did he want to hear? You couldn't very well give up the truth, could you? But maybe if you did, maybe if you tried…

Your eyes shot to the General. He was studying you with his arms crossed, nothing but distaste etched on his features.

Azriel, now on your left, noticed the direction of your gaze. He watched the other Illyrian for a few heartbeats before speaking in that low, quiet voice of his. “You know I work better when I'm alone.”

You stilled at the words. You, alone in a dungeon cell with the Spymaster? This changed everything—reshuffling all the cards, altering the odds of how this interrogation might end.

Cassian blinked, turning to face him. The two males stared at each other for what felt like ages, a silent conversation passing between them. Eventually, the General sighed.

“Fine,” he grumbled, fingers raking through his dark hair. “But alert Rhys immediately if something happens.”

The Shadowsinger seemed to hold back a scoff. “I know what I'm doing, Cassian,” he replied coolly. “I always get the information I want.”

You swallowed harshly, but Cassian gave a sharp nod and sauntered out of the cell.

As soon as the door closed behind him and his footsteps faded down the hallways, Azriel crouched in front of you, the dagger sheathed at his thigh once more. The shadows restraining you vanished.

“What the hell are you doing here, my love?”

~~~~~~

You and Azriel had met four years prior.

When you were born—the youngest and only female in a clutch of seven brothers—your father decided to keep you in the shadows. He never publicly acknowledged having a daughter, believing that no one would suspect a girl, thus raising you to serve as his undercover agent. Only your family knew of your existence, and if you hadn't gone mad over the years of confinement, it was only thanks to your sweet mother and Eris.

Beron had spent almost a century training you, molding you into his perfect little spy, and then sent you out into the world for just as long to do exactly what he had taught you.

You were attending a ball in the Day Court the first time you saw Azriel. You had already gathered the intel your father wanted about the honored guests from the Dawn Court, but you had no intention of going home earlier than scheduled. You still had until morning. And when the most beautiful male you had ever seen walked into the room as part of the Night Court delegation, you knew exactly how you wanted to spend your remaining time.

You watched him, taking in his muscular body, the massive wings, and the swirling shadows, until his eyes finally found yours through the crowd. You offered him a gentle yet unwavering smile, and your core clenched at the way he studied you as you approached him. Like he was already imagining pinning you beneath him.

It didn't take long for him to do just that. Within minutes, you found yourself in the room he was staying in, your dress discarded on the floor and his head between your thighs.

You had never felt so good as you did in those few hours.

It was almost dawn by the time you were both spent and sweaty, but you fought against exhaustion. You waited for Azriel to fall asleep, and then you slipped out of the room.

He woke up to an empty bed.

The next time you met him was a few months later. The High Lords and High Lady were all meeting in the Winter Court to discuss Prythian’s situation after the war with Hybern, but your father was paranoid. He ordered you to ensure the other courts weren’t plotting a coup against him.

You had just sneaked out of the suite reserved for the High Lord of the Summer Court and his entourage when shadows pooled at your feet, and your back was slammed against the wall. The air was snatched from your lungs at the impact, leaving you little time to take another breath before a dark dagger pressed against your throat.

Despite having spent just one night together, you immediately recognized your assailant by his scent alone.

“Didn't know you were into this kind of thing,” you drawled, looking up to meet Azriel's gaze. “Kinky. I like it.”

His eyes widened slightly as recognition dawned on him, the blade moving an inch away from your neck but no more. “It's you.”

You knew you should be bothered by the dagger, that this was a powerful male not to be trifled with, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not when you could still remember how his lips tasted and how good he felt inside you.

“Strange way to meet again, uh?”

Azriel didn't return your smirk, nor did he step away. Instead, his voice was cold as death now that his surprise had faded. “Why are you sneaking into the suites?”

You had mastered the art of weaving lies so long ago that the answer flowed effortlessly from your lips.

“Cresseida was wearing a beautiful necklace at lunch,” you replied with a shrug. “I wanted to see if she left it in her room.”

His eyes narrowed. “So, you're a petty thief?”

Better than the truth, you thought, though a small part of you longed to confide in him, to tell him everything. A deep, innate feeling of trust had somehow bloomed in your chest. You ignored it.

“I'm a simple girl.” You offered him your most charming smile. “I see a shining jewel, and I want it for myself.”

Azriel hummed, knife still at your throat. His eyes scanned your face and you felt like he could see everything you were trying to conceal, all the secrets you'd kept locked away for years.

“You went through the suites of every Court except Autumn,” he mused, the tip of the blade tracing your jaw. You went utterly still. “Why?”

You didn't know how to answer. You didn't even know how he knew that. You'd been caught red-handed, and you had a feeling that any new lie you concocted would be pointless. So you decided to trust your gut.

“Alright.” You took a deep breath—or as deep as you dared with a sharp dagger pressed against your neck. “I work for Beron. He thinks someone might stage a coup, so he sent me to gather information.”

His eyes, which had been roaming over your features and perhaps lingered a second too long on your lips—though that could just be your imagination—snapped up to meet yours. The blade pressed a fraction harder against your skin, a clear sign of his distrust.

“For Beron?” he repeated. Not a hint of surprise or disdain marked his tone, just that icy coldness, so different from the warm voice he'd used to talk you through it in the Summer Court. “And he fears a coup?”

You wanted to sigh but didn't dare. If only he would sheath that damn dagger…

“Yes, that's what I said. And honestly, if someone does, I'm not surprised. I hope it works out for them.”

Azriel's brow arched.

“I mean, the male's horrible. He deserves it.”

You were aware of the dangerous line you were crossing, speaking of your father—your High Lord—like that to an important member of a rival court. You'd never voiced those thoughts aloud to anyone but Eris, and yet here you were. Beron would punish you if he found out. You were first his subject, then his spy, and only then his daughter.

A scarred hand cupped your jaw, Azriel's face now only inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your cheeks. “Why do you work for him, then?” he snarled.

His grip on your chin made it impossible to look away, forcing you to meet his golden eyes. In that moment, you let him see your truth, the honesty and vulnerability you never revealed.

“Because I don't have a choice.”

A heartbeat passed, and then his expression softened. You stilled as his hand moved from your jaw to your cheek.

You had seen his scars months ago and immediately recognized what had caused them. Cauldron knew you always kept yours hidden with a glamor, allowing it to dissipate only in the privacy of your bedroom.

Thinking about all your father had put you through made the reality of the situation slam into you. What if Azriel told your father what you had just said? The Night Court and the Autumn Court were not on good terms, but who knew what political machinations were at play behind closed doors. Beron would consider your words a betrayal and punish you accordingly.

Your worry must have shown on your face because Azriel's thumb brushed over your cheekbone, gentle and reassuring. “Your secret's safe with me,” he said softly. He studied you for a moment, and whatever he saw in your expression seemed to convince him to finally put his dagger back into its scabbard at his thigh.

You took a deep, shaky breath, unsure whether it stemmed from believing him or simply from relief at no longer being threatened.

Now free, his fingers brushed over your throat where his blade had been. There probably was a thin pink line there. His featherlight touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured.

Your voice was barely a whisper. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

You stared at each other, time seeming to slow down. His shadows peeked from behind his broad shoulders, a few tendrils swirling forward and weaving through your red locks, but your gaze locked on his, your heartbeat quickening. His other hand still cradled your cheek.

“I'm sorry,” you murmured.

“What for?”

‘For lying to you.’

‘For sneaking into your Court’s suite.’

‘Because I can't tell you the whole truth.’

So many easy replies, and all of them true. But one in particular pushed at the corner of your mind, one you hadn't been able to shake for months.

“For walking away right after you fell asleep.”

Something flashed in his eyes, there and gone in an instant, but you didn't recognize what it was. You didn't know him well enough to read every subtle change in his expression. Part of you wished you could.

You waited for him to say something—either to tell you he didn't care or that it wasn't a big deal—but as his silence stretched on, you debated whether you should change the subject or perhaps apologize for bringing it up.

Just as you opened your mouth, Azriel spoke again, but his words were not what you had expected.

“I looked for you the day after,” he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “But you were gone.”

You couldn't help but stare, so caught off guard that you were completely speechless. You had thought about him often since that night, but you never imagined he might have looked for you in the morning. You were torn between feeling even worse about leaving him and the rapid beat of your heart.

A grin curled your lips as you rested your hands on his chest. Even with his armor on, you could recall the lines of the tattoos swirling across his golden skin, a sliver of black ink peeking from his collar. “I was that good?” you teased.

Azriel chuckled under his breath, the sound like a song to your ears. “You were that good.” He leaned in, his mouth brushing against your ear, teeth grazing your earlobe. “You felt that good wrapped around me.”

Your breath hitched at his words, and you could feel his hard length pressing against your thigh, igniting a desire that made you want to moan.

“Do you want to do it again?”

He barely gave you time to finish that sentence before his lips claimed yours, eliciting a surprised whimper. Your fingers tangled in his curls, his hands cupped your face, and there was nothing sweet or gentle about the kiss as his body pressed yours against the wall and you began to grind on him.

You parted only to catch your breath, but Azriel was already nipping at your neck, and you tilted your head to grant him more access.

When distant footsteps echoed from a nearby hallway, he didn’t even pull away as shadows wrapped around you both. In an instant, they winnowed you into a bedroom you didn't bother to register, too busy pushing Azriel on the large bed and climbing on top of him.

After that time, you began to plan your meetings. It was often a real challenge to find a moment when both of you could slip away from your duties without raising suspicions, but you couldn't risk your families discovering that you were regularly sleeping with a spy from a rival court.

Then, somewhere along the way, it happened. Sex slowly transformed into making love as you both developed feelings for one another, and around one year later, the mating bond snapped into place. You wanted to accept it, but you couldn't shake the dark cloud looming over your head. It was then that you decided to tell Azriel the truth about who you were, who your father was. He was gone for twenty days after your revelation, and you were left wondering whether it was because you had kept it hidden from him for so long or if he truly had a tight schedule and couldn't make time for a secret rendezvous. But when he finally returned, he assured you that whoever your father was wouldn't change or diminish his love for you. That very night, you offered him food, relief washing over you like a balm.

~~~~~~

And here you were, three years and countless secret meetings later.

“What are you doing here?” Azriel repeated, his voice carrying the usual softness he used when speaking to you, but with an edge of nervousness and impatience.

“My father sent me to retrieve the Veritas Orb,” you explained with a sigh. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I didn't want you to have to lie to your family even more. And… I thought I could do this alone.”

Azriel fell silent, his back stiff, his posture rigid. The shadows had retreated behind his wings. Finally, he asked, “What does he need it for?”

You gave him an apologetic look. “He didn't bother to share that information.”

He nodded, as if he had expected that answer. Rising to his feet, he offered you a hand to help you up from your seat. You took it, his skin cold against your palm, and stood with a frown.

“What do we do now?” you whispered, anxious despite Cassian’s absence. “I didn't mean to bring you into this mess, love.”

Azriel let go of your hand to cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Don't apologize. I know he didn't give you a choice.” He pressed his soft lips to your forehead. “But I can't let you walk out, angel. We need some excuse.”

Right, because letting you leave unscathed and without any information would only get him in trouble with his High Lord. But leaving without the Orb would get you in trouble. And yet, you would rather endure whatever punishment your father would concoct than let your mate deal with the consequences of your reckless actions.

You stepped back, out of the warmth provided by his body. You had a plan, one you knew he wouldn’t like, but it seemed like the only solution to get you both out of this mess with minimal repercussions. Well, for him at least. You doubted Beron would take pity and turn a blind eye to your failure, but it was worth a shot.

“I need you to hurt me.”

His eyes widened, but you went on before he could object. “You can tell Rhysand I was acting alone, that you made sure I won't be a problem anymore, and I’ll go back to Autumn and tell my father I was caught and tortured. But I need you to hurt me and I need you to make it look believable.”

Azriel was gaping. You had never seen him like this before. You knew how your idea sounded, but you needed him to understand the criticality of the situation and agree to it.

“Az, I—”

“No.”

You blinked. “No?”

Something ticked in his jaw, a subtle clench of his muscle. “No,” he repeated, voice firm and unyielding. “I'm not hurting you, love. You can't just ask me to do that. I won't. I can't.”

You studied him for a moment, but you knew he wasn't going to change his mind.

“Fine,” you sighed, extending a hand toward him, palm up. “Then give me Truth-Teller.”

He frowned, and the shadows swirled around him nervously, as if sensing the direction this conversation was taking. “And why would I do that?”

“You won't hurt me, so I'll do it myself,” you replied, as if the answer was obvious.

His eyes widened. “Y/N—”

“Just a few cuts here and there,” you assured him. “Nothing too bad. But my father has to believe it's real.”

Once again, Azriel stared at you, pale as if he had just seen a ghost. “You can't be serious.”

“You have a better idea?” you retorted. Without waiting for his answer, you reached for the dagger at his thigh. The sooner you could get this over with, the better.

Azriel easily sidestepped you, grabbing both your wrists to prevent you from trying to take his knife again. “I'm not letting you hurt yourself either,” he stated. His grip on you was gentle, but his tone was cold. It was the kind of tone that told you he wouldn't take no for an answer.

But neither would you.

“We don't have a choice, Az,” you countered, your voice steady despite the rising tension. Yet you didn't try to free your hands.

Something shifted in his eyes, in his expression. His thumbs brushed over your wrists in soothing motions, and a pleading note entered his voice when he spoke again. “I can't stand to see you hurt, my love. I don't care about the reason.”

For a few seconds, you just stared into each other's eyes. You were still tense and rigid, and fear coiled in your gut at the thought of going back and facing your father. But Azriel's gaze was soft, scarred fingers never ceasing their gentle caresses. In that moment, you realized that he would rather tell his family the truth than let you go back home battered.

And then it hit you. Though you loved the Autumn Court, it wasn't your home. No, your home was Azriel. He had been for years now. Your safe place, the person you could always count on, the one who knew you better than anyone else. Your mate.

“He won't let me leave,” you whispered, and you hated how weak and vulnerable you sounded.

“You're already here.” Azriel lifted your hands to his mouth and pressed a warm kiss on each palm. “You don't need to leave. You just need to stay.”

You shook your head, tears rising to your eyes. “He sent me here. He knows where I am, and he'll come looking or send someone to find me, or—”

“We'll deal with him,” he interrupted you. “But you'll be safe here. I promise.”

You couldn't hold back the tears, then. He sounded so sure, as if it could ever be that simple. As if you could just make the choice to stay and never go back. You wished you could. With all your heart, you wished it could be as simple as that.

“Az, I… I can't,” you murmured, voice trembling.

He let go of your wrists to cup your cheeks, wiping away your tears. “I will protect you,” he reassured softly. “My whole family will, once they know the truth. You will be safe in the Night Court. And if not, then… then we'll go somewhere else, somewhere far away where Beron won't find us.”

We. Us.

For how long had you wished to hear those words? Even after you two had met, you had never truly been a couple. You had stolen moments whenever you could, but it was always you and him—your duties and his. Never a ‘we’, never an ‘us’.

“Stay.”

You closed your eyes, unable to hold his pleading gaze any longer.

“Stay in the Night Court.”

You swallowed, the weight of the decision heavy on your shoulders as if it were a physical burden. “Az…”

“Stay with me.” His voice broke, vulnerability spilling into every word. “Please.”

What if it were that easy? What if you could make the decision and simply not go back to the Autumn Court? What if you could spend every day and every night with the person you loved with all your heart, with your mate, and not having to hide, to carefully plan every meeting, to weave lie after lie to everyone around you?

When you opened your eyes, Azriel was staring at you. He was still brushing away your tears, but even through their veil, you could see how beautiful he was. How desperate. How broken.

And you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered.

His eyes immediately lit up. “Okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed despite the quiver in your voice. “Yes, I'm… I’m staying. With you.”

You barely had time to finish the sentence before he pulled you into his arms, your face pressed against his chest as he held you tight. You let yourself go, surrendering to the tears and the sobs shaking your body, clutching his leathers to keep your hands from trembling.

“Thank you,” he murmured against your hair, over and over. “Thank you, my love. Thank you.”

You didn't know how long you just stood there. Minutes, hours, days—it didn't matter. You were together now, and you would always be from this moment on. You were home, and never again would you suffer at the hands of your father.

His shadows swarmed around you, caressing your back and arms, twisting in your hair as if they, too, were excited about what would happen next. You didn't know. For the first time in your life, the future was bright, and happiness was within your grasp.

You pulled back only when your tears ran dry. Azriel pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead, and you both smiled, brightly and lovingly, knowing you would not leave each other again.

“Let's get you out of here,” he said eventually, taking your hand and intertwining your fingers. “There's so much to do.”

Like meeting his family. Revealing your identity, who you were and what you did, and hoping they would understand and not hold it against you.

As Azriel stepped back to turn toward the door, you hesitated.

“Can you promise me something?” you asked, your voice quiet and still a bit hoarse from crying.

He stopped, worried eyes immediately searching your face for any sign of discomfort or concern. “Of course, love. Anything you want.”

“It's nothing too big, just…” You offered a small smile and squeezed his fingers. “No more secrets, Az.”

His hazel eyes softened, and his lips curled into a beautiful smile. He nodded, tugging gently on your hand to lead you out of the cell and into your new life. “No more secrets.”

2nd a/n: if the lines "Stay / Stay in the Night Court / Stay with me" reminded you of another very similar quote, you are correct. I had originally written "Stay in the Night Court. Just... stay with me" and it made me think of that quote, which is one of my favorite quotes from one of my favorite books and said by one of my favorite characters ever, so I decided to include it (a little easter egg, if you will). Kaz and Azriel 🤝 simping for the girl they like

General taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @aaahhh0127 @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings

Azriel Week: @fourthwing4ever

#azrielappreciationweek2024 #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel fic #sjm #sarah j maas #acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #azriel fluff #azriel angst #fanfiction

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slytherin-pen · 2 months ago

Text

Lessons In Discipline

pairing: Azriel x Reader x Cassian

word count: 2.1k

warnings: alludes to smut

a/n: happy valentine’s day to all my brats out there

@sjmromanceweek

Part 2

Azriel was away on a mission while you stayed at home with Cassian. Azriel was only supposed to be gone for a few days but then it turned into a week. You were upset, to say the least. You had half a mind to barge into Rhysand’s office, curse him for sending your mate away, and then demand he order him home. Cassian wouldn’t allow you to get into such trouble though. Your mates knew you well— too well. Cassian could practically smell the defiance on you grow every day that went by. In Azriel’s absence, you were turning into a bona fide brat.

It was just Cassian’s luck that dealing with this sort of attitude from you was more of Azriel’s forte than his. You were usually so sweet and obedient for Cass. But now, he’s convinced a demon has possessed his little angel and he can’t wait for Azriel to get home and handle this. Cassian had been dealing with you the best he could. He was a General for Cauldron’s sake, how could he not get one female to behave?

“Come on, sweetheart. That’s enough. It’s time to go, we’re going to be late,” Cassian said. He was standing at the end of your shared bed looking down at the lump of sheets he called his mate with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I don’t wanna go,” you mumbled into the pillow. And in case he didn’t hear you, you grabbed more blanket and yanked it over your head. There. The message ought to be loud and clear.

Cassian rolled his eyes. He did not have the patience that Azriel did. He was getting fed up with your antics.

Your defiant streak started out simple at first. You wouldn’t come or even respond when Cassian called for you across the house, when he was trying to usher you out the door you’d drag your feet and stomp complaining about Mother knows what, and you even slammed a door or two. Fine, he could handle that. What he can’t handle is you refusing to go to training three days in a row, turning your nose up at every meal in favor of the House sneaking you treats later, and your vicious snarling when he tried to encourage you to do literally anything.

“Alright,” he huffed.

You shrieked as all the blankets were thrown off you and Cassian dragged you to the edge of the bed by your ankles. He threw you over his shoulder and ignored the incessant whacking at his back as he strode into the bathing chamber. He sat you down on the counter, caging you in with his wings, and gripped your chin between his fingers. “Listen here, little miss,” you kicked his shin in a pathetic attempt at escape that only earned you a growl, “If you don’t want to go to training today, fine. I don’t imagine the Valkyries would appreciate your attitude either. But you are going to get dressed, and then you’re going to march your ass downstairs for breakfast. I’ll be back for lunch and then we are going to talk about what’s been going on with you. Understood?”

You crossed your arms and shook your head. “No.”

The General narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side. He’d kiss the pout right off your lips if he wasn’t sure that would only be feeding into your behavior. Instead, he placed his hands on your thighs and gave a little squeeze. “No?”

“Mm mm, no,” you shook your head again, more aggressively this time.

The first two days after Azriel left you had acted fine. It wasn’t until the third day when Cassian couldn’t take you to the bookstore in the afternoon, because he was busy training at Windhaven, that you started acting different. Az always took you to the bookstore that day of the week, it was part of your routine. The next day you got your ass kicked in training. You were slow, uncoordinated, and failed to use the blocks that should be ingrained in your muscle memory by now. You felt like a total idiot and just wanted to cry, but Cassian hadn’t even noticed as he supervised two other Valkyries sparring. You’d limped back to the house and licked your wounds alone, and Cass had gone straight to Windhaven after.

That had been the final straw. Your whole routine gets thrown upside down and Cassian can’t even drop off an hour or two of training shifts? He might as well have left with Azriel too, considering how much time he was spending everywhere but at the house with you. You knew it wasn't his fault Rhysand had him so busy, but you were frustrated, feeling trapped at the house with no means of leaving. As a Fae without wings, you were left to wait around, longing for their attention and companionship while they worked. You just wanted your mates back, and if that required you to act like the she-devil incarnate, then so be it.

Cassian dropped his head in momentary defeat. He wasn’t getting anywhere with you and he knew there was only one person that knew how to fix this. You loved both your mates equally but they were their own unique piece of the puzzle. They did not fit in the exact same place. While Cassian may be the General, to you he was your oversized, winged teddy bear. He never raised his voice at you outside of orders during training. He rarely told you no. He was the one you went to for a laugh, to get into trouble, or when you needed comfort only his arms could give. There was a reason there were the three of you and not just two, though. There was a balance, and right now the third piece of this arrangement was away on the Continent. Just as Cassian had his role, Azriel had his. Azriel provided the rules, the structure, and if necessary… the punishment.

“Do I need to tell Rhys to send Azriel home? Tell him that his sweet little mate can’t behave without him?” Cassian asked, leveling his eyes at you.

There was a flicker in your eyes. Of fear or excitement, he couldn't quite decide. But he did feel you squeeze your thighs together. “What do you mean?” you whispered.

He knew he had you then. In a low voice, he asked again, “Is that what you need? Azriel to come home and take care of this bratty attitude? I can't imagine he’ll be happy to be pulled away from his mission because someone doesn't know how to behave, but he will if I ask him to.”

“N-no, you don't need to bother him.” Your thighs clenched again, and you tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped.

Admittedly, you had never done this before. When it came to breaking rules for fun or to get what you want, that was mostly reserved for the bedroom with Azriel. It was something you two had explored many times, but it was usually Az initiating it. Cassian had witnessed some examples of it during the times the three of you had sex together. He knew you liked it when he and Az were in complete control, but he didn't know how to approach this new development alone.

He hummed, and his eyes glazed over for a moment. “You sure? Az has been gone for a while. It's okay if you need him to come remind you of your manners.”

“I’m sure,” you squeaked. “Please, I’ll be good.”

“I don't know, sweetheart. You had five days to show you could behave, and you didn't.” He tucked his wings in and backed away, finally giving you room to get off the counter. He gestured to the open door with his hand, “Go get dressed. Meet me downstairs when you're done.”

He didn't wait for you to refuse or argue. He just sauntered off out of the room, leaving you with a racing heart.

You managed to gather yourself and quickly pulled on a simple dress, but your heart raced with the anticipation of what would happen next. You made your way downstairs, the tension swirling inside you as Cassian’s words echoed in your mind. He rarely took on this authoritative role, and the thought of Azriel’s impending return had sent a pulse of excitement through you, even as you tried to convince yourself that you didn’t need him to come home just yet.

Cassian was waiting for you in the kitchen, arms crossed, his eyes fixed on you. He raised a brow, and you knew that he was waiting to see if you would keep your promise to behave.

You slipped into a chair, averting your eyes, trying to focus on anything but the heat of his gaze.

“Eat,” he ordered softly, but there was an edge to his voice that made your stomach flip again. You did as told, nibbling on the food set out for you, though it was hard to swallow with the anxiety growing in you.

The morning went by uneventfully after that, but the underlying threat of Azriel’s return lingered in the back of your mind, especially as Cassian kept a close watch on you, his presence more intense than usual.

By the time lunch rolled around, you were jittery, unable to sit still. Cassian walked in from the training grounds, wiping the sweat from his brow, and stopped just inside the doorway when he saw you sitting on the couch, fidgeting with your fingers.

Before he could say anything, the balcony door swung open, and a familiar presence filled the space. Your breath caught in your throat as Azriel stepped inside, the tension in his shoulders palpable. He locked eyes with you immediately, and you knew you were in for it.

“Welcome home,” Cassian said casually, though you noticed the hint of satisfaction in his voice as he glanced between the two of you. Azriel didn’t respond to him. His focus was entirely on you, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place.

“Come here,” Azriel commanded, his voice low and lethal, sending a shiver down your spine.

You hesitated for only a second before you stood and approached him slowly, your heart pounding in your chest. His shadows swirled around him, dark and foreboding, a reminder of the power he he had over you—and the punishment you were about to receive.

Azriel’s gloved fingers brushed your chin, tipping your head up to meet his piercing stare. “Cassian told me everything,” he murmured, his tone sending sparks of both fear and desire through you. “You’ve been a very bad girl.”

You swallowed thickly, trying to maintain your composure, but the truth was, you’d missed this—missed him. His control, his presence, the way he could make you fall apart with just a few words.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” you whispered, but it sounded weak, even to your own ears.

Azriel’s grip on your chin tightened just slightly. “Sorry won’t cut it this time, pretty girl. You know better than to act out just because I’m not here.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting back the mix of excitement and nerves pooling in your stomach.

Without another word, Azriel’s shadows enveloped you, binding your wrists behind your back in a swift motion that left you breathless. He guided you towards the living room, where Cassian had discreetly taken a seat, watching the scene unfold with darkened eyes.

“Since you decided to act like a brat,” Azriel said, his voice smooth but filled with dominance, “I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”

He bent you over the arm of the couch, your cheek pressed against the soft cushion as his hand ran up the back of your thigh, lifting the hem of your dress. “You’ve earned yourself a punishment,” he continued, “and you’ll take every bit of it until you’ve learned your lesson.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the whimper that threatened to escape as Azriel’s touch ignited your skin, the anticipation of what was coming sending a fresh wave of heat through your body.

Cassian’s eyes burned into you from across the room, his presence only heightening your arousal. You knew this was exactly what you needed, what both your mates knew you craved deep down, even if you’d tried to fight it.

As Azriel’s hand came down in a sharp smack against your backside, you couldn’t hold back the gasp that escaped your lips. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be begging to be my good girl again.”

#acotar #cassian #cassian x reader #azriel #azriel x reader #cazriel #cazriel x reader #azriel smut #cassian smut #sarah j maas #fic writer #sjmromanceweek2025

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ak4e7a · 2 months ago

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𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦 (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞) - 𝐩𝐬𝐡

𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧 / '𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐦

synopsis: you were never one to take the high road... until you met someone who made your body burn like rubber on asphalt.

street racer! hoon x street racer!maneater! reader

wc: 16.9k holy fuck honestly this hoe might be a 3-parter lowk

a/n: hi sorry i disappeared... but enjoy LOL and happy one year to my blog! i met so many cool people over this past year. reblogs are appreciated and i will astral project into your room and hug you ≽ܫ≼

banner by @karinasbaby i love you this one's for you big dawg. year in the making, let's go

“Didn’t think you were going to grace us with your presence tonight, Miss Probation,” Jaeyun smirks as you get out of your car, swinging both of your legs out closed like a lady so as to not flash anyone with the black miniskirt you’re wearing. He greets you with an air-kiss to your cheek, to which you roll your eyes—although you bask in the way the other girls stare at the two of you. If only they knew how annoying your best friend actually was.

“It’s Jungwonie’s turn to race for us, so who am I to deprive my brother and the team of our good luck charm? We need all the luck we can get tonight,” you reply, taking a seat on the hood of your baby pink Supra. “We’re on a good win streak. Might even take this season’s cup without me.”

The other racers from different teams have started to arrive, many of them making their way over to say hello to you. You give your girls—Jimin, who races for Razor; Aeri, the beloved race girl; and Soyeon, a member of the AZ team—air-kisses from across the parking lot. You aren’t feeling like walking over to the groups they’re mingling with. (And because you don’t feel like being near Hwang Hyunjin right now.)

“Fair enough,” he acquiesces, sitting beside you when you pat the spot next to him. “But you know, Wonie is better than you think—”

“Hey, you never let me sit on your car,” Wonbin says, striding over to you with a smirk. You glance up at him, and he looks like he’s expecting you to either push Jaeyun off or scoot over yourself—either way, he wants a turn.

Basically everyone in your little racing scene does, but you think it’s more fun to work them like dogs than to give in to anyone. Especially not after what happened with— “You’re not even in Enigma, Wonbin. Privilege is for teammates only, get lost,” Jaeyun says condescendingly.

He looks at you again, like an expectant puppy—which only works if it’s Jaeyun doing it to you— waiting for you to reach into your purse. You sigh and reach in and feel around for a particular wrapper. “Here. Go away.”

The Australian snickers as Wonbin walks away dejectedly. “The grandma coffee candy, huh?”

“He was too cocky, that's all he deserves tonight. Even if he’s cute. He’s lucky I gave him anything at all.”

“What about me? I’m cuter,” Jaeyun asks, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear with his signature cheeky grin, batting his eyelashes at you the way you do to him. You’re used to flirting with him; it’s more of a way to keep both your skills and his sharp than anything romantic or suggestive. After all, you grew up with Jaeyun, and you know all his embarrassing secrets just like he knows yours. One time in high school, the two of you fake-dated for a week to get some girl too obsessed with him for her own good to leave him alone. It’s safe to say she didn’t buy it, not one bit. You and him bickered too much for it to be believable, and you accidentally screamed when he kissed you on the forehead.

“Hmm…” Playfully, you pretend to be deep in thought, hand digging in your purse again. “Here.”

His face lights up in innocent delight, a huge contrast to his outfit of baggy cargo pants, oversized hoodie, and sneakers, complete with a thick, iced-out Cuban-link chain around his neck. “Ooh, yum! Grape Hi-Chew!”

You roll your eyes. “I only carry that for you, loser. Everyone knows the mango one is the best.”

“You just say that because grape was—”

“Hey, Y/N! Nice wrap,” Riki says, waving his long arms at you like he’s drowning. The tall, newly-turned 21-year-old bounds towards you before tackling you in a hug that sends you almost crashing into the ground, your hands flying to tug the hem of your skirt down lest your protective younger brother scold you about not dressing for the weather. It’s a cold spring night, as proven by Riki who’s in a loose, knitted navy blue sweater and destroyed light wash jeans.

“Jeez, Riki, I just saw you yesterday, no need to suffocate me,” you grumble affectionately, reaching up to muss his black-and-silver hair before sitting back down on the hood of your car. You’ve been fond of the boy since Jungwon brought him over one day, his first new friend since losing his best friend (and one of yours, honestly) in a betrayal that still hurts to speak of to this day. Riki clings onto you like you’re his older sister, too, and you reckon it probably has something to do with missing his own sister back home. “You saw me finish the wrap on the car, too, remember? Jimin and Soyeon were there.”

“Yeah, yeah, but it looks good even at night! Very professional. Maybe you can wrap the GTR next?” he says, to which you side-eye him, and he adds, “I can pay you.”

“You can pay for my meals every time we go out to eat for the next three months and I’ll call it even.”

He laughs. “Okay, deal. You eat less than Jungwon hyung, anyways.”

“Why are you talking shit about me to my sister again, freak?” your younger brother demands, making his way up to the small crowd that’s starting to form around you, Riki, and Jaeyun. He looks taller today, you think to yourself, and when he comes into full view, you see that he’s riding on the back of an unfamiliar person, a tall man with a sharp jawline and a pretty nose, whose bangs droop over his eyes. He’s wearing a white tank top and jeans, with a black and blue leather racing jacket covering his torso from the chilly Seoul air.

“Well, did I fucking lie?” Riki snaps back, arms crossed. You hide your laugh in the crook of your arm, eyes locking with the man who’s got your brother draped over his broad shoulders like a backpack. He looks at you intensely, in a way that makes you feel like he’s got x-ray vision or something. You feel like your insides are turning into lava. What’s his deal?

“Whatever, cricket legs.” Jungwon jumps off the man’s back, shaking his hair out of his eyes. You notice that he’s yet again stolen one of your oversized hoodies. “Oh, hyung! This is my sister, by the way. Noona, this is Sunghoon hyung. He’s joining Enigma.”

He’s cute, pretty, even, and you like that. You’ve always preferred pretty boys. And up until about five seconds ago, you would have said that—even though your ex-boyfriend is a cheating bastard who deserves nothing but suffering—he was still the prettiest man you’ve come across.

But this one, this one in front of you right now, this one takes the cake. He’s got full, thick brows that frame dark almond eyes, and his cheekbones flow into his jawline in a way that makes you think his face has probably stopped traffic at least once in his life. Before you stare at him for way too long, you reach into your purse and pull out one of your mango-flavored Hi-Chews (from your personal stash) to give him.

“Hi, Sunghoon. Nice to meet you. Welcome to Enigma.”

He repeats his own version of your greeting a bit too curtly for your liking, but you don’t care either way, he’ll be under your thumb in no time, just like everyone else, just the way you like. Rolling the wrapped cube in his hand, he asks, “What’s this for?”

To which you reply, “Oh, nothing. I just like candy.”

“I feel like ‘like’ is an understatement,” Riki snorts, sticking his hand in your purse for something he can snack on. You sigh and hand him your purse for him to rummage around more freely.

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow at that, but turns to you anyways. “Do you race, too? I don’t want to assume or anything.”

You give him a coy smile, translucent bubblegum-pink-manicured fingernails clicking against the hood of your car as you drum your fingers against it. “Yeah, I do. I’m banned from racing right now, though, until the end of the season at least.”

He cocks his head like a curious puppy, blinking slowly at you. Oh, no. He’s cute and probably doesn’t know it, but he’s definitely dressed like he knows he’s hot. “Why’s that?”

Your smile turns into a smug smirk as you answer, “Because I go too fast.”

“Fourth-gen Supra,” he muses, glancing between your bare legs at the titanium Toyota emblem on the hood that you’d had imported from Japan. For some reason, you have to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together. “Cute.”

“Oh? And what’s your ride?”

“Beamer M8 Comp,” Sunghoon says, an air of nonchalance about the answer like it’s nothing special. It kind of pisses you off. You’re pretty certain he didn’t win that car by racing for the pink slip like you did with your Supra. Before you got that car, Jungwon’s 350Z was yours, and you’d only had it because you salvaged it from a junkyard and rebuilt the whole damn thing yourself when you weren’t working or sleeping.

If there’s one thing you might hate more in this life than cheaters, it’s people who come from money, people who didn’t understand or couldn’t comprehend that they were playing life on easy mode. People who never had to suffer, because, to you, they never learned anything.

Sure, you had a hard life. Sure, your parents kicked you and Jungwon to the curb when the both of you refused to take over the family business. Sure, you worked hundreds or, more likely, thousands of hours just to make ends meet and take care of your brother while the two of you finished school. Sure, you wished you could have enjoyed your youth more instead of having to worry about money.

But instead, you had to pay the price for your freedom. Part of you still wonders if it was all worth it. If you should have stayed in your hometown. If you should have just went along with the arranged marriage your parents were proposing with someone you didn’t even know instead of running away with your ex and dragging Jungwon to hell with you.

Okay, maybe it really pisses you off.

“Ooh, rich boy,” you deadpan, your long nails preventing you from balling your hands into fists. You deny him the pleasure of seeing you roll your eyes back into your head. “Daddy must have spent a lot on you.”

“That’s not very welcoming to say,” he shoots back, although his voice is just as flat, his eyes narrowed at you.

You pout mockingly at him. “I’m just teasing our newest member—don’t worry, silver spoon. It’ll be over for you sooner if you decide to quit while you’re ahead.”

“You scared you won’t be the best racer on the team anymore or something, princess?”

“Just wait for me to get off probation and I’ll make you eat my brake dust, Daddy’s Money.”

“You’re already calling me daddy, even though we just met? Because it was my money that bought the car, for the record.”

You’re a little embarrassed and also slightly turned on, neither of which you would ever admit to even Jaeyun, and he knows you just about as well as he knows every single Fortnite map. “Tell someone who cares.”

The back-and-forth between the two of you is thankfully cut short as everyone hears the roar of a particular engine, marking the arrival of Enigma’s leader. You could just kiss him for his impeccable timing—if it weren’t for the fact that neither of you saw each other that way. You reckon both of you would rather eat a jean jacket than get more intimate than the platonic skinship that marks your friendship with him and the other Enigma boys.

People move aside as he puts the metallic, slime green Lamborghini Huracan in reverse and backs up into the parking spot next to you. The ostentatious exotic car belonging to Jay was gifted to him by one of his first clients, a filthy rich businessman who respected and admired Jay’s hard work and dedication to his job despite Jay being a corporate grunt in those days. During this period in your lives, Jay never once showed up late to a meeting with Mr. Big—even when his old Mitsubishi Lancer finally gave up on him after years of being pushed to its limit, even if it meant he had to wake up at three in the morning to start walking from his old apartment in Ahyeon-dong to Gangnam to make the scheduled 6 AM meetings—since the subways unfortunately didn’t operate until 5:30.

After Old Moneybags found out about Jay’s struggle, it was safe to say your best friend wasn’t on hard times for very long after that.

“Jay!” you call out, playing up your role as the only girl in Enigma just to assert dominance over the racer groupies in attendance tonight. You haven’t seen him since the last race, on account of the both of you being too busy with your work schedules to hang out properly. You immediately nudge past everyone—including Sunghoon, who you intentionally brush up against, your ass against his leg—to be the first to greet him.

“Hey, sweets, missed you,” he says, pulling you into a hug. “You doing okay?”

“Yeah, been just fine. You know me, I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself,” you assure him with a smile. He pinches your cheek. “What about you?”

“Oh, same shit, different day. Hoping I finally clutch this huge promotion at work. Head of an entire department,” he answers, protective hand on your waist as he guides you back to the rest of the Enigma boys. Along the way, he daps up some of the other racers who say hi to him, before giving Sunghoon, Jungwon, and Riki a dap and that weird side hug that guys who are close friends do. “Have you met Sunghoon yet?”

“Yeah, I have.” Your lips form into a slight pout, even though you know everyone but Riki is immune to your occasional petulance. “No one told me we were getting a new member. I thought we agreed to vote if it ever happened again? And… I thought it was never going to happen again?”

“You weren’t answering your phone when we voted, so Riki and Wonie took your vote,” Jaeyun snickers, shaking Jay’s hand and giving him the one-armed, “definitely not gay, bro” hug. “Think you had the group chat muted again.”

“Well, that was for good reason,” you argue crossly. While you loved your boys, that didn’t stop them from getting on your nerves at least once a day. “I was mad at you guys for not wanting to go get milk tea with me. And then you got it without me, clearly.”

“Didn’t we bring you some that night, though?” Jay retorts, ever the level-headed one when his temper wasn’t getting the best of him.

“Yeah… but I wanted to come! We live in the same building, for fuck’s sake!”

“It was a boys’ night, silly. Are you a boy?” Jaeyun pats your head and you swat his hand away, grumbling under your breath at him to not to touch you and to fuck off.

Your attention veers to Jungwon as he turns to Sunghoon, who’s standing with his arms crossed, watching you bicker with the boys from a distance. “Don’t mind her, she’s always like this. You ready to race?”

“Always like what, Yang Jungwon?” you ask mirthlessly, hands on your hips.

“A brat!” Jaeyun and Jay answer on his behalf, tugging you away so as to allow the racers on tonight’s card to drive up to the starting line, and everyone else can get behind them.

That’s how your scene’s races have worked since you were tasked with changing the rules two years ago; two drivers from each team participating would race, while the others would drive behind them as pace cars. They would also be ready to distract the police at a moment’s notice and keep the roads clear of civillians. It was as ethical as you could make it, and, honestly, it worked and kept everyone safe.

On this night, you’ve been roped into Jaeyun’s metallic blue Mustang Shelby GT500, with glimmering white racing stripes you added on yourself, huffing and muttering to yourself about how the boys were being “mean” to you in front of Sunghoon to try and impress him. Jay has gone ahead to wait at the finish line. He’d refused—again—to not “put the Huracan anywhere near any of these morons with driver’s licenses,” and so he’s there to note down the order in which the racers arrive, armed with several precisely-calibrated stopwatches.

You yourself have refused to ride with any other driver even though many of them offered to bring you along as their “passenger princess”. You will only ever ride with one of your boys. Riki is in his blacked out R35 Nissan GT-R, the other seats occupied with the life-sized plastic skeletons that he “borrowed” from his school’s anatomy lab. He’s cruising beside Jungwon, and behind you and Jaeyun; Sunghoon is in his own car beside you two.

“How’d you even meet that guy, anyways?” you groan to your best friend, trying to shield your eyes with the way Riki’s obnoxiously bright, blue underglow on his car is blinding you in your side mirror. Your hand dangles out of the open window, fingertips tapping idly on the outside of the door. “He’s so unfriendly.”

“Actually, he’s pretty cool when you get to know him. Riki and I met him at the gym a few weeks ago. He asked if one of us could spot him on the bench press—for three plates, that’s fucking sick! But, uh, yeah. We started working out together after that.”

You scoff. “Oh, great. Another meathead like you two.”

“Y/N, that’s not nice,” Jaeyun chides, glancing at you with the same affection of an older brother, even though you’re both 24 years old. “You’re not being very nice tonight.”

“Well, neither is he. He’s just some spoiled little rich boy who thinks he’s better than everyone.”

“Um… so am I, honestly… and so is Riki, honestly, but you don’t say anything about that, do you?”

You begin to reply, but you frown as Sunghoon speeds past the two of you in his pearly black BMW M8 Competition, the exhaust pipes screaming bloody murder, heading for the starting line just a hundred feet ahead. “Did he hear me say that about him?”

“Most likely.”

“Fuck.”

Part of you wants to apologize; maybe you’re being a little harsh on him, maybe you’re projecting your feelings towards this guy just because he reminds you of a certain someone, maybe you need to finally come to terms with what you’ve been denying for all these years.

Jaeyun pulls up to his spot behind the racers, right between Riki’s GT-R and Jungwon’s 350Z. You signal to the Nissan Boys, as you affectionately call your little brothers, to put their seatbelts on. They both pretend to sigh begrudgingly as they buckle themselves in.

The race girl is your good friend, Aeri, who every guy in your racing division is also obsessed with. Between the two of you, you think that she’s the truly adored one, because she is still as sweet as the day you met her—and you have an inclination to terrorize anyone of the opposite sex who rubs you the wrong way (due to your past). You can’t help it though, and, surprisingly, none of the boys who fall at your feet fault you for it.

But no one ever seemed to feel the need to prove you wrong, either, and that was your problem with them.

Aeri stands in between the middle two drivers, reaching under her top to unclip her bra. You take this as your cue to pull out the megaphone from where it sits waiting at your feet. Leaning out of the window, you announce, “First one to the base of Namsan Mountain wins! I expect a clean race, no funny business. Take no shit, but do no harm!”

“Isn’t that backwards?” Jaeyun whispers to you. You wave him off. He’s right, but you’re trying to emphasize your point about not dragging any innocent people into the racers’ mess.

You continue.“Tonight’s winner will receive the cash prize from me, personally, at a later time. Are we clear?”

A chorus of revved engines gives you your answer. “Alright. Aeri, count us down?”

She nods, pulling out her bra from her top and holding it up in the air. “‘Kay! You guys will go on 1! Ready? 3… 2… 1!” At the final number, she lets the hot pink satin garment drop to the ground, and everyone guns it, driving off in a flurry of exhaust smoke and burnt rubber.

“How much was the buy-in tonight, sweetie?” Jaeyun asks, using his own form of the sugar-derived nickname for you.

“Five million won apiece,” you answer. You scroll through Yun’s phone and play a song on his obnoxiously overpriced sound system. You’ve been joking to your friends that you’re in your “girl Future” era, citing your borderline toxic behavior towards the other racers who constantly slide in your DMs as proof that you’re literally the female version of the rapper. It doesn’t help that your coworker, Minjeong (who is also your self-appointed “work wife”), encourages you to torment men.

“‘I Serve the Base’? Really?” he snorts, leaning back in his seat. “You’re in a mood tonight, huh?”

“I dunno, it just fits the vibe,” you shrug. “Just quit yapping and drive, please.”

“Like I said, a mood.”

You sigh and physically turn away from him like a petulant girlfriend would—knees pointing towards the door and all—and stare out of the passenger window at the cars in front of you. You watch as Wonbin and Hyunjin duke it out on the road, trying to put each other in last place. The way they’re maneuvering their cars makes you a little uncomfortable, but also annoyed that they clearly didn’t listen to a word you said not two minutes ago. “Yunie, flash your high beams at them.”

“Say please.”

You look at him in confusion. Where’d he learn to say that?

“Sorry, Sunghoon does that to Riki and Jungwonie all the time.”

Yikes. Part of you hopes he doesn’t do it to girls, too… but you wouldn’t mind it if he were to do it to you. It’s high time someone really makes an effort to put you in your place, honestly. You reach behind you, to the back seat and grab the laptop you took from Riki, opening it up and typing furiously.

“What are you doing?”

“Accessing the street cameras,” you answer like it’s obvious. Being nefariously good at using the Internet was a perk that came with hanging out with your brother way too much. “I want to see what’s going on.”

“Well? Give me the rundown, then.”

“Jungwonie is in third place, it looks like. He’s gapped Hyunjin in front of us by at least a kilometer… and he’s approaching San and Wooyoung real quick. But—fuck, wait.” You click through a bunch of tabs, scanning the screen faster than when you’re reading twenty-six text message screenshots that Aeri sent you to dissect. “I can’t find Sunghoon anywhere.”

“What? What do you mean you can’t find him? Did he get pulled over or something?” he asks, lowering the volume of his speakers using the button on his steering wheel, eyes still trained on the road in front of him. He flashes his lights again, this time at just Wonbin to pick up the pace, urging him to pass Riki—who now has his underglow set to a stealthy dark red—up ahead.

“No… just… wait, give me a sec… oh, holy fuck.” You click through the camera footage, rewinding it and slowing down the playback. “Oh, my God.”

“Jesus Christ, what is it? You can’t just cliffhanger me like that!”

“I can’t see him because his lights are off.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I think he has a mod on his car—you literally can’t see him unless he drives under a streetlight.”

“Wait, that’s what Riki imported for him?!”

“What the—oh shut the fuck up, it was me who imported that light system! That fucker said it was for a friend when I asked him why he was buying new bulbs, ‘cause I knew he just got those halo LEDs!” You take a deep breath before sticking your hand in the pocket of Jaeyun’s pants.

“Yo! I thought we agreed not to fuck in the car! And especially not while I’m driving—but I guess I shouldn’t turn down some road head…”

“God, shut up, you perv! I need to get your phone and call Sunghoon!” you cry out. “He needs to turn his lights on, what if he gets hit by someone?!”

Jaeyun laughs. He laughs. At your misery, or your panic, or at you. “So you do like him.”

“Shut the fuck up, seriously, Yun, I just don’t want anyone getting hurt. We’re already on thin ice with the cops as it is!”

“Shoutout San, though,” he chuckles, shifting gears so he can close the gap between him and Wonbin, who is starting to approach Hyunjin again.

Your friend Choi San, also a racer on the AZ team, is from a family of high-ranking Seoul Police Department officials; he’d gotten pretty much everyone off the hook more than once for various traffic violations. You keep a stash of mint chocolates in your purse for whenever he’s around—even if they remind you of your ex-best friend—as your way of thanking him for keeping everyone’s records clean. It also helps that he absolutely loves your attention.

“You’re so annoying, Sim Jaeyun. Let me call Sunghoon, seriously.”

“Dude, chill, look at the cams again. The gap between everyone is getting smaller.”

You check the laptop screen again, and he’s right. You see Jungwon overtake both San and Wooyoung, and while you’re still holding your breath in worry over your baby brother, another part of your heart soars with pride at how good he’s gotten. You’d like to think that he got his driving skills from you, even though it was your stupid prick of an ex-boyfriend who first put him behind the wheel of a car.

But when you look up, you notice that Jaeyun is distracted trying to change the song playing on his phone. And there’s a sharp turn coming up ahead. You feel sick, adrenaline immediately rushing through your bloodstream.

Instead of screaming nonsense, you slam the laptop shut, tossing it on the floor and practically crawling across the center console to grab the wheel with one hand and the e-brake with the other. You drive your knee into Jaeyun’s leg to floor the accelerator, and at the same time, you deploy the e-brake and turn the steering wheel hard. The car drifts around the turn with ease, thanks to him immediately springing into action, tossing his phone somewhere in the cupholders and countersteering as he shifts gears.

“Pay attention next time,” you mutter in annoyance, as if the two of you almost crashing was a slight inconvenience and nothing more.

“Sorry, Mommy,” he snorts, downshifting back to his cruising speed. You give him the middle finger as you watch the cars change formation in front of you. Hyunjin cuts off Wooyoung at the junction between two roads, and Wooyoung swerves in the opposite direction to avoid hitting San to his left. Wonbin approaches from behind San, flashing his lights, trying to get one of them to move over, but they both downshift, forcing Wonbin to brake, fall back, and move over to try and find another opening.

And then it happens.

You hear a distinct 8-liter engine roaring furiously somewhere in the vicinity, but you see nothing. You think for a second that it could be the sound of a police helicopter overhead, but you doubt it, not if San tipped off his family that there would be a race tonight, and he always does, because you remind him to do it. You think that he pretends to forget just so you’re forced to text him and he’ll have an excuse to talk to you, but you don’t really care because he’s sweet and always earns himself the best of your candy stash—although you’ll reluctantly admit that Sunghoon has been the first to get the candy that you carry for yourself.

Because you’re not allowed to smoke inside Jaeyun’s car, you unwrap another mango Hi-Chew and wonder if Sunghoon would taste like you if you kissed him. Sure, you don’t like him all that much so far, but he’s hot, so maybe you could just hook up with him and dip—

Oh, who are you kidding? You haven’t slept with anyone since your ex, even though everyone thinks otherwise. You’ve made out with San and Hyunjin a few times, much to the amusement of Jaeyun and Jay, but you never let it get past that. You just go home and use your vibrator to finish the job. Sex is too intimate, feels too much like baring your soul to someone else and you don’t want anyone to get too close like that any time soon.

Too close, too close, too close just like the sound of that engine, and it snaps you out of your thoughts. Sunghoon finally turns his lights on, and reveals his location for everyone to see. He’s at the front, way ahead of even Jungwon, who is currently trying to keep Hyunjin off his tail.

No one but Sunghoon ever had a chance to win.

The race ends before you can truly even register this fact, and everyone parks at the base of Namsan Mountain to congratulate the winner, who seems insanely put-off by all the attention.

“Jay,” you say, approaching the Huracan driver quietly, your shoes crunching the gravel beneath you.

He looks up from his phone at you, jawline illuminated by the screen. The way he slightly tilts his phone away from you signals that he’s texting Aeri. You laugh inwardly; he doesn’t know that you know about them secretly hooking up. “Mm?”

“What was Sunghoon’s time?” you ask. Your bottom lip is tucked under your teeth, and you don’t even realize how hard you’re biting down.

“Eight minutes, twenty three seconds.”

You gulp. Like actually, visibly gulp, as if you’re swallowing a hard-boiled egg whole like some cartoon character. “Oh. That’s—”

“Almost a whole minute faster than your record. He told me he took a detour somewhere at the halfway point.”

“He’s good,” you admit. “Just like—”

Jay interrupts you again, pocketing his phone. “Don’t say his name, sweets. They’re nothing alike.”

You turn to him, eyes searching for answers. He simply puts a hand on your shoulder before pulling you into the hug he knows you need right now. “It’s been two years,” you mutter into the fibers of his cashmere sweater, hoping that the knit is dense enough that it drowns out the sound of your voice. “Why do I still bring him up?”

“He was a big part of your life. And ours, too. It’s okay. You’re going to have to accept that none of it was your fault eventually.”

“And stop taking it out on anyone else that comes after him, huh?”

Jay pats you on the back. “Bingo.”

“Wait, no one ever gave me a real answer, but why do Jaeyun and Riki live together? And Jay and Jungwonie?” Sunghoon asks. He’s sitting across from you in the former pair’s living room, letting your younger brother lean against him as the alcohol takes over Jungwon’s weak tolerance.

You raise your glass like it’s an extension of your hand, leaning against the bottom of Jay’s leather couch where you sit beside him. “That was my idea, when I was moving out of my old apartment. I lived there with my ex, until I kicked him out. When my lease was ending, all of us decided to move to a new building—this one—and I figured that each of the two young ones should have a hyung to look after them. But also, I didn’t want anyone living with me.”

The last part leaves everyone silent, and you laugh, adding, “Why do you guys look surprised? I told you that when we were signing our leases.”

Sunghoon looks at Riki to his right, who is trying to make a soju bomb with more soju and less beer, and then across from Riki at Jaeyun, who is egging him on to just drink straight from the soju bottle, and back at Riki, who listens to the Australian intently, like he’s some sort of genius. “Are you sure that was a good idea?”

You wave him off. “Oh, yeah. They’re just off the clock right now. You know, can’t be serious all the time.” Oops, another dig at him.

Your phone chimes with notification after notification, and it’s not just updates from Candy Crush. It’s text messages, and not the good kind from Aeri or Soyeon telling you which racer they’ve gone home with tonight.

Before you can silence your phone, though, Jaeyun, who’s on your other side, picks up your phone, laughing exaggeratedly as he waves your glowing screen in the air. “Guys, look! I told you it was gonna happen!”

“What?” Sunghoon asks, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. You shake your head at him and mouth the words “don’t listen to him”.

But then Jay starts cackling, catching your phone over your head when Jaeyun throws it to him in order to read the messages out loud. You don’t even bother fighting their teasing anymore; in fact, you’re a little excited, because you know your boys are about to go in on whoever’s hitting you up. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here! From Wonbin: ‘it was nice seeing you tonight, do you want to hang out this week?’”

“Ewww, gross,” Jaeyun groans with a mouthful of fries. “He was literally trying to sit on the Supra when Y/N pulled up!”

His revelation is met with a chorus of laughs and jeers as your boys mock Wonbin for his transgression, for being so stupid and arrogant to think that you would have just given him a free pass. After all, that car is your baby. You suffered a lot for it, and not just anyone could come up and touch it. In fact, one time, Jungwon was banned from riding in your car for a month because he got his fingerprints on your side mirrors.

“Did San-hyung text noona?” Riki’s nosy ass asks, running up behind the couch and diving onto it to look over Jay’s shoulder. Jay pushes his head away. “Oh, shit, he did!”

Jungwon sighs, slumping further even against Sunghoon. “God, just read it and put me out of my misery. He’s so down bad for her, it’s disgusting.”

Jaeyun giggles, and kicks his sock-covered feet like a schoolgirl. “He’s probably gonna ask her on another date and make her bike along the Han River again.”

This makes you choke on your drink, and it almost comes out of your nose. “Hey, I thought we we agreed not to bring that up.”

“It’s not every day I open my Instagram and see your stupid ass fighting for your life getting hard-launched on his story,” he snorts. “Watching you trying to ride that bike gave me second-hand embarrassment.”

“Yeah, it’s like he didn’t even care that you looked stupid, he was really trying to let everyone know that he was out with you,” Jay adds. “Way to keep it lowkey, or whatever.” Your face burns hot with embarrassment as you realize that Yunie has taken out his own phone to pull up the screen recording of San’s Instagram story to show Sunghoon. Now you actually want to smack the phone out of his hand, but you figure it’s fine, you don’t care if he sees you like that. It shouldn’t matter, he’s just one of the guys now. He could join in the teasing for all you care.

Right?

“Yo, hold the fuck up, Y/N, I thought you and Hyunjin were done?” Jay says, scrolling through your notifications.

Your eyes flick up to Sunghoon, who is currently trying to busy himself with separating the perilla leaves—that no one has so much as breathed in the direction of tonight—as he seems to not pay attention to the video, or to what Jay is saying. Either that, or he really doesn’t find it funny. “Put it away, Yunie,” he says quietly, one hand gently pushing back Jaeyun’s phone towards him. “That’s too much. You’re embarrassing her.”

“I thought so, too,” you sigh at Jay, trying not to acknowledge the fact that Sunghoon may or may not have just stood up for you against your best friend. “He ignored my texts for, like, four days, and you guys know how much I absolutely hate that. I know I lag, too, but never that long. At least I’d tell you that I’m busy or whatever. Fuck’s sake.”

“What did Hyunjin hyung say?” Jungwon mumbles. He’s now using Sunghoon’s lap as a pillow, and the sight makes you feel a little soft. You love your younger brother to bits and pieces, and seeing him like this reminds you of the times he’d come home really tired from school and fall asleep at your dining table while you prepared dinner for the two of you. You often yearn for that period in your life, when things were much simpler and the only thing you were sad about was missing your family.

Now you have a new family, but another part of your heart is broken, and time hasn’t healed it—at least, not completely.

“He’s asking if she’s busy this week,” Riki answers. Part of you wants to drag him by the hair and put him on a one-way flight back to Japan. “Oh, Jay hyung is checking her calendar. Yikes, hyung… You’re still pushing that agenda?”

“What agenda?” Sunghoon pipes up after gulping down the last of his beer, his lips glossy from the liquor.

“Oh, he just thinks they’d be cute together,” the freakishly tall boy rambles, making a gesture out of Jay’s line of sight that signals to Sunghoon that Jay is crazy. The alcohol has made you basically nonverbal at this point, and you just let Riki explain your lore to the hot new member of your racing crew. Hopefully Sunghoon doesn’t remember any of it in the morning.“It’s kind of about time that noona gets a new boyfriend. Personally, though, me and Yunie-hyung are on Team San.”

“Isn’t that up to her though?” Sunghoon muses. “Like, why does it matter if she’s single or dating around?”

“Because she’s not that type of person who actually can do anything casual,” Jaeyun interjects, putting a hand over Riki’s mouth, only to pull away in disgust when Riki licks his palm. He wipes the drool off on Jay’s arm. “She just does it because she doesn’t want to get too close to anyone who isn’t us. So it’s a vicious cycle. She says she’s healing, but she can’t fully heal the part of her that was wounded because she needs to be in a relationship with someone who will be patient with her and prove her wrong. Someone who will help her finally get over… him.”

“I figured, from what you told me before,” Sunghoon says quietly to your supposed best friend. He’s not really being much of a best friend now, you think, even though everything he’s said is both correct and true.

This piques your interest. Your index finger circles around the rim of the open bottle of soju that you’d confiscated from Riki. “What do you know?”

“Ey, Hoon, watch what you say, I don’t want her throwing her drink at me!”

You roll your eyes and look back at Sunghoon. “Don’t listen to him. Tell me what Jaeyunie told you, and I’ll decide if I throw it at him or not.”

“Well—”

“Hey, sorry to interrupt,” Jay says, setting down his now-empty glass of beer with a smug, victorious grin. “Well, actually, I’m not, but I texted Hyunjin back and said you’d meet him at that new fancy Italian restaurant in Gangnam on Wednesday at 7. And before you say anything, yes, you’re free that day. I checked your calendar and your emails.”

You flaked on your date with Hyunjin. To teach him a lesson, of course.

But you do start seeing more and more of Park Sunghoon as the weeks pass, what with him being a full-fledged, initiated member of Enigma now. And you hate to admit it, but he’s starting to grow on you, even though you still think he’s kind of stoic—mostly towards you. You can tell he’s softening a bit, though.

Because, truth be told, you’ve also observed him to be honest and kind and genuine, the latter the rarest thing you see amongst the racers involved in your second life who throw themselves at you like moths to a flame. He’s sincere, but he also doesn’t mince his words, so you have no choice but to take them at face value. You like watching him get along with the other boys in your life, the only ones you truly love, the ones who have done nothing but love you like a family could and couldn’t.

Riki, for one, loves to pester Sunghoon when he’s around and makes you sit and keep score for them while they play table tennis in the game room of your apartment complex. They’re both extremely competitive, and you think to yourself that Sunghoon is such a good sport even when Riki’s elaborate, well-choreographed victory dance gets too annoying even for you to tolerate. You’re pretty sure he adds a new move every single time he does it.

They go to the gym on days where Riki’s done with class early enough to beat rush-hour, and they bring you along for dinner afterwards if you feel like coming. Riki’s now got a debt to pay to you, on account of you wrapping his GT-R in a metallic oil-slick color. You and Sunghoon chose it together, because no one else was replying to you in the group chat. Sunghoon even helped you install it, if helping you meant feeding you dumplings from a takeout container because your hands were full with the heat gun in one and a felt-edge squeegee in the other.

For an entire weekend, he sat in your garage with you quietly, making idle conversation when the white noise would get too much for even him. He asked you about yourself, and you told him about how you met Jake in third grade, when his family moved to your hometown all the way from Australia, and how you became friends with him only because you were the only one in your class who knew how to speak decent English. (You watched a lot of American TV shows on illegal streaming sites.) In turn, you asked him if he likes his job as an investment banker, and he tells you that he wanted to be an automotive engineer when he was younger, but every man in his family works in finance and expected him to do the same.

This admission prompts you to share that you were supposed to step up and run your family’s successful chain of restaurants, but you refused to do so, choosing instead to run away with your boyfriend at the time and follow him to Seoul for the two of you to go to college. Jungwon even came with you, and you let him. Sunghoon asks you if you regret it. You say no, because, really, you don’t. But you do still have trouble sometimes trying to understand why some of the people you loved the most in this life—your mother, your father, and later on, your boyfriend—did not care if you were happy.

They only really cared that you did as you were told.

And Jay, much to your amusement, happens to be at the butt of most of Sunghoon’s teasing—whenever he’s in his extroverted mood, that is. They bicker much like Tom and Jerry, but you can tell that they get along just fine deep down. After all, Sunghoon’s been helping Jay decorate his and Jungwon’s apartment, listening (more like tolerating, if anyone were to ask you) to Jay ramble on and on about Herman Miller chairs and Noguchi lamps, and no one else can be in the same room as him when he gets like that, and that’s saying something because your apartment is also decorated in the mid-century modern style.

Jungwon sometimes tags along with them to furniture showrooms, strictly on the condition that they treat him to a meal afterwards. Sunghoon, not so surprisingly, is always the one who invites you along with them as well, ever since that first night when you complained about the boys getting milk tea without you. You wonder if it’s a pity invite, but you don’t really care much if it is, because he doesn’t seem like the type who does things he doesn’t want to do.

There was this one time two weeks ago that you came along with them to go pick out a new rug—first mistake. Your second mistake was forgetting to eat before leaving your apartment. You sat on a chair clutching your stomach with one hand, scrolling through your phone looking at the drink menus of nearby cafes with the other. Little did you know that Sunghoon, who was standing right beside you, was nosily peeking over your shoulder while also on his phone, typing in the names of whatever menu item you would pause on.

He disappeared for a few minutes after telling you he forgot something in his car. This left you to decompose in your (very cushy) chair while you listened to Jay and Jungwon argue about low-pile versus high-pile rugs. You contemplated how long it would take for them to notice that you’d passed out from hypoglycemia. But then Sunghoon returned, holding a bag from the food delivery app you all like to use. He’d nonchalantly and wordlessly taken out a peach iced tea and a sandwich to hand to you, but you looked up at him like he was God coming down to earth to save you. You thanked him profusely and he actually smiled at you, eyes crinkling up at the corners and turning into pretty crescent moon shapes.

If you didn’t already know that Jaeyun loves women, you’d think that he has a crush on Sunghoon. You seem to have lost your pet best friend to his new pet rich boy. Jaeyun loves to spend time with Sunghoon, even though he’s not at all very talkative. Regardless, every single time you come over to Yun’s apartment, Sunghoon is either already there or five or ten minutes away, depending on the day of the week and the time at which your best friend invites you over to his and Riki’s apartment.

Then the three of you, with the occasional addition of any or all of the three other Enigma boys, will inevitably order some takeout delivery and watch a film—”Not a movie,” you insist—until you inevitably start crying at the plot and say you have to go home before the boys really start making fun of you. Sunghoon always walks you to your door, even though you live just down the hall. You always tell him he doesn’t have to, but he always brushes you off and tells you to get your things so you can leave.

And one time, about a week ago, you heard him scold the other guys for being mean to you, reminding them that even though you’re technically one of the boys, you’re still a girl at heart, and they should make some effort to be nicer to you. You heard him really dig in to Jungwon in particular, and while you kind of felt the urge to come back into the room and defend him, Sunghoon told your brother to show some respect and think about all the things you’d done for him in the past seven years. So you stayed back, still in shock that Sunghoon had spoken up for you so vehemently.

Speaking of your younger brother, your precious baby all grown up, the only family you have left: Jungwon adores Sunghoon, viewing him as the older brother you wished you could have been for him. Yes, Jay and Jaeyun are literally right there, but you can tell that the connection between Jungwon and Sunghoon is different. Jaeyun is good for keeping both Jungwon and Riki out of your hair when you’re busy, and Jay indulges your brother, spoiling him every chance he can get, having no siblings of his own.

Somehow Sunghoon has gotten through to your brother in terms of his life and his career; after all, he’s close to finishing college soon and doesn’t know what he wants to do just yet. You would kill for a chance to help Jungwon, but you reckon he hasn’t come to you because he doesn't want to add to your stress and you could cry at how considerate he can be when he isn’t teasing you. You promise yourself that one of these days you’ll thank Sunghoon for his help, maybe some time after you finally admit to yourself that you were wrong about him being a prick. And maybe you’ll apologize for making assumptions about him in the first place.

Yes, you’ve been observing the way Sunghoon gets along with everyone, and you’re happy, you really are, but something is gnawing at you. While the arrival of new racers in your scene is nothing new, Enigma itself hasn’t been disrupted since Jungwon met Riki and all of that other shit went down.

More importantly, you haven't been disrupted for so long. Two years, to be exact. It’s been two years since you got your heart broken twice, and you’ve spent so long holding everyone at arm’s length away from you because you’re not too keen on ever experiencing that again. Sure, you date around, but like Jaeyun said, they don’t mean anything to you. You know what they want and it’s what you refuse to give them. And then this guy, this fucking guy with pretty brown eyes who is soft-spoken and quiet and has the most beautiful face you’ve ever seen in real life… this fucking guy comes in with the audacity to make you feel like he simultaneously likes you and wants nothing to do with you.

Although you think the latter is just a defense mechanism on your part. You’d tried to convince yourself that he only cares about you so that the boys don’t kick him out of Enigma, because if the two of you didn’t get along, there would be no way he could stay on the team. After all, you’re still their best racer, and more importantly, their best friend. But that can’t be all true, because you fight with the boys sometimes, sometimes real petty fights that end in everyone crying, and you’re still an Enigma member through and through. So telling yourself that Sunghoon secretly hates you because of your ways is a lie on your part.

Because right now, about three months after you’ve first met, when you’re at the club with the boys, there’s no way Sunghoon truly doesn’t like you. The rational part of your brain can recognize that; after all, you’ve watched him countless times coldly brush off the advances of random girls in public who see his credit card and try to take advantage of his generosity.

And you saw with your own two eyes the way he looked at you when you’d asked him if what you were wearing (a white mesh mini dress with baby pink kitten heels) was actually “too much,” and if you should go change like the others had said. You heard with your own two ears when he told you, “It is a bit much, but you look good. If there’s any trouble, don’t worry, I got you.”

It’s a good thing your face was already pink from the makeup you’d dolled yourself up with.

You never have to pay for drinks when you go out. The boys know this. You always tell them to not waste their hard-earned money—or in Jungwon’s case, your hard-earned money—on you when you can get some rich loser to buy you a bottle of Clase Azul if you bat your eyelashes at them and say you want to ring the bell.

Tonight is different, though. Usually you can score some of the top shelf shit without so much as lifting a finger, but because Sunghoon went with you to the bar, you can sense that the men in the club are not willing to put your dirty Shirley Temple on their tab. He doesn’t even have his hand around your waist, but you assume it’s the malevolent energy radiating off him in waves of expensive cologne that have people socially distancing from you like you’ve got the plague.

“Something wrong, Hoon?” you ask him innocently, swapping cocktails with him as you’ve often found yourself doing whenever the two of you are out together. It’s been a running occurrence since you’ve started joining him and the boys on their hangouts. He’ll order whatever you want to try, be it pasta or a coffee, and you can order something else you like. You sip on his Jack and Coke before making a face and taking your tequila sunrise from him.

“Do you want to wear my jacket?” he says, leaning in close so that you can hear him over the thrum of the bass-boosted music. “These creeps are staring at you too hard. It’s freaking me out. Pissing me off, really.”

You shrug. The buzz is starting to really hit you, thanks to your pregaming session at Jaeyun’s before you left for the club. “Doesn’t bother me, I’m used to it. It’s not like any of them have a chance.” You reach over and brush off invisible lint off Sunghoon’s shoulder, lingering a little longer just to feel the hard muscles underneath his clothes. “You do, though.”

He looks at you with his lips pursed in a flat line, a look he often gives Jay when Jay won’t stop pestering him. Then he takes his jacket off and drapes it over you. “Just put this on. I’ll be right back, I have to take a call.” He shows you the glowing screen of his phone, and you can read the contact name. It’s one of his bosses, and you only know this from the time he invited you to have dinner with them (and they’d pestered Sunghoon into bringing a date, since all of them are married).

You nod in understanding and nestle yourself snugly in his leather jacket, the same black-blue-white combination that he’d worn the night you first met. Idly, you sip on your drink, watching the crowd of swaying bodies underneath the colored strobe lights. In the distance, you can spot Jaeyun’s freshly bleached head of wavy hair next to Jay and Wonie, and that’s only thanks to Riki’s freakishly tall frame standing out like a cell phone tower beside them. They’re dancing with a group of girls, and you try not to gag when you see your younger brother let a girl grind up against him.

“Hey, why don’t you take this off? It’s hot enough in here because of you,” someone yells out right beside you, trying to make himself heard over the music. You turn to him, already pissed off because who the fuck says that?

“No thanks,” you say flatly. “I’m good.”

Even if you are feeling a bit hot inside the packed club, there’s something in you that wants to respect Sunghoon’s wishes while he’s gone, because you know behind his cold exterior he means well and it’s his own roundabout way of looking out for you. Either that, or he’s possessive, your delusional brain thinks, catching a whiff of his cologne in the lining of it.

“Well—”

You’re not paying attention to the douchebag beside you. You look back to the crowd and your boys have disappeared, no giant, Oreo-haired Riki to mark where they are. Suddenly, your tequila sunrise threatens to show itself in your throat. You’ve been hit on before, of course, but not like this, not this insistently. You keep your poker face on, trying to figure out how to get away from him but also avoid getting sucked in and trampled on in the giant crowd that just seems to keep doubling in size.

“Is he bothering you, sweetheart?” another voice asks.

You look to your side and he’s there, he’s back, stone-faced and radiating what you would call actual bloodlust. You nod, giving him a look that you hope Sunghoon interprets as get him the fuck away from me.

“You heard her. You’re bothering the lady,” Sunghoon says flatly to the man beside you, in such a manner that leaves no room for argument. “And not just any lady, either. That’s my girl you’re bothering. Get lost.”

You yourself shiver at his tone. You’ve gotten used to seeing the icy but gentle side of him, so this shift startles you, making goosebumps raise on your back in fear and your core clench in need. You decide not to correct Sunghoon, either. The sooner you get out of this bust of a club, the better.

An hour later, you find yourself at one of your favorite restaurants, a little barbecue spot near your apartment building that serves the best marinated galbi you’ve ever had. You’ve taken the boys there countless times, enough for them to make a joke out of it. The place is supposed to be closed right now, on account of it being one-thirty in the morning but when you were in the taxi with Jay and Sunghoon, you overheard the latter on the phone, telling the other person on the line that he’d pay triple to have the place opened for three hours past closing time of midnight.

While Jungwon talks animatedly about the girl in his class who was at the club and how he somehow managed to get her number, Sunghoon serves you before everyone else, putting the strips of grilled meat on your plate. The other boys groan at him, telling him not to indulge you too much or you’ll get used to it and always expect it, just like you’ve done to them. They don’t really mean it, because you know them well enough that they—just like Sunghoon—don’t ever really do things they don’t want to do, but deep down you still hope he doesn’t take their words seriously.

“What’s so bad about that? Ladies first,” is all he replies to them, and you feel warm inside and it’s not just the double shot of peach soju making its way through your body.

“Okay, me next,” Jaeyun says. He’s still got sweat dripping down his forehead from chasing tequila-drunk Riki and Jungwon down and dragging them both by the collars of their shirts into another taxi.

Sunghoon looks at him before passing the tongs to him. “Do it yourself.”

“Jackass.”

This makes your smile widen, giggling to yourself uncontrollably. You take delight in messing with Jaeyun, and seeing the always-stone-faced Sunghoon take part in it brings a certain joy to you that’s both unfamiliar and welcomed. You catch his eye and he sends you a wink, so fast you wouldn’t have caught it if you didn’t have the habit of staring at him when you think he isn’t paying attention to you.

“Dickhead,” Sunghoon shoots back, bushy brows furrowed so cutely that you have the tipsy urge to kiss the peachy skin between them.

“Oh, well, at least if I liked a girl, I’d tell her, so I think that makes you the dickhead and not me.” Jaeyun rolls his eyes and takes a piece of meat out of your bowl, popping it into his mouth and seemingly swallowing it whole.

You frown. “What? Sunghoon likes someone? Is it Jimin? It’s Jimin, isn’t it?”

Jungwon and Riki groan. “Great, another idiot.”

Jay points his chopsticks at your younger brothers. “Shut up and eat your food already.”

“Yes, mother,” they say in unison, digging into their bowls of kimchi fried rice. You look down at your own plate, suddenly losing your appetite. You even consider going outside for a smoke break, but that’s how the boys disappeared at the club a while ago, and it’s too late for you to be going outside alone—at least, that’s what you’re very well aware that they’d argue. Your stomach hurts at the thought of Sunghoon liking another girl, and because you’re you, because you’re almost so self-aware to the point that it could put your therapist out of a job, you know it’s because you want him to like you, and only you.

And it’s not even because you want the same control over him that you have over the likes of San and Hyunjin and Wonbin and whoever else claims to be on your sad excuse of a “roster”. It’s because you like him, and it’s to the point that the only other being who knows this for a fact is your pet cat, because only she wouldn’t accidentally tell him the truth. She’s a cat, for fuck’s sake, a cat you unfortunately named after the girl you think Sunghoon might like.

Maybe the boys have noticed. But you doubt it, because if they did, they would have teased you so mercilessly about it that it would be considered bullying that could be punishable under law. It would be so severe that you’d have no choice but to leave the country if they knew.

What they actually do though, that you’ve picked up on in recent weeks, is their new nasty habit of dropping hints about how you should be with a guy who’s cold to everyone but you. Someone who’s both pragmatic yet thoughtful, someone who always tells the truth but can do so in a way that will spare your feelings because he makes an honest effort to not sound so harsh. Someone who can both protect you and yet also be able to get you to stop when you become… “irrational” was how they put it. Someone you’re attracted to, not just physically, but emotionally, as well.

You’re not stupid, no matter how often you think you are. You know they’re talking about Sunghoon. You know Jungwon and Riki will make plans with you and him and then flake at the last minute so that you two are forced to go out together, alone. They’ve done it enough times that you know it’s bullshit that they have a school assignment due at some random time in the evening. You know Jaeyun will loudly ask Sunghoon what he thinks of a certain girl when he knows you’re within earshot. It pleases you every time Sunghoon flatly replies “What about her? I don’t know her like that.”

And you most definitely know Jay let Sunghoon take you on out to the racetrack to drive his Lamborghini for a few laps, under the guise that you’ve always wanted to go and Jay finally managed to get a slot booked on a day that he “isn’t able to make it” because of a “meeting”. Who the fuck even works on a Sunday?

You fixate on this memory for a while. You can truthfully say it was one of the happiest days of your life.

“You’re telling me you’ve never used paddle shifters before?” Sunghoon asked with a lopsided grin, pulling into the paddock of the race track. Your leg bounces in your seat, not out of anxiety like usual, but out of impatience and excitement.

“I drive stick, why the hell would I use paddle shifters? Sorry not all of us drive M Comps,” you retort, rolling your eyes. “V8 bi-turbo headass. Can’t believe you run an automatic transmission.”

“I’m ignoring that. I’ll track it first.”

“What? No way, I’ve known Jay longer!”

“You’re going to drive it like it’s a city bus. I’m going to drive it like I stole it. You can sit there and look pretty first, then you can have a turn.”

“Sunghoon, if you’re just going to stare at me, you’re going to crash us into a wall.”

“Nah, my peripheral vision’s pretty good. Why, you don’t trust me?”

You sighed. You do trust him, that’s what bothers you.

Ultimately, the idea of Sunghoon liking another girl makes you a little… irritated. That’s actually a gross understatement, if you’re being honest. You can feel the dragon’s head of your jealous streak rise up from the ashes where it had once laid dormant, asleep. It wants to breathe fire. It wants to get a rise out of him. It wants to see his reaction.

Luckily, or unluckily, depending on whose side you’re on, your best friend knows you too well.

“Y/N, can you pass the salt?” Jaeyun, who is sitting to your left, asks. The salt pot is right next to Riki, who is sitting to your right.

Taking this as your opportunity, you look at him, tilting your head before you say the exact line that, by now, everyone knows that Sunghoon likes to use. “Say please.”

Jaeyun is too intoxicated to fight back, but he knows you well enough even in his inebriated state that he knows exactly what you’re doing. “Please?”

“Okay,” you answer, reaching across Riki’s plate to grab the salt. When you hand it to Jaeyun, his fingers linger on yours way too long to be respectable. There’s nothing there, of course. It just feels normal, no spark, no giddy, lovesick warmth. He’s just being outright obvious.

Picking up on your scheme, Jay chimes in, a malicious glint in his eye that only comes out after you can smell the alcohol on his breath. You see him elbow Jungwon at the end of the table—quite subtly, to his credit. “Ew, what are you two doing? That’s gross, get a room.”

Jaeyun rolls his eyes, giving Jay the middle finger. Oh, he’s playing up the dramatics of your ploy to see if Sunghoon cares or not. This is what being friends with him for pretty much your entire life is all about. “Can’t a guy and a girl be best friends? Chill, bro.”

“Guys and girls can’t just be best friends,” Jungwon adds, his mouth full of rice and barbecue. “That’s such a lie. You don’t see me with a girl best friend, because if I had one, I’d be fu—”

Sunghoon’s knee hits the bottom of the table, causing everyone to jump back in surprise. “Sorry, guys.” He looks at you, staring at him wide-eyed. “And lady. Leg cramp.” He gets up from the table and excuses himself to go pay the bill, talking with the older woman who runs the restaurant and who you know is madly in love with him (much to everyone’s amusement).

“Alright, what’s going on here?” Jay asks in a hushed tone, dropping his smirk and leaning forward. “What are we doing to him?”

“Forcing Sunghoon to confess,” Jaeyun answers back, switching to English so only the three of you can understand.

You look at him quizzically, but you speak to him and Jay in English anyways. “Wait, what? I just wanted to make him jealous, what are you talking about—”

“Alright!” Sunghoon says loudly from behind you. “Time to go.”

Exchanging looks with your best friends, you collect your things from where they rest on the worn leather seats of the booth. “I’m gonna take a walk first,” you say. “Anyone wanna join?”

“Nah,” Jaeyun answers. “I’m beat. Gonna take the little ones home.”

“Whoooo the fuck are y-you… callin’ little,” Riki slurs, slumped over a sleepy Jungwon’s shoulder. You know your brother is in a food-and-alcohol-induced coma, since he says nothing about the drool Riki’s getting all over his unbuttoned shirt. “Fuckin’ Oompa Loompa.”

“Riks,” you sigh, getting up on your tip-toes to push his sweat-soaked hair from his face. “Be nice to your Yunie hyung.”

“S-sorry noona,” he hiccups, putting more of his weight on Jungwon, who yelps. “I’ll be nice.”

You shoot Jaeyun a warning look, telling him not to egg on the poor boy who looks like he might throw up in his sleep later. “You guys gonna be okay going home?”

“Yeah, bro, it’s only like a block away,” Jay interjects, prying Riki off of Jungwon and hoisting him onto his own back. Jaeyun takes your brother in his hold, grimacing at the skin-to-skin contact of Jungwon’s bare chest on his fingers. “Go take your little walk. Text us when you’re back.”

“Yes, mother, I promise.” You can feel Sunghoon looming over you like a skyscraper. Without turning to him, you ask, “Are you coming with me?”

“Well,” he answers, his huffed breath blowing over your head in cigarette smoke. “Obviously. I’m not letting you go alone.”

“Okay, I guess,” you mutter with the same tone, shivering to yourself. The air is surprisingly cold for the beginning of June, and you’re dejectedly starting to regret your outfit.

And of course, like clockwork, Park Sunghoon notices your discomfort and quietly puts his jacket over you for the second time that night.

“Thank you.” Your voice comes out in a whisper. He acknowledges you with a soft hum, matching your stride as you cross the empty road to the little park nestled behind the flowering trees.

You continue to walk, trying to think, but it’s difficult to burn off the rest of the alcohol and gain some clarity when the man you’re thinking about is right beside you. You would kill to read his mind. You could just ask him, straight up. It shouldn’t be too hard, right? What’s the worst thing he could say? That he doesn’t have feelings for you? That he sees you as a sister? That he actually does like Jimin like that?

Fuck.

You finally admit to yourself that you do like him. You do like him, you do want him, you do feel those things genuinely and not out of greed, not out of wanting to make him one of your trained dogs, not out of wanting to punish your ex through him.

You… you fucking like him, and it pisses you off. Him, of all people. Liking Jaeyun seems less complicated than this. You know for a fact that Sunghoon is quite possibly the king of hard-to-get. Kazuha and Yunjin, the race girls from AZ, both made a move on him and ended up fighting over him for nothing (which your own girlfriends clowned on them mercilessly for, while you sat back and watched rather smugly). He didn’t even give them the time of day, let alone his phone number.

Minjeong, your beloved work wife, wanted to test that theory and when you’d left them during dinner one time to go use the restroom, she tried to flirt with him. She ended up meeting you in the restroom with a smirk, telling you that he’s impossible to break. She’d even asked you if you considered the fact that maybe he likes men.

Intrigued, you’d “innocently” asked Jaeyun and Riki, of all people, to get you the answer. Eager to please, and glad that they had some new bullshit to do, they came back to you after three hours of pestering Sunghoon at the gym during their workout. They’d reported that they annoyed him so bad he left them at the gym, forcing them to take the train back home.

That night, he texted the group chat “Not gay. Waiting for my wife” and nothing else.

A big shock to the rest of you, to say the least. The boys were busy laughing at the first sentence, while you were fixated on the latter half of his text. His wife. What a strong choice of words, you’d thought. But it was a good thing, too, that he knows what he wants. At least one of you does. A wife. That’s more definite than just wishing to feel safe and secure around other people.

“Did you eat well?” Sunghoon pipes up, finally breaking the chilly silence between the two of you.

“I did,” you reply curtly, now doing your best to match his pace. It’s hard. His legs are so long, with equally long strides, but you push yourself in your heels anyways. “Did you?”

“Yeah. Why do you always flirt back?” Sunghoon asks. He sounds like he’s been holding that in for a while.

“What? Are you talking about Jaeyunie?”

He grimaces. “No. I know that was just him being him. I’m talking about the others. That Wonbin guy. San hyung. Hyunjin hyung. Whoever the fuck. Them.”

You stop walking, and so does he. He turns around to face you as you incredulously ask, “So suddenly? Why? Does it matter?”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes at you. That’s the first time you’ve ever elicited that reaction from him, and it hurts a little. “Yeah, it does. You’re making them think they have a chance with you.”

“Okay, so what?” you say harshly. Really, why does it matter to him? He likes Jimin, doesn’t he? Why is what you do any of his business?

“Well, do they?”

“No!” you snap, hands on your hips. The sound of your voice, echoing through the deserted metal playground, startles the both of you. “None of it is ever serious with them! Men are dogs, anyways!”

“Meow.”

You look at the tall man in disbelief. Under the glow of the lampposts, he looks both sinful and heavenly. Even if he’s pissing you off like never before. Blinking—too shocked to laugh—you ask, “Did you just meow at me, Park Sunghoon?”

“Yeah. Because I’m not a dog, and I’ll prove it to you,” he answers, thick arms crossed over his broad, sturdy chest.

“Why bother doing that? Why does my opinion of you matter to you? It’s none of your business what I think. So why?”

He scoffs. But he can’t seem to meet your eyes. “You’re a smart girl. You’ll figure it out.”

Oh, you’re so annoyed. Why now, of all times, can he not be direct with you? Or is this how he actually is? Has he been pretending to be genuine this whole time? No, that can’t be. People usually can’t keep a facade up for that long without slipping up in between, unless they're sociopaths, serial killers, or both. “No, tell me why. I want to hear it from you. You and your stupid… your stupid… stupid, pretty mouth.”

“Did you just call my mouth pretty?”

“Answer the question, Park Sunghoon!”

He glares at you, but it’s not menacing. After what seems like hours, he sighs, turning away. Then he quietly says, “I love the way you love.”

You realize now that the entire time you’ve been watching Sunghoon, he’s been watching you, too.

“What… what do you mean?”

“The way you care about them. The others… The way you look out for them. For Jungwonie and Riki, always making sure they’ve eaten and they rest enough for school, and that they’re on top of their studies. Jay, you always scold him for working too much. And Jaeyunie, you get worried when he’s not home by a certain time… I realize now that you might not have space in your heart for me. And I should accept that no matter what I do, I’ll always just be another one of your dogs.”

“Sunghoon, what—”

He shakes his head, which hangs low in something you think must be shame. His bangs cover his eyes, so you can’t get a read on him unless you brush them out of his face. And with what he’s just said, you don’t think that now is the best time to touch him. “No. We’re not going to talk about this tonight. Or ever again. I can promise you that. Now come on. I’ll walk you home and we can pretend like this never happened.”

Back in your apartment, you lay in bed, wishing that there was still enough alcohol in your system to put your restless mind to sleep. But there isn’t, not after you walked it all off with an awkwardly silent Sunghoon escorting you back to your apartment. You’d offered your couch for him to sleep on—not out of pity, you’d told him. Out of worry. The trains had stopped running and there were no taxis coming to your side of town anytime soon.

He looked like he really wanted to stay. But for whatever reason, he shook his head at you again, told you it was okay, and said he’d walk home.

You’d texted him to keep you updated on where he was. He didn’t reply. You just got a single notification that “Park Sunghoon has started sharing locations with you,” and that was that. No actual message from him. You share yours right back, telling yourself that it’s fine, all the other Enigma boys had your location, too. But you know the truth.

Sitting up, you reach for your phone and your purse, fishing out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter, both of which you’d stolen from Jaeyun. He would steal them back from you very soon, anyways, what with him sharing one singular, pitiful peach blueberry ice-flavored vape between himself, Jungwon, and Riki.

Your cat follows you curiously as you walk into the living room and slide the glass door to the balcony open. She curls up in your lap when you sit down on the rocking chair, just as she always does when you come out to smoke.

“You know this is bad for you, right?” you joke quietly, scratching her head with the hand not holding a cigarette. “You should be inside, breathing the purified air I pay good money for.”

Mrrow.

“Yeah, yeah, I know I should stop. But you should be proud of me. I don’t even do it that often.” That’s actually the truth. You and the boys all say that drunk cigarettes don’t count, and you can’t call yourself a smoker if you only go through one pack every two weeks at the very least. By Seoul nightlife standards, your lungs are healthy. “You can hiss about it to your Jaeyunie-oppa.”

Meow.

“Okay, Jiji. Whatever you say.” You take a long drag before pulling away, flicking the ash onto the ceramic tray that Riki brought back for you as a souvenir the last time he went home to Japan. “Fuck, I really do like him. Sunghoon. Not Yunie, ew.”

Mah?

“Because… because… I just do. He’s so… he’s so not like… you know. Heeseung.”

Your cat stiffens on your lap at the mention of your ex’s name. You laugh to yourself, knowing that there’s no one in this world she despises more than him.

“He’s not… he actually cares about me. He doesn’t have to tell me; I don’t even have to ask him if he does. I see it now. And it’s different from how he cares about the boys. I know it’s not just because I’m the only girl. I’ve seen the way he treats other girls. So… he probably doesn’t like Jimin, huh?”

Jiji perks up at the mention of her full government name, but then looks at you as if to say, are you fucking stupid?

“Yeah, I am, haven’t you noticed? I talk to you all the fucking time.”

Aaow.

“No, I don’t just like him because I get preferential treatment. I just—he never does anything to stress me out. I know he considers my feelings, I mean, fuck, he always tells Jaeyunie and Jungwonie to stop making fun of me when we’re hanging out, and, like, he’s always doing shit for me without me having to ask him or even hint at it. He just… he does it because he wants to? And being around him makes me calm. And he’s strong. And he’s kind, and he doesn’t brag about all the nice fucking things he does for everyone, for me… And… and…”

You lose your momentum as your face begins to sting, tears welling up in your eyes. You can hear the pain in Sunghoon’s voice when he said he’d “always just be one of your dogs” echoing in your head.

“And he doesn’t lie.”

Lying is something you’ve always had a hard time stomaching. As a child, you were taught that it was better to tell the truth and be punished once than to get caught in a lie and get punished twice. You don’t feel good when you lie. Not even when they’re little white lies, like the one you told Hyunjin about Jungwon being sick when you’d flaked on your date with him.

So when you’d found out that Kim Sunoo, Jungwon’s best friend since literal birth, had been helping Heeseung hide his secret relationship with Sunoo’s own cousin, Chaewon—and had been accepting money from Heeseung to help him keep that secret—you lost your fucking mind.

You’d been through everything with your boyfriend. You abandoned your family for him. You moved to a new city with him. You slept on the floor of a shitty apartment for months with him, while Jungwon was stuck in the dorms of his university with three other roommates. You took home leftovers from the restaurant you worked at all throughout college to feed yourself and your brother.

All of that which you endured, just to find out that everything was a lie.

Heeseung didn’t love you as much as he said he did. Because if he did, he would never have gone behind your back with someone else for months and had the nerve to kiss you with the same mouth he used to lie to you.

Sunghoon doesn’t lie, you tell yourself.

He’s not him, he’s not him, he’s not him.

And it’s a good thing. It’s a very good thing.

Sunghoon, for as long as you’ve known him, always keeps his promises. But you also hope that he breaks that last promise he made to you.

You don’t make any appearance at the next race, which is a week later. You purposefully ignore the group chat when they ask you where you are, if you’re coming to watch Riki beat Shotaro and get his revenge for the last time they’d raced against each other.

They get the message—or lack thereof—loud and clear, and leave you alone. You’re grateful that they don’t pry, although Jaeyun texts you separately to scold you about “making Hoonie sad”. You reply to him with the middle finger emoji, even though you know he’s right. For once, at least.

You get texts from Jimin, Soyeon, and Aeri in the racer girls’ group chat, all of them pouting about how you’re not going to see Jimin and Soyeon race against each other in their newly-modified cars. You apologize and wire Aeri a million Won, telling her to place a bet on your behalf for Riki to win in his race. You stop replying when Jimin and Soyeon get on your ass for not being able to choose between who between the two of them would win.

Minjeong had said something to you at work a couple days ago that made your stomach not be able to stop hurting since. Because she’s the most neutral-territory friend you have, you told her exactly what happened between you and Sunghoon, not sparing any detail—not even the thing he’d said to you that made you feel like a monster.

“You can’t build a new house with the bricks from the last one and expect it to be different.”

She’d said it so casually, like she’d read it off the subject line off the first email in her inbox, but it struck you so hard, hammering in what Jay told you the first night you met Sunghoon. To stop taking out your pain on every man that tried to come your way after Heeseung.

In your defense, again, it wasn’t like they were truly serious about you, anyways. Except Sunghoon, who refused to play your games and refused to flirt back with you whenever you’d try to make a pass at him.

It was your automatic distrust of him that brought you here, sulking at home, feeling helpless beyond your control. What made it worse was that Sunghoon definitely knew why you are the way you are, what with Jaeyun’s big fat ginormous mouth being unable to stop itself from spilling all the gory details of your past to him before you two had even met.

There’s a knock at your door. You find that odd; everyone should be out on the road right about now. You check your friends’ locations on your phone to see who could possibly be in your building right now.

You see Sunghoon’s contact photo right above the glowing blue dot that signifies where you are.

“Fuck,” you mutter.

“Y/N?” he calls out, muffled by the thick wood of your front door. You turn to Jji, who is looking at you curiously.

“Go, bedroom.”

Obediently, your cat runs to your room, and you can tell she uses her back legs to kick it shut behind her by the way it closes softly. It’s a trick that Jungwon and Riki spent an entire week of their summer vacation last year teaching her to do, and this is the first time it’s ever been useful.

You check yourself in the mirror in the entryway to make sure you look at least somewhat presentable. You’re wearing Aeri’s light pink sweatpants and a massive white t-shirt you’re pretty sure Riki left in your car once and completely forgot about. You shrug. It’ll have to do.

You open the door. Your voice comes out harsher than you intend it to. “What are you doing here, Sunghoon?”

The man flinches almost imperceptably, but the glimpse of it still has your heart twisting in your chest. “I wanted to say that I’m sorry I hurt you. It’s not a question of if I hurt you or not with what I said, because I know I did.”

You purse your lips, trying to process the fact that he’s apologizing to you without you having to prompt him for it. “Oh…”

He continues shakily. “I realized that I didn’t tell you the truth. The full truth. I like you, I really do. Like, not just as a friend, you know. I like you like… that. Fuck, sorry, I’ve never had to do this before.”

You smile at him softly, looking up at him. The light in the hallway illuminates the crown of his head like a halo, making him look more ethereal than he usually is. “Never?”

“Yeah, never. It’s usually the other way around, but I caved this time.” He sighs. “You’re a special girl. You don’t know what you’ve done to me.”

You shrug. “Oh, I think I have some idea.”

“Meaning?”

“I thawed you out, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, you really did. So—”

“Just come in,” you say, stepping aside to make room for him. “Sorry, I don’t have anything to offer you besides water or strawberry milk, but we can go raid Jay’s fridge. I have a key.”

He laughs. “That’s okay. I can order takeout for us.”

“What’s behind your back?”

He holds up a bundle wrapped in clean white paper. “I brought these for you. They’re not, um… they’re not really ‘I’m sorry’ flowers so much as they are ‘will you go out on a date with me?’ flowers.”

“Roses,” you muse, taking the bouquet from him. The arrangement is simple yet stunning, with various shades of muted pink that you realize are quite similar to the color of your Supra. “How original.” You pause, your voice softening. “But thank you, though, really. They’re beautiful.”

Sunghoon chuckles. “I wanted to get you lilies, but I learned that they’re toxic to cats.”

You stare at him for a moment, dumbfounded. He’s so considerate, he even thought of that. Is there anything that he doesn’t think about? Is this what he does when he zones out? “Who told you that I have a cat?”

“You mentioned it a few times,” he answers softly, like he’s reminding you to breathe. “Like that one time Riki made us take him to the arcade and spent too much money trying to win the stuffed… whatever that was from the claw machine.”

“Hm. I did, huh?”

“Yeah... So can I see it?”

“My cat? That’s a little forward, don’t you think? Aren’t we moving too fast?”

“Your pet cat, you brat.” His grin is wide, though, as he looks down at you adoringly.

“Oh! Oh, yeah, duh.” You take your phone out and swipe through your camera roll until you come across a picture of your white ragdoll cat, her pretty blue eyes staring at you much in the same manner that Sunghoon is right now. “This is her. Her name’s Jimin… erm, yeah, like the one we know… but I call her Jiji.”

“She’s cute… she kinda looks like you, hm? Is she not here right now?” he asks, scanning your living room. “Is she okay?”

“Oh, I sent her to my room before I answered the door—she doesn’t really like guys except for Wonie and Riki but I think it’s because she thinks they’re her servants. And, uh, also, I don't know if you're okay with cats.”

“Ah. I like cats, don’t worry. I’d love to meet her if that’s okay with you.”

“She might scratch you, though. Just a warning.”

“Yeah, that’s okay. You’d bandage me up, though, right?” When he smiles at you reassuringly, your heart thrums. You don't hear any innuendo in his voice, nothing that suggests that he expects something more from you. Turning away to hide your blushing face, you mumble a “yes” and make a beeline to your room to retrieve Jiji.

You get to the door and open it. She’s standing right in front of you, looking at you expectantly, as if she's asking you where Sunghoon is.

“In the living room,” you answer. You’re talking to your fucking cat. What’s new? Jiji struts right past you, her tail flicking against your ankles, and trots to the living room.

You follow her from a distance and watch as she pauses in front of Sunghoon, who extends a hand down for her to sniff at.

“Hello, Jiji,” he says softly. “Nice to meet you.”

The cat chirps at him, and your eyes widen. Usually, she greets males (mostly your ex and his friend) other than your boys with something akin to a hiss that sounds like slicing someone’s tires open. Sometimes she swats at them, claws out and everything. But she hesitates for a second before butting her little head into Sunghoon’s palm, eyes closed and purring up a storm much like the way she does when she wants you to give her a treat.

“Wow,” you remark. “She likes you. A lot.”

Sunghoon hums in agreement before saying, “Yeah. Wonder what her mommy thinks of me, though. And if she’ll go on a date with me.”

You blush yet again. He’s certainly dialing up the charm tonight. Mustering up the courage to flirt back, you reply, “I think… yeah, her mommy likes you too. And I think she will go out with you.”

“Mm.” He pets Jiji’s head, scratching between her ears which prompts your cat to roll over and expose her soft belly to him for him to rub. Whore, you think to yourself, as if you wouldn’t have done the same thing. “That’s good. I’m glad. Actually—scratch that. I’m relieved.”

By now you’re very well-acquainted to the way he speaks, straight to the point without very much embellishing in his sentences. At least it’s not hard to guess what he’s thinking. He doesn’t talk with the intent to deceive or play games, and, quite frankly, you adore that about him.

“I don’t just want you to care about me. I want you to let me care about you,” he says suddenly, looking up at you with round, sparkling eyes. He’s being forthcoming and earnest. Enthusiasm suits him well, you think. It makes his face look younger, softer, happier. “I want to earn your trust. I want you to feel safe with me.”

“I already do, though,” you reply, voice quiet as if you don’t want to jinx it somehow.

He gives you a nod of acknowledgement. “I know. But I want to be the one you come to for everything. For anything at all.”

“But—”

“You’d never be a burden to me,” he adds. “You couldn’t, even if you tried.”

There’s still enough time for you to go watch the final event of tonight’s race, the showdown between Riki and Shotaro. You hurriedly fix your hair and throw on a jacket, not caring about how your outfit looks because, frankly, you’re not interested in showing off tonight. You know for certain now that the only person whose attention you’ve wanted has been yours all along.

When you arrive, you can see that the Enigma boys are all circled around what you assume is Riki’s GT-R, only because you can see the underglow bouncing off everyone’s shoes. Leave it to your youngest to be annoying as usual.

You get out of Sunghoon’s car and head over to them, him following closely behind you. You pinch Jaeyun’s forearm and he immediately steps to the side to let you through so you can see what’s going on.

The engine hood is up, and you can see someone’s legs sticking out from under the car.

“What’s going on?” you ask no one in particular.

“Well… Riki fucking forgot to change his oil today, and the jack broke halfway, so none of us can fit under there… except Ning,” Jungwon answers.

“Ning?” you repeat.

“Yeah. The girl I’ve been seeing…” he mumbles. “You know, the one from school.”

Your heart drops at the idea that you’ve been so caught up in your own angst that you haven’t bothered to keep up with anyone else’s life, especially your own brother’s. “Oh. I see. She knows cars, huh?”

“Well,” Riki shrugs. “I guess. Jungwonie-hyung gave her the worst instructions on how to change this shitbox’s oil, and she’s doing it just fine, so she must be smart.”

Before Jungwon can even reach Riki, Sunghoon grabs him by the collar of his shirt, holding him back. “Chill out, bro.”

Jungwon glares at the taller man. “Hey, just because my sister thinks you’re hot doesn’t mean—”

“Good lord,” Jay groans. “Can we please have five minutes of peace so I can start this race? I want to go home already. I can feel my bed calling me.”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon snickers. “It’s calling you to wash the damn sheets, you slob.”

You bite your lip to keep yourself from laughing. Shaking your head, you approach Ning, who’s just rolled out from underneath the GT-R.

“Surprised you didn’t go blind in there,” you say, helping her up. “Riki’s lights are no joke.”

She smiles at you, shaking her head. “Actually, it helped, I could barely see anything down there, it was all covered in brake dust.”

This makes everyone burst out into laughter, mocking Riki for poorly maintaining his car. You roll your eyes, taking the wrench from Ning. You turn to Sunghoon.

“Hoon, can you help me with this? I think we’re gonna need more than an oil change to win tonight.”

“Hey!” Riki exclaims. “The fuck’s that supposed to mean?”

“Language, young man,” you snap back at him before looking at Sunghoon. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

“Headlight air intake?” he asks, a smile forming on his plush lips.

You grin. “Headlight air intake.”

“Oh, you guys are officially fucking crazy,” Jay whistles, admiring your handiwork when you’re done. With Sunghoon’s help, you’d removed one of Riki’s precious LED headlights to allow more airflow into the engine, enabling him to push the car harder without fear of overheating. “Poor Taro isn’t gonna know what hit him.”

“This is legitimately worse than the time Y/N Viper-swapped her Supra,” Jaeyun giggles, clapping his hands together in glee. “Ooh, everyone’s so fucked. They’re lucky she doesn’t drive with a missing headlight, too.”

“Don’t give her any ideas,” Sunghoon jokes. “She can barely see at night as it is.”

“Oh,” you flirt back, “Is that why I think you’re more handsome in the daytime?”

Riki and Jungwon fake gagging noises behind you, but you smile.

“We’re making it out of the hood tonight, boys!” Riki hollers from his position at the finish line. Jungwon is beside him, at the wheel of his 350z. To Jungwon’s other side is Shotaro, looking annoyed. You can see him glare a hole into the back of Riki’s head as he walks behind your brother and his friend.

“Since when was Itaewon considered the hood?” you call back at him. Everyone laughs.

You see Jaeyun whisper something into Jimin’s ear, and she giggles. Meanwhile, Jay, awkward as he can be sometimes, plants a kiss on Aeri’s forehead. “Is it fucking cuffing season or something?” you mutter under your breath, thinking it was low enough that no one hears your annoyance.

“Us next,” Sunghoon responds cooly from behind you, draping an arm over your shoulder. “How’s that sound?”

“Holy shit,” Riki gasps, dramatically putting a hand over his mouth. “Sunghoon-hyung’s—”

“Got some serious rizz,” Jungwon finishes. “And if it weren’t directed towards noona, I’d cheer him on.”

Jay rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Won, you act like you haven’t wanted them together since you first met him.”

Jungwon pouts cutely and shrugs. “Yeah, yeah. It’s more fun to pretend to be an opp, though.”

You glare at your brother. “Wanna see a real opp? I’ll tell Ning that you like to—”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” He turns to Sunghoon. “Hyung, did you know that noona sometimes drools in her sleep?”

“I do.”

“WHAT?” the boys chorus like they’re in a cartoon.

Sunghoon looks at them with pure curiosity. “Yeah, why wouldn’t I know? She fell asleep and drooled all over my arm when we watched Interstellar for the fifth time.”

“Sunghoon!” you squeal. “You’re not supposed to tell them that happened!”

“Wait, fifth?” Jaeyun asks, hands sassily placed on his hips. “We’ve only watched it four times.”

You and Sunghoon exchange a look, your face heating up. “Well, uh…”

“Nevermind that,” Jay interrupts, his arm around Aeri’s waist. “We know you two hang out without us. Jaeyunie’s just fucking with you.”

“Yeah,” Riki agrees. “In fact, we want you guys to hang out without us.”

You look at Ning, rolling your eyes. “See what you’re getting into?”

She gives you a warm smile. “I don’t mind.”

park sunghoon: We’re still on for our date tonight, yes?

you: yeah! what are we doing?? i can pick a spot if you don’t have anything in mind

park sunghoon: None of that from you, princess. Just be ready by 7, I’ll pick you up. Our reservation is at 7:30. I already made sure you’d like the restaurant and you can wear that black dress you bought last week.

… Princess?

you: how…?

park sunghoon: Well, I know what food you like because we’ve gone out to eat so many times. And also, I saw you post the dress on your story when you tried it on in the fitting room, so I figured you got it.

park sunghoon: Before you get upset thinking I’m controlling what you wear, I’m not. I know you have a hard time choosing your outfits (even though they’re all very nice) and the dress looked lovely on you.

He’s trying to make your life easier. You smile to yourself, face going hot. You bite your knuckles to keep yourself from screaming at your desk.

you: oh… okay!

you: i’ll see you later hoon :)

park sunghoon: Can’t wait. Have a great day at work, beautiful.

God, you want to throw your phone across the office with how giddy you are. You finish work early by skipping your lunch break, and you go home at 2:30 in the afternoon, thanks to Minjeong excitedly whisper-yelling at you that she’ll cover for you and to “Go get some dick, girl!” and smacking your ass as you scurried to the elevator. When you arrive home, you immediately run to your bathroom and turn on the shower. You’ve got music blasting from your speaker while you wash your hair and shave and scrub down your entire body. You’re smiling at yourself in the mirror while you dry your hair and do your skincare routine, and you’ve still got a good four hours to get all dressed up for your first real, official date in years.

taglist: @enha-stars @karinasbaby @venomhee @lilifiedeans @sngleehee @hoonfr @seuomo @en-verse @starfallia @eloelooo @lhspeachie @idkdykilr @seochannnn @moon368 @capri-cuntz @p-d1ddy @xxbluestrifexx @p4ranormaluv @laurradoesloveu

#🀄️ssv #park sunghoon smut #sunghoon smut #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader smut #sunghoon fic #sunghoon angst #i hate tagging things #enhypen smut

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fantaxzia · 7 months ago

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Ohhh, I already feel jealous of Azriel. 👀🥵

Elain Archeron (from Azriel’s POV)

🎨 art by @/diielliee on twitter and IG

#Az is definitely going on his knees to worship her #elain archeron #elain acotar #elain archeron appreciation #elain week 2024

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tswaney17 · 2 years ago

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I Do Bad Things with You - Part 42

Happy @elainappreciationweek! 🌸 My contribution for the Lovers Day prompt is an update to this beast. Hope you enjoy! 💕

My fanfic account: @tswaney17fics

My ao3 account: tswaney17

Please let me know what you think about this update. I love getting your feedback. Constructive criticism is always welcome. 💕

Catch up here.

Credit to @featherymalignancy for Cassian’s nickname, Cash. 😘

Trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault , language, NSFW

Word Count: 7,229

Azriel was dreading going back to work tomorrow. Frankly, the time he had off, spending his honeymoon with his wife, was the best three and a half weeks he’d ever experienced.

The places they saw, the food they ate. It was all indescribable.

Not to mention he got to fuck her all over the world until she was a limp, sated mess. His favorite escapade was when Elain rode him under the northern lights, her golden-brown hair alight with colors. Her pale skin shimmered in blues and greens and purples.

She only allowed herself to ride him once while they stayed in the Winter District. Their dome-like cabin retained the cold and it turned out that Elain was always freezing. Even while they had sex, she could only remain above the sheets for about ten minutes before she started to shiver.

He didn’t mind, spending a great deal of time covering her body with his own, keeping her warm as best as he could, though he’d be lying if her blue lips didn’t cause him to worry. They never seemed to regain the pink color until they were in the Spring District to visit their massive gardens.

Now all he wanted to do was spend every waking moment with her.

“What’s got your face all frowny?” Elain asked, leaning a hip on the door frame of his office. “Don’t tell me you’re working already. You still have,” she glanced at her watch, diamond rings catching the sunshine from his floor-to-ceiling windows, “another seventeen hours before we’re back on the clock.” Her lips pulled up into a teasing smile.

“Not working. Just catching up on a few of the other things. I didn’t touch any of the messages I was sent during our honeymoon and there’s quite a few to go over and respond to.” Meaning, he didn’t look at anything regarding his half-brother’s movements or the details Ruhn had pulled for him. He’d been content to just enjoy the time they had together and didn’t want to let anything take away from that.

She seemed to understand his underlying meaning, stepping further into the room. “Anything I should be made aware of?”

He shook his head. “Nothing that stands out, but I’m going to catch up with Ruhn in an hour to go over some details.”

Elain closed the distance between them, coming to perch on his lap. She ran her fingers through the hair at his nape, scratching the back of his scalp with her nails.

Az slung his arm around her waist, holding her close. “Why don’t we go to dinner tonight? I’ll make us a reservation at one of the nice restaurants in the downtown area. Let’s celebrate the last night of our honeymoon before we go back to our normal routines.”

She leaned in, kissing him softly. “I’d like that. I’m going to miss having you like this. Seeing you at every moment of the day.” Elain nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his chilled mist and cedar scent. “Thank you for taking me on the most epic honeymoon, Az. I love you so much.”

His large hand cradled the back of her head, tucking her under his chin. “We will have many more adventures, love. But I’m happy you enjoyed our honeymoon. I wanted to do everything your heart desired.”

“Well, you succeeded. Even if I did almost lose my toes,” she laughed, voice twinkling.

He pressed his chuckle into the side of her head, kissing her temple. Gods, he loved his wife.

An hour later, Azriel was sitting at the bar of his club, waiting for Ruhn. It wasn’t open yet, so he decided to just meet him there. Lorcan was standing outside waiting for his guest while Elide was behind the counter, prepping for the evening.

He felt his presence join him without even having to turn his head. “Drink?” Azriel asked him.

“Sure. Whatever you’re having,” Ruhn said, sliding onto the barstool.

“Elide,” Az waved down his employee. “Same for him,” he indicated with a raise of his glass.

She was quick to move, pouring a knuckle’s worth of whiskey into a glass and sliding it on the counter. “I’ll be in the back if you need me,” she said, stepping through the door to offer them privacy.

Ruhn picked up the glass and clinked it on his. “Congratulations, man. Happy for you and Elain.”

Azriel dipped his head in thanks. “What’s the entail?”

The other man took a sip of his drink. “Frankie told Elias to stand down.”

Hazel eyes widened in shock. “He what?”

“You heard me. He told Elias to stand down and not make a move against you or Elain.”

His heart pounded in his chest. This—it wasn’t right. Frankie had leverage against him. His brother had been looking for a way past his defenses and when he finally had it, he was just going to let it go. It didn’t make sense. “Why?”

Ruhn shrugged. “If there’s any reason, they’re keeping it tight-lipped. I would say nobody other than Nick would have any idea why Frankie isn’t pursuing this.”

Azriel took a swig of his whiskey, letting the burn coat his throat. He needed to feel something other than the anxiety rolling in his gut. “And what about Elias? How’s he taking the order?”

His informant snorted into his glass, swallowing the golden liquid. “As well as you’d expect. He’s furious. Was shoved down the ranks and now even Nick won’t speak with him. Word on the street is that he’s been trying to rally some low-level kids out of Frankie’s mob.”

He stared at Ruhn dumbfounded. “He really thinks he’ll be able to pull from Frankie? Frankie? The guy is even more ruthless than I am.” It took an effort not to glance down at the scars that adorned his hands. “Any kid that steps out is as good as dead.” Once you were in his brother’s clutches, the only way out was by death.

Az never collected kids. Refused to let any of his associates broach them. But Frankie had boys as young as twelve doing low-level work. Running drugs and cash. Making drop-offs on their bikes. If they were good at what they did, they’d be smuggling guns at fourteen. Sixteen the latest.

And if they weren’t good at it, well, let’s just say the Sidra River was notorious for being a good body disposal method. Most of the time, when somebody was dumped, they weren’t found, but every once in a while, he’d hear about a fifteen-year-old turning up dead in the river.

“Let’s hope that those kids know it,” Ruhn murmured, slinging back the rest of his drink. “I’ll keep my ears down for anything else.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a thin, wrapped box, sliding it across the bar over to him. “For you and the Misses.”

Azriel blinked at the black-wrapped package. “What is it?”

The other man just grinned. “Matching pocket daggers. I had your names engraved on them. I thought that with everything going on, it might be wise for Elain to have something on her for protection.”

His lips quirked up in the corner. “That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you, Ruhn.”

Ruhn nodded, sliding off the barstool and making his way out of the club.

Az thumbed the black package, grinning to himself at the idea of handing Elain the present to carry around in her purse. He was already mentally preparing himself for her hesitation with the weapon.

He was pulling out his wallet when Elide slipped in from the back.

“Everything okay, sir?”

“Yeah, we’re good, thanks Elide,” he said, dropping a large bill on the counter.

Her dark brows furrowed. “You know you own this place, right? You don’t actually have to pay for your drinks.”

He chuckled, returning his wallet to his pocket. “It’s not for the drinks. It’s for you. For being on top of serving us and giving us space. I appreciate having good employees.”

“Azriel…” she started, but he held up a hand.

“Just take it, Elide. You deserve it.” He headed toward the door, calling, “I’ll send Lorcan back in. Have a good night.”

Tugging his phone out of his pocket, he dialed Velaris au Château—the French restaurant Az wanted to take Elain to that night. “Pierre, it’s Azriel Knight.”

“Mr. Knight,” the man on the other line said, his French accent heavy. “What can I do for you?”

“I need a table for my wife and me tonight. Is your private room available?” he asked, climbing into the car.

~~~

Azriel was tying his midnight tie when Elain slipped out of their closet in a blush-colored chiffon gown. It framed her slightly tanned skin perfectly, matching the color that he loved to see on her cheeks. His fingers paused on the fabric, looking her up and down. He breathed heavily. “El, my stunning wife. You look gorgeous.”

That pretty blush crept along the high arches of her cheeks as she smiled up at him. “Thank you, husband.” She crossed the room, taking the tie from his hands. “Let me.” Quick as a flash, she had it knotted and was securing it up to his neck. “Perfect. You look very handsome, Az.”

He dropped a kiss to the tip of her nose, making her scrunch it up in the cute way she always did. “I have something for you,” he told her, pulling the wrapped box from his pocket. Az handed her the present from Ruhn.

Elain’s brows raised. “What’s this for?” she asked, carefully unwrapping it.

“It’s from my informant, Ruhn.” She glanced up at him then, confusion etched into her face. “It’s a wedding gift.”

“Oh,” she said surprised, looking back down at the box. Elain flipped the lid, a small gasp escaping her parted lips. “Oh, wow.” Her finger skimmed the smooth handle. “They’re beautiful.”

Az gently plucked the one with her name engraved on it from the box and held it between them. “He thought that you should have something on you for protection.” Flicking open the blade, Azriel showed her how to maneuver the small weapon.

Her dainty fingers closed around the knife handle. “Please tell him thank you for this the next time you see him.”

Now it was his turn to raise a brow. “You’re not hesitant about carrying this?”

She shook her head, golden brown hair swishing over her shoulders. “No, I’m not actually. I think it’s a good thing to have on me. Just in case.”

Cupping the side of her face, Azriel brought her in for a slow, sweet kiss. “I love you, my sweet.”

Elain sighed into his mouth, melting into his embrace.

Taking his knife from the box, he slid it into his pocket before reaching for her hand to lace their fingers together. “Come on. We’ll be late for dinner.”

The couple arrived at the restaurant and got seated in the private room that had a large window overlooking the glittering Sidra River. Azriel ordered a bottle of champagne and translated the menu for Elain.

“I didn’t know you could speak and read French,” she murmured after their orders were taken.

He took a sip from his flute of champagne, smiling behind the glass. “I speak a lot of languages.”

Her lips curved up at the corner. “Perhaps you should take advantage of that later tonight.”

Az chuckled, leaning back in his seat. “Are you looking forward to tomorrow? Being back at work?”

Elain breathed in deeply, considering her words. “Yes…and no. Am I looking forward to getting back into my routine, checking in with patients, and performing surgeries? Yes, of course. I love my job, and I love the people I work with too.” She reached across the table to take his hand. “But I’m going to miss this. All this time together we’ve shared, just the two of us. I loved spending every waking moment with you for the last three weeks.”

He tightened his grip on her fingers. “I did too. Frankly, I don’t want it to end.”

She smiled at him, the one she reserved only for him. It was this soft, upturn of her lips, brown eyes sparkling. He loved that smile.

Elain took a swig of her champagne. “Do you feel different?”

Azriel cocked his head to the side. “Different how?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, just different. Like something’s changed, I suppose.”

“Well, something did change,” he grinned, making her laugh.

“I know that. I’m talking about something else.” She shifted back in her seat. “I can’t explain it—I can feel it in my gut that something has changed. I just don’t know what.”

He was going to ask her to elaborate, but the door opened, revealing their waitress with their dinner. Az watched her eyes widen at the gorgeous dish set in front of her, and then in front of him.

She pointed to her plate, glancing up at their waitress. “Is the flower edible?”

He chuckled. “Everything on your plate is edible, love.”

“What he said,” the woman grinned. “Anything else I can get for you?”

Azriel shook his head. “No, we’re good, thank you.”

The woman dipped her head, excusing herself and leaving them to their meal. He watched his wife cut into her plate, forking the beef.

“Wow,” Elain moaned after her first bite. “This is delicious.”

“Yeah?” Az smiled. “Are we going to have to make this one a regular, too?”

She laughed, sipping her drink. “Most likely. How many other restaurants do you have up your sleeve?”

He winked at her, tilting his glass in her direction. “A few.”

Elain popped another bite into her mouth, humming in contemplation. “We may have to visit those other places, just to see how they compare.”

“Noted,” he teased, cutting into his food.

They chatted about anything and everything while they ate. Their favorite places they visited, what they were looking forward to and were dreading the most in their return to normalcy.

Sipping on the last of their champagne as they waited for her dessert—crème brûlée. It was one of Elain’s favorites and he would stop at nothing to give her all of her heart’s desires.

When the door opened and it wasn’t their waitress who stepped in with their dessert, Azriel went rigid—his heart thumping with fear.

Because that was Nicklaus, setting the plate with the ceramic bowl in front of his wife.

Elain immediately noted his tension, her dark eyes flicking between the man who had entered and himself. She had never met or seen his biological brothers before. Wouldn’t know who exactly had joined them.

“Aren’t you going to try it?” his brother grinned down at her. “It’s specially made by the chef just for you.”

She didn’t touch the spoon, instead pushing the plate away from her. “I’m actually not hungry anymore.”

Good girl.

He knew she had no idea what was going on, but he was eternally grateful that Elain could read the room.

Nick’s mouth turned up at the corner. “Azriel, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, not bothering to look in his direction. No, his eyes remained on his wife and Az did not like her receiving that attention at all. Not when it came from someone as deadly as Nicklaus.

She met his gaze and read the minuscule change in his expression telling her to move. Elain slipped from her seat, using the table to provide a barrier between her and Nick, and perched herself onto his lap, an arm wrapping around his neck.

His brother never lost that self-satisfied smirk, simply claiming Elain’s now vacated seat.

“What do you want, Nicklaus?” he all but growled.

Elain tensed on his lap, finally putting a name to a face.

Nick leaned sideways, pulling a gun from the back of his pants, and placed it on the table, facing them.

His wife went rigid, breathing harshly through her parted lips. He could sense her fear, practically taste it on his tongue. Azriel slid his large, scarred palm up her body until it lay directly on her chest, over her heart.

Not a second later, he felt Elain’s hand cover his own.

He casually gripped her hand in his other one, bringing it up to kiss her knuckles, and replaced it on her lap.

She turned her face a fraction, shooting him a questioning look.

Az would sacrifice his life for her if it came down to it. Any twitch from his brother and he’d cover her, his hand his last resort to protecting her most vital organ. But like fuck was he going to let a bullet ruin her career by shattering her hand. He couldn’t explain it to her, not right then so he subtly shook his head instead, urging her to listen to him.

Nick reached forward, sliding Elain’s crème brûlée toward him. He cracked the sugar-crusted top with a spoon, taking a mouthful. “This place makes the best dessert.” He winked at them, at her. “Shame you’re too full to enjoy this.”

“Nick,” Azriel snapped. “What the fuck do you want?”

He picked up Elain’s napkin, wiping the corner of his mouth. “Do you know how difficult it is to see you, to meet with you?”

“You could make an appointment like everyone else,” Elain muttered.

Az gripped her hip.

But Nick’s smile grew, looking closely at his wife.

Too closely for his taste. Azriel ran a possessive hand over her curves, lips descending upon the exposed skin of her neck. He never took his eyes off his brother, not even as he kissed her.

“Pardon me, sweetheart. But men are talking.”

Elain’s head cocked to the side at the tone—the dismissal. There wasn’t anything Azriel could do to stop her from lurching out of his lap, snatching his steak knife from the table, and slamming it between Nick’s spread fingers.

Az grabbed her around the waist, hauling her back onto his lap as she snarled, “Pardon me, but his wife doesn’t take well to being talked down to.”

His brother was quick to mask his stunned expression, though he didn’t reach for the gun still sitting on the table. A low chuckle escaped Nick’s chest, plucking the knife from the table. “Well, I have to admit it Azriel, you didn’t pick a meek one like I thought you might. One who kept quiet and hid when things got rough.” He twirled the blade in his fingers before setting it back on the table.

“Frankly,” he started, “I really just wanted to see what all the fuss was about.” Nick sipped from Elain’s flute of champagne. “You’ve caused quite a stir, Elain. Everyone is talking about the Velaris Mob’s new queen. We even had someone approach us with information about you two—”

“Yes, we know all about Elias Hewn’s movements,” Az snipped.

His brother chuckled. “He was rather thirsty for vengeance, brother. You managed to piss off your only ally. Rather poor decisions if you ask me.”

“Elias was a useless ally; something I think you’re well aware of or you wouldn’t have sent him to your lower ranks.” At Nick’s surprised face, he smirked. “Yes, you’re not the only one who knows things, brother.”

Nicklaus’s jaw feathered. “Careful, Azriel, in how you speak to me when I’m holding the gun.”

“I think it is you, who should be careful, Nicklaus. You come in here, interrupt my dinner with my wife, speak to her in such a manner, and think you can threaten me?” He moved so quickly, that Elain barely jostled on his lap, slamming his weapon on the table. “You and I both know who will get the draw first.” His scarred fingers laid on top of the grip, the metal singing under his touch to be used. To kill his horrid brother now.

But Azriel also knew that by doing so, he’d start a bloody war with Frankie. No matter that both of them deserved to be dropped to the bottom of the Sidra, he had to think about the safety of the woman still sitting on his lap. Because the last thing he wanted was to drag Elain into the middle of fucking bloodbath.

He watched Nick take in his words; knew he was correct in his assumption about who’d get the first shot off. Azriel’s reputation was built on the fact that he never missed his mark. And like hell would he miss when it came to his brothers.

Elain didn’t dare move, her body tensed and primed under his grip.

Nick looked between them. “It appears we have nothing left to discuss.”

Azriel didn’t bother to deign him with a response.

Sensing the conversation was over, Nick rose from his chair, grabbed his gun, and slipped it back into his waistband. Az didn’t dare remove his finger from his trigger.

He stopped halfway to the door, turning to look back at them. “I’ll give Frankie your greetings.”

“Tell Frankie,” Az growled, “that if either you or he come waving your guns around my wife again, your life is forfeited.” He watched the warning take in the twitch of Nick’s brow; the slight curl of his lip. But he left without another word and Azriel wasn’t sure whether that was a good thing or not.

~~~~~

Elain hadn’t felt fear like that since she was kidnapped by Hybern. The icy dread that had swept over her body left her skin cold and her heart racing. She knew when Nicklaus had entered, they were in some sort of trouble—Azriel’s rigidness told her that whoever had joined them was a threat to him. To her.

And then she found out it was his biological brother. The one who watched as Alec and Francisco burned his hands.

His beautiful, perfect, strong hands.

She wanted to kill him. Elain wanted Azriel to put a bullet in him.

But she also knew that doing so would open up a brutal and deadly war between the Velaris Mob and the Illyrian one. So, she took the knife from the table and stabbed it between his fingers. Both for speaking to her in such a manner and for the abuse he inflicted and allowed her husband to endure as a child. She had never felt vengeance like what she wanted to unleash on the man sitting across the table from her, eating her crème brûlée…drinking her champagne.

The audacity.

When he left, she released a breath she wasn’t even aware she had been holding, sucking in air as if she had been drowning. Her emotions took over: tears running like rivers down her face, body shaking. Elain buried her face into Azriel’s neck, taking his rich chilled mist and cedar scent deep into her lungs.

Or what she could get during her gasps.

His arms slid around her form, holding her close to him, but not close enough.

No, she needed to feel him. Needed to make sure he was here with her; that they were safe. “Az,” she cried out, fingers moving down his broad torso to fumble with his belt buckle. “I need you. Please, I need you.”

Those golden eyes churned with fear and comfort and wrath, the green fissures swirling in the warm depths. It was such a mix of emotions she read there. But he seemed to grasp what she needed from him.

Elain saw that same need reciprocated by him.

“I’m here, love,” he murmured into her hair, lips pressing to her skull. “I’m here.” Hefting her off his lap, he set her on the edge of the table, rising from his seat to stand between her spread thighs.

There would be no foreplay in this. Not at this time. The desire to be as close as their bodies allowed was too great to tease and touch. This would be raw, animalistic fucking.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, gently pushing her down to lie on her back, legs dangling off the edge.

Elain’s arms went wild, searching for something to grab, and in their haste, sent dishes and drinkware flying.

The shattering glass didn’t stop Azriel from sucking a mark into the smooth, creamy skin of her neck. A purple bruise blossomed under his machinations. His large palms slid her dress skirts up her thighs to her waist, revealing the white lace.

A few quick moves had her bare, her panties tucked into the pocket of his dress pants. His belt buckle clinking made her body shudder in anticipation.

“Hard and fast, baby,” he muttered into her throat before sheathing himself to the hilt.

Elain threw her head back, fingers grasping the cloth and edge of the table. “Fuck,” she moaned.

Azriel didn’t give her a second to adjust, pulling his hips out and slamming back in. He set a vicious pace, balls slapping against her.

Her legs wrapped around his trim waist, urging to fuck into her deeper. She let go of the table, clutching him at his shoulder and around the back of his neck. It forced more of his weight on top of her, but that’s exactly what she needed.

He pressed into her harder like he couldn’t bear any part of them not touching.

She needed everything from him. Everything he gave her and more. Elain felt her toes curl in anticipation of that glorious, blissful drop into her pleasure. “I’m so close,” she cried out.

Az’s mouth traveled down her body, sliding fabric out of the way to suck a pert nipple between his lips.

Up, up, up, she climbed, delirious in the friction of his strong body against her clit, the relentless pounding into her.

Trapped in their bubble, neither of them heard the door open until Ruhn voiced an “Oh.”

Azriel released her breast, twisting his head to snarl at the intruder. “Get out!” The door clicked shut softly as he looked back down at her, took in her little gasping breaths, the way her chest heaved, and said, “My neck, Elain,” he groaned. “Bite my neck. Mark me as you come.”

She surged up, ripping his tie loose. Shoving the collar of his shirt aside, she clamped her teeth at the junction where his neck and shoulder, and came hard. Her moans were muffled against his skin, body spasming around his cock.

He grunted, thrusting into her to ride out her orgasm as he chased his own. A hard suck from her lips had him cresting, strokes becoming sloppy until he slammed home one last time and stilled, spilling himself inside of her.

His pants fanned over the skin of her neck, lips pressing light kisses to the underneath side of her jaw.

Elain released him from her teeth, carding her fingers through his damp hair. “Ruhn saw us fucking,” she murmured, humor dancing in her tone.

He huffed out a laugh. “Better him than traumatizing our poor waitress.”

She had to agree, even though they were caught at all. Holy fucking shit! She just had sex with Azriel in a public space where anyone could’ve walked in on them. The door wasn’t even locked, for fucks sake! They had had sex in some pretty open places before, but Az had always made sure they had their privacy either by a locked door or enclosed in their own space.

The thrill from the risk of being caught just added to the fire burning inside of her.

Az kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, her forehead, anywhere he could as he pulled out of her. “Hang tight,” he whispered, tucking himself back into his pants.

To be honest, Elain was too exhausted to move. The adrenaline from their earlier visitor had faded. She lay, sprawled out on the table, still trying to catch her breath. What she didn’t expect was for Azriel’s tongue to delve between her thighs. “Azriel!” she squealed, lurching up into a sitting position to glare at him. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Those amber eyes glowed with mischief. “Cleaning you up, now relax.”

She mumbled something about how that did the opposite of cleaning her up, but after a few more swipes with his tongue, he placed a kiss on her clit and rose back to his feet.

His glistening mouth had her muttering, “Insatiable,” under her breath.

“Always for you,” he grinned, dropping a kiss on her plump lips before helping her off the table and fixing her dress.

“Azriel,” she chastised.

“Elain,” he shot back.

She rolled her eyes. “Azriel, my underwear. It’s still stuffed in your pocket.”

“Your point?”

Oh, this wicked man. “You expect me to go commando,” she demanded incredulously.

Az opened his wallet and dropped what looked like eight, hundred-dollar bills onto the table. “It wouldn’t be the first time,” he said, shoving the leather into his back pocket with a little smirk.

He kissed her cheek, took her hand, and tugged her to the door.

She grumbled the whole way there but stopped when she saw Ruhn leaning against the wall opposite of them, a smirk toying on his lips. Her entire face lit up like a flame, a red color splotching her chest.

“Good evening, Sir,” Ruhn said, then nodded at her, “Mrs. Archeron-Knight.”

Elain acknowledged him with a dip of her chin, before stepping slightly behind Azriel in embarrassment.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” her husband asked, voice carefully neutral.

It didn’t escape her that Az bypassed stating his name out loud completely.

“I received notice that you were going to be receiving a visitor tonight and I wanted to check in when you didn’t answer my call.”

“I keep my phone on silent when I’m with my wife. But, yes, we got an unexpected visitor tonight.”

Ruhn pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer to them. “What did he want?”

Azriel shrugged. “To make a statement, I suppose. He didn’t really tell me anything I didn’t already know. I think he just wanted to try and get a rise out of me. And get close to Elain.” He tugged her hand, bringing her to his side, and wrapped an arm around her waist. “Where were you?”

The other man slid his hands into his pockets. “I was following Elias. He had a few of the lower ranks with him.”

She didn’t like the way Az’s brows furrowed.

“What’s he up to?”

Ruhn shrugged. “I can’t figure it out. But I doubt it’s any good. I’m just waiting for word to get up there that he’s snagged a few younglings.”

“How young are they?” Elain asked before she could think better of it.

Those dark blue eyes looked at her. “Early twenties, thankfully. I was concerned he’d go after the teens.”

Her brows raised. “He has teens in his crew?” she questioned, keeping her voice low.

Azriel’s thumb swiped over her knuckles. “Unfortunately. I’ve refused them that young but my brother thinks kids are expendable.”

Elain couldn’t stop the shiver, feeling her stomach churn with nausea. She had always sought the good in people; believed people could be redeemed with the right motivation. But she was beginning to think that neither Frankie nor Nicklaus had any redemption qualities in their souls.

“We’ll figure it out,” Az said, though she wasn’t sure if it was more for himself than the rest of them.

And that was concerning for her.

~~~

It had been just over two weeks since she returned from her honeymoon and she was going through the motions.

As the resident attending, she had quite a bit to take care of upon her return, and she had been on top of it. But now…she felt like she was underwater and couldn’t focus.

Which was not a good thing considering she was assisting Thesan with a complicated surgery, giving the new residents the ins and outs. It was a long procedure, having spent nine hours in the operating room already.

Elain’s head was dizzy, vision blackening at the edges. She knew she should’ve taken a break when Thesan asked her—he must’ve been able to see the exhaustion on her face. But she wouldn’t let herself be coddled, even if nobody knew the reason why she was so tired.

However, when her eyes fogged over completely, Elain knew she had fucked up in not taking advantage of the break she was offered. “Take the forceps,” she told the resident working across from her.

Stunned, the young female did what she said, just before Elain’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed onto the floor of the operating room.

~~~

When consciousness tugged at her mind, the first thing Elain realized was that everything ached. Her head, her hips, her legs. Her body felt unnaturally weak, and she knew it was because she hadn’t eaten enough that day. Fuck, she was so damn tired. She blinked a few times, adjusting to the harsh, fluorescent lighting.

“Elain,” came a relieved voice.

She twisted her head to the other side, finding Viviane sitting on the edge of her hospital bed. Too many emotions flashed across her friend’s face to be able to decipher, though worry was at the forefront of the list.

“Oh, thank god,” she breathed, placing her pale hand on Elain’s covered thigh. “You’ve been out for almost half an hour.”

Groaning, she sat up in bed. “What happened?” she asked, wincing as her head spun dizzyingly.

Viviane stood up, arms crossing in a way that told her she was about to get a scolding.

Oh, shit…

“You collapsed, Elain. In the middle of surgery! You’re very lucky one of your residents was standing behind you and caught you before your head hit the ground.” Briefly, she wondered which resident it was, but saved that question for later. Not when she saw the nurse’s face soften, knowingly. “Ellie,” she started in a hushed whisper, “did you know you were pregnant?”

For a moment, it seemed like the world paused as it waited for her answer; as Viv waited. Yes—yes, she knew she was pregnant. Had known since Monday and was still trying to wrap her head around it. Finally, she sighed, unable to meet her friend’s gaze, and looked down at her tangled fingers in her lap. “I know,” she whispered.

It was the first time she had admitted it to herself out loud and she felt the weight of that secret lift off her chest.

There was a pregnant pause before Viviane asked, “Does Azriel know?”

They’d only been married for almost two months and Elain had already fucked up. How she managed to not realize her birth control shot that was scheduled the week of her wedding was already the last week in the timeline she had to get it was beyond her. So, when she came in for her postponed appointment on Monday, having rescheduled it a second time like an idiot and realizing how late she was in getting the dosage, she had to get a pregnancy test.

The shock she felt that day still hadn’t completely worn off.

She shook her head, finally answering her friend. “No, I haven’t told him yet.” Truthfully, she was scared to. Not because she thought he’d react badly, but because they’d never even remotely toed the line about whether they wanted to have kids, and frankly, she was concerned he didn’t.

Elain whipped her head to look back up at the head nurse, eyes wide with fear. “Viv, I need you to keep this between us. I’m not ready for everyone to know yet and I still haven’t even talked to Az about it yet.”

Her friend pursed her lips. “Well, you might want to figure out how to tell him soon.”

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You didn’t call him, did you?” At Viv’s silence, she pushed, “Viviane, please tell me you did not call my husband.”

“What did you want me to do, Elain?” she snapped. “You collapsed in surgery! Thesan was worried sick! Of course, we’re going to call your hus—”

“Where is my wife?” came that deep, panicked voice that Elain knew all too well.

“In—in there, sir.”

Footsteps sounded and then he appeared, all six-foot-four, still stressed to the nines of him. The worry on his face made her chest ache. “Elain,” he breathed, rushing around Viv who stepped out of his way and to her side. He cupped her face between his palms, kissing her gently on the forehead before taking a seat on her bed. “Love,” he murmured in such a heartbreaking manner that she nearly burst into tears. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll give you two a minute,” Viviane said quietly, closing the door behind her as she left.

Azriel let his thumb skim across her cheek. “What’s going on?”

She tugged her head from her hands, feeling like she couldn’t bear to let him touch her while she harbored this secret from him. Even though she knew it was time, her gut churned with anxiety. “I’m fine. They really shouldn’t have called you.”

His brow furrowed in confusion and hurt at her distancing herself. “Elain, you collapsed in surgery. And you’ve been acting odd for the last few days.” He paused, looking at her closing. His gaze felt like a brand on her skin. “I was hoping you would talk to me without me having to ask, but now I’m asking.”

The pain in his voice nearly made her flinch. She looked down at her hands, taking a slow, steady breath. “I’m pregnant,” she whispered so lowly, that Elain wasn’t even sure he could hear it. They sat in the silence of her confession until she finally dared to look at his face.

His eyes were searching her, mouth slightly parted in what she could only describe as shock.

“Say something, please.”

He swallowed, throat working with the movement. “I’m trying to determine if you’re happy about this or not…” the uncertainty clear in his voice. “Elain, do you want to have a baby?”

Her throat ached and there was nothing she could do to stop the tears that rolled down her cheeks. “Do you?” she asked pathetically as she sniffed.

Az gapped at her. “Is that what this is about? You think I don’t want to have this baby?”

She wiped under her nose with the back of her hand. “I know it’s early for us; I mean, we’ve only been married for a month and a half…And I know you didn’t have the best childhood. I just—” she sniffed again. “I just wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want to have kids.”

Azriel moved then, sitting further up on her bed so he could pull her into his chest. His large hand threaded through her hair to cradle the back of her head and tipped it up towards him. He pressed his lips against her forehead. “I’ll admit the timing could be better, that I wanted to share a bit more with you before we had a family. But I would be honored if you had my children, Elain.” His hands slid to cup her face again, thumbs brushing away her tears.

“You’ve never mentioned kids before,” she said, needing to understand why they had never had this conversation until now.

He smiled sheepishly. “To be honest, I was waiting for you to bring it up. I didn’t want you to feel pressured into having kids. I know how hard you’ve worked for your career, El, and I’m so proud of you…I didn’t want you to think I was asking you to stop.”

Elain huffed an exasperated laugh, feeling utterly ridiculous about the whole situation. Having a family had seemed like a distant dream after what Gray—her ex had done to her. “I feel really silly for not bringing this up before we got married,” she said, earning a small chuckle from him. “You really want to have a baby?”

His lips curled up in the corner. “Elain, I don’t think you can comprehend the gravity of my desire to get you pregnant. To have you carry my child. To see you waddling around like a cute duck—”

“I don’t waddle,” she huffed.

Azriel’s smile was like a bright, shining beacon of hope and beauty. “You will.” He paused, seeming to collect his thoughts. “That is if you want to have this baby too. I will support any decision you make; you know that.”

She let out a breath of relief because the truth of the matter was that she did want this baby. Elain wanted nothing more than to have his child. “I’m scared,” she admitted. It wasn’t a lie. Though she was excited for this next chapter with him, there were a few things that worried her, as many expecting mothers go through.

He kissed her sweetly as if he thought she might break beneath his fingertips. “I am too,” he told her. “But we’ll figure it out. Like we always do.”

Her arms went around his neck as she clung to him. When she pulled away, his hand drifted down to her still-flat belly. There was an awe in his eyes that made her chest ache with love.

“Hi baby,” he whispered, leaning down towards her stomach. “I’m your daddy.” His soft kiss on her tummy had her damn hormones in overdrive.

She let out a strangled sound that had Azriel looking back at her face with worry. But Elain just tugged him into her arms and let his embrace soothe her. “Sorry—I just wasn’t expecting that,” she offered as an explanation.

His fingers brushed stray tears from her cheeks. “You don’t need to apologize, love. I know this is going to be an adjustment, but I don’t have a single doubt in my mind that we can do this…If you want to, that is.”

Elain realized she hadn’t answered his question before, and he needed to hear her say the words. Though it was clear he wanted this baby, he was still letting her make the decision. And for that, she somehow managed to fall in love with him even more. “I want to be a family,” she said, watching the way the hope in his amber eyes shone like golden rays of sunshine. “You, me,” she told him, bringing her hand up to cradle her stomach. “And this baby.”

The relief she read on his face made every doubt, every fear evaporate. Because he was right, there wasn’t anything they couldn’t do together.

He kissed her again, once, twice, three times. “We’re going to have a baby,” he whispered against her lips.

Elain let out an airy giggle. “I’m so happy, Azriel. You have made me so happy.”

His fingers stroked her cheek; brushed her loose hair behind her ear. “You’ve made me happier than I could ever dream of. I am so incredibly lucky to call you my wife and the mother of my children.”

“I love you, my husband,” she breathed, lips closing the distance between them.

“I love you more, my wife,” he said back, the words tattooing on the very essence of her soul as they embarked on a new path in their lives together.

~~~~~

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wbbpls · 1 month ago

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Platonic Plus One

Chapter 5: Azzi POV

Honestly this whole chapter is me just edging you guys. lmk what y'all think about Azzi's POV and if you want more from her

Azzi has always known Paige is hot. Everyone thinks that. She’s also cute, confident, funny, and...a really good kisser. Like really good. It’s not that Azzi wasn’t interested in boys. They just weren’t interesting. Azzi also isn’t necessarily straight, but she’s never been with a girl to comfortably know otherwise.

Also, have Paige’s eyes always been this blue? Azzi is rubbing sunscreen into Paige’s cheeks, and Paige hasn’t looked away once. With anyone else, this would be so awkward, but with Paige, it just is. “Thanks for remembering sunscreen, Az.”

“Of course, I don’t want my wedding date looking like a tomato in all the photos.” Also, the last time Paige was sunburnt, she wouldn’t let Azzi cuddle her because it hurt too much. Since then, Azzi carries sunscreen around like she’s the one who desperately needs it. “Do you wanna take your clothes off, and I can do you back?”

Paige stands to remove her top and shorts, and she’s wearing a blue bikini. It’s hard not to appreciate Paige’s body, but whenever she wears bikinis, Azzi has to look away consciously and moves back to make space for Paige to sit in front of her. Azzi took her time rubbing the lotion in, feeling the warmth of Paige’s skin.

Azzi rubs harder at Paige’s shoulder to remove some of the visible tension she has there, and she swears she can hear a faint moan from Paige. Maybe Azzi should be more concerned about her best friend making that noise when she touches her, but she is more invested in how to get Paige to do it again.

“Mm, Az, that feels so good.”

“Yeah?” Azzi rubs her hands down to Paige’s hips and lower back. Paige moans slightly louder this time and clenches her eyes closed. Then, she turns over her left shoulder with dilated eyes to look at Azzi.

Azzi’s eyes flicker between her eyes and lips, thinking about how good last night's kiss was. It’s just practice, right? They’re a couple, they’re supposed to kiss. Azzi begins to lean in but is suddenly interrupted by her grandmother. “Azzi, look who just arrived!”

Jonathan is standing awkwardly next to my grandma. “Hey, Azzi. Sup, Paige.” He glances down at Azzi’s hold on Paige with a questioning look.

“Oh, hi!” Azzy is caught off guard by the almost-kiss and realizes she never let go of Paige’s hips.

“Hey man, long time, huh?” Paige shifts to face them more, making her backside shove further into Azzi. She’s going to ignore the fact that she has yet to let go of Paige’s hips.

“Well, I hope you and Jonathon have some quality time to catch up, Azzi. You two really were such a cute couple!”

“Aw, c’mon Grandma Fudd, I’m not cute enough for you?” How does Paige always handle moments under pressure so well?

“Oh dear, you’re the cutest! My apologies, Paige. I just mean, even as friends, they were sweet.”

“Uh, yeah, totally. Hey Az, I’m gonna go get my stuff settled, but if you wanted to hang out tonight, I’d be down.”

“She has a pretty strict bridesmaids schedule to keep to, don’t you, Az?” Paige says confidently while placing her hand on Azzi’s thigh.

“Uh, y-yeah.” Okay, why did that cause heat to pulse through her? “I’ll let you know when we are free of wedding party duties.”

“Cool, cool...see you guys later!” Jonathan and her grandma walked off, leaving the two girls alone.

“Jealous, Bueckers?”

“Pfft, me jealous? Nah!! I’m simply protecting your precious time from your grandma’s matchmaking games.”

“Mhm, sure you were.”

Paige leaned in close, leaving just an inch to close the gap, “I’m pretty sure you’re my girlfriend this week, not his. Unless you don’t want that anymore?”

Her confidence is so unnecessary, yet so effective. “N-no, I want you,” Azzi whispers back.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, Princess.” Paige winks and stands up abruptly. “Aight, so we finna play mermaids now or...?”

Azzi chuckles at her childlike nature and ability to switch up so quickly. “Can I just tan for a bit, Paigey?” It’s not that she doesn’t want to get in the water with Paige; she’s still recovering from their moment. And last night. Last night was just a practice kiss. She shouldn’t be thinking about it so much. Right?

“Laaame. Imma go play basketball with the guys over there, then. I can’t keep sitting.” Paige leaned down to kiss Azzi on the cheek, “Get me when you’re ready to swim, Princess.”

Azzi takes the time by herself to process the last day. She panicked, asking Paige to be her fake girlfriend in desperate relief for a family event to be pleasant. She loves her family, really, but her extended family goes so hard every time they see her. And Paige, well, everything with Paige is just easy. She’s gone on plenty of dates, but nothing feels easy. They don’t pull out the chair or hold every door like Paige does. They don’t pick up on her moods like Paige does. They all force her to think and be on every second. With Paige, she knows she’s taken care of. None of them are Paige.

Maybe that’s why Caroline is always on her about her relationship with Paige. It’s not like she hasn’t thought of it before. Azzi knows they’re closer than most. It’s just always been that way. It’s always been Paige and Azzi. Even if she let herself think about Paige that way, it wouldn’t matter. Paige can have anyone she wants, and sometimes, it feels like everyone wants Paige.

Azzi glances over at Paige playing basketball, absolutely dominating the court as per usual and probably immasculating all the guys there. She is radiating joy and passion in every step. She even makes her trash-talking fun.

One of the guys yells over, “Yo Azzi, how do you put up this girl?”

Azzi laughs, “Right? I deserve an award.”

“Aight baby, I’ll glady give an award later tonight.” Paige smirks with too much pride and then casually makes a 3-pointer. They continue playing for a little longer and Azzi tries to think about anything other than Paige. It’s gotten pretty hot and she’s ready for a swim, so she starts making her way over to Paige only see one of the pool bartenders making her way specifically for Paige. All of them of breathing hard after their workout, but she only bring water for Paige.

“Thanks!” Paige says breathlessly and chugs the water down, yet the girl doesn’t leave. If anything, she’s staring her down. Maybe this place just has really good service?

“Aye no water for us?” One of the boys jokingly says.

“Well you don’t look like that.” The girl says in a sultry tone, looking Paige up and down. Azzi’s whole body tenses at the exchange. Whenever girls come up to flirt with Paige, she usually finds a reason for Paige to be busy, or she just walks away irritated. But something about being her fake girlfriend gives Azzi a little too much confidence.

Azzi walks past the girl, giving her no attention and slides in next to Paige putting one hand on Paige’s abs and the other around her back. “Hey baby, having fun?.” Paige wraps her arm around Azzi’s shoulders naturally.

“Having fun destroying us, yeah.”

The bartender hasn’t left yet and doesn’t seem to care about Azzi’s presence. “Mhm, you’ve been quite enjoyable to watch.”

Paige conveniently ignores her intentions and avoids addressing the flirting. “Yeah basketball is always a fun game to watch.”

“No honey, just you.” Paige gulps audibly, while some of the guys mumble stuff under their breaths backing away when they see Azzi’s overly polite smile.

“Can we help you with something? Or do you sexually harass all the guests?”

“I’m sure if she wasn’t interested she’d say so. The only help I need is from her. I’m Bailey by the way.” She smirks and puts her hand out for Paige to take and Azzi squeezes her hip trying not to blow up on this girl.

“Yeah uh, I’m here with my girlfriend, but thanks for the water.”

“Hmm that’s interesting because according to that guy Jonathon over there ‘your girlfriend’ and him will be having quite the time together tonight. So when she leaves you lonely, I’ll be here.” Now Paige is the one to tense up. “Aight man, chill on my girl. I’m not interested in this shit.”

“It’s okay baby, while she’s alone dreaming of what she wants to do to you tonight, I’ll be the one doing it.” Azzi says with a smirk before kissing Paige’s neck. Paige squeezes Azzi’s hips and her eyes flutter close.

“Ugh, whatever. I’ll be around once you get bored with that.” Bailey says dramatically as she walks away slightly defeated.

They forgot some of the guys were still there until one of them speaks as they walk away, “Not gonna lie dude, that was pretty hot.”

Paige hasn’t taken her eyes off of Azzi, and with a low raspy voice, she says, “Really hot.” Her normally bright blue eyes are dark and dilated again as she looks down at Azzi’s lips. Azzi wants nothing more than for Paige to close the gap between them. Honestly, if Paige made a move, she’s not sure she’d stop her. There have been so many times she thought Paige would make a move, but nothing ever came of it. Like Azzi said, if Paige wanted her, she’d do something about it, right?

Paige moves to put her hand on Azzi’s cheek. “Az...” Azzi moved both hands to grasp Paige’s hips, and they started to inch closer to each other. That is until Jose yells, “PAIGE, STOP MAULING MY SISTER AND COME IN THE POOL!”

The two girls jump apart at the sudden interruption and laugh awkwardly as they make their way to the pool. Paige grabs Azzi’s hand and whispers, “Guess it's time to play mermaids.”

Once in the water, Azzi takes in Paige and her brothers messing around as if they’re her own brothers. The new girlfriend title didn’t seem to change anything with how naturally she fit into the family. If anything, Azzi is starting to realize how odd it is that no one in her family even bats an eye at them together. Her parents took it well, maybe even too well. Even her grandma noticed how “close” they were. So many people have made comments about them.

The bartender, Bailey, walks around the pool, stopping to talk to Jonathon. They both glance over at the girls, obviously talking about what happened earlier. Paige notices Azzi’s discomfort and dives under the water. Suddenly, Azzi feels two arms around her legs, and Paige’s shoulder pushes her into the air. “ALAS, I SHALL SAVE THE PRINCESS FOR A TRUE LOVES KISS!” Azzi grabs on to Paige’s shoulders, trying to balance herself, and fails horribly as she and Paige fall backward into the water. Paige wraps her arms around Azzi, pulling her back up, giggling. “Oh my god, Paige, you’re actually insane.”

“But I saved you from the dragon named Bailey, Az!” Of course, Paige is always in tune with what she’s thinking and jumping in to make it better.

Azzi wraps her arms around Paige’s neck, “Maybe, but you never got the true love’s kiss.”

“Mhm, very important step to officially save you and live happily ever after,” Paige smirks as she looks down at Azzi and moves her left hand to the back of Azzi’s neck.

“Oh yeah, damsel in distress over here.”

To Azzi’s surprise, Paige finally leans in all the way and kisses her. It’s slow and sweet. Paige is in complete control as she fluidly moves her lips against Azzi's. Her tongue swiped across Azzi’s bottom lip, giving Azzi a taste of what she couldn’t have. God, she’s a good kisser. How is it even better than their kiss last night?

Paige pulled away gently. “Was that okay?”

Azzi, still dazed from the kiss, mutters, “Yeah, yeah, totally,” as her pulse quickens, realizing what just happened.

Bailey rolls her eyes and walks back towards the bar while Jonathon tries to look anywhere but the pool. “Well, I think they bought.” Oh, right. They're supposed to be fake dating.

"Yeah, I think so, P."

For a second there, Azzi almost bought it, too.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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dreamdragonkadia · 21 days ago

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As Written Above, So Shall It Be Below Part - II.I Word Count: 4.0k A/N: I'm on a roll with this fic. Feedback, comments, thoughts, and theories are always appreciated! Main Pairing: Rhysand/Reader/Feyre Prev - Next ✦ Ao3

How do you honor a dead Lady?

Prayers?

Fires?

Leaving her favorite pastries by that quiet lake she loved, hoping the scent might somehow reach her across the veil?

For someone as intimately familiar with grief as Azriel was—someone who had walked through death more times than he could count—this grief lodged in his chest in a way nothing else ever had, settled in the same spot as if Rhysand’s mother and sister died all over again.

He’d tried. Mother, he’d tried. For Rhys, who had barely spoken about it again since his return that first day and he told them all what happened. For Cassian, who threw himself into training so violently Az had to pull him out of the ring before he destroyed something—or someone. For Mor, who shut the doors to her chambers for three straight days and only opened them again when he brought her the wine you'd once sworn she’d hoard if the world ended.

But mostly—he tried for you.

He’d imagined what you’d say if you saw them unraveling.

“If you even dare let this court fall to pieces because I kicked the bucket, I’ll come back from the dead just to stab every one of you.”

You’d meant it, too. Gods, he could see you—hands on your hips, that haughty smirk on your face, as if death was nothing more than an inconvenience you’d eventually bully into submission.

So he gave himself a week. One week to mourn you.

Seven days of slipping into silence. Of flying to the places you used to haunt—the library balcony, the cliffs above the sea, the roof of the Court of Nightmares where you’d once dragged him for “peace and quiet” while you spied on the drama unfolding below.

You’d grin over the rim of your cup and say, “Spymaster, ShadowSinger, Prince of Brooding—gods help us if they knew you liked lavender tarts.”

He didn’t like them. Not really.

He just liked that you did.

And then a week turned into two. And then two into two months.

And it started to settle in. Not the kind of grief that screams and breaks. But the kind that lingers. That lives in the silence after someone says something funny and you turn, ready to share it with them—only to remember they’re not there.

That was the worst of it.

Because no one else had filled the space you left behind.

Not for Azriel.

Who else would he share the wildest Court gossip with and not feel ridiculous doing it? Who else would wink at him across a room, raise an eyebrow, and silently convey every sarcastic thought in your head before he’d even opened his mouth?

He didn’t tell anyone else what he learned now—not the juicy things, not the petty things. Only Amren asked. Because Amren knew.

She’d raise an eyebrow and mutter, “She would’ve loved this,” when he muttered some ridiculous tale of scandal from Hewn City.

And Az would just grunt, trying not to let it show that the silence after hurt more than the story itself.

There had been afternoons—hundreds of them, if he let himself count—when the two of you had lounged on sun-warmed balconies or curled in shadowy corners of the House of Wind, sipping tea and wine and trading secrets like coins. You, barefoot in your silk robes, legs tucked beneath you with all the elegance of a Queen and none of the formality. Him, still in leathers, shadows clinging to his shoulders, pretending to be uninterested in your antics—though it was always him who lingered longest.

“You’re the only male I trust not to ruin my tea set,” you’d teased once, swirling your cup like it held far more than tea.

“That’s because Cassian shattered three,” he’d muttered.

“And Rhys poured wine in the sugar jar.”

“He said it was an experiment.”

“He said it was romantic.”

You both had laughed.

And now… you were gone.

Gone so completely, so violently, without fanfare or warning, that perhaps he’d never known how to grieve you properly. That perhaps none of them had. The Inner Circle had fought wars and monsters, had faced a thousand different versions of sorrow.

You were not meant to be one of the losses.

Even Rhys, who had twenty years to process, and still nearly lost himself to the thought of it. The rest of them had two months to accept the silence.

Two months to unlearn the sound of your voice in rooms you once filled.

Azriel had tried to make peace with it. For your sake. For the court’s.

He told himself you'd want them to move forward, to keep going, to protect what mattered.

And yet—when the High Lady was first brought to the Night Court, half-wild and afraid, his very first thought wasn’t of how to secure her help or assess her power.

It was to find The Lady of the Night.

To ask how to make her feel more welcome.

Because it had always been you who knew what to say to strangers. You who could read a room in a single glance, then wield your words with surgical precision or devastating kindness. You who saw through armor better than anyone, even him.

But you weren’t there.

He hadn’t wanted Feyre to feel like a replacement. Hadn’t wanted her to feel the shadow of you hanging over her shoulder. So he’d said nothing. They had said nothing. He thought they all would remain silent until Rhysand chose to tell her.

But it hadn’t been Rhys.

It had been Mor.

She’d told Feyre one night, unprompted, in front of a portrait in that same soft fierceness she always used when talking about people she loved. Azriel hadn’t been there when it happened, but he knew the way Mor would’ve spoken—honest, reverent, a little sad around the edges.

And Feyre…

She hadn’t flinched from it.

Hadn’t been made smaller by your memory. She’d simply taken it in, let it settle, and carried it with grace.

And somehow, after that, something shifted.

Azriel found a strange sense of peace in Feyre—not because she filled the space you left, but because she never tried to.

Helping her train, teaching her to fly, guiding her through the endless frustration of learning to navigate her new body—it gave him purpose. A way to be useful again.

And maybe, in some quiet way, it helped him mourn.

And it hadn’t been Cassian or Amren that Feyre went to after her return from spring. Once she was sure her sisters were safe.

It had been him.

She found him on the balcony just before dawn, the wind curling through his wings. Her steps had been cautious, not hesitant—but respectful.

“I’m sorry,” she had said softly, voice barely louder than the wind.

And Azriel had known, without asking, what she meant.

She wasn’t apologizing for being High Lady.

She was apologizing for not discussing the marriage with them.

For stepping into a space they once imagined belonged to you.

But it was never about one replacing the other.

You were the Last Lady of the Night. That was what Amren still called without apology. That title—your title—had not been stripped or passed on. Feyre was their High Lady. Rhysand’s mate. The rightful ruler of a court she helped save.

There was no resentment in Azriel. No bitterness. No jealousy.

He had never once blamed Rhysand. Never blamed Feyre.

A part of him, even, was glad. Genuinely. That Rhys could know happiness. That the court could be rebuilt stronger after the war. That Feyre had brought them light.

And Feyre… She had never tried to erase you. She encouraged them to speak of you when they could. When they needed. She had looked him in the eye that morning and said, “She mattered to all of you. I would never ask you to pretend she didn’t.”

It had stunned him, how simply she understood.

He hadn’t known what to say at first. The words weren’t there, not fully formed. But eventually, as the sun began to crest the horizon, he found himself murmuring,

“You two would’ve balanced each other. Personalities, I mean.”

Feyre had smiled—small, sad, knowing.

Maybe that’s why he’d told her.

Why the next words slipped out before he had time to second-guess them.

“Did Rhys tell you she was older than us?”

Feyre blinked, clearly not expecting him to share anything more.

“No,” she said gently.

“The betrothal contract was signed when Rhys was eight. She was seventeen. We met her for the first time when Rhys was twelve. The last High Lord finally stopped stalling and brought her to the Illyrian camps.”

He could still remember that day. Every detail.

You’d walked into the training ring like you didn’t care that the snow was half-melted or that mud clung to your boots. Like you didn’t notice the way every male there had gone silent the moment you appeared.

You’d been beautiful, of course. All High Fae were, to some degree—but you had something else. That stillness. That grace. That regality that made even Cassian shut his mouth. For a moment, at least.

Dangerous. Cold. Composed.

Azriel had expected you to be like the others—distant, stiff, too proud to look twice at a camp full of winged brutes.

And then you’d tilted your head, looked straight at Cassian, and said:

“You look like trouble.”

It had startled a laugh out of Rhysand. Cassian had puffed up with mock offense.

And you had just smiled—not cold, not haughty. Just amused. Like you’d already decided they weren’t beneath you. Like you’d seen something in them worth noticing.

“Rhys’s mother hated the arrangement,” he added after a beat. “Wouldn’t let him return to Velaris long enough to meet her properly if she could help it. Kept hoping it would all fall apart. At first at least.”

It hadn’t been a secret—not really.

Everyone knew the former Lady of the Night Court had resented the match, no matter how politically smart it had been. But politics had never impressed her much, and she hadn’t liked the idea of someone being chosen for her son. Especially someone she hadn’t approved of herself.

Cassian had reminded you of that fact every couple of years—usually when you teased him too hard or made him suffer through another formal event in polished armor and a tight cravat. He’d elbow you in the ribs and mutter, “You know, you weren’t even supposed to stick around.”

And you—Mother, you’d grin like you’d just won a war. A smug, feral little thing, flashing teeth and mischief and pride.

“But guess who ended up being her favorite?” you’d sing-song, sticking your tongue out at him with no regard for rank or dignity.

Azriel didn’t smile, not now, but the memory lit in his chest like an ember.

It wasn’t his story to tell—not the whole of it. Not the reasons why you’d become the Lady of the Night long before you ever officially wore the title.

Not how, after the first meeting, you had been the one winnowing in and out under High Lord orders. Quietly. Efficiently.

To check in.

To report back.

To observe.

You’d hated it. Gods, how you’d hated it.

Not the court, not the males—just the cold.

You made that fact perfectly clear, too. Never subtle, not with the way you bundled yourself in thick furs and spelled your boots to be self-heating. Rhys’s little sister, Estelle, had been the one to rat you out—tugging on Azriel’s arm one winter morning and whispering with a conspiratorial smile, “She says she’d rather be thrown in a volcano than have to watch another snowstorm roll through. Don’t tell her I told you.”

But Estelle had loved you. You’d visit her as often as you were allowed. She’d wanted to know her brother’s betrothed, had insisted.

And so you’d come. Again and again.

Winnowing through snowstorms with ice in your hair and a scowl on your face, dragging news and updates and biting sarcasm behind you like a cloak. You never complained directly—not in front of Rhys, at least—but Azriel remembered the way your hands never left your coat, the way your nose was always red, and how your curses in the cold became increasingly creative with each visit.

And still, you came.

Again and again.

And somewhere between those reluctant visits and those scouting trips into Illyria, between the way you learned every name in the camp and the way you watched their sparring matches with arms crossed and eyes noting details, you stopped being the political stranger they were told to tolerate…

And started becoming theirs.

The shift was subtle. Gradual. The kind of change that only makes sense in hindsight.

And maybe it became undeniable the first time Rhys’s mother had brought out her sewing kit one evening and began to stitch.

No one had dared ask at first.

But the truth slipped out in the way she muttered about “proper materials” for Illyrian winters and how “that girl’s coats are utterly useless.”

She didn’t say your name. She didn’t have to.

Because the next time you arrived, your coat had been replaced with one of her making. Lined with thick black velvet, buttons enchanted against frostbite, and seams so tight they wouldn’t let the wind through if it begged.

And she’d hovered. Gods, she’d hovered. Adjusting the collar. Tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with surprising gentleness. Muttering about how "you’d catch your death otherwise."

Dotting on you like a mother hen.

And that was when they knew—when they all knew—that she had accepted it.

That she had accepted you.

Not because she’d been told to. Not because of a contract.

But because somewhere in those snow-covered camps and quiet exchanges, you’d become real to her.

Not a title. Not a duty. Someone.

And later when Rhys turned eighteen, it became clear just how deep that shift had settled.

His mother had told him, without room for argument, that the first dance of his birthday celebration would go to his betrothed. To you.

And no one questioned it. Not Rhys. Not Cassian. Not Azriel.

Because by then, there was no doubt.

You’d become a part of them.

And when the High Lord had grown fearful—had split Azriel from his brother to keep the court’s weapons separate—it was you he worked with most.

He had found something like peace in telling Feyre little things about you in passing. Letting himself accept the truth of your absence.

Until the night Mor found him.

She’d come to the lake just outside Velaris, breathless and pale, and spoken your name. Just once.

It was all it took.

And then—Elain’s words. The portrait. The vision. The way Mor’s voice trembled when she said, "Say I’m wrong. Say it’s impossible."

Azriel had listened to it all, stone-faced and silent.

And though he hadn’t said it aloud—hadn’t needed to—the stillness of his shadows, the way they pulled closer, tighter, was answer enough.

He hadn’t denied it.

Because deep down, in the quiet places even he rarely acknowledged…

He had wondered, too.

And when Mor finally whispered, “If there’s even a chance…”

He’d looked out over the water, exhaled slowly—

And said, “There’s a rumor.”

It had started during his investigation of the mortal queens, a sliver of information buried beneath layers of lies and manipulation. At the time, it had seemed like just another tactic—something Hybern had planted to distract, to confuse, to throw their enemies into disarray. And yet… something about it had stuck with him.

And then, during the battle, they arrived.

Fae who had once been marked as fallen. As lost. As dead.

They came with Vassa, the mortal queen cloaked in fire, who walked beside those who should not have walked at all.

Azriel had watched them enter the camp, watched the way they held themselves—too quiet, too careful. Watched the way their eyes scanned the crowd, not searching for allies, but avoiding the ones who might recognize what they weren’t saying.

He had approached.

Asked the questions he wasn’t sure he was ready to have answered.

And they had only looked at him. Not with pity. Not with cruelty.

Just silence.

Intentional silence.

The kind that made his shadows curl tighter around him. The kind that said more than words ever could.

They knew something.

And none of them would speak.

But Azriel had seen it—that flicker of recognition, so brief most would’ve missed it. The twitch in one Fae’s mouth when your name passed his lips. The way another avoided his eyes, too quick to excuse herself. And the third—the one who glanced toward the sea like it might reveal a truth he wasn’t brave enough to say aloud. It had been subtle, careful. But not careful enough. He was the Shadowsinger. He noticed what others didn’t. And what he saw in those silences was enough.

Mor had not brought it up again. He hadn’t told a soul. And no one had questioned him when he said there were rumors to follow, things that didn’t quite add up, stories left unfinished in the aftermath of war. No one asked what those rumors were.

It had taken longer than he expected to slip past the magical defenses encasing the borders of the Kingdom of Scythia. Not human-made, not even new. These were old wards—woven with purpose, with age, with a kind of knowing only Fae magic possessed. The kind meant to keep eyes like his away. And it almost did. But Azriel was patient. Shadows knew how to wait. And so did he.

For a time, he only observed. Let his shadows weave through the marketplace, the temples, the gardens and palaces, listening as if the air itself might confess something. There were Fae here, that much was clear—some from every court, mingling with humans as if no war had ever passed between them. Comfortable. Settled. As though the divisions that had carved their world in two had never mattered here. Yet no one spoke of you directly. Not by name.

There were whispers, though. Talks of their Lady among Vassa’s inner circle—one not bound by title or bloodline. A woman whose voice could silence a room, who walked through fire and shadow without blinking. Azriel almost left then. The information was valuable, more than enough to return with. Something Rhys needed to know. And he had almost turned away, until he felt it.

It wasn’t a word. Not a voice in his mind. It was... a sensation. Younger. Curious. Like being watched by a presence—one that felt oddly familiar, like catching a note of a song you hadn’t heard a full tune for. The echo of Rhysand’s magic—but it wasn’t him. It was something else. Someone else. And then—just like that—it was gone. Cut off.

Still, he waited. Another three days. And on the third, the court began to shift. New enchantments. New wards. The Dawn Court was coming. The castle readied itself for guests, and the magic in the walls responded accordingly. And then—his shadows stirred.

Familiar magic moved through the air, brushing against him like a sigh through silk. Recognition struck so fast he didn’t have time to think, only feel. His shadows peeled away from him, darting into the darkness like hounds catching a scent, and he didn’t stop them.

He moved through the palace like smoke, silent and unseen, his footsteps swallowed by stone and darkness. He didn’t question where he was going. His shadows had found something.

Barefoot in the garden. Face tilted to the stars as if they were telling a story. The world so still besides the shadows that flickered across your shoulders.

And Azriel… he couldn’t breathe.

Couldn’t think.

The crushing weight in his chest returned with a vengeance—as if he was being told for the first time all over again that you were gone. Only now, that grief was warping, twisting—turning into something too vast to name.

You were here.

He stepped forward, his voice catching somewhere between disbelief and inevitability, the words slipping out of him like they had waited for permission.

“You’re alive.”

Then he dropped. One knee to the earth, as if his body remembered how to honor you before his mind could catch up. It wasn’t planned—it was instinct. Respect. Reverence. The kind of devotion that couldn’t be shaken by time or distance or death. His gaze fixed on the ground, refusing to lift, because if he looked up… if he looked at you and you weren’t really there, if this was some cruel trick—he wasn’t sure he’d recover.

The garden was quiet, save for the whisper of leaves.

Then, gently, the grass shifted in front of him. A whisper of fabric stirred in the breeze, and he caught sight of the hem of a dark nightdress. Then, a hand. Gentle. Warm. Fingers curling over his shoulder with a tenderness that shattered something deep in his chest.

Your voice broke softly across the silence.

“…Hello, Azriel.”

It cracked at the edges, like it wasn’t used to forming his name. Like it hurt to say it.

“It’s been too long.”

And then—just like that—you were crying.

He heard it in the tremble of your breath, felt it in the way your hand trembled against him. His own eyes burned, the tears rising before he could stop them. He looked up—finally, truly looked—and saw you. Not a dream. Not a shadow. Not a ghost.

You.

And he wasn’t sure if it was you who moved first or him. Only that, suddenly, he was in your arms, or you were in his, and none of it mattered. There was no hesitation, no decorum, no court or duty. Just the crushing, desperate ache of reunion.

You clung to each other beneath the garden’s starlit hush, your breaths unsteady, your bodies shaking—not from fear or cold, but from the sheer force of emotion neither of you could name. It wasn’t grace. It wasn’t beauty. It was raw, the kind of reunion that cracked open the places you thought had long since scarred over.

And for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, Azriel’s wings dropped.

They sagged behind him, the powerful muscles trembling too hard to hold them aloft. His wings touched the ground—an unforgivable gesture for any Illyrian, a sign of exhaustion, defeat, or despair. But right now, he didn’t care.

But then—your hands were on his chest, gently but urgently pushing back. Not far, just enough to look at him. And he saw it then—the fear that had been buried beneath the tears, beneath the relief.

“You can’t tell.”

The words spilled past your lips in a whisper—rushed, desperate. Your eyes searched his face like they already knew the battle that might follow.

“You can’t tell anyone,” you breathed, voice cracking. “I know what I’m asking, I know I have no right anymore, I’m not your Lady—”

He stiffened, his hands still loosely on your arms, his shadows curling tight behind him.

You were wrong. So deeply, devastatingly wrong.

You were still his Lady.

You were still theirs.

He opened his mouth to tell you just that. To remind you who you were. Who you still were, even now—

“Mama?”

A small, sleepy voice carried into the stillness.

Azriel froze.

He turned, slowly, as if moving too fast would make the sound vanish.

And there—emerging from the shadows of a pillar, rubbing her eyes with tiny fists—was a little girl.

And for a moment, for a heartbeat that seemed to shatter everything he thought he understood, he thought he was looking at a baby version of Estelle.

But no—no, not quite. The features were younger. Softer. But so unmistakably familiar it felt like being knocked breathless.

Rhysand.

It was Rhysand’s face—his High Lord’s face, down to the curve of the cheekbones, the deep violet eyes blinking up at him with sleep-heavy curiosity.

She smiled at him—gentle, like he was something soft and safe.

“Friend? Family?”

And Azriel understood.

Understood everything.

#✨️by yours truly✨️#acotar #a court of thorns and roses reader insert #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #rhys x reader #rhysand #rhysand x reader #acotar x reader #feyre x reader #feyre archeron #as written above so shall it be below #awassibb #acotar series #azriel acotar

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acourtofquietdreamers · 5 months ago

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Azriel Week Day 4: Paid Time Off

𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝙧𝙖𝙯𝙤𝙧-𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙥 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙨𝙡𝙞𝙘𝙚𝙙 𝙝𝙞𝙢 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘸 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘵𝘰 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘪𝘬𝘦. 𝘛𝘰𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙨 𝙡𝙚𝙛𝙩 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙠𝙞�� 𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝙥𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙖𝙪𝙩 𝙖𝙘𝙧𝙤𝙨𝙨 𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙗𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙨. 𝘚𝘰 𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘭𝘦𝘱𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘰𝘥𝘺 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘶𝘵, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘴.

…

𝘈𝘻𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘭 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘴𝘬 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘰𝘹 𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵𝘭𝘺, "𝘗𝘶𝘵 𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘮𝘦?" 𝗛𝗶𝘀 𝗵𝗲𝗮𝗱 𝘄𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗾𝘂𝗶𝗲𝘁.

Art by the sweet and talented sunshinecovey_ on instagram and commissioned by me 🦇🌸

In Azriel’s bonus chapter, we learn he’s been sleeping terribly because of his feelings for Elain, but when Elain asked him to put her necklace on, his head went quiet. I think we’ll see Azriel finally get a restful sleep once he’s able to sleep next to the woman he’s been wanting and needing for over a year now. The woman who caused those razor sharp thoughts in his head to quiet at the prospect of being close to her.

Once they finally act on their feelings, I think there’s nothing Az would rather do on his time off than spend time with Elain (and catch up on his sleep 😅). We already saw hints of this when he chose to spend time with her in the garden or stay up with her at 3am to talk while everyone else went to bed 💗

Please do not repost without permission. Likes and reblogs are appreciated!

Find this art on instagram here!

@azrielappreciationweek

#pro elriel #elriel #pro elain #pro azriel #azriel shadowsinger #elain x azriel #acotar #acotar fanart #azriel appreciation week #azriel week #my comms

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moosesarecute · 5 months ago

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Song of the Wind part 2

Part 1 Part 3

Masterlist

“What do you mean you met your mate?”

Azriel almost flinched at his brother’s loud voice.

“When? How? Where?” Cassian continued just as loud. “And why haven’t you told me before?”

Azriel really appreciated his brother’s excitement, but he was simply too loud for him.

“Calm down Cassian,” Rhys luckily felt similarly. “But we would like to know, if you’d like to tell us.”

Azriel was super excited that he met his mate, but he’s quite worried he scared you away.

It had been two months since the attack on Adriata, which meant that you had been on his mind for every calm moment the past two months.

But he had to control himself and stay away so that you would be safe in the war. But now that the war was over, he found it harder and harder to stay away.

“I flew her to the palace during the attack on Adriata,” Az explained.

Cassian gaped at him.

“Two months?! You have known for two months and you didn’t tell me?”

This time, both Azriel and Rhysand flinched at Cassian’s yelling. Azriel just nodded at him.

“Have you any contact with her?” Rhys asked him.

Azriel shook his head this time and let out a sigh. How he would have loved to have contact with you. To see you and your adorable face again.

“We’ll have to change that then.”

“I thought I would let her come to me. I fear I scared her away,” Azriel explained.

“I’m sure you didn’t,” Cassian reassured him.

“We can send a letter to Tarquin or Varian and ask if they knows her. What’s her name?”

“Y/N,” Azriel said and he couldn’t hold back the big smile that grew on his face. Saying your name aloud was so amazing. He felt such a comforting feeling spreading through his body.

A laugh from Rhys pulled him from his thoughts. Cassian punched him in his arm.

“You were even worse when you first told us about Feyre,” he said.

“Okay okay, but I’ll send them a letter today,” Rhys said.

Azriel felt extremely excited at the thought of seeing you again.

Every time Azriel saw Rhys he wanted to ask him if his letter had been answered. However, he also tried to act stoic and neutral, so he never actually did ask him.

Then, a week after the letter was send, they had gotten an answer.

Azriel was at family dinner with his entire family when Rhys walked in with a letter in his hand.

Azriel felt his heartbeat rising, but he decided to stay calm until Rhys had given him the letter.

“Azriel, I have a letter for yo-,” Rhys stopped speaking as Azriel’s shadows ripped the letter out of his hand and dumped the letter in Azriel’s lap.

Azriel felt slightly embarrassed by his feelings, and as Cassian and Rhysand started laughing, he only felt worse.

“What’s going on?” Mor asked and Feyre looked just as confused.

Azriel felt surprised as he realized Feyre didn’t know. When he decided to tell Rhys about his mate, he sort of assumed that would be telling Feyre too.

Cass and Rhys looked at him with hopeful eyes. They wanted him to tell them, but it was his choice.

He looked once more over at Mor and Feyre.

“I found my mate,” he said and continued speaking even though both the females let out surprised gasps. “She’s from Summer, so we sent Tarquin and Varian letters to ask if they know her.”

If was a little bit of silence before Mor spoke.

“What are you waiting for? Open the letter then!”

Az let out a small smile and was about to pick up the letter when his shadows did it before him and ripped up the letter.

They pushed the letter into his face and he took the letter before he waved the shadows away from it face.

Hello, Azriel.

I’m happy to hear you’ve survived the war.

It’s nice to hear that you’re looking for me. I have to admit, I’ve been hoping to hear from the ever since we met.

I’m relieved to know that the mating bond have snapped for you to. And I have to say that I have been thinking about you, a lot.

My mother and brother wishes to meet you. I’m afraid that they’re quite conservative when it comes to dating and that they expect propper courting after Summer-standards.

I hope that you’ll come to dinner next Friday.

Sincerely,

Y/N

Azriel felt his throat dry up at your words. He also felt his heart go crazy, felt himself fall in love with your handwriting and the need to hold his shadows close so that they wouldn’t show all his emotions by going crazy swirling through the entire room.

“What did he say?” Cassian asked.

“It was from Y/N. I’m invited to dinner with her family next Friday,” he rasped. His throat was too dry to speak normally. “She also wrote that her family is quite conservative and that they expect a proper courting after Summer Court standards.”

“First of all, you’ll need a chaperone,” Varian explained. “Someone who’ll bring out your best qualities and make sure to keep a civil and respectful atmosphere.”

Civil and respectful atmosphere? Not Cassian then, not that he could have gone either way, being banned form Summer.

He couldn’t bring Mor, that was just wrong. Bringing Rhys or Amren felt to intimidating.

“Feyre?” he asked and Varian agreed.

“You’ll need to bring flowers to her mother and call her mother and brother madam and sir. You shouldn’t be in alone in the same room as her and you have too be extremely polite. Ask if you can help with anything and compliment the food.”

Azriel nodded and tried to remember every detail Varian gave him.

“And I would recommend not wearing anything black.”

“You look great, Az,” Feyre tried to comfort him.

He stood in the entrance of the River House and tried to find a way he felt comfortable in his Summer clothes.

He wore a cream colored linen shirt and blue linen pants. The lightness of his clothes made him uncomfortable, but he wanted to impress you.

Feyre wore a summer dress. She looked relaxed and happy. Azriel wished he could take some of her calmness.

“Ready to go?” She asked.

Azriel nodded, even though he felt more nervous than he had ever before.

He picked up the flowers for your mother and went over to Feyre. She winnowed them to your home. You had explained the way in your letters.

It was a small house with a big blooming garden. It was also in a very different neighborhood than where he had found yon during the attack on Adriata.

“Hallo,” a deep voice sounded from the front door of the house. Your brother, Azriel realized. “Welcome to our home.”

“Thank you for the invitation,” Feyre replied with a bright smile.

“I’m Mateo, Y/N’s brother,” he said. “Come in, please.”

Azriel let Feyre walk in before him. Both as a sign that he respected her, but also because he was freaking terrified and needed her to go first.

They walked inside and removed their shoes. Mateo showed the way to the dining room. That’s when he first saw you.

Last time he had seen you, your face and body was covered with fear. This time, he only saw beauty.

You glowed in a pretty light blue dress and your hair had different kinds of flowers in it. He felt his knees weaken a little and he ended up hiding his shadows completely to keep them from covering you.

You stood a few steps behind your mother. Both of you were smiling brightly.

“Good afternoon,” your mother said. “We’ve been looking forwards to your visit.”

“Thank you so much for inviting us,” Feyre said and moved slightly to the side so that Azriel could move towards you and your mother.

“We’re very grateful for your invitation, madam,” Azriel said. He got surprised by the shakiness in his voice. He tried to shake away his stress and gave your mother the flowers.

“Thank you very much, Azriel,” your mother spoke and Azriel felt so relieved.

Your mother then moved slightly to the side so that you stood right before him.

He had to hold back the urge to hug you. To feel your body against his once more.

You made a small curtesy and Azriel responded with a small bow, just as Varian had learned him.

As you stood up, he lifted his hand and you put your own upon his. He felt the warmth of your hand and he struggled to think about anything that wasn’t you and your hand.

His eyes met yours and he felt himself get lost. They looked so peaceful and bright.

Suddenly, you moved your gaze from him towards the table and then back.

Azriel’s eyes widened a little, before he sprung into action. He couldn’t fail this quickly.

He led you towards the dining table and only let go of your hand when he pulled out a chair for you to sit in. You sat down and he helped you push the chair closer to the table.

He checked the point of his mental checklist and tried to remember what he was supposed to do next. But then he smelled you.

Your scent filled his entire nose and mind. He closed his mouth that he didn’t realize was open, to prevent it from drooling. He felt his wings almost slump to the ground at the comfort he felt from your scent.

Feyre made a small sound behind him and pulled him back from his daydreaming.

Your mother! He was supposed to help your mother to the table.

He straightened his back and tightened his wings, before he made his way towards your mother.

She gave him a little smile, her eyes almost looked full of pity.

Azriel had failed, hadn’t he?

Azriel seated your mother as Mateo helped Feyre. Then, Azriel and Mateo sat down last.

The food was already at the table and Mateo and your mother filled their plates first, before Azriel and Feyre got food and lastly you. It was some sort of special tradition.

“So Azriel, what do you do?” Mateo asked you.

Azriel, who had just taken a mouthful of food, hurried to swallow before he answered. He felt his tongue and throat burn from the heat of the food.

“I’m the spymaster of the Night Court,” Azriel explained.

“That doesn’t sound safe. Are you gone often?”

“I have periods where I’m gone a lot,” he answered. His voice faltered more and more. He really wanted to impress you, even though he was sure your mother already disapproved. He picked up his cup, hoping water would help him sound less stressed.

“Will you leave less when you become a father?” Was Mateo’s next question.

Azriel chocked on his water.

“Mateo!” You exclaimed. Your eyes were wide.

Azriel drew a nervous breath.

“I would definitely give a lot of the work I do now to my spies, but I’m afraid I would still need to leave a little for the more important missions.”

Mateo nodded, he seemed almost happy with his answer.

“Would you live here or in the Night Court?”

Azriel had luckily prepared to answer that question.

“I would prepare to stay in Velaris with my family, but I would be open to live here as well.”

“Y/N?” He asked next.

“I wouldn’t mind living in the Night Court,” you said and Azriel felt himself smile. He had imagined the two of you in Velaris so many times. He loved to think it would happen eventually.

Mateo continued the questioning throughout the dinner. Some questions for him and some for Feyre.

“Thank you for a delicious meal,” Azriel said as he thought all of you had finished eating.

That’s when he saw your mother still held her fork in her hand.

He felt the need to slump his shoulders in disappointment, but he kept them up. He felt like he had failed everything this evening. He forgot to help your mother to the table, he choked and answered poorly to your brother’s questions, he didn’t call your brother sir even once and he spoke before everyone was done eating.

His heart was beating so loudly in his chest as he bowed goodbye to you. A small voice inside his head told him to look closely at you. To look at your adorable cheeks, your bright eyes and your soft hair. Because, he wasn’t sure your mother and brother would ever let him as you again.

He kissed your mother’s hand and gave your brother a solid handshake as a goodbye.

Feyre led the way out of the house and Azriel felt himself breathing calmer in the summer air.

They stepped into the small garden and were making their way out of your home, when a voice stopped them.

“Wait!”

Azriel has never turned around faster than when he heard your voice. He, the spymaster of the Night Court, almost lost his balance from the spin.

You stopped right in front of him.

“You did really well. They’re really happy,” you said to him.

He was sure he gaped at you. How could he have done a good job when he failed so much?

“Thank you,” he said back, even though he didn’t believe you.

You then shifted your gaze and looked at Feyre. Azriel turned his head and watched as Feyre turned around.

He looked back at you and then you stood up at your toes and kissed his left cheek.

The small action made him lose all control. Suddenly his shadows got loose from his no longer strong grip and they started playing with your hair and stroking your cheeks. It was like they were kissing your cheek as well.

You laughed a little.

“I’ll se you soon, Azriel,” you said and walked back inside.

Azriel had to pull his shadows to the opposite direction to prevent them from following you

“I never knew you could be that flustered,” Feyre said.

“Shut up,” he muttered back through his giant smile.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

#acotar #azriel #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger

386 notes · View notes

pbaz7 · 4 months ago

Text

CROSSING THE LINE — PART SIX ♡

paige x azzi

warning: explicit language, sexual content

word count: 11.3k

A/N: Alright so this is long as hell 😭. Like I was saying earlier the spicy scene is a little detailed so be prepared for that. If you recognize the outfits I mentioned for their date you know they both looked good as hell in them lol. The comments and live reactions everyone leaves after they read makes my day so please keep it up!

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December 2023

Paige and Azzi had spent the last few weeks navigating the complexities of their new dynamic. It wasn’t exactly a smooth transition, but it wasn’t a complete disaster either. Their conversations, jokes, and banter came back effortlessly, as though no time had passed. But, now there was an added layer of tension in each interaction that they both struggled to ignore.

They had crossed the line, and the memory of it lingered on both of their minds constantly. Laying in one another’s beds all the time or sharing a quick or playful touch carried a tension that hadn’t been there before Halloween. So they were both trying to find their footing in this uncharted territory.

Despite the fact that they both clearly wanted to go there again, they agreed they needed to take time to fully trust one another and build their foundation before jumping into something. Paige had to learn to trust that Azzi wasn’t going to just up and leave, she had to learn how to allow herself to be with someone. Azzi had to trust that Paige was genuinely in it for the long haul, not the old Paige who would get bored and discard her like a fleeting hookup. The agreement seemed reasonable, even necessary. But despite their best intentions, they found themselves slipping up all the time.

One of the first times happened after practice. They were lounging casually in Paige’s room, a routine born out of habit and comfort because Paige swore her bed was more comfortable. Azzi’s leg was thrown over Paige’s as Paige sat up, massaging out the lingering soreness from the last road game. Azzi’s old injury from her time at UMD still had a way of acting up sometimes, and Paige, being a good ‘teammate,’ insisted on helping every time.

“I still don’t get how this keeps happening,” Paige said, pressing her thumbs into the muscle just above Azzi’s knee. Her brow slightly furrowed in concentration as she continued to apply firm pressure. “You’ve been so good with your recovery lately.”

Azzi shrugged lightly, her head resting back against the headboard. “Guess my body didn’t get the memo about the long plane ride.”

Paige huffed a small laugh. “Well, lucky for you, I’m basically a pro at this now.” Her hands worked skillfully over Azzi’s leg, her fingers kneading the muscle with a mix of care and precision.

Azzi let out a quiet hum of appreciation. “Mm. You are really good at this.”

Paige smirked, her eyes flicking up to meet Azzi’s briefly. “I’m just good with my hands,” she replied smoothly, her tone teasing but carrying a hint of pride.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Yeah trust me I remember.”

The words lingered between them, heavy just as Azzi intended. Paige kept her focus on Azzi’s leg, but the silence spoke volumes, the air between them a little thick with tension.

Azzi broke it first, her voice soft but pointed. “You tense up every time I hint at us having sex, you know.”

Paige blinked, her hands faltering for a moment before continuing. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She said, feigning confusion.

Azzi’s gaze stayed steady. “You know what I’m talking about.” Her tone was light, but there was a seriousness beneath it.

Paige swallowed hard, her hands resuming their work as she focused intently on Azzi’s knee which was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. “You’re imagining things,” she muttered. “Maybe one of those dreams of yours was too detailed Az.”

Azzi chuckled softly, tilting her head to the side as she studied Paige. “Am I?” she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. “Because I seem to remember you were very, very thorough.”

Paige, usually brimming with confidence that bordered on cocky, faltered slightly, her usual composure slipping. “You’re insane,” she muttered, shaking her head, though a faint flush crept up her neck.

Azzi’s lips curved into a smirk as she leaned back against the headboard, completely at ease. “Right. My mistake,” she said smoothly, her eyes locking with Paige’s deliberately. Her voice dropped slightly, taking on a warmth that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine. “But seriously though, don’t stop. It feels so good.”

Clearing her throat, Paige tried to play it off. “You’re crazy,” she muttered, focusing her attention back on Azzi’s knee.

“You started it,” Azzi countered, her voice light but tinged with something Paige couldn’t place.

Paige let out a small laugh, shaking her head. “Fair enough.” She adjusted her grip, her thumbs pressing into a particularly tight spot.

The sound that escaped Azzi was too close to something Paige had heard in an entirely different context. The sound sent a jolt through her, and she froze for a moment, her hands stilling against Azzi’s leg.

Paige glanced up, her pupils now slightly dilated as her eyes locked onto Azzi’s. The look Azzi gave her was steady, unflinching, but there was something in it that made Paige’s pulse quicken. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry, and quickly looked away.

“I, uh… I need water,” Paige mumbled, already shifting Azzi’s leg to stand.

Before she could move, Azzi’s hand reached out, wrapping gently around her wrist. “Wait,” Azzi said softly, her tone was calm but insistent.

Paige hesitated, her gaze flicking to where Azzi’s fingers held her. She could feel the warmth of Azzi’s touch, the quiet undeniable firmness in the gesture. Slowly, Paige looked back at her, her expression slightly guarded.

“Azzi…” Paige said, her voice low, her tone almost a warning.

Azzi didn’t let go. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied Paige’s face. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“Doing what?” Paige asked, the slight waver in her voice betraying her.

“Run,” Azzi said simply, her voice steady but laced with meaning. “Every time things get… interesting…you find an excuse to leave.”

Paige blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “I’m not running,” she protested weakly, though even she didn’t believe the words.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Then stay.”

The challenge in Azzi’s voice was clear, and it made Paige’s stomach flip. She opened her mouth to respond but found she didn’t have the words.

Azzi’s grip on her wrist tightened slightly, enough to pull Paige forward, closer to her on the bed. Paige could see the resolve in her eyes, the quiet determination that didn’t really leave room for disagreement. Then, without warning, Azzi tugged her closer, closing the distance between them. The moment their lips touched everything seemed to pause. A stillness that made Paige’s heart skip before it began racing.

So Paige froze at first, her mind running a dozen directions and a dozen scenarios, but then Azzi’s arms wrapped around her neck, tugging her deeper into the kiss as her hands wrapped softly around the nape of her neck. It wasn’t rushed, but it was intense, as if Azzi was pulling her into something that didn’t allow for hesitation. Paige felt the tension in her chest begin to loosen, the heat spreading as instinct took over and her free hand found its way to Azzi’s cheek as she deepened the kiss.

For a moment, everything else fell away—the doubts, the fears, all the questions. All that mattered was the way Azzi’s lips felt against hers, the way their bodies seemed to gravitate towards one another so naturally.

But as their bodies pressed closer and the kiss deepend, something in Paige stirred, so she broke the kiss softly pulling back just enough to catch her breath much to Azzi’s protest.

Paige’s voice was barely a whisper as she murmured, “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Azzi tilted her head slightly, eyes searching Paige's face. “Why not?”

Paige shook her head, feeling the way her mind was racing. “We’re not ready yet Az.”

Azzi furrowed her brow. “Why can’t we just let things happen naturally? We’re in a good place, aren’t we? I’m fine, P I promise.”

Without a word, Paige reached over and unlocked her phone and passed it to Azzi. She watched her closely, her expression softening.

Azzi took the phone, her eyes reflecting her confusion. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Go through it,” Paige urged, her voice soft yet insistent.

Azzi hesitated, a knot of doubt forming in her stomach; she wasn’t sure she wanted to see what was behind that request although part of her knew it was absolutely nothing. “I don’t know, Paige…”

Paige’s tone softened, almost pleading. “I swear, there’s nothing in there. It's just... I need you to trust me and see for yourself.”

Azzi sighed, fighting the anxiety that bubbled inside her. Paige was constantly reassuring her, but part of her still feared what she might find. So with a resigned sigh, Azzi locked the phone again and tossed it gently back to Paige.

“I don’t need to see it, Paige,” Azzi muttered, her voice strained.

Paige's now softly pointing out, “You can’t even go through my phone without being scared, Az. We’re not ready, and I want us to be ready before we go there again.”

Azzi’s eyes dropped to her hands, fingers nervously playing with each other. A wave of sadness washed over her, guilt twisting in her chest. She felt torn—wanting to trust Paige, but something in her held back, unsure, afraid of what she might find. A mix of emotions swirled through her brain making it hard to breathe for a moment.

Paige, sensing the internal struggle, moved closer. She gently grabbed Azzi's jaw, lifting her head until their eyes met. Her voice was soft but firm, the sincerity clear in every word. “It’s okay. We’ll get there. We just need a little more time.”

Azzi nodded silently, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. Paige smiled, her touch gentle as she settled back into her previous position, resuming the soothing massage on Azzi’s knee as the energy in the room slowly shifted back to normal.

…

Then there was today, a few weeks later Paige was leaning casually against the wall waiting for Azzi to get out of class, her backpack slung over one shoulder as she chatted with a girl Azzi didn’t recognize. Azzi was walking toward her, her pace slowing slightly as she took in the sight. Paige’s easy smile, the way she gestured animatedly, and the way the girl was giving Paige her undivided attention—all of it caused something to simmer in Azzi’s chest.

But Azzi didn’t let it show. She schooled her expression into neutrality as she approached, stopping just short of Paige. Paige caught sight of her and broke into a huge smile, her face lighting up effortlessly.

“Hey Azzi” Paige said, her voice casual as she turned to the girl. “Thank you, I appreciate the support!”

The girl nodded, her gaze lingering on Paige for just a second too long before walking away. Azzi’s eyes followed her briefly, her jaw tightening.

As they made their way to Paige’s car, she threw her arm around Azzi’s shoulders the way she always did now when they were walking but the walk was silent. To Paige, it was a comfortable kind of silence, one she didn’t think twice about. For Azzi, it was anything but.

By the time they arrived at their empty suite, Azzi’s frustration had bubbled to the surface at Paige not saying anything. She shut the door behind her with a little more force than necessary and turned to Paige.

“Who was that?” Azzi asked, her tone clipped.

Paige blinked, confused as these were the first words Azzi was saying to her. “Who was who?”

Azzi crossed her arms. “The girl you were talking to.”

Paige shrugged, her expression indifferent. “I don’t know. Some random fan asking about our next game.”

Azzi scoffed, her expression tightening. “A fan, huh? Right. Because you’re always just casually talking to fans.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Paige asked, her confusion evident

Azzi’s voice was sharp, but quieter now, as if she wasn’t sure she wanted to say it out loud. “It means I’ve seen how you are with people, Paige. I know how easy it is for you to flirt without even realizing it.”

Paige groaned, throwing her hands up. “Azzi, come on. She was literally asking about the next game. I wasn’t flirting with her.”

Azzi muttered something under her breath, something Paige couldn’t quite catch.

“What?” Paige asked again, her voice growing slightly.

Azzi let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Maybe you weren’t trying to. But she didn’t look like she was asking about the game, Paige.”

Paige huffed, her frustration mounting. “I don’t get it. I didn’t do anything wrong, and you’re acting like I cheated or something!”

Azzi’s jaw clenched, and her voice dropped even further. “I’m not saying that. But it’s hard not to wonder sometimes… to wonder if maybe you’re getting bored.”

Paige froze, her eyebrows knitting together. “Bored? Azzi, what are you talking about?”

Azzi’s gaze fell, and her voice softened, no longer sharp but tinged with vulnerability. “We just haven’t defined anything. And we haven’t… you know… since that first time. I just—sometimes I don’t know where we stand, Paige and I don’t know if us trying to figure this out is enough for you. If us waiting is boring to you.”

Paige blinked, thrown off by the sudden shift. Her frustration tangled with guilt, but she couldn’t find the words to make Azzi feel better. “Azzi…”

Azzi stepped back slightly.. “You’re so used to being wanted by everyone and getting what you want whenever you want it. It’s not like I don’t know that. I just..waiting is a little frustrating and—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply. “Forget it.”

“Forget it?” Paige repeated, her voice rising slightly. “No, Azzi, don’t do that. Don’t act like this is just on me. I’m here, aren’t I? I’m literally here with you.”

Azzi shook her head, her tone weary now. “I don’t want to argue with you, Paige. Not about this right now, I was just being jealous it’s stupid.”

She turned and started toward her room, but Paige followed her. “No, wait. Don’t walk away.”

Azzi stopped just inside her room, bending over to grab something from her desk. Without looking back, she said lightly, “Seriously, Paige, I don’t want to do this right now. We can talk later.”

Paige’s frustration was boiling over. She hated the weight in Azzi’s voice, hated how the words stuck in her own throat. She didn’t know how to explain herself, how to make Azzi see that there was nothing else—no one else—that mattered to her. That waiting for Azzi didn’t bother her.

Before she could think twice about it, Paige crossed the room in two quick strides. Without hesitation she grabbed Azi’s arm, softly spinning her around. Before either of them could speak, Paige’s lips crashed against Azzi’s. The kiss was full of frustration, need, and every unspoken word between them.

For a moment, Azzi froze, caught off guard, but then her body melted into Paige’s. Her hands clenching the fabric of Paige’s shirt pulling her closer as she kissed her back with just as much intensity. The argument dissolved between them, replaced by something much more raw.

Paige pulled Azzi backwards, guiding her with each step. Their lips never parted, each kiss growing deeper and more desperate as each of them let out their frustration at their situation. Paige barely registered the edge of the bed hitting the back of her knees before she fell onto it, Azzi following instantly. Azzi straddled her, her hands gripping Paige’s shirt tightly as their mouths locked in a rhythm that burned away their anger and replaced it with pure desire.

Paige groaned into Azzi’s mouth as Azzi rolled her hips into Paige’s pressing their bodies closer, the kiss growing heavier with every second. Paige’s hands instinctively wrapped firmly around Azz’s waist, trying to steady herself but pull Azzi closer at the same time. The touch seemed to encourage Azzi who broke from Paige’s lips and began trailing urgent kisses down her neck.

Paige’s breath hitched, her head tilting back as a shiver ran through her. “Fuck Azzi–” she whispered, her voice caught between a desperate plea and a low moan.

At the sound of this Azzi froze. Her lips hovered over Paige’s skin, the weight of the moment crashing down on her. Slowly Azzi pulled back, her breathing uneven as she propped herself up slightly with a hand on Paige’s chest, her dark eyes clouded with something indecipherable.

Paige lay beneath her, her blue eyes dark with pure desire but also something softer—a quiet vulnerability that tugged at Azzi’s chest, that made Azzi want to just say forget it. But Azzi sighed, pressing the bridge of her nose between her fingers before climbing off of Paige entirely.

The abruptness of the movement made Paige sit up on her elbows, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Azzi,” she started, her voice hesitant, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

Azzi shook her head, cutting her off gently. “You don’t need to apologize.”

Paige watched her closely, but her heart clenched when she saw Azzi grab her gym bag. A sudden panic flared within her. Paige scrambled to her feet, her voice pitching higher. “Where are you going?”

Azzi slung the bag over her shoulder, glancing at Paige with a calmness that didn’t match the rising tension in Paige’s chest. “I’m going to the gym.”

Paige’s stomach twisted. Azzi’s response was completely rational, but it didn’t stop the surge of panic that overtook her. She stepped forward, her voice shaky. “Azzi, wait. Please don’t go.”

Azzi’s expression softened already knowing what was going through Paige’s head. “Paige—”

“I’m sorry,” Paige interrupted, her words tumbling out. “I didn’t mean to push—I don’t know why I did that. Just, don’t go. Please.”

Azzi exhaled, the weight of Paige’s fear pressing down on her. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said softly, stepping closer, her voice dripping with warmth. “It’s not what you think. I’m not leaving. I just need to clear my head, okay?

But Paige’s unease was written all over her face. Her blue eyes glistened with unshed tears, her lips parted as if to plead further. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “But you’re walking out. You’re just…leaving. And what if–”

Azzi sighed again, cutting her off gently but firmly, before dropping her bag and stepping forward grabbing Paige’s hand. She led her to sit down on the edge of the bed. Azzi knelt in front of her, placing her hands gently on Paige’s knees.

“Paige,” she started, her voice firm but tender. Paige tried to interrupt, shaking her head, but Azzi caught her face in her hands, making her look directly at her.

“Listen to me,” Azzi said, her voice steady. “I’m not leaving. Baby, I promise you, I’m not leaving you.”

Paige’s breath hitched, the emotions swirling in her chest almost too much to bear. “But you’re going to the gym,” she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. “And I–I don’t know, it feels like…like you’re leaving because I messed up, and I–”

“Hey. I’m just going to the gym,” Azzi cut in gently, her thumbs brushing over Paige’s cheeks. “You didn’t mess up. This isn’t about that. We were arguing about something that doesn’t even matter, and I just need a little time to clear my head. That’s all. I don’t want to fight with you, and I don’t want this to spiral. We both just need a little time to settle and calm down.”

Paige blinked, her mind beginning to grasp Azzi’s words. Slowly, she nodded, the realization dawning on her as her breathing steadied. “You promise?”

Azzi smiled softly, letting her hands linger on Paige’s cheeks for a moment whispering “I promise P,” before she pulled back. She slowly stood and grabbed her phone and gym bag again, heading toward the door. But as she reached the threshold, she glanced back at Paige, noticing the way her mind still seemed to race, her unease still faintly visible.

Azzi hesitated for a moment before walking back to her. She bent down in front of Paige again, her brown eyes warm as they met Paige’s. “Paige I promise you I’ll be back. I was being irrational and I just need a little time to think baby.”

Paige nodded again, her lips quirking into the faintest smile at the word ‘baby.’

Then, Azzi leaned in and kissed Paige—softly, gently, with a tenderness that melted away the last of Paige’s fears.

When Azzi pulled back, Paige managed a small smile, her chest feeling a little lighter. “Okay,” she whispered.

Azzi gave her one last reassuring look before standing and heading out, the door clicking softly behind her. This time, when Azzi walked out, Paige didn’t panic. She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers brushing her lips as she continued to smile faintly. Her heart settled as her mind finally began to quiet.

Later that night, Azzi returned to the suite with a steaming bag of Noodles & Company and a shirley temple. The soft glow from the TV lit up Paige’s face as she sat with her legs spread on the couch, her headset slightly askew as she focused on her game of Fortnite yelling about who knows what. When Paige looked up and saw Azzi standing there, her smile was radiant—so pure and full of warmth that Azzi swore she’d never forget it as it made her heart skip a beat.

“I’m back,” Azzi said softly, holding up the food.

Ice, sprawled on the armchair groaned dramatically, flicking a chip at Azzi. “I see how it is–bring noodles for Paige but nothing for me. Your favorite child”

Azzi laughed, her eyes never leaving Paige. “You can have what I got for myself,” she teased, handing Ice the bottle of water with a smirk.

Ice rolled her eyes. “You’re such a simp.”

Paige chuckled at that, but Azzi didn’t care. With a soft smile, she walked over and plucked Paige’s headset off her head.

“Hey!” Paige protested, reaching for it, but Azzi was already tugging her to her feet.

“Time to take a break,” Azzi said, her voice playful but firm.

“One more game,” Paige whined, her lips jutting into a pout.

Azzi shook her head, laughing. “Nope. My room. Now.”

Paige huffed but followed Azzi willingly, shooting a teasing glance at Ice, who muttered something about third-wheeling and how they never feed their child as they disappeared into Azzi’s room.

Once inside, Azzi set the food on her desk, but Paige crossed her arms, staring her down. “You’re eating some of this,” she insisted.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “I brought it for you, you know.”

“And I’m sharing it with you,” Paige said, already opening the box and poking around with a fork. “Sit.”

Azzi chuckled, stepping back and sitting on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a grin. Paige sat on the bed beside her, the container of noodles in her hand. She held out a forkful of noodles, her gaze locked on Azzi’s as she leaned in a little closer.

“Really?” Azzi asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.

“Really,” Paige replied, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Azzi sighed but leaned forward, letting Paige feed her. They laughed as Paige made a show of wiping a stray noodle from Azzi’s chin, her touch lingering just a second too long.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “You’re not being subtle, you know.”

Paige grinned, giving her a playful shrug. “I’m just making sure you don’t go hungry.”

Azzi laughed softly, her hand brushing over Paige’s, lingering just for a second. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might start getting other ideas about where this night is going.”

Paige's smile widened, her cheeks turning a soft shade of pink. “Oh, trust me, there’s plenty more where that came from. ”

This statement makes Azzi raise her eyebrow at the blonde sitting in front of her.

Paige just laughs, shaking her head as she takes a bite of her food. “Get your head out of the gutter, we’re watching Kyrie highlights.”

This immediately makes Azzi groan.

They continued eating as the quiet settled around them, neither of them noticing how natural it all felt—how their earlier tension had dissolved into something lighter, softer.

As Paige scooped up another bite of noodles and tried to offer it to her, Azzi caught her wrist gently, stopping her. Paige looked at her, confused.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” Azzi said softly, her brown eyes filled with admiration.

Paige’s cheeks flushed, her lips twitching into a shy smile. “I think you’re pretty amazing too.”

Azzi leaned forward, pressing a quick kiss to Paige’s cheek. “I don’t deserve you.”

Paige shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “You deserve the world, Azzi.”

They continued eating, sharing the container of noodles as a comfortable quiet settled between them. Every now and then, Paige would sneak a bite in Azzi’s direction, insisting she eat more despite Azzi’s protests. Paige was adamant, though, grinning as she held out another forkful until Azzi rolled her eyes and relented, letting out a playful sigh of defeat.

When Paige reached for her shirley temple, Azzi playfully made a grab for it, earning a sharp glare and a dramatic clutch of the cup from Paige. “Don’t even think about it this is where I draw the line,” Paige warned, her tone light but firm, causing Azzi to laugh, her head shaking at Paige’s possessiveness over the drink.

The quiet moments stretched between them, filled with warmth and contentment. As Paige leaned back against the headboard, her mind felt unusually calm. The endless worries, the fears that usually gnawed at her, were nowhere to be found. Azzi’s presence anchored her—a steady, quiet reassurance she hadn’t realized she’d needed until now.

Azzi, meanwhile, watched Paige smile and laugh, her heart swelling with an emotion she hadn’t fully allowed herself to feel until now. She could see it in the way Paige looked at her, in the easy way Paige seemed to settle into their shared space. Paige being at home waiting for her. This wasn’t fleeting; it wasn’t temporary. Paige wasn’t going anywhere.

As Paige set the empty container aside, she leaned back against the headboard, a thoughtful look crossing her face. Out of nowhere, she broke the silence. “Let me take you on a date,” she said, her voice casual, as if she were suggesting they go for a walk.

Azzi blinked, slightly caught off guard. “A date?” she repeated, her tone curious, as if needing to clarify what she’d just heard.

“Yeah,” Paige said simply, shrugging like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Why not?”

Azzi let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Paige, you’ve never been on a date in your life,” she teased, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

Paige grinned, unfazed. “Then you can be my first. It’ll just be dinner. That’s what people do on first dates, right?”

Azzi couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her, a warm sound that filled the room. “Sure, P,” she said softly, her gaze lingering on Paige’s earnest expression. “You can take me on a date.”

“Perfect,” Paige said, her grin widening. “Tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow?” Azzi repeated, her eyebrows shooting up in mock surprise. “What if I’m busy?”

Paige tilted her head, giving Azzi a pointed look. “We have the same schedule. You’re free.”

Azzi playfully scoffed, crossing her arms. “Fine, tomorrow,” she said, her lips curling into an amused smile. “But don’t think this means I’m easy to impress.”

Paige leaned closer, her confidence never wavering. “Oh, I don’t need to impress you,” she teased, her voice dropping just enough to send a slight shiver through Azzi. “You’re already impressed by everything I do.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, unable to hide her smile.

“Ridiculous enough for you to go on a date with me,” Paige shot back, settling back into the pillows with a triumphant grin.

…

The next night rolled around, and Paige found herself standing outside the door of her own suite, a bouquet of flowers in her hand. She’d insisted that if this was going to be a real date, she had to pick Azzi up properly. So to make it authentic, she’d gotten ready in Nika’s room, leaving Azzi to prepare in the suite they shared.

Now, as she stood there, her nerves betrayed her usual confidence. Paige wiped her hands on her pants and took a steadying breath, the flowers trembling slightly in her grip. When the door finally opened, any composure she’d mustered vanished.

Azzi stood before her in a matching hot pink set: shorts and a blazer-like jacket that hung open to reveal an extremely cropped black shirt underneath, leaving little to the imagination. The outfit framed her toned stomach perfectly, her belly piercing catching the light, while the silver heart necklace Paige had given her rested against her skin.

Paige’s breath hitched, her words disappearing entirely as she stared. Azzi, blushing ever so slightly under the weight of Paige’s gaze, let out a soft laugh. “Do you like it?” she teased, her voice laced with a hint of shyness despite her confident appearance.

Paige finally snapped her mouth shut, her lips curving into a goofy smile. “Woah… yeah…you look amazing, Azzi,” she managed, her voice quieter than usual.

Then she remembered the flowers still in her hand and thrust them forward a little awkwardly. “These are for you.”

Azzi’s smile softened, her brown eyes sparkling as she took the bouquet. “Thank you,” she said warmly, clearly charmed by how flustered Paige was—a rarity for the usually self-absorbed blonde.

Azzi turned and walked back into the suite to find a vase for the flowers. Paige stayed rooted in place, still lingering by the doorway. Her gaze followed Azzi as the other girl moved effortlessly, her perfume lingering in the air where she had stood. Paige exhaled slowly, her heart pounding as she realized how completely Azzi had captivated her.

As Azzi walked back toward the door, her eyes flickered over Paige, taking in every detail. Paige had her hair down, slightly wavy—just the way Azzi liked it—and was wearing a knitted cardigan adorned with delicate flowers and a white shirt underneath it. Her patchwork blue jeans, with their various shades of denim, added a casual yet stylish touch that somehow made her look a little too good in Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi’s gaze lingered as she raked her eyes over Paige’s figure, a subtle appreciation shining in her expression. Paige, noticing this, seemed to regain her usual confidence. The nervous energy from earlier faded, replaced by a smirk that tugged at the corner of her lips.

“What?” Paige teased, her voice low and playful as she tilted her head. “You already eye fucking me, and we haven’t even left yet?”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s sudden shift in demeanor, but her cheeks warmed as she laughed softly. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she shot back, brushing past Paige and bumping her shoulder lightly.

Paige chuckled, stepping aside to let Azzi pass, but her smirk only deepened. “Come on,” she said, holding out her hand for Azzi to take. “Let’s get this date started before you decide you can’t wait.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide the smile that crept across her face as she slipped her hand into Paige’s. “Bold of you to assume I haven’t already decided.”

…

When they arrived at the restaurant, Paige made a point to pull Azzi’s seat out for her, earning a soft, amused smile. After ensuring Azzi was comfortably seated, Paige settled into her own chair, her fingers lightly drumming on the table.

Azzi noticed the subtle nervous energy radiating from Paige and leaned forward, her smile warm and reassuring. “You know you don’t need to be nervous, right? It’s just us. We’ve had dinner together hundreds of times.”

Paige, not one to admit she was rattled, plastered on a confident grin. “Psh, nervous? Me? I’ve got this in the bag,” she replied, waving her hand dismissively, though her knee bouncing under the table told a different story.

Azzi tilted her head, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You’re such a liar. You’re literally fidgeting right now.”

Paige stilled her hands and raised a brow. “Okay, first of all, I’m not fidgeting. I’m just... uh, practicing my reflexes. Athletes do that, you know. Second, this is going to be the best date you’ve ever been on, so sit back and enjoy, Ms. Fudd.”

Azzi chuckled, leaning her elbow on the table and resting her chin in her hand. “Alright then, let’s see what you’ve got.”

Paige smirked, relaxing slightly as they fell into their usual rhythm. The conversation shifted to light teasing like always

Azzi grinned as Paige described an admittedly clumsy move during practice earlier that week that led to a turnover. “So you’re saying your hands couldn’t keep up, huh?” Azzi teased, her voice dropping just enough to add a layer of meaning.

Paige rolled her eyes, biting back a smile. “Not everyone has your freakishly perfect coordination, Az.”

“Good thing I remember you being pretty coordinated when it actually counts…” Azzi replied smoothly, her voice low and full of suggestion.

Paige froze mid-breath, her jaw dropping open as her brain scrambled to process Azzi’s words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk wide as she watched Paige’s stunned expression. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

Before Paige could even think of a response, the waiter approached their table, her attention immediately drawn to Paige. With a charming smile, she addressed Paige warmly, completely ignoring Azzi.

Paige, however, didn’t even notice the waiter’s presence. Her wide-eyed gaze remained fixed on Azzi, her expression a mix of desire, admiration, and pure shock.

Azzi glanced at the waiter, then back at Paige, raising an eyebrow as she crossed her arms. “Earth to Paige,” she said teasingly, lightly kicking her under the table.

Paige blinked, finally snapping out of her daze. “Huh?” she mumbled, her head jerking toward the waiter, who was now waiting patiently with an amused expression.

The waiter gave Paige a quick once-over before flashing a flirtatious smile. “I was just asking, if you’re ready to order? I’m sure whatever you choose will be just as good as you look,” she said, her tone light and teasing.

Paige, still a little dazed, didn’t even acknowledge the compliment, her eyes having already drifted back to Azzi. Without missing a beat, she motioned toward Azzi, murmuring, “Um she’ll order for both of us.”

Azzi smirked at the subtle way Paige brushed the girl off. “I’ll have the grilled salmon, and she’ll have the filet mignon, medium, with a side of the mashed potatoes,” she said smoothly, locking eyes with the waiter.

The waiter gave a quick nod, clearly a little taken aback by Azzi’s effortless command, before she turned and walked away.

Azzi, not letting her teasing moment pass, leaned in and whispered, “You’re so easy to fluster, you know that?”

Paige finally shook herself out of her stupor, a slight blush coloring her cheeks. “You like making me do that, don’t you?”

Azzi’s smirk deepened, and she leaned back in her chair. “Maybe. It’s cute how much I can get to you with just a few words.”

Azzi and Paige continued their light conversation, the air between them easy and familiar as they waited for their food to come out.

As she returned with their food, her smile widening as she set the plates down in front of them. Her gaze lingered on Paige once more, and she leaned slightly closer than necessary. “Is there anything else I can get for you?” she asked, her voice soft, her tone unmistakably suggestive.

Paige, busy unwrapping her silverware, didn’t bother looking at the waiter. Instead, she gestured toward Azzi. “You can ask her,” she said dismissively, her tone a little flat.

Azzi’s lips twitched with amusement as she leaned back in her chair. With deliberate ease, she reached across the table, letting her hand rest just near Paige’s wrist. She kept her touch subtle, a silent claim that didn’t go unnoticed by Paige, whose posture relaxed slightly as she smiled to herself.

Azzi finally turned her gaze to the waiter, her smile polite but sharp. “We’re all set, thanks,” she said smoothly, her tone leaving no room for interpretation.

The waiter hesitated, clearly missing—or choosing to ignore—the subtext. She turned her attention back to Paige, leaning forward slightly. “Well, if you change your mind... you know where to find me,” she said, her eyes glinting with boldness as she lingered at the table longer than necessary.

Azzi tilted her head slightly, her amusement growing at the audacity of the girl in front of her. So her fingers shifted, brushing just barely against Paige’s wrist now, her touch featherlight but deliberate. Paige’s breath slightly hitched, her eyes darting to Azzi as her face began to flush at the soft touch.

Azzi, clearly enjoying herself, leaned forward slightly. Her voice dropped, soft and teasing but with a possessive undertone that was impossible to miss. “Paige, baby,” she murmured, her thumb starting a slow, deliberate stroke against the inside of Paige’s wrist as she looked her in the eyes. “Is there anything you need from her?”

Paige’s lips parted, her breath slightly stuttering as she stared at Azzi in awe. She shook her head, her voice barely above a whisper. “No... I'm good,” she said, the words rushed but sincere, clearly immersed in the control Azzi was putting forward.

Azzi smirked, her fingers sliding down to lightly intertwine with Paige’s. She didn’t grip too tightly, just enough to make her point as she finally turned her attention back to the waiter. “See? She’s good,” Azzi said, her tone sweet but pointed, her eyes narrowing slightly.

The waiter faltered, her confidence cracking as her eyes flicked between them, taking in the subtle shift in Paige’s demeanor as she was once again completely immersed in Azzi. “I was just being friendly,” she said, her smile now strained.

Azzi’s smile tightened, and her grip on Paige’s hand squeezed just slightly, her thumb brushing along the back of Paige’s knuckles. “Friendly’s fine,” she said lightly, her tone still sweet but carrying an unmistakable edge. “Just not with her.”

The waiter finally seemed to understand she was losing ground. With a tight, awkward smile, she mumbled, “Well... enjoy your meal,” before walking away without another word.

As the waiter disappeared, Azzi let out a soft chuckle, her thumb lazily resuming its strokes against Paige’s hand. “That was cute,” Azzi teased, her smirk widening as she watched Paige squirm.

Paige groaned, finally tugging her hand free and leaning forward to hide her face in her hands. “You’re kinda crazy Az,” she muttered, though her soft laugh betrayed her words.

Azzi leaned back in her chair, her smirk still firmly in place as she picked up her fork. “Well I guess that’s the first new thing you’ll learn about me,” she said casually, giving Paige a look. “I really don’t like sharing.”

Paige peeked at her from between her fingers, her lips quirking into a teasing smile. “Hmm. Wouldn’t have pegged you as the jealous type,” she said, her voice light but edged with curiosity.

Azzi’s smile widened as she shrugged. “I didn’t say anything about being jealous,” she replied smoothly.. She tilted her head toward where the waiter had retreated. “I just know how to put people in their place.”

Paige laughed, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. “No need,” she said casually. “I don’t see anybody but you at this point.”

The simplicity of Paige's words struck Azzi unexpectedly, and her heart fluttered in her chest. There was a warmth in the sincerity of it all, a reassurance that settled deep in her, and in that moment, Azzi realized how much she wanted to give herself over completely to Paige. It wasn’t just about the date or the playful teasing anymore—it was about something real, something she could feel in her bones.

A while later Azzi was grinning as Paige gave her another bite of her food, making her comment softly, “You know, this is the first date I’ve actually enjoyed.”

Paige cocked an eyebrow, her lips curving into a cocky grin. “Of course it is,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “It’s me.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, her smile never wavering. “Whatever,” she muttered playfully, but the affection in her voice was unmistakable. She couldn’t deny how much this meant to her.

Paige, with a teasing glint in her eye, reached for another bite of food, offering it to Azzi again. But Azzi raised an eyebrow, giving her a mock glare. “Are you actually going to eat any of your food, or are you just planning on giving it all to me?”

Paige shrugged with a mischievous grin. “You need to eat.”

Azzi glanced down at her plate, clearly making progress in her meal. “I’m eating,” she said, giving Paige an exaggerated look. Azzi picked up a forkful of her salmon and waved it in front of Paige’s face. “Here. You try it. It’s actually pretty good.”

Paige recoiled dramatically, holding up her hands. “Oh no, I’m good. You know I don’t do salmon.”

Azzi made a face, then went for the classic move. She looked at Paige with the most exaggerated, pleading puppy dog eyes she could muster. “Please? Just one bite? For me?”

Paige sighed dramatically, resisting for only a moment. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

But before Azzi could even manage a victorious grin, Paige relented. “Fine. One bite.” She said with mock reluctance and let Azzi feed her a bite of the salmon.

Paige chewed it slowly, her face a picture of careful deliberation. She swallowed and then, after a long pause, gave Azzi a look that was half-amused, half-disgusted.

Azzi was already smiling, clearly pleased with herself. “See? It wasn’t that bad.”

Paige grumbles in disagreement as she eats some of her food to get rid of the taste.

As they continued talking Paige was mid-bite when a small bit of mashed potato found its way to her lip. She didn’t notice at first but Azzi did. So with a playful smirk, Azzi reached across the table, her fingers brushing lightly against Paige's skin as she gently wiped the spot from her lip with her index finger. As she pulled her hand back, Azzi made a deliberate show of slowly licking the mashed potato off her finger, her gaze locked with Paige’s the entire time. The movement was teasing, a mix of subtle flirtation and confidence that left Paige a little breathless.

Paige couldn’t pull her eyes away from Azzi as she took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. When she managed to speak, her voice low, almost a whisper as she simply said, “Azzi please.”

Azzi tilted her head innocently, her lips curling into a playful smile. “Yes, Paige?” she asked, her tone casual, but her eyes sparkled with mischief, knowing exactly what she was doing, loving the control she had over Paige.

Paige swallowed hard, her heart racing as she licked her lips. “You’re killing me tonight,” she murmured, her gaze never breaking from Azzi’s.

Azzi’s smile widened, her voice dripping with teasing confidence as she leaned just slightly closer across the table. “I know, baby,” she replied smoothly.

The air around them seemed to shift. The noise of the restaurant, the clink of cutlery, the hum of conversations—all faded into the background as Paige and Azzi stayed locked in each other’s gaze. Paige’s pupils dilated, her blue eyes growing darker under the intensity of Azzi’s stare.

Azzi, fully aware of the effect she was having, didn’t look away. There was a challenge in her gaze now, an unspoken dare, almost as if she was silently urging Paige to make the next move.

Paige clenched her jaw, fighting the urge to pull Azzi closer, to end the dinner and take her home. She could feel her composure slipping away, and Azzi, with that smile still firmly in place, was more than happy to push her further.

Azzi’s gaze never wavered as she subtly shifted her hand, her fingers brushing against Paige's with a deliberate slowness as she let their fingers intertwine, a small yet intimate gesture that sent a jolt of heat through Paige’s body. Azzi’s touch was light, almost teasing, but it was enough to completely throw off Paige’s concentration.

Paige had to close her eyes for a moment, trying to regain some semblance of control. She could barely think straight with the way Azzi was looking at her. So she took a slow breath, trying to ground herself, but Azzi’s hand holding hers kept her tethered in the moment.

“Open your eyes P,” Azzi’s voice was a whisper, but it carried authority, a command wrapped in sweetness. The edge in her tone made Paige’s stomach tighten.

Paige slowly opened her eyes, finding herself once again lost in the depths of Azzi’s gaze immediately. There was no escaping it now. She was completely under Azzi’s spell, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to escape at all. Azzi’s fingers tightened around hers, their palms pressed together as the world around them seemed to fade, leaving only them.

Azzi’s gaze softened, her voice barely above a whisper. “What are you thinking about?” she asked, her words carrying a mix of curiosity and something darker, something that Paige could feel even before the question left her lips.

Paige, unable to look away, let a slow smile curl at the corners of her mouth. “You know exactly what I’m thinking about,” she said, her voice low.

Azzi’s smile widened, her eyes flickering with mischief and desire. “Take me home then,” she said, the words slipping from her lips like a secret, a command wrapped in temptation.

That was all it took.

Paige didn’t hesitate. She threw a couple of bills onto the table—definitely more than enough to cover the tab—and stood up. Both of them heading for Paige’s car with a little extra pep in their step.

…

Once they get to the suite, Azzi starts walking towards her room, but Paige grabs her hand pulling her towards her room that’s further from Ice’s, trying to spare the girl.

Azzi raises an eyebrow but doesn’t protest as she lets Paige lead her. As they step into Paige’s room she wastes no time shutting the door behind them and locking it.

Paige flicks on her led lamp to lightly illuminate the room and before she can gather her bearings, Azzi’s hands were on her, as she gently pushed her back against the door. Paige’s back hit it with a soft thud, her breath catching in her throat at Azzi’s confidence and her pulse quickening slightly as she met Azzi’s smile with a grin of her own. Azzi’s smile was a slow, teasing smile–one that made Paige feel like she was already a step behind in whatever was happening in Azzi’s head.

Azzi studied her for a moment, clearly enjoying the way Paige’s body seemed to melt at her touch. Without breaking eye contact, she reached for the buttons on Paige's cardigan, her fingers grazing the fabric as she slowly started unbuttoning it. "You always look so damn good," Azzi murmured, her voice soft but filled with heat. "You have no idea what you do to me. How you make me feel."

With each button undone, the white shirt underneath was revealed, the fabric clinging slightly to Paige’s frame, teasing Azzi. The room felt unbearably warm, and Paige was basically trembling, unsure if it was from desire or the intensity of Azzi's gaze.

Azzi stopped halfway through unbuttoning, her fingers still resting on the cardigan. "Tell me…" she whispered, leaning in close, her breath brushing against Paige's cheek. "What are you thinking about now?"

Paige’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts, none of them coherent enough to form an answer. She could feel the heat of Azzi's body so close to hers, her lips barely brushing her ear with each whispered word. She couldn’t even formulate a response. She had never felt like this before, had never been the one with a loss of words.

Azzi smiled softly at Paige’s flustered expression, enjoying the way Paige’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of pink as she finished unbuttoning Paige’s sweater. With a deliberate slowness Azzi brushed the cardigan off Paige’s shoulders, letting it fall carelessly to the floor.

Her fingers trailed down Paige’s waist, coming to rest on her belt as she began undoing it as she watched Paige’s every reaction. Azzi's touch was firm but gentle, pulling Paige just slightly towards her, guiding them slowly toward the bed. Their eyes met, and in that moment, Azzi's gaze was soft but undeniably commanding, filled with an unspoken promise that sent a shiver down Paige’s spine.

“I want you,” Azz whispered, her voice low and laced with desire. “I want you to do whatever you want to me.”

Paige finally found her voice, her tone softer, almost vulnerable as she asked, “Are you sure?”

Azzi didn’t hesitate. Without a flicker of doubt in her eyes, she nodded, the softness of her gaze only intensifying the fire between them.

Azzi’s confirmation was all Paige needed as she immediately reached for Azzi, pulling her into a kiss that was equal parts tender and passionate, their breaths mingling as the moment consumed them. Azzi’s fingers, still toying with Paige’s belt, moved to undo it with an effortless confidence that made Paige’s pulse quicken.

Before she knew it, Paige was guiding Azzi backward the rest of the way toward the bed, her grip steady but filled with an unspoken urgency. Azzi smirked against Paige’s lips, letting herself be pushed down, her body melting into the mattress.

The sight of Paige standing above her, her belt now hanging open and her eyes completely dilated with want was enough to make Azzi bite her lip, her gaze also dark. Her hand found its way to Paige’s loose belt gently tugging Paige toward her. “Don’t make me wait anymore,” she teased, her voice dripping with desire.

Azzi watches as Paige takes off her jeans, never breaking eye contact. As soon as she’s done she’s climbing on the bed, hovering over Azzi as their lips meet again, this time softer but no less consuming, Each kiss feeling like a promise, a declaration as they become lost in one another.

Paige’s hands moved expertly, finding the edges of Azzi’s blazer. With a gentle tug, she slipped it off Azzi’s shoulder, her fingertips brushing against Azzi's warm skin. Azzi sat up slightly to help, her eyes never leaving Paige’s as the blazer fell away, leaving her in the cropped black shirt that clung to her frame tightly.

Paige’s breath caught for a moment as her gaze roamed over Azzi, her hands lightly tracing along the hem of her shirt. “You’re incredible,” Paige whispered, her voice tinged with awe.

Azzi smiles at Paige’s words, her expression soft at the girl on top of her. Without saying a word, she reached up, pulling Paige toward her again, capturing her lips in a kiss that was much more intense than the last.

The kiss grew heavier with each moment, Paige swiping her tongue across Azzi’s lips asking for access that Azzi immediately grants as the world outside the room fades away, their focus narrowing to just the two of them. Azzi’s hands roam Paige’s sides, her touch firm, sending jolts of excitement through Paige’s skin.

Azzi breaks the kiss briefly, pushing Paige slightly back with a playful smirk. Paige looked at her, breathless, as Azzi’s hands reached for the hem of her shirt. With a smooth motion, Azzi pulled the shirt over her head, tossing it aside before meeting Paige’s gaze again who had also quickly discarded her white shirt.

The sight of Azzi like this left Paige momentarily stunned. But before she could linger on the image too long trying to capture it for memory, Azzi pulled her back in, their lips meeting again matching the intensity right where they left off.

Azzi began making soft noises into Paige’s mouth, each sound sending a warmth through her body. It drove Paige absolutely crazy, her restraint slipping more and more with every passing second.

“Fuck Azzi,” Paige murmured, her voice low as she pulled back just enough to begin pressing her lips to Azzi’s neck. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

Azzi let out another quiet, breathy moan at the attention she was getting, her hands grabbing Paige’s waist as she tilted her head to the side granting Paige better access. “I think I do,” she whispered, her voice teasing but strained.

Paige’s lips and teeth worked along Azzi’s neck, her kisses alternating between soft and firm as she trailed down to the delicate curve where Azzi’s shoulder met her collarbone. Azzi’s hands slide up Paige’s back, pulling her impossibly closer. “Right there baby,” Azzi whispered, her voice breaking slightly as Paige’s lips and tongue lingered on a particularly sensitive spot.

“Shit you feel so good,” Azzi breathed, her words almost inaudible but thick with emotion.

Her voice was like music to Paige’s ears, the way it shook with every touch drove her to keep going. Paige’s lips curled into a slight smile against Azzi’s skin as she dragged her mouth lower, savoring the soft gasps and whispered encouragement Azzi continued to spill.

“Perfect,” Azzi murmured, when Paige’s lips met her waist. Her voice melted into something low and satisfied. “You’re perfect.”

Paige groaned softly at the words, her hands tightening on Azzi’s hips as she whispered back, “You’re killing me Azzi baby.”

Azzi laughed softly, though it was laced with breathlessness. “Then don’t hold back,” she murmured, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair. “I don’t want you to.” Before Azzi could even process what she was asking for, the rest of her clothes were pulled off skilfully in a quick motion.

Paige’s actions fueled by Azzi’s words, every whispered encouragement and breathless murmur driving her as she finally gave Azzi exactly what she wanted, pouring every ounce of her desire and affection into her touch.

Azzi made sure Paige knew exactly how much she was enjoying every moment of it. Her voice a symphony of soft gasps, murmured praises, and loud moans, echoing through the room without a care for who might hear.

“Fuck baby…yes just like that,” Azzi said breathlessly, her hands threading through Paige’s hair, tugging lightly as her head titled back and her hips moved to reach Paige’s movements. “Don’t stop..please, don’t stop.”

Paige just hummed as she pressed closer, her lips and hands working in perfect rhythm, completely consumed by Azzi’s responses. Each sound Azzi made spurring her on more, her own restraint dissolving as she focused on the girl beneath her.

“You’re amazing,” Azzi murmured, her voice trembling with raw emotion, her nails grabbing Paige’s shoulders. “I need you, Paige. Just you.”

Paige’s heart raced at the confession, her fingers growing more intense as she kissed her way back to Azzi’s lips, capturing her in a passionate kiss that left them both breathless.

Azzi’s laughter bubbled up between gasps, a mix of pure joy and overwhelming sensation at the way Paige was touching her. “You’re going to make me lose my mind,” she admitted, her voice shaky but full of affection, her lips brushing against Paige’s as she spoke.

Paige’s fingers continued their rhythm inside Azzi, as her voice dipped into a tone so soft yet full of conviction. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words wrapping around Azzi. “Every part of you, Azzi…I could get lost in your forever.”

Azzi’s breath hitched at the sincerity in Paige’s voice, her chest rising and falling as she clung to the words. Paige didn’t stop there, leaning closer, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she added, “You’re everything to me Az. So perfect. I promise you I’m only yours.”

The praise sent so much warmth through Azzi and she arched slightly, her head tilting back as her lips parted. “Paige..” she murmured her voice trembling with emotion. Azzi’s hands found their way to Paige’s back, holding onto her as if she were her anchor, grounding her in this moment.

Azzi’s gaze was unwavering, her brown eyes dark with passion yet soft with adoration. Paige’s blue eyes mirrored the same intensity, her pupils dilated as she took in every inch of the girl beneath her.

“You’re so fucking incredible,” Azzi whispered, her voice breathy but firm, her fingers digging into Paige’s skin as her fingers curled perfectly inside of her.

Azzi began trembling beneath Paige biting her lip trying to hold onto some resemblance of control, her body completely attuned to every touch, every word, the way their gaze was locked onto one another. Her breathing became uneven, her chest rising and falling as if she was trying to steady herself but kept failing. Her eyes fluttered shut, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, but Paige wasn’t having it.

“Azzi,” Paige whispered, her voice low but commanding, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she hovered over her. “Look at me,”

Azzi’s long lashes flickered as she tried to open her eyes but the feeling was too much for her. Paige’s free hand gently cupped her jaw, her thumb brushing over her cheek as she spoke again, this time softer but just as firm. “Open your eyes, Az. I want you to look at me while you finish for me baby.”

Azzi let out a shaky breath, her lids lifting slowly until their eyes met once more. The second their gazes locked it was like Azzi couldn’t take anymore as her mouth fell open, the sheer intimacy of the moment causing a sound to escape Azzi’s lips–louder and more unrestrained than she expected. It was uncharacteristically loud for someone usually so composed but she didn’t care. “God, baby right there... please Paige... don't…fuck please don’t stop,” every word laced with need and vulnerability before she’s throwing her head back coming undone for Paige.

Paige smiles at the sound of Azzi's voice as she leans in and kisses her slowly, their tongue tasting every part of each other as Paige's pace slows, just enough to make Azzi's body ache with the contrast. Azzi's breath comes in shallow gasps, every inch of her skin alive with need.

Paige’s lips curled into a soft, knowing smile, her thumb still stroking Azzi’s cheek. “You did so good for me,” she murmured, her words laced with affection and pride.

Azzi’s grip tightened on Paige’s back as she was still trying to anchor herself. Her voice trembled as she replied, “You… you’re going to ruin me, Paige.”

Paige leaned closer, her lips barely brushing against Azzi’s as she whispered, “I won’t baby, I got you. I promise.”

The exchange sent another wave of shivers through Azzi, her body arching instinctively toward Paige as she started moving again, unable to resist the pull between them. She looks up at Paige pleading for something-anything more.

Paige notices the way Azzi's body trembles under her, how her breath hitches every time she curls her fingers. Her voice drops, soothing but commanding, "Breathe, baby. Just breathe."

The words themselves are almost a command, but they're gentle, like a touch trying to calm the chaos in Azzi’s chest as it rises and falls rapidly, trying to obey, but she feels the pressure inside her building again, tighter this time. Paige's thumb presses into her as she continues her movements deliberate but slow, a stark contrast to how Azzi's body wants to react.

Paige can tell Azzi’s body is going into overdrive so she starts speaking to her. "Focus on me," Paige murmurs near Azzi’s ear, her voice smooth and low, sending ripples of warmth through Azzi. "Focus on your breathing. In and out, nice and slow." She moves her hand in small, measured circles, pushing Azzi right to the edge and pulling her back. "You're doing so good Azzi. Just breathe through it, baby. Let me guide you."

Azzi's entire body is trembling, her mind racing to keep up with the ebb and flow of pleasure. It feels like it's almost too much, but Paige's steady control-her voice, her hands keeps her grounded. The way she talks to her, calm but firm, drives Azzi crazy, and all she can do is follow, surrendering her body to the rhythm Paige has set.

"Tell me how it feels," Paige says, softly. "I wanna hear you some more for me baby."

Azzi opens her mouth, but no coherent words come out-only the sound of desperate, broken breaths as she forces herself to focus on Paige, her voice, her eyes, her touch.

"Feels... feels so good, Paige baby... I can't-" Her voice cracks, the tension too much to contain, but Paige doesn't speed up. She waits, her touch still steady.

"Good just like that baby. Breathe. You're almost there," Paige whispers, coaxing Azzi through it, her own voice filled with desire and pure admiration of the girl underneath her.

Azzi looks up at Paige, her eyes glazed over with need as she’s straining to keep them open. She trembles slightly, her voice barely a whisper as she murmurs, "P I can’t— I can't take anymore."

Paige’s hand shifts to lightly wrap around Azzi’s neck, gently but firmly guiding her gaze to her eyes, making sure she doesn’t look away. She squeezes slightly, her thumb brushing across Azzi’s skin as she speaks, her voice steady but soft, full of encouragement. “Yes, you can. Just relax baby. Let me make you feel good.”

Azzi nods, trying to steady her racing heart, her breaths shallow as she sinks into the rhythm of Paige's touch. As Paige squeezes again, Azzi’s hand moves to cover Paige’s, her fingers curling around hers, squeezing tighter as she gazes directly into Paige’s eyes. The sensation sparks something deep inside her, and without breaking eye contact, she whispers, "Harder, baby."

The words are a desperate plea, the intensity of her need clear in her voice. Paige’s eyes never leave Azzi’s as her breath hitches and the pressure builds. Azzi, feeling her body react, presses her hips closer to Paige’s movements, her chest rising and falling faster. “Fuck Paige right there, don’t stop,” Azzi breathes out, her voice low and almost frantic. “Mmm make me feel it baby, show me how much you miss fucking me.”

Paige tightens her grip, feeling Azzi’s pulse beneath her fingertips, and Azzi’s body continues to tremble with anticipation as Paige quickens her movements, fingers curling as she moves in and out of Azzi. Paige’s voice is low, almost teasing, as she murmurs, “You’re taking it so well baby fuck, you look so good under me.”

Azzi’s fingers curl tighter around Paige’s wrist, urging her on. “Yes, just like that,” Azzi whispers, her voice filled with a desire that only Paige can satisfy. “Harder, please Paige, don’t stop. You feel so good.”

Paige’s touch becomes more deliberate, the pressure firm and her movements unrelenting as Azzi’s breathing quickens. She feels the way Azzi’s body reacts, every tremble and sigh pushing her to give her more. Paige leans in, her lips brushing against Azzi’s ear as she whispers, “You’re so gorgeous baby, so perfect…I always knew how pretty you would sound.”

Azzi moans softly, unable to stop the sounds escaping her lips, each one more desperate than the last as Paige’s gaze burns into her. For a moment, neither of them speaks. The air between them thick a shared silence where only the sound of their heavy breathing and Paige’s fingers moving in and out of Azzi remains.

After a few more seconds, Azzi's body gives in, a burning release overtaking her body again as she arches her back off the bed. A chorus of breathless moans escaping her lips.

Paige's heart stirs at the sight as she removes her hand from Azzi’s neck immediately and without hesitation. She leans down, kissing her cheek gently as if she's taking away the last bit of tension that still clung to Azzi's body. She whispers, "God you're so beautiful Az. You mean everything to me," before leaning her lips down to Azzi's, their kiss soft, almost loving.

Azzi's eyes flutter shut, her hands coming down to wrap around Paige's head as she lets the kiss ground her. It's slow and tender and everything Azzi needs.

Paige starts kissing down Azzi’s body, ready to keep going but Azzi’s hand shoots out, gently but firmly stopping her. Her breath comes in shaky gasps as she looks at Paige with exhaustion and a small sight of desire. “Baby…I can’t. Physically… I can’t take anymore right now, I need a break.” She says, her voice strained, the edge of exhaustion clear.

Paige’s lips curl into a teasing smirk, the challenge in her eyes only growing more playful. Before she can say anything, Azzi—still struggling to catch her breath—manages a shaky smile and jokes, “Shut up, Paige. Seriously, just… shut up for a second."

Paige’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I’ll give you a break but I hope you can keep up because I plan on doing this all night,” she teased softly, her voice low and dripping with warmth.

Azzi responded with a quiet hum of agreement, her fingers tangling in Paige’s hair to pull her back into another soft slow kiss, one that carried all the unspoken promises of the night still ahead.

…

The next morning, Paige woke up groggily, the bright sunlight streaming through the window making it impossible to stay asleep. She stirred, trying to stretch, but stopped when she felt a comforting weight pinning her down. Azzi’s body was draped halfway over her, the other half sprawled across the bed. Paige couldn’t help but smile as her gaze landed on Azzi’s face, her soft features illuminated by the morning light.

A quiet laugh escaped Paige’s lips as she realized Azzi was definitely going to blame her for letting her fall asleep without her bonnet, she could already hear the teasing tone in her voice.

As if sensing Paige’s thoughts, Azzi began to stir, a groan slipping past her lips as she shielded her eyes from the sun. “Ugh, why is it so bright?” she mumbled, echoing Paige’s earlier thoughts.

Paige chuckled softly, shifting her body to block the sunlight from hitting Azzi’s face. “Better?” she asked gently, her voice warm and teasing.

When Azzi finally looked up at her, a sleepy smile spread across her face, her dimples appearing as her cheeks flushed slightly. “Good morning, pretty girl,” Paige said, her voice soft but filled with affection.

Azzi’s smile grew wider at the compliment, but she quickly tried to hide her face against Paige’s chest. “Mmm, too sleepy,” she mumbled, her voice muffled.

Paige laughed quietly and carefully shifted out from under Azzi, earning a small, dissatisfied grumble from her. She walked over to the window, pulling the blackout curtains closed and plunging the room into a comforting darkness.

As she returned to the bed, Azzi wasted no time, tugging Paige back down and pulling her close but before Paige could settle in, Azzi leaned up to press a soft, lingering kiss to her lips. Paige’s heart immediately fluttered at the tenderness of the moment, how casual Azzi was about it.

“Go back to sleep,” Azzi whispered, her words barely audible as she rested her head on Paige’s chest once more.

Paige wrapped her arms around Azzi, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and with Azzi’s steady breaths against her, Paige felt a sense of peace she hadn’t ever experienced. Slowly, they both drifted back to sleep as Paige realized she was completely in love with the girl laying on her chest.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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