#i am merely starting finals next week | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

thelov3lybookworm · 4 months ago

Text

Replaced

Summary: Rhysand thinks Azriel has become oldand deserves rest. And while Azriel loves his friend a lot, who the hell does he think he is telling Azriel what to do? The apprentice Rhysand has ordered Azriel to train isn't lessening his frustration either.

•○●⛦●○•

Word count: 1697

Warnings: azzie being a thirsty teenager, reader being sassy, azzie deciding he wants to be a flirty lil hoe lol

A/n: JDVNJDMSNCSDMCN OMGGG I LOVE YALL SOO MUCH I CANT TELL YOU HOW HAPPY I AM RN 😭😭😭 as a thank you gift for you all being so nice and supportive of me for over a year now, i present to youuuu my first fir for the celebration week hehe hope you all enjoyyy 🤭

p.s: I WOULD LIKE TO SAY THIS HERE AS WELL EVEN THO I THINK IVE SAID THIS BEFORE IN PRIVATE TO MY WIFEY POO. @berryzxx THANK YOU MY LOVE MY LIFE FOR LISTENING TO ME RANT ABOUT ALL THE FICS I EVER WRITE BUT ALSO ESPECIALLY THE CELEBRATION FICS AND HELPING ME COME UP WITH IDEAS🥹

p.p.s: based on an indian song i used to listen t nonstop which me and berry concluded i should not have been listening to lmaooo like what even was that 😭

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

"Any questions?"

Y/n shook her head, eyes fixed on the neat scribbles on the pristine white paper in her hands, going through the schedule handed to her for the tenth time.

"Perfect then," the high lord muttered, leaning forward, his elbows resting on the mahogany wood of the table in his office. "Be on time for your training, starting tomorrow. You know, my spymaster is a rule follower and hates tardiness."

Y/n dipped her head, finally meeting the glittering violet of her new employer, essentially.

She stood, knowing she was dismissed, and fell into a deep bow. "Thank you for this opportunity again, my lord. I might not be a shadowsinger, but I will prove to be an amazing spy."

"Looking forward to working with you, Y/n. Hope you will live up to your reputation."

As Y/n now stood in the training ring, sweat rolling down her body in rivulets, she wished she had asked Rhysand more questions about his spymaster. For starters, she should have asked if the male was a grown adult or a terrifying toddler.

Because by the way the high lord had sung praises in the illyrian’s name, talking about how patient, composed and kind he was, Y/n would have assumed he would be a pleasure to work with.

The overgrown manchild she had been training with was anything but.

As she stared into his hazel eyes, trying not to snap his pretty neck, Y/n wondered if he had serious personality disorder or he was going through some sort of mood swing. Because the male glaring down at her panting form was not the sweet, caring and soft spoken male Y/n had envisioned.

"You still have three laps left, and then hand to hand combat. Or are you as forgetful as you are untrained?"

Y/n straightened her back, her mouth shut tight as she released a frustrated breath through her nose. "I know how many laps are left, thank you very much. I am not old enough to forget things, especially not old enough to be replaced by someone better and younger."

His eyes flashed, his shadows thickening. The side of Y/n’s lips kicked up in satisfaction. Her remarks had found their mark. Without waiting for whatever words he was going to throw at her next, Y/n turned away, sprinting her way through the barely visible dirt path around the training ring.

He looked murderous the next time her eyes met his, but at least he wasn't yelling at her to speed up or your posture is shit.

Even though he put her through hell for the rest of the afternoon, it all passed in a blur, because the moment he turned away from her, his hands flicking in a dismissive gesture, she stalked over to the water station and gulped down two glasses of water.

In that moment, only she existed, the glass attached to her mouth and her parched throat weeping with joy.

Mother, thank you for giving us mere peasants water.

When she was done, she moved to retrieve her jacket discarded near the exit, only to find Azriel still present, now conversing in furious whispers with the Warlord.

Y/n had no interest in engaging with them, and by the way the general glanced at her, worry written all over his face, she knew he would try to corner her.

Swiftly, she picked up her jacket, slung it over her shoulders and began retreating towards where the two illyrians stood, hoping to sneak out of the space they weren’t blocking off when she heard their low voices.

"Still, you’re being too harsh Azriel-"

"If she wanted to be a spy for Rhys, she has to go through this training-"

"She’s already trained to be a spy, Az. quit being an asshole."

"If this is too hard for her and if she is going to go cry about it, then she doesn’t deserve this position."

Y/n stopped and turned to look at the bastard, who had the audacity to stare back with his eyebrows raised.

"Yes?" He grumbled, impatience rolling off him in waves, as if he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She let her eyes wander as she studied the illyrian with the red siphons, then back to Azriel. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Rhys has already discussed the time with you, has he not?"

"Aww, no need to get snappy, princess. I’m just making sure you are not backing out." she pouted, fluttering her lashes before turning away, grinning in triumph at the way his face turned red in anger.

Oh, was she going to have pleasant dreams tonight.

°•°•°•°•°•°

Azriel’s pov.

It had been a week since the fae female started training under Az, and he was beginning to lose hope.

He had put her through as much turmoil as he could, both mentally and physically. Still, she seemed determined to work for Rhys.

Maybe she only cared to prove Az wrong and stay, maybe she just wanted to annoy the fuck out of him.

Whatever the reason, she was resilient.

He put her through hours upon hours of gruelling work in the afternoon heat, yelled at her every chance he got, tried to get under her skin when he knew she would be most tired and likely to snap, put her through every torturous and unnecessary task under the sun. But still, she did not snap once.

Not once did Azriel think she was going to leave, not once did she threaten to leave, not once did she go to Rhys to ask him whether her training was supposed to be this gruelling when she was already trained from Prythian’s best spy training institution.

He was not going to pretend it did not make him respect her. Day by day, his curiosity increased, he wanted to know why she was still training under him, even though he did everything he could to bully her away.

And he was not going to pretend like it did not make him want to get to know her, maybe get closer, because he could not remember the last time a female had piqued his interest to this level.

He could feel it.

Feel himself falling, but of course, like the thick skulled bastard he was, he refused to accept the fact that his respect for her resilience was more than just that.

Sure, she made him wish for a taste, but he was not going to admit that.

He could already hear her soft pants as he got closer to the training area, his lips lifting on the corners unconsciously.

She was standing opposite one of the training dummies, honed in on the battered thing. It seemed like everything else had ceased to exist, like she couldn’t care less about anything going around her as she swung her sword at the dummy, again and again.

Her focus, the determination with which she trained even though her trainer wasn’t present…

It was hot.

She was hot.

She would probably have a sassy remark on her tongue if she knew the thoughts in his head, but she looked like she did not even realise he had arrived-

"Stop looking at my ass. And You’re late."

He glanced up, his eyes travelling slowly over her form as she turned to face him, her hands wrapped around the sword he had made her practice with yesterday. Her chest heaved, her shoulders moving along, the few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail, that smug smile on her lips…

And her eyes. They shone with delight at having caught him being tardy.

Deep down, it warmed him, but on the surface, his lips shifted into a sneer.

"I think this is enough training-"

She let out a laugh. "What?"

He stared at her, unamused.

"Sorry, it’s just… Do you have a fever?"

He sighed as she stepped forward, slapping away the hand she reached out to touch his forehead.

"If you want to continue, I have no problems. Get started, twenty laps."

She smirked. "That’s more like it."

He stared at her, bewildered as she cackled, then stepped closer.

"I think it’s slipping, spymaster."

He blinked. "What’s slipping?"

She rolled to her tiptoes, her mouth dangerously close to his ear. It made shivers run down his spine as his eyes focused on the training dummy on the far end of the ring covered in long slashes, the filling spilling out in a few spaces.

"Your facade." She whispered, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck.

He stiffened. "I don’t know what you mean-"

"Oh cut the crap spymaster, I see right through you."

Az turned his head to meet her gaze. "And what do you see?"

"I can see you, starting to like what you see."

It was like a cold breeze passed through the room, turning his body cold before his heat regulating system turned on again, making him feel hot all over.

"And what do I see?"

Azriel knew his game was over, knowing she knew he was beginning to like her, but he was not going to give in to her easily.

"Me. You see me, Azriel, and you like it." She stepped back, letting her hair loose as she manoeuvred around him. "Pity, you are not getting any of this. Not now, not anytime soon."

He turned on his spot, watching as she stalked away, and he knew damn well she was swaying her hips more than she usually does just to add salt to the wound.

Being a spymaster, he took note of the minute details, of course.

Before she vanished down the stairs, though, she turned to look at him. Her eyes roved leisurely over his figure, and when her eyes met his, she smirked, puckered her lips, blew him a kiss, and then sauntered off.

A challenge.

Azriel wasn’t known to be the most competitive person in the inner circle for no reason.

She had just challenged him, and Azriel would be damned if he lost.

He was going to win this one, and oh was he going to win spectacularly.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Permanent Taglist: @berryzxx @sarawritestories @milswrites @throneofsmut

@daycourtofficial @sweetorangeblossom @secret-third-thing

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686

@cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1

@hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21

@mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @lady-of-tearshed @starsinyourseyes

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady

@lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @garden-of-runar @girlswithimagination

@sunnyspycat @artists-ally @milswrites @kingdomofstarrynights

@buttermilktea11 @loving-and-dreaming @yucanbmylxdy

Azriel Taglist: @darthdumbasss @foreverrandomwritings @azrielsmate3 @celestialend

@stqrgirlies-blog @tele86 @bakananya @xyzmeh

@st4r-girl-official @caraaaaugh @nacho-nat @allllium

@fandomarchiveilyd @nickishadow139 @angel-graces-world-of-chaos

#azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel fic #acotar #acotar fandom #acotar fanfic #acotar fluff #acotar series #acotar writing #mating bond #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #acotar headcanon #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel x you

318 notes · View notes

imaginespazzi · 6 months ago

Text

Part 8: The Toxic In Intoxication

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14

Your mouth is poison (your mouth is wine)

(In which an all over the place writer, writes something that's a little bit all over the place)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Fluff, Jealousy,

Words: 9.0K

TW: Swearing, a little bit of violence, mentions of blood, men being men

A/N: Hi lovelies :) Unfortunately, as I've been warning y'all for a while, the deadline did finally slip through my fingers. However I'm hoping y'all will forgive me for it because I am only one day late and this chapter is quite long. I do wanna warn y'all in advance that there won't be a chapter next week because I am going on vacation and my laptop is staying very, very far away from me. There's a lot going on in this chapter and I'm not sure how I feel about the whole thing but I'm hoping y'all will enjoy it anyways. I did actually edit this time but who knows how successful that was, so please let me know about typos/mistakes. As always, feel free to tell me about what you liked, what you disliked and anything you'd like to see going forward. Have a lovely rest of your weeks my loves <3

August 2025

Azzi Fudd is a spectacular liar. She excels at keeping up a façade of yes everything is perfectly fine in front of her friends and family. She’s quite good at tricking people she can barely stand into thinking oh yes i’m totally enjoying this conversation. But the person Azzi lies the most to, is without a doubt herself. As she steps out of the car into the hot Indiana air, bustling with noises from the growing crowd inside, Azzi internally repeats a lie to herself again: she did not show up to all-star weekend for a glimpse of her ex girlfriend. She’s here, as per Colleen’s managerial advice, to build connections, to further her career and to expand on opportunities in the basketball world. The fact that Paige Bueckers, who Azzi hasn’t seen in three months -the longest period of time they’d spent apart since she’d started at UConn- is definitely also going to be attending tonight’s party, is merely a happenstance.

Taking a deep breath, Azzi puts one kitten heeled foot in front of the other, trying to ignore her heightened nerves. This isn’t her preferred scene by any means. She’d much rather be back in her hotel room, curled on her couch with a book and a pint of ice cream. It’s not that Azzi doesn’t like parties; she has her fair share of fun at Ted’s, but it’s the unfamiliarity of the environment and the lack of that once ever present comforting hand that used to tap out i’m here for you against the back of her own at big events like these, that has her yearning to crawl back into the car and hide away.

“Azzi?” a familiar voice calls from behind her and Azzi lets out a sigh of relief as she sees Aaliyah walking towards her with a large welcoming grin, “Azeray!”

“Li-Li. Thank god you’re here,” Azzi reaches up to hug her former teammate, mentally thanking whatever god was looking out for her. She’d dreaded walking in by herself and now she wouldn’t have to. Really she probably should probably send Coach a ‘thank you’ text for having so many alumni in the league that there was bound to be a Husky she could attach herself to for the night.

“I’m glad to see you too Az,” Aaliyah says, pulling away and looking at Azzi with a semi-concerned look, “but you seem a little extra relieved to see me? You good dude?”

“Just- just a little nervous,” Azzi admits, shuffling her feet uneasily.

Realization dawns on Aaliyah’s face, “cause of Paige?”

“No you know I don’t like big unfamiliar places,” Azzi sighs when Aaliayh gives her a pointed look, “but I guess maybe- maybe a little cause of Paige.”

The Mystics forward shakes her head before linking her arms through Azzi’s, “I swear, I leave y’all for one year and everything implodes-," she bites her tongue, "shit was that insensitive?”

“No,” Azzi grimaces, “that’s pretty much exactly what happened.”

Something hard coils in her stomach at Aaliyah’s words. The truth is they’d been fine. Better than fine even. And then suddenly Azzi was lighting a box of matches she hadn’t even known she was holding and her whole world was on fire; an implosion of everything Azzi had once thought inflammable. She’d burned her hands trying to rescue them and all she has to show for it are invisible red hot pustules that refuse to heal. But perhaps, she thinks, that’s what a pyromaniac like her had deserved.

Azzi cowers under the flashing lights of the cameras, clinging tighter to Aaliyah’s arm as the two of them make their way onto the orange carpet, the cameramen immediately swinging their devices to capture the college basketball player more than likely to be the number one pick in next year’s WNBA draft. She feels herself tense under their piercing gaze, anchored only by Aaliyah's strong and steady presence next to her. And as they pose for the cameras, she’s thankful for her former teammate’s company but she can’t shake the feeling that it should have been someone else.

“And look who we have here,” Lexie Brown says excitedly as the two of them approach the interviewer, “y’all Huskies clean up nice.”

“We try, we try,” Aaliyah answers charismatically, doing a little hair flip to match her tone.

“Aaliyah, it's your first all-star nod, how are you feeling?”

“I feel great, you know it’s always good to see yourself being acknowledged and being an all-star has always been a goal of mine. So, I hope it’s the first of many and I’m just hoping my team gets the W tomorrow,” Aaliyah answers diplomatically.

Lexie turns to Azzi, “I bet you’re really proud of her. I mean you’ve got a couple of teammates who are first-time all stars between Aaliyah and Paige. You’ve gotta be feeling pretty proud of them”

“Y-yeah I mean,” Azzi clears her throat, trying not to flinch at the mention of Paige’s name, “It’s been- it’s been really exciting to watch them and I’m extremely proud-”

She’s cut off by the sound of excited chatter filling up the air and Azzi doesn’t have to turn around to know who’s just entered the premises. Not when she has a whole separate sensory system that flares up just for her. Azzi’s skin prickles as she registers the sound of familiar peals of laughter echoing from the orange carpet. She digs her nails into the palm of her hand, forcing herself not to turn around.

“Speak of the devil,” Lexie says goodnaturedly, getting her hand ready to beckon the blonde over and Azzi feels panic suffocate her lungs, not quite ready to face Paige yet.

“Oh I don’t think-” Aaliyah tries to cut in, glancing worriedly at her friend but it’s too late.

“Paige,” Lexie calls out, beaming over Azzi’s head at the Dallas Wings’ newest star point guard.

The world seems to move in slow motion as Azzi feels Paige getting closer and closer to her. She smells the faint scent of fresh mint weaved with a hint of citrus first. Then she hears the sound of Paige’s breathing, perfectly even to anybody else but Azzi can hear the staggered harshness hidden beneath it. And as the blonde passes over her to settle on Lexi’s other side, she feels Paige’s arm brush against her own and it hurts to breathe. The contact lasts for a second but Azzi swears it’ll last forever, tattooing itself on her bicep as a wretched reminder of a touch she’s no longer allowed to crave.

It’s funny, there’s a hurricane swirling between them and Paige can barely look at Azzi, keeping her eyes firmly on Lexie and Aaliyah as she greets the trio. And yet, there’s a sense of calm -of peace- that seems to wash over Azzi just by having Paige near her again. The older woman seems to possess some sort of magical power that weaves itself into Azzi’s nervous system, soothing away her frazzled nerves with an unspoken promise of and if you give me the chance i’ll make it all okay.

Despite the hectic transition from a full college season to a frantic W season, Paige looks ethereal as always. Her two piece cropped vest top and straight fitted pants match the color of her eyes and a silver chain dangles across her chest. Two strands of blonde hair hide her signature diamond studs, the rest of it pulled back into a slightly messy bun. Azzi gulps at the way the vest top parts right above her midriff, Paige’s toned abs playing peek-a-boo behind it. She lets her eyes roam over Paige’s exposed arms, trying to ignore memories of how they used to go taut under her touch, down to the blonde’s bare fingers and she feels her heart constrict. No rings. It feels wrong. But then again, nothing has felt right for three months.

“Azzi,” Aaliyah hisses and Azzi snaps out of her thoughts, realizing she’d been asked a question.

“Sorry,” she laughs nervously, moving a strand of her hair out of her face; Paige’s eyes intently following the movement, “what was the question.”

Lexie smiles, “I was just asking about your thoughts on Paige’s amazing rookie year so far?”

“Oh um-” Azzi hesitates, shivers inching up her spine as she feels Paige drinking in the sight of the her body like she's a woman parched, “I’m just-” their eyes lock with each other’s and everything else seems to vanish until it feels like it’s just the two of them floating in between remnants of what they used to be, “I’m just really proud of her. I always knew she’d be amazing. She’s just doing what she always does. Being the best player she can be. So yeah I’m just- I’m just really proud of her.”

And Azzi doesn’t know how they got to this point where Paige seems almost shocked that Azzi could be proud of her, to this point where there’s droplets threatening to spill over both of their water lines and they no longer have the right to wipe each other’s tears away.

“Aww,” Lexie coos, oblivious to the tension, “well on that sweet note, off y’all go and we’ll see y’all later.”

The walk into the party is kept alive with Aaliyah’s attempt at keeping a conversation going. While Paige tries to at least entertain some of, Azzi finds herself completely zoning out until they finally make their way inside into the cacophony of music and laughter.

“Y’all wanna get-” Aaliyah begins.

“I see Jewell and Téa,” Paige cuts her off immediately, her legs already moving in a rush, “I’ll see y’all later.”

She gives Aaliyah a tentative grin but barely looks at Azzi as she practically trips over her pant-sleeves trying to get away. It feels like something’s biting against her skin, sharp teeth indenting you did this to yourself as Azzi watches Paige walk away. She watches as the tension slowly leaves the blonde’s muscles as she’s pulled into a hug by Jewell and then by Téa. The fake smile that she’d politely kept on her face the last couple of minutes for the sake of the cameras and reporters is replaced by something far more genuine. Azzi watches as Paige is absorbed into the warmth of the growing crowd, embraced by a league that adores her, and she feels the ice cold pinch of she belongs somewhere without you now start to freeze her own heart.

***

Azzi’s doing fine. She’s gotten through the night with Aaliyah by her side, making small talk with a bunch of different players and she’s managed to keep a friendly smile the whole time. She’d even danced for a little bit, letting loose with some of the other college basketball players that had made the trip to Indianapolis. Sure, she’d occasionally been distracted by her eyes flickering over to the bar and finding a new pretty influencer batting their fake eyelashes at Paige but really she’s doing fine. Her head’s a little dizzy and maybe the third shot of tequila, influenced by a one leggy brunette that had gotten a little too handsy, wasn’t her brightest decision of the night but really, Azzi’s doing fine.

Until she’s not.

And it’s Paige's fault. She had to know that it would be Azzi’s last straw. She had to know that Azzi could live with watching a thousand girls flirt with Paige as long as the blonde in question stood rigidly by the bar doing nothing but smiling politely at them. She had to know that Azzi, after having spent most of their college life watching girls fawn over her girlfriend, could deal with the flirty hands that lingered just a little too long on Paige’s bicep. But it’s when Paige leans into this one girl -whose dark curls and tanned caramel skin are just a little too reminiscent of her own- when Paige’s lips graze just a little to close this one girl’s ear, that Azzi realizes she’s decidedly not fine.

“I need some air,” she manages to bite out, ignoring Aaliyah’s concerned look as she marches out the back door, heading towards the deck.

Azzi buries her face in her hands as she leans back against the brick wall. She knows she’s being unfair; knows she has absolutely no right to feel this way but something burns within her anyways and the light breeze does nothing to cool it down.

“I’m not cheating on you,” a harsh voice interrupts her pity party and Azzi sucks in a sharp breath, “We’re not together and I can flirt or kiss or fuck-” she flinches, “anyone if I want to.”

“I know.”

“Do you?” Paige’s voice is laced with accusation, “because the way you just stormed out says otherwise.”

Azzi continues to keep her head in her palms, refusing to look at the blonde, “it’s hot and stuffy in there. I just needed some fresh air.”

“Don’t you ever get tired of lying,” Paige spits out.

“Well what do you want me to say instead?” Azzi finally looks up, her even cadence in stark contrast to Paige’s fiery tone, “I know we’re not together-”

“Because that’s what you wanted-”

“I know,” Azzi yells, and then quieter, “I know. I know I- I know I did this. But that- that doesn’t make it any easier to see you with someone else,” she swallows, “doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Doesn’t mean I don’t miss you.”

Paige scoffs, rubbing her face as she begins to pace, “you miss me? I was at Mohegan when y’all had summer camp. The whole team showed up to the game except for you and you want me to believe that you miss me?”

“I didn’t think you’d want me there,” Azzi confesses in a whisper, “you were so mad at me after-after everything- and I just- I didn’t want to ruin coming back to Connecticut for you.”

“For me,” Paige lets out a laugh devoid of any emotion, “god Azzi there you go again with this fake ‘selfless’ bullshit.”

A thousand and one retorts die on the tip of Azzi’s tongue as she shakes her head and pushes herself off the wall. She can smell the alcohol on Paige, can tell the blonde is itching for an argument but all she feels is pure exhaustion.

“I don’t wanna fight Paige. I’m tired and I just-” she bites her lip, fighting the urge to caress Paige’s cheek, “believe it or don’t but- I really do miss you.”

Sparks of electricity dance their way through Azzi’s veins when Paige curls a hand around her wrist, stopping her in her tracks from going inside. And suddenly she doesn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Dance with me,” Paige whispers.

“What?”

Paige shrugs, tugging on Azzi’s hand to pull her closer, “you said you don’t wanna fight and I- I don’t want you to go,” the confession hangs between them as Paige’s hands fall to Azzi’s waist, “so- let’s just- let’s pretend.”

“What are we pretending?” Azzi asks quietly and despite the warnings ringing in her head, she wraps her arms around Paige’s neck. It feels like coming home.

“We’re pretending that we’re okay,” Paige says softly, holding Azzi’s hips as she begins to sway them gently, “we’re pretending that three months ago you said yes.”

“Paige-”

“Close your eyes Azzi,” the blond waves her hand gently across Azzi’s face, willing both of their eyelids to flutter shut, “we’re pretending that we’re not here- we’re in Minnesota or DC or I don’t know just- anywhere. And our families are here, laughing and talking and some sappy romantic song is playing. It's the best day of our lives and we’re both- we're both dressed in white-”

“Paige,” Azzi lets out a sob, as she begins to understand the picture Paige is painting for them; a picture drawn on a canvas that Azzi had torn up before any color could touch it

“Sshhhh just- let me have this okay,” Paige’s voice trembles as she leans her forehead against Azzi’s, “if I can’t have it for real, please just let me pretend.”

If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Azzi would fight Paige’s tightening grip. If they were both just a little bit more sober, maybe Paige would let go. Instead Azzi lets Paige play pretend, lets them keep their bodies pressed against each other, moving from side to side in rhythm with the wind.

It isn’t until she hears footsteps approaching them that Azzi hurriedly moves away first and she can see the betrayal of if only you’d just let me hold you in front of the world written all over Paige’s face. They’re both quick to swap their tears for smiles that don’t reach their eyes as they turn to face the intruders. And Azzi wonders if Paige wishes she’d drank a little bit more too. Because maybe if they were both just a little more drunk, then tomorrow they wouldn’t have to remember just how right it had felt to play pretend tonight.

April 2033

“You look so pretty Mama,” Stephie gushes from where she’s perched on the bed as she watches Azzi put the finishing touches to her makeup

“Thanks baby,” Azzi smiles, blowing a kiss in the mirror.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie flips the running facetime call, skipping over to her mother with the phone in her hand, “doesn’t Mama look beautiful?”

Sixteen years later, and maybe it’s because of all the time they’d missed in between, but Azzi can’t help the bout of shyness that flushes across her features when Stephie places the phone, Paige’s face illuminated all over it, against the mirror so the blonde can get a proper look at Azzi’s outfit.

“You look-” Paige clears her throat, eyes dilated as they rake over Azzi’s whole body, “you look phenomenal.”

“Big word Bueckers,” Azzi teases, trying to disguise her blush, “did you just learn it?”

Paige rolls her eyes, “can’t even give you a compliment without an insult Fudd.”

“You guys argue too much,” Stephie says exasperatedly, shaking her head at the two adults who laugh. The younger girl sometimes seems far wise beyond her age.

“We’re not arguing Stephie, we’re just-” Azzi struggles to think of a word.

“Foreplaying,” Paige mutters under her breath and Azzi immediately glares at her.

“Paige!”

Stephie scrunches up her nose at the screen, “what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Azzi says shrilly, “Miss Buecks is just making up words.”

“Why would Miss Buecks do that?” Stephie asks, looking back and forth between her mother and the screen.

“Why does Miss Buecks do anything,” Azzi babbles, as she begins to usher Stephie out of her room, “go grab your things Stephie-bean. Mama’s almost ready to drop you off at Nana and Pop’s house.”

Stephie pouts, “I wanna go to the party with you and Miss Buecks. It’s no fair you both get to go and I don’t,” she picks up the phone, looking at Paige with wide guilt-tripping eyes, “don’t you love me Miss Buecks?”

Azzi has to hand it to her daughter. She’s a smart one to choose Paige as the victim of her emotional blackmail, knowing her wiles had long stopped working on her mother.

“You know I’d take you with me if I could Stephie,” Paige says, “but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow I swear.”

Stephie smiles and Azzi shakes her head at how quickly the five-year old’s plan had worked, “you’ll take me to the park and then we’ll get fries and then get ice cream?”

“That’s a lot of junk food Steph-”

“Ssshh Mama,” Stephie chides, “this is between me and Miss Buecks.”

“The park, then fries, then ice cream it is,” Paige concedes and Azzi rolls her eyes.

Stephie grins brightly, puckering her lips to kiss Paige through the phone and eliciting a laugh from the older woman when she cheers, “you’re the best-est-est Miss Buecks. See you in a little bit. Don’t hang up without saying goodnight.”

“I promise I won’t,” Paige calls out after the little girl as Stepehie hands the phone back to Azzi and starts skipping towards her room.

Azzi gives the blonde a look, “we have got to have a conversation about you learning to say no to her.”

Paige shrugs unhelpfully, “I don’t want to learn how to say no to her.”

“You’re a lost cause,” Azzi remarks, hands on hips, “and foreplay? Seriously? Us bickering is not foreplay.”

“Well it could be if you’d just let me fuck you after,” Paige grumbles and Azzi’s mouth falls open at the bluntness of it.

“You say the most romantic things to me Paige Bueckers.”

They’re both quiet for a second as Azzi moves around her room, collecting her wallet and keys and to put into her purse.

“You know there’s still time for me to come pick you up,” Paige says finally.

“Paige,” Azzi sighs, not wanting a rerun of the same argument they’ve been having for the last week. She knows it’s a touchy subject for Paige; that it veers a little too close to insecurities that stem from their past but she’s not quite ready to take this step yet. There isn’t quite any rhyme or reason to her logic except well, she’s haunted by memories of the last time they’d let the personal mix with the professional. Her phone still holds invitations to countless team reunions that she’d actively avoided and a group chat that she’s long muted. Azzi hasn’t stepped foot in the state of Connecticut since she’d entered the draft; she refuses to lose California too.

“Teammates can carpool,” Paige explains vehemently, “it’s easily explainable.’

“I know-”

“Is this about Clémence?” bitterness tinges the edge of Paige’s voice as she chews her bottom lip. And there it is, the other subject they’d been tip-toeing around since it had been brought up at breakfast a week ago. Paige and Azzi are both excellent at avoiding talking about the harder topics but they’ve never quite managed to let anything go forever.

“Why would this be about Clémence?”

Paige narrows her eyes, sitting up from where she’d previously been lounging against her pillow, “maybe you don’t want her to see us together? Maybe you’re trying to spare her feelings I don’t know.”

“Paige-”

“You know what it’s fine,” Paige huffs, “I’ll see you at the bar Azzi.”

She hangs up before Azzi can say anything and the brunette lets out a litany of curses under her breath, annoyed with Paige’s ability to go from A to Z by skipping everything in between. There’s a part of her that knows Paige deserves an explanation about Clémence, a chance to have her lingering doubts confirmed or denied, but amidst the egoistic thoughts of well she married someone else and the self preservationist urge to prevent a potential fight, she hadn’t been brave enough to approach the topic just quite yet. Azzi’s about to step out of the room, when her phone pings with a facetime call from Paige again.

“Are you calling to apologize for hanging up?” Azzi asks with a frown.

“No,” Paige replies stubbornly, “I called because I hung up without saying goodnight to Stephie and just because I’m mad at you doesn’t mean I’m gonna miss saying goodnight to her.”

Something wonderful and warm blooms in Azzi’s chest as she silently walks over to Stephie’s room. This is a new chapter in Paige’s storybook that she’s slowly beginning to read; one scribbled with the blonde’s devotion to Azzi’s baby girl. Azzi still has every other chapter memorized; had thought nothing could be more beautiful than the words within the one that had been dedicated to her. But she’d been wrong. Because every day that she watches Paige and Stephie fall more and more in love with each other, she finds herself falling in love with how much they love each other.

“Miss Buecks,” Stephie squeals, practically snatching the phone from her mother’s hand as she goofily grins at the screen, “you didn’t hang up.”

“I promised I wouldn’t,” Paige says, the hardness that had existed in her voice while talking to Azzi, dissolving into adulation, “you be good for Nana and Pops okay?”

“I’m always good,” Stephie says matter-of-factly, “can you come over really, really, early tomorrow?”

Paige laughs, “I’ll be there as soon as I wake up.”

“Good,” Stephie claps contentedly as she grabs Azzi’s hand to start walking towards the car, “good night Miss Buecks.”

“Good night Stephie-bean,” Paige echoes, blowing a kiss through the screen.

“Paige,” Azzi says urgently, trying to stop the older woman from hanging up, “can you just hold on a second while I buckle Stephie in.”

“Az-”

“Please.”

“Fine,” Paige says, averting Azzi’s gaze as she sulks.

Azzi lifts Stephie onto the car seat, fastening her seatbelt and pressing a kiss to her daughter’s cheek, before she closes the car door and uses it as a stabilizing structure to lean on as she pulls her phone back in front of her.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” Paige says back begrudgingly, “you wanted to say something?”

“I-” Azzi swallows, “don’t go the bar-”

“Oh fantastic,” Paige cuts her off, her voice furious as she glares daggers at Azzi through the phone, “not only do you not want to go to the bar together, you don’t want me to go at all. Fine. Okay. Whatever. I won’t go. You have the time of your life with fucking Clementine or whatever-”

“Yet,” Azzi says loudly, trying to speak over Paige’s angry rant, “don’t go to the bar yet.”

“What?”

Azzi licks her lips, “don’t go yet. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents-”

“What does that have to-”

“Will you just let me fucking finish?” Azzi almost bangs her fist on the car in frustration and she’s glad to see that it makes Paige look just a little bit sheepish, “as I was saying. I’m gonna drop Stephie off at my parents and uh- your house- it’s um- it’s on the way to the bar so I thought,” she shrugs with fake nonchalance, the edge of her mouth turning upwards, “I thought maybe- maybe I could pick you up on the way.”

Paige stares blankly at the screen, eyes blinking as Azzi’s words slowly register, “you- you wanna go to the bar together?”

“I didn’t say that,” Azzi teases, eyes twinkling as she basks in the thrill of eliciting that Azzi smile from Paige’s lips, “teammates carpool right?”

“Teammates definitely carpool.”

April 2029

“You invited Clémence to our movie night?” Jana asks in a whisper, as she walks into the kitchen where Azzi’s making popcorn. Her Saturday nights have gotten rather boring since she’s had Stephie, consisting of alternating between movie nights with Jana and dinner with her parents. It wasn’t the most thrilling of times but she looked forward to them all week, excited to not have to spend a night in solitude.

“She asked what I was doing tonight and I told her we were having a movie night and then she asked if she could join and well I couldn’t just say no,” Azzi explains, sticking the bag into the microwave.

Jana cocks an eyebrow, “do you want me to leave?”

“Why would I want you to leave?” Azzi asks, crinkling her nose as she juts out an ear just in case the baby monitor goes off.

“C’mon Az,” Jana says pointedly, leaning on her elbows against the kitchen counter, “you’re telling me there’s nothing going on between the two of you?”

Azzi grimaces uneasily, not quite wanting to answer the question, “nothing that would require you to leave.”

“If that’s the way you want to play it,” Jana relents, grabbing a soda from the fridge on her way back to the living room, before she pauses in the doorway to look back at Azzi, “but I know what it looks like when somebody’s in love with you. And that girl out there,” she nods her head towards where Clémence is daintily sitting on the couch, “she’s definitely getting there.”

Jana’s a rather observant person but Azzi knows that she’s at least a little bit wrong this time. Because Clémence might be a little bit in love with -even if that’s not a fact Azzi particularly wants to acknowledge- but it's impossible for her to look at Azzi the way Jana remembers someone else looking at her. That had been something completely different; a gaze that saw all the little chinks in her armor, all the imperfections carved against her walls and loved her inspite of them, maybe even because of them. Clémence might love her, but Azzi doesn’t think anyone can be in love with her the way the person she’d been hopelessly in love with, had.

When she walks back into the living room with the popcorn in hand, still plagued by her younger teammate’s words, Azzi’s deliberate to sit on the couch next to Jana instead of the open space next to the francophone. The flash of hurt in Clémence’s eye causes guilt to trickle down her spine but Azzi thinks a flash is better than the tsunami of pain she could cause if she doesn’t start to ease herself out of this right now. There’s a selfish part of her that doesn’t want to, that’s going to miss having somebody who hangs onto her every word. Azzi likes this feeling of being wanted, even if it’s not by the person she wants. But that person isn’t hers to want anymore and she won’t torture Clémence by barricading her in the same jail that has held Azzi’s soul captive for the last four years.

They’re about half way through the movie, awkward tension eased by Jana’s incessant chatter, when Azzi’s phone buzzes. Already confused at the timing of the call, she’s even more perplexed to see Ice’s name flashing on the screen.

“Oooh Iceyyy,” Jana’s eyes light up when she catches a glimpse of the CallerID, “put her on speaker. Ice is one of our UConn teammates,” she explains, turning to Clémence who nods in recognition, “she probably did something dumb as fuck and need Azzi’s advice.”

“Don’t be mean,” Azzi scolds with a grin, knowing that Jana’s probably right as she picks up the call, “hello-”

“I hate you,” Azzi freezes at the sound of the familiar voice, laced with unfamiliar malice. Next to her Jana stiffens immediately while Clémence observes the scene in front of her with a guarded frown.

“Paige who the fuck are you calling?” Ice’s voice is muffled in the background, “oh shit, Paige give me back my phone.”

“No. She needs to hear this,” Paige grits out, her pitch wavering with the effects of alcohol, “she needs to hear how much I fucking hate her. Azzi do you hear me? I can hear you breathing. I know you’re there. Did you hear what I said?”

“Paige,” Ice hisses again.

Azzi swallows the lump in her throat, fingers digging into her bare thighs as she grips her phone so hard, she half-expects it to break into pieces in a reflection of her heart, “I heard you Paige.”

“Good. Because I do. I really fucking hate you,” Paige repeats again and Azzi flinches, “you ruined me Azzi. And now you’re ruining my marriage. My wife is perfect. She loves me. She loves being seen with me. She loves being known as my wife. Everything I ever wanted from you, she’s willing to give me. But she saw that damn hug at the Olympics and she- she’s upset with me. She thinks- she thinks I’m not over you.”

“Az maybe you should-” Jana says softly but Azzi immediately raises a hand to stop her. Maybe she’s a masochist but she can hear the hurt laced underneath the anger in Paige's voice. And if what Paige needs to get rid of her pain is a target to aim all her arrows at, then Azzi’s willing to sacrifice her heart, or at least what little is still left of it.

“And the worst thing about it,” Paige’s voice breaks, “is that she's probably right. I have the perfect fucking woman at home and I can’t seem to get over the one who broke my heart and never looked back. Isn’t that pathetic?”

“Paige,” Ice pleads again and Azzi can hear her former teammate trying her best to wrangle the phone out of Paige’s firm grasp.

“I’m not done yet Ice. I need to talk to her and I need to talk to her now because if I don’t, I’ll never get the courage to say any of this again,” Paige is sobbing now, and her broken whimpers pierce Azzi’s heart deeper than any words could, “why couldn’t you just have said yes Az? I know- I know your reasons but why- why couldn’t you have just loved me enough to look past them? How do you do it Azzi? How do you live without me because it’s been four years and I- I still don’t think I know how to live without you and I hate you, I hate you because you do.”

No, Azzi thinks, I really don’t. But she doesn’t say anything, rapidly blinking back tears as she avoids both Jana’s concerned look and Clémence’s more thoughtful gaze.

“I wish I could just feel nothing towards you Azzi,” Paige confesses, heaving as she struggles to breathe through her tears, “I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to miss you and I really- I really, really don’t want to love you. Please just make it stop. I’m so tired of this Azzi. I’m so tired of hurting. How do I make it go away? Please tell me how I make it go away? How did you make it go away?”

“I didn’t,” Azzi whispers, so soft she’s not sure Paige heard it; she’s not sure if she wants Paige to have heard it. It’s the kind of pain, she thinks, she’s destined to feel forever. It’s weaved itself into every crevice of body and now it exists as just another innate part of her. Paige thinks Azzi’s learned to live without her but really all Azzi’s learned is how to live with these permanent scars of i think i’ll miss you forever.

“That’s enough Paige,” Ice’s voice is clearer now, having finally snatched the phone out of her teammate’s grip, “Azzi-” she begins apologetically, “she’s just drunk. She didn’t mean-”

“She did,” Azzi clears her throat, sinking into the way Jana's arms wrap around her, “she’s um- she’s gonna be really hungover in the morning. Make sure she- make sure you give her water but don’t- don’t give her coffee. She’ll want it but it’ll only make it worse because she uh- she- when she drinks too much, her stomach hurts and the caffeine- it just- it makes it worse so- don’t let her drink coffee tomorrow morning okay? And make sure- make sure she eats something before she takes painkillers. And Ice?’

“Yeah Azzi.”

“If she doesn’t remember any of this tomorrow morning, please don’t remind her.”

***

April 2033

The bar is buzzing with noise by the time Paige and Azzi finally arrive. It’s an exclusive enough place that they won’t be too bothered by fans asking for pictures and autographs but the size of the crowd still puts Azzi a little bit on edge. She can’t help the small smile that flitters across her face when she feels Paige’s hand resting on her lower back as the blonde guides the two of them through the crowd in search of their teammates. For the last eight years, Azzi has been her own protector and she’s learned to guard herself but it’s nice -it feels right- to have someone else ready to be her shield too.

“You know Bueckers,” Joyce says as the two of them finally approach the table that had been reserved for the Valkyries, “some might say that one should be on time when meeting their new teammates. Just a thought.”

“And some might say Edwards that being fashionably late is being on time,” Paige quips back.

Joyce grins, “alright time for introductions.”

“I’m pretty sure I know-”

“Shut up,” Joyce reprimands, throwing an arm around Paige’s shoulders, “let me introduce these brand new people to you.”

“They’re not-”

“Sssshhh. Let me have my fun. We’ll start over here with Westbeld and Booker. You might know them, their teams kicked your ass during the 23-24 season,” Joyce says with a smirk.

“Oh I do remember that,” Paige says thoughtfully, eyes twinkling with mirth, “what happened the season after?”

“Don’t be cocky Bueckers. It’s unbecoming,” Madison chides as she rises from the table to give Paige a hug.

“Yeah I try not to remember that Elite Eight game thanks,” Laila says, making a disgusted face.

Joyce glares at her, “did I introduce you yet Miss Phelia?”

Laila raises her hands in surrender as Joyce continues to give Paige a tour of the Valkyrie team. Azzi had known that Paige would fit in well with her teammate -really the blonde had the uncanny ability to fit in anywhere- but seeing it realized in front of her, it seems even clearer. Paige feels like the last mosaic piece, slotting in right where she belongs.

“Those two over there are our babies,” Joyce points to Haylen and Jayla, “they’re like five years old but we love them anyways.”

“I’m almost 25,” Haylen protests.

“See,” Joyce remarks, “literally children. And that one,” she points to Jana who beams at Paige, “well you already know her even if you sometimes wish you didn’t probably-”

“Hey!”

“Oh shush Jana,” Joyce says airily, “and I supposed there’s no point in introducing Azzi to you since y’all came together,” she pauses to look between them, “y’all don’t live that close to each other. Why didn’t you just carpool with Jana? I’m pretty sure she lives closer to you.”

Paige opens and closes her mouth a couple of times as Azzi feels her own cheeks heat up at the innocent enough question, “we um- well it's just- you see- my house is on the way from her parents and she had to drop off Stephie so it just- it just made sense you know? For efficiency’s sake.”

“Oh yeah for efficiency’s sake. They’re both very efficient,” Jana smirks, “makes a lot of sense.”

Joyce gives all three of them a weird look, “y’all Huskies are strange. It was just a question but anyways,” she grins as she finally steers Paige towards the blonde in the corner and Azzi stiffens at the way Paige’s body immediately tenses, “a couple of our teammates aren’t here but we do have a former teammate. Paige meet Clémence.”

“We’ve met,” Paige says, attempting to school her features to resemble anything but the discomfort she’s feeling within, “during the Olympics that is. We’ve beat France a couple of times.”

It’s a purposeful word choice, beat instead of played and Azzi's fingers fidget with the hem of her top as she tries to avoid looking at either of the two women.

“Yes. It is good to see you again,” Clémence says tersely, her French accent stronger than the last time Azzi had spoken to her. She shakes Paige’s hand rather formally before her eyes focus on Azzi and she determinedly walks towards the brunette, “and it is really good to see you Azzi. I have missed you.”

“I-” Azzi stutters at the French woman pulls her into a hug; over her shoulder she can practically see steam coming out of Paige’s ears as she hyper focuses on how Clémence makes it a point rub her thumb down Azzi’s back, “it’s um- it’s good to see you too.”

She pulls away and she can feel the disappointment reverberating from Clémence’s body as Azzi practically flings herself on the chair next to Jana, wondering what she’d done to deserve this moment as a punishment for her sins.

“Save me,” she pleads as Clémence and Paige sit as far away from each other as possible, occasionally shooting glares when they think the other isn’t looking.

“Save you from having two hot women fighting over you?” the center teases, “you truly have such first world problems Azzi Fudd.”

“They’re not fighting over me-”

“Azzi you will have your usual rum and coke no?” Clémence asks and Azzi looks over to where the francophone is intently staring at her, “I will go-”

“Oh there’s no need,” Paige says immediately, “you sit Clémence. You already have a drink. I was gonna go get one for myself and I’ll get Azzi’s too. Besides, Azzi's more of a fruity drink girl. Az I’ll get you a piña colada-”

Clémence narrows her eyes, “maybe she liked that when she was in college but Azzi likes something different now.”

“She might like something different now,” Paige counters, standing up aggressively so she towers over the table, “but she’s always gonna love a piña colada right Azzi?”

All eyes turn to look at Azzi who wants nothing more than to cower under the table- or hit Jana who seems to find this very unamusinging situation rather entertaining, “I um-” she swallows, “I think tonight calls for something stronger. Round of shots for the table? On me?”

It placates the situation for a while as the rest of the team cheers on the idea, beckoning over one of the bartenders to orders a round of tequila shots for the table. For a moment, Azzi tricks herself into thinking maybe that’ll be the end of ridiculous situations for the night as the team downs shots to Jana yelling “to the Valkyries” but she should have known it was wishful thinking.

Half the team ends up on the dance floor, swaying to the mixed rhythm of the music and the newly minted alcohol coursing through their bloodstreams. Azzi watches with a smile as despite her protests, Joyce manages to drag Paige onto the dance floor with her, engaging her in some eccentric dance moves as they try to outdo each other on who can look the silliest. And as the rest of the girls cheer the blonde on, it feels like Paige is chiseling out a place for herself in another part of Azzi’s world.

“She is easy to love,” Clémence’s hot breath fans Azzi’s ear as the francophone takes Jana’s empty seat next to the brunette.

“Clém-” Azzi sighs.

“She fits in well with the team,” Clémence continues, something wistful in her voice, “I have seen her play. She will fit in well on the court with you guys as well. She will fit in well next to you.”

“That’s the hope,” Azzi says softly as she tilts her head to look at the other woman, “you fit in well too. I mean it Clém. We’ll miss you at GSV.”

Clémence smiles bitterly, “I would have liked to stay but they needed the cap space so they could sign her. She- she’s quite expensive. I mean considering she is casually wearing swarovski crystals on her neck in a bar on a random Saturday night, I am not surprised.”

The two of them laugh despite the gravity that looms heavily over them. Azzi and Clémence haven’t been anything in a long time but she’d never quite shut the possibility of a potential future done. She can hear the lock ready to click now. It’s bittersweet doing the right thing but as Paige glances over from the dancefloor, eyes darting cautiously between the two of them, Azzi knows that she doesn’t want to keep any other doors open. Not when the one with Paige’s name etched on the door handle, leads to home.

“One last dance?” Clémence asks softly, holding out her hand.

Azzi hesitates, knowing that it would irritate Paige but she thinks she probably owes Clémence this and so she smiles and takes the francophone’s outstretched hand as they join their other teammates. It’s nothing beyond friendly and they both keep their hands to themselves as they sway to the music, but Azzi can feel the annoyance radiating off of Paige from across the dancefloor. She would never admit it, perhaps it’s a little toxic of her, but there’s a certain thrill to making Paige jealous. There’s something about the way the blonde’s blue eyes flare with ice cold envy, the way her jaw hardens as she grinds her teeth. The way she looks at Azzi like if she had her way she’d drag the brunette out of the bar and mark her with a possessive you’re mine you’re mine youre mine. It makes Azzi clench her thighs together as she tries to focus on Clémence.

“I understand now,” the francophone says thoughtfully as Azzi’s peers up at her in confusion, “when you told me that you could not be with me. I get it.”

“I don’t-”

“You are here with me but you aren’t actually. You will always be with her,” Clémence tilts her head towards Paige, “you always have been. I understand now,” she says again simply before her face hardens, “even after all those words she said to you on the phone that night.”

Azzi’s stomach curls at the reminder. She knows exactly what night Clémence is referring to. Sometimes when she closes her eyes, it’s those words, coated in anger and malice, that shower around her like acid rain, seeping into her skin and infecting her bloodstream.

“I told you, you deserved better,” Clémence says and Azzi gulps, “but you said- you said you deserved worse. I hope you don’t believe that anymore Azzi. Just because you hurt her doesn’t mean you need to let her hurt you too.”

“I-” Azzi’s cut off by a hard body ramming into her own and she feels herself going stumbling back into the unwanted arms of a random man, “I’m sorry,” she says tersely, struggling to get out his grip.

“No worries pretty girl,” he says toothily, the heavy stench of alcohol in his breath making Azzi feel nauseous, “but now that you’re here, how about I buy you a drink.”

“No thank you,” Azzi says sternly, trying to push the man away but he’s relentless.

“Aw c’mon don’t be like that sweetheart,” the term of endearment sounds like an insult falling from his lips and Azzi loses her patience, stomping her heel into the man’s foot to finally free herself from his grip and he yelps in surprise.

“I said no thank you.”

“What the fuck,” the man spits out, standing up as Azzi takes a step back. He’s got some muscle and although, despite his bravado, she knows she’s strong enough to take him, she’d rather not create a scene. Her plan is to walk away. Paige seems to have other ideas, suddenly materializing in between Azzi and the man, a furious look on her face as she squares him up.

“Do we have a problem?” the blonde asks menacingly.

“Nothing other than your little friend here being a fucking bitch.”

Paige’s eyes darken as she takes a threatening step towards him, prevented from going further only by the way Azzi immediately laces a hand around her wrist, “what the fuck did you call her?”

“I called her a-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Azzi cuts in, stepping in between a glaring Paige and a man who’s clearly underestimating her strength, “let it go Paige.”

“Yeah,” the man mocks, “let it go Paige.”

“You fucking-” Paige tries to lunge at him but Azzi’s quick to shove her back gently.

“Don’t cause a scene,” she warns.

“Azzi-”

“Paige please.”

“Holy shit,” the man wolf-whistles, “y’all play for the Valks. You’re Azzi Fudd. I know you.”

“Good for you,” Azzi spits out at him before turning her attention back to Paige, who looks like she could kill the man if given the chance, “c’mon let's go back to our tab-”

“It’s funny you’re acting like such a fucking prude when you have a bastard chi-”

An unmistakable crunch rings out through the bar as the man goes flying backwards. Azzi’s knuckles are bleeding as her breath comes out in ragged huffs. She hadn’t wanted to cause a scene; could have walked away from a man being a drunken idiot, could have walked away from being called a bitch or hell, even something worse. But the man had attacked the one part of her that she’d always be ready to go to war for. He’d brought up Stephie and she’d seen red. Her fist had moved of it's own accord.

Paige doesn’t say anything and Azzi can feel the anger still vibrating from the older woman’s body as she roughly grabs Azzi’s unhurt hand.

“Let’s go,” the blonde’s voice is eerily low, “we’re going home.”

***

It’s a subconscious choice to let Paige drive Azzi’s car even though they’ve both sobered up considerably, not that one shot had done much in the first place. It’s a subconscious choice that Azzi reaches over to lace her fingers through Paige’s free hand, resting it on her lap, as the blonde use her other hand to grip the steering wheel. It’s a subconscious choice that they end up driving to Azzi’s house in complete silence. She’s not sure who’s mad at who, if they’re even mad at each other or that man or just the world but she can feel the fury suffocating the air.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” Paige says gruffly as Azzi unlocks the door.

“Bathroom,” Azzi says quietly and Paige is off towards it before the word has even fully left the brunette’s mouth. Azzi scrambles after her, pausing in the doorway as Paige rummages through drawers, knowing better than to interrupt to help when Paige looks livid like this.

“Sit,” Paige points to the sink once she’s finally found the sanitizer and gauze to clean up dried up blood staining Azzi’s knuckles.

“I can do it my-”

Paige glares at her, “just sit on the fucking sink Azzi.”

Putting away her own irritation at being told what to do, Azzi lifts herself onto the flat surface of the sink, opening her legs slightly so that Paige can stand between them. Despite still quivering with barely concealed rage, Paige’s touch is gentle as she dabs at the remnants of red liquid on Azzi’s hand.

“You should’ve just let me punch him when I wanted to,” she says finally.

“So you could be the one bleeding?” Azzi raises an eyebrow.

“No because he would’ve never gotten the courage to say shit about Stephie if you’d just let me kill him when he called you a bitch,” Paige bites out venomously.

“And let you go to jail? I couldn’t do that to Stephie,” Azzi tries to lighten the tension in the room, “she’d miss you too much.

“This isn’t funny, Azzi,” Paige seethes as she begins to wrap the white gauze around the wound.

“I know,” the younger woman says, trailing her other hand down Paige’s arms trying to soothe her anger, “but it’s fine-”

“It’s not fucking fine,” Paige yells.

“Baby-” the word slips out from Azzi’s lips before she can catch it. She hasn’t used it for someone other than Stephie in so long that it feels foreign on her lips and yet, it fits exactly right.

“Did you call Clémence that too?” and there it is, the real reason behind the volcano erupting as Paige decidedly looks away from Azzi.

Azzi narrows her eyes, “I don’t know Paige. Did you call Olivia that?”

“That’s different,” Paige grits out, “Olivia was my wife.”

Azzi flinches at the word; hates that somebody else had ever had the honor of being called that even if she knows it’s unfair of her to feel that way when she’s the one that had turned it down first.

“Exactly,” she says slowly, “you married someone else-” she holds up a hand when Paige protests, “I know. I know I said no but you married someone else Paige. So you don’t get to be mad at me for having something with someone else too.”

Paige is quiet for a moment and Azzi sees the exact moment the fight leaves her body as she lets out a sigh, leaning her head against Azzi’s shoulder.

“You’re right,” Paige whispers into Azzi’s neck, hands moving to rest against the brunette’s thighs.

Azzi runs her hand through Paige’s hair, brushing it in tandem with the harmony of her breathing, “we can’t keep throwing the past in each other’s face, Paige.”

“I know,” Paige breath tickles against Azzi’s skin and she shivers in spite of the tense moment,“I just-” the blonde lifts her head to look at Azzi, “I need to know who Clémence was to you. You- you know what Olivia was to me and I- I just need to know the same about Clémence.”

“She-” Azzi hesitates, “we hooked up a couple of times,” she squeezes Paige’s hand when the blonde flinches, “but then she- she wanted more but I couldn’t- I couldn’t do that. Partly because I didn’t- I didn’t feel the same- don’t look so smug,” Azzi chides when a small grin forms on Paige’s face, “and partly because we were on the same team. I didn’t want to complicate things, not like last time. Feel like I should probably have a rule not to date teammates.”

“Right.”

Azzi watches the cogs turning in Paige’s brain and she reaches out a hand to ease the creases forming on her forehead, “what are you thinking Bueckers?”

“I just-” Paige bites her lip, “what about me?”

“What about you?”

“I mean we’re gonna be- I mean we are- we’re on the same team too,” Paige says and Azzi can hear the insecurity of will you leave me again weaved through her voice.

“You don’t get it yet do you,” Azzi whispers, reaching up to cup Paige’s face, “baby you are the exception to all of my rules.”

#pazzi #paige bueckers #azzi fudd #wcbb

371 notes · View notes

benedictscanvas · 2 years ago

Note

could you possibly do a benedict bridgerton friends to lovers fic with maybe some jealousy thrown in there? i adore your writing 🫶🏻

this request could not have come at a better time! i finally started my bridgerton rewatch recently and i can feel myself sparking with ideas yet again :) || 2k words, tw benedict is PINING & this is much more suggestive than my usual content, so 18+ please!

can't bear it - benedict bridgerton x reader

He looked bored. It was the first thing you noticed upon entering the ballroom and, in truth, it was often the first thing you noticed upon entering any ballroom. Over your years of friendship, it seemed you had a highly trained eye to seek him out amongst any crowd.

Just as your eyes strayed to him, as if he had similar training, his found you. What had been a dull stare at the ground to avoid any accidental eye contact with the Mamas scattered about the room quickly became a bright and excitable gaze locked to yours and you returned his slow-spreading smile with a rather unladylike grin.

"Hi," he mouthed, a grin of his own now twisting his features. You shook your head at him fondly, biting the inside of your cheek in a foolish attempt to stop your grin from growing any wider.

You were lucky to have a sister with whom your mother was preoccupied. It made it easy to hurry along the sides of the ballroom, exchanging nods with those you passed without stopping to greet them properly, to end up next to Benedict in record time.

You stood side by side, your usual routine, the backs of your hands inches apart but both facing outwards, as if surveying the rest of the room. Each one of your senses was entirely tuned into him as soon as you entered his presence, but it would not look as such to any onlookers.

"You'll start more rumours if you keep trying to communicate across such wide distances, Lord Bridgerton," you began, eyes fixed on the twirling couples so you didn't sneak a glance in his direction, "I thought we were attempting to rid ourselves of the clamours for our engagement."

"They can hardly read into a mere greeting," he responded easily, the words a mere murmur from the corner of his mouth, "I am a gentleman, as you know, and it would be impolite to simply ignore you."

"It would. You couldn't ignore me if you tried, anyway," you mused, "You'd get ever so bored."

"Always so self-important."

His mutter makes you bite back a smirk. Perhaps facing away from each other did nothing to hide your obvious conversation after all. Violet would be sure to notice, you knew, and may once again force Benedict into explaining the lack of proposal between the two of you.

In recent weeks, however, you had been struggling to explain it to yourself. Benedict was so dear to you, so utterly different to the men that regularly bored you, that once you had struck up such unlikely friendship, it seemed you valued it far too much to take it any further.

That, and there had never been any indication that Benedict himself saw marital potential within you. He was by no means a shy man. If he wanted you, you were quite sure he would have swept you off your feet by now.

And what a sweeping it would be, in those strong arms barely concealed by the crisp white shirt, billowing fabric...

"Good evening, Miss Y/L/N," a voice broke you from your spell, and your gaze accidentally drifted to Benedict in surprise before landing on the man interrupting you, "I believe I was promised a dance last we met, and I have heard you are a lady of your word."

You had to fight to keep yourself from frowning as you wracked your brains for his name. Unfortunately, you came up entirely empty and had no choice but to respond vaguely.

"I certainly would not like to gain a reputation for breaking promises," you smiled as taught, taking in handsome features and arms that didn't fill in a shirt nearly as well as Benedict's. You shook that thought from your head as you placed your hand in the unnamed stranger's own, "It would be an honour."

There was a splutter to your left, no doubt Benedict struggling to conceal his amusement at the sudden change in your tone. You allowed the man to lead you to the dance floor, turning subtly to send Benedict a wry smile but finding him staring right through you, expression anything but amused.

It wiped the smile clean off your own face.

His face was thunder throughout your dance, you noticed, however much you tried to focus on the pleasantly mundane conversation provided by your new partner. He really was quite good looking, if only you could appreciate it, but you were entirely preoccupied by Benedict's new foul mood and what could have caused it.

As the dance ended, you bowed politely to your captor, which was the only word that came to mind for him, and hurried in the direction of your favourite friend only to find him gone. This time you did frown, despite your mother's warnings of wrinkles, and picked up your skirt lightly as you slipped out of the ballroom.

Searching side room after side room proved useful. You soon found what could be described as a studio, with large windows to let the light in but currently only cast moonlight across the canvases spread around the room. The moon also lit up half of Benedict, who was stood at the window, staring out into the gardens.

"Be prepared to hide under that desk if anyone should come knocking," you said, startling him as you clicked the door shut behind you, "I shan't let you compromise my honour just because I have to chase after you when you're having a tantrum."

He glowered at you at the mention of a tantrum, the kind of look he usually levelled his brothers with rather than you. It was new territory and you found yourself quickly floundering.

"I did not bid you to follow me."

"And yet here I am," you reminded, taking a tentative step, "So why don't you put a stop to this strange mood and tell me what's wrong?"

"I'd rather not," he said curtly, his voice a little wrong as he turned to face you at last. Were those tears? "Please return to the festivities and I will join you momentarily."

You'd never seen Benedict cry before. In fact, you weren't sure you'd ever seen a man cry in your life, and the sight was terrifying. You wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a long overdue embrace, but you kept yourself stock still in the middle of the room.

"Benedict..." you began, not sure where you were going despite the plea in your voice, "Please. I have never seen you like this."

He laughs, but its harsh.

"You must not be very observant then, Y/N."

"I beg your pardon?"

"In fact, you must be positively blind. Maddeningly so. How do you ever get anything done?"

You could feel tears of your own welling up in your eyes and blinked them away furiously. It was a great effort to keep your voice level when you spoke.

"I have known you to be many things, Bridgerton, but you are not cruel. I am sure I have done nothing to deserve such vehement insult, so-"

"I quite disagree," he interrupted, face fierce as he stalked over to you until he was right in front of you. Your chest heaved as you looked up at him, eyes wide, and felt the rise of his chest almost against your own, "You are observant, Y/N, and far from blind. It is your cruelty at fault here, not mine. It is yours."

He hissed the last word, pointing a finger at you so close to your chest that your head was spinning. His closeness was intoxicating, his scent crowding you out of enough oxygen and his words were making you lightheaded with panic.

"You're not making any sense," you murmured. His fingertips ghosted across the fabric of your dress near your hips, barely there, and nowhere near the skin underneath.

"You must see it," he mutters back, all gritted teeth and barely concealed restraint, "You must see that I worship you. That I always have."

Your inhale sounded more like a gasp. He shook his head above you, moving closer until his chin was pressed hard into your temple and you keened into the touch.

"I know you do not feel the same. And you are not obligated to, I swear it. But taunting me as you do. Playing with me only to dance with another..." he trails off, breath shuddering, and you can hear those tears in his voice again, "I can't bear it. Please, Y/N, I cannot bear it."

Neither can you.

You reach up and take his face in both hands, finding chiseled cheekbones and jawline, thumbs either side of his lips as you pull him until you can look up into his face again. Your gaze flickers across his face, and you wipe the tears from his face with shaking fingers.

"You're blind, Benedict," you say, leaning up on your tiptoes until your lips brush his, soft, like the ghost of his fingertips against fabric. You know what you want him to do and you need him to do it first, need him to take your lead and run away with it.

When he fists his hands in your dress at your hips and drags you into him, your prayers are answered.

He opens your mouth to his, still gentle but insistent, demanding more, more, more of you. You'd give him everything, right here, mainly because you know he'd never take it. He seems more than content with the here and now as it is, especially when your hands slip into his hair and he lets out a low grumble of a moan that you feel everywhere.

He's trying to pull you closer still when you break for air, gasping it in as the two of you pant into each other's mouths. He runs a hand down your hair, your neck, your arm, until he intertwines his fingers with yours, chases your lips for a peck, then another, then another. You meet him with a lazy grin.

"I dance with the Lords of the ton every ball," you breathe out, "I'd have noticed if you reacted like this every time."

Benedict was grinning too. He looked far more like himself when he did.

"They are usually old, ugly fools," he said, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the thought, "I always hate them having their hands all over you, but watching a young charming bastard who may just have a chance with you hold you as I have always dreamed of doing? It was enough."

"He never had a chance, my Lord," you assured, tracing his hairline, his earlobe just to see him shiver, "You are, as already accused, blissfully blind. Blind as a bat, I should think."

"Recent developments would suggest that to be true," he mused, glowing in a way he wouldn't usually when wrong. Then, all too quickly, his face briefly fell, "I truly apologise for all that I said to you, Y/N. There is no excuse, it was cruel."

"Hm," you agreed, "It was. Although, I can think of a multitude of ways you can make it up to me. Would you care to hear them?"

His eyes lit up at the realisation of your teasing. It was familiar, exactly what had drawn you both to each other time and time again. It was likely what would keep you together for eternity.

"I would like nothing more."

"How about I sit right up here..." you began lowly, moving to take a seat on the desk, "-you sit yourself underneath this desk, and we can have a conversation about compromising my honour."

You grinned at him wolfishly. It looked almost as if his eyes rolled back into his head already, but it wasn't long until he was kneeling in front of you, hands on the hem of your dress.

"And what would you know about compromising your honour, Miss Y/L/N?"

You ran a hand through his hair and used it to roughly yank him forward, until his nose was pressed to the fabric of your dress, exactly where you wanted him. It was easy to see it now, as he stared up at you in total awe: the way he worshipped you.

"Let's find out, shall we?"

if you’d like to request something, please do so here! i’d love to hear from you, sunflower <3

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction

3K notes · View notes

its-not-that-weird-blog · 6 months ago

Text

On the wrong foot

Matt Rempe x Reader

Summary: Maybe starting off on the wrong foot wasn't as bad as everyone thought…

Warnings: A little angsty but nothing to bad, enemies to lovers.

A/N: Due to the lack of Matt Rempe´s fics, here you have one, hope you guys like it. Sorry for any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language :) Let me know what you thought about this little fic

2.8k words

Being an intern for the New York Rangers has its ups and downs. Some positive aspects are that you get to do what you like (having fun on social media and forcing the players to make TikToks) and having free access to all the games in the season. All of that makes you grateful for this amazing opportunity, but there is one thing that makes this job unbearable..

And that is Matt Rempe, a cocky, 6'7" rookie who acts like he has the entire world in the palm of his hand. His arrogance and overconfidence make every interaction with him a challenge. He struts around the locker room, flaunting his height and abilities, often disregarding the efforts of those around him. His constant need for attention and validation only adds to the frustration, making what could be an amazing experience a bit of a nightmare.

Y/N and Matt started off on the wrong foot, meeting under the worst possible circumstances. It was the worst day of Y/N´s entire life. She had woken up late, throwing off her entire morning routine, and had to rush out the door without even grabbing a quick breakfast. Her day only got worse as she hurried to catch the train, only to miss it by mere seconds. By the time Y/N finally made it to the rink, she was frazzled, starving, and running on empty. That’s when she ran into Matt Rempe for the first time. Their initial encounter was less than pleasant, setting the tone for our strained relationship from the very start.

“You know this is a private practice, right?” Matt asked the poor frazzled girl.

“Yes, I am very aware of that,” she answered, chuckling. “You must be Matt, right? The new rookie?” Y/N asked, looking up at the lanky, very tall boy standing in front of her.

“Yeah, I mean, hard for you not to know, I guess... And you are?” Matt trailed off.

Y/N was taken aback, mainly because the team directors always made sure to let the new guys know who worked in what, especially in the media and marketing department.

“Oh, umm… I’m Y/N, one of the media interns,” she replied with a tight-lipped smile.

Matt raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Media intern, huh? So, what do you do? Take pictures and post tweets?”

“Actually, I manage the team's social media accounts, coordinate player interviews, and create content for our marketing campaigns,” Y/N replied, trying to keep her voice steady despite her irritation. “It’s a lot of work and responsibility.”

“Right, sure,” Matt said dismissively. “Well, try not to get in the way.”

Y/N felt a surge of frustration but forced herself to stay calm. “I’ll do my best,” she said, her tone tinged with sarcasm. “And maybe you can try to remember who’s on your team next time.”

Matt smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

As he walked away, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a mixture of anger and determination. She knew she had to prove herself, not just to Matt, but to everyone. This internship was too important to let one arrogant rookie ruin it for her.

She brushed it off, but it still annoyed her the audacity of that boy.

°°°°°°°°°°°

A few weeks had passed since their first encounter and it has been a constant fight between Y/N and Matt, mainly because of Matt’s attitude towards her. December rolled around and the team´s marketing director told the staff that they needed to do a promotional photoshoot to use during summer break.

It was a chilly Tuesday morning, and the team was gathered for the photoshoot at an outdoor rink. The bright sunlight reflected off the ice, creating a beautiful backdrop for the shoot. Y/N had been working tirelessly to ensure everything was set up perfectly: the lighting, the props, and the shoot schedule.

Matt Rempe, on the other hand, seemed determined to test Y/N’s patience today. As the players gathered for their turn in front of the camera, Y/N called Matt over for his individual shots.

“Alright, Matt, let’s get started,” Y/N said, holding up a clipboard and checking the list. “We need you to do a few action poses first, then we’ll get some close-ups.”

Matt strolled over with a cocky and sarcastic grin. “Sure thing, but can I ask, why do we have to do this out in the freezing cold? Couldn’t you find a warmer spot?” Making his grin disappear and tuning his face into an annoyed frown

Y/N kept her professional demeanor. “It’s about the look we’re going for. The outdoor rink adds a unique touch to the photos. Plus, it’s only for a short while.”

Matt sighed heavily but positioned himself on the ice. As Y/N instructed him to perform a few drills and poses, Matt’s resistance became evident. He was slow to follow instructions, often taking a few extra seconds to reposition himself, and his expressions were lackluster at best.

Y/N tried to stay patient as she gave him clear directions. “Matt, please try to focus on the details of the poses. We need these shots to look sharp and engaging.”

Matt responded with a distracted nod but continued to make minimal effort. When Y/N asked him to adjust his stance, he grumbled, “I’m doing my best here, but this isn’t exactly my favorite way to spend an afternoon.”

Y/N took a deep breath, keeping her frustration in check. “Matt, I understand it’s not the most exciting part of the job, but it’s important for the team’s image. We need to get this right.”

Matt didn’t seem to take her seriously. He continued to make things difficult for everyone, giving half-hearted poses, shooting dirty looks at the camera, and maintaining his scowl. The photographer was visibly annoyed, and Y/N could feel the tension rising.

“Matt, if you can’t cooperate, we’re going to have to reschedule,” Y/N said, her voice firm.

Matt stopped his antics and looked at Y/N, realizing she was serious. “Alright, alright. I’ll play along. But can we make this quick? I’m freezing out here.”

With a reluctant nod, Y/N directed Matt through the remaining poses, this time with a bit more cooperation. Though his attitude was far from perfect, he made an effort to follow directions and get the shots done. Y/N was relieved to finish the session and hoped that Matt’s cooperation would improve with time.

Matt’s POV:

A few days after my awkward encounter with Y/N at the photoshoot, I was at the rink, trying to shake off the frustration of another rough practice. As I was heading to the locker room, Trouba stopped me in the hallway, looking a bit more serious than usual.

“Dude, you should leave poor Y/N alone,” he said, shaking his head. “You’re driving her crazy, and not in the right way.”

I raised an eyebrow, confused. “What are you talking about? I haven’t done anything that bad.”

“Really?” Jacob replied, his tone indicating he was unimpressed. “I’ve seen you giving her a hard time. She’s not just some intern; she’s part of the team’s media and marketing department. You’re making it difficult for her to do her job.”

I shrugged, trying to downplay it. “I didn’t realize it was such a big deal. I thought I was just being straightforward.”

“It’s not about being straightforward,” Jacob explained. “It’s about showing some respect. She’s working hard behind the scenes, and she’s under enough pressure already. You don’t want to be the guy who makes things worse for her.”

I sighed, realizing he had a point. I hadn’t thought about how my behavior might be affecting Y/N. “Alright, I get it. I’ll try to be more considerate.”

Trouba nodded, seeming satisfied. “Good. Trust me, it’ll make things easier in the long run.” He started walking back toward the locker room but stopped and turned around to face me again. “And if you have a crush on her, that second-grade bullshit needs to stop.” He winked at me before finally leaving.

As Trouba walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to make things right with Y/N. It was clear that my attitude needed to change, and I had to start finding a way to work with her, not against her.

And maybe Jacob’s right; I might have a little—just the tiniest—crush on Y/N. She’s a gorgeous, smart, and driven girl, and because of my little game, she probably won’t give me the time of day. But first things first, I need to turn around the relationship we currently have, or rather, the lack thereof.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°

The next day, Matt found himself lingering outside the media office, trying to figure out how to approach Y/N. Apologizing wasn't something he was used to, especially when he wasn’t sure how she’d react. But he knew he had to start somewhere.

Y/N was at her desk, headphones on, focused on editing a video from the previous game. She hadn’t noticed Matt standing in the doorway until he cleared his throat, causing her to look up in surprise.

“Oh, hey,” Y/N said, pulling off her headphones and sitting up straighter. “What’s up?”

Matt rubbed the back of his neck, feeling a bit awkward. “Hey, I just wanted to talk to you about the other day. You know, at the photoshoot.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly curious where this was going. “Okay…”

“I realize I’ve been a bit of a jerk,” Matt admitted, his voice slightly strained. “I didn’t mean to make things harder for you, and I’m sorry for being difficult.”

Y/N blinked, taken aback by his sudden apology. It was the last thing she expected from him. “Well, that’s… unexpected,” she said, not quite sure how to respond. “But I appreciate it.”

Matt nodded, feeling a small weight lift off his shoulders. “I know I’ve been giving you a hard time, but I want to make it up to you. Maybe we can start over?”

Y/N studied him for a moment, searching for any signs of insincerity. To her surprise, Matt seemed genuinely contrite. “Alright,” she said finally, offering a small smile. “I’m willing to give it a shot.”

Relief washed over Matt, and he smiled back. “Great. Maybe I can help out with some of the social media stuff, or anything else you need?”

Y/N chuckled, the idea of Matt willingly helping with TikToks and Instagram posts was amusing. “We’ll see about that,” she said teasingly. “But I’ll definitely let you know if there’s anything you can do.”

Matt grinned, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction. “Deal.”

As he left the office, Matt couldn’t help but feel a bit more relieved. Maybe he’d been too quick to judge Y/N, and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance to turn things around.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°°|

Over the next few weeks, Matt made a conscious effort to be more cooperative and approachable, especially when it came to Y/N’s work. It wasn’t always easy—old habits die hard—but he was determined to keep his word. Slowly but surely, the tension between them started to ease.

Y/N, for her part, noticed the change in Matt’s behavior. He was still cocky and sarcastic, but there was a noticeable shift in his attitude. He wasn’t as dismissive or difficult as before, and he even started to show some interest in the work she was doing. It was a refreshing change, and it made her job a little less stressful.

One day, as they were wrapping up a content planning meeting, Y/N decided to take a chance. “You know, Matt, we’re shooting a new series of TikToks next week,” she said casually. “We could use a player who’s good on camera… Interested?”

Matt smirked, recognizing the playful challenge in her voice. “Oh, so now you need my help?”

Y/N rolled her eyes but smiled. “Only if you’re up for it.”

Matt pretended to think it over, then nodded. “Alright, I’m in. But only if you promise to make me look good.”

Y/N laughed. “Deal. But you’ll have to take direction without any complaints this time.”

“Fine,” Matt agreed, holding out his hand. “Shake on it?”

Y/N shook his hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment. It was a small victory, but it felt like a step in the right direction. Maybe, just maybe, this internship wouldn’t be so unbearable after all.

And as for Matt? Well, he found himself looking forward to working with Y/N a lot more than he’d expected.

°°°°°°°°°°°°°

As the weeks passed, the collaboration between Y/N and Matt grew smoother, and so did their relationship. They began to banter more playfully, their exchanges losing the tension they once had. Y/N started to see a different side of Matt, the side that wasn’t all arrogance and bravado, but someone who was actually fun to be around.

Matt, too, couldn’t help but notice how much he enjoyed spending time with Y/N. Her sharpness, her determination, and the way she handled everything with grace under pressure all intrigued him. The more he got to know her, the more he found himself wanting to be around her.

One evening, after a long day of content creation and practice, Y/N was finishing up some last-minute edits in the media room. The office was quiet, with most of the staff having gone home. She was so engrossed in her work that she didn’t notice Matt walk in.

“Hey,” Matt’s voice broke the silence, startling Y/N slightly.

“Oh, fuck!” Y/N yelped, “ Matt, you scared me!” she exclaimed, laughing as she turned to face him. “What are you doing here so late?”

Matt leaned against the doorframe, a small smile playing on his lips. “I was just wondering if you wanted to grab a bite to eat. It’s been a long day, and I figured you could use a break.”

Y/N blinked in surprise. This was the first time Matt had ever suggested something like this. “Are you asking me out on a dinner date?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Matt chuckled, his expression softening. “Yeah, I guess I am. What do you say?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, then smiled warmly. “Sure, I’d like that.”

They ended up at a cozy little diner not too far from the arena, the kind of place that felt welcoming and unpretentious. As they settled into a booth, the conversation flowed easily. They talked about everything, from their families and childhood memories to their hopes and dreams for the future.

For the first time, Y/N saw the genuine person behind the cocky exterior. Matt was funny, thoughtful, and surprisingly down-to-earth. The more they talked, the more she found herself drawn to him.

And Matt? He couldn’t stop thinking about how beautiful Y/N looked when she laughed, or how her eyes lit up when she talked about something she was passionate about. He realized that this wasn’t just a crush anymore, he was falling for her, and hard.

As they walked out of the diner, the night air cool and crisp, Matt felt a wave of nervous anticipation. He knew he didn’t want this night to end just yet.

“Y/N,” Matt began, stopping in front of her. “I know we didn’t exactly start off on the right foot, but… I really like you. And I want to see where this could go.”

Y/N looked up at him, her heart skipping a beat. She could see the sincerity in his eyes, and it made her heart swell. “Matt, I like you too,” she admitted, a soft smile spreading across her face. “I wasn’t sure at first, but… you’ve shown me that there’s more to you than I thought.”

Matt took a step closer, his hand reaching out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “So… what now?” he asked, his voice low and hopeful.

Y/N’s smile widened as she closed the distance between them. “Now,” she said softly, “we see where this goes.”

With that, Matt leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a tender, sweet kiss. It was soft at first, almost hesitant, as if both of them were testing the waters. But as Y/N responded, the kiss deepened, filled with a warmth and affection that had been building between them for weeks.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless, but smiling. Matt rested his forehead against hers, his arms wrapped around her waist.

“I’m really glad you didn’t let me mess this up,” Matt whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, her eyes shining with happiness. “I think we make a pretty good team, don’t you?”

Matt grinned, leaning in to kiss her again. “Yeah, we really do.”

As they stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms under the soft glow of the streetlights, it was clear that this was the beginning of something special—something neither of them had expected, but both of them were more than ready to embrace.

#matt rempe #matt rempe imagine #matt rempe x reader #matt rempe x y/n #matt rempe fic #ny rangers #nhl imagine

199 notes · View notes

justwonder113 · 1 year ago

Text

Showering Hyunjin with affection

Bang Chan; Lee Know; Changbin; Han; Felix; Seungmin; IN;

Summary: you just had to show your drama queen of a boyfriend how much you love him. word count:2.5k

Warning: lot's of kissing, reader is gender neutral, both of them are whipped, appearance of 3racha, predebut Han almost making an entrance, Hyunjin is drunk and a drama queen, overall soft stuff. Please tell me if I missed something

A/N- I'm back with another fic, this took me a while but I'm kinda really satisfied with it, I really hope you all like it. I will try to write the next part as soon as I can. I wanna finish these series as soon as I can, first of all because I'm all excited and can't wait, also I'm excited to try out new tropes, I was thinking of challenging one bed trope after this, with various different dynamics. The requests are open, if you want me to write something I'll gladly accept the challenge. Also feel free to share your thoughts with me, I absolutely adore interacting with y'all. If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

After sighing for the nth time you finally forced yourself to turn off the shitty netflix show you were watching to spend time. You had nothing to do and were bored out of your mind, but not to that context to sit through another minute of this. It was almost 3 am and any normal person would be asleep by now, but here you were wide awake, feeling nothing remotely close to sleepiness.

You sat up straight after laying for couple of hours and boy you regretted it. The dizzy spell you got was nothing to joke with, maybe you should check your iron levels. Also your poor muscles felt so sore you would surely feel all stiff tomorrow. Your back was killing you, and, not to be dramatic but, you would marry anyone on the spot if they managed to massage the knots out. It was safe to say, you desperately needed some good spa day.

Speaking of marriage and partners, you were curious on how Hyunjin was doing. Even a mere thought of your amazing boyfriend bought a smile to your face. You couldn't believe you two were actually dating after pining over him for so many years. You sure were lucky tho, to have a sweetheart like him as your boyfriend. Your one year annivercary was coming soon and you couldn't surprise wait to surprise him. You've been planning everything for weeks now and you made sure everything would be perfect. Well you had to share some of your plans with him, so that you could plan your day together but you still had major card up your sleeve and you were sure he would lose his mind when you showed it to him. Two days, you only had to wait for two days.

You couldn't help but sigh, you missed him so much. Even though you saw him two days ago it felt like centuries had passed. This boy made you feel so many so foreign emotions you were never sure you would get to or actually could experience. He always went above and beyond to make you feel like the most special and cherished person, and the fact that he also did so even before you two started dating each other. He was always so sweet and gentle with you. You always felt like a hero of a romance novel. Also you adored how being with him was so fun and exciting but at the same time bought peace to your heart and mind. You might be rushing into things but day by day, second by second you were convinced he was your soulmate, your other half.

A sudden buzzing of your phone startled you out of your daydream, you were curious who in their right mind was calling you at this hour.

Seeing the contact name had you even more confused. Why would Chan be calling you at 3 am? You knew the boys were out having fun night for themselves. Did something happen? You hoped he called you for other reasons, because it would really suck if their rare chance of having fun got ruined by something unplanned. You sure hoped everything was okay tho. Quickly as you could you grabbed your phone and answered it mentaly preparing yourself to hear anything Chan had to say.

Chan's call of your name bought you down to reality from another spiral of unnescesary thoughts.

"Hey Chan what's up?" You tried to sound as calm as you could.

Chan cleared his throat, "I'm sorry, did I wake you up?" You quickly denied it," no I'm awake, what's up? Is everything okay?"

Chan chuckled and it made you relax a little, so nothing bad had happened, "yeah, yeah everything's fine , nothing to worry about, it's just your boyfriend is getting a bit fussy." You couldn't help but mirror the last word, you heard Chan chuckle. "Yeah alcohol must've got to him. We were about to go home, but he refuses to cooperate. He says he wants to go at yours because he as he quotes "misses his baby so much he can't take it anymore!" He dragged the words mimicking your boyfriend, you couldn't help but chuckle.

"Where are you guys, I can come pick him up." You suggested while searching for your keys with your eyes.

"No, no it's okay, we can bring him at yours. Binnie and Han are with me too so I don't think it will be much trouble. I just couldn't knock some sense into him, I told him to call you but he said his phone died. At some point he even ran towards your house or that's what he thought I had to tackle him before he could get lost. I don't think he can tell left from right in this state" He paused for a second, you heard someone talking but you couldn't hear anything, " I'm getting off track sorry, so it's good to bring him at yours?" You were full on chuckling now, what a silly little man.

"Yeah, it's totally fine. I'm sorry he's being trouble."

"No it's fine, it's kinda endearing to see him this whipped. All he talked about was you and how amazing you are." Your cheeks hurt from smiling this wide, God, you loved that idiot. "Okay I won't bore you anymore, we'll be at yours soon."

"Okay I'm waiting."

After finishing the call you made sure you looked decent enough for your taste and that your apartment looked neat. You also prepared clothes for Hyunjin to change into from his drawer and some water and painkillers for tomorrow.

It didn't even take 20 minutes for the boys to arrive. The second you opened your door Hyunjin tackled you into a hug, almost knocking you over, thankfully Changbin and Chan caught you two before you could manage and break your necks. You giggled at your boyfriends eagerness, before frowning when you saw how swollen and red his eyes were. "What happened baby?" You cooed at him and moved his hair out of his face. Hyunjin sighed and hugged you again, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. You heard collective sigh of boys and turned your attention to them, looking at them with confused eyes, hoping they would tell you what was up.

Han decided to break the silence-"don't worry he was just bawling his eyes the whole ride, crying how amazing and perfect you were and how there is no one like you." He said and rolled his eyes, you huffed out a laugh, you knew he had nothing against you, but he must have had enough of this. Hyunjin frowned and glanced at him, his hold on you tightened, you were not sure if he felt possesive or just couldn't keep himself straight. "You're just bitter cuz you're single!" Hearing your boyfriends grumble Han's eyes widened and for a second you were afraid predebut Han would return. "Oh I'm gonna beat his ass!" Han leaned in but Changbin held him back by his collar, Changbins gaze then turned to you and you noticed how tired he seemed. "Good luck, he's your headache now."

Chan looked at you" Do you need any help with anything?" You smiled at him and shook your head. "I can handle him. Do you guys wanna come in tho? Do you want something to drink?" After hearing the last word you could see all three of them shiver.

"We're fine. It's late too we better head home." Chan reassured you after glancing at Changbin and Han for their opinion.

"Okay, thanks again for bringin him. Tell me when you're home, it's really late."

You said your goodbyes and turned to hyunjin who looked at you with dazed, sparkling eyes. "Let's get you settled pretty boy." You took his hand and started leading him towards your bedroom. Hyunjin eagerly followed you, you were amazed how pliant he was being, usually he loved being a brat but he must have been too tired now to act so.

After helping Hyunjin get ready for bed, you quickly got changed too and got in bed next to him. turning to him you noticed that he looked at you with wide eyes, nowhere near sleepy now. You leaned in and removed hair from his forehead, "I thought you were sleepy baby." Hyunjin looked at you for a second or two and opened his arms, "wanna cuddle." His words were slurred but you still got what he meant, you smiled and immediately snuggled next to him his arms finding solace around you. Based on how content he looked, if he could he would start purring any second now. How was he so cute and lovable? You knew you were whipped for him but you could swear he looked extra yummy right now.

You spent couple of minutes like this, and based on his even breathing you were sure he was asleep now, but you were proved wrong when he huffed while glaring at you and then changed sides so that you were now facing his back. To be honest you were a bit dumbfounded.

"What's wrong sweetie?" You couldn't help but pry, you had no idea what could've brought this behavior from him. Hyunjin just huffed. You sighed for yourself, you had got to use the big guns. You leaned in closer, amused at how he tried to get away from your touch, as if he had much space to run off to, and soon, not really to your surprise you had him trapped in the corner of your bed. You wrapped your hand around his stiff body and leaned in closer so that you could sweetly whisper against his ear. " Please tell me what's wrong my love" you dragged his nickname as sweetly as you could knowing it made him weak in the knees, and it did break through him. Hyunjin sighed and laid on his back, you glued next to him, his lips were pouted and his eyes a little bit glossy, you rubbed his side to ease him into talking .

"You don't love me" he whined quietly, you expected to hear anything but this from him if you were honest. You blinked at him confused, trying to gather your thoughts, you were both perplexed and also hollering from laughter inside. He was so ridiculous sometimes. You took a deep breath and moved your fingers to play with his soft locks, Hyunjin immediately leaned into the touch.

"My love, I love you so much I don't think you can even comprehend it! What brought this up?" Your voice was soft, you wanted him to know how sincere you were. Hyunjin sighed and put his hand on your waist, successfully bringing you closer to him, your fingers migrated and now were gently scratching his nape. Hyunjin hid his face in the crook of your neck and quietly grumbled "you didn't kiss me even once since I got here, we haven't seen each other in a while tho." No matter how hard you tried you couldn't hold it in and started cackling, this adorable as hell drama Queen! He had you worried for nothing! You even thought for a second you did something wrong.

Noticing your shaking figure, Hyunjin looked up at you with doe eyes, and his pout deepened when he saw you that you were wholeheartedly laughing. "Stop laughing I'm talking from my heart here!" His comment made you laugh even harder. "I should've gone home, you hates me" noticing how sad he sounded you got reminded that he was drunk as hell and was feeling more fragile, you wondered tho if he would remember any of this in the morning? Was it too late to grab a camera? Pouty Hyunjin was adorable.

"I'm sorry my love, you know I love you the most." Hyunjin rolled his eyes, and you knew he was playing with you, his eyes glimmered with mischief, well, two could play this game. You lowered your voice so you sounded almost sultry "Why don't you let me prove my sincerity to you then? Are you gonna let me?" You carefully watched as Hyunjin's eyes widened for a second, the big gulp and careful nod of his head.

This was all the permission you needed, you leaned in and carefully sealed your lips together, your boyfriend basically melted against you. You just loved how soft and pillowy his lips were, you always felt like you could kiss him for eternity.

The kiss started out soft, with you gently caressing his lips, his hand firm on your waist, holding you as if you were going to go away. Everything went quiet, you could only see, smell, taste, feel, hear him and so much more, he was the center of your universe. It was just you two right now, you didn't care about anything else. You had one goal only and you were dedicated. Everything about him was driving you crazy, you were sure he couldn't even grasp what, or how much you were feeling.

Your kisses quickly deepened and apart from gasping for air from time to time you two were inseparable, like two magnets pulling on each other.

The second Hyunjin leaned back for a second for some air, you decided to continue your little attack on his jaw, then his cheeks, absolutely loving the feel of his soft skin on your lips, then came his forehead, his eyelids, his beautiful nose, his chin, his neck... You wanted to cover every inch of him in kisses, to show appreciation to whichever god or gods crafted him, to show appreciation that this walking perfection was yours, his soft sighs and whines making you go even crazier.

You littered every part of skin you could reach with kisses until your lips were so numb and buzzing you got afraid they would fall off. Although, it didn't sound that bad, knowing the last thing they did was to kiss the Hwang Hyunjin senseless.

Looking at him, he looked at you with so much love and adoration, his face and neck all flushed, his breathing was quick and shallow,his hair all disheveled, his beautiful hands held you so tightly, your heart started fluttering all over again. He looked absolutely breathtaking, you wished you could engrave this moment into your mind for eternity. You smiled at him and softly grazed his cheek. "Are you satisfied with my answer my precious?" Your voice was soft, Hyunjin gleamed at you and eagerly nodded his head, and the next thing you knew you were on your back on the bed, Hyunjin above you, hugging you as tight as he could, his lips softly kissing your collarbone. "Absolutely, I love you so much beautiful, you have no idea" he pressed another kiss on your neck and then your lips with so much love and passion you just knew your feelings were returned with the same passion and vigor.

Reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated ^^

If you like my work you can buy me coffee🩷

775 notes · View notes

girliism · 5 months ago

Text

a continuation of this

you and patrick orbited around each other that following week. you refused to speak to him. you felt humiliated, having to see her, interact with her, and with your new found realization you wondered how had you not seen it before? the less than platonic touches that lingered too long, how patrick seemed to hang onto her every word. the tension between the two of you was suffocating and impossible to ignore. “practice might run late tonight.” your friend eyed the both you. “ok.” you answered dryly. patrick placed a hesitant and awkward kiss on your head before leaving. your friend cleared her throat. “so, what’s going on with you two.” you looked at her. “what do you mean.” you knew what she meant. “nothing just you guys seem weird.” she shrugged. but you couldn’t avoid him forever, i mean you guys lived in the same house. “couldn’t sleep?” you were standing at the counter when patrick walked into the kitchen. you shook your head. “never realized how big our bed is.” patrick has sleeping in the guest bed. the tall brunette came to stand next to you. “don’t you think we should talk.” you sighed and looked up at him. “i’m tired, patrick.” you grabbed the tea you were brewing, going to make your way back upstairs before his voice stopped you. “are you gonna leave me?” his question rattled around in your head. would you? over something he said ment nothing. except sex always ment something.

“that depends entirely on you.” you mumble. “what?” turn to face him. “i see the you look at her patrick.” he huffed. “and don’t tell me it doesn’t mean anything because it does.” patrick ran his hand through his hair. “when can we let this go? it was mistake that i am forever sorry about, but you can’t keep punishing me.” he defended himself. you let out a breathy laugh. “you went out of your way to have sex with her patrick, that doesn’t sound like a “mistake” to me.” patrick rubbed his hands over his face, throwing his head back. “well it was.” his words muffled by his hands over his face. why couldn’t you just believe him. “are you in love with her?” patrick just looked at you. was he? or was this merely a crush, some sort of fleeting infatuation for his past lover. “you are my wife.” you closed your eyes ignoring how he ignored the question. “am i? because it’s like i have to beg for your attention, while she could call you and you’re out the door.” you said, tears building up, patrick walked up to you placing his hands on your shoulders. “i wanna make this work, i wanna put this behind us. please.”

so you guys made it work. patrick gave himself boundaries when it came to tashi, no more late night practices or business dinners alone. he spent more time with you, taking you on dates more which felt awkward at first having to start over. there was even a redo on family pizza night which the kids loved, though it brought back bittersweet memories for you. “dad, look i made a tennis ball pizza.” your son laughed. with patrick’s final season starting soon he was gonna be on the road, alone, with tashi. “patrick?” you whispered. it was the middle of the night but you couldn’t sleep, you kept rolling around your wedding ring, the piece of jewelry that once felt like a second skin now sometimes felt heavy. “hm.” he hummed. “will i be able to trust you on tour?” patrick rolled to lie on his back, placing his hand in yours. “of course.” you let out a deep sigh, squeezing lightly at his hand

patrick ended winning the us opening he had previously lost, announcing his retirement from tennis thanking both you and tashi for getting him here.

( i think reader staying with patrick and them working it out was the more realistic approach.)

#girliism #challengers #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig angst

127 notes · View notes

frankenstein-ate-my-left-shoe · 2 months ago

Text

@steddiemas week 2 - Lights, Mistletoe, Tradition, Red

rating: T | words: 1,649

wooo right in before the deadline lmao

<- back to previous part | next part ->

Steve knocks on the Munsons’ door at 10 the next morning. It’s only after he does, however, that he thinks that maybe Eddie won’t even be up yet, that he won’t be up for a couple more hours at least, despite what he said after dinner the night before;

“Gotta be up bright and early, Stevie dear, Wayne’s taking a double and someone’s gotta put up the tree.”

“You’re decorating already?”

“Sure am! It’s tradition to put the tree up the day after thanksgiving. Wanna come over and help?”

But, to his surprise, Eddie opens the door mere seconds after he’d knocked, the sounds of the local radio station’s Christmas music selections spilling out the door behind him.

“Finally,” he says, leaving the door open and turning to march back to an already open green tote in front of the couch.

“Sorry man, I honestly didn’t think you’d be up.” he laughs, following Eddie into the trailer. He kicks the snow off his boots in the doorway, toes them off, and closes the door behind him.

Looking around, Steve notices the already somewhat cramped space is more cramped now with the addition of a large cardboard box, a surprising number of rolls of wrapping paper in different stages of use, a pile of lights, and two plastic tubs, a green and a red, all spread out across the floor.

“What is all this stuff?”

“Our Christmas shit, duh.” Eddie says, bent in half over the tote and digging around at the bottom.

Steve takes the shortest moment to admire the view (A guy can have a crush on his relatively new, much-cooler-than-him friend if he wants to, alright?), then says, “Yeah Ed, I got that part, I mean, what is it all? What’s in the totes?” then walks over to the red tote and lifts off the lid.

A mess of ornaments awaits him under it; all of them loose, gold, green, red, and glittering.

“That one’s ornaments, this one’s garland, I think the tinsel’s in here too…?” more digging sounds.

“Why are they all just… loose?” Steve asks, picking up a green teardrop ornament. He’s used to his mother’s rigid everything has its place style of packing away the decorations every year, each fragile glass bauble having its own box or assigned spot in a big plastic tray… not like she’d been around to do the setup or take down the last couple years, but old habits die hard.

“Well it’s not like they’re gonna break, they’re all plastic.”

Steve scoffs a short laugh, shaking his head, “Alright, Munson, where do you wanna start?”

They start, of course, with the big cardboard box that holds the Munsons’ tree.

“You have an aluminum tree?” Steve asks with barely-hidden awe as he reads the red and green Evergleam Stainless Aluminum Christmas Tree on the side of the box. He’d always thought they were pretty, but his mom refused to have one in her home, said they were tacky (not to mention not nearly tall enough).

Eddie sighs, “Yeah, not what I woulda picked but,” he shrugs, pulling what looks like the stem of the tree out of the box, “Beggars and choosers and all that.”

“I think they’re great.” Steve says, taking the pole from Eddie.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I dunno, they’re so… shiny. So Christmas-y, y’know?”

Eddie gives him a look, but smiles, “Sure, I can see that.”

The two get to work, snapping the base and column of the tree together, then placing each of the branches into the holes dotted up and down the stem.

Eddie starts to pull the paper sleeves off the branches as he goes, and Steve finds himself entranced by finagling the spindly aluminum strips to look more tree-like.

He doesn’t know how long he spends wearing circles into Wayne’s carpet, but soon, Eddie comes to his side and asks, “Ready for the lights, Stevie?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, yeah, sorry man.” he says, stepping back from the tree only to reach back out and fix the needles he brushed up against getting out of the way.

Eddie smiles, then drops to his hands and knees to crawl along the side of the couch to plug in the lights Steve now sees have been laid up and down the length of the living room and kitchen.

“You guys don’t have that spinny light thing?” He asks Eddie’s ass, then immediately regrets it. ‘Beggars and choosers and all that’. “I mean, uh..”

The warm white lights flicker on as Eddie shouts “Gotcha!” and shuffles backward, sitting up on his knees when finally free of the branches. Somehow, there’s tinsel in his hair now. Where’d that even come from??

“We do, actually, but it’s always been finicky. Pros of a ‘non-flammable’ tree means we don’t try to make things more flammable with untrustworthy motorized light doohickies, right?”

Steve blinks at him. “Did you just say ‘doohickies’?”

Eddie grins, “If I’m gonna quote Wayne, I’m gonna do it correctly.”

“Fair.” He laughs, holding out a hand for Eddie to take. Grabbing tight, Eddie heaves himself up off the floor.

“Alright big boy, you get to stringing those ones,” He says, pointing to the white lights, “While I untangle the other ones.” He picks up the other mess of lights triumphantly, a big grin still on his face.

It’s only then, when Eddie lets him go to pull at the lights, that Steve realizes he’d still been holding Eddie’s hand.

Steve gets the lights strung up around the little tree, and is rewarded with another good long look at Eddie’s backside while he plugs in the now untangled multicolored lights.

These ones are more familiar to him, “Hey, my grandma has these!” Steve says cheerily, examining the plastic petals around each light.

“Must be a grandma speciality, then.”

“Oh yeah? You a grandma, Ed?” Steve asks, carefully winding the lighted flowers back and forth across the tree.

Eddie snorts, “All this stuff was my grandma’s. Wayne got it when she died.”

Steve feels his face fall. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

He glances up to see Eddie shrug, “She was before my time, but thanks.”

Eddie lets Steve work while he starts to dig through the totes; he’s got half the tote of greenery spilled out onto the floor by the time Steve goes to the other and starts to pick out ornaments.

He figured with a shiny silver tree like this that the gold ones wouldn’t look quite right, but the combination of color from the lights somehow makes it so only the gold would look right.

He’s pulling out the different shaped gold baubles when Eddie finds something.

“Ooh mistletoe~, how ‘bout it Stevie, you gonna lay one on me?” he croons, sidling up to Steve with one arm stretched above them.

“Shut up man,” Steve laughs, pushing him away on instinct alone and going back to the tote of ornaments.

Immediately, Steve can hear Robin’s voice in his head; “No! What are you doing?? You could’ve had your first boy kiss before my first girl kiss and you said NO? To EDDIE??”

Unaware of his turmoil, Eddie cackles good-naturedly as Steve’s heart thumps achingly in his chest.

He can’t help but imagine it, what it would’ve been like to take Eddie up on the offer, to just grab him up and plant one on him like he’s been wanting to for what, a good eight months now?

He’d kiss him, he’d blush all pretty, Steve’d say something corny and flirty and endearing, and Eddie would grin that big stupid grin at him and—

“Steve!”

Spell broken, Steve looks around at Eddie, standing over the faded tote with the scraggly-looking sprig of greenery still hanging from one of his fingers.. “What?”

Eddie shakes his head almost disbelievingly, “Whatta you mean ‘What?’? You’re the one zoning out in the middle of my living room, man.” He laughs, but it and his eyes are strained.

“Oh sorry, yeah. Just zoned out, promise.”

That seems to loosen Eddie up, “Okay, good.” He sighs, drops the mistletoe onto a cushion of the couch, and dives back in for two armfuls of garland.

Steve hangs ornaments on the tree while Eddie does his best to scare the shit out of him at every moment; he climbs up and all over the counters, the couch, Wayne’s recliner, all just to hang the garland around the cabinets and along the front of the shelves packed with mugs.

Eventually, they’re done.

The tree is lit, the garland is pinned in place where it won’t send any mugs careening down onto the couch below, every inch of the Munsons’ space is decked out and the unused decorations are being packed away into their totes.

“Last chance, big boy,” Eddie says, wiggling the fake plastic plant and his eyebrows at Steve.

He barks a short laugh and shakes his head fondly, and Eddie goes back to packing away the rest of the garland that was wrapped up in his other hand.

For a split moment, as he snaps the lid back onto his own tote, Steve wonders over his options, but knows he’ll regret it if he doesn’t seize the moment.

He turns away from the red tote of ornaments, takes the three short steps to Eddie’s side, and plucks the mistletoe from Eddie’s hand.

Eddie, who turned automatically when he did, flushes beet red as Steve raises his hand and the little fake sprig of greenery above both their heads

Steve leans forward, and presses his lips to the warm apple of Eddie’s cheek.

He pulls back, and Eddie’s face is somehow redder. “Happy now, Munson?”

He’d meant for it to come out jokingly, willing to play it off if Eddie pushes back, but his voice comes out warm and low instead, with genuine curiosity colored through it.

Eddie gulps audibly, then breathes out a soft laugh, “Peachy.”

dividers from @steddiecameraroll-graphics!

#steddiemas 2024 #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve harrington x eddie munson #eddie munson x steve harrington #noelle writes

112 notes · View notes

thyras · 2 months ago

Text

→ of the moon & stars

PAIRING → mairon | sauron x female!elf!reader

WORD COUNT → 7.6k words

SERIES → of sauron & the moriquendi

WARNINGS → 18+ mdni - smut (nothing too explicit but just airing on the side of caution), weddings, sauron gets a slight redemption arc (though it will be very short lived)

SUMMARY → you and mairon finally complete your weaving and share in the most sacred ceremonies with your people. unknowing of the darkness that now stirs.

AUTHORS NOTE → okay so i wanna premise that sauron gets a sweet taste of redemption for a moment, like mans sees the light but it is only with reader. like he still has darkness in him and his true nature is there, but melkor will come for him he is not just going to let sauron cower away from him. also I am trying to stick close to canon as possible, these parts are set before the silmarils are crafted and melkor is just rising after his chaining. i have most of this story already written so I'm going to edit it and keep posting it every day (crossing fingers as my masters classes start up again next week)

PARTS → masterlist

Word spread quickly through the city, the tale of your betrothal entwined with whispers of Calandil’s fiery outburst. It seemed to ripple like a stone cast into a still pond, reaching every corner of the streets and markets. Soon, figures began to arrive at the forge, hesitant yet eager, bearing words of apology on their lips. Their expressions were a curious mix of awe and unease, their glances darting between Mairon and the gleaming works that adorned his walls.

The forge itself seemed to glow brighter under their reverent gazes, for Mairon was no mere smith to these people. He was a craftsman whose hands shaped wonders that rivaled the artistry of the great Noldor. Every piece he forged��from delicate filigree to commanding works of grandeur—elevated the city’s renown, drawing envy and admiration alike from far and wide. To them, he was their most exquisite jewel, a master whose presence set their city apart, casting it in a light that even Aman’s stars could envy.

You stood nearby, watching the procession of visitors as they offered their apologies for Calandil’s behavior. Some wrung their hands nervously, their voices quick and deferential, while others were more measured, their eyes lingering on Mairon as though they feared displeasing him. You knew their motives well. They could not bear the thought of upsetting the man who had raised their stature through his craft, his creations a testament to a brilliance they could scarcely comprehend.

Mairon, for his part, accepted their words with calm detachment, his gaze as sharp and assessing as the blades he shaped. But you could see the faint flicker of satisfaction in his eyes, the subtle way his hands moved with precision even under their watchful stares. He remained silent for the most part, letting their words pass over him like a gentle breeze, his confidence unshaken.

To them, he was the embodiment of perfection, a being who had gifted their city a place among the greats. And to you, he was something more—a man whose fire and tenderness had entwined with your own, his presence a melody that played in harmony with your very soul.

So it was no surprise when one of the city’s officials sought you out one late afternoon, just as you had finished tidying up from your lesson with the children. The room still held the soft echoes of their laughter, and you were carefully arranging the books and materials for tomorrow’s lesson, your heart quietly anticipating Mairon’s arrival. As always, he would come to walk you home, a routine that had grown as familiar and comforting as the rhythm of your days.

The official’s presence startled you at first, his figure framed in the doorway. You hadn’t caught his name, but his demeanor exuded formality, and the reverence with which he addressed you was striking. Though you had come to expect some deference as Mairon’s betrothed, the magnitude of his respect took you aback.

“My lady,” he began, bowing his head slightly, his tone warm and measured.

“What can I do for you, my lord?” you asked, moving to retrieve your satchel as you tilted your head curiously at him.

“The city wishes to honor both you and Master Mairon,” he said, his words deliberate, as though carefully chosen. “We would like to hold a wedding ceremony in your honor. I understand that Master Mairon is a private man, and we can keep the event small and intimate if that is your wish, but we would also like to host a feast to celebrate you both. It would be a way to show our gratitude—for the work you do with the children, and for the unparalleled artistry Master Mairon has brought to our city.”

His sincerity was evident, his posture respectful as he awaited your response. The weight of his words settled on you, not heavy but warm, as though the city itself had embraced the bond you shared with Mairon and sought to honor it in a way that matched the reverence they held for him.

“I will speak it over with my lord and let you know his answer,” you said with a polite nod. The official returned your words with a warm, courteous smile, bowing respectfully before taking his leave. Just as he disappeared from view, you felt it—a familiar presence drawing near. The gentle shimmer of your ring and the subtle pull of the bond between you announced his arrival before your eyes could catch him.

You stepped outside to meet him, a playful smile gracing your lips as Mairon’s emerald eyes locked onto yours. His expression was one of curiosity, as though he were trying to unravel the reason for your pleasant mood. “All done for the day, my lord?” you teased, slipping your hand into the crook of his outstretched arm.

He tilted his head slightly, his gaze sharp yet amused. “You seem… unusually pleased,” he remarked, his tone light but laced with suspicion.

You only chuckled softly, leaning closer as you began your walk together. Since that evening in the forge, you had avoided speaking of the tension with Calandil. Even with Eärlindë, who had made every effort to bridge the growing divide between you, you had remained distant, unwilling to reopen the wounds her brother’s actions had inflicted.

But it had taken a toll on you, and you knew Mairon could sense it. The glow that once radiated from you had dimmed slightly, a shadow lingering in your fëa. He hadn’t pressed you to speak of it, yet his watchful gaze and the quiet comfort he offered in his every action revealed that he knew.

Mairon’s fingers brushed against yours lightly as you walked, his touch grounding you. He understood your longing to have your friend at your side once more, and he understood the pain of a bond strained by choices beyond your control. Though the tension weighed on you both, his silent presence was an anchor—a reminder that even in moments of fracture, your harmony with him would not falter.

As you walked arm in arm with Mairon, his steady presence grounding you, your playful smile faltered for just a moment. The weight of the unspoken lingered between you, a shadow cast by the rift that had grown with Eärlindë since that fateful evening. Mairon glanced down at you, his emerald eyes catching the flicker of your momentary sadness, though he said nothing. He rarely pressed, letting your emotions ebb and flow as they would, yet you knew he noticed every nuance.

“I spoke with an official today,” you began softly, your voice carrying a lightness you hoped would mask the deeper thoughts weighing on you. His brow raised slightly, curiosity flickering in his expression. “They wish to honor us—with a wedding ceremony and feast.”

Mairon hummed, his gaze forward, his steps measured as he processed your words. “A public affair?” he asked, his tone calm but contemplative.

“They offered to keep it small, intimate,” you replied, glancing up at him, searching his face for a sign of his feelings. “But they wish to celebrate your work. You are their most treasured craftsman.”

A faint smile touched his lips, though his gaze remained thoughtful. “It is not my craft that should be celebrated, Meldanya,” he murmured, the endearment slipping from his lips like a caress. “But the bond we have forged.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, but your heart tightened as the lingering ache of the past weeks returned. “I would have wished for Eärlindë to stand beside me,” you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I fear her brother has made that impossible.”

Mairon’s steps slowed, and he turned his gaze to you fully, his hand covering yours where it rested on his arm. “Time will mend what is meant to be mended,” he said, his voice steady, the weight of his presence wrapping around you like a shield. “And what cannot be mended, we will endure together.”

The warmth of his words soothed some of the ache in your chest, and you nodded, leaning into him as you walked on.

After escorting you safely home, Mairon returned to his own abode, the familiar solitude greeting him like an old companion. He moved to sit upon his neatly made bed, the orderliness of the room bringing him a fleeting sense of peace. For a moment, the quiet steadied him, but it was not long before the creeping shadows of his past began to stir.

His gaze drifted toward the piles of parchment stacked on his desk, their edges curling slightly in the warm air of the room. The sight should have filled him with purpose, but instead, a cold unease began to settle in his chest. He tried to shake the feeling, to cast the unwelcome thoughts away, but the tendrils of darkness were already coiling around his mind, their grip unrelenting.

“So this is where you are, servant?” The voice, dark and familiar, slithered into his thoughts, chilling him to his core. It was smooth and mocking, a cruel reminder of what he had tried so hard to leave behind. “You think yourself redeemed?”

A chuckle followed, low and bitter, echoing in the quiet of his room though no one was there. Mairon clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he fought against the words, against the presence that lingered like a shadow over his every step. His master’s voice, though distant, still held the power to shake him, to remind him of the weight he carried and the chains he had yet to break.

“No,” Mairon finally breathed, his voice low but firm, as he tried to shut out Melkor’s prodding. The effort took all his focus, yet he could still feel the darkness pressing against his thoughts, insidious and unrelenting. Over the past few days, his former master’s presence had grown more pronounced, like a shadow creeping closer. Mairon knew what it meant. Melkor’s strength was returning, even if his attention was divided for now. It was only a matter of time before he issued the inevitable summons, calling Mairon back to Angband to shatter the fragile bliss he had built here.

“Oh, Mairon,” Melkor’s voice slithered through his mind, mocking and cruel, the sound heavy with disdain. “She has truly softened you, hasn’t she? Filled your head with foolish notions of redemption.”

The voice chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating like a distant thunderstorm. “The great Moriquendi smith,” Melkor drawled, his tone dripping with contempt. “That is what they call you, is it not? A title so grand for one who crawled to me, begging for purpose.”

Mairon clenched his fists, his breath shallow as he fought to block out the words, yet they coiled tightly around his thoughts, refusing to be silenced. “You are my pet,” Melkor sneered, his voice slithering through Mairon’s mind like venom. “Remember that. Nothing you do will ever outshine me. Even she will bow to me, whether by her will or by yours. You’ll see to it if you must.”

Mairon’s jaw tightened, his fists trembling as he fought to force the voice out, pressing harder against the door to his mind in a desperate attempt to shut it. But Melkor’s presence lingered, and with one final, taunting phrase, he left his parting blow.

“She is truly a gift from Varda herself,” Melkor mused, his tone dripping with false admiration. “Perhaps I should make her mine, for she is hardly worthy of a weakling like you.”

Mairon’s breath hitched, the words slicing through him, igniting a fury so fierce it made his vision blur. His hands gripped the edge of the bed tightly, his knuckles white as he wrestled with the rage threatening to consume him. Yet even as his mind burned, the melody of your bond thrummed softly in the background, steadying him, reminding him of what was real and what he must protect.

And like the cool breath of dawn breaking a restless night, his master relinquished Mairon’s mind, leaving him shaken but free to think once more. His heart thundered in his chest, and his thoughts immediately turned to you. Rising swiftly from his bed, he stepped into the darkening street, his steps quick and determined as he followed the pull of your song. It called to him like fuel beckons the flame, guiding him toward the only solace he knew. He had to see you, to know you were unharmed and untouched by Melkor’s insidious presence. Now that his master knew of you, the thought clawed at his mind, filling him with dread.

When Mairon reached your door, the soft hum of your fëa greeted him, its melody pure and bright even against the encroaching shadows of the night. Relief washed over him as he stood there, your light a balm to his frayed nerves. He lifted his hand to knock but paused, hesitating as doubt seeped in. You were safe, untouched, and knowing this should have been enough.

But it was not enough. Before he could stop himself, his knuckles rapped against the wooden door, the sound echoing softly in the quiet night. A light shuffle followed, and the door creaked open, revealing your delicate face framed by the soft glow of candlelight spilling from your home.

His gaze traced over you, drinking in the sight as though it were the first time. Your features, illuminated in the dim light, seemed ethereal, a vision of calm amidst the chaos that had plagued his mind. Yet, as his eyes wandered downward, those earthly desires he had thought long buried stirred within him again. The same fire that had ignited the first time he laid eyes upon you now burned anew, deep and unrelenting.

The sweetness of your scent drifted toward him, wrapping around his senses as you leaned casually against the wooden doorframe, the candlelight casting a soft glow over your figure covered only by a sheer material. Leaving nothing to imagination.

“To what do I owe the visit?” you asked playfully, your voice light and teasing. You could see the way his gaze lingered, his usual composure faltering as if he were at a loss for words. The way you stood there, so effortlessly radiant, seemed to captivate him completely, drawing him in like a moth to flame.

Desire stirred within him, undeniable and fierce, yet Mairon held it at bay. He drank in your presence, his fëa drawn to yours in ways both profound and earthly, but he would not let himself give in to the darker impulses lurking within. He wished only to protect and cherish the innocence you carried, even as the part of him that thrived on shadow ached to claim you entirely, to pull you into his world and lose himself in you.

“I wanted to ensure you were safe,” he finally managed, his voice low and measured, though the storm of emotions within him churned relentlessly.

“How could I not be safe when I have you?” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips. The words warmed him, but they also pierced his heart. He wished it could be true, that his presence alone could shield you from all harm. Yet the looming shadow of his master’s return cast a heavy weight upon him. He knew too well the power Melkor wielded, and with his attention now drawn to you, there would be no safety even in Mairon’s arms.

He sighed, his eyes flickering with unspoken worry. “I apologize for disturbing you,” he said, his voice steady but subdued, as though he regretted the burden he carried to your doorstep. You reached out, your fingers curling gently around his wrist, the warmth of your touch stopping him in his tracks. The simple gesture spoke volumes, silently telling him that he was not a disturbance but a source of joy, a presence you longed for.

“Come inside,” you said softly, a mischievous smile dancing on your lips, your eyes glimmering with unspoken yearning. The cool evening air only seemed to heighten the palpable pull between you, the subtle tension that hung like a thread waiting to be woven into something more.

Once inside, you leaned your backside against your wooden table, arms supporting you as Mairon walked up to you. His deep, fiery scent filled your nostrils and begged your eyes to close, waiting patiently for what would come. You had sensed his wish to bed you the moment he took you in at the door, your gown giving him visage to something no being could turn away from.

The silence of the small room was only cut by both your labored breaths. Mairon leaned in and kissed your lips gently, as if just to taste that you were real, before moving to grasp your hip. His touch was so gentle it almost felt like only a whisper of shadows gracing your clothed hip. “May I?” he breathed against your lips.

“You may,” you say breathlessly as his fingers move to untie the top of your gown. His hands were delicate against the tiny strings as he undid them, revealing a piece of you he had never touched before. His fingers parted the gown as his lips captured yours once more, this time hungrier and more eager to devour. Your arms moved to wrap around his neck, fingers lacing in his ginger hair while his fingers skated across the soft skin of your breastbone. He only parted from your lips when he wished to speak.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed against your jaw as your fingers traced the sensitive points of his ears, causing a groan of satisfaction to float across your skin. “I am hardly worthy of your beauty, my divine. " You smiled and tilted your head slightly as if to permit him to continue his gentle exploration of you.

Every piece of you alight with need and soaked in arousal as his fingers ghosted over your throat before he journeyed downward, though not before he hoisted you onto the wooden table. Mairon’s compliment of your beauty only added to the fuel of the fire burning in both of you.

His fingers moved to push the fabric over your hips as if to create a place he could neatly fit into. The very place he was meant to and that Eru had created for him. Mairon’s lips captured yours again as your hands cupped his face before breaking away, only to push the shoulder of your gown down, already growing tired of this prolonged wait for the climax you desired.

His eyes flamed with a new fire as he took in your delicate skin as it was exposed to him. Mairon wanted nothing more than to carve his mark upon you so no being could ever wonder who your equal was. His fëa sang as more and more skin was exposed until your breasts were on display for him.

The round mounds of flesh were perky and delicate as your nipples hardened against the cool air. He licked his lips before you spoke, bringing his gaze up to meet yours. The candle’s light casting warm glows against you, causing him to harden even more against his mortal form.

In the dim light that almost bordered on darkness, you were your most beautiful, he mused. The shadows added to your ethereal beauty, almost like the light, and shadows knew of your name and status as an elf of the dark, showing him your true place in Eru’s grand design.

“It is yours, my Mairon,” you breathed. “I have given you my soul and my heart; let me now give you my hröa,” A delicate smile filled your lips as those green gems flicked across your face. “We would be one in their eyes, husband and wife.” Mairon sunk to his knees before you, and those soft pillowy lips moved to caress your inner thigh. A satisfied whimper pushed through your lips as your eyes closed and your soul pulled at his. Threads calling out as you searched for the right song to sing at this moment, hoping that when the time came, his would match yours in blissful synchronization.

He nipped at the delicate skin of your inner thigh. Your hips fighting the urge to roll towards him. Strong hands gripped down on your thighs before moving up as he did, touching every inch of you. Your head fell back, and your eyes closed as you braced for what was to come, but Mairon paused at your entrance.

“For all eternity?” he breathed against your skin, the warmth of his breath skating across your slick opening, causing you to shiver at the anticipation crawling across your skin. You knew nothing of the deeper implication of his question nor its darker meaning.

Would you bind yourself even to the darkness within him?

“Yes,” Your voice breathless and full of want. It was only a brief moment that separated the answer and the moment the promise was sealed with his lips against you. You moaned at the newfound feeling spreading across your skin as he ate you like a starved animal. The fire that seemed to encompass him now ebbed and flowed against you. It crawled its way up your body and filled you with bliss as you instinctually rolled your hips against his face, giving more friction to your needy mound. The sensation was otherworldly as you fought to keep yourself anchored to the table, afraid you might float away due to his ministrations.

Mairon halted your movements and broke away, causing you to whimper at his retreat. Your eyes opened, and you moved to gaze upon the man you ached to bind your whole being to. Slick ran down his chin, eyes blown wide in lust and reverence, a scene you wished to commit to memory. Your fingers moved to run through his ginger strands as he gazed upon you once more, only this time from where he wished to stay.

Knelt at the altar to your very being, to worship the beauty that had captivated him and to seek the light once more.

Not for redemption, but for purpose.

“Mairon,” you said gently as your fingers moved to caress his chin. A smile touched his lips at the way your melodic and sweet tone wrapped around the syllables of his name. He ached to hear you scream it in ecstasy as you both rode out your highs to the heavens themselves, to dance across the stars and do nothing more than make love and be merry.

“Yes, divine,” He breathed before gently kissing your wrist.

“You think yourself unworthy of me, but I am unworthy of the divine being underneath my fingertips.” Mairon chuckled softly before standing again, arms cradling you like you only dreamed of. You felt like his whole world in this moment, like he saw only you as the greatest of his creations. He hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist before carrying you up to your rooms.

His hands tore away your gown before he laid you on the crisp sheets of your bed. You watched as he got to work undoing his clothing until he moved like a predator in the dark to encase your bare frame with his. Your body aching to feel his skin meet yours in only the way the gods had designed husband and wife to achieve.

Those lips traveled down every inch of your soft skin as he embedded it into his memory, hands skating across the areas his lips could not, all the while your own clawed at his scalp. In no light, only the moonshine that trickled in from your window, he was of the most exquisite quality, the way his sculpted lines and a light dusting of chest hair felt against your fingertips as they danced across his form, worshiping it as you went. But what captivated you the most was how his red hair seemed to gleam brighter against the room's shadows, illuminating him in a fiery ember as his eyes burned with equal parts devotion and hunger.

He muttered words in a tongue you were unfamiliar with as he nipped at your hip before gazing at you again. A youthful smile touched your lips as his gaze lingered longer than you deemed appropriate for this moment.

“What’s the matter, love?” You ask in almost a whisper. His fingers caressed your cheek, thumb making delicate circles there.

“You truly are a Moriquendi,” he breathed against your face. “For the dark is your home, and the moon is your faithful companion.” Your face blossomed with a hue as his lips captured yours again. He moaned against your lips as you ran your fingertips across the shell of his ears once more. “I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Mairon whispered against your jaw as he moved to position himself between the moon of your thighs. You nodded in response, and he gave you a light nip of the jaw. “Good girl,” his silky smooth voice complimented, sending your core flaming at the praise.

Anticipation drove your pulse sky-high as you felt his fingers cascade down toward your wanting core, only to trace the slick through his fingers as he moved to wet himself. “My sweet wife,” he breathed softly; your eyes closed as your pulse pumped loudly in your ears. You felt him at your entrance. Then, in a light thrust, he broke past and stretched you as no being had done before. A groan left his lips, and a whimper left yours as the pain of him turned into a dull ache as he thrust lightly until you were adjusted to him.

You felt so fucking good around him, clenching and milking him of every ounce of his being. Your fëar finally found each other, and the songs it sang were nothing shy of the ones in which the Aniur sang this world into creation. Your walls fluttered as his pace quickened, and he leaned down to kiss and suck on your clavicle. Teeth pulling at the skin as this strong arm moved to wrap around your lower back, pulling you to meet every one of his thrusts. The new angle had you shivering against his grasp as stars shone above your darkened eyelids, his pace inside you causing your mind to white out in a wet, hot release of pleasure.

The sweet sounds of your bodies colliding and breathy moans filled the room, driving you both into a plane of existence where nothing else mattered. There was no Melkor, no lies, and no darkness. Just the warmth of each other's embrace as you relinquished your hröa’s to each other.

Mairon kissed below your eyes and slowed his pace to get your attention. “Open your eyes, my sweet Mori. Show me the stars within your eyes so I may commit their pattern to memory.” You opened your eyes and were again met with his gaze, soft and wanton with relinquished desire. Mairon leaned up, took your left hand into his right, and squeezed the silver band against his palm as he drew you up so you were flesh with him now, straddling his lap but still so deliciously full of him. The new angle sent your core pulsing and your mind weeping with the need for friction again.

He was free to bring your ringed hand to his lips, the blue inscription shining brightly against the rays of moonlight. “For my fairest maiden, remember this night, and we shall never be parted. I will remember the stars in your eyes.” He spoke just before kissing the ring, only for you to capture his lips afterward.

“And I will remember the fiery harvest moon in your very being.” You breathed against his lips. He chuckled but groaned when your hips drove against his. You both finally gave in to the other, filling the room with a chorus of names and endearments that even the Valar could not miss.

You came first, clawing at his scalp as your sweat-covered forehead laid against his. Your breath floated across his face as you struggled to regain it while he drove you into overstimulation. Noses touching even as he kept the movements going, and the clenching of your walls finally drew him into his own with a low grunt.

Your fingers cupped his cheeks as you looked down at him in the moonlight. His eyes were dark but full of satisfaction as his hands ran up your bare back. You wished to stay like this, conjoined forever in the deepest of embraces. Your lips leaned in and kissed his sweaty lips, tasting him again before he pulled away to gaze up at you.

You remain in each other’s embrace, the world around you fading as time seems to stretch into eternity. The steady rhythm of his breathing matches your own, a melody of unity that neither of you wishes to break. It isn’t until a soft yawn escapes your lips that the spell is gently shattered, and Mairon chuckles lowly, the sound a soothing rumble that vibrates through his chest.

With careful hands, he eases you onto the bed, his movements deliberate and tender. You instinctively curl closer to him, nestling into the warmth of his embrace as though it were the safest place in all of Arda. Your ear rests against his chest, the steady beat of his heart echoing in perfect harmony with your own. It lulls you, each thrum pulling you deeper into the quiet serenity of dreams, where his presence remains as constant as the stars above.

His heart ached with a quiet desperation, knowing this blessed time with you was drawing to an end. The fragile peace you shared felt like a fleeting dream, soon to be consumed by the looming shadow that threatened to overshadow the light of your union.

The carefully woven lie he had told himself began to unravel, thread by thread, as the shadow deep within his soul stirred, awakening once more.

For he would never truly know the light again—not in its fullness, not in the way your presence allowed him to glimpse it. The darkness, ever patient, awaited him, and he could not escape its grasp.

The older women of the city worked tirelessly, weaving intricate braids into your hair and adorning it with strands of silver and pearls they had carefully collected. Their hands moved with precision and care, their voices soft with reverence as they whispered songs of old, blessing you. Though you felt unworthy of such extravagance, they insisted, their determination unwavering.

“You must shine as brightly as the stars,” one of them said, draping a delicate shawl of shimmering gossamer over your shoulders. They believed that by enhancing your natural radiance, they might draw the favor of the Valar, offering you their finest blessings and ensuring your union would be one of harmony and prosperity.

Even as you gazed at your reflection, the silks, pearls, and braids catching the golden light, a part of you still felt undeserving of such finery. Yet their devotion, their unyielding belief in the significance of this day, began to settle into your heart, filling you with quiet gratitude for their love and care.

“Thank you,” you breathed to the woman, offering her a warm smile. “I truly do not deserve such an honor.”

“Ah, but you do,” came a silvery sweet voice from the doorway. You turned, your heart lifting at the sight of her—dark hair cascading like silk and soft blue eyes that radiated wisdom and kindness. Eäriel, the woman who had graced your early years in Laureandor, entered the room with a serene presence. It was she who had nurtured your craft, guiding you with gentle hands and teaching you to cherish all things that grew and roamed in the lands around the city.

Laureandor, the Golden Realm. The Eldar called it such now, a beacon of light and hope in a world where shadow had begun to creep ever closer. Its beauty and radiance stood in stark contrast to the encroaching darkness that saddened so many of your kin.

“Ladies, may I?” Eäriel asked with a slight incline of her head, her voice laced with both grace and authority. The other women bowed their heads respectfully to the elder elf, stepping aside to allow her presence in the room.

Eäriel, mother of Calandil and Eärlindë, and wife of Ulmoion, carried a lineage as ancient as the stars. She was of the first Elves who had dwelt by the sea, her love for its life and the currents of its waters unparalleled. Her wisdom and calm had been a cornerstone of Laureandor, a guiding light for so many, including you. Now, as she stepped closer, her gaze rested on you with a quiet pride that warmed your heart.

“My lady,” you murmured, bowing your head softly in her direction. But Eäriel, with her graceful demeanor, waved the gesture away with a gentle smile before stepping toward you. In her hands, she carried an intricate weaving of metal, its craftsmanship so fine it seemed to have been wrought by the hands of the Valar themselves. The piece gleamed in the fading light of the setting sun, its jewels vibrant and alive, like stars caught within its delicate design.

“You came to us in a dark time, Mornelótë,” she said, her voice soft and steady. You stood still in front of the mirror, hardly daring to move, captivated by her words. Her presence carried the weight of ages, and her tone wove a tale of belonging and purpose.

“But we are as one kin,” she continued, her eyes glinting with the memory of distant times. “Traveling over Ered Luin in search of the Blessed Realm, driven by the song of the West.” Her steps slowed as she reached your side, her gaze falling upon you with a quiet fondness. “Yet our hearts never fully felt the call that others did. We were bound to this land, tied to its beauty and life, for our destinies were always meant to take root here.”

She lifted the metal weaving gently, its light dancing against your reflection in the mirror, as though it too acknowledged the story she carried. Her words settled around you, not as a burden, but as a connection—an unspoken bond to the history and kinship that surrounded you now.

“My lady, I would never consider myself—” you began, your voice faltering as you tried to object. But she silenced you once more with a soft wave of her hand, stepping closer to place the intricate metal weaving into your hair. Her movements were careful and reverent, and as the jewels settled against your forehead, they seemed to catch and hold the light, as though starlight itself had been captured within their design.

“In this land,” she said, her voice rich with conviction, “you are the very image of Varda herself. Not I, nor my daughter, but you.” She smiled, her blue eyes shimmering with an almost maternal pride. “Tintilmë, as our people shall know you now. She who sparkles. Long forgotten is that dark, forboding name.”

A flutter stirred in your chest, your heart swelling with emotion as her hand moved to caress your cheek. The warmth of her touch steadied you, grounding you in the gravity of her words. “You, Tintilm��, who sparkles like Varda’s stars, shall one day find your place among them. You will bring beauty to this land as you have already blessed this city with your light.”

Names were everything to your people, a reflection of one’s soul and purpose, woven into the melody of existence itself. To be graced with a name as honorous as that of Varda, the Lady of the Stars, carried an immense weight. It was not merely a title but a legacy, a mantle of light to bear even in the darkest of nights. Varda, the purest of luminaries, was a beacon to all, and now her reflection rested upon you. It was a gift of reverence, but also a promise—a destiny you would have to honor for the rest of your days.

“For now, you will be bound to the one who is most Admirable, one whose skill surpasses even Aulë himself,” Eäriel said softly, her voice carrying a weight of certainty. “He who is truly worthy of a maiden such as you.” Her fingers gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, her touch as light as a whisper.

From beneath her robes, she drew forth a delicate golden chain, its singular red jewel glowing like a drop of fire captured within its setting. She held it out to you, her expression warm and maternal. “As you have no kin here to honor this union, I will stand as your mother, and Ulmoion as your father.”

Her gaze softened as she stepped closer, placing the chain in your hand to inspect. “This trinket is simple and plain, as is fitting for the moment,” she continued, her tone reverent. “It will never compare to the splendor of what he will bestow upon you, but for now, it serves as a symbol. A reminder for a man so attuned to perfection and order as my lord Mairon is. One who sees in you the harmony that matches his own.” You handed the chain back to her with a gentle smile. “Forged in the great fires of the Noldor, and a jewel crafted by Fëanor himself,” you said softly. “It will be an honor for him to wear until he too may join you in the Blessed Realm.”

Eäriel accepted it with a graceful nod, her expression tender. “Thank you, my lady. I am truly honored, and my heart is full knowing that you have been so accepting of this role and of our kin.”

“Child,” she breathed, her voice laced with an almost wistful affection. “From the moment Calandil spoke of you, I knew it would not be he who would wed you, but another. My son is too blinded by the shadows of this world to see what Eru proclaimed in the earliest of days.”

Her words carried the weight of foresight, her gaze distant as if seeing into a time beyond this moment. Yet as she returned her focus to you, there was warmth in her eyes, as though she found comfort in knowing you had chosen the one truly meant for you.

“My daughter will stand by your side and be your most loyal companion until the end of her days,” Eäriel said gently, her voice carrying a note of earnestness. “She begs your forgiveness so she may share in the splendor and joy of this occasion.”

“I shall grant her that,” you replied softly, your resolve steady as you spoke. Eäriel’s lips curved into a warm smile, and she placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, her touch imbued with quiet strength.

“Good,” she said, her tone lighter now, her eyes glinting with approval. “Now let us not keep them waiting. I believe your betrothed is growing quite restless for you to join him.”

Her words carried a teasing lilt, but the truth of them sent a flutter through your chest. You nodded, a smile tugging at your lips as you prepared yourself to step into the moment you had long awaited.

As you gazed upon him beneath the cascade of falling petals from the great tree, your heart quickened, its rhythm echoing the song that bound you to him. His ginger hair shimmered in the moonlight, glowing as it had the night before, a beacon of warmth amidst the cool silver hues of the evening. His robes, a deep red adorned with intricate golden filigree, outshone even the finest creations of the city’s most skilled artisans. It was as though the fabric itself had been woven by Vairë, each thread telling the story of his magnificence.

A soft warmth spread through you as his gaze met yours, the corners of his lips curving into a smile that was both tender and knowing. He stood, regal yet inviting, his eyes alight as he watched you approach with Eäriel at your side.

Your heart swelled with gratitude that he had agreed to this, granting you the memory of this night, a treasure to carry with you even through the shadows of the future. To have this moment, this beauty you shared, would be a light to hold onto—a testament to the harmony and grace you could bring together to this land, even in its darkest days that were yet to come.

As you approached, he extended his hand, his movements deliberate and filled with reverence. Eäriel, standing at your side, gently placed your delicate hand into his, the warmth of his touch spreading like fire. It crawled up your arm, igniting a sensation that embedded itself deeply within your soul, where it harmonized with the song that had always bound you to him.

Only then did you take in the gathering that had come to honor this moment. Eärlindë stood near the forefront, her dark hair gleaming under the soft light, her eyes reflecting quiet joy. Nearby were the women you had worked alongside, those who had shared in your labor and care during the birth of many children. Scattered among the crowd were the children themselves, their small faces alight with wonder and awe as they beheld their teacher, their mentor, adorned for such an important occasion. Their parents stood behind them, their gazes warm with pride and fondness.

Others came from Mairon’s side, his fellow craftsmen and apprentices, men and women who had grown to admire his skill and discipline. The scene was intimate, just as you both had wished—a gathering of those you cared for, and those who cared for you. It was a quiet testament to the lives you had touched, a circle of kinship and respect encircling the bond you were about to seal.

Ulmoion stepped forward, his bearing regal and calm, as Eäriel moved gracefully to stand beside him. His voice carried a quiet power as he spoke the sacred words, honoring your place as embodiments of Manwë and Varda within this union. His blessings tied you both into a bond that reached beyond the world, one that was sanctified by Eru himself, eternal and unbreakable.

When the words were spoken, Ulmoion turned to you, holding a silver chain that gleamed as brightly as the ring on your finger. The stone at its center, a deep and luminous blue, caught the moonlight in a way that made it appear alive. Its craftsmanship, unmistakably Mairon’s, radiated a brilliance that only his unparalleled skill could achieve.

Your gaze shifted to the fiery-haired man before you, and a smile touched your lips as his softened with emotion. His lips parted, his voice a whisper meant only for you. “For you,” he said, his words as steady as they were heartfelt. “My greatest inspiration, my light in the darkness. May you wear this, so I am never truly parted from you.”

Tears welled in your eyes as Ulmoion stepped closer, placing the chain around your neck. The feather-light touch of the metal sent a ripple through you, its design a perfect testament to Mairon’s love. It was not just a piece of jewelry—it was a symbol of how deeply he yearned for you, of his hope to turn away from the shadows and be bound to the light you brought into his life.

Eäriel then approached, holding a chain forged in the fires of the Noldor. At its center lay a jewel of such radiant beauty that it seemed to carry the light of the Two Trees within it. Her voice was reverent as she spoke. “For you, I gift this chain, forged under the brilliance of the great trees which light this world. A treasure of the Noldor, to honor the flame of your spirit.”

Your gaze returned to Mairon, catching the flicker in his eyes—a brief, almost imperceptible trace of fear as he looked upon the chain and its jewel. But he said nothing, and when you spoke, the warmth of your words seemed to steady him. “For the great smith of Finwë’s line, Fëanor, has crafted this jewel to match both your fiery spirits, and honor a smith of equal stature.”

As the chain was placed around his neck, you saw him brace himself, his features tightening as though expecting some unseen force to strike. But when nothing came, his shoulders relaxed, and his hand instinctively moved to touch the jewel, as though drawing strength from it.

“May you wear this in great honor,” you continued, your voice tender, “and never know separation from your place in my soul.”

Mairon’s gaze met yours then, his emerald eyes filled with an intensity that matched the flame within him. You knew in that moment that this union, bound by light and shadow, was the truest form of love and eternal grace, blessed by the ones who gave you both life.

And for a fleeting moment, it seemed the stars themselves joined in their harmony, singing with joy as the bond was sealed. Far away, the great shadow stirred, his cries of envy and malice echoing in the void as he gazed upon his wayward servant, now standing in the light once more, beyond his reach.

For the whispers that once plagued Mairon had fallen silent, their power diminished. The door to his mind, so long left ajar, was now firmly shut.

#sauron x reader #mairon x reader #sauron #mairon #trop fic #trop #the rings of power #rings of power fic

72 notes · View notes

yourmomxx · 1 year ago

Text

➵ angels talking - social media au | ln4 (2)

❥ pairing - lando norris x fem!singer!reader

❥ plot - the aftermath of you announcing your new relationship

❥ warnings - none

❥ a/n: as always, the pictures are taken off pinterest and therefore do not have any consisency regarding the reader’s looks (as it is a self-insert and the photographs merely are for visualization)

part i | part ii - the number four

masterlist | requests

⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆

landonorris

liked by maxverstappen, parishilton and others

landonorris golden days with my golden girl

view all comments

bella.ltn screaming crying throwing up they’re so cute

paddockgirl not lando being a simp on main

↳ landonorris1 @/paddockgirl he’s just like us fr

carlossainz finally official🙏

↳ f1updates @/carlossainz oh hi carlos

kellypiquet tu ferais mieux de la garder @/landonorris

sebastianvettel real happy for you mate

↳ 33maxverstappen @/sebastianvettel we miss you on the grid

realobama her confused face in the second picture she’s just like me fr

hotchswife at first i didn’t know what to think of this but now i just think it’s amazing

suziesalmon new WAG alert

mollym the internet is going to eat this up

coconutananas NOOOO LANDOO

ynforreal guys we lost yn in the world of single ladies😔✊

↳ lanadelslay @/ynforreal i don’t know how to stay strong in this time of grief

lilymhe LANDO I LOVE YOU FOR THIS

↳ alexalbon @/lilymhe ???

alexalbon you just had to start dating my girlfriend’s favorite singer mate didn’t you?

lilyzneimer wishing you guys all the best

alexandrasaintmleux ♥️♥️

↳ lanadelslay @/alexandrasaintmleux ALEX HIII

ao3chick love how all the driver’s girlfriends are commenting like moms signing cards in the name of their kids

danielricciardo congrats!!!

↳ landonorris @/danielricciardo i saw your comment on her post

↳ danielricciardo @/landonorris what comment on whose post? i don’t even speak english🦡

lastlaplando not them being cute

julie.ss highway looking real cozy right now🤭

f1n1fan seb being the proud mom i love him🫶

♔꙳⋆ twitter ꙳⋆

♔꙳⋆ instagram ꙳⋆

yourusername

liked by landonorris, oliviarodrigo and others

yourusername excited to tell you that my new song ‘444’ is available to listen to now on all music streaming platforms! oh, and also that my new album will be released november 22nd😘save the date

view all comments

itsbrutalouthere not her telling us about a new album TWO WEEKS before it comes out

sabrinacarpenter song is so amazing babe

papayagirl someone please call taylor swift and get that girl some marketing help😭

lukehemmings 🔥🔥

oliviarodrigo LOVE IT

iknewyouweretrouble I just listened to the song and i am deceased

ynisbabe 444? EXCUSE ME THE MATH

hannahmountana this song is so hot i can’t -

jessicag you did so well with this!!

amslerin please come to la on the next tour i wanna see you live so bad😩😩

jana_gp GIRL WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE ANGELS TOLD YOU HES NOT RIGHT FOR YOU

↳ xemily @/jana_gp WHAT DO YOU MEAN THE NUMBER 444 WAS A SIGN TO LEAVE HIM

ynlnn the background music? the vocals?? i can’t anymore

tswizzle 444 the math is so beautiful on this one

kellykiwi the mv awakened something in me

urnamehere i love this song so much

hamiltonh 444? a fourth album? lando the number four?? BESTIE

therealyn queen of manifesting fr

ferrarisupreme “444 you saved my life i really got these angels by my side” lando norris the man👏 that👏you👏 are👏

tangledinu NEW ALBUM YES

midnightprentiss already presaved i’m so excited

ameliadahlia why is everyone talking about math here?? someone explain i’m so lost😭

↳ sabrinajenga @/ameliadahlia @/girlsplainingcelebrities made a post explaining it all, i’ll tag you🫶

girlsplainingcelebrities

liked by papayagirl, sarahprg and others

girlsplainingcelebrities another day, another girlsplain! today, what the number four means to our favorite popstar girly, yn yln!!🩷

view all comments

boxnexx not to mention that the new album she’s releasing will be her fourth!!! so excited what she has planned for us

zeeema the whole thing with her and lando is so cute

emilyx i always look forward to your posts☺️🙏

sabrinajenga @/amiadahlia

herbsherm whoever runs this account, you have saved my ass so many times, hope your pillow is cold on both sides

leaglb whether you believe in angel numbers or not, these would be a whole of a lot coincidences

formeformulas when i heard "every time i see 444 it means no more i know for sure" i was FREAKING

cheesestrings ALSO not to mention her album comes out on november 22ND - 2+2=?

tswizzle she’s so smart i love her

ynisbabe when my teachers told me i would need maths outside of school they actually meant this

carlaarcher can we please all agree that 444 is about her relationship with arthur and that it was basically lando who made her realize he wasn’t good enough?

↳ paddockgirl @/carlaarcher GURL FR no way those two didn’t have something going on

↳ leclercsgirl @/paddockgirl besides, the media didn’t see her with any other guy during that time the song is probably set, so it CAN only be arthur

↳ itsellie @/leclersgirl would explain their radio silence with each other as well

↳ bella.ltn @/itsellie tbh if my boyfriend practically stopped posting me on his social media or acknowledging my existence the moment we got more serious i would dump that man too

vanityfair and yourusername

liked by tswizzle, papayagirl and others

vanityfair Singer-Songwriter YN YLN talks Split from Rumoured Childhood Romance Arthur Leclerc, Release of New Song and Announcement of Fourth Album, and Relationship with Formula 1-Driver Lando Norris

Click on the Link in the Bio to watch the entire Interview

view all comments

coconutananas that caption is longer than my life span😭

mollym girl was busy the past few weeks

ylnwife i am so in love with everything this woman has been doing for the past few months, this is amazing

factorfic just watched it and it is so amazing!! love how her and lando have the same sass, they fit perfectly tbh

charthurleclerc the day we find out what really happened between her and arthur leclerc will be the day i can finally rest

itsbrutalouthere "I'm a ferrari girl" -YN YLN, girlfriend of MCLAREN DRIVER Lando Norris, 2023

↳ landonorris1 @/itsbrutalouthere loved her for this

↳ bimess @/itsbrutalouthere PLS the way she was like "I love my boyfriend but everytime a ferrari is on pole I risk a breakup" she's so real

ynisbabe she looks so good here hello???

emilyzkn can’t wait for the albummmmm oh my god

jilledits i swear to god if she spills more tea about arthur i will be FERAL

wanderwall now all we need is someone interviewing lando about her and my life will be complete

jawdropforkpop i’m already so excited for her new album, i can’t even

peppyi her new song was so good, can’t wait for the album!!

448 notes · View notes

onebadassunicorn · 25 days ago

Text

The Spy Who Loved Me

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: none really, just some kissing.

word count: 5.9K

Taglist: @motheroffae

If you would like to be added to the taglist, please leave me a comment!

Chapter 1

********

Chapter 2

The Summer Court’s palace shimmered like a mirage against the sapphire sea, its golden spires reflecting the sunlight as waves lapped gently at the white sand below. It was a picture of peace and prosperity, but you knew better than to be lulled by its serene beauty.

Beneath its calm surface, the court was as rife with politics and subterfuge as any other.

You stepped into Tarquin’s private council chamber, where the High Lord awaited you. The room was filled with the scent of salt and sun, the light streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the sparkling sea. Tarquin stood by the window, his arms crossed over his chest, his turquoise eyes scanning the horizon. He turned as you entered, his expression calm but sharp, his gaze immediately locking onto you.

“You’re back,” he said simply, his voice rich with curiosity and authority.

You inclined your head, stepping further into the room and closing the door behind you. “I am. The ball went as expected—perhaps better.”

Tarquin gestured for you to sit at the table in the center of the room, and you took your seat as he lowered himself into the chair opposite you. His focus never wavered, his sharp mind already piecing together the weight of your expression and the tone of your voice.

“Tell me everything,” he said.

You recounted the events of the Autumn Court’s masquerade in meticulous detail. The atmosphere, the key players, the whispers you overheard. When you reached the part about Eris Vanserra, Tarquin leaned forward slightly, his interest piqued.

“He noticed me immediately,” you said, keeping your voice steady. “It took little effort to draw his attention. He was… enchanted, or at least pretended to be. We danced several times, and he invited me to walk with him in the gardens.”

Tarquin’s brow furrowed, though not in disapproval. “And?”

“I kept to the persona we crafted,” you assured him. “Kaela, from a lesser court with ties to the Summer Court. I dropped your name subtly, as planned. He seemed intrigued but didn’t press too hard. If anything, he seemed more interested in my… presence.”

Your words trailed off, and Tarquin’s lips twitched in a faint smile. “Eris is well-known for being easily swayed by beauty, especially when it serves his ambitions. I take it he was quite forward?”

You nodded. “He kissed me before we returned to the ballroom.”

Tarquin leaned back, his expression unreadable for a moment as he processed the information. Finally, he spoke, his tone measured. “It’s a good start. If Eris is already that taken with you, it will make the next steps easier. But you must tread carefully. Eris may seem infatuated, but he’s as cunning as his father. He’ll test you, and if he finds even a hint of deception, he won’t hesitate to turn on you.”

“I understand,” you said firmly. “What do you want me to do next?”

Tarquin’s gaze hardened slightly, the weight of his responsibility evident in his expression. “We need to confirm what Beron is planning. The rumors of an uprising have reached too many ears to be mere speculation. If Beron is aligning himself with outside forces—Hybern sympathizers, rogue courts, or even traitors within the High Lords—then we need to know. Eris is your way in. He’s ambitious, yes, but he’s also desperate to prove himself superior to his father. Use that.”

You nodded, already anticipating the intricacies of what would come next. “The Autumnal Equinox is in a week. Eris will expect me to be there.”

“Good.” Tarquin’s voice softened slightly, though his resolve remained unshaken. “Keep the ruse intact. Push for more, but don’t overplay your hand. Beron is ruthless, and if he so much as suspects you’re working against him, no alliance with me will save you.”

His warning was clear, but there was also trust in his gaze. He had chosen you for this mission because he believed in your skill, in your ability to navigate the perilous waters of Autumn’s politics. You had spent years honing your craft in the shadows of the Summer Court, learning to become whoever the situation demanded.

This was no different.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

“There’s one more thing,” you said carefully, hesitating for the first time. “Someone else was there. From the Night Court.”

Tarquin’s brows furrowed, a shadow of concern crossing his face. “Who?”

“Their spymaster,” you replied. “Azriel.”

Tarquin’s reaction was subtle, but his eyes darkened. “What did he want?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “He danced with me, asked who I was, and seemed… suspicious. He watched me the entire night, even when I was with Eris. He’s perceptive, Tarquin. If anyone can sense something is amiss, it’s him.”

Tarquin’s jaw tightened, his fingers tapping lightly against the table. “That complicates things. The Night Court has no love for Beron, but Azriel’s presence suggests they’re watching Autumn closely. If he suspects you, he may try to intervene—and that could ruin everything.”

“I’ll be careful,” you promised. “I don’t think he trusts me, but he has no proof of who I really am.”

Tarquin studied you for a moment, his gaze weighing something unspoken. Finally, he nodded. “Very well. Continue with the mission. But be wary of Azriel. The spymaster is not someone to underestimate. If he’s watching you, then he’s already planning his next move.”

“I understand.”

As you rose to leave, Tarquin’s voice stopped you. “One more thing,” he said. “I trust you to see this through, but remember: your safety is not worth the secrets we seek. If it becomes too dangerous, pull out. Do you hear me?”

You hesitated, then nodded. “I hear you.”

But as you left the chamber and stepped out into the sunlit halls of the Summer Court, the weight of the mission settled heavily on your shoulders.

You couldn’t afford to fail—not for Tarquin, not for the Summer Court, and not for yourself.

The stakes were rising, and the lines between loyalty and deception were beginning to blur.

********

The Autumn Court was alight with the golden hues of the equinox, a celebration of harvest and fire, of the season’s fleeting beauty before the long, cold descent of winter. The festival sprawled across Beron’s grand estate, spilling from the opulent halls into the sprawling courtyards and gardens, where lanterns cast flickering shadows across the leaves.

This time, you wore no mask.

Your gown was a masterpiece of autumn’s essence, crafted from silken fabrics in shades of burnt orange, deep crimson, and gold that shimmered like fire when you moved. The neckline framed your collarbones elegantly, and your honey-colored eyes gleamed with intelligence and quiet determination as you stepped into the festivities. Your dark hair was loosely braided, intertwined with strands of gold and tiny jeweled leaves, as though autumn itself had claimed you as its muse.

The court was alive with music and laughter, the scent of spiced cider and roasted meats wafting through the air. Long tables groaned beneath the weight of seasonal delicacies: golden pastries, rich stews, glistening fruits, and warm breads. Dancers swirled in the courtyard to the lively hum of fiddles and drums, their movements as wild and untamed as the season they celebrated.

You moved through the crowd with effortless grace, your every step drawing attention. Males turned to look as you passed, their gazes lingering too long on the sway of your hips, the way the lanterns caught the fire of your gown. You felt their stares, their whispered words, but you paid them no mind.

You were used to this by now—attention was a tool, and tonight, it was one you wielded with precision.

Eris, as always, was pleased by the effect you had on others. He stood near the main table, clad in deep red and gold, his fiery hair catching the light. His amber eyes followed your every move, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he noticed the way other males watched you.

He liked that they wanted you.

He liked it even more that you remained by his side when he summoned you.

But tonight, someone else was watching you, too.

Azriel stood at the edge of the festivities, his form cloaked in the shadows that seemed to cling to him like a second skin. He wore no mask either, and his Illyrian leathers had been traded for a simple, elegant black jacket that made him look no less dangerous. His hazel eyes—keen, sharp, and piercing—followed you as you moved through the crowd, his jaw tightening each time another male drew too close.

He had come for answers, but the sight of you, unmasked and radiant, had unraveled something inside him.

Before you could make your way to Eris, Azriel stepped from the shadows and intercepted you, his approach silent but purposeful. His voice was soft but firm as he spoke, “You’re hard to miss tonight.”

You turned, startled at first, but you quickly schooled your expression.

Seeing him without his mask was a shock.

The stories hadn’t done him justice—Azriel was devastatingly handsome, his features sharp and angular, his scarred hands folded behind his back. But his eyes, those hazel eyes flecked with gold, burned with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“Shadowsinger,” you greeted, your tone calm, though your heart raced beneath your ribs.

“Azriel,” he corrected, his gaze never leaving yours. “And you are?”

“No one of importance,” you replied, the familiar words slipping easily from your lips.

Azriel’s mouth twitched, a ghost of a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You said that before. I don’t believe it now any more than I did then.”

You raised a brow, your gaze steady. “And what brings the spymaster of the Night Court to an Autumnal Equinox festival?”

“The same thing that brings you, I imagine,” he replied, his voice low. “Curiosity.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Curiosity about me? Or about the Autumn Court?”

“Both,” he admitted without hesitation.

There was something in his tone—something raw, honest, and entirely unexpected.

It unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

Before you could respond, Azriel gestured to the long tables laden with food. “Would you sit with me? I think we could both use a reprieve from… wandering eyes.”

You hesitated, glancing toward where Eris stood, still speaking with a group of nobles. For a moment, you considered refusing, but something in Azriel’s gaze stopped you.

He was looking at you not like you were a prize to be won, but like you were a puzzle he was determined to solve. And for reasons you couldn’t quite explain, you found yourself nodding.

“Very well,” you said. “Lead the way.”

He guided you to a quieter corner of the courtyard, where the lanterns cast a softer glow. You both filled your plates with roasted meats, golden squash, and warm bread before sitting at a smaller table away from the chaos. The sounds of music and laughter faded slightly, leaving you in a pocket of relative quiet.

Azriel studied you as you ate, his gaze thoughtful but unrelenting. “You’re different tonight.”

“Am I?” you asked, keeping your tone light as you picked at the food on your plate.

“You aren’t hiding,” he said simply. “No mask. No pretense of blending in. You’re…” He hesitated, as if searching for the right word. “…bold.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze. “And what about you? I doubt the Night Court sent you here to enjoy the festivities.”

A shadow of a smile crossed his lips. “Perhaps I came for the food.”

“Liar,” you said softly, but there was no malice in your voice.

He leaned forward slightly, his expression serious. “I came because I couldn’t get you out of my head after the last time I saw you...And because I think you’re hiding something.”

You froze for half a heartbeat before forcing yourself to smile. “Aren’t we all?”

Azriel didn’t look convinced, but before he could press further, a familiar voice broke through the moment.

“Kaela.” Eris’s tone was smooth but edged with subtle irritation. He was standing a few feet away, his amber eyes flicking between you and Azriel with barely concealed disdain. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You rose gracefully, offering Azriel a polite nod before turning to Eris. “I was just… meeting new people.”

Eris smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Come. There’s much more to see.”

As Eris led you away, Azriel watched, his shadows curling tightly around him, restless and frustrated.

You didn’t look back, but you felt his gaze like a brand on your skin. You knew this wasn’t the last time he’d seek you out.

Eris seemed to swell with pride as he took your hand, guiding you through the heart of the Autumn Court’s festivities. The firelight gilded his crimson hair and sharp features, making him look every inch the heir to a throne of flame and power. His grip on your hand was firm, possessive, as though parading you through the crowd was as much about his status as it was about you.

You allowed him to lead, a delicate smile playing on your lips, your demeanor graceful and composed. Inside, you were calculating. Every introduction, every gaze that lingered on you, was a potential piece of the puzzle you were here to solve. Eris introduced you to noble after noble, his voice smooth and charming, but there was always a sharp edge to his tone—a warning to those who looked at you too long or spoke too boldly.

“And this,” Eris said, his hand tightening slightly on yours as he addressed an older male in an autumn-orange cloak, “is Kaela. A guest of the Autumn Court and… my most delightful companion this evening.”

The male’s eyes swept over you, appreciation flickering in their depths. “Delightful indeed,” he said, his voice rich with insinuation. “Tell me, my lady, how is it that the Autumn Court has been graced with such a beauty?”

You smiled politely, keeping your voice light. “It seems your court has a way of drawing people in, my lord.”

The older male chuckled, his gaze lingering on your face. “If only I were a younger man,” he said with a mock sigh. “Perhaps I’d have a chance to steal you away from Eris.”

Eris’s smile was tight, his amber eyes narrowing slightly. “Perhaps,” he said, his tone cold enough to make the noble falter. “But I doubt you’d get very far.”

The exchange was brief but effective, the older male bowing slightly before excusing himself. Eris’s hand remained firmly on yours as he guided you onward, his smirk returning as he leaned closer. “It seems everyone here is desperate for what they can’t have.”

You glanced at him, your tone carefully neutral. “And you enjoy that, don’t you?”

He didn’t deny it. “Why shouldn’t I? Let them look. Let them wish. At the end of the night, they’ll all know you’re with me.”

The words should have unsettled you, but they didn’t.

Eris’s possessiveness was a tool you could use, a shield that kept others from prying too deeply into who you truly were.

Still, you felt the weight of every gaze on you, men and women alike casting bold looks your way, their compliments growing more brazen with each introduction.

“You look like a goddess of autumn herself,” one male said, his voice dripping with admiration. “Surely no mortal could compare.”

“If only I were brave enough to ask for a dance,” said another, his eyes trailing over you shamelessly.

Eris, to his credit, didn’t allow their words to linger. “Bravery wouldn’t save you,” he said coolly, his arm slipping around your waist now, pulling you closer. “Some treasures aren’t meant to be touched.”

The possessive gesture drew murmurs from those around you, whispers that only seemed to inflate Eris’s ego further.

He thrived on the attention, on the envy that radiated from the other nobles.

And though you played along, offering a charming smile or a soft laugh at the right moments, you couldn’t shake the feeling of another gaze, one that burned hotter than all the rest.

Azriel.

You hadn’t seen him since Eris had taken you from his table, but you felt him. Felt the weight of his hazel eyes on you from the shadows, the intensity of his focus like a tangible thing.

It wasn’t just jealousy—you knew that.

It was something deeper, more complex.

He was watching you not as a predator watches prey, but as a hunter studies a puzzle he’s determined to solve.

As you moved through the crowd, you caught glimpses of him at the edges of your vision. Always in the periphery, never too far but never too close. His shadows curled around him like restless vipers, their movements barely restrained.

His expression was unreadable, but the tension in his body, the sharpness of his gaze, told you all you needed to know.

He hated seeing you like this—on Eris’s arm, surrounded by adoring nobles.

Hated the way Eris leaned into you, whispered in your ear as if you were his to command.

And yet, he did nothing.

He stayed hidden, his hands clenched at his sides, his shadows betraying his frustration.

Eris, oblivious to the spymaster’s presence, led you to a quieter corner of the courtyard where another group of nobles gathered. They greeted you warmly, their compliments flowing freely. One particularly bold male, tall and broad-shouldered, leaned close enough to make your skin prickle.

“If Eris ever tires of you,” he said, his voice low and dripping with innuendo, “I’d be more than happy to show you the true charms of the Autumn Court.”

Before you could respond, Eris stepped in, his voice sharp as a blade. “Careful, Halric. Flirting with what’s mine is a dangerous game.”

The other male chuckled, though he stepped back, his hands raised in mock surrender. “Of course, my lord. No harm meant.”

Eris watched him retreat, his hand sliding lower on your back, his lips brushing close to your ear. “They’re fools,” he murmured. “All of them. They see only what’s on the surface.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze with an enigmatic smile. “And what do you see?”

Eris’s eyes flickered with something more—something darker. “I see fire. A fire that can burn everything to ash if it’s not handled carefully.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you hid it well, your expression unreadable as you allowed him to guide you back toward the heart of the festivities. All the while, you felt Azriel’s gaze following your every step, his shadows whispering to him in the darkness.

And though you couldn’t see him, you knew he was there, watching, waiting.

You could only imagine the storm brewing in his mind as you played your part, as you allowed yourself to be paraded like a trophy at Eris’s side.

The celebrations had reached their peak, the golden lights and laughter fading into a blur as Eris finally pulled you away from the crowd. His hand was firm around your wrist as he led you down a quiet hallway, away from the revelry and into a shadowed alcove tucked between towering stone walls. The flicker of distant torches barely reached this secluded corner, casting everything in dim, golden light.

The moment you were alone, Eris turned to you, his amber eyes gleaming with desire and triumph. He didn’t waste time with words, didn’t ask permission. His lips were on yours, hungry and demanding, his hands sliding over your waist, your back, your hips as though he was staking a claim. You didn’t resist, couldn’t—not when playing the part demanded compliance. So you kissed him back, letting your hands rest lightly on his shoulders, your movements calculated to seem eager, even though your heart wasn’t in it.

Eris groaned against your lips, his hands wandering lower. You caught his wrist subtly, guiding him back up without breaking the kiss. He smirked against your mouth, mistaking your restraint for coyness. He pressed closer, the heat of his body seeping into yours, but before he could push further, a voice called his name.

Eris cursed softly under his breath, pulling back with a frustrated sigh. “My father always has the worst timing,” he muttered. He cupped your chin, his thumb brushing over your lower lip as he smiled lazily. “Wait here for me. I won’t be long.”

With that, he left, his footsteps echoing as he disappeared into the distance. You exhaled slowly, your heartbeat steadying as the heat of his presence faded. But before you could compose yourself fully, a shadow moved in the corner of your vision.

Azriel.

He stepped from the darkness like a wraith, his hazel eyes burning with fury, his shadows coiling around him like restless predators. The sight of him in the dim light was enough to steal your breath. His sharp jaw was clenched, his scarred hands at his sides, though tension radiated from every inch of him.

“What game are you playing?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His words cut through the stillness like a blade.

You stiffened, meeting his gaze with as much calm as you could muster. “I’m not playing any games.”

Azriel scoffed, taking a step closer. His presence was overwhelming, his shadows licking at the edges of the alcove like they couldn’t contain themselves. “Don’t lie to me.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to flinch under his scrutiny. “I’m not lying. My name is Kaela, as I told him. And I’m genuinely interested in him.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but you said them anyway, your expression carefully blank. Azriel’s reaction was immediate. His jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as if the very idea disgusted him.

“Interested in Eris?” he repeated, his voice laced with incredulity. “Why would you want anything to do with someone like him? He’s—” He broke off, his wings flaring slightly behind him, as if he couldn’t find words strong enough to describe his disdain. “He’s vile. And you let him put his filthy hands on you.”

You held his gaze, refusing to waver. “What I let him do is none of your concern.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes darkened, the shadows around him swirling faster. Before you could react, he closed the distance between you in a single, fluid motion. His hand shot out, pinning you gently but firmly against the stone wall. His other hand cupped your jaw, tilting your face up to his as his lips crashed against yours.

It wasn’t like Eris’s kiss—calculated and arrogant. This was fire and desperation, a storm breaking after too long held back. Azriel kissed you like a man starved, his mouth devouring yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. A soft moan escaped your lips, and his grip on your jaw tightened slightly in response, his body pressing closer to yours.

Your hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him even closer, and he responded in kind, his kiss deepening, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that sent sparks shooting through your body. Heat pooled in your core, and you felt yourself melting into him despite every logical thought screaming at you to stop.

When he finally pulled away, your lips were swollen, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. Azriel’s eyes bore into yours, his own breathing ragged. His thumb brushed over your cheek as he stared at you like you were the answer to a question he hadn’t even known he was asking.

“Now I know you’re a liar,” he said, his voice rough. “You didn’t kiss him back like that.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but no words came out. He leaned in again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Who are you? The truth this time.”

You swallowed hard, your resolve cracking under the weight of his gaze. But before you could speak, the sound of approaching footsteps broke the moment. Azriel stepped back, his shadows swallowing him as he disappeared into the darkness once more, leaving you alone, shaken and utterly undone.

You barely had time to compose yourself before Eris reappeared. His amber eyes glinted with the light of the torches as he stepped into the alcove, a slow, satisfied smirk curling his lips as he looked at you. He appeared every inch the confident heir to the Autumn Court, but his gaze carried a possessiveness that made your skin prickle.

“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long,” he drawled, stepping closer until the heat of his body was brushing against yours. He cupped your face with one hand, his thumb grazing your cheek as his eyes roamed over you. “Where were we?”

Before you could reply, his lips captured yours again, the kiss hungry and insistent. He pressed you back against the stone wall, his hands wandering over your waist, your hips, and lower still. You stiffened slightly, your hand darting up to catch his wrist, stopping him just as his fingers began to stray too far.

“Eris,” you said softly, your voice calm but firm. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his brows furrowing slightly. You kept your expression neutral, offering him a small, teasing smile to soften the rejection. “Not here.”

He studied you for a moment, clearly debating whether to press the issue. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he stepped back, though his hands lingered on your waist. “You’re maddening, you know that?” he said, his tone a mixture of irritation and amusement.

“Perhaps,” you replied, tilting your head slightly. “But I don’t think you mind.”

His smirk returned, his amber eyes glittering with amusement. “No, I don’t.” He leaned in, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “But you’ll have to make it up to me later.”

You didn’t respond, just smiled faintly as he pulled away. He straightened his jacket, his confidence undiminished, and reached for your hand. “Come on,” he said, his tone lighter now. “I’ve been gone too long already. Let’s not give the vultures anything to gossip about.”

He didn’t wait for your response, simply laced his fingers with yours and led you back toward the heart of the festivities. His grip was firm but not harsh, his stride confident as though parading you through the crowd was a display of his power.

When you re-entered the courtyard, the music and laughter enveloped you once more. The crowd had thickened, and the firelight cast a warm glow over the dancers swirling in the center of the space. Eris held your hand tightly as he wove through the crowd, pausing every so often to speak with a noble or exchange pleasantries. Each time, his arm would slide around your waist, pulling you close as if to remind everyone watching that you were his for the evening.

The attention was as suffocating as it was useful. Nobles cast envious glances your way, their eyes filled with curiosity, admiration, or outright jealousy. Compliments were thrown your way with little subtlety, each one bolder than the last.

“You’ve outdone yourself, Eris,” one male said, his tone dripping with envy as his eyes roved over you. “I didn’t know the Autumn Court could attract such… radiance.”

Eris’s smile was sharp, his arm tightening around you. “Some treasures find their way to the right hands,” he said smoothly, his gaze daring anyone to challenge him.

You played your part perfectly, offering polite smiles and soft laughter, but you felt the weight of another gaze on you—one that burned hotter than all the rest.

Azriel was still watching.

From the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, he stood like a sentinel, his wings folded tightly against his back, his hazel eyes following your every move. He was a master of stealth, but you knew where to look now, could feel the intensity of his focus even when you didn’t meet his gaze.

His presence was a storm brewing on the horizon, and each step you took with Eris felt like walking closer to its center.

Eris, oblivious to the spymaster’s watchful gaze, led you toward the center of the festivities, where the music swelled and the dancing was at its most fervent. He turned to you, his hand still on your waist, and offered a slight bow. “Dance with me.”

You hesitated, but only for a moment. Refusing would raise questions, and so you placed your hand in his and allowed him to guide you onto the dance floor. The music was lively, the rhythm fast and playful, and Eris was a skilled partner. He spun you with ease, his movements graceful and commanding, his smirk growing with every admiring glance cast your way.

But no matter how charming Eris was, no matter how well you played your role, your mind was elsewhere.

You could feel Azriel’s gaze on you even now, searing into you from across the courtyard. Every step, every twirl, felt like a challenge—a test to see how far you could push the illusion without breaking.

When the song ended, Eris pulled you close, his lips brushing your temple. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only you could hear. “Every single one of them envies me tonight.”

You didn’t respond, simply offered him a small smile as the next song began. But as he led you into another dance, your thoughts drifted to the shadows, to the figure watching you with a gaze that felt more intimate, more piercing, than any touch Eris could muster.

The festivities were finally winding down, the golden light of the torches dimming as the Autumn Court’s revelers began to thin. The music had slowed to soft, wistful melodies, and the air carried the scent of burnt leaves and smoldering embers. Eris stood at your side, speaking with a small group of nobles, his arm draped loosely over your waist as though to remind everyone of your place. His laugh was sharp, cutting through the night like a blade, but his attention wavered when a steward approached, murmuring something low in his ear.

Eris sighed dramatically, his hand brushing over your hip as he leaned in. “It seems I’m needed again. Don’t stray too far—I won’t be long.” His amber eyes gleamed with promise before he turned and disappeared into the shadows with the steward, leaving you standing alone at the edge of the courtyard.

You exhaled slowly, the weight of your role settling heavily on your shoulders now that his presence had lifted. For a moment, you considered retreating to a quieter corner to compose yourself, but before you could take a single step, a familiar figure emerged from the darkness.

Azriel.

His approach was silent as ever, but his presence filled the space like a storm rolling in. His hazel eyes were sharp, cutting through the autumn haze as they locked onto yours, and the faint flicker of his shadows around his shoulders made him seem even more menacing.

“You’re alone,” he said, his voice low but carrying an edge that sent a shiver down your spine.

You straightened, meeting his gaze with as much calm as you could muster. “Not for long. Eris will return soon.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened at the mention of Eris, his wings shifting slightly behind him as though the name itself irritated him. He stepped closer, his movements deliberate and controlled, and you instinctively took a step back, your shoulders brushing against the rough stone of the wall behind you.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his tone sharper now. “And don’t give me the same rehearsed lie you told Eris.”

You lifted your chin, refusing to let his intensity intimidate you. “It’s not a lie. I told you the truth—I’m Kaela, from a lesser court with ties to the Summer Court. Tarquin encouraged me to attend these festivities to build connections.”

Azriel scoffed, his expression darkening. “Do you think I’m a fool? That I’d believe you’re here for some… socialite mission? With him?” He stepped closer still, his body radiating heat and tension. “You expect me to believe you’d associate yourself with Eris Vanserra for connections?”

“Why does it matter to you?” you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended. “What I do and who I do it with are none of your concern.”

“It matters because you’re lying,” Azriel growled, his hands suddenly gripping your arms as he pulled you close, his face mere inches from yours. His scent—night-chilled mist and cedar—filled your senses, making it harder to focus. “You’re not who you say you are. I see it in your eyes, in the way you carry yourself. You’re hiding something, and I want to know what it is.”

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your breathing as his piercing gaze pinned you in place. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“Then tell me,” he said, his voice dropping lower, more dangerous. “Tell me who you really are, and why you’re letting that vile male touch you.”

You hesitated, the weight of your mission warring with the intensity of his presence. But you couldn’t let the facade crack—not now, not after all you’d worked to build. “I told you who I am,” you said, your voice quieter now but still firm. “And as for Eris… perhaps I see something in him that you don’t.”

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, his grip tightening slightly, though not enough to hurt. “You can’t seriously mean that. Eris is a snake. A power-hungry coward who’d sell his own court for a sliver of advantage. And you—” his voice faltered, a flicker of something raw flashing in his eyes, “—you’re too clever to fall for him.”

You exhaled shakily, your heart pounding in your chest. “And what do you think you know about me, Azriel? You’ve seen me at a ball and a festival. That’s hardly enough to claim you know anything.”

“I know enough,” he said, his voice low and rough, the tension in his body palpable. “Enough to see you’re not who you say you are. Enough to see that you didn’t kiss Eris like you kissed me. You say you are interested in him but your body says otherwise.”

Your breath hitched, and his gaze dropped briefly to your lips before snapping back up to your eyes. He leaned closer, his voice a whisper now, but no less commanding. “So tell me, who are you?”

You stared at him, your mind racing. His proximity, the heat of his body against yours, the way his shadows curled restlessly around you—it was too much. Your carefully crafted persona felt like it was slipping, but you held onto it with everything you had.

“I’m exactly who I told you I am,” you said softly, forcing the words out even as your chest tightened. “And you have no right to demand otherwise.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his frustration evident as he released your arms and took a step back. His shadows writhed around him, their whispers like faint echoes of his turbulent thoughts. “You’re lying,” he said again, his tone quieter but no less certain. “And I’ll find out why.”

With that, he turned, disappearing into the darkness as swiftly as he’d arrived, leaving you standing there, shaken and breathless. You pressed a hand to the wall to steady yourself, your thoughts spinning.

You’d held your ground, but Azriel was relentless, and deep down, you knew this wouldn’t be the last time he’d confront you.

Chapter 3

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel fic

67 notes · View notes