#the rose x yn

[azrielsrealmate]

alcohol and pancakes

azriel x reader

summary: azriel was always devoted to you, but when drunk? He was clingy, touchy and devoted. And he wanted to take care of you even if his mind was spinning.

warnings: mentions of alcohol?

word count: 1.3k

this is a silly little thing because I’ve just read somewhere that Azriel gets clingy when drunk and oh my god that’s sooo cute 😭

Your touch on his cheek was like a soothing balm for a wound that throbbed and stung, with each languid and incredibly soft stroke easing the pain more and more. He let go, leaning into your touch.

Why did he always have to be the tough and unbreakable guy? He wasn’t that tough, nor unbreakable, he was just... himself. And your gentle caresses made him want to whimper. His honeyed eyes closed with a hum of satisfaction, and you laughed softly. Why was even your laugh soft? Azriel didn’t understand. Azriel didn’t want to understand.

“How much have you had to drink?” you asked, arching both eyebrows in pure tenderness.

It took Azriel several seconds to process the question, in reality, he had drunk quite a bit. But that didn’t diminish any of the things he wanted to do with you, which at the moment was nothing more than resting his face between your generous breasts. He nuzzled your palm, breathing in and pressing a soft kiss.

“Not too much.”

Liar. Lies. A shadow whispered in his ear, and Azriel nearly growled, brushing it aside and nuzzling your hand further.

“Ah, I see,” you murmured, entertained by the sight—a warrior nearly two meters tall, and a spy no less, clinging to you like a needy child craving affection. Your voice was drenched in amusement, dripping over him just enough to make him open his eyes slightly.

“I’m not that drunk.” He almost whined, his eyebrows furrowing, and you had to stifle another giggle. Not wanting to offend the oh-so-scary shadowsinger that was hovering over your body, laid across your marriage bed.

“I’m not that drunk,” Azriel repeated, this time with a firmer, almost defiant tone, though it wasn’t as firm or defiant as he intended, because you could see the tremor at the corner of his lip, trying not to smile like a fool upon seeing your own smile. He reminded you more of Nyx trying to convince you that he wasn’t sleepy at bedtime just to spend more time with you, than of the five-hundred-year-old spy that he was.

His eyes, usually as inscrutable as the night sky, were now clouded by a mixture of alcohol and a tenderness he rarely allowed himself to show—a vulnerability that made you stroke his cheek once more.

“Azriel…” you whispered with a gentleness that only softened the normally sharp edges of his face further. You could see the freckles scattered across his nose, small and nearly invisible, like tiny constellations marking his skin. And the slight green ring in the center of his eyes, and a few strands of hair longer than the others.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of you,” he said, burying his face in the crook of your neck, this time sounding more resolute, acceptably more resolute, as he breathed in your scent like it was a balm he desperately needed. The way his body, so big and strong, curled up against yours was a delightful paradox you couldn’t help but enjoy. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer. You felt the weight of his head on your shoulder, the brush of his dark hair against your cheek. “I can take care of you... always.”

A soft laugh, impossible to contain, escaped your lips. The irony of his words filled your chest with a playful warmth. “Really?” you teased, your hands caressing his back with the same slow indulgence of someone petting a spoiled kitten. Carefully avoiding his wings, so as not to turn clingy-drunk Azriel into horny-clingy-drunk Azriel. “Then, if you’re so capable, why don’t you go down to the kitchen and make me some dinner?” You were pretty sure he would wobble if he got up.

Azriel lifted his head, his eyes gleaming with a determined light that almost made you regret your words. He could make you dinner—no, he should make it for you. You were his mate, and he had lost count of how many nights he had come home dazed with exhaustion only to find a warm dinner and loving arms.

Before you could react, he got up from the bed with the agility of a feline, the weight of his determination palpable in the air, your thoughts incredibly wrong; he didn’t wobble even once.

“Azriel, no—” you began, reaching for his arm as he headed toward the door. “It was a joke, I’ve already eaten, please don’t try to make me dinner when you’re in this state…”

He didn’t listen, or decided not to, moving through the room with that lethal grace so natural to him. You were forced to follow him as he made his way down the hallway and then down the stairs to the kitchen.

When you reached the kitchen, you made sure to turn on the lights because Azriel hadn’t bothered, given that he was already opening the cabinets, inspecting their contents with an intensity that almost made you worry.

“I’ll make you pancakes,” he announced, and you laughed, so much that your cheeks turned red.

“Pancakes?” you approached him, placing a hand on his arm in an attempt to stop him. “Az, that’s not dinner.”

“It will be,” he said, determined, and his stubbornness brought another smile to your face. There was no stopping him now, so you resigned yourself to helping him.

He continued to inspect the cabinet contents, searching for something that he didn’t even have in mind. You couldn’t help but let out a giggle—he was so determined that he didn’t even seem lost.

“How about you start by getting the flour?” Azriel’s eyes lit up as if he finally remembered something. He grabbed the bag of flour. Then he looked back at the other contents in the cabinet, and you wanted to laugh again.

“The eggs and then the milk.” As he pulled out the ingredients with hands that were skilled but slightly shaky, you stayed close. He observed everything he had taken out, all placed on the counter, and then directed those hazel, clouded eyes at you, tentatively, in a silent question.

“That’s all we need.”

“Ah… I knew that.” He said as if trying to convince you of something.

“Of course you did, I wouldn’t doubt that my clever shadowsinger knew.” You were teasing him, but he didn’t even notice. Though you did notice the red that brushed his cheeks.

You handed him the bowl and the ingredients, watching with amusement as he measured and poured, his brow furrowed in concentration. His hands, which usually wielded weapons with deadly skill, now worked with adorable clumsiness to mix the ingredients. As he stirred, fearing that Azriel might spill too much of the mixture out of the bowl, you moved closer to help him, your hands gently falling over his, trying to guide him. Azriel froze for a second, and you knew almost instinctively that he was looking at the scars covering his hands, so different from the softness of yours. You offered him a warm smile, quickly making him forget about it.

The warmth of the kitchen was comforting, but not as much as the warmth radiating from his body next to yours. That warrior who could bring down armies was now focused on making pancake batter with the same seriousness he would approach any crucial task. And though pancakes weren’t a conventional dinner, you knew that the dedication he was putting into them made them more special than any banquet.

“Is this good?” he murmured, turning his face toward you, and for a moment, his honeyed eyes met yours.

“Perfect,” you replied softly, allowing yourself a small moment of respite in his closeness, enjoying the tenderness hidden behind that façade of hardness.

Azriel nodded, satisfied, before turning toward the pan that was already starting to heat. And as he poured the mixture, you couldn’t help but admire him, so determined and so devoted. All for you. All yours.

[thehighladywrites]

— “You were flirting with me?”

pairing: Azriel x fem!reader

summary: You leave Azriel mid-makeout to debrief with your girls

warnings: suggestiveness, the ic being nosey, miscommunication, rhys and cassian knowingly riling az up, the girls get drunk and interrogate reader, the boys get drunk and interrogate az,

amara’s note: this might be the funniest thing i’ve ever written. also sorry for my absence i’m posting more soon💗💗

You’ve had a massive crush on Azriel since the day you met him. He didn’t really notice you and was somewhat nice to you.

Really, you had no idea how you started crushing on him, I mean he paid you no special attention or anything. Maybe it was because he was quiet, handsome, tall, dark, mysterious and only spoke when it was necessary. He also cracked jokes and flashed grins that made your heart flutter. The Mother knows how much it grated your nerves whenever a male tried to hit or talk to you when you clearly had no desire to.

Azriel was the complete opposite and you started worrying that you were the one who grated on his nerves everytime you tried speaking to him.

“Hi Azriel, how are you doing?” you noticed him sitting at the dining table, collected yourself and asked him.

“Good,” he said staring straight into your soul before he realized his answer wasn’t really socially appropriate so asked you, “How are you?”

You just smiled awkwardly and nodded, “I’m fine, thanks.”

And that was how 90% of your conversations went. There was no further comments or extra questions and fuck if it wasn’t awkward. You really wanted to get to know him but you also knew how impossible it was since even the people he had been friends with for half a millennium often considered him a mystery.

Sensing the weird energy in the room, you just swiftly said goodbye, not bothering to stay to hear his goodbye.

He wanted to ask if you maybe wanted to do something, perhaps eat brunch at the restaurant you talked about to Cassian but you were moving before he had the chance. Azriel got extremely annoyed with himself, wondering why the hell he couldn’t ask you out like a normal person.

With determination, he promised himself to try the next time.

—

The girls all knew about your very obvious crush on Azriel and encouraged you to approach him often. They were all mated and happy and you wish it was you, you that had a mate, you who got loved and kissed and hugged and fucked.

But you just had to be obsessed with a man that paid you no attention… Maybe that’s why you wanted him, you viewed him as a challenge, and you loved challenges. Despite wanting his attention and wanting to get to know him, you still had self-respect and didn’t act like a pathetic, desperate, love-sick puppy infront of him.

So you went from always greeting him and smiling at him, trying to initiate conversations to flat out ignoring him. I mean, he never talked to you first so maybe it was time to accept it and just admire him from afar.

—

Azriel began to sense a dullness in his days, a void he couldn't really pinpoint. He realized he hadn’t talked to you, or rather, you hadn't talked to him while he played it cool, trying not to make his beating heart obvious. He noticed the absence of your chatter, questions and lovely voice, realizing that his days grew more mundane and boring without someone asking about his shadows, what his plans were, where he got Truth-Teller.

Azriel observed during dinner that you didn't glance at him once; your attention was solely on the girls or his brothers. You chose to stand up, walk across the dining room and grab the bowl of potatoes beside him instead of asking him for it, and it really irked him. Was he not worthy of passing a simple bowl of fucking potatoes?

He wondered if he had done something to make you avoid talking to him. Despite not being the most talkative person, he paid very close attention to everything you said, even if it seemed unnoticed. Azriel loved your presence and he thought he made his interest in you very clear when he looked at you.

Cassian had said girls like eye contact, still everytime he stared into your soul, you only looked weirded out. Was he doing it wrong? Maybe he wasn’t keeping eye contact long enough.

He had grown extremely fond of your talking and felt empty without it. Finding you alone in the kitchen while you prepared a quick breakfast, Azriel decided it was time to talk. The others had already headed to the training grounds as you had slept in. You were cooking your breakfast, not noticing Azriel.

“Hey.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, frozen in place as you slowly looked up at him. Was he really talking to you? But why?

“Yeah?”

He stayed quiet for a bit, just staring at you in that weird way he always did. Even though he wasn't sure if you liked him back and was afraid of rejection, he still wanted to talk to you.

“How have you been?”

You fight the urge to furrow your brows in confusion. Since when the hell did Azriel care? You were truly baffled and tried to act normal.

“Uh, I’ve been good, you?”

Azriel didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Usually, you'd spontaneously share every detail of your morning routine, even without him asking. He fucking loved to listen as you talked about your broken hairbrush, the struggle of choosing clothes, the snug fit of your leathers due to gained muscles, and the morning hassle with your hair, prompting you to wake up 20 minutes earlier than usual.

“I’m okay. Have you done anything else today? How is your hairbrush?”

A stupid question really, but Azriel didn’t care. He wanted to see that familiar spark in your eyes as you talked about anything and everything. No way would he ever forgive himself if he ruined something between you.

Your face heated at the fact that he remembered such a minuscule detail about something you said weeks ago.

”Oh, the hairbrush? It broke so I got an enchanted one. Heard it's like a hair miracle, tried it, and it really worked. By the way, your hair looks good. Did you cut it lately?”

Azriel couldn't help but warm up at your rambling. His eyes widened at first, and then he threw his head back and laughed. The deep, rich sound was familiar, yet it never failed to feel like the first time. It was a beautiful and joyful melody that always managed to make you melt on the inside.

"I really missed you," he admitted, feeling your heart pound in your chest, unable to meet his gaze.

"You did?" Azriel's soft smile warmed your heart, the one you'd nearly missed.

"I did. I enjoy being around you and hearing your voice," he confessed.

"Oh, I always thought you didn’t." You couldn't help but feel a mix of surprise and relief.

Stepping closer, Azriel's presence loomed over you, his hand gently lifting your chin.

“Please, don’t misunderstand me. I’m sorry that my silence ever gave you that impression. I thought I was making my interest clear, to be honest,” he murmured, sincerity gleaming in his hazel eyes.

“Okay, I promise I won’t misunderstand again. But why did you think you made yourself clear?” you whispered, feeling a rush of energy as you locked eyes with him.

“Because I made a point of holding prolonged eye contact, thinking it was a clear signal of my interest,” he explained matter-of-factly.

You couldn't help but raise your eyebrows, suppressing a laugh. “So, all those times you were staring at me, you were actually flirting?”

Azriel's expression softened, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. “Well, yes. I thought you knew.”

Suppressing a giggle, you bit your lip and glanced away, not wanting to offend him.

“Ah, not exactly crystal clear, but I understand now. Let’s go for a walk and chat some more,” you suggested, linking your arm through his.

"Sounds perfect. Now, tell me about those new leathers you got," he said, his playful demeanor easing the tension, steering the conversation towards lighter topics.

—

Over the next few months, the bond between you and Azriel deepened. He trusted you with secrets of his life that remained hidden from everyone else. These private conversations became the pillars of your connection, sweet moments for you only.

As the months went by, an unspoken desire for more lingered between you and Azriel. Yet, despite the magnetic pull, something kept you from going the final step.

You've had countless close moments where you almost kissed, where just a tip-toe closer would have sealed the deal. But it never happened. So close, yet so frustratingly far away.

—

Mor's question disrupted the laughter and gossiping of the girls' night, the clinking of wine glasses punctuating the anticipation in the air.

"Remind me again why you and Azriel aren’t a couple?”

Mor's curiosity hung palpably, shifting the mood from gossiping to an interrogation.

“Well, it’s kinda complicated,” you replied, swirling the wine in your glass as you gathered your thoughts.

“We have a great connection, but there's this unspoken understanding between us. It’s like there's a boundary we're afraid to cross.”

Amren raised an eyebrow, her sharp eyes observing you closely. “Unspoken understanding? Fancy fucking excuse”

Elain giggled and nodded in agreement.

You chuckled, “Maybe it is, but it’s like we're both tiptoeing around something, afraid to ruin what we have. I mean, do I want to be with him? Yeah, I do. But we might fuck something up and I think we have too good of a relationship to throw it all away.”

Nesta leaned back with a smirk, “Sounds like a case of unresolved sexual tension. Maybe the only cure would be to finally get a good dicking.”

You shot her a look, “You make it sound like a medical condition. Also that has got to be some plot from your smutty books.”

Feyre chimed in, “Maybe it is. Maybe it's time you took a bold step to see what happens. Who knows, it might get you laid.”

The group erupted into laughter, but underneath it, you couldn’t ignore the truth in their words. You liked him, there was no denying it. But did he like you as much?

—

“Is she dating anyone?” Rhysand’s casual question caught Azriel off guard as he browsed his big wine selections with Cassian while the girls where out of the house.

Azriel feigned ignorance. “Who?”

Rhysand and Cassian exchanged a knowing look. “Y/N. Is she dating anyone?”

Something about the question irked Azriel. “Why the hell do you care?”

Rhysand shrugged nonchalantly. “Just curious. I might set her up with someone.”

Azriel's jaw clenched as he fought to mask his frustration. Rhysand's casual tone grated on his nerves, igniting a simmering jealousy he hadn't realized he harbored. Suppressing a sigh, he forced himself to respond evenly,

“She's a grown female, Rhys. She doesn't need you playing matchmaker for her.”

Cassian chuckled, sensing the tension in the air. “Easy, Az. No need to get defensive. I think little Y/N might want a lover of her own, no?”

Azriel's gaze hardened, a flicker of annoyance flashing in his eyes. “I'm not being defensive. I just don't appreciate your implication. And no, she doesn’t need some lover.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk bordering on mischief. “Interesting. And why is that?”

Before Azriel could formulate a response, you had returned with the girls, your laughter echoing through the room, shifting the focus away from the questions. Azriel sighed, silently cursing Rhysand's annoying questions and the unresolved feelings stirring within him.

—

You turned off the tap and brought the glass of water to your mouth, much needed after the amounts of wine you and the girls had downed. It was honestly a miracle Mor had the energy to winnow you to the house of wind.

As the girls walked to the library for more drinking, you snuck into the kitchen for some water.

You put down the tall glass of water, swallowing the refreshing and cool drink before your body tingle.

Your stomach flipped, blood heating as your skin broke out in goosebumps.

His presence was undeniable.

Azriel was here.

Turning around to leave the sink, you saw him standing there behind the island, looking at you with a soft look that made your stomach flutter and cheeks heat.

"Hi," Azriel greeted softly as you approached him.

"Hi, Az." you replied, feeling a surge of warmth at the sight of him.

"Did you have fun with the girls?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Yeah, I did," you answered with a smile as you looked down.

Azriel's lips twitched, and he gently lifted your chin with his pointer and thumb. He looked down at your midnight blue dress and raised his brows

"You look absolutely breathtaking."

Your heart beat faster and faster and you were damn sure your friends upstairs could hear how hard it drummed against your chest.

You leaned into his touch, the move careful and intentional. Azriel’s thumb rubbed against your jaw, your eyes glistening in awe at his handsome self.

”Thank you. It’s nothing special, I just like the color.”

Azriel's gaze softened, his eyes lingering on yours with a tenderness that made your knees weak. "It's not just the color," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "It's you. You’re beautiful."

A blush crept up your cheeks at his words, and you bit your lip nervously, unsure how to respond to such sincerity. But damn, he looked good, and the alcohol in your system made you feel bold enough to speak your mind.

"You look really good," you said, your voice a little breathless. "This shirt suits you."

Stepping closer, you let your hand rest on his sturdy chest, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, the tension between you palpable. Slowly, your hand traveled down to the planes of his stomach, each movement filled with anticipation.

As you looked up at him with a mischievous smile, you played with his belt, the air crackling with the electric energy of the moment. His reaction was immediate, his gaze flickering with desire as the tension between you reached its peak.

Azriel clenched his jaw, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your breaths mingled. The sudden proximity caught you off guard, making you gasp softly.

"Careful," he murmured, his voice low and tinged with desire. "Let's not do things we can't handle."

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver running down your spine as his proximity sent electric sparks coursing through you. “That sounds like a challenge, Azriel,” you taunted, your voice barely a whisper.

Azriel’s smirk widened, his gaze burning with intensity. “Consider it an invitation.”

You looked at each other, breathing shallowly. Azriel’s intense gaze softened gradually as his eyes traveled further down to your lips. He swallowed, pupils wide with lust.

"May I-"

"Yes."

It was a tender, sweet kiss that caught you off guard in the best way possible. You didn't expect him to be so gentle, but you welcomed it wholeheartedly.

His touch was tender yet reassuring. One hand cradled the back of your head, while the other wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him.

You melted into his embrace, savoring every moment of closeness. Your hands found their way to his neck, clinging to him as if you never wanted to let go.

Azriel’s shadows swirled around you lazily, one trailing up your calf and causing you to twitch in surprise. Pulling back, you were met with his clouded, lustful eyes. A mixture of concern and confusion cleared up his hazy gaze.

Suddenly, the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Here you were, in the kitchen, making out with Azriel—the very male you'd had a crush on for what felt like an eternity. Panic surged through you, and you took a step back, needing a moment to collect yourself.

“Are you okay?”

“Mhm, I’m fine, just give me one second,” you managed to stammer out before turning on your heel and practically stumbling out of the kitchen.

With your heart racing and your mind in a whirlwind, you burst into the library where the girls were lounging, each with a glass of wine in hand. Feyre perked up at your arrival, offering a lazy smile.

“There you are, was wondering where you went,” she mused, clearly already feeling the effects of the alcohol.

Without thought, you blurted out the bombshell news. “Guys, Azriel and I kissed.”

The revelation seemed to sober up the entire room, and suddenly, you were bombarded with questions and reactions from your friends.

“Oh my gods, finally,” Mor exclaimed, practically jumping in her seat

“Is he a good kisser? Was it rough or soft? How did he hold you?” Nesta fired off questions, her curiosity piqued.

”All of you owe me 10 cold coins each. I’m always right,” Feyre slumped back in her seat, sipping the wine as she nodded happily.

“I knew you were up to something while we were in here,” Amren chimed in with a knowing smirk.

You grinned widely as you shared all the details with the girls, who were just as excited as you were. They leaned in, eager to hear every bit of the story.

As the questions swirled around you, Elain’s confused expression brought the conversation to a halt.

“Wait, why are you here? Aren’t you supposed to be kissing right now?” she asked, her brow furrowing in confusion.

You froze, the weight of her words sinking in. “Well, yes, we were just... making out, and I had to come here. I panicked.”

In response, your friends practically shoved you back outside, Nesta taking the lead. “And don’t you dare come back until your legs are shaking and you have a big smile on your face,” she declared with a mischievous grin.

You took a deep breath, suppressing your smile as you made your way back to the kitchen. Azriel stood there, leaning against the kitchen island with his feet crossed and arms over his chest.

“Are you sure you’re okay? We don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable,” he said, his voice laced with concern.

You softened at his words, stepping closer and wrapping your arms around his neck. Pulling him down slightly, you gave him a loud kiss that ended with an audible "mwah."

"I really couldn't be more comfortable. I love you, Az. Like a whole lot," you confessed, your voice filled with sincerity and affection.

Azriel's eyes softened at your words, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle and tender.

"I love you too," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I can put into words."

You felt a rush of warmth flood through you at his admission, your heart fluttering with happiness. Without another word, you leaned in and kissed him again, the feeling of his lips against yours sending shivers down your spine.

Azriel grabbed your hips and slowly backed you into the kitchen island. You yelped when he picked you up and put you on the counter, deeping the kiss.

“Let me take you on a date. I want to do this properly,” he whispers breathlessly between kisses as he tucks your hair behind your ear.

You put your hands on his chest lovingly as you nod, smiling up at him. “I’d love that.”

—

extra scene where rhys and cassian visit azriel in the kitchen:

Azriel stood frozen as you left, his mind going into overdrive, worrying if he had done something wrong. Just as he was about to follow you, Rhys and Cassian popped their heads into the kitchen.

"Yo. Where did she go?" Cassian asked, scanning the empty kitchen.

Azriel furrowed his brows at the pair, or rather their heads.

"What the fuck are you doing here? Go before she comes back," he urged, shooing them away with his hand.

Rhys leaned against the kitchen island, a satisfied grin on his face. "It's about damn time."

Cassian nodded in agreement. "Fuck yeah, took him long enough. But hey, better late than never."

Azriel frowned, feeling the weight of their words. "You guys make it sound like it was some kind of mission."

Rhys chuckled. "In a way, it was. And you finally completed it."

Azriel sighed, "Stop talking like that, you sound fucking ancient.”

Cassian smirked at him, arms over his chest as he said “Y’all kissed?”

Azriel's cheeks flushed slightly at Cassian's question, but he maintained his composure. "Yeah, we did."

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. "And?"

Azriel shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. "And it was... nice."

Cassian laughed, clapping Azriel on the back. "Nice? Come on, tongue?”

"Yeah, tongue,” he said trying and failing to suppress a smile.

Rhys raised an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes. “I knew it, you little freak. What else?”

Azriel's expression turned guarded. “Okay, that's all you dickheads need to know. Now, get the fuck out before she comes back.”

Rhysand’s eyebrows shot up, a finger wagging in Azriel’s face. “You better not fuck in my kitchen, I swear to the Mother, I’ll make you both scrub every inch.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and ushered them out, leaning against the kitchen island, waiting for you.

[tadpolesonalgae]

Bloodlust.[*]

Azriel x reader

a/n: thank you, anon <3, I had a lot of fun writing this 😌

warnings: smut, spitting, hate-sex, slight power imbalance?

word count: 4,170

——————————————————————————————————————————————

“Where’s your report?”

“I thought you were doing it.”

The look Azriel gives you is filled with enough ire to have a hint of satisfaction sparking in your chest, the hollow beneath his dark brows deepening as his classical features twist into an expression of silent hatred.

“You have thirty minutes to get it written up and on my desk,” he says shortly, words icy and clipped in the exact way that has irritation scratching at the back of your mind. “That’s completely unreasonable,” you reply bluntly. “Besides,” you say, holding his dark gaze, “I thought you were my superior. I was just there to offer assistance, so there’s no need for me to submit a formal report.”

“My desk. Half an hour,” he repeats coldly, his tone blunt and unforgiving. “Not a minute later.”

Then he turns, closing the door with enough force it creates a distinct hissing noise on the way shut, leaving you to struggle with the deadline.

————

Twenty-nine minutes later you deliver three forceful knocks to his door, blood hot as it boils in your veins, report still stuck to your clipboard which is in turn tucked beneath your arm.

“Enter,” he calls, and a muscle in your jaw ticks at the tone. Curt and demanding. Still, you step inside, allowing the door to click shut, dropping the clipboard on his desk on top of a file he was writing in, hopefully smudging the ink as the board clatters upon the surface. “Good enough?” You nearly spit, but manage to tone down the venom just enough.

Thunder claps from outside as your eyes meet, and he picks the report up, leaning back in his chair as he begins to read through the hurried scrawl. You bite down a snappy remark, hands clasped behind your back in proper fashion as you’re forced to wait for him to complete his review. You get the distinct impression he’s taking his time.

His dark eyes pause a third of the way down the page, brows narrowing before dragging his gaze to yours. “The disposal was rushed and excessively violent. Diplomacy would have been preferable, and much more suitable?” He reads aloud, voice rough and gravelly with barely restrained ire.

“You asked for my report,” you counter lowly, unable to help the disagreeable twist of your features as you glare at him. “Diplomacy did not guarantee the mission’s success. It would have been a waste of time,” he replies.

“That’s just like you to rush into violence,” you hiss, nails digging into the skin of your wrist with the amount of restraint you’re using to keep from doing something you’ll regret. “You resort to slaughter at the slightest inconvenience,” you seethe, nails piercing the skin. “Fucking Illyrian,” you spit.

Ire blazes behind his eyes, reflecting the hatred burning in your own gaze.

Not breaking eye-contact, he reaches for a blank sheet of paper and places it before him on the desk, jabbing his finger once down atop the page. “Rewrite it. Now.”

A startled laugh barks from your throat as you stare at him in disbelief. “You can’t be serious.”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

You stare at him longer, furious indignation boiling your blood, able to feel as your temper begins to bubble over with blatant provocation. “You’re a spiteful piece of shit,” you seethe lowly but he doesn’t buckle beneath your rage. You wouldn’t hate him as much as you do if you could so easily get the better of him. “You just want me to write a report in your favour. You can’t stand that you might have made the wrong call.”

“It was the right call,” he replies harshly, a hiss in his voice, “your lack of experience is limiting your understanding. I knew you weren’t fit for this mission—I’ll have you moved to a more suitable position.”

“You’re the one in the wrong position,” you spit, stalking forward so you’re right before his desk. “You’re too prone to excessive violence. You needlessly took a life that could have been saved. It would have been of no consequence to us if he lived.”

“His existence would have only perpetuated the problem,” Azriel repeats lowly, his own temper beginning to show as he stands from his desk, palms flattening across its surface as he leans forward. “Purge from the roots, or it will only return. Now write the report.”

Gritting your teeth any tighter would have surely caused one to crack beneath the pressure, and you can perfectly imagine how it would feel to launch yourself across the desk and wrap your hands around his throat. To squeeze until he’s thrashing beneath you, that indomitable figure writhing beneath you as you begin to pry the life from his body…to set him alight and watch him scream.

You ease out a breath, soothed by the surprisingly violent imagery. You aren’t one to generally resort to that kind of solution, but with him it seems almost irresistible…the call of violence, how good it would feel to watch blood bead on his skin.

Frustration slightly abated, you drag the paper from beneath his hold. “Give me the clipboard.”

“You’ll complete it here, where I can see you,” he replies icily.

“Fine. Give me the clipboard,” you bite out, rage already rising again.

“You don’t need it. You’ll write it here,” he says, gesturing to the desk.

A tinge of red creeps into your vision, and it takes all your discipline not to reach for the blades tucked beneath your clothes. Stiff with rage, you drag the paper to the side of his desk, walking around to his side as you take a pen from the pot, making a point of reaching through his personal space. Then, as you’re retracting, you decide you’ve had enough of restraining yourself. “Illyrian scum,” you hiss out, gaze piercing into him as your hand tightens around the pen, clutching it as though it were a blade.

His pupils narrow into slits and his fingers crush at the soft skin of your throat. Your entire body contracts beneath the brutal touch, the tip of steel already poised to slice into leather and cut through his blackened heart. Stalemate.

“You’re a fucking piece of work,” he snarls out gutturally, expression twisted into picturesque wrath, ignoring the stinging pain as you slide the blade deeper, sharp enough to pierce the leather with ease, poised to cut into flesh. He seems to remember himself, hold lightening only marginally…enough you have to pull back on the blade or else he’ll be justified in his hostility.

“Infighting is forbidden,” you manage to get out, making sure to keep the steel close enough to his flesh he knows you won’t hesitate anymore. “You broke a rule, Spymaster.”

“And what will you do?” He asks, cruel mirth glittering in his dark hazel eyes. “Will you try for diplomacy now?” He hisses, squeezing the sides of your throat painfully.

“Why would I bother with a brute?” You rasp back, neither of you bothering to conceal the venom in your voices. “Clear aggression is the only language you’ll understand, so I’ll just have to act in a way that’ll get through that thick skull of yours.”

“Brandishing a weapon against me is enough to have you permanently removed from your position,” he hisses down at you.

“Fine,” you breathe, coming to the same conclusion as he has for the expulsion of rage that’s been building up inside of you. “Hand-to-hand combat it is.”

His hand releases your throat at the same time the blade falls from your fingertips, his grip sliding to the nape of your neck as your arms snake over his shoulders, nails raking through his hair as you’re magnetically snatched against one another, hardly a breath of air to be found between your bodies as you’re crushed against one another. Teeth flash as canines scrape, but his fingers dig into the tendon at your neck, forcing you to seize as he pries you apart with his tongue and mouth. Your lip curls in a snarl as he pushes into you, able to see how his wings have instinctively flared at his back, shadows writhing and deepening with unsuppressed fury.

Without giving him a chance to defend your arms surge further down his back, nails brandished as they scratch across the intimate skin of his wings, slicing the leathery surface jaggedly. He recoils, a vicious snarl cutting through the room that has satisfaction blazing across your chest. Rage bleeds across his features and his hand returns to your throat, shoving you down onto his desk, papers flying as ink spills across the surface, pens clattering as they drop to the floor. Your hands fly to his wrist, scratching at his scarred knuckles but his mouth has already descended over yours again and you move to grip at his hair, silky and soft beneath your violent touch. Heat swarms your skin as his shadows pin you down, writhing pleasantly across your body in a way that has your insides fluttering.

Azriel again pries your lips apart, tongue sweeping in as his mouth slants invasively over your own, flicking and stroking while his fingers hold your jaw in a vice-like grip. A strange feeling skitters beneath your skin, and you wrap your legs around his hips, minimising the space between your bodies as he presses flush against your centre.

You can feel him.

Oh Gods, you can feel him completely.

Your mouth parts as you push against him, tongue sweeping across his own, the kisses hot and wet as each of you refuse to lighten your grip on the other and your thighs squeeze him closer, determined you won’t be losing this battle.

Azriel pulls away abruptly, and you look up at him, watching keenly for any move he’ll make, aware what kind of beast you’re taunting. “Keep still,” he commands roughly, voice like gravel as his shadows swarm your body, and you snarl as the hand that was pinning your throat to the desk drops to the hem of your shirt. Before you have a chance to counter he’s lowered to your neck, hair having fallen back onto the surface so he has plenty of room as his shadows shove your face to the side.

You inhale sharply as his teeth graze the sensitive expanse, grip tugging on his hair to get him closer, eager to have him working his mouth over the intimate area. “Hurry up,” you hiss, eager to be rid of the burning heat as soon as possible.

“I’ll go at whatever pace I like,” he replies darkly before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave more than just a mark in his wake. A noise of pleasure seeks to slip from your mouth as he palms at your breast, thumb grazing across your nipple as he targets a spot just beneath your ear, kissing down your neck as he makes his way to your collar bones, littering your skin with deep bite marks that will surely remain for days, even with accelerated healing.

“You’re an arrogant prick, you know that,” you pant, putting as much venom into your voice as you can manage, thighs tightening around his hips so you can feel him more acutely, the thick length of him rubbing over your centre. “And you’re turned on by that?” He counters sharply with a hungry glint in his eyes.

Heat flushes your skin as you make to deny his claim, but his shadows have been untying the laces of your trousers making it easy for him to roughly grip the waistband and shove the material away, dragging it over your thighs and off past your ankles, leaving you with only your underwear to conceal your lower half. “Slow down,” you snarl, searching for a way to regain control of the situation. You hate that he’s the one in charge.

Azriel grips the underside of your thighs, guiding them to wrap snugly around his hips again as his hand slips beneath your shirt again, settling over your breast, fingers skimming your nipple tauntingly. “Hurry up. Slow down. Which one is it?” He goads, something that looks too close to male satisfaction passing through his expression for you to stand. Your lip curls and before you can second-guess yourself you’ve spat at him.

He freezes for a moment, motion halting and you find yourself holding your breath, keeping entirely still beneath him. Waiting for the storm to break.

Fury engulfs his eyes, features twisting in a snarl as he grips your jaw, fingers squeezing at the muscle as he forces your mouth open, spitting down between your lips. Your eyes widen as arousal flutters violently in your lower abdomen, unable to help the way your hips buck as you swallow. Sadism glints in his hazel eyes, his own arousal beginning to filter through into your lungs but to your surprise you don’t hate it.

“Like that?” He croons lowly, leaning over you while still gripping your jaw, eyes dark and dangerous yet there’s an unmistakable heat that he’s not quite able to entirely suppress. Rage pierces through your mind and your palm smacks across his cheek, nails catching on his brow and temple as you snarl lowly. “Try that again,” you hiss in warning, “I’m not against walking out right now if you pull something like that again.”

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it,” he replies icily, syllables dragging from his throat.

“Prick,” you snarl.

“Brat,” he bites back.

You make to smack him again but his shadows snare your wrists faster than you can blink, slamming them painfully back onto the table, the impact ringing through your bones but you refuse to show your wince. You open your mouth to hiss something at him—what, you haven’t yet decided—but the intention dissolves on your tongue as you feel him cup you through your underwear. Heat unravels in your lower stomach, liquefying into a torrent as arousal breaks all at once across your skin and you find yourself breathless. Cruel, dark hazel eyes pierce into yours, watching intently as he rests the heal of him palm over the apex of your thighs, his middle finger running tauntingly over your entrance, applying a light pressure to the dip between your legs.

Male satisfaction is written across his features but you find you can’t think of anything to knock it away: your hands are pinned, your legs slung over his hips, and you’re in no state to control the small amount of magic you possess. Azriel’s mouth remains in a loathsome cut, but you can still make out that heat in his gaze, the slight ember that’s the cause of this whole mess—you wonder how clearly it’s showing in your own eyes.

“Nothing to say?” He asks lowly over your mouth, silky hair brushing against your brow like a tender caress—the gentlest touch either of your will ever share between one another, and entirely unintended. “Don’t worry,” he rasps coldly, thumbing your underwear out of the way and your lips part on a sharp inhale as you feel his cock slide through the wetness that’s coalesced between your thighs. “I’ll make sure to fuck the brat out of you.”

“At least my negative traits can be removed,” you manage to hiss out ruefully, wishing to be able to rake your nails across his skin somehow. “There’s no changing what you are.”

You don’t need to remind him of your earlier comment. He’s been hearing the words repeat through his mind since you spat them out: Illyrian scum.

Icy fury glitters in his gaze, fingertips biting bruises into your hips as he lines himself up and swiftly pushes in, the entrance made almost effortless by how wet you are; you’re somewhat relieved when he makes no comment about it.

Your spine arches helplessly, lips parting as he pushes in, filling you up in a way you hadn’t anticipated or even considered. Satisfying the ache that had been thrumming between your legs, giving you something long and thick to squeeze. Your only saving grace is that he seems to be as breathless as you are, brow lowered to the top of your sternum, lips grazing between your breasts as his hands remain firmly on your hips. From another angle you’d think it looked reverent, but then you’d also look in the heights of pleasure, and no matter how Azriel might be able to make you feel physically, there’s no removing the guttural hatred that burns between you.

“Move,” you whisper, panting softly. “Move.”

His wings twitch almost imperceptibly at his back, then he’s dragging himself upright, pulling away from you to stand to his full height as he looms above. You swallow thickly, having enough sense to squeeze your thighs around his hips, legs locking as you urge him to move; to give more. “Hold still,” he breathes, and your muscles instinctively relax, giving him room to shift.

“So you can follow orders,” he muses lowly, holding you tight as he draws back.

“Fuck o—” you begin to say, but he rolls his hips firmly to yours and your head tips back onto his desk, falling to the side as his cock rubs so delightfully against you, pleasure brimming at your edges from being so full, so spread out. He doesn’t give you time to recover. After another firm roll of his hips, as if testing you out, he finds his rhythm instinctively. Hard, punishing movements that allow him to pound into you, shoving the breath from your lungs as he repeatedly slams into you.

Your spine arches, writhing on his desk as you tug at the shadowy constraints, desperate noises being forced from your chest as his cock drives into you over and over again, thoughts practically falling out of your mind as it turns to mush beneath the utterly overwhelming onslaught of pleasure. Your eyes squeeze shut, blocking him out so you can concentrate only on the purest part of the sensations, zero in on the flutter of arousal between your legs, the rightness of being so full up, of having him pressed so tight between your thighs.

You allow yourself to fall deeply into the pleasure, allow yourself to be washed away entirely, submerged in the heated waters as you keep just enough of a hold on him to prevent your legs from falling off the desk. A moan slips from between your lips as your control begins to disintegrate, content to bask in the pleasure and forget who’s providing it. Azriel doesn’t make it that easy, though.

“Things would be so much better if you just learned to shut up and take it sooner,” he mutters down at you, shadows crawling leisurely over your body, pushing the fabric of your top up over your chest so their master can watch as your figure moves with each of his thrusts. Pleasure blossoms as his darkness teases the sensitive peaks of your breasts, pinching and playing with your nipples, and you try to dig your nails into your palm, teeth pushing into your lower lip to keep the noises from becoming louder.

“You’re so well-behaved now,” he muses lowly, and even if his expression wouldn’t show his pleasure, you can hear it the rich timbre of his voice, the satisfaction he’s feeling at getting you to shut up. “So docile,” he taunts, and your eyes snap open to shoot him a furious glare for trying to disrupt your pleasure. For succeeding. But no sooner than you open your eyes, his thumb presses over your clit and any resistance is utterly obliterated.

Azriel hadn’t anticipated how it would feel however, how your body would respond to the intimate kind of stimulation he was subjecting you to, and is unable to bite down on the rough groan that drags viscerally from his chest as you tighten around him, as if trying to pull him deeper so he’ll never leave.

The both of you are near your breaking point though neither wants to admit it. But the signs are there. Your panting breaths, the gleam on his skin, the heat to your cheeks, the tension in his body—it’s all there for the other to read. He rubs against a spot and despite subduing your reaction he somehow knows where to aim, targeting it repeatedly as his thumb soothes over your clit, the pad sliding effortlessly over top from the slick that’s coating the both of you. It’s so much that your discipline slips for a moment. “Azriel…”

It’s softer than a breath, quieter than a whisper, but he hears it. Of course he hears it. And he finds that he likes the way you moan his name. Especially while getting to take his tension out on you so roughly. It’s probably more satisfying than any method he could have thought up on his own.

His grip tightens on your hips, angling them slightly upright as he leans over you. “Say that again,” he commands quietly, but firmly. An intensity in his demand that has your throat rolling. You don’t want to, but you can feel his concentration piercing down on you, the intensity of his focus weighing so heavily that you feel like your skin is prickling.

“Piss off,” you manage to get out, but you can feel how swiftly release is gathering, how close you are to that wonderful high that will knock you clean from your feet.

For a moment he continues with his punishing movements, but it seems like he’s committed now. You hadn’t fully understood what it would mean to have his entire attention upon you, but when he roughly rips you from his desk, jerking you up against his chest as he turns the two of you around so your back is shoved up against his wall, you feel the consequences dawn on you.

From this position you’re forced so much closer, the physical intimacy catching you off guard as your breasts press flush to his chest, staring into cold hazel eyes that can be no more than a few inches from your own, able to feel each puff of breath that’s expelled from his body as it brushes over your lips. He takes up all of your vision, wings flared slightly at his back as shadows crawl up your body, pinching at your nipples, pressing against your clit as his hips buck roughly to your own and you feel yourself unravel.

The orgasm pulses through your body once, before crashing down on you in its entirety, and your mouth parts in silent ecstasy.

His hand slides through your hair, your own having found their place on his shoulders, and he angles your head so you’re forced to look at him. “Say it,” he murmurs, lips brushing over yours, and your world is thawed enough that you yield.

“Az…riel…”

A heavy sigh warms your mouth, then his teeth grit, head dropping to your shoulder as you feel him find his release. Your hips buck, hands grappling to reach over his shoulders, pulling him into you as the waves of pleasure continue to pulse through your body, muscles turning custard-like beneath the overpowering sensations. Reaching weakly over his back, you have enough energy to lightly skim the pads of your fingers over the ridges of his wings, and if it wasn’t for his proximity to you, you’re almost certain you would have missed the soft moan that involuntary parts from his lips. He tenses briefly, the only sign that he was caught off guard before his teeth settle over your shoulder, biting lightly at the side of your throat.

Breaths pant between you as you ride out the aftershocks, basking in the waning pleasure for a few moments longer before your hold relaxes on him, and he steps back, hands still keeping your hips pinned to the wall despite your feet now being on the ground.

You bite back a hiss as his cock leaves you feeling slightly cold and empty, but you’d rather take a near-lethal dose of faebane than tell him that. His gaze meets yours and for a second you’re unsure what you could possibly say to one another. But his expression remains cold, your own features shifting habitually towards neutrality.

“You have until tomorrow morning to redo the report,” he mutters, already having his clothes back in place as his shadows push your trousers to your stomach, and your hands wrap around the bundle of fabric.

“Want me to write a report on this, too?” You reply, relieved that the heat is beginning to cool, sensing you’re back in control of yourself.

His brow narrows, the hollow beneath darkening with loathing. “You’re more trouble that you’re worth,” he mutters, stepping back to give you space.

You meet his icy gaze, a sharp glint in your own as victory sparks darkly across your chest.

“Liar.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

az taglist: @azrielshadows1nger @jurdanpotter @positivewitch @nightcourt-daydreaming @assassinsblade @marvelouslovely-barnes @v3lv3tf0x @kalulakunundrum @vellichor01 @throneofsmut @vickykazuya @starlitlakes

[nattblacklupin]

Ice and shadows

Pairing: hockey player! Azriel x fem! Reader

Warnings: cursing, lots of fluff

Summary: headcanons about hockey player! Azriel

Hockey player! Cassian/Eris ● masterlist

Azriel is defence, He's the quiet and fast one that is nearly invisible on the ice if you don't pay attention to him.

His sneaky ability to not be seen isn't put to use just on the ice to suprise his opponents. He especially likes to use it when scaring his beloved wife, you.

You waited for Azriel to come back home from yet another training. The playoffs are close, and they are working harder than ever. He stays there even longer than his teammates, scared of failing once again - no one on the Velaris team wants to lose in the semifinals like last year. They made stupid mistakes that couldn't happen again. All of them will make sure of it.

With lids feeling heavier every second, you try to still pay attention to your favourite show. It will surely keep you awake until Azriel arrives home.

Long yawn left you as something touched your shoulder. With scream, you jumped up. Now awake and aware with a feeling of adrenaline. You quickly grabbed the vase that was on the coffee table, on which you nearly fell. Ready to fight any intruder that could come in your home. "Woah, who knew I married such a dangerous woman." Focusing your eyes and slowly calming down, you realise that the scary intruder is just your husband finally home. With that, you put down the vase and jumped on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. "Never scare me like that again," you whisper into his lips. "I wouldn't dream of it." He finally kissed you with plans that will keep you awake for the whole night.

Azriel isn't exactly the type to force you to wear his jersey to games. It's up to you, you can wear whatever you want. He can fight. But oh, mother, when you wear his jersey, it awakes something in him. You having his name on your ass and in your passport is dream come true for him. He is thanking the stars every night for blessing him with your presence.

It was an important match today, the whole Velaris team stressing about it for weeks. This match will decide which team will go to playoffs. Azriel left long ago, which left you home alone with a lot of work. You didn't mind, though. At least you could take your mind off the potential loss that can happen today.

Being finally done with all chores, you decided it's the time to start getting ready. It's better to be there sooner rather than later. Knowing that Azriel doesn't play well without his good luck kiss. Your heart nearly stopped when you checked the time. The game starts in twenty minutes. It's nowhere the time you wished you would have. Your hair is still messy, dressed in Azriels shirt without make up you started running around the house, trying to get ready as fast as possible. Glad for the fact that the stadium was 5 minutes from your home if you ran. Swiftly putting on stray pants that were on the floor, where you threw them yesterday, grabbing Azriels jersey you run out of the house. Your feet took you to the stadium in a record time of three minutes, quickly finding your way to the cabins where the players are probably now doing the last steps of their pregame routine. You open the door while taking deep breaths. "Azriel". Azriels shoulders visibly releax, "you came." He whispered like he thought you forgot, like you wouldn't come to support your husband in the second thing that mattered the most to him. "Of course I did"

As said before, Azriel has to have his good luck kiss, or he just can't play well. Everybody teases him for it, but behind his back, they are begging you to never skip his game. The one time it happened was enough.

Fortunately for everyone, it was just practice match before the season, where it didn't exactly matter if the team won. But every match mattered to them, no matter with whom or when. They are here to show they are the best.

That's probably why everybody was taken by suprised when Azriel was clumsy on the ice and couldn't keep balance. His usually incredibly fast skating turned into woblly slow skating. It got that bad he himself decided not to play that day, saying that he just can't.

Azriel never exactly told anyone it was cause you didn't came to the game and weren't his lucky charm. But it was more than clear to anyone who isn't blind.

Since that day, you had to come to every game. And if you couldn't, well you suddenly could. Because Cassian has no problem with stealing you away and bringing you to the game

"No, Cass, I really can't come. I have to do this work. I can probably make it in time for third period, but I'm not sure." Explaning your reasons to Cassian was harder than anyone could ever imagine. He didn't understand that you had work that had to be done today or that your boss would literally kick you out. Sometimes, you feel like your boss is secret hater of your boyfriend, and that's why he tries to keep you in work longer, just on days when he plays. "You will come, we don't care about your opinion." Cassian responded stubborn as ever, "well I don't care about yours too. " With that, you left the call, finally doing papers given to you by the boss.

Ten minutes in someone barged into your office, putting you over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "Cassian! What the hell are you doing?!" You yelled at him, keeping your anger at bay, or you would have to punch him. "Saving the match" confidence and pride dripping from his voice. You lifted up your head, looking at him with an annoyed look. "Fine." Crossing your arms letting out a sigh still swinging over his shoulder, "but I swear to gods, if I get fired, you will send me money every month"

Don't think that your relationship with Azriel is any secret or not medially famous. It's quite the opposite.

You two are the most famous and loved couple in hockey word. Sometimes, Rhysand is jokingly complaining about how you're stealing his spotlight and becoming more famous than the whole team.

People love to edit you two with cute songs and use every cute clip that is on the internet.

The most famous being moment where he is on the ice sending you kiss after scoring a goal. Or where someone recorded you two while skating on public ring, Azriel having to hold your hands so you don't fall. It resulted in both of you falling because some kid bumped into you.

Not to mention that Azriel loved taking you to all of his interviews. Like all of them.

Reporter wanting to have an interview with him without you? Nope, it's not happening. You two are double version, it's not possible to get one without the other.

"So Azriel, tell us, what was the biggest motivation for winning this match? Was there something - perhaps someone you won this for?" Azriel nodded his head and looked at you, love sparkling in his eyes. " Of course I did. Like every match. " The camera captures the way his hand snakes around your waist, with feathery like touches caressing it.

"I won it for my wife"

[sscieloz]

Sweetest dreams

Park Chaeyoung x reader

Synopsis: it’s been long since you’ve had a girls night with your best friend, Rosé. also, it’s been long since you’ve been having many non-friendly dreams regarding the blonde, too. luckily, she knows you and your body too well, and is all willing to help.

Warnings: smut. nsfw. dom!rosé x sub!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Notes: this is a fairly worn out prompt but i’m trying to get back to writing so… i hope it doesn’t suck too much. love you bunnies ^^ xx ps: not proofread! sorry :/ it’s late and i have an exam tmr

Rosé’s tongue was all over your body, making you shiver. She trails sweet kisses over your skin, her mouth lingering lower and lower until she reached the middle of your thighs, making you moan as you grab her hair to pull her face to your needy cunt. Your skin felt on fire, and you needed release so bad…

In a blink, however, you found yourself almost falling off the bed, pajamas sticking to your sweaty skin and heart roaming loudly. You gathered yourself back to a safe place in bed and, taking deep breaths, tried to remind yourself it was just a dream. An excellent, forbidden one.

Once again, you were dreaming of fucking your best friend. Those dreams were beginning to happen frequently, now, no matter how hard you tried to suppress your feelings for her. Rosé was simply everywhere: in advertisements, banners, commercials… She was, indeed, the moment. It was impossible to ignore her presence and effect on your body, even though you tried. Hard.

As you managed to calm yourself down, you took notice of how wet you were. Your panties were sticking to your cunt, and you simply felt the urge to be filled. It was uncomfortable and made you incredibly frustrated, even more since the dream had felt so real… it was almost like Rosé was actually between your thighs, pleasing you until your body went numb.

You could only wish, though.

“Y/n, love, what’s wrong?” You felt Rosé’s arms on your back, tracing soothing circles, as she usually did when you woke up from a nightmare. She knew you were prone to those, often facetiming her in the middle of the night to have her keep you company until you managed to fall asleep.

However, it wasn’t a nightmare this time.

You and Rosé have been best friends since high school, and she was thrilled to welcome you to Korea when you got into Hanyang University, in Seoul. Your friendship only got stronger as she debuted and even now, with her idol life and your work in tech, you’d always find some time to talk to each other and hang out. You were close— she was your closest friend, even though she was frequently physically away for the most, and Rosé would always make some time to have sleepovers with you, whenever she came back to Korea. It was a ritual you’ve grown accustomed to for many years now, and it was extremely relaxing and soothing: to just gossip, eat snacks and watch cringey movies until you fell asleep in her enormous bed, passed out from exhaustion.

That was until you started having those damn dreams about her, months ago.

Sensing that you wouldn’t answer, Rosé scooped herself closer, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Just tell me, dear, and we’ll fix it. Is it another nightmare?”

You shook her head, shutting your eyes to avoid staring at the blonde’s attentive gaze. If Rosé took a single look at you, she’d know you were terribly aroused right away.

Somehow, Rosé always knows everything that happens to you.

Gently grabbing your chin, she inspected every inch of your face.

“Not a nightmare?” You mumbled in response, shaking your head. Her brows furrowed, and she stood on her elbows. “What then, love?”

Her hand was still tracing circles on your back, and God, her touch was driving you crazy. You were absolutely conscious of the wet pool in your panties and couldn’t help but wonder what would it feel like if her long, graceful fingers went a bit further, until they reached your slit and—

“J-just a dream.” the pillow muffled your voice. “Silly dream.”

“It’s not silly, dear. Not if it bothers you. Do you want to tell me what was it about?” Rosé offered, finally stopping to stroke your back. She was awake now, focused on you.

It makes you shiver.

“It’s ok, really.” You gulped, pushing the covers to get off the bed and from the temptation that was having the blonde so close. “I just have to use the restroom real quick.”

Her hands gripped your thighs to stop you from getting up, nails scratching your needy skin. You let out a low grasp, immediately putting a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds. It didn’t matter, now. Of course she heard you moan like a little bitch at her slightest touch. You grabbed her wrists, but didn’t motion to pull her from you, either.

“Y/n, look at me.” Her assertive tone was the same you’ve heard many times, although directed to other people. The one she used when she wanted something done quickly and without much questioning; the one of a leader. Naturally, you did as told, staring hesitantly at her darkened eyes. “Tell me what you’ve just dreamt about.”

You gulped, mumbling a set of incoherent phrases until a squeeze on your thigh made you inhale deeply, trying to gather some courage. “Promise not to laugh? Or to hate me?”

“Never, dearest.” Rosé smiled at you, just as she has done countless times before, which soothes most of your nerves away. “We tell each other everything, right? So tell me.”

Her hands, the ones still brushing your thighs with care, made it difficult to breathe and to speak clearly. You’ve always loved that Rosé was an affectionate person, but that seemed a lot different, now. Her touch was clearly different.

You don’t think you can get any wetter than that; your insides felt so drenched you feared you’d be leaving a wet spot in Rosé’s sheets once you got up. Your skin was on fire and your hands trembled, expecting. You wondered what would Rosé do once you finally confess your dirtiest, sluttiest things you. Would she tell you off? Would she say she only thought of you as a friend, and that you were mixing things up?

Still, for the first time in your life, you decided to risk it.

“I-I,” Your voice faltered, too scared to say anything and fuck up your friendship, but as rosé kissed your hair gently, you continued, “I dreamt you were eating me out. There, I said it. That was it.”

You shut your eyes, feeling your face getting all flustered. She must think you’re such a pervert, now. Why wouldn’t she, with you edging yourself on her bed like a whore?

You didn’t want ruin your friendship, nor did you want Rosé to think of you as one of the many people who only wanted her for her body, her money or her fame.

Again, you motioned to get up, mumbling excuses and adding you were going home immediately, but the smaller girl managed to place herself in front of you, a sneaky smile dancing on her lips.

“Do you want me to?” She licked her lips, staring at your mouth expectantly. you didn’t answer immediately, with your mind still clouded, making her jump in her place. “Eat you out, I mean. Do you?”

You choked on your saliva as you gulped hard, staring at her in disbelief. “If I want you to—“

“Wait. I have a better idea,” Rosé pushed you as she placed herself between your thighs, “Just don’t think so much, Y/n.”

Before you could say anything, the blonde had already taken your panties out, diving into your cunt with hunger. You couldn’t help but moan loudly as she works her way in, your hands flying to her hair to push her even further.

She doesn’t let you breathe or even compose yourself as her hands roam through your body, soon getting rid of your big shirt.

“You taste so good, Y/n-nie.” She murmurs, although it clearly isn’t directed at you. Her gazed is focused on your sex, lazily playing with your clit as she licks and sucks, “Just as I always knew you would. Took you too fucking long.”

“R-rosie…” You mumble, too lost in pleasure to properly tell her what you want her to do with you. Rosé is skilled, and you try your best to ignore the piercing feeling that bruises your heart as you realize she’s obviously had lots of practice. Thankfully, said thoughts are promptly vanished from your brain as the blonde’s fingers open you up, allowing her to slip her tongue inside your entrance in a languid pace. Her movements are messy and her saliva, mixed with your wetness, runs in a thin line through her chin as she moans. The vibrations of her voice echo through your cunt with enough strength to make you cum on the spot, and it takes you much strength to just not give in.

She looks divine, all collected while you’re a shuddering mess, her tongue now making circling movements everywhere as she plays with your sex as much as she wants to. You can feel your abdomen heating up to your orgasm, and part of you hates that she’s so good at this: you don’t want it to end so soon.

“‘M-m close,” You manage to mumble, gripping her hair even tighter to pull her into your dripping pussy. To your dismay, she retreats herself quickly, giving your pussy a final, sloppy kiss as she distances herself from between your thighs.

You whine, almost crying to have your pleasure ruined. You stand on your elbows to stare at Rosé, cocking your head to the sides to try to figure her out. Hadn’t you been good? You did tell her about your dreams, just as she asked—no, demanded you to do. Why were you being punished, then?

Laughing at your confusion, Rosé pulls herself up to meet your face, taking you in for a lusty kiss. She liked it messy, it’s not difficult to notice. Your mouths were both red and bruised from the intensity of your actions, with the blonde dominating all corners of your mouth completely, until you too had tasted the saltness of your juices mixed with her intoxicating taste; one you’ve dreamt about for so long.

“I’m not trying to ruin your fun, babe.” She murmurs, tapping your thighs, so you’re positioned on top of her as she lies down, bringing your red, swollen pussy onto her face. Somehow, Rosé always knows what you are thinking.

Her tone is low and sensual as she adds, giving your cunt shallow licks, “I just want you to cum on my face, exactly like this.”

You don’t have much of a choice, even so, as she grips her nails on your thighs and lowers your body to lap her mouth at your cunt once again, somehow even more dense than before. You didn’t mind the pain from her acrylic nails, though— too focused on regaining the familiar feeling that was already building up on your stomach to care about the marks it’d leave, later.

“You’re t-too good. Fuck!” Your eyes roll as you push yourself even further onto Rosé, not minding whether she was breathing or not. Although, from the way she rubs her own thighs and the lewd sounds she makes, you’re fairly able to notice she’s getting her fair amount of fun, too.

“You should’ve heard yourself, Y/n.” Rosé’s giggles are nothing but a mushed sound in your head, since all you were focused was on how sweet her lips tasted when colliding with your skin. Her greedy tongue sucked on your clit, making its way onto all your pussy just to pay attention to your swollen bud once again, circling and changing the amount of pressure she chose to apply. You felt one of her hands grip your breasts, pinching your nipples in a sudden movement that causes your eyes to open, making you focus on the blonde. It was so good, and you could feel your release starting to present itself, rushing down in strong waves that had your body begin to tremble slightly. “Moaning like a bitch for me, even in your dreams. You’re so nasty, you know? Wanting this so bad. Such a fucking whore.”

“R-rosie, please, I’m so fucking close. Let me cum, please, I s-swear I’ll do anything you want if you just let me fucking c—“ You beg, letting out a high-pitched moan as you feel her teeth nibbling the insides of your thighs.

You can feel her smiling under you as she commands. “Do it, my sweet. Let go, then.” And with one final harsh suck on your clit, you cum hard, your whole body trembling as Rosé helps you extend your high by giving your pussy long, sloppy licks, collecting all of your cum as she does so.

You sigh, letting your body fall limp besides her. Your muscles felt sore, and you were sure you’d wake up covered in bruises in the morning— and Rosé knew how much you thought it was corny to be marked like that.

However, it did make you let out a small giggle, knowing she probably did it on purpose, always finding little ways to defy you.

“God, you’re so pretty like this.” You feel her slim arms circle your waist, pulling you close to herself as she places little kisses on your shoulder and back. “Doesn’t even compare to how I imagined it, so many fucking times. I lost count, you know?Of how many.”

Instinctively, you found yourself leaning further as she finds her way to your neck, brushing your sticky, sweaty hair aside to make sure to leave an even bigger mess on your skin. It was only when you felt her fingers brush your ass and cup your cunt that you whined loudly, turning around to hide your head in the crook of her neck.

“One more, princess?” She asks, pecking your lips as she lifts your chin, eager to have a proper look at your fucked out face. For Rosé, it was the best sight in the world.

“S’ too soon, Rosie. Too much.” You mumble, looking down to where her hands rested. You’ve had a rough week at work, and now that your high has passed, you could feel the weariness reaching deep in your bones. You closed your eyes, hoping to rest for just a few seconds, but whined even more as you felt the weight of her on the bed gone.

“I’ll clean you up, then.” She clarified, smiling once you grabbed her wrists to keep her from going further away from you. You would rather not leave the warmth of her body, nor break the bubble of love and reassurance you were feeling, at the moment. “Just a few seconds, I promise. Then I’ll be right back with you.” Her promise was enough for you to let go of her arm, sighing in defeat.

You searched for one of Rosé’s numerous pillows— all splashed on the ground now. — and tried to make yourself comfortable while you watched her go to her bathroom, making a big effort to keep your eyes opened.

The next thing you felt were warm, delicate hands brushing your thighs with a warm towel. Rosé worked on you with care as she cleaned you, leaning in for another slow kiss as she noticed your attention on her.

“We have to talk about this, Rosie.” You murmured, making it her turn to grunt.

“Sure, we’ll talk.” She assured you, nodding. But as her hands were so warm, and she started massaging your skin just as she knew you liked it, you decided that talking could wait until morning, logically. “Sweet dreams, my sweet girl.”

Before you’ve even had time to acknowledge it, your body had given up to the land of dreams, unlike you intended to, and Rosé gave you a gentle kiss before scooping you up.

[velarisnightsky444]

Get Yourself Off*

Kinktober Day 4: Thigh Riding with Nesta

CW: D/S dynamics, degradation, smut

Word Count: 629

October Masterlist

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Control was something Nesta had always lacked. She had no control during the years of abuse from her mother. She had no control when her family lost their money. She had no control when she was thrown into the cauldron, or locked in the House of Wind.

Now, control was something Nesta needed. And how lucky was she to be mated to a you, who loved giving up your control to her. She could control everything you did, and she loved it. But when you disobeyed her, that was when she really took advantage of that control.

Nesta sat on the red, velvet couch of your sitting room, staring up at you as you stood in front of her. Her grey eyes raked up and down your body, still clad in your lavender dress. She wore a maroon dress that dipped low enough to show off her impressive cleavage.

"You came without permission last night," Nesta reminded you, tsking.

"I already apologized," you whined, fidgeting with your fingers.

"But I didn't accept that apology," she said sharply, narrowing her silver eyes. "Lift your skirt."

You obliged, collecting the skirts of your dress and lifting them up to reveal your lacy underthings. A smirk graced her lips, her eyes caught on your clothed core. She slid her own dress up to reveal her bare thigh to you.

"Get yourself off on my thigh, like the desperate whore you are," Nesta said to you.

You perked up at the words, at the fact that she was letting you cum. You were sure that after last night, she'd make you go at least a week. You reached to take your lacy underthings off, but she stopped you with a lifted finger.

"Keep them on," she instructed.

You pouted a bit, but obeyed, nonetheless. You knew very well that if you were to argue with her, she likely wouldn't let you cum at all. And you weren't risking that. Not when you'd finally been given a glimmer of hope.

You settled onto her toned thigh, straddling it while still wearing your underthings. Even with the barrier between her and your core, it felt heavenly. Her muscles hit you in just the right spots, and you knew you had been made for her.

Nesta's slim fingers twisted in your hair, forcing your head back to reveal your neck to her. She hummed, studying your throat, delighting in how vulnerable you were. She could do anything to you, and you loved that.

As you began to softly rock against her thigh, she licked up the column of your throat. The feeling of her hard thigh against your clit made your body shudder.

You whimpered softly as Nesta grazed her teeth against your pulse point. She was so cruel, in such an exciting way. She bit down softly, whimpers leaving your lips at the addicting pain.

"Nes," you gasped, riding her thigh.

Nesta's soft lips began pressing kisses under your jaw, making sweet moans leave your lips. She tugged on your hair a bit harder, and you gasped, but didn't complain, as it gave her further access to your neck.

Nesta lifted her thigh to meet your movements, and you mewled, gripping onto her to keep yourself upright. The pleasure was enough to make you lose control of yourself, but you held on.

She bit down on the skin of your neck gently, just as that coil began to form in your core. That high began to close in, and you whimpered, grinding faster and harder against her muscled thigh, Nesta meeting your movements.

"Good girl," she mused against your throat.

"Please, Nes," you whined, so close to your release. "Please."

"Cum for me, YN," she granted.

"Thank you," you moaned, your release barreling through you.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Kink/Fluff/Angstober Taglist: @serxndipity-ipity-blog @danikamariemain @book-obsessed124 @winchesterbbygrl @kissesfrommads @binnieonabike @fourthwing4ever @ghostslittlegf @mollygetssherlockcoffee @hawke1917 @nesta-houseofwindfantasy @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @honk4emoboys @rogerbarnesxx @a-courtof-azriel @kodokunarisu-blog @dxjaaaa @secretsicanthideanymore @littlepippilongstocking

Nesta Taglist:

General Taglist: @lilah-asteria @anneas11 @andreperez11 @isnotwhatyourethinking @effervescentbutterfly

comment to be added to any of the taglists!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[bimboothefool]

They make eachother better

[totally-not-niyah]

A Princess and a Pirate

A/N: This lil thing makes sense but also kinda doesn't? Uh- I was working on this many months apart so I probably forgot some stuff and had to come up with a lil sumn to replace but I think overall, the plot is pretty easy to follow...? IDK, ANYWAYS ENJOY-

Pairing: Harry Hook x Reader Word Count: 5k Warnings: refers to intentional harm? idk if that counts; OH! I usually write Harry with his accent, so that's why his dialogue may look weird, and then highkey a warning for this plot!

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Ever since the barrier on the Isle had come down, inviting all the VKs to the wonderful kingdom of Auradon, things were changing around here. 

You had to admit, it was interesting and fun to see new people getting to experience what Auradon had to offer for the very first time, and meeting all of the Isle kids was pretty enjoyable.

Especially a certain group of pirates. 

You had heard about Uma and her crew through your sister, Audrey, who essentially heard about them through all of Mal’s prior ramblings about her, but you never got the chance to see her in person during the Cotillion, since you went off with Chad right before it started to pick your sister up from the Fairy Cottage. 

However, now that her and her crewmates were here and settling down in the land, you found yourself running into them around the school grounds, and frankly, you had quite a fascination. 

Specifically, a fascination with Harry Hook, Uma’s first mate. 

There was something about the son of Captain Hook that was just so…enticing. His eyes, his hair, his voice. The crazy thing is, you’d never exchanged words with him. Like, ever. Yet somehow, what started off as an innocent fascination turned into a full-blown crush.

Unfortunately, though, not everyone was as…open and welcoming to the new VKs as you were. 

There were still some royals and nobles (including your grandmother, Queen Leah) who felt that people like them didn’t belong in Auradon. To top it off, you were friends with one of them. 

For instance, Jania, who was the daughter of one of the men on Ben’s council, made constant little jabs and comments at the new arrivals, showing you a whole different side of her. 

“I give it a couple more weeks before they go and screw something up around here,” she mumbled as the two of you were walking from a class. 

“Well, they’re bound to make a mistake, Nia. They just got here,” you replied, confused to where the conversation was coming from all of a sudden. “They’re still learning the ropes.”

Jania rolls her eyes. “Yeah, right. You really think they’ll stay out of trouble?”

“You had trouble when you first started too, remember?” 

“At least I actually belonged here.”

You frowned a bit at the insinuation. “That’s not fair.”

“Whatever,” she scoffs. “ I’ll be back. Don’t go anywhere.” 

You do just that, seeing as you were right beside your locker, anyways. When she’s out of eyesight, you turn your body, letting out a gasp as you accidentally bump into someone and stumble. If it weren’t for them grasping your arms to steady you, you probably would’ve been on the floor. 

“Oh!” you stammer with wide eyes, immediately forming an apology on the tip of your tongue. “I’m so sorry!”

When you actually register who it was you bumped into, your eyes widen some more. 

It was Harry. 

“Aye, no worries, lass,” he says, amusement dancing in his bright blue eyes. “Yeh got some quick reflexes.” 

You laugh a bit, a mixture of both nerves and awkwardness, because how could you possibly fumble that bad? Eyes darting around a bit, you look for something to say, before realizing that there was a hook wrapped around one of your arms instead of his other hand that was holding you up. 

“I, uh… I like your hook. It’s very…shiny.” 

Harry tilts his head, a grin playing on his lips. “Thank yeh? No one’s ever said that ta me before.”

“Yeah,” you force another weird laugh as he straightens your body back up, giving him little finger guns. “And thank you for catching me.”

Not even a full five seconds later and you cringe. Why am I so lame about this? 

Instead of making an even bigger fool outta yourself, you purse your lips and quickly crouch down to pick up the books you dropped. The boy above you keeps his eyes trained on you, gaze flitting to the front of the notebook you now held. 

“Yer name is (y/n)?” he asks, examining the personalized decoration of the notebook that included your name. 

“Yep,” you nod, rocking back and forth. “You’re Harry, right? Uma’s friend?”

“Tha’s right,” he smiles, giving you a dramatic bow that just fits him for some reason, your brain concludes. “A pleasure ta meet yah.”

Matching his energy, you offer a polite curtsy. “And you as well.”

The two of you are staring at each other with little smiles before the sound of footsteps break the moment. You turn around, finding that Jania had returned, and she was currently eyeing Harry with a hateful gaze. 

“Hey, pirate boy,” she sneers, yanking one of your hands into hers. “Go and terrorize someone else, my friend doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

“Wha- hey, no, Nia, don’t-!” your confused protests fall on deaf ears as she continues to drag you away with her, and all you can do is look back and mouth an “I’m sorry” to Harry before you turn a corner. 

“I can’t believe you were talking to that guy, (y/n)!” She hisses. “Didn’t we just have a conversation about this?”

“What are you so worked up for?” you murmur, trying to regain your footing because it feels like she’s dragging you away even faster. “You saw him, he’s nice, he has a sweet smile, he wasn’t terrorizing anyone-!” 

“Are you even listening to yourself?!” Jania stops abruptly just so she can give you a stare full of disbelief and disapproval. “Those villain kids aren’t out for anything but themselves. I mean, just look at Mal. She’s going to be Queen now. And look what that did to your sister!” 

“Don’t bring Audrey into this,” you frowned, getting defensive over the fact that she was speaking your sister’s name in a conversation she didn’t even need to be a part of. “And please stop talking like that. You sound like my grandma.” 

“Well, maybe you should start listening to her for once,” she mutters under her breath. “Just stay away from them, alright?” 

That didn’t happen. 

Ever since that day, it was like the two of you kept on running into each other. Not that you were complaining. In fact, it was further fueling your attraction towards Harry. Whenever the two of you saw each other, you’d stop to say hi, maybe even have a brief conversation. And of course, you’d always hear Jania’s mouth about it, but it’s not like she could control your actions. 

One day, sometime during lunch, Harry spotted you sitting alone at a table, and decided to make his way over to you. 

“All by yerself?” He asks, grabbing your attention. 

“No,” you told him with a smile, sitting down your phone and sitting upright. “I’m waiting on someone. But you can sit till she gets here. If you wanna.”

He gladly accepts the offer, taking a seat next to you. 

“Let me guess, th’ one tha’ hates my guts?” 

Even though the look on his face shows that he’s only joking, you can’t help but feel sheepish. 

“Right,” you sigh. “I’m really sorry about that. She’s just a little…hard to soften up.”

“Are yeh bein’ nice about it?” he smirks. 

“…‘Lil bit.” The two of you share a laugh for a few seconds. “But to answer your question, no. I’m waiting for my sister.” 

His eyebrows lift slightly. “Yeh have a sister?” 

“Yeah,” you nod. “Audrey.” The realization clicks in Harry’s mind. 

“Aw, yer a Beauty kid~” he coos, resting his chin in the palm of one of his hands. “I ‘ave sisters too, actually.” 

“Really?” 

And so from there, he begins to delve into random tales with him and his sisters, even describing them for you so that you’ll know who they are if they ever pass by you around school. The stories have you so interested that you forget that your sister was supposed to be there until she actually showed up with both your lunches. 

She takes the spot next to you after Harry leaves you alone with her, waiting for a little while before speaking. 

“You like him, don’t you?”

The topic almost makes you choke on your food. 

“Hm?” 

“You. Like. Him,” she emphasizes, flicking you in the shoulder. 

“Where’d you get that idea?” You scoff. 

“Are you serious? As soon as I walked over here, you were just staring at him like-” she copies your attentive gaze, batting her lashes for dramatic effect. 

Rolling your eyes, you deny her claim, “ I didn’t even do all that.”

“But you do like him, right? You never said no.”

“I never said yes, either,” you retort. 

“You totally do, though,” she giggles. “I'm your sister. You can’t lie to me. I know these things.”

With a groan, you shake your head. “Fine. A little bit, yes.”

“A little?” 

“That’s all you’re getting,” you tell her, pushing her back with a laugh when she leans closer to you. “Get outta my face, Audrey!” 

=

Getting closer to Harry was fun. 

You found yourself constantly seeking him out, whether in school or in certain social settings, holding longer conversations with and getting to hang around both groups of friends with him, both yours and his. 

A favorite memory of yours in particular was when he sought you out after the sunset upon Auradon, so that you could join him in stargazing. 

“Yeh know, I’ve never actually really seen the stars before,” he comments as he sits beside you on the soft grass. 

“Really?” You said with surprise, to which he nodded. 

“It was a big dark cloud above the sky. Not much ta see like tha’.” 

“…Huh. And now that you can see them? What do you think of them?” 

He takes a moment to think before responding. “They’re…a lot brighter from ‘ere. Ye can even see the light reflecting off the lake.” 

“Uh-huh,” you nodded, noting how the sparkling dots of light twinkle in the water of the lake. You lean over a bit, getting a closer look when, all of a sudden, you feel water splash your side, making eye contact with a grinning Harry. 

“Hey!” Splashing him back, you watch him practically run away from the water, giggling along with you as a back and forth water war was waged. 

Once the two of you settled down, you started a game of creating your own constellations in the night sky, occasionally arguing about what they did and didn’t look like. As much as you would’ve liked to stay like that all night, the time of student curfew was approaching. 

“Thanks for this,” you said, smiling at him. “I had a lot of fun.” 

“Yeh don’ have ta thank me,” he replies, draping your sweater over your shoulders since it was getting cooler out. “I…like yer company.” 

“…I like your company, too.”

You’re gazing into his eyes, and he into yours. You can feel the way you both lean in, ever so closer to each other, until your faces are remotely close. Just when you feel the urge to make a move and go for it, you hear the clock chime, signaling that it was time to go. 

Pulling away slowly, you let out a soft exhale before smiling again, clutching the front of your sweater. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmurs. “Night, Harry.” 

“…G’night, darlin’,” he bids before you go your separate ways. 

The entire way back to your dorm, you’re grinning so hard your cheeks start to hurt. Even your sister and friend notice as they peep your giddy demeanor when you walk in. 

“Aahhhh, someone’s date went well~” Audrey squealed, clapping her hands. Jania was sitting beside her, dead silent but attentive. 

“It wasn’t a date, Audrey,” you chuckled, putting away your things. 

“That’s your opinion, anyways! Was it nice? Did you have fun? Did you two kiss?”

”Slow your roll! Yes, it was nice. Yes, I had fun. And we…almost kissed?” 

You can see the way her eyes light up, clearly invested in your first romantic experience. Jania, on the other hand, finally decides to say something. 

“Wait, wait, so this little thing of yours is getting serious?” 

“Uh…yes?” You say, unsure if that was even the right answer. Probably not. “No? Ugh, I dunno…he’s so sweet, you guys, and I really, really like him, but maybe I’m reading into this too much-?” 

“Better enjoy it while it lasts,” she mutters, getting up to go and lay in her own bed. 

Her words catch you off guard. “Huh? What does that mean?” 

“Nothing at all. Good night.” 

Both you and Audrey look at each other, not understanding what just happened, but shrug it off as she pats the spot across from her so that you can tell her everything that’s occurred during your time with Harry. 

The following morning, when you wake up, the first thing you notice is that it was only your sister in there with you, who was curling her hair in the vanity mirror. 

“…Where’s Nia?” You inquire, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. 

She looks your way, then towards Jania’s bed. 

“I have no idea,” she says thoughtfully. “She just said that she was getting an early start on the day.” 

You scrunch your face up. “That doesn’t sound like her at all, but hey, what do I know?” Yawning, you plop back down, trying to see if you could squeeze in another 15 minutes of sleep. 

=

During your first passing period, you’d taken Harry along with you to go see Ben in his office. Neither of you had addressed nor even slightly mentioned what happened last night, just going on as if it never happened. Which was good, because you didn’t think you could handle the awkwardness of a “hey, did we almost kiss?” conversation. 

You knock on the door, waiting for the green light before walking inside. 

“Hey, Ben,” you greet, placing a pamphlet down on his desk. “Someone dropped this off for you today.” 

“Oh, thank you,” he says, glancing up at you and doing a double take when he sees who’s accompanying you. “Did, uh, did you need something too, Harry?”

He shrugs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I’m jus’ here f’her.” 

Your eyes drift over to a tray sitting on one of the spare tables. 

“Ooo, candied apples?”

“Yeah, someone dropped them off earlier,” he responds. “I didn’t get a chance to see who it was.” 

“Mm.” You were too distracted with the one you’d already picked up. 

“Hey! How do you always get into my stuff before I can?” 

“You weren’t even gonna eat these.”

”Maybe I was,” he retorted, and although you didn’t believe that because he almost never ate the treats that people would drop off for him (not because he didn’t like them, there would literally just be so many), you decided to play along anyways. 

“Fine, fine,” you sighed, looking down at the tray to examine all of them before picking one up from the middle, passing it to them. “Here, this one’s more red than the others. I think it’s more candy coating on it or something.” 

Ben laughs before tapping his apple against yours and taking a large bite out of it. 

“Harry, d’you want one?” You pick up another apple and offer it to him, but he declines your offer. 

“I don’t like those things,” he tells you. 

“Who doesn’t like candied apples?” Ben asks, happily chowing down on his. “They’re so good.” 

“No, the best kind are the ones they dip in caramel and peanuts,” you add, taking a small bite out of your own. “You have to try one of those.” 

“Oh, yeah, those-” Out of the blue, Ben just stops talking. You focus your eyes back on him, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“…What? What happened?” He shakes his head, trying to readjust himself. 

“Uh, nothing- sorry,” he says, but his words and movements are getting slower and slower. “I…don’t know what happened, I just…”

”Ben…?” You say, eyes soon widening in horror when his roll back and flutter shut, causing him to fall out of his chair. 

“Ben!!” Rushing over, you catch him just before his head hits the ground, patting his cheek to get him to regain consciousness. “Ben!!” 

Harry knelt down at your side, mouth agape because he’s just as confused as you as to what happened to the young king just that fast, but neither of you know what to do. 

“Somebody help!!” 

=

“And you’re sure that’s all that happened?”

“Yeah!” you told Belle, hands clasped together as you saw your friend lying unconscious. “H-he just ate the apple and then passed out.” 

When help finally came, Fairy Godmother was called, along with Ben’s parents, and close friends who were alerted like Audrey and Jania. Mal and her friends were in the middle of something when she was called, so she was rushing to get here now. 

Harry had stuck by your side the entire time, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly as you were now starting to panic. 

“May I see the apple?” Fairy Godmother asks. “Did you bring it?” 

“Yeah.” You reach into your bag, pulling out the apple by the stick it was secured upon, unraveling it from the napkin and passing it to her. 

She examines it thoroughly, turning it in all directions to search for anything out of the ordinary. “All the apples looked like this?” 

“...For the most part,” you murmur. “That one was a little darker than the others. It’s why I picked it out. I figured maybe it had more candy coating on it than the others.” 

Pursing her lips, she gives you a solemn look. 

“This apple was enchanted. It’s laced with a sleeping curse.”

Your eyes widen, the feeling of your stomach dropping almost making you stagger. 

“Oh, god,” you whispered, covering your mouth with your hands. “I fed Ben a poison apple, oh my god…”

“Easy, lass,” Harry said softly, gripping your shoulders. “It wasn’t yer fault.” 

“Yeah, (y/n), he’s right,” your sister agrees. “You couldn’t have known. Your intentions were good when you gave it to him.” 

“Were they?” Jania’s words have you looking over at her. “You deliberately picked out that apple, (y/n). Are you sure you didn’t have a trick up your sleeve?” 

“Wha… Jania, what are you talking about? I would never do something like that to Ben! He’s like a brother to me!” 

“Maybe then,” she argues. “But things can change after you start spending all your time with Auradon’s newest group of troublemakers.” 

You  furrow your brows just a bit, because you begin to see exactly where this is going. 

“Nia, they had nothing to do with this,” you state firmly, pointing to Harry, who seemed a little uncomfortable with the accusation. “He had nothing to do with this! Will you get that out of your head?”

“How do you expect me to?! He’s the only one out of the three of you that didn’t eat an apple!”

“Because he doesn’t like them! If I gave you something you didn’t like and you told me you didn’t wanna eat it, would that make you suspicious?” 

“This is different!” Jania insists, standing up from her chair. “You know villain kids have a track record with poison apples. He’s the perfect suspect!”

“When ‘ave yeh ever seen me touch an apple?” Harry asks, perplexed by the words coming out of her mouth. 

“It doesn’t matter! You know it’s true!”

“Okay,” you say frustratedly. “Let’s say maybe that is true. Why would Harry try poisoning Ben?”

“I don’t know! A power trick? God, Ben wasn’t even supposed to get to the stupid apple!”

“Oh, really? Why not?”

“Because you were supposed to eat it!!”

The outburst puts everyone’s actions on pause, struggling to grip onto what had just been said. 

When sense reforms in your mind, all you can work out is a small, “…Excuse me?”

Even now, Jania looks shocked by what’s come out of her mouth, covering it promptly as her eyes dart between each one in the room. 

“What did you just say?”

“I- nothing- I didn’t mean-” she stammers, shaking her head as she takes a small step back. ”I didn’t mean for that to come out.”

“No,” your sister stands as well, her suspicions beginning to rise as yours did. “But you sure meant for this to happen. And to my sister?”

“Aud, listen- I was only trying to help-” 

It’s obvious that the young girl is becoming anxious, fumbling to try and find a proper response. 

“It all makes sense,” you mumbled, mulling over her strange behavior in the past few days. She’d let go of your association with Harry for the most part, but you hadn’t thought anything of it, assuming she’d finally had enough of berating you over it. 

But now things have become clearer. 

The oddly vagueness of her words last night, when she said “enjoy it while it lasts,” the unusual morning disappearance, and the fact that she was more concerned with pinning the blame on Harry than she was about Ben’s unexpected state. 

Because it wasn’t unexpected. She had planned this all along. 

“You knew that I would try to get to them first,” you continued on as you looked at the one you thought was your friend. “And that I would’ve probably picked that exact apple. You wanted me to eat it so that you could find a way to make it seem like Harry was the one who did it. Didn’t you?” 

Her eyes widened, astounded that you had figured out every inch of her plan.  

You feel Harry’s grip tighten slightly on your shoulders, and when you glanced up, he seemed pretty agitated at the revelation. 

“...Yeh tried ta poison her? Just ta set me up?” 

“Yeah, okay!” Jania finally confesses. “It may seem bad to you, but-”

Audrey’s about had enough of it already. “Don’t start trying to make excuses! You tried to put my sister’s life in danger, and all for what? Because you have some unspoken grudge against someone she’s in love with?”

Woah. Pause. 

“I- Audrey,” you whisper, trying to get her to retract that statement in an instant. However, she’s too concerned with getting on Jania’s case, so you can only pray and hope everyone else was also too distracted to hear what was just said. 

Especially Harry.

“I made a cure!” Jania tries to defend herself. “She wouldn’t have been asleep forever, she would have woken up eventually-” 

“Eventually?!” 

“Oh, god,” you hold a hand to your mouth for a second, unable to find anything that could help stop the argument before it escalates any further. 

Even though, truthfully, you didn’t want to. Jania got herself into this mess. She deserves more than being yelled at, another person’s life was at stake here. 

“Don’t you know that cures to sleeping curses have never actually worked?” Your sister continues. “Ever! Your silly little ‘cure’ would’ve failed, and then what? Then my sister would have been cursed for who knows how long!” 

“No! No, it wouldn’t- why are you so mad? I- I was only trying to help!” 

At that point, you step forward, too. “Help? I never needed help, Jania. You keep saying how- how the villain kids shouldn’t be trusted, but you were willing to risk my life and ruin someone else’s to prove a point. And rather than worrying about if Ben was actually gonna be okay, you keep overlooking it like it doesn’t even matter!”

You look at the adults in the room, knowing they would have much to say as well. Ben’s father notices your eyes, clearing his throat. 

“There will be consequences,” he says. “This was both an act of injustice and carelessness. It will be handled accordingly.”

Jania keeps her head hung low, knowing there was nothing she could do or say to shy away from the consequences of her actions. 

“As for you, Harry, we’re terribly sorry about this incident. If there’s anything we can do to make up for it, please let us know.”

The boy nods, and right as the statement is made, Mal comes rushing through the doors, followed by all her friends. 

=

Two weeks have passed since then, and everything has been cleared up. 

Jania had been suspended for 4 weeks, a week for Ben’s endangerment, a week for your intended endangerment, a week for attempting to frame someone, and a week for the unpermitted use of dangerous magic. 

You and Audrey got to remove her as a dorm mate, and although the offer was made to request a new one, you both found it pretty nice to have the extra space all to yourselves one Jania’s bed was out of there. 

Ben was doing fine as well, Mal had woken him up and broken the sleeping curse like everyone expected, and he even said that the whole thing felt like a really great nap, so he wasn’t too upset. 

As an apology for all that had happened, you had invited Harry out for ice cream. You hadn’t really gotten a chance to say sorry for him almost being kicked out of Auradon just for hanging around you, and even though it technically wasn’t your fault, you felt the need to say it anyway. 

So while the two of you sat out on a bench in the castle courtyard, you laid the spoon down in your half eaten cup of ice cream, shifting awkwardly. 

“So, I, um…” you begin, pursing your lips as you try to form a complete sentence. “I don’t think I ever got the chance to apologize for…everything that happened. I knew Jania was making it out to be a big deal, but…I didn’t think she would take it that far.” 

He turns to you with a soft smile, shaking his head. 

“Yeh know there’s no need for an apology, right?”

Blinking, you let out a small huff of breath, staring back down at the delicacy. “Well, obviously not if I’m doing it.” 

Harry giggles, nudging your arm with his. “It wasn’t yer fault, I’m not mad. I like a bit o’ drama every now an’ then.”

“Only you,” you retort, unable to hold back the smile that pulls at your lips. 

But you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Right as you begin to settle down from your internal conflict, something hits you like a brick.

Your sister may or may have not revealed that you were starting to fall in love. With him. 

What should you do? Should you say something? Maybe bury it in a box and hope it never sees the light of day?

“Yeh know, it’s cute how yeh go from super talkative ta super quiet,” he remarks, interrupting your train of thought. 

“Sorry,” you say. “...We’re still friends, right?”

The look of confusion on his face shows that that was not the response he was expecting. 

“...Aye? Why wouldn’t we be?”

“Good.” Your head bobs along with your words. “Great. Yeah, no, I just… y’know, just clarifying.” 

Oh no, you were being super awkward again, like how you were when the two of you first met. 

Although this time, you might actually go dig a hole for yourself if you hit him with finger guns again. 

“This isn’t clarity enough?”

Groaning inwardly, you shove the spoon in your mouth. “No, that’s not how I meant it, just…give me a second to think.”

You can tell he wants to laugh again, but he tries not to for you, so you can spit all of this out. 

Finally, it spills, “I was just…hoping what my sister said the other day didn’t make things…weird?”

Honey, you’re making it weird!

He takes a moment to think back on what it was exactly that Audrey had said, and every second of silence makes you want to be dragged in front of a road. 

“…Ohhh,” he says, forcing down a grin. “Yeh mean when she said ye were in love with someone? An’ tha’ someone might possibly be me?”

It’s an obvious tease. He knew exactly what your sister said, he’s been quoting it word for word in his head for the past two weeks. 

You want to run away from this situation and never look this guy in the eyes again, no muscle in your body wants to actually move. 

“…Well, since we’re tellin’ secrets…” he sits down his ice cream, reaching a hand over to focus your eyes back on him before holding your face in his cool palms. “Guess wha’?”

Clearing your throat to settle the leaping in your chest, you bite, “…What?”

Harry’s eyes sparkle, which should’ve been your first indication that he was up to something. Still, you will yourself not to move, even as he leans ever so closer to your face, though not completely as he’s trying to gauge your reaction.

With no sign of rejection, he finally closes the gap between you, leaving you stunned for a moment as your lips are captured in a soft kiss. You soon melt into the feeling, hands abandoning the cup of ice cream on your lap in favor of grasping the front of his jacket. 

It feels just as magical as you’d imagined it when you thought it would happen all those nights ago. Although, you’re glad it’s longer to become reality. It makes the moment feel even more special, more meaningful. 

When the two of you pull away, his forehead rests against yours, a blissful silence wrapping around the atmosphere like a warm blanket, the warmth spreading through your chest. 

You can’t help but smile, looking up with eyes that shine just as bright as his do, unable to stop the giggling that bubbles in your throat, but soon, he’s laughing along with you. 

The two of you were an usual pair, but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Just a princess and her pirate.  

[asacredthebread]

Sounds Of Serenity •☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam Kiszka x Reader "𝚆𝚊𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚒𝚍𝚍𝚕𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚘𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚂𝚊𝚖'𝚜 𝚜𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚋𝚎𝚍 𝚒𝚜 𝚌𝚘𝚕𝚍. 𝙷𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚞𝚜𝚒𝚌 𝚌𝚘𝚖𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚏𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚎𝚕𝚜𝚎 𝚒𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚖𝚎, 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚍𝚎𝚌𝚒𝚍𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚒𝚗𝚟𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚐𝚊𝚝𝚎." Warnings/Themes: Piano Sam, Sweet Dog Dad Sam WC; 1185

You woke suddenly, the darkness surrounding you thick and heavy. The room was shrouded in a blanket of stillness, and as you blinked against the shadows, disorientation settled in. You turned over in bed, expecting to find Sam beside you. The absence of his warmth startled you; the sheets were cool where he should have been.

For a moment, you lay there, silence deepening your confusion. You could feel the subtle weight of your heart quickening as you scanned the room, looking for any sign of him. The familiar sounds of the night—the soft rustling of Rose moving in her sleep and the distant hum of the city outside—seemed muted, almost as if the world had paused.

Then, you heard it. A melody floated through the thick air, soft yet insistent, a tune you recognized immediately as something Sam would play. It wrapped around you, tugging at the edges of your consciousness, beckoning you to uncover its source.

Pushing the covers aside, you swung your legs over the side of the bed, feeling the coolness of the floor beneath your feet. You didn’t want to disturb the tranquil rhythm of the night, but the music stirred something in you, a mixture of concern and curiosity. Why was he up playing the piano in the middle of the night?

With deliberate steps, you ventured down the shadowy hallway, each footfall a soft whisper against the floorboards. The melody grew stronger with every step, cascading through the air like a gentle wave. It was both comforting and haunting, a sound that filled the home you shared with him.

As you approached the living room, you caught sight of Rose curled up near the piano. Her ears perked up at the sound, her body as still as a statue as she watched Sam with adoring eyes. He sat at the instrument, his long brown hair cascading forward, obscuring part of his face as he lost himself to the music.

You paused at the doorway, captivated by the sight of him—his brow furrowed in concentration, fingers dancing gracefully across the keys. The way he moved was mesmerizing, each note spilling forth as he conjured emotions from the depths of his soul. There was something magical about watching him lose himself in that moment, as if he were casting spells with the notes he played.

A warmth spread in your chest, a mixture of love and longing, as you realized how much you adored this side of him, his vulnerability laid bare through his music. It felt both intimate and profound, as if you were witnessing a part of him that very few had the chance to see.

“Sammy?” you called softly, your voice barely louder than a whisper.

He turned his head, the movement causing a tendril of hair to fall away from his face, revealing those deep brown eyes that always seemed to pierce into the depths of your being. A gentle smile broke across his lips, transforming his expression, as he interrupted the sonorous flow of music.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he replied, his voice low and melodic, wrapping around you like a comforting blanket.

Feeling a mix of relief and curiosity, you stepped closer to him, drawn to the sound and the man behind it. “I didn’t find you in bed... I thought—”

He chuckled softly, casting a glance back at the piano before meeting your gaze once more. “I couldn’t sleep. I needed to play.”

Nodding, you settled onto the couch, resting your elbows on your knees as you watched him intently. The atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with a blend of anticipation and serenity. Sam returned to the piano, his fingers gliding over the keys once more as he resumed the gentle melody. It enveloped you, wrapping around your heart like a warm embrace.

As he played, you took in the scene around you—the way the dim light illuminated the contours of his face, the soft rise and fall of his shoulders as he leaned into the music. Each note resonated deep within you, awakening emotions you didn’t know were lying dormant. The music felt like a conversation, a bridge connecting your hearts in the stillness of the night.

Rose shifted, her head rising as she let out a soft sigh, moving closer to Sam. The dog’s affection was palpable, a reflection of the bond that tied you all together. Sam reached down to scratch behind her ears, and that simple gesture seemed to deepen the warmth in the room. You smiled at the sight—this was the essence of your little family, a trio woven together by love.

“What are you playing?” you inquired, genuinely curious.

He paused, looking up at you with that same soft smile. “Something new. Just feeling it out.”

Your heart swelled. Sam had a gift for transforming the feelings hidden deep within into beautiful, moving melodies. It was one of the things you admired most about him, that his music somehow captured the experiences and emotions of both of you, threading them together in an intimate tapestry.

“Can you play something for me?” you asked, a playful lilt in your voice. “Maybe something we can dance to?”

His smile widened, and you watched as a twinkle sparked in his eyes. “How about this?” He began playing again, this time shifting into a more upbeat tune, fingers flying across the keys with a flourish. Laughter bubbled up inside you, filling the room with a new energy, as you couldn’t help but sway, letting the music carry you.

You got up from the couch and moved closer, your body instinctively responding to the rhythm he created. Sam grinned, the spark in his eyes igniting as he watched you dance. It was a simple moment—two people caught up in the music, a dog watching with sleepy affection—but it felt monumental in its beauty.

Time seemed to stretch, the outside world fading away as you and Sam lost yourselves in the moment. His laughter mingled with the piano’s lively notes, filling the space around you with joy. You could feel the connection between you strengthen, each note binding your souls closer together.

Eventually, the music tapered off, leaving behind a gentle hum in the air. Sam looked at you, breathless and gleaming with joy. “You were amazing,” he said, his voice deep and sincere.

You beamed back at him. “You were the one playing,” you replied playfully, before your heart shifted once again into something softer, more intimate. “I wasn’t sure why you left the bed... but I’m glad I followed you.”

He reached out, taking your hand into his, fingers interlacing effortlessly. “Sometimes, I just need to escape into the music for a bit. But I’m glad you’re here now.”

In that moment, everything fell perfectly into place. Wrapped up in the glow of the piano’s soft light and the lingering notes of your shared laughter, you were reminded of the deep love anchoring you to each other, echoed in the rhythm of the night. The world outside could wait for dawn; for now, it was just you, Sam, and the music.

[rose-of-the-grave]

The Great War: Chapter 8

Pairing: Mattheo Riddle x Reader

This is long, so hopefully that makes up for the wait? January hit me like a freight train so thanks for the patience and I hope you like it ☺️ Also if you're named Cyrus I sincerely apologize. As always I'm the author (please don't repost) <3

Masterlist. Series Masterlist. Read on Ao3

Warnings: Mattheo listens to The Smiths, he never had a proper childhood, "princess", Pansy and Y/N are bffs, Mattheo's middle name reveal(I know there's already a hc for it but I had an idea for the story), Mrs. Parkinson mention, flashbacks, bookstore, ice skating mentioned, idk what else

Word Count: 5648

Description: With everyone gone Y/N goes Christmas shopping with Pansy and gathers intel along the way.

Taglist: @sylveryfire, @dundunmin, @nicoleeblossom, @whoreforfictionalmen18, @lafrone, @lovemiss-vale

There she stood at the station, waving goodbye. Ever since she broke the news they had been asking her how she planned on meeting her parents without leaving on the train. Somehow she managed to convince them that Dumbledore was going to disapparate her off school grounds to a portkey. They had been so supportive of her decision not to come, once they realized why.

-------------------------------------

“Wait, what?” Ron said.

“Y/N, come on! We’re all going to Grimmauld Place! Everyone’s going to be there.”

“I know, I know. My parents want me to come meet them wherever they are currently hiding out. They are only getting more and more anxious about my safety.”

“But Hogwarts is safe? We have Dumbledore, what more could they want?” Harry said.

Before she could respond, Hermione chimed in, “A lot of parents are concerned. War is on the horizon, everyone is on edge. Especially people who will be expected to join him.”

“Right.”

--------------------------------------

The thestrals had already left when she started heading back but she didn’t mind going for a walk in the snow. The path to the castle was a long one but hopefully the views would be worth it. Hogwarts was magical at Christmas time.

Up ahead the castle loomed, snow covering its towers. Even from here she could see the handful of students staying for holidays playing in the snow, casting spells that sent snowballs careening at their friends. The Great Lake had iced over, the shiny surface reflecting the rays of the sun beaming down through the clouds.

Snow clung to her boots and to her coat, a chill seeping through her thick layers. When she reached the entrance she shook off the snow before walking into the warmth. The halls felt haunted from the lack of students milling around. Laughter from outside was repelled by the stone. Even the ghosts had vanished. Each flicker of a light set her on edge and it was still early in the day. She was completely alone and yet there was a presence looming over her, whispering in her ear.

Determined to not let imagined voices scare her she kept a measured pace. She was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors do not yield. When she finally reached the entrance to the Common Room it disappeared. Almost as if it was never there and yet she couldn’t help but look over her shoulder at the predictably empty hallway. A candle flickered out a floor below, catching her attention. A stairway dislodged up above, startling her. It groaned as it shifted from one landing to another. Shaking her head she hurriedly entered the safety of the common room.

After a few hours of being curled up on her bed reading she finally heard a few people shuffling in from having dinner. Her stomach grumbled. It was not the first time that it had done so since she got back.

Sighing, Y/N tumbled off her bed and grabbed a coat to pull over her t-shirt and jeans. A few strands fell into her face, obstructing her view of where her boots were. She shoved them behind her ear. Pulling on her boots she walked out of the room and down the empty staircase. The sounds of voices carrying through the doors of other years.

The sound of her boot heels clicking against the floors echoed against the stone walls setting her on edge. It wasn’t long before Filch would be out on the hunt for stragglers out at night. Without the map she had no hope of avoiding him. Or any teachers for that matter.

The castle was chilly, a draft causing her to pull her jacket closed. She already dearly missed the warmth of her bed all nestled under her blankets. Y/N loved the winter, especially Christmas, but the cold was a different story. Casting lumos, she followed her wand’s light past the Great Hall to the kitchen. It had been ages since they had last visited.

“Meow.”

At the sound of a cat purring she whirled, heart in her throat. Mrs. Norris sat right at the corner, calmly staring dead into her soul, waiting for her master. That damn cat was always getting students in trouble. Not before long she heard Filch’s voice calling for his cat. She tickled the pear and stepped inside the kitchen. She pulled the painting closed shut as softly as possible.

Slowly turning around she found fifty pairs of eyes on her, blinking owlishly.

Awkwardly waving, “Hey. I don’t suppose any of you happen to have some leftovers from dinner?”

Most of them turned back to cleaning and cooking but a handful of them led her over to some plates filled to the top with food. There was a bit of everything, chicken, grapes, pudding, mashed potatoes, and more. Grabbing a plate she put some grapes, a bit of chicken, and a brownie.

“Thank you!”

Nodding gratefully she moved to leave the way she came, pressing her ear to the painting to make sure Filch wasn’t right outside. Y/N carefully pushed it open, stepping out of the kitchen and closing it behind her.

“Having a midnight snack are we?”

She jumped, her soul leaving her body for a split second. Turning to face him she glared at his amused face. He began to laugh.

Balancing the plate in one hand she slapped his arm with the other. “That was not funny!”

“Oh, it was hilarious princess.” He chuckled at her indignant expressions, nose all scrunched up.

Blood boiling she whisper yelled. “Don’t call me that!”

With a smug smile on his face he plucked a grape off her plate and tossed into his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. A wolfish grin on his lips that she was definitely not looking at.

She yanked her plate away, shielding it with a hand. “Hey! Hands off! Get your own.”

“But yours taste better.”

“Fuck off.”

She stormed off, him calling after her, “See ya princess!”

Not turning around she flipped him off, coat swishing behind her.

--------------------------------------

Hedwig’s snowy white wings beat against the wind, her soft coat of feathers blending into the flurries. The only touch of color was the red ribbon tying a letter to her ankle. Hermione had sent a letter almost immediately after arriving at the Burrow, filling her in on Harry’s conversation with Remus about the Unbreakable Vow and Snape. Now she wasn’t quite sure what to believe. The Draco she knew wasn’t capable of that but the Draco she knew was long gone. And then there was Pansy. She had been hiding something that day. What, she did not know, but it seemed odd considering that Katie Bell found the cursed necklace only a few minutes later.

As much as she trusted Dumbledore, she also knew that Snape was never quite trustworthy. And yet every time they suspected him of something they were wrong. Dead wrong. But then, the same was true of Draco in second year.

Y/N wrote back immediately, voicing her concerns. If Harry was right, if Dumbledore’s judgement couldn’t be trusted, then they all were doomed.

As if on cue, the sky darkened. Clouds covering the dim light of the sun that had been fighting to be seen. She tightened her grip on her jacket, shielding herself from the gust of wind blowing in her face. Scanning the horizon before her, she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. The scent of snow and pine needles overwhelmed her senses.

She turned away and headed down the stairs, the sound of her boots against the stone was the only sound. A dark figure on a far off tower moved, drawing her attention. Even from so far away, she knew who it was. With every footstep that brought her nearer to him, the more she could hear. The familiar melodies drew her attention. She had prepared for this.

“...And if a double decker bus crashes into us…”

“I love The Smiths.”

The music came to a halt. The only sound was the wind whistling through the distant trees.

“What?” He turned to face her with his brown eyes and a face that seemed wary. It was laughable really. She was skilled but he was the son of Voldemort. His very name inspired fear. And if that didn’t do the trick then the stark resemblance he bore to his mother was more than enough.

“I said ‘I love The Smiths’.” She walked over to where he sat. “‘To die by your side is such a heavenly way to die’. ‘There Is a Light That Never Goes Out’? It’s my favorite.”

Y/N crouched to the ground, fully expecting him to get up and leave but instead he scooted over to give her room to sit. Without saying a word he unpaused his music player, Morrissey’s voice filling the space between them.

Leaning her elbows on her bent knees she glanced over at the boy next to her. Before he could catch her she faced forward, staring out into the distance. The tower overlooked the Black Lake, the iced over surface a shiny reflection of the trees surrounding it and the clouds above. Storm clouds were rolling in, bringing with them a promise of rain that would soon freeze into snow. The rumbling of thunder echoed through the castle. Sitting so near to him she could feel his arm brush hers ever so lightly through her coat. The warmth calling to her. But she couldn’t, she shouldn’t.

Exhaustion filled her weary bones, her eyes struggling to stay open. But here she was. Sitting next to the enemy while listening to music, completely at peace with each other’s presence. She didn’t want this to end. Not now when she was finally making progress. They weren’t about to braid each other’s hair and spill their deepest, darkest secrets but he was letting her sit here when usually he sat alone. She felt like jumping for joy.

He pulled out a cigarette and the lighter that she had completely forgotten about. It had been sitting in that bottom drawer, or so she thought, until she checked one day and it had vanished.

She chuckled, “I always wondered where that thing went.”

He lit the joint before pocketing the lighter, the tip of it sitting right by his mouth. She very quickly shifted her gaze up to his eyes that sparkled in amusement.

“I’m surprised you kept it.”

“Well what else was I supposed to do? I didn’t want anyone to stumble across it. It could be cursed!” She retorted.

“That still doesn’t explain why you didn’t turn it over to a teacher. You kept it.” He took a drag, the smoke drifting off in the breeze. He narrowed his eyes, “Admit it, you are just a little bit obsessed with me.”

“Me! Obsessed with you? Never.”

“Uhuh.”

“Nuhuh!” She shook her head.

“Oh, please. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking.” He leaned in until his face was inches away from hers, every syllable punctuated. “Obsessed.”

She leapt to her feet, hands on her hips. “Oh yeah? Well how about the way you seem to show up wherever I go. Stalker much?”

He scoffed, standing up as well. “Rich words from someone who just so happened to come across me here. Don’t think I haven’t seen the way you follow me around from time to time. You’re spying on me!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

She rolled her eyes in an attempt to disguise how hard her heart was pounding or how she had just noticed how close they were standing. His face was mere inches from hers. Here she was, thinking she had been getting away with it. Her entire mission was compromised. There was no way she was going to keep this up if he had clocked her so quickly. But then again.

She cocked her head to the side, “If you’re so convinced that I’m following you, why haven’t you reported it, hm?”

He shrugged, “Maybe I like the attention.” And then the bastard winked at her, finally taking a step back.

Her nostrils flared slightly. He was the most aggravating boy she had ever had the misfortune of meeting. She hated the side of herself that he brought out, the side her friends saw so rarely. She was quiet, observant. She was the girl who blended into the background while her friends got the attention. She was not the girl arguing with a boy she hated on top of a tower. She was not the girl who lied to her closest friends.

The sooner she could be that girl again, the better.

--------------------------

The blaring of her alarm shocked her out of a deep slumber. Light cascaded through the window curtains indicating that it was time to get out of bed. It was all so strange with no grumbling from the others. The empty beds surrounding her own left her feeling like a piece of driftwood in the ocean, adrift with no sign of help. Her blankets failed to stave away the chill seeping into her bones. Her eyes fluttered shut, desperate for much-needed rest.

That wasn’t in the plans for her unfortunately. Y/N had promised to meet Pansy after breakfast to go shopping. Exams had loomed over her, tearing away her energy, leaving her unable to think about the rapidly approaching holidays. She hadn’t gotten her friends a single gift.

Y/N reluctantly flipped her blanket off of her body, shivers immediately wracked her body. In an attempt to stay warm she quickly pulled on some clothes and prepared for the day ahead of her. If she was lucky a heating charm would do the trick. Walking to the village was normally something she did with Harry, Ron, and Hermions. It was a weekly ritual. But she couldn’t refuse when Pansy asked this of her, she needed their friendship. It was her only hope.

She grabbed her bag, stuffing money and her notebook in it. Without even a glance at the letter from Professor Dumbledore she laced up her boots, fastened her coat, and tucked her hair beneath a wool hat her mom had given her a couple years back. It brought her comfort whenever she thought about her parents on the run. They would probably be in South America right now. It had been five months since she arrived home to nothing but a note that floated to the ground at her feet. It had been the final nail in her coffin. She was well and truly alone.

When she turned around the corner and began to walk down the staircase she spotted Pansy by the bottom. She was an island in the middle of Y/N’s tumultuous sea.

“Pans!”

The girl turned around, her skirt twirling around her knees. “Y/N! Hey.”

She smiled, “Hey.”

Pansy had come prepared, albeit fashionably so, with her thick pairs of tights beneath her skirt as well as the multiple layers of shirts combined with a fur-lined jacket. She wore leather boots with high heels that easily added four inches to her height. Her short, black hair was tucked underneath her matching fur-lined hat, the ends sticking out from under it. Dark red lipstick coated her lips and her dark blue eyes were framed with smokey eyeshadow. Then there was Rose with an old pair of boots, two pairs of leggings layered on top of each other, a sweater, and a coat. She wasn’t wearing any makeup. Before she had felt perfectly presentable but now she had become all the more aware of her flaws.

“You look really pretty.” Y/N breathed.

The girl’s lips curled up in a smile but her eyes did not reflect it. Giving a quick perusal of Y/N’s outfit, she smiled “You look really good too.” Y/N barely resisted the temptation to scoff. “Are you ready?”

“Of course!”

Pansy linked her arm through Y/N’s, dragging her out of the castle walls and into the courtyard. A thick blanket of fluffy, white snow covered the stone with not a foot track in sight. Every step was arduous. The snow clinging to their boots with each step until they reached the covered bridge across the river.

“You know,” Pansy said, “I always underestimate how difficult it is to walk in the snow.”

Y/N laughed, “It might have something to do with you wearing heeled boots.”

“Beauty is pain, right?” Suddenly she went silent before Y/N heard an “Ow! Shit!” Whirling around she spotted her not far behind, laying face down in the frigid snow.

Shaking her head, she began to trudge over to her. “You okay?”

A pair of piercing blue eyes glared up at her in mock anger, “Do I look like I’m okay?”

Y/N reached out a hand and helped her up. Pansy stood upright, brushing the snow off of her tights and skirt, the dust falling back to the ground like it had never been displaced. She kept on walking, Y/N not far behind, until they reached the crossroads. A sign post stood upright, icicles hanging down from the wood. One arrow pointed in the direction they had just come from, the other directed them forwards, to Hogsmeade.

Glancing behind them, Y/N spotted the familiar towers, covered in snow, that had been her home for five and a half years. So many memories were contained within its walls. So much laughter and sneaking around. She would miss it when they graduated.

“Come on, hurry up!” Pansy shouted from further ahead. Y/N smiled before turning and running to catch up.

“I’m coming!”

The two of them hurried along the path, eager to reach the warmth of the shops. A chill had penetrated through their many layers. Y/N’s toes and fingers had gone numb, no thanks to her gloves and thick socks.

Pansy blew into her hands, rubbing them together. “I can’t believe we haven’t run into anyone else.

“Yeah.” Y/N responded, realizing how alone they were. Her bag thumped against her leg with each step, weighing her shoulder down. She swung it over onto her other shoulder before continuing, “Maybe some people went earlier?”

Pansy hummed, changing the subject, “So, what are you planning on getting?”

“Oh, just some presents. I have a few that are on hold that I need to pick up but otherwise I’ll be browsing the store in case something catches my eye.” Y/N explained. “I got Hermione a book on the history of arithmancy.”

“Aren’t you taking that class?”

Y/N nodded, “We’re both taking it actually. I also got Harry this new pair of shoes that are designed to enhance speed. He keeps on saying he wants to be faster on the ground as well as in the air. Ron I wasn’t so sure about. Maybe something chess related? I’ll definitely get him some candy.”

“Right.” Pansy said.

“So what are you getting for the boys?”

“I honestly have no idea.” She sighed. “Draco and Theo basically have everything they need? It’s always tough buying them gifts when they will just buy themselves everything.”

“What about Riddle? Or Daphne and Millicent?” Y/N asked.

Pansy kicked at the snow in front of her, “Millicent is easy enough. I always get her something for her cats. And Daphne said she wanted a journal and some little trinkets.”

“And Riddle?”

Pansy paused, shifting from one foot to the other. “I don’t know…”

“How about some CD’s?”

Her friend gave her a slightly confused look, “What do you mean?”

“He likes music doesn’t he? You could give him a CD of a favorite band or something?”

“Okay, this is going to sound bad but I actually had no idea that he liked music.”

Flabbergasted, Y/N exclaimed, “Are you serious? Everytime I run into him he’s listening to music. Last week when I accidentally interrupted him up on the North Tower he was listening to The Smiths. He also, if I remember correctly, was listening to The Cure?”

“Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him listen to music.” Pansy gave her a puzzled look, like she was trying to figure something out. Her eyes scanned her face before continuing, “Then again, he and Theo along with Draco will hang out a lot together smoking and just relaxing. I’m not a fan of the smell so I stay away. It’s the same with Daphne and Millicent. Even Blaise doesn’t go out with them. It’s their ritual in a sense.”

Y/N filed away that knowledge for later. It may become useful. She had always wondered about Draco and Pansy after they stopped hanging out. All of a sudden they had a new friend group and Y/N had hers. Outside of Harry and Draco’s weird rivalry their paths had never crossed, even in class they kept to themselves. Now that she and Pansy were friends she got to see more of what their group was like but she was still an outsider looking in. She was still the enemy to most of them.

Bumping her shoulder against Pansy’s, “Now you do have something to get him.”

Her friend smiled back, bumping her shoulder into Y/N’s. “Guess so.”

Just when Y/N was about to comment on how long they had been walking she spotted the village’s welcome sign not far ahead of them. And just beyond the sign stood the stone buildings, snow hanging down from the ledges. The roads were well worn, the snow melted where people had packed it down. A few shops down stood the Candy Shoppe. On their way out she would stop in and grab Ron some of his favorites.

Pulling on her coat, Pansy pointed her attention towards the bookstore. The bell rang as they dusted the snow off of their clothes, shedding their outside layers in favor of the fire by the cafe. The chairs were old upholstered relics that had seen many years of students warming their feet while they sipped on their hot cocoa and read a book. Soft music played over the murmurs of shoppers browsing the collection of books.

The soft leather bound book covers are all neatly organized. Sitting on the shelves just waiting to catch the eye of a reader browsing for their next obsession. Y/N ached to scour the three floors of books. Somewhere among the other books was her next favorite book.

Sensing her friend’s restlessness, Pansy insisted, “Go. I’ll watch over our things.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I have some hot cocoa and a nice warm fire. I’ll be fine.”

Grinning excitedly, like a kid waking up on Christmas morning, Y/N began to sift through the selections.

When she reached the stairs and still had had no luck, she gave a regretful glance in Pansy’s direction, before cautiously climbing up the rickety staircase. The wood creaked underneath her, protesting. She imagined that it was at least four hundred years old judging off of how long this store had been open. Their collection spanned centuries. Some of these books were from before Merlin’s time.

Light filtered through the musty windows, casting shadows that danced on the wooden boards underneath her boots. In the distance a bell rang. Curious, she glanced out the window which overlooked the main street. Children played in the snow, throwing snow carelessly. Laughter rang in the air. Her heart clenched as her mind was bombarded with memories of playing in the snow without a care. A blond haired boy teasing her and a little girl with raven black hair standing up to him. Flashes of color while they played with powers that they were still unable to control.

“Y/N, Draco, Pansy!”

She and her friends ran to her mom who stood in the doorway.

“The three of you will catch your death of cold!” Her mom scolded them, fussing over their clothes. That was a long time ago. Back when fear wasn’t a constant shadow looming over her and her childhood friends still hung out with her.

Y/N shook her head, dispelling the memory, focusing on her present instead. Looking away from the window she continued her search for a book. Her eyes scanned for a familiar author but came up empty. Until out of the corner of her eye something caught her attention. It was the long-awaited sequel to a book she had read two years ago.

Reaching up for it, her fingers brushed the bottom corner of the binding. If she could just get her nails in on either side of the book she might be able to pull it out. She tried in vain. The book wasn’t coming out from its spot on the shelf, not without assistance. Y/N was about to whip out her wand when a hand came out of nowhere and plucked it from off the shelf.

“Thank…” The words were ripped from her throat when she saw who had helped her just now. She gave him a tight smile. “Thanks.” Before grabbing the book from his hands. She should have known he wouldn’t be so kind. Instead of handing the book to her he moved backwards, lifting the book out of her reach. Artfully dodging her every attack.

“I really expected better from you. Are you sure you’re a Quidditch player?” He teased.

Growling, she feinted left before diving right, stumbling over her own feet when he changed hands. She watched as he flipped through the book, pausing in the middle and began to read it aloud.

“As he lifted my hips…” He gave her a mocking look. “What on earth have you been reading?”

“It's. A. Romance!” Every word punctuated by yet another grab for the book, her last one was successful. He had become too stunned to do anything.

Finally in possession of her book again, she whirled around and marched towards the stairs leaving him standing in the middle of the bookstore. His dark curls ruffled from playing keep the book away from Y/N and his brown eyes glazed over, unseeing. His cheeks were just the tiniest bit flushed, a hint of pink dusting them. The Slytherin stood there like a statue, the world continuing to move.

After a minute, he followed behind her just in time to see her and Pansy walk out of the store arm in arm. He wondered if she had bought the book. The winter winds bit at his face when he finally exited the bookstore, two blobs of color walking towards Honeydukes.

“You know, I don’t think I’ve been here in ages.” Pansy exclaimed upon entering the famous candy shop. “My mother is always telling me not to have any candy.”

Y/N gave her an understanding look. Mrs. Parkinson had been a looming figure in her nightmares as a child. Her insistence on Pansy being the perfect child had made their home feel as cold as the Arctic, shivering at every draft, every glare thrown across the dinner table. The Parkinsons dealt in quiet fury and silent judgement.

“Well, you can have plenty of candy today.”

The Slytherin girl grinned. “I have wondered what some of these taste like. Is it true that Bertie’s Botts have every flavor? Is there really one that tastes like earwax?”

Y/N nodded. “There’s even one that tastes like vomit. Ron once got a furball flavored one. He kept on saying that Crookshanks must have had something to do with it.” She giggled at the memory of him spitting out the candy, running to the bathroom. The taste stayed for weeks according to him.

“Crookshanks?”

“Hermione’s cat.”

“Ah.” Pansy gave the box of Bertie’s a considering look, her fingertips barely touching the packaging as if it might bite her, “I think I’ll stick with chocolate frogs.”

She laughed, “Safe choice. Just make sure they don’t hop away!” Before walking over to the counter for a bag. The books in her satchel bumped her leg with each step. She was beginning to regret not asking them to be delivered to the castle.

The bell rang, signaling yet another child hellbent on a sugar rush big enough to put themselves into a coma.

“Mattheo!” Pansy voice rang out. So, not a kid wanting their weight in candy.

She turned around to see Pansy handing him a bag for candy while he shook his head.

“Come on, try it.”

He sighed but took the bag. All three of them wandered around, Pansy taking a little bit of everything and Riddle inspecting it all but taking very little. The other kids who were all very excitedly yelling and having fun quieted when he got near, parting to give him room. Every last one of them.

Once they all had paid, they walked out of the store, the volume and energy returning as it became clear he was leaving. She wondered if it was the parents or if the kids all simply knew. Was it him they were scared of? Or his father’s image?

The walk back to the castle was much faster, the time accelerated by a discussion on how much they all disliked Professor Binns’ History of Magic class. The material itself was interesting but the class was boring.

“I can’t believe they’re making you take it all over again.” She shook her head. The only thing that got her through that class was Hermione.

“That’s what he gets for skipping and always getting detention.”

Riddle shrugged. “I’m no worse than Theo.”

Pansy laughed. “That’s not true and you know it. Unlike you, he actually passes his classes.”

“I pass my classes!”

“So you’re retaking History of Magic for shits and giggles?”

He elbowed her in the side. “Enough about school.”

“Fine, then let’s talk about how you are one detention away from being cut from the team.”

“Seriously?” Y/N asked. She knew he got detention a lot but was he actually at the limit for being cut Quidditch? Hermione had looked up the rule last year before Umbridge had taken matters into her own hands and it had been something like no more than ten detentions.

“Yeah.” His mouth curled into a scowl, his eyes darkening. “Snape gave me a warning yesterday. Apparently he will have no choice but to give my spot to some ‘promising’ third year if I keep this up.”

“Hmm, maybe you should actually start behaving then.”

“What, me? Behave?” He gasped, “Mischief is my middle name.”

Pansy snorted. “I thought it was Cyrus.”

He glared at her, “Shut. It.”

Y/N laughed, “Mattheo Cyrus Riddle?”

Riddle groaned, head tossed back in frustration. His forehead drawn tight, eyes shut. “My mother was obsessed with me having a middle name that followed the Black family tradition. Cyrus just happened to be her choice.”

“But Cyrus? Of all the star names she could have chosen she went with Cyrus?”

“And it has haunted me ever since.”

Pansy clapped her hands together, “Do the others know?”

“Draco and Theo do, but no one else.” He leveled her with a glare, his brown eyes turned to stone. Through gritted teeth he said, “And it will stay that way.”

She shifted backwards, breaking eye contact. Y/N kept walking, her bag pulling her left shoulder down. Sighing, she switched it over to the right shoulder and breathed a sigh of relief. While the two Slytherins kept walking beside her in silence, she rotated her left shoulder, the pain slowly vanishing.

A faint silver mist lifted from her lips with each breath. The cold air caused her lips to dry. Snow fell gently on her hair and lashes, blocking her sight. Lifting out a gloved hand, Y/N watched in fascination as little snowflakes softly landed on the wool fibers. The delicate designs, each different from the other, were stunning. She let out a soft puff of air in shock when her other hand was yanked, pulling her away from where she had been standing. Tearing her hand from his, she continued to walk alongside them, not meeting his gaze. Instead she pondered her plans for the next few days. Ice skating sounded fun but it would be dangerous to go alone. One crack in the ice and then she would be plunged into its icy depths.

“Hey Pans, would you want to go ice skating tomorrow?”

Her friend glanced over at her, smiling, “Sure! I haven’t gone in ages.”

“Really? We used to go all the time as kids?”

She shrugged, “We stopped.”

Y/N nodded to herself, images of them as kids skating over ice dancing in her memory.

“I’ve never been.” Riddle said.

Both girls gasped, exchanging looks before saying, “What?”

“How is that even possible?” Y/N asked.

“Draco’s parents were more focused on keeping me hidden. When I was eventually sent to live with Theo and his family, they lived in Italy so there wasn’t any place to go.” He lowered his voice, muttering more to himself, “Not that his father ever would have allowed it.”

“You should come with us.” Pansy said, “If that’s okay?”

“I’m sure Y/N would rather walk over burning coals, right princess?”

She gave him a disgruntled look before shrugging, “Sure, why not?”

A startled pair of brown eyes blinked at her in shock. She was just as taken aback by her own words.

The front door of the castle was now only a few steps away, the towers looming over them. Snow fell on them, the faint dusting sparkling in his hair.

“See you.” She pushed open the door, ignoring Peeves and his arsenal of water balloons, ready to douse the children already shivering from the cold. One of them went splat right behind her, just barely missing her.

Y/N was ready for a nice cold bath and some dinner.

Chapter 9>>

(Let me know if you want to be tagged in upcoming chapters!)

[sjmromanceweek]

Azriel is as cold as night. How would he treat Y/N? Tell @sjmromanceweek running Feb 8th- Feb 14th!

Artist: atlassart

[azrielsrealmate]

if I don’t put my hands over you right now…

azriel x reader

summary: your night in Rita’s was supposed to end with Azriel between your legs, not Azriel beating up your abusive ex.

warnings: suggestiveness, fight, blood, injuries, dark themes if you squint, SLIGHT trauma from an abusive relationship.

word count: 2.7k

Yk when at the High Lords meetings Azriel just snaps when Eris speaks about Mor..? Yeah, I liked that scene way too much. So here this is😸

Rita’s is packed, the heat radiating from every dancing body, the rhythm of the music pulsing through the floor and vibrating in your bones. You've spent nearly half an hour letting yourself go to the rhythm, your hips swaying in time, your eyes half-closed as Mor laughs and pulls you closer to the crowd. You're intoxicated, not just by the liquor you've consumed, but by the power you feel in being so aware of your body, so heated and alive in this dress that hugs you tightly and leaves so little to the imagination.

You spent hours getting ready. Three hours in the bathroom, meticulously shaving, slathering yourself with coconut creams until your skin was soft and fragrant, every detail of you arranged with almost cruel precision. And while part of you did it just to look good, to feel pretty, you know there’s something more. A deeper desire, the real reason you spent three hours locked away like a maniac.

The reason hasn’t taken his eyes off you since he first saw you that night. Azriel. It's always been Azriel.

The push and pull between you two has been constant, furtive glances and subtle touches, half-spoken words and smiles that hide more than they reveal.

You know he’s watching you, you feel it even when you’re not looking, a sensation that burns the back of your neck, and anticipation grows with every passing moment, tingling under your skin. A pang in your gut—intuition, they call it—you think something is going to happen. Naively, you think it might be good, really good, a reward for those three hours in the bathroom pampering yourself.

The music shifts to a slower, deeper rhythm, and the heat in the room seems to intensify. And you really can’t take it anymore, your breath is quick and shallow, and you hate the thought of breathing in the scent of sweat from constantly moving bodies, so you decide it’s time for a break, for a cold drink to refresh you.

You pull away from Mor with a smile and head to the bar, enjoying the slight coolness that the nonexistent breeze offers. At least there aren't people blocking everything in your view anymore.

Just as you're about to order your drink, you feel it. That familiar scent of cedar and mist, an aroma that always makes you turn your head, that wraps you in a feeling of safety, of desire, and something darker. Your heart beats faster with it, urging you to be afraid, but you're smarter than that. And then, the hands. Firm, confident, and so large on your hips that you fantasize about what they could do to you, they settle on your hips and pull you back against a hard, unyielding chest.

Though his chest isn’t the only thing that’s incredibly hard.

You laugh softly, knowing who it is without even having to look. You can feel the strength in him, the tension built up in the way he pulls you so desperately against him. He’s so close, and he leans down so that his mouth is right by your ear, and when he speaks, his voice is a low growl that wraps around every inch of your skin, making you exhale, your skin prickling. You press your thighs together.

“If I don’t put my hands on you right now, I’m going to put them around the neck of every man looking at you.”

The whole world seems to stop for a second. Your breath catches, and the pulse in your throat pounds. You knew there would be consequences tonight, but the reality of it hits you like a punch. Azriel, always controlled, always restrained, is on the edge, and the idea of that control breaking… is intoxicating. You smell it, so thick you can taste it, musky. God, you’d give anything to have it on your tongue for real.

“You don’t have to be so dramatic,” you murmur, but your voice trembles, betraying you. Because deep down, you like it. You like that he’s so close, that he’s so vulnerable with you, that he feels something so fierce that it drives him to act. Your words seem to only provoke him further because the grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into the fabric of your dress.

“Dramatic doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he whispers against your ear, his warm breath trailing over your skin. “You… have no idea what you’re doing to me.”

The trembling inside you turns into a wave, and you can barely contain it. It’s an effort not to roll your eyes in pure pleasure, not to rub your thighs together to get some friction.

“And what are you going to do about it?” you whisper, challenging him. Although to you, it’s not a challenge, it’s an offering. So full of need that you have to mask it.

Azriel doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he turns you, gently but firmly, until you’re face to face with him. His eyes, as dark as the night itself, are lit with a mix of emotions that make you tremble. Slowly, his gaze lowers to your dress, the slight leopard lace that gathers at the top, just enough to give him a tantalizing view of the skin you so carefully prepared.

“This dress…” he murmurs, his voice deep and laden with meaning. “It’s on purpose. You knew what it would do, what it would do to me.” His hand moves up, slowly, from your hip to the small portion of bare skin on your shoulder, brushing it with a tenderness that contrasts with the fire in his eyes. “If you wore it for me, then I have the right to take it off you.”

Your lips part, words trapped in your throat as you try to process the intensity of what he’s saying. But before you can respond, his mouth is on yours, stealing your breath, demanding more than you thought you were willing to give.

The kiss is hard, fierce. His tongue claims your mouth as his own, exploring and savoring; you barely have time to keep up with him.

His hands roam over your body, exploring the skin you’ve prepared for him, and you cling to his shoulders because your knees are trembling. It’s as if the world around you disappears, leaving only Azriel, his mouth on yours, his body firm against yours, and the fire that heats your skin and spreads to his.

When he finally pulls away, you’re both panting, and he looks at you as if he can’t decide whether he wants to kiss you again or carry you out of Rita’s right then and there.

“Let’s go,” he says, his voice more of an order than a request, and although his tone is firm, there’s a plea in his eyes. A need that mirrors your own. And it’s completely overwhelming, you can only nod. And your legs move when your mind is still dazed from the kiss, his hand on your waist as if he can sense that.

Azriel comes to a sudden stop, just before you can cross the threshold of Rita’s, when a cold, venom-laden voice rises above the club's noise.

“Already got another man?”

Your heart stops for an instant, the heat of euphoria fading as you recognize the figure approaching. Tall, dark-haired, and gray-eyed, who used to look at you with something you believed was love, but now only shows resentment. Your face hardens at the sight of your ex, and a familiar tension settles in your chest, a reminder of the scars you still carry.

Azriel notices immediately. His grip on your waist tightens, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You can feel the tension in him, the way his body prepares to act, to protect you. Azriel’s shadows, always lurking, slip across the floor between you like snakes, dark and threatening until one of them coils around your shoulders.

“We broke up over a year ago, get over it,” you say, your voice tense but firm, maintaining your composure despite the turmoil inside you. You have no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing how much his presence affects you, how much Azriel’s grip on your waist is doing for you.

But he laughs, a bitter, hollow sound that makes your stomach churn. He takes a threatening step toward you, and though your body wants to retreat, you stand firm. You know this game. You know he’ll drink and get drunk on the slight fear in your eyes, he’ll go crazy if you back away, he’ll think he has more power than he does, so you force yourself to stay still.

His fists clench, and you see Azriel’s gaze turn lethal, a flash of cold fury that he barely contains.

Your ex doesn’t give you time to respond, the gray of his eyes fixed on Azriel, and his voice comes out filled with disdain, as sharp as a knife. “You’ll find out soon enough, she’s not worth it. All that pretty face, and she’s not even going to suck your…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence. He can’t. Because the moment those venomous words leave his mouth, Azriel moves, faster than a blink. You feel the heat of his body leave you for an instant, and then, the sound of impact. A dull, heavy thud reverberates in the air, and you see your ex stagger backward, blood spurting from his nose.

But Azriel doesn't stop there.

The wild gleam in his eyes tells you everything you need to know: he's not going to stop. He doesn't want to stop. With lethal efficiency, he launches himself at your ex again, his fist finding its mark over and over, with a fury that has been simmering for too long, now unleashed in an unstoppable torrent.

And you... do nothing to stop him. You could always say you were paralyzed, that you didn't know what to do, that it caught you by surprise because you remain there, your feet rooted to the ground as you watch Azriel destroy the man who had hurt you time and again. You should scream, you should intervene, but you don't. Because a part of you—that dark and wounded part—feels a perverse satisfaction watching him get what he deserves. Each blow seems to erase one of the invisible scars he left you, each groan of pain he emits sounds like justice for the years you lost with him.

Blood splatters the ground, and your ex tries to cover himself, but it’s futile. Azriel is unstoppable, his face transformed into a mask of pure rage, his shadows swirling around him like frenzied beasts, hungry for more.

But then, a giant figure bursts onto the scene, a whirlwind of muscle and strength. Cassian.

In an instant, the General of Rhys’s armies is upon them, his arms encircling Azriel and pulling him back with brutal force. But Azriel fights, his body trying to break free, desperate to keep punishing that man, to make him pay for every word, every insult, every wound he caused you.

"Azriel, stop!" Cassian’s voice booms above the chaos, laden with authority, but also concern. Cassian tightens his grip, his wings spreading to block everyone else’s view, his expression hardened as he uses all his strength to contain his brother.

You barely see it, but you hear him growl, a sound that doesn’t seem human, and for a terrible second, you think he might even turn on Cassian. His shadows swirl, dark and violent, but then, in an almost imperceptible movement, you see Azriel close his eyes, taking deep breaths, struggling with himself, fighting to control his rage.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Azriel relaxes enough for Cassian to release him, though his eyes are still blazing with that fury that makes you tremble. The shadows slowly recede, as if they still want to attack but obey their master.

Your ex lies on the ground, gasping, his face barely recognizable from the beating, but you know he’s conscious. You feel the weight of everyone’s gaze, but you can only look at Azriel. At Azriel, who continues to look at you as if you’re the only person in his world, as if his vision had narrowed to just you.

Cassian holds him by the shoulders, keeping him in place, though it’s no longer necessary. The fight is over, but the air is still charged with tension, so thick that if anyone decided to push too far, it would shatter with the sound of another broken bone.

Azriel steps away from Cassian, his eyes never leaving yours. He takes a step toward you, then another, until he’s standing in front of you, so close you can feel his breath on your skin.

"Are you okay?" His voice is a whisper, rough from the rage, but also filled with that unshakable concern he’s always had for you.

And for the first time in what seems like an eternity, you feel you can breathe again. You nod.

Cassian steps aside, giving one last piercing look at the man on the floor before giving you some space. Azriel remains unmoving, his eyes scanning every inch of your face, searching for any sign that this has affected you more than you admit. But all he sees is your determination.

"Let’s go," you finally say, your voice louder than you expected. You take his hand, his bloodied and bruised knuckles against your skin, and guide him out of Rita’s, away from the curious gazes and the chaos left behind.

————————————

The silence is almost overwhelming as you close the door of your apartment behind you. Azriel stands at the entrance, his eyes still dark with fury, but now the exhaustion and guilt begin to show in his expression. He says nothing, just watches you as you head to the bathroom and fetch the first aid kit. The sound of running water fills the space, but the tension between you is almost tangible.

When you return, you find him standing in the middle of the living room, his gaze lost on the floor. You don’t say anything as you gently take his hand, guiding him to the couch. Azriel allows himself to be led, his wings drooping and his posture relaxed now that the adrenaline has worn off. You can feel lighter yourself.

"Let me see," you whisper, barely a breath. You hold his hand with a softness that contrasts with the brutality of what you just witnessed. His knuckles are bloodied and his hands tremble slightly, though you’re not sure if it’s from the fight or from what he feels now.

He says nothing as you clean the blood, his gaze fixed on your hands, watching every move as if it’s the first time someone has cared for him this way. As if he’s never experienced tenderness before, and the way you’re wiping the blood from his knuckles is presenting it to him on a silver platter. It’s not the first time you’ve done this, but the intimacy of this moment, after what happened, feels different.

"I’m sorry," he murmurs finally, his voice barely a whisper. "I shouldn’t have lost control like that."

Your hands pause for a moment, your eyes meeting his. You see the guilt there, mixed with that smoldering rage that never seems to fully disappear.

"Don’t apologize," you reply firmly, resuming your task. "He deserved it. And... I’m not going to lie, Azriel. Watching him get what he deserved... it wasn’t so bad."

He looks at you, surprised by the confession, but something in your words seems to calm him. He accepts your response, though you know a part of him will always blame himself for losing control. It’s what makes him who he is.

When you finish cleaning and bandaging his knuckles, you keep his hand in yours for a moment longer, savoring the warmth you’ve always found in him. Azriel, who has always been your rock, your protector, now allows himself to be cared for, letting you see that vulnerability he so rarely shows.

"Thank you," he says softly, meeting your gaze with eyes now velvety as he looks at you without worrying about anything else, and his other hand reaching to caress your cheek with a gentleness that contrasts with the brutality of the night.

You don’t respond because there’s no need. Instead, you lean into him, allowing yourself to rest in the warmth of his embrace, in the comfort only he can offer you. Outside, the world keeps spinning, but here, in this small corner of your life, everything is calm.

[thehighladywrites]

— “I gotta tell you something…”

☀︎ — pairing: nerd azriel x bimbo reader

☀︎ — summary: a peek into your conversations with nerd az💗

☀︎ — warnings: mature language, crack, azriel using 😄 unironically ugh he is so cute 😞😞😞

☀︎ — amara’s note: i loved making this help

series masterlist

🏷️: @vbbaby-girl @whatdoyxumean @honeybeeboobaa@thescooby-gang @linoisqt @mischiefmanagers @tortured-artists @to-be-written @sidthedollface2 @stasiereads @amara-moonlight @scoobies @caroline-books @kalulakunundrum @meshelleexplosionmurder @danikamariewrites @claireswritingcorner @redbleedingrose @jeannineee @nocasdatsgay @liati2000 @teenageeggscissorslawyer @impossibelle @stonerpersona @dreamlandreader @djaaaa @cadiawrites @thelov3lybookworm @polli05927 @ahitsalyssa @evergreenlark @thegirlintheshadows101 @saltedcoffeescotch @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @readychilledwine @daycourtofficial @azriels-shadowsinger @sapphicmsmarvel @hungryforbatboys @justasillylittlegoofyguy @luvmoo @emryb @meritxellao @mochibabycakes @artists-ally @azzieslittlebunny @berryzxx @sweetshifter @lilah-asteria @hannzoaks @throneofsmut @lipstickmarks

[narratedbyshama]

Long Way Home [Part I]

[Azriel x Reader fanfic]

Synopsis: Y/n is the daughter of a healer in the city of Velaris. After a small incident, she moves to the House of the Wind to work for the High Lord, Rhysand. Everyone in the house seems to welcome her except Azriel, the second in command. Even though he is just blankly polite and does not acknowledge her much, she can't help but fall for him. Does Azriel return her feelings or remain unfeelingly aloof?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

Part I

My first glimpse of Azriel had been when he arrived at my doorstep, searching for the High Lord. 

My father was famous in Velaris as a healer, and Rhysand had crashed through the front door—heavily injured and seeking the services of him. Unfortunately for him, I was alone in the house as father had gone to the mountains outside Velaris for an errand. I was mainly a chemist, researching herbs, concocting potions and salves; but I had dragged the half unconscious Rhysand towards one of the beds reserved for the patients. 

His injuries were mainly on his wings, they were torn through with arrows. The said arrows seemed to be poisonous, because his skin was quickly losing its pallor. It was my first time treating someone without father by my side, but I had steadied my nerves and my hands enough to bandage the wounds appropriately. Then I made him drink a small cup of herbal antidote for the poison in his system and covered him with a blanket to rest.

As he rested, I cleared wooden splinters and pieces of the broken entrance door (Rhys had literally crashed through) and was erecting a temporary barrier of canvas when the commanders Cassian and Azriel appeared. 

Apparently Rhysand had sent them some sort of signal to indicate where he was before passing out. They were relieved to see him in a peaceful rest, and I told them that they could take him back after my father did a once over to make sure he would heal well. That meant one of them staying the night, and Azriel had volunteered to do so. 

I had noticed the royalties and members of the inner circle around the town, but it was my first encounter with any of them. Rhysand radiated an aura of pure, lethal power even when injured, and Cassian had the rough, fierce power of a wolf. 

And Azriel—well, he was the shadow incarnate, his power being in the way he observed and gathered every bit of information about anything that surrounded him. His intelligence shone through the depths of his dark eyes, drawing in anyone like a moth to candlelight. While we waited for Rhys to wake up, he carried in a new door from the carpenter's workshop and helped me affix it to the entrance. 

He was a fae of few words, politely murmuring thanks when I brought over blankets and pillows for him to sleep on the bed next to Rhysand's after dinner. He didn't lie down, instead just bundled himself against the cold with the blankets and kept a patient, quiet watch over his High Lord. 

My father returned with the first light of dawn, and Rhysand woke up a couple of hours later. After giving him a thorough check-up, father told him that he would heal perfectly without any scars. I had done everything right, and I was proud. 

This incident had led Rhysand into inviting me to the House of Wind and joining the inner circle. He was leaning heavily on Azriel's shoulder, but still had the poise of a powerful ruler as he painted a pretty picture if I accepted—having access to the limitless library, using its resources to gain knowledge in a field of interest and using it whenever needed. 

I was hesitant at first, since father would be left alone if I left, but he himself had urged me to accept the offer. In the end, I accepted it with all my heart, and moved in to the House of Wind later that week. 

When all the belongings I needed were shifted to my new quarters, I was warmly welcomed as a new member of Rhysand's household. Though I was very shy, none of them made me feel like an outsider and happily took me in, which I was grateful for. 

The library was paradise for me. Rhysand arranged for a branched off space in one of its floors to be my laboratory to experiment what I had learnt. Amren helped by bringing me the rarest or the most poisonous herbs, and she never told me how she procured them even after me begging on my knees. I began to be happier, but also more knowledgeable with new healing potions. I divided my week so I could spend at least two days with my dad and the rest in the House of the Wind. All day, I made myself useful by studying and experimenting, or assisting the royal physician in her activities. 

Dinner had to always be eaten with everybody, and it was filled with jokes (mostly Cassian), laughter (from everyone), eye rolls at the jokes (from Nesta) and quiet smiles (from Azriel). After the meal, I had to walk beside Azriel to my quarters, his being adjacent to mine. 

As days passed, I slinked out of my shell of shyness and mingled with everyone. All except Azriel, of course. I mean, he was of a quiet nature, but I felt like he disliked me. I could see smiles and chuckles and small conversations drawn out of him by everybody but me. He never himself started a conversation with me, and when I tried to do so on the way back to our quarters, he gave disinterested one-word replies. 

I told myself that it wasn't a big deal. I had other things to worry about. But when I saw him speaking with someone else in the way I wanted him to speak to me, my chest squeezed painfully. It was especially rough when I saw him catering to Elaine. 

I never showed this turmoil on my face, though. Rhysand and Feyre were mates, and her older sister Nesta was Cassian's. It made sense if Elaine was Azriel's mate. 

Why then, that just the thought of it made me sad and hopeless?

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

This fanfic can also be found in Wattpad, along with other exclusive parts like playlists and pictures. Here's the link: https://www.wattpad.com/story/358573037-long-way-home

Happy reading! <3

Read Part II here.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Pollen allergies

day 3: Mates

Summary: Y/n is tired of her brother and mate.

•○●⛦●○•

A/n: just some lil fluff for @tamlinweek hehe

enjoyy!!

Y/n wasn't sure whether her ears hurt more or her head.

She wondered if it even compared to the suffering her brother was going through.

Being the mate of the high lord of spring was fun, really. But having a brother allergic to pollen was not.

And what was worse than that?

Having a husband who loved to bully and tease your brother.

"Y/n tell him to shut up, please!"

Y/n sighed as Cassian's whine reached her ears, and she turned to find him stomping up to her, Tamlin cackling as he followed behind.

"Oh Y/n, please tell me to shut up-"

He was interrupted by Cassian's loud sneeze, followed by his angry sniff.

"I hate you!"

Y/n covered her face, looking like she was tired of the two of them, but she was just trying to hide her laugh.

"Tam, don't be mean-"

Achoo

"Cassian, do you want to get some rest?"

"Yes."

Y/n left her laughing mate behind as she led her brother to a guest bedroom, carefully designed to keep out pollen so Cassian could visit Y/n without having to greet death, as he claimed he would anytime he had to visit.

Cassian sulked through the door and into the room, pouting as he closed the door behind him, leaving Y/n shaking her head at his antics.

"Aw, poor baby-"

Y/n turned to glare at her mate, who reared back, his hands in the air in a I'm a harmless creature gesture.

"Why do you have to always bully him like that?" She mumbled as she walked closer to him, and he continued grinning.

"But it's so fun." He reached out, tugging her into his chest. Y/n buried her face in his chest, breathing deeply, feeing the golden string connecting them flare to life in glee.

"Sure."

He dropped his head, smiling against the side of her head.

"I love you, mate."

"I love me too, mate."

Y/n rolled her eyes and simply winnowed away before he could say anything.

"Hey!"

Acotar Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392 @kennedy-brooke @tele86 @miluiel1 @hnyclover @minnieoo @sidrapotter @piceous21 @mybestfriendmademe @saltedcoffeescotch @eve175 @starsinyourseyes @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @byyalady @lilah-asteria @girlswithimagination @gardenofrunar

[yyawnjun]

LOVE GUIDE (SAY YES)

stylist!student!HOSHI × model!student!READER summary: It is clear to everyone that Kwon Soon-young has a huge crush on the model student Yn. But can Hoshi, a passionate and funny stylist make her fall in love in just a month? What if he followed a weird LOVE GUIDE, that he found in the school bathroom? short smau ; fluff ; funny !!

m.list

yn's gang ; hoshi's gang

chap1 Delusional²

chap2 Hoshi's spiritual vocation *written part*

chap3 Women are not an object

chap4 TALK, ASK, UNDERSTAND

chap5 Baroque ?!?

chap6 ..---

chap7 military enlistment

chap8 hoshi's confession?

chap9 falling from the stairs three times in one day

chap10 don't talk about the 81$.

chap11 too happy to care

chap12 "erm..actually, I like him."

chap13 hiiiiii

chap14 #familymingyu

chap15 looking at you(r sketches) *written part*

chap16 WOMAN

chap17

taglist(36/50): @alsktudy @kissesfrmwonwoo @marsstarxhwa @haohyo @wonwooz1 @wonwoos-wineparty @mhlsymlysn @nishloves @punkhazardlaw @manooffline @kflixnet @minhui896 @azkahanif @woozixo

@chimmy-bts @luvhuihui @wonraiwoo @keeboismine @teenyfinds @ninetiesbitches @astro-doll-the-star @bangantokchy @meowwyoong @dahbee8 @ivehypnosis @chweverni @miriamxsworld @cottoncheol @caratboy

@gigiiiiislife @isabellah29 @forrhoshi @xyren1 @hamji-hae @ukitouu

send an ask or comment under this post to be part of it !!