#townhouse incident

[ffsjustletmesleep]

I love you

Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader Oneshot

word count: 2.2k

(There better not be errors I put this through a grammar checker 3 times..)

Warnings: Swearing, Fingering, Unprotected sex (Dont be silly guys..), Creampie. (think that's it, enjoy) MDNI 18+

     Daryl and you had been together since before the walker incident had started; the two of you lived together in a shitty townhouse for a few years with his older brother, Merle, until your upstairs neighbors had come bursting through your window trying to attack the three of you while you were asleep. You found a small group in Atlanta and stayed with them for a short while until Merle had decided to get himself into trouble with the new guy, Rick, which caused a huge argument between him and Daryl before they went off to find Merle. The camp had been ambushed by a horde of walkers moments before they returned, which resulted in where you were now, The Greene’s Family Farm.

You stood in Maggie’s room going through her closet as she sat on the bed; you had plans for something special tonight. While getting dressed for the day, your eyes landed on a white dress covered in tiny flowers that were barely noticeable. You pulled it out of the closet and held it to your chest as you looked over at Maggie, smiling. She looked over at you and raised her eyebrows. “Oh my gosh, I forgot about that one. I think you should wear that one today.” She smiled softly.

Your cheeks reddened slightly as you let out a small laugh, starting to get dressed. “Really? It’s not too much?” you asked as you pulled the dress over your head, seeing as it stopped just below your knees. You looked in the mirror and gave a small twirl before looking back at Maggie. She let out a small whistle and got up and walked over to you, putting her hands on your shoulders. “You look amazing; Daryl is going to love it…” She giggled and brought you over to her vanity to do your hair.

After an hour of her doing your hair, she was done. You made your way out of the house and over to Daryl, who was sitting in your shared tent working on his crossbow. Ever since the two of you had moved your tent away from the farmhouse, you and Daryl have been more intimate, not exactly going all the way yet, but you made out every now and then, with small touches here and there too. You wanted tonight to be special; you had decided you wanted to take the next step with him.

You stepped into the tent and smiled as you saw him; he looked up from his crossbow and grunted softly, looking over towards you, his lips parting to speak, but his words got caught in his throat as he saw your dress. You stepped over to him and brushed your fingers through his short, dirty blonde hair. “Hey, Dar… I was wondering if you could come with me out to the field; I want to go pick up some flowers for Maggie,” you muttered softly as you picked his head up, making him look at you. 

He looked up at you as his eyebrows furrowed at your touch; his ears burned red slightly as he huffed. “Really…flowers? What’s so important bout’ some damn flowers?” he grumbled, putting his crossbow down as he rested his hands on your waist, brushing his thumbs over your hips, feeling the soft material of the dress. 

You blushed slightly and smiled as you leaned down to kiss his cheek before pulling him up to his feet by his arms. “Come on… Please? It will only take a minute, just to the field nearby…” you pouted as you looked up at him; he frowned slightly as he looked at you before leaning down with a small sigh and pressing his lips against your forehead.

“Aight, I guess so…” he mumbled as he picked up his crossbow, slinging it over his shoulder before he left the tent with you following behind him as the two of you made your way over to the field near the woods. You walked ahead of him as you felt his gaze on you, looking back at him every now and then to make sure he was still behind you. Once you two had made it to the field, he stopped in his tracks beside you and looked around to make sure there were no walkers.

As you bent down and picked up some grass, you looked over at him with a smile and tossed it in his direction before you ran off. He stepped back and looked at the grass that covered his clothes before looking over at you running off; his eyes narrowed at you, and he took off after you. “Get back ‘ere! Don’t be runnin’ away from me!” he shouted as he chased you around the field of flowers you were standing in. 

You giggled as you ran, your hair flowing in the wind as you heard him quickly catch up to you; he grasped your hips tightly as he spun you around in his arms, his foot slipping in a patch of grass as he brought you to the ground with him with a small thud. You gasped as he fell on top of you; he groaned softly and leaned up on his elbows, looking down at you as he rubbed his head. You let out a small breath as you looked up at him, giggling.

“This isn’t what I thought you meant when you told me you fell for me…” you whispered as you smiled. He looked at you quietly for a moment as his ears started to redden once more, his eyes glancing down at your lips for a moment before they returned to yours, as if he were asking for your permission. You blushed and gave him a soft smile and nodded. He leaned down and brushed his lips against yours for a moment before he kissed you, slowly and gently. 

You reached up and threaded your fingers through his hair as you kissed him back, humming softly against his lips as his hands lifted the hem of your dress. He let out a small sigh and slipped his hands under your dress, feeling your soft thighs against the rough pads of his hands as he grasped them. He trailed his lips down your neck and kissed and nipped the skin gently. You tilted your head back and let out a small whine.

He let out a small chuckle and pulled the sleeves of your dress down, revealing your chest to the cold air as a shiver ran down your spine. You tilted your head at him and smiled. “Stop laughing at me; I was trying to be cute…” You whispered softly, and he smiled and ran his hands down your sides. “Mmm… sorry, yer just’ so cute…” he muttered softly before he leaned down and took one of your nipples into his mouth. 

Your hands made their way into his hair and tugged at the short strands gently, letting out a small sigh at the feeling of his tongue tracing around the small bud. His hand gently kneaded your other breast as his other one made its way back underneath your dress, toying with the fabric of your underwear and pushing it to the side, brushing his fingers along your folds. He let out a small groan at the feeling of your arousal coating them.

The wind blew lightly around you as it started to get darker, the night falling by the second, but the two of you were too engrossed in the moment to care. You felt his finger entering you, gasping as your head tilted back against the grass. Biting your lip, you tugged at his hair once more, letting out a small whimper as his thick digit stretched you out. “Yer so tight…” he whispered against your chest, his lips trailing down your skin as he pulled your dress down your body.

He added another, curling them gently and hitting your sweet spot. You moaned out as he curled his fingers inside you, the knot slowly building up in the pit of your stomach as he pumped them in and out of you; he gradually picked up the speed as the heat between you grew. His breathing got heavy, and his body got hotter as his lips explored your body, trailing down your stomach and stopping just below your navel before he looked up at you, watching as your lips parted with every gasp. 

“Yer being’ so good for me, Sunshine. Come on,” he whispered as he scissored his fingers, letting out a small chuckle from the moan you let out. Your stomach tightened more and more by the second until the knot snapped. With a small cry, you came around his fingers. He slowly removed them and let out a groan at the sight of your arousal coating them; he pushed his pants down his hips just enough to free himself, hissing softly as the cold air hit his cock.

He leaned down and pressed his lips against yours in a gentle kiss, pressing his body against yours as he intertwined your fingers, holding it down against the soft blades of grass. “Are ya sure ya wanna do this?” he asked as he looked at you, stroking your thigh softly. You nodded your head and reached up to touch his cheek, bringing him into another kiss as you sighed softly. “I love you, Daryl. I wanna do this with you…” you whispered against his lips.

The feeling of your touch on his skin, your voice in his ears, and your lips on his. He couldn’t get enough of you. He pushed your underwear to the side once more and lined himself up with your entrance before gently pushing into you. Letting out a small curse as your tight walls hugged him. 

You pressed your lips against his and felt his hand tighten in yours, moaning out as his cock stretched you open. He pressed further inside you, trying not to hurt you as he bottomed out, giving you time to adjust to his size. His hand left your thigh and moved up into your hair, stroking it gently as he whispered soft praises into your ear. You slowly relaxed into him as the pain subsided, pleasure filling your senses as you leaned into his touch. “Daryl…” you whined. He looked at you for a moment, feeling the way your hips squirmed against his, silently begging him to move.

He pulled out all the way before he pushed back in, keeping his pace slow as he moved his hips against yours; the sound of your soft gasps and moans in his ear was driving him crazy, loving the way your hand squeezed his. “Ya sound so good…” he groaned as he picked up his pace, biting down on his bottom lip to concentrate. He wanted to focus on you, your pleasure; he didn’t care about his, only yours. 

His hand moved back to your thigh as he pulled it up to his chest, hooking your leg over his shoulder. Your moans grew louder as his thrusts deepened, his cock hitting deeper and harder as the knot in your stomach came back quicker. He wrapped his arm around your thigh and let go of your hand, reaching down to rub your clit between his fingers. You grasped the grass tightly between your fingers as he slammed into you over and over; it was too much; you felt like you were gonna burst. 

With one more rub of your clit, you came undone, moaning out his name and coming around him. “Fuck..!” he cursed as he felt you coming around him; his thrusts got more sloppy as he thrust into you a few more times before spilling inside you with a soft moan. He held your leg tightly as he came down from his high, looking down at you as he watched you relax. He gently pulled out of you and listened to the soft whine you made, watching his release spill out of you and onto the grass. 

He fixed your underwear and pulled your dress back up over your chest with a small chuckle. “Come on, let’s get you back…” He tucked himself back in his pants and pulled them up before picking you up in his arms and carrying you back to your shared tent. Once the two of you made it back, he set you down on the mess of blankets and cleaned you up with one of his dirty shirts.

You watched as he cleaned you up, smiling at his gentle touch. “I love you…” you spoke softly, your throat slightly dry from earlier. He looked up at you and paused for a second before he put the shirt down and grunted, lying down next to you and pulling you into his arms. “Yeah, yeah…” he murmured as he pressed his lips against your temple. “Get some rest…” he brushed the hair from your face. 

You let out a small hum as you felt his lips against your head. “Alright, alright…” you sighed and cuddled into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and closing your eyes. He watched as you fell asleep in his arms, breathing softly against his chest as it made his heart race. “I love ya... Sunshine,” he whispered against your hair before falling asleep beside you. The two of you slept soundly in the comfort of each other's arms, your thoughts clear and your hearts beating in one together.

Ty for reading :))) hopefully this smut was good I'm still getting the hang of it ♡😵‍💫

@moonbaby6

[really-fanny-longbottom]

okay sooooo

i had this little thought right

okay so maybe like reader has been a part of the inner circle for a looooong time like since the batboys were kids and they've all been friends forever, naturaly azriel has been in love with her since then, and a few years ago he realised they were mates (she doesn't know)

this one time she walks into the townhouse in just a bra and trousers, casually just walking in drinking coffee while the rhys and cass are just flabbergasted (cass being cass is eyeing the goods real hard because shes always been hot and he knows it) rhys is smirking and all (hes no less honestly)

then az walks in and hes just like what the fuck, she tries to explain smth happened to her shirt on the way and hes just grumbling and takes off his own shirt and is like put this own (cass is naturally making comments that make az's blood boil)

then you can choose where that goes from there

lmfaoooo im so sorry i couldn't get this idea out of my head

its okayyyy if you can't write it!!!

hi! sorry it took me so long to post but i've been really busy with university and only now have i had some free time.

anyway, here it is! thank you so much for this request, i loved writing it!

i hope you like it! 🫶🏻

my hero

summary: a small but very happy incident.

warnings: none

pairings: azriel x reader

words: 2.2k

tick 

tack

tick 

tack 

"ugh," a heavy groan escaped your lips at the sound of the clock. you seated slightly, your head pounding without mercy. 

as you looked at the window, your eyes fought against the early sunlight, before adjusting and finally allowing you to fully open them.

it took you a few seconds to remember your surroundings, and to be honest, to remember anything. 

the confusion didn't last long when all the memories from last night hit you all at once. 

you had gone out for the night with morrigan. you went to rita's for a girls night.

a night with a lot of drinking and dancing and singing and drinking again — mysterious headache solved.

you looked down on you, seeing the shiny short black dress you had chosen for last night specifically. 

you passed your hands through your messy hair and took a glance at your bedroom, absorbing the chaos that a very drunk you had caused.

how could just a person cause such a mess?

tick 

tack

tick

tack

"ugh!" a loud annoyed groan left your lips again

at the sound of the clock that kept attacking your brain. 

before you could think twice, you turned and reached out to punch the clock, causing it to fall to the ground.

you lowered yourself on the bed sheets with an arm over your head.

this was going to be a very long day.

and that's when it you.

your eyes and two seconds later, your legs were fighting against the bed sheets. 

after losing that battle, you ended up falling to the ground with a loud noise. 

a small 'huff' came out of your mouth before getting up and running to the clock as quickly as possible to check the time. 

10:07 am

"oh, shit."

you were late for your internship at the clinic.

"oh, shit."

you quickly begin to look for clean clothes at the same time you try to get rid of your dress. 

you manage to find something that looked relatively clean and put it on, your heart racing as you tried to get your hair to not look like a complete mess.

when you finished putting your hair in a more presentable state, you hurried to put on your shoes, but when you noticed the time again, you only managed to put on a sock before grabbing the first pair of shoes in sight and running out of your room. 

as you run for the stairs, you didn't have time to react before a body collided with yours and spilled coffee all over your t-shirt.

the hot contents against your skin forced you to let out a small scream and dropped the shoes to the floor as you struggled to pull the fabric of your t-shirt away from your body. 

"shit, shit, shit!" you cursed at the same time you blew on your t-shirt.

great, as if your day wasn't already going badly. 

"sorry," a small voice said.

you met your attacker's gaze as you looked up to see a beautiful female with green eyes and brown hair — morrigan's friend. 

right, you had forgotten that she had come home with the two of you — with mor. 

the female looked mortified as you stared at her annoyed. when you saw her opening her mouth to say something, you quickly stopped her.

"don't," you raised your hand at her, you didn't have time for this, "just. . .just go."

you pointed at morrigan's bedroom, whose door was slightly open. the female followed your direction, shrinking a little as she passed through you.

"idiot!" you cursed quietly. 

you looked at your bedroom and considered your options: the chances that you may find a new clean t-shirt in the middle of that mess, were very low and you were already late.

so you gave up and made your way down the stairs, starting to unbutton your shirt before completely taking it off, leaving you in your black lacy bra, and entering the kitchen.

rhysand and cassian who had been enjoying a late breakfast found themselves speechless upon your entrance. 

their gazes followed you as you moved to the sink and started working on removing the stain.

the males shared a gaze between them, identical smirks forming on both of their faces.

"good morning, y/n." rhysand greeted you as he took a sip of his tea cup.

you jumped startled, your eyes found theirs immediately, "gods, i didn't see you there."

rhysand's smirk grew wider. "oh, we know."

"did you get mugged?" cassian asked as he took in your figure.

you were barefoot with only one sock and shirtless.

"what?" you asked confused. 

cassian's eyes roam over your body.

"oh, no, morrigan's friend though it was a good idea to spill her coffee over me. freaking idiot," you murmured the last part, still focused on the task in hand.

cassian let out a snort "well, i'll make sure to thank her personally for this amazing view."

you rolled your eyes at his comment "oh, shut up, cassian. we grew up together, we've all seen each other naked at one point."

rhys smirked and grew before adding "sure, but we were either kids or teenagers at those times." 

cassian glanced at his brother, amusement all over his features "maybe we should go back to those times."

with another roll of your eyes, you tried to suppress a smile at your friend's comment while trying to get rid of the stain.

as on cue, the shadowsinger entered the kitchen to join his brothers for breakfast.

instead, he was surprised with a view of you shirtless — his shirtless mate.

the very reason, rhys and cassian had begun to tease you in the first place. 

what made this whole situation much funnier — the fact that you weren't aware of this detail. 

and things had just become a lot more interesting now with azriel in the room. 

his eyes widened at the sight of you but when he turned to find his brothers, his eyes darkened and a low growl was released.

"nice of you to join us, brother," cassian said casually as he leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest.

he can practically feel the heat coming off of azriel, like smoke coming out of his ears.

"what's wrong, az?" rhys asked him, knowing exactly what was going on but seeing azriel riled up was too funny to miss it.

at the sound of their voices, you looked up and your eyes found a pair of hazel ones.

"oh, hi, azriel." you greeted him with your sweet smile — the one he liked so much.

the shadowsinger found himself melting at your words, at the way you said his name. 

his eyes instantly softed, a small blush coming to his cheeks and a goofy smile on his lips, "h-hi, y/n." 

you gave him a warm smile before going back to your task.

azriel regained his composure at the sound of his brothers' muffled laughter. 

he sighed and rolled his eyes at their behavior, he hadn't catched a break from them since he revealed the mating bond on one drunken night.

cassian elbowed rhys gently in the ribs to get his attention, when his eyes found his, the general gestured with his head to the shadowsinger. 

"hey, az" cassian tried to contain his urge to laugh, he knew what was about to happen. 

"what?" azriel managed to say, his eyes still on your figure.

"we were just talking. . ." cassian started, his voice teasing "about going back to those times when we were teenagers." 

azriel face scrunched in confusion, he shot his brother a look. 

"you know," cassian continued, his peripheral vision caught rhys trying to control himself  "those times where we didn't care about being naked in front of each other." 

both rhys and cassian snorted at the sight of azriel's face turning red.

"what?!" the male let out a little too loud then he had intended.

rhys proceeded, "yeah, you know. when we didn't care so much about formalities. don't you agree, y/n?" 

you rolled your eyes again at rhys comment, "i think you two have too much free time" you chuckled, "cauldron has mercy on the poor females that will ended up as your mates."

"hey!" both cassian and rhys protested.

azriel smiled at your comment, but it fell when he observed both of his brothers eyes roaming over your body, grins splattered on their features.

azriel moved to the edge of the table, placing his hands on the surface of it before giving them a glare and clenching his jaw.

"stop looking at her like that before i break your faces" he threatened through gritted teeth. 

cassian and rhys were quick to lift their arms in surrender, both muttering a small "yes, sir." 

azriel rolled his eyes in annoyance. his attention was caught when he heard you cursed quietly. 

he sent one last warning look to the two males before moving to stand behind you.

he was so close, that all it took was another step of his for your back to be pressed against his chest.

azriel would love to know the feeling of that sensation, but he remained where he was.

he peeked through your shoulder and saw that you couldn't get rid of the annoying coffee stain. 

"gods, madja is going to kill me for being late." 

without a second thought, azriel took a step back.

"here," he told you.

you turned to find him taking off his own shirt.

your eyes roamed his body — his sun-kissed skin, his muscles, his illyrian tattoos. 

you loved those tattoos. 

"put it on," he extended his hand to you, holding out his shirt.

"oh, that's not necessary, az. i-"

"it's okay, y/n. i- i want you too. by the way, why don't you go get your shoes and i'll take you to the clinic? it's quicker that way and you don't have to walk." 

your face softened, "really? you would do that?" 

the corner of his lips lifted for a small smile, only you to make him feel this way.

"of course." 

you grabbed his shirt, "ugh, thank you, az."

you put it on and azriel tried to not let the sight of your small feature into his too big of a shirt to affect him, but he failed when his heart skipped a beat.

you moved forward and grabbed his cheeks, kissing him on the left one.

caught off guard, azriel tried to hide the fact that his skin had heated up under your touch. 

a new blush came to decorate his cheeks. 

"hm. . .i-" the male couldn't find his words with the sound of his heart roaming in his ears. 

"you're my hero, az" you gave a big smile before making your way to the stairs to collect your shoes. 

azriel stood there in the middle of the kitchen with a hand making it's way to his face to touch the place you kissed him.

cassian and rhys burst out laughing, not being able to remain composed of their brother in love. 

cassian got up from his seat and walked towards his brother, clasping a hand on his back.

"behold of the big bad scary shadow-," cassian leaned over in laughter, "shadowsinger" he managed to complete. 

rhys appeared on his other side, "oh, brother. only if your enemies could see you now, they would think how big of a fool they are."  

azriel clenched his jaw again, and when he turned to answer them, he was stopped by a honey-sweet voice.

"i'm ready," you told him from the entrance.

once again, the shadowsinger was left completely disarmed.

a goofy smile reappeared on his face. 

he didn't even spare a glance at his brothers before making his way to you, "let's go then."

cassian and rhys were left in the kitchen laughing to themselves.

•••

the trip to the clinic was quick.

azriel landed softly on the ground, keeping a hand on your waist and another on your back to make sure you were stable.

you took a step forward before turning to him.

"thank you again, az. you literally just saved my morning." 

and there it was that goofy smile again.

"oh, it's nothing really. my pleasure." 

you let out a small giggle. you reached forward, surrounding his neck with one of your arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek again.

azriel's heart raced and his voice caught in his throat. 

you took a step back "you're my hero, azriel. what would i do without you?" 

you caressed his cheek with the back of your hand before giving him one last smile and moving towards the clinic.

"hm, i-" was all the male managed to say while watching you entering the clinic with his shirt.

he watched as you grabbed the door, and turned to him to wave goodbye. 

azriel returned the gesture. it was at that moment that he realized how much power you had over him.

he didn't push away that feeling, in fact he embraced it.

it was about time to let the walls he had built so long ago disappear. 

and you were the right person for that.

azriel made a decision at that moment.

at the end of the day, he would come pick you up and ask you out on a date.

he would buy you flowers, tell you how he felt and take you to dinner.

he just hoped you felt the same way.

and that you said yes.

masterlist

general taglist: @emryb @fantasyandshit @azrielover @shadowsingercassia @littlelou22 @brieflyclassymortal @lilah-asteria @meul-a @lure-of-writing @pruvii @olive-main @mybestfriendmademe @anuttellaa @mrsjna @lively-potter @avajustreads @talesofadragon @circe143 @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @dark-chaos-314 @tequilya @scoliobean @saltedcoffeescotch @charlotteintumbleland @agirlwithwifiandalaptop @987coley

*if you asked to be tagged and you weren't, it's because I couldn't find your blog.

the beautiful dividers belong to @cafekitsune

[fr0stf4ll]

A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 13

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 10k

Trigger warning; violence & mention of death

notes; hello lovely people, here is the new chapter ! A bit longer than usual but let me tell you that this one is heavy (and I did cut some of it to put it in the next chapter because I was a bit scared that it would be too much for one chapter). Anyways I tried to do a fun chapter, well ... you guys will see with your own eyes that I always need to make things a bit dramatic (only a little °°333). I think it's really the chapter I enjoyed the most writing so far so I hope that you will enjoy reading it <3. See you all next week, love you <333

thank you again @ailoda for you post it made me freaking emotional <333

previous ✧

The warm glow of the living room lights filled the townhouse, casting a cozy ambiance over the gathered Inner Circle. It was dinner day, and the entire group—Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, Azriel, Amren, Nesta and Mor—had joined you for an evening of food and conversation. It had been a few days since you went back home after the incident and  Feyre had personally come to you that afternoon to invite you, her warm insistence leaving little room to decline. You were drowing in your work trying not to give a thought to the bond and the fact that you hadn’t seen Azriel since. 

You’d opted for a simple yet comfortable outfit: wide, high-waisted black pants paired with a loose, long-sleeved blue top with a high collar. The fabric was soft and warm, perfect for the cool night air.

The room was alive with chatter and laughter, and you found yourself caught up in it, smiling despite the exhaustion still lingering in your body. Cassian and Mor were on either side of you, bantering animatedly about Velaris nightlife.

“You mean to tell me you’ve never been to Rita's?” Cassian exclaimed, his eyes widening in mock horror.

“I think once when I was younger, but ever since never.” you replied, shrugging. “I’m too busy saving lives to hit up bars, apparently.”

“It’s not just a bar,” Mor interjected, her hands gesturing wildly as if to emphasize her point. “It’s the bar. Best drinks, best music, best people—it’s a Velaris institution.”

Cassian leaned forward, grinning. “Mor’s right. Even Amren’s been there. It’s practically a rite of passage.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” you said, smirking.

Mor wasn’t satisfied. She nudged your shoulder, her voice taking on a pleading tone. “Come on. We’ll go together when you’re better.”

You chuckled. “Alright, but I don’t know when I’ll have time.”

“When?” she pressed, her hazel eyes narrowing suspiciously.

“Next month, probably,” you answered, trying not to laugh at the look of disbelief on her face.

“Next month?” she repeated, incredulous. “Why next month?”

“Because next week, I’m going back to Windhaven,” you began, ticking the events off on your fingers. “Then I’ve got meetings with the priestesses, and then Starfall is coming, and after that—”

“Okay, okay!” Mor interrupted, throwing her hands up in mock surrender. “I’m going to have to kidnap you just to get you out for one night.”

You laughed openly this time, shaking your head. “Fine, I’ll pencil you in when I can.”

Feyre approached then, her soft voice cutting through the lively banter. “Y/N, do you think you could join me for a painting class on Friday afternoon? And don’t you dare tell me you’re too busy with work.”

You raised a hand, pretending to look wounded. “I wasn’t going to say that. But I can’t make it—not because of work, though.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Then why?”

“It’s my weekly tea time with Madja,” you replied simply.

Cassian immediately perked up, his brows shooting up in interest. “Tea time with Madja?” he repeated, leaning forward with an amused grin. “That’s adorable. What do you two even talk about? Healer issues? New techniques?”

You swatted his arm lightly, shaking your head. “Hey! Just because I love my job doesn’t mean that’s all I talk about. We talk about... other things.”

“Like what?” Mor asked, smirking as she sipped her wine.

You tilted your head, feigning mystery. “That’s between me and Madja.”

Cassian let out a bark of laughter. “I’m picturing the two of you having a serious debate over tea about how to fix my dumbass when I inevitably crash into something.”

“Cassian,” Feyre interjected, rolling her eyes, “Y/N does far more important work than managing your antics.”

“Thank you,” you said to Feyre, giving Cassian a pointed look. “And for the record, Madja and I have very enlightening conversations. You’d be surprised how insightful she is about life in general.”

The group shared a laugh, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you let yourself relax. The lively chatter continued, shifting topics seamlessly as plates of food and glasses of wine were passed around. For once, you weren’t talking about healers’ matters or politics—you were just a part of the group, laughing and enjoying the moment. 

The peaceful hum of the room shifted the moment Elain entered, Lucien trailing just behind her. You were talking to Feyre and didn’t immediately notice the change in atmosphere until Rhysand’s voice broke through the casual chatter.

“Y/N,” Rhys said smoothly, gesturing toward the two newcomers, “allow me to introduce Lucien.”

You looked up, your eyes meeting Lucien’s in a moment of mutual surprise. “What are you doing here?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. The corners of Lucien’s mouth twitched into a small, amused smile, and he stepped forward to give you a brief hug.

“Good to see you too, Y/N,” he replied lightly, though his voice carried an undercurrent of genuine warmth.

The room’s dynamic shifted again as Elain gravitated toward Azriel, who was leaning against the back of the couch. Lucien, perhaps instinctively or perhaps by choice, found his way to your side. The juxtaposition didn’t go unnoticed, though no one commented on it—at least not aloud.

You handed Nyx back to Feyre, who smiled gently at you, her expression tinged with curiosity as she glanced between you and Lucien.

“I take it you’ve met before?” Rhys prompted, his brow lifting slightly.

You nodded, still a little thrown by Lucien’s sudden presence. “Yes, we breafly met when I was in Autumn centuries ago.” you explained. “And then again in Spring—he arrived a few weeks before I left.”

“Small world,” Lucien said with a faint grin, though his sharp gaze flickered to Rhysand, ever aware of the High Lord’s looming presence.

The conversation meandered for a while, touching on casual topics. But then Lucien turned to you, his tone shifting slightly and quietly asked you. “I heard about the healer meeting in Dawn. Did you have a chance to speak with the head healer of Autumn?”

Your expression softened, though a shadow passed over your features. “I did,” you said, your voice quieter. “She’s doing better, don’t worry. But, very honestly, Lucien... she won’t be in her best shape if she stays in Autumn. It’s slowly killing her.”

The room stilled, the weight of your words settling heavily in the air. Rhysand’s eyebrow arched, and you felt an unfamiliar sensation���a gentle yet deliberate tug on your mind. It was the first time Rhys had ever used his abilities on you like this, and though it was unsettling, you allowed it, letting him in.

What was that about? his voice sounded in your mind, calm but edged with concern.

The High Lady of Autumn tried to kill herself, you replied, the words laced with quiet gravity. 

The thought landed heavily in Rhysand’s consciousness, and though his face betrayed nothing, you felt the ripple of shock that coursed through him.

Shit, he muttered in your mind, his tone uncharacteristically unsettled. Does Eris know?

Yes, you replied. He’s keeping it quiet, but it’s caused even more division within Autumn. The tension between him and Beron is... palpable.

Rhysand’s silence spoke volumes as he processed the information. You could feel his thoughts flickering through the implications, his strategic mind already piecing together the broader picture.

And what do you think? he finally asked, his tone quieter now.

I think she needs to leave Autumn. Rordan their head healer told me that Day might be an option. But it’s her decision to make, not ours.

Rhysand’s agreement hummed softly through your connection. Keep me updated on her situation—and anything else from Autumn.

You nodded slightly, breaking the mental link as Lucien’s voice drew your attention back to the room. “And do you think she’ll leave?” he asked, his expression unreadable.

You shook your head, offering him a faint, tired smile. “I don’t know. I hope so. But it’s her choice.”

Lucien sighed, his posture stiffening slightly. “It’s complicated,” he murmured, his tone heavy with unspoken thoughts.

“Yes,” you agreed softly. “It is.”

Though the conversation shifted to lighter topics, the weight of what had been discussed lingered in your mind—and Rhysand’s—as an unspoken reminder of the cracks forming in Prythian’s foundation.

You turned to Lucien with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Oh, by the way, Lila says hi.”

Lucien froze mid-sip of his drink, his eyes widening in a mix of panic and exasperation. “No. Not her again,” he muttered, setting his glass down with more force than necessary. “Why does she still talk about me?”

You burst out laughing at his visible distress, the kind of laughter that left you breathless. The others turned their attention to you, curiosity lighting up their faces. Cassian raised a brow, leaning forward. “What’s so funny?”

You wiped at your eyes, still giggling. “Oh, it’s just... let’s say that during the healer meeting at least the nights we spent talking with the girls, Lucien was a very… popular topic. Let’s just say Lila is quite taken with Lucien.”

“Taken?” Lucien interjected sharply, lifting his head to glare at you. “No, Y/N. Let’s call it what it is—obsessed. I am terrified of her.”

Rhysand, clearly amused, leaned back in his chair with a chuckle. “What does she look like?”

You smirked, ready for the volley of descriptions. “Well, she looks like Tamlin—”

“But with boobs,” Lucien interjected, deadpan, cutting you off.

“And she’s short, like Amren,” you added, grinning as you gestured downward.

Lucien groaned again. “Short, running everywhere, and screaming.  Always screaming.”

You burst into laughter again, shaking your head. “Don’t get me wrong—she’s an incredible healer. Honestly, one of my best students. But... she’s something, that’s for sure.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” Lucien muttered, rubbing his temples. “Do you know about the closet incident?”

“Oh gods, yes!” You exclaimed, grinning wide. “That was hilarious when she told us about it. The way we had to make her drink for her to be able to admit it, but don’t dramatise everything Lucien it was just her way to show her affection right?” you looked at him amused.

“She tried to lock me in a closet to stop me from leaving the Spring Court Y/N?” 

"Well that sounds oddly familiar?” said Feyre looking at the booth of you. 

Cassian’s laugh echoed through the room. “What is it with Spring Court and locking people ? First Tamlin, now this?”

You nodded, struggling to suppress your laughter. “Apparently, she thought it was the only way to get him to ‘listen.’”

You wiped tears of laughter from your eyes. 

Rhysand leaned back, still chuckling. “So, to sum it up: she’s like Tamlin, but with boobs, short like Amren, runs everywhere, and... locks people in closets.”

Cassian doubled over with laughter. “You’ve got to introduce me to this Lila. She sounds like a riot.”

Lucien glared at him. “You can take my place if you’re so curious, I’m sure she would love you.”

The room burst into laughter again, the lighthearted banter a welcome reprieve from the tensions that had been looming. Even Lucien couldn’t help but laugh, though his mortified expression lingered.

On the other side of the room, Azriel leaned against the couch, his shadows curling restlessly around him like dark, living whispers. His gaze lingered on you and Lucien, watching the way you laughed with an ease that felt almost foreign to him. You looked carefree, radiant even, as if the weight of the world had momentarily lifted from your shoulders. Lucien’s animated gestures and your bright laughter filled the air, a stark contrast to the tight knot of unease growing in Azriel’s chest.

He shouldn’t feel this way. He couldn’t feel this way.

Azriel shifted slightly, trying to quiet the tumult within him. Elain was seated beside him, her delicate fingers brushing against his thigh in a silent question. He turned to her, her soft gaze meeting his, and he forced a small nod. “I’m fine,” he murmured, though the words tasted like a lie on his tongue.

But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.

He had wanted to cross the room, to come and sit beside you, to feel that inexplicable comfort that always seemed to radiate from you when you were near. Now that he knew about the bond, everything felt more tangled, more painful. The knowledge weighed heavily on him, suffocating in its clarity. How could you sit there, so normal, so composed, when you had known about this bond for longer than he had?

The thought ate away at him. How had you managed to keep it hidden? How had you endured the ache of it, the pull, without letting it show?

Azriel’s gaze flicked to Elain briefly, guilt tugging at the edges of his thoughts. He shifted subtly away from her, a small, almost imperceptible movement. Out of respect for Lucien, yes. Not that he’d cared before—but now, now he understood. He understood the quiet agony of seeing someone he cared about so deeply sitting with another. It twisted his insides in a way he hadn’t expected.

But it wasn’t just about respect. It was about you.

His shadows coiled tighter around him, reflecting the storm in his mind. He didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to untangle the mess of emotions that had overtaken him since discovering the bond. And the hardest part was the longing—to be near you, to hear your voice, to feel that connection that had only deepened with the knowledge of what you truly were to him.

You were laughing again, the sound clear and unguarded. It was a sound he hadn’t realized he craved until now, and it only added to his torment. The way you leaned slightly toward Lucien, your smile bright, as if there was no weight of a bond tethering you to him. As if he didn’t even exist.

Azriel’s jaw tightened, his wings shifting slightly as he glanced at the floor. He needed a moment, a reprieve from the chaos in his chest. From the knowledge that while you laughed with Lucien, he was the one standing in the shadows, lost and unsure.

You had barely met Azriel’s gaze when Lucien raised an eyebrow at you, the corner of his mouth twitching with amusement. “Right, let’s not talk about the Spring Court, Y/N,” he said, his tone almost teasing.

“How much time did the two of you spend in the Spring Court together?” Feyre asked, her curiosity piqued.

Without missing a beat, you and Lucien answered in unison, “Three weeks.”

The synchronization caught everyone off guard, and a ripple of laughter swept through the room.

You rolled your eyes dramatically and added, “And that was far enough, if you want my opinion.”

Lucien smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Yes, far enough after nearly killing Tamlin, burning part of his estate, and getting proposed to by his last general.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to you. You stared at Lucien in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing for a moment before crossing your legs and taking a deliberate sip of your wine. “That’s so fake,” you said finally, your tone nonchalant. “I didn’t light the fire. I was just there when it happened.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing as he leaned forward slightly. “And tell me, Y/N, just how many people have proposed to you?”

You nearly choked on your wine. “What do you mean, Rhysand? Please.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. Everyone’s attention shifted to you, eyes wide with intrigue. You glanced at Azriel, who had been uncharacteristically quiet, and asked accusingly, “Did you tell him?”

Azriel shook his head immediately, his voice steady. “No, of course not.”

Cassian and Mor, ever the instigators, leaned closer. “Wait, wait,” Cassian said, grinning. “Who else proposed to her? Go on, Rhys. I feel like this is going to be good.”

Rhysand’s smirk widened, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief. “Well,” he began, drawing the word out dramatically, “our sweet head healer of the Night Court could have become the Lady of Dawn, if she had wanted to.”

The reaction was immediate. Mor screamed, her voice full of scandalized delight. “You were with Thesan? Y/N!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Yes,” you admitted reluctantly, “and that’s all you’re going to get to know. End of discussion.” You shot Rhysand a black look, though he only laughed, clearly pleased with himself.

“Well,” you said quickly, trying to change the subject, “it’s not to interrupt, but I’m pretty sure dinner is ready, right?”

Feyre crossed her arms, a knowing look on her face. “If you think you’re going to escape this conversation, Y/N, you’re wrong.”

You sighed dramatically, looking up as if to appeal to the Mother above. “Oh, for the love of the mother,” you muttered, but the room erupted into laughter, the tension giving way to warmth and camaraderie once more.

During dinner, to everyone’s surprise, you found yourself seated next to Azriel. He had deliberately taken the seat beside you, leaving Lucien to sit next to Elain. The shift in seating arrangements caught more than a few curious glances. Elain’s worried look flickered toward Azriel, while Lucien, seated on her other side, raised an eyebrow at the change.

You tried to ignore the questions bubbling in your mind, though it was hard to brush aside the unexpected energy between you and Azriel. While you had resigned yourself to the fact that Azriel cared deeply for Elain, perhaps even loved her, this sudden change left you puzzled.

Amren’s sharp voice cut through the quiet hum of conversation, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is this a new table, Rhysand?” she asked, gesturing to the elegant woodwork beneath her plate.

Rhysand smirked, barely looking up from his plate. “Yes, it is. Y/N and Azriel broke the last one.”

You choked on your wine, coughing violently as heat crept up your neck. The room went silent for a heartbeat before Cassian burst out laughing, followed closely by Mor’s cackling. You covered your mouth, trying to recover as all eyes turned to you.

Amren’s silver eyes sparkled with amusement as she leaned forward slightly. “Well, girl, a High Lord, a General, and now a Spymaster. You’re going for all of them, aren’t you?”

Your jaw dropped as laughter erupted around the table. “Oh, please shut up,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands. You didn’t even dare to glance at Azriel, though you could feel the heat of his gaze lingering. The sharpness of Elain’s eyes, however, was impossible to miss. Her displeasure radiated from her in waves, her expression tightening as she glanced between you and Azriel.

“I’d like to point out,” Cassian added with a grin, “that I wasn’t the one who broke a table for once.”

“That’s not something to be proud of, Cassian,” Nesta muttered beside him, though a faint smirk tugged at her lips.

The table settled back into a hum of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the tension that simmered beneath the surface. Every now and then, you caught Azriel glancing your way, his expression unreadable. And while you tried to keep your focus on the food in front of you, you couldn’t help but feel that this dinner was only the beginning of something far more complicated.

The flow of the dinner had been pleasant enough, though Azriel sitting beside you brought an odd energy you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t uncomfortable, not entirely—but it was different. When it was just the two of you—working, talking, sharing quieter moments—it felt natural, even easy. But tonight, the dynamic felt... forced. Questions swirled in your mind: Did he sit next to you to make her jealous? Why let her mate sit next to her, then? You brushed the thoughts aside, trying to focus on the lively conversations around you.

Dessert was served, and you were half-listening to Feyre and Nesta talk about some shared anecdote when Elain stood abruptly, excusing herself. The movement caught your attention. Lucien’s worried gaze followed her, and when you glanced at Azriel, you noticed the same concern etched into his features. That expression.

The unease it stirred in you was compounded when Elain began moving around the table. Her steps faltered slightly, her balance uneven. You frowned, your healer’s instincts kicking in.

“Elain?” Feyre’s voice held a note of alarm as her sister stumbled closer to where you were seated.

You turned in your chair just in time to see Elain falter entirely. Without thinking, you shot up and caught her as she collapsed, her weight sudden but manageable in your arms. Her head lolled against your shoulder, and a collective gasp rippled through the room. All conversation ceased.

“Elain!” Feyre and Nesta rushed to her side, their faces pale with worry. Lucien moved swiftly to her other side, his hand hovering uncertainly as if unsure whether to touch her. Azriel was right behind him, his shadows curling protectively around him, his expression a mix of alarm and dread.

“Elain, can you hear me?” Feyre’s voice was tight with fear as she knelt beside her sister.

And then it happened. Elain’s eyes snapped open, but they were no longer the soft brown you were accustomed to. They were white—bright, glowing, and unseeing. The sight knocked the breath from your lungs, your grip tightening reflexively as the unnatural glow emanated from her.

“Elain,” Nesta whispered, her voice breaking as she grasped her sister’s hand.

“What’s happening to her?” Lucien demanded, his tone panicked.

You steadied Elain in your arms, trying to process what was happening. Your mind raced as you scanned her for any immediate signs of injury or distress. There was none—nothing physical, at least—but the way her body trembled, her unfocused eyes, sent chills down your spine.

“She’s having a vision,” Azriel said, his voice low and tight. 

Feyre nodded grimly at your question about Elain’s visions. “Yes,” she said, her voice tight. “But... she’s never reacted like this before.”

Elain’s body began trembling more violently, her breathing escalating into rapid, shallow gasps. You quickly moved, lowering her to the ground into a safer position, your movements precise and practiced. “Everyone step back,” you said firmly, your voice cutting through the panic in the room. “Give me space.”

The others obeyed, though their worry was palpable. Feyre knelt near but didn’t interfere, her face pale with fear. Lucien and Azriel hovered nearby, their expressions equally stricken. Nesta stood frozen, her hands clenched into fists.

Elain’s trembling worsened, transitioning into full-body spasms. You glanced sharply at Feyre. “Does she usually react like this?”

Feyre shook her head quickly. “No—this has never happened before.”

Your jaw tightened as you assessed her condition. “Alright,” you murmured, more to yourself than anyone else. With a swift motion, you opened Elain’s mouth and carefully inserted two fingers to hold her tongue down, ensuring she wouldn’t swallow it during the convulsions. Then, your free hand hovered just above her head.

You closed your eyes, focusing your power as it began to flow from you. A faint glow radiated from your hand, and your hair lifted as if caught in an unseen breeze. A hush fell over the room, everyone holding their breath as the air grew heavy under the weight of your power. Azriel’s sharp gaze was fixed on you, his shadows coiling around him in tension.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled.

Elain’s spasms began to subside as your power guided her, pulling her gently from the grip of the vision. The glow from your hand intensified briefly before dimming, and her breathing evened out. Slowly, her body stilled. But as the connection between you and her held firm, something shifted—a thread of her vision snagged onto your mind.

It happened so quickly that you didn’t have time to prepare. One moment you were guiding her back to reality, and the next, you were pulled into the recesses of her mind. Shadows enveloped you, thick and suffocating, until the world reshaped itself into the fragments of her vision.

The ground beneath you was barren, cracked, and lifeless. The air smelled of ash and decay, and the sky above was a swirling void of darkness. There were no stars, no moon—only an oppressive, smothering emptiness. Fires burned in the distance, their flickering light revealing the skeletal remains of a once-thriving land. This place had been wiped clean of life, erased by a force too terrible to comprehend.

You turned, searching for Elain in the chaos. And then you saw her. She stood just ahead, motionless, her expression vacant and unseeing as if she were a mere observer in this apocalyptic scene. You tried to call out to her, to reach her, but your voice was swallowed by the void. She didn’t seem to register your presence, her eyes fixed on the horror unfolding around her.

Your chest tightened, and you were about to take a step toward her when something else caught your attention. Movement in the periphery—a figure in the shadows. It was... you.

At first, you thought it might be a trick of the vision, a warped reflection, but the figure stepped into the light, and there was no mistaking it. It was you, yet not. This version of you was eerily calm, detached. You looked the same, but your expression held an unsettling stillness.

Then the change began. Blood trickled from your nose, then your ears, your eyes, and your mouth. The crimson streaks contrasted sharply against your pale skin, but you didn’t flinch or react. Instead, a faint smile curved your lips, haunting in its serenity.

Elain, still oblivious to your presence, stood frozen, her hand lifting to her mouth in silent horror as she watched the scene unfold.

And then, the darkness took shape. A hand, inky and unnatural, emerged from the shadows, its long, clawed fingers reaching toward the chest of the vision-you. The smile on your face remained as the hand struck in one swift motion, plunging into where your heart should have been.

You felt it. The phantom pain. The void. The absence.

You crumpled to the ground, lifeless, and the darkness seeped into the cracks of the earth, spreading like a disease. Elain whimpered softly in the vision, her form trembling as she stared at your fallen figure. 

The pull of the vision began to loosen, dragging you back to the present. You blinked, gasping for breath as you returned to your body, the sensation of your heart still pounding in your chest grounding you. Elain stirred beneath you, her breathing shaky as her eyes fluttered open.

Your mind reeled, the memory of what you had seen burning fresh in your mind. You didn’t know what the vision meant, but the chilling image of yourself—bleeding, smiling, heartless—was not something you would soon forget.

You exhaled, opening your eyes to see Elain staring up at you. Relief flickered in the room—until, without warning, her hand lashed out and slapped you hard across the face.

The shock reverberated through the room as everyone froze. You blinked, stunned by the sharp sting on your cheek. Slowly, you stood up, gripping the back of the chair nearest to you as if to steady yourself, your knuckles tightening against the wood. But your face remained calm, your expression carefully composed.

“Well,” you said dryly, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, “that’s a new one.”

Feyre and Nesta immediately moved to Elain’s side, helping her sit up as she began to regain full awareness. “Elain, are you okay?” Feyre asked, her voice soft but worried.

Lucien stepped forward, his golden eye flashing with unease. “What happened? Why did she—”

“I don’t think she knew what she was doing,” you interrupted, your tone calm and measured, giving nothing away. You flexed your fingers subtly against the chair, grounding yourself as you continued. “It’s normal for someone to act unpredictably when coming out of a vision that strong.”

Feyre and Nesta gently guided Elain toward the stairs, murmuring reassurances as they helped her to her room. Lucien followed close behind, his expression tight with worry. Azriel, however, didn’t move. His gaze remained locked on you, golden eyes scanning your face with quiet intensity.

Slowly, you let go of the chair, shaking out the tension in your fingers. Your cheek still stung faintly, but it was nothing compared to the weight pressing heavily against your chest.

You sighed softly, glancing at the mess of plates and half-eaten desserts left on the table. It felt like the room itself had absorbed the tension of the evening, the air heavy and stifling.

Mother above, what a night. You straightened, smoothing down your sleeves as you regained your composure. 

Azriel crossed the room in a few swift strides, his shadows curling low around his feet. His hand lifted slowly, hesitating for the briefest of moments before his fingers brushed against your arm—light as a whisper but enough to make your breath catch.

“Are you okay?” His voice was low, almost a murmur, his thumb grazing your sleeve in a subtle, grounding motion.

You blinked, surprised by the question, by the weight in his tone. “I’m—” Your words faltered, the concern in his eyes throwing you off balance. “I’m fine.”

Cassian, ever the mood breaker, smirked. “Great catch, Y/N,” he said with a chuckle.

Azriel’s head turned slightly, casting Cassian a sharp side-eye that practically dripped with unspoken warning. His shadows flared briefly, wrapping tighter around his boots. Cassian raised a brow, but wisely said nothing more.

You tried to smile at Cassian, though it barely reached your eyes. “Thanks, Cassian” you said softly.

Azriel’s fingers tightened briefly on your arm before releasing you. His touch lingered like a ghost, the warmth of it seeping into your skin. His golden gaze remained locked on yours, searching, as though trying to read something written just beneath the surface.

“I’m fine,” you repeated, softer this time, more for him than for anyone else.

He studied you for a second longer, his shadows curling and unfurling around him. His thumb brushed the back of your hand in a fleeting gesture that felt more like a promise than a reassurance.

“Good,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with something you couldn’t quite place. “Let me know if… you need anything.”

For a moment, it felt like you were the only two people in the room, the air between you charged and warm. Then Azriel stepped back, his eyes lingering on you for a heartbeat longer before turning toward the others.

You turned to Rhysand, your voice calm but serious. “How do her visions usually go?”

Rhysand leaned against the edge of the table, his brow furrowed. “Not like that,” he admitted. “She usually comes back to herself without shaking or... whatever that was tonight.”

You nodded, thoughtful. “You’ll need to monitor her closely if this keeps happening. What happened tonight—especially the shaking—is essentially her brain short-circuiting, going on and off repeatedly. I stuck my fingers in her mouth not for pleasure but to prevent her from swallowing her tongue.”

Cassian let out a startled laugh at your bluntness, but you continued without pause. “I helped her out of the vision, but it could be the content of this particular one was too violent, causing her to react that way.”

Lucien, standing stiffly in the doorway, finally spoke. “And if it’s not controlled next time? What happens then?”

You met his gaze evenly, your tone steady but grave. “Asking me that is like asking what would happen if you put a soldier in a war field. There are options, but death is one of them. She could stay in the shaking state without being able to come back to herself or choke—but those are worst-case scenarios.”

The room was quiet as you continued, your voice calm but firm. “It could also completely be a one-time thing. But this is why it has to be monitored carefully.”

Amren leaned back in her chair, her sharp eyes on you. “Well, at least that was clear.”

You smirked faintly at her dry remark. “Clarity is what I aim for.”

Azriel’s eyes lingered on you, his shadows curling faintly around his shoulders as he listened intently.

“I could examine her further,” you added after a moment, “to see if there’s anything else that might explain what happened tonight. But I’d wait until she’s less shaken by it all. Right now, forcing her into anything might make things worse.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression thoughtful. “We’ll keep an eye on her and call for you if it happens again. For now, let’s give her some space to recover.”

Everyone seemed to agree with that plan, though Lucien still looked troubled. The room slowly eased out of its earlier tension, though the weight of what had just occurred lingered in the back of everyone’s minds.

Azriel’s gaze lingered on you, his golden eyes dark with worry. As the room shifted its attention to Feyre and Nesta returning, he leaned closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. The touch sent a ripple of awareness through you.

“Are you sure you are okay?” His voice was low, barely audible over the quiet murmurs of the others.

You blinked, caught off guard by the genuine concern in his tone. Was Azriel truly worried about you?

A soft smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head lightly. “Don’t worry. A little slap isn’t going to kill me,” you said, throwing in a wink to lighten the mood.

Azriel’s lips quirked ever so slightly, but the tension in his shoulders didn’t ease entirely.

Feyre’s voice broke through the moment. “Elain’s sleeping now,” she said, her tone carrying both relief and exhaustion.

Lucien exhaled audibly, a wave of relief washing over his features. Feyre turned to you, her expression warm with gratitude. “Thank you for your help, Y/N. I don’t know what we’d have done without you.”

You nodded, brushing it off lightly. “I’m just glad I was here when it happened.”

Rhysand’s eyes flicked between Feyre and Nesta, his expression sharpening. “Did she tell you anything about her vision?”

The two sisters exchanged a weighted look, Feyre biting her lip before she finally spoke. “Yes,” she said hesitantly, glancing at Nesta for confirmation.

“It’s not good,” Nesta added, her voice steadier but no less grim.

The room fell silent again, everyone waiting for Feyre or Nesta to elaborate. The weight of whatever Elain had seen hung heavy in the air, and you couldn’t help but feel the knot of tension coiling tighter in your chest. Azriel’s hand lingered on your arm for a moment longer before he pulled it away, his expression hardening as he braced for whatever was coming next. 

Feyre exchanged a tense glance with Nesta, the silence thick and suffocating. Then, with a heavy sigh, Feyre began to explain, her voice trembling slightly.

“She told us about what she saw… about death, war, and darkness sweeping over everything. But the most terrifying part was…” Feyre’s voice broke, and she looked at Nesta to continue.

Nesta, ever composed, took over. “She saw you, Y/N. In the middle of it all. And…” She hesitated, her steel facade cracking for just a moment before she forced herself to say it. “She saw you...”

The room fell deathly silent, everyone frozen in place. Azriel, standing beside you, visibly tensed, his golden eyes narrowing as he processed the words.

You straightened, your expression unreadable. The weight of their words wasn’t new to you. You had already seen it yourself in Elain’s vision, and now, hearing it spoken aloud, it only cemented what you had felt.

“I know,” you said quietly, your voice steady but filled with an edge of resignation.

Every head in the room turned to you, confusion and shock flashing across their faces.

“You know?” Feyre asked, her voice almost a whisper.

You nodded slowly. “I saw it too. I’m not sure how, but when I guided Elain out of her vision, pieces of it came to me. I saw what she saw.”

Azriel’s voice cut through the stunned silence, sharp and filled with tension. “Saw what? What exactly did you see?”

You turned to face him, your gaze unwavering, though the effort to maintain your composure was immense. “I saw the moment I die, Azriel.”

The breath seemed to leave the room all at once. Even Amren, ever-unflappable, looked taken aback. Cassian, wide-eyed, shifted uneasily in his seat. Feyre and Nesta exchanged another tense glance, while Rhysand’s expression hardened, his jaw tightening.

“What do you mean, you saw yourself die?” Azriel pressed, his voice low and strained, his shadows coiling around him like a living entity. His hand hovered near your arm again, as though he wanted to hold on to you, to ground himself in your presence.

You gave a bitter smile, the weight of the truth pressing down on you. “Exactly what it sounds like. She saw me die, and so did I. What do you want me to say? It’s not a matter of if, but when.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened, and the raw emotion in his eyes was almost unbearable to look at. “You can’t just… accept that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with an edge of desperation. “There has to be something we can do. We can stop it—”

“You think I haven’t thought of that?” you interrupted, your tone sharp but not unkind. “I’ve lived long enough to know that sometimes, no matter what you do, fate has its way.”

Rhysand’s voice broke through, calm but commanding. “What exactly did you see, Y/N?”

You hesitated, the image flashing in your mind. The darkness, the war, and that final moment when everything stopped, and you fell. “I saw the world in chaos—death everywhere. And then I saw myself... my blood, my heart—gone. I felt it as much as I saw it.”

Azriel took a step closer to you, his shadows curling protectively around him. His golden eyes were locked onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “I don’t accept that,” he said firmly. “We’ll find a way to stop it. Whatever it takes.”

For a moment, the room was quiet, everyone digesting the gravity of the revelation. Then Amren, leaning back in her chair, spoke up, her voice cool but filled with an edge of challenge. “If fate has marked you, Y/N, then the question is not if we can stop it, but what it will cost.”

Her words hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the uncertain path ahead. You swallowed hard, the weight of the vision and its implications pressing down on you. But even as the room seemed to drown in its tension, you squared your shoulders, lifting your chin.

“Whatever happens,” you said softly, “it doesn’t change what I need to do now. We have time—maybe not much, but enough to prepare.”

As the heavy silence settled in the room, you could feel the weight of everyone’s gaze on you. Rhysand’s sharp violet eyes held yours for a long moment before he finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with an undertone of unease. “Y/N,” he began, “would you allow me to see it? The vision?”

You hesitated, the thought of someone else witnessing what you had seen unsettling, but you nodded nonetheless. “Go ahead,” you said softly, standing your ground. Rhysand approached you carefully, his movements deliberate, as though he didn’t want to startle you.

His mental touch was gentle, like a soft whisper brushing against your thoughts. You let him in, showing him the fractured, haunting glimpses of the vision—darkness, war, your bloodied form crumbling to the ground.

When he pulled back, his expression was tight, his jaw clenched. A faint twitch betrayed his composed demeanor.

“Don’t pity me, Rhysand,” you said, your tone firm, though there was a flicker of something softer beneath it. “I died once. I’ve been blessed by the Mother, and I’ve accepted that one day, that favor will need to be returned.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and final. Azriel’s golden eyes locked onto you, his shadows coiling tightly around him. His expression was unreadable, but the look in his eyes was anything but. It was a mix of disbelief, worry, and something else you couldn’t quite place—something that made your chest tighten.

The tension in the room shifted, the atmosphere changing as people slowly began to disperse, their expressions ranging from solemn to thoughtful. Conversations were hushed, and one by one, the Inner Circle left to retreat to their rooms or find solace in other parts of the house.

You needed air. The weight of the vision, the discussions, and the gazes filled with unspoken questions were too much. Slipping out quietly, you made your way to the garden of the townhouse. The cool night air brushed against your skin, soothing in its simplicity. The stars above were bright, scattered across the inky sky like a promise of something eternal.

You found a bench near the center of the garden and sank onto it, tilting your head back to take in the view. The stars twinkled softly, distant and untouchable, yet strangely comforting. For a moment, you let yourself breathe, the crisp air filling your lungs as you tried to untangle the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

The quiet of the garden wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. After some time, you felt a presence approach—a familiar one—and moments later, a warmer jacket was draped over your shoulders. You turned your head slightly to see Azriel sitting down beside you, his movements careful and deliberate. He didn’t speak, didn’t try to fill the silence, and instead, he leaned back to look up at the sky, mirroring your own posture.

For a while, the two of you simply sat there, the stars above a quiet audience to the unspoken words lingering between you. Eventually, unable to bear the weight of the silence any longer, you turned to him and asked, “Aren’t you going to ask me what I’m doing here?”

Still gazing upward, Azriel’s voice was low, steady. “Once, someone told me that sometimes no words need to be spoken. But if you want to talk…” Finally, he turned his head to look at you, his golden eyes catching the faint moonlight. “I’m here.”

A small laugh escaped you, soft but genuine. “Are you actually quoting me?” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azriel’s lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. “Maybe.”

Your laughter faded into the cool night air, replaced by a quieter moment as the gravity of everything settled back in. After a moment, Azriel’s voice broke through the stillness, softer this time. “How?”

You turned to him, your brow furrowing slightly. “How what?”

“How can you accept what you saw so easily?” he asked, his gaze dropping to the ground as though the question was too heavy to lift.

You hesitated, unsure how to answer, then sighed. “I don’t know, Azriel. I really don’t.”

He exhaled softly, the sound tinged with frustration, and his voice was almost a whisper when he spoke again. “Don’t behave like your death won’t affect other people.”

Your breath caught at his words, and when you turned to look at him, his hand slowly reached out, his fingers brushing against yours before curling gently around your hand. His touch was warm, grounding.

“Like it won’t affect me,” he added, his voice barely audible now, but the weight of his words settled heavily between you.

Your eyes widened slightly, your heart stumbling over itself as you processed the raw honesty in his voice. You turned your gaze back to the sky, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. After a long pause, you found the courage to ask, “When did you figure it out?”

Azriel’s grip on your hand tightened just slightly, as though he was anchoring himself to you. “Figure what out?” he asked, his tone cautious, even though you both knew exactly what you meant.

The bond hummed faintly between you, a quiet rhythm you’d learned to live with but had never fully embraced. You turned back to him, meeting his gaze directly, and whispered, “That I’m your mate.”

The moment stretched between you, heavy with emotions you had never allowed yourself to fully feel. Azriel's words hung in the air like an unanswered prayer, and when he finally spoke again, his voice was soft but resolute.

"The moment we nearly died on our way back from Dawn," he said, his gaze unwavering.

“Oh,” was all you could manage, your voice barely above a whisper. After a pause, he tilted his head slightly and asked, “And you? When did you know?”

Your throat tightened as you glanced away, searching for the courage to speak the truth. “When I saved your life at the House of Wind,” you admitted softly.

He was quiet for a moment, his golden eyes fixed on you. “Oh,” was his only response.

And then the question you had been dreading fell from his lips. “Why? Why haven’t you said anything?”

You turned sharply, your face a mask of incredulity. “Are you seriously asking me this now, Azriel? Look at you—with Elain.” Your voice broke slightly, but you steadied yourself. “I barely knew you at the time. What would you have wanted from me then? You loved her—or at least you thought you did. What would you have done if you were in my place?”

“I don’t love her,” he said firmly, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

You shot him a sidelong glance, disbelief clouding your features. “Azriel, this—this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell you. I don’t want this to be forced.” You took a shaky breath, your voice trembling. “You deserve someone better, much better than me. And definitely not someone who’s... who’s destined to die soon.”

He tried to interrupt, his expression pained, but you raised a hand to stop him. “No, please. You’re one of the kindest, most selfless people I’ve ever met. You’ve dedicated your life to protecting others, to doing what’s right. And I—I just can’t, Azriel. I can’t give you what you deserve.”

You turned fully to him now, your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The heaviness in your chest felt unbearable, as if the weight of your fears and regrets were finally demanding release. “I work with death every day,” you began, your voice trembling but growing stronger with each word. “Every single day, I watch it take and take and take. I’ve seen families shattered into pieces—mothers begging me to save their children, lovers screaming for someone to bring their person back.”

Azriel’s gaze softened as he took in the storm of emotions pouring from you, his golden eyes following every movement as you began to pace. “I’ve had fathers collapse in my arms because I couldn’t save their wives. Sisters sobbing, clutching me like I was the only thing keeping them tethered to this world. And I...” You paused, pressing a trembling hand to your chest, the lump in your throat growing unbearable. “I can’t—I won’t—be the reason someone else ends up in that position because of me.”

The words tumbled from you, raw and unfiltered, as though they’d been waiting for this moment to escape. “Do you know what that’s like? To carry that? Every mistake, every failure—it haunts you. It lives inside you. And knowing that one day, I’ll be the one taken... that I could leave someone behind, someone I care about... I can’t do that to anyone, Azriel. I just can’t.”

Your steps faltered as the rawness of your confession left you breathless, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself as if you could hold yourself together through sheer will. Azriel remained silent, his eyes following you with an intensity that made your skin prickle. His shadows stirred softly at his feet, as though they wanted to reach out to you but were unsure how.

“Why do you think I’ve always left?” you demanded, turning toward him suddenly, your voice rising. “Why do you think I’ve never stayed anywhere for long? Why do you think I’ve never let anyone get close, too close to me? Why do you think I’ve never been able to have something... someone real?”

Your voice cracked on the last word, and you could feel yourself unraveling. “I’m terrified, Azriel. I’m terrified of death—of what it takes, of what it leaves behind. It’s not just the pain or the loss... it’s the emptiness it leaves in its wake. And I can’t bear the thought of someone else feeling that emptiness because of me.”

Snow began to fall softly around you, the first flakes catching in your hair and melting against your flushed cheeks. You barely noticed, your heart hammering in your chest as the emotions you’d kept buried for so long spilled out in a torrent. The cold air stung your lungs, but you welcomed it, letting it ground you.

Your knees buckled, and you sank to the ground as though the weight of your confession had finally crushed you. The snow gathered in the folds of your clothes, a stark contrast to the heat burning behind your eyes. “And I’m just so, so sorry that I’m your mate,” you choked out, your voice cracking as tears spilled freely down your face.

Azriel knelt beside you without hesitation, his movements slow and deliberate as though he were approaching something fragile. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into the warmth and steadiness of his chest as your sobs wracked your body. You clung to him, the snowfall around you a quiet witness to the storm raging inside you.

“I’m so sorry, Azriel,” you whispered again, your voice muffled against his shoulder. “I’m sorry I’m your mate. I’m sorry I can’t be what you deserve. I’m sorry for... for all of it.”

His arms tightened around you, his shadows curling protectively, almost soothingly. His voice was low and soft when he finally spoke, the words barely audible over the sound of your own broken breathing. “Don’t you dare apologize for being you,” he murmured, his tone steady, even as his own emotions threatened to break through.

The snow continued to fall, blanketing the garden in a quiet stillness that seemed to echo the rawness of the moment. Azriel’s warmth surrounded you, his presence grounding you even as the storm inside you raged on.

Azriel froze for a moment, his golden eyes locking onto yours, filled with something you couldn’t quite name—something that made your chest tighten. Slowly, almost reverently, his hands rose to gently cup your face, his calloused thumbs brushing away the tears streaking your cheeks. The tenderness in his touch made your breath catch, your heart thundering in your chest.

He tilted your head up, his shadows curling softly around your shoulders, as though they were trying to reassure you in their own way. “Look at me,” he murmured, his voice steady but laced with raw emotion. The words were both a command and a plea, grounding you in the storm of your thoughts. “Just... look at me.”

For a heartbeat, everything else fell away—the snow, the cold, the pain. It was just him, his golden eyes burning with an intensity that made your knees tremble even though you were already on the ground.

And then, without warning, his lips were on yours.

It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a lifeline. Gentle at first, as if he were afraid you’d shatter under his touch, but then deeper, insistent, grounding. A warmth spread through you, chasing away the chill of the snow, as if his very being was pulling you back from the edge. Your eyes widened in shock, your mind struggling to process what was happening. But then, as the bond between you pulsed like a drumbeat in your veins, you melted into him, your hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic as if letting go would undo you completely.

The bond roared to life, the connection between you blazing with an intensity that stole your breath. You felt it in every fiber of your being—a tether that had always been there, humming quietly in the background, now surging forward with undeniable force. His shadows wrapped around you, cocooning you in their embrace, a silent promise of safety and devotion.

The kiss broke, leaving both of you gasping for air, your foreheads pressed together. His hands didn’t leave your face, his thumbs still brushing against your skin, as though anchoring you to the moment. The bond pulsed between you, vibrant and alive, and you swore you could feel his heartbeat echoing in time with yours.

Azriel’s voice, when he finally spoke, was a low murmur, trembling with a quiet intensity that sent shivers down your spine. “Are you done?” he asked, his lips quirking into a faint, almost teasing smile. “Because it’s my turn to talk now.”

His words hung in the air between you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt something other than fear—hope.

Azriel’s gaze pierced through you, deep and unwavering, as though he was stripping away every wall you had ever built, leaving you bare before him. The snow continued to fall around you, cold and relentless, yet you barely noticed it. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, kneeling in the snow, your breaths mingling in the frosty air.

“Y/N,” Azriel began, his voice low but filled with a vulnerability you’d never heard from him before. “You are the person who’s made me see the world differently.” He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “The first moment I laid eyes on you, I felt... something. It was like I was drawn to you, like there was this force pulling me toward you, even though I didn’t understand it.”

His words were heavy, laden with emotion. You couldn’t look away, caught in the raw honesty of his confession.

“It took me months to figure out why,” he continued, his shadows curling faintly around him as though reflecting his inner turmoil. “Why I felt like I could tell you things I’ve never even told my brothers. Why, when I was with you, I didn’t feel like I had to hide the parts of me I’ve spent centuries locking away. It was as if you could see me—truly see me—and not turn away.”

Your heart ached at his words, your chest tightening with the weight of his emotions.

“I didn’t understand it at first,” he said, his voice softening. “Why I ended up at the clinic that night of the solstice. Why I fell asleep so easily in your space, a place that felt more like home than anywhere else has in years. Why, in Dawn, every moment I spent away from you felt wrong, like I was missing something vital. And then...” He hesitated, his jaw tightening. “When I saw you with Thesan, I felt this rage, this jealousy that I couldn’t explain. And that night, when the storm came, I accepted that I would die—because being with you in that moment, even if it was the end, felt right.”

His voice cracked, and you felt your breath hitch as his words pressed against the tender parts of your heart.

“And then you saved us,” Azriel whispered, his shadows curling around you both now, a silent embrace. “And the bond snapped into place, and everything suddenly made sense. And gods, I’ve hated myself every day since for talking to you about Elain—for putting you through that pain without even knowing it.”

You couldn’t stop the tears that slipped down your cheeks, and you reached up, placing your hand on his face. His golden eyes closed briefly at your touch, leaning into your palm as though it grounded him.

“And tonight,” he went on, his voice trembling with emotion, “when I saw you with Lucien, I felt it again. That jealousy. The way you smiled, the way you laughed with him... I wanted to be in his place so badly it hurt.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, thick with self-loathing. “And I know I don’t deserve you. Gods, I’ve been the worst to you. But, Y/N, you are everything I didn’t know I needed. You are smart, strong, considerate. You light up the room just by being in it. You make everyone around you better, just by existing. It is so, so easy to fall in love with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat, his words wrapping around you like a balm to your battered soul.

“And even if it’s for a year, or a month, or a single day,” Azriel said, his voice breaking, “I want to spend it with you. I want to be close to you, to be by your side, for however long we have.”

He reached out then, his hands trembling as they cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears. His gaze burned into yours, his bond thrumming with a quiet, steady pulse that matched your own. “Please, Y/N. Let me be with you.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, the sound soft and almost disbelieving as it fell between your lips. Your head dropped forward, resting gently against Azriel’s chest, his shirt dampening slightly with your tears. The both of you had shifted completely onto the ground, no longer kneeling but sitting in the snow. You were nearly in his lap, his arms instinctively wrapping around you, pulling you closer as though he feared you might disappear.

“I-I just don’t want you to feel obligated because of what happened tonight,” you murmured against his chest, your voice trembling. “I don’t want this to be out of pity.”

Azriel stilled for a moment, and then his hands cupped your face with such gentleness it made your breath hitch. He tilted your head upward, his golden eyes meeting yours, before leaning down and kissing you again—deeper this time, the connection searing into your very soul. It wasn’t hurried or desperate but deliberate, a kiss that held every unspoken word, every ounce of feeling he hadn’t yet been able to say.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, and his hand moved to your shoulder, grounding himself in your presence as his scent wrapped around you. His shadows curled around the both of you like a protective cocoon, their touch faint and reassuring.

“Never, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. “Never out of pity. I’ve long made up my mind about how I feel about you. Even if everything feels like a mess—if everything is wrong—I will never fall in love with you out of pity.”

The last words were so quiet, they were almost inaudible, but you heard them. And they wrapped around your heart, filling the cracks you hadn’t even realized were there.

Your hands moved on instinct, slipping inside his jacket as you hugged him closer, seeking his warmth and steadiness. Your palm pressed gently against his back, and your fingers began tracing soft circles at the base of his wings. Whether it was to reassure yourself that this moment was real or to offer him comfort, you didn’t know. Maybe it was both.

Azriel let out a quiet sigh, his chin resting lightly against your head as he held you. The snow continued to fall around you, the icy flakes melting against the shared heat between you. Neither of you spoke for a long time, the silence filled with the steady rhythm of your breathing, the faint pulse of the bond humming quietly between you.

For the first time in a long time, you felt something you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel in years: safe. And in Azriel’s arms, with his shadows weaving around you, it felt like you’d finally found the place where you belonged.

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[acourtofmishapandmistakes]

Soothing Steam

Azriel & Reader as Parents

Word Count: 999

Summary: When your new babe struggles to sleep through the night, you finally resort to taking a hot shower with your babe. Azriel joins you later on to help with soothing.

Content Warning: Nothing sexual, just fluff, but mention of nudity.

For the past half hour, you had been pacing through the townhouse, your baby wailing incessantly in your arms. You had tried everything: a tighter swaddle, rocking, feeding, singing—nothing seemed to help. If anything, her cries had only intensified. Looking down at her little face, you took a deep breath, struggling to keep your frustration in check. 

Exhausted from the relentless crying, you decided it was time to pull out all the stops. You made your way to the bathroom and turned on the shower, recalling how the mix of soothing sounds, hot water, and your body heat had calmed your baby after a particularly messy diaper incident. You quickly stripped, wrestling with your little one's flailing arms and taking care not to disturb her delicate wings. Carefully, you pressed her against your chest and stepped under the spray, letting the warm water hit your back first. As you gently bounced her, the intensity of her screams began to lessen.

You exhaled deeply as the screams subsided into soft gurgles and babbling sounds. Humming gently, you hoped the vibrations from your chest would lull her back to sleep. Just then, Azriel peeked into the steam-filled bathroom. His hair was tousled from sleep, and dressed in just his underwear and t-shirt, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Seeing you with the baby, he offered a knowing smile. As you continued to gently bounce and rock your little one, you returned his smile, a wave of exhaustion washing over you. 

Azriel wandered over, easing the glass shower door open to run his hand gently over the back of your baby's head.

"I can take over," he offered.

You managed a tired smile. "You were up with her just an hour ago, it’s okay."

His eyes remained fixed on your little one. "Do you think she’s sick? She’s not usually this fussy."

"I’m not sure," you replied, continuing to bounce her. "There’s no cough, no fever."

He pondered for a moment. "Maybe the steam from the shower is soothing her."

"Maybe," you conceded, brushing damp hair from your face and tracing your finger soothingly up and down your baby’s back. "It could just be the warmth and the sound that’s comforting her."

Your little one fussed in your arms, letting out a soft whine before it escalated into a wail. "Oh no," you murmured, quickening the pace of your rocking.

Without a word, Azriel pulled his shirt over his head, stripped down, and joined you in the shower, closing the glass door behind him. He wrapped his arms around both of you, allowing your baby to nestle between your bodies. He rested his chin on your head and swayed gently from side to side as you shushed your baby's cries.

Feeling her father's presence against her back seemed to calm her slightly; her whimpers softened and she began to close her eyes.

"When was the last time you fed her?" Azriel whispered, his hands drawing soothing lines along your back.

"About fifteen minutes ago, but she wasn't interested," you replied, gently kissing the top of her head as you continued to sway together in the warm embrace of the shower.

"Do you want to take her to Madja tomorrow? Just to get her checked. Even if it's just sleep regression, it couldn't hurt," Azriel suggested.

You looked down at your babe, nestled between your chest and Azriel's, her tiny pink lips parting softly as she breathed, finally seeming to drift to sleep.

"Maybe," you murmured after a moment.

Azriel reached behind and turned off the water, then pulled a warm towel from above the shower to wrap around you and your daughter. She let out a soft groan but remained asleep. Azriel hugged both of you again, planting a gentle kiss on your forehead as you leaned against his shoulder.

"You’re a wonderful mother," he whispered.

You scoffed lightly, "I wish I knew what to do."

"You're doing everything you can. We both are. She’s just an enigma."

You chuckled, letting him towel-dry your hair. "I thought they weren’t supposed to be this complicated until they were at least fifty."

"I think it’s funny that you thought, with me as a dad and you as her mom, we wouldn’t end up with a moody, complicated little one."

You looked up at him, noticing how the water traced paths down his broad shoulders and chest. He was stunning—the most beautiful creature you had ever seen, and he was all yours. Together, you had created the most incredible little being, with your eyes and Azriel’s black hair, now just beginning to grow in. You carefully dabbed the towel on her tiny, damp curls that seemed to curl even more when wet.

Azriel slid open the shower door and steadied you as you stepped out. He quickly dried off and slipped back into his shirt and shorts, while you gently patted your babe dry. Once dressed, he extended his arms toward her. “Here, let me take her so you can get dressed.” You handed her over, and although she squirmed a bit, she remained asleep in her father’s arms. Azriel swayed gently, bringing his nose close to breathe in her scent—a beautiful mix of both of you that you both loved.

While you dried off, Azriel walked back to your shared bedroom. By the time you were dressed and followed him, you found Azriel lying in bed, your daughter resting on his chest. Her tiny arms and legs splayed out, gripping his shirt. Azriel’s hands were lazily draped over her back, his lips slightly parted. In sleep, father and daughter had never looked more alike.

You approached the bed, gently moving his hands so you could pick her up. Carrying her to your side of the bed, you placed her in her bassinet. She stirred slightly but settled quickly into the soft bedding. You traced a finger down her chubby cheek, then allowed Azriel’s shadows to spin softly above her, creating a makeshift mobile.

[seat-safety-switch]

Ted Genocide looks at me, and says: rookie, it's time to take the war to the bugs. They can't take our homes like this.

I can't disagree, but I think his enthusiasm is a bit misplaced. This is just my summer job, a break between my college courses of Advanced Endocrinology and Beginner Astrophysics. If you ask me, and nobody did before the big incident, I think that being exposed to this level of hostility in the workplace is bad for everyone, not just the termites and cockroaches we were trying to get rid of. Even if the giant fibreglass beetle on top of the pest-control Econoline made a pretty cool sound whenever we drove through the runway tunnel near the airport, I was happy to be done with the job.

Ted stops, sniffs the air. By now, I've learned not to talk to him when he gets like this, and he gets like this a lot. A lifetime of chemicals, I assumed. My mom agrees whenever I call home and tell her about how my week went. She's concerned, but doesn't want to smother me too much. Working on her marriage with my step-father, who believes children should be raised by the Vietnam War, like he wasn't. I wait for Ted to say something. My feet are cold and I wish I were in the van, listening to the local Top 40 station tell me about how bad the local politicians are, their entire "bit" synthesized by the station's intern. Now that would be a job I'd be able to enjoy. Wouldn't be picking up so many dead rats, that's for sure.

After a couple minutes, Ted remembers that I'm there. He puts one finger to his mouth, and points to the basement of this townhouse. Which is funny, because I didn't remember seeing a door to the basement when we came in here. There's one there now, though. He tells me to go back to the van, wait for him there.

As I watch Ted descend into the hissing, chittering mass of what would later be called the Hellmouth of Orkin®, I realize today is his turn to pay for lunch. Cheap bastard is going to stiff me on Subway Wednesday, of all days.

[adifferentsortofstrength]

Close to Her Chest

Part One

This is the first writing I have ever put out into the world, so please be kind ♥︎

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Elain x Azriel

Our story begins shortly after The Incident on Solstice. I'll do my best to be canon compliant/adjacent but it's been a while since I reread the whole series. I'm not sure how far I'll take this piece, but the only way to begin is to begin.

I'll add any pertinent tags below.

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Even in the dark of winter, Elain found it easier to breathe beneath the sky. The chill of the air had a lessened effect in this new Fae body of hers, leaving her numb but not immediately frozen to her core as it would have before.

More often than not, she found herself slipping silently out into the gardens once the family had taken their leave from the dinner table. She couldn’t stand the flickering firelight of the townhouse sitting room for more than a moment. Having to listen to her family, her friends, happily chattering away while she herself was all but decaying inside… it was enough to drive her mad.

Only a week ago, in the dark of the longest night of the year, the crackling fire in the hearth had been a comfort. A muted backdrop to what Elain had thought would be a pivotal moment in her life, the moment that she chose to take control of her fate.

But now the angry popping of the logs was just a taunting reminder of the silence that fell after.

This was a mistake.

For months, there had been a static building between her and Azriel. It was palpable in the air, clung to her skin after the briefest brush of their hands, was alight in the gazes they exchanged across a crowded room. And yet somehow, it seemed only she alone had sensed it.

That much was clear now.

This was a mistake.

In the aftermath, the pendant lying on her breast burned as though it was discharging all of that pent up static into her. When her trembling fingers unclasped it, placed it gingerly upon the lingering pile of Solstice gifts, Elain felt the static leave her. And ever since, there was nothing but numbness in its place.

This was a mistake.

Wandering amongst the burlap covered plants, her fingers trailing carelessly through the dusting of snow, the numbness of her heart now echoed in that of her skin.

Distantly, she could still hear her family talking and laughing together. Azriel had been noticeably absent from all gatherings this past week, and her stomach dropped at the thought that she was keeping him from enjoying time with the people he loved.

As if the embarrassment and shame around her behavior on Solstice wasn’t torturous enough, the sudden onslaught of guilt at the thought of depriving him of his family sent her knees out from under her.

A sob escaped her lips before she could bring an ice-cold hand up to muffle the sound. Elain had never wished for the ability to winnow more than she did in this moment.

If only she could disappear into the night, stepping out somewhere far from this cold garden path, maybe then she could grant her family a bit of reprieve from the burden of her presence.

A frozen gust of wind whipped around her, and all at once the now familiar sensation of her Sight sparked through her veins. As she felt herself slipping further from her body, Elain’s last coherent thought was a morbid hope that maybe no one would find her out here.

Maybe she could simply drift away, out here in this cold and desolate garden, surrounded by the corpses of the plants she had nurtured and cared for all year. It felt poetic somehow, because unlike her plants which would return vibrant and alive come spring, the feelings she had nurtured quietly within herself for the last year had little chance of surviving the final weeks of winter.

⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱⋰⋱

A week had passed since Solstice, and Azriel had barely slept at all. Immediately after receiving the order from Rhys to stay away from Elain, he had been sent to Illyria to gather intel on the rising unrest amongst some of the more isolated clans.

Having done all he could there, he flew now towards the townhouse. The sun had set already and he knew that his family would be finished with their meal, gathering in the sitting room for the evening.

As he circled lower over Velaris, his shadows began to rise around him, suddenly twisting and pulling against his skin, as if urging him to hurry. They led him not to the front door of the house, but instead deep into the frozen gardens. They whispered She is there! She is there!

Understanding immediately who they meant, he landed rapidly amongst the rows of covered bushes and trellises.

It took mere moments to locate her, and what he saw sent the chill of the night straight to his heart.

Elain, beautiful, lovely Elain, was lying along the edge of the garden path. She had no coat or cloak, no gloves or even a scarf to keep her warm. The snow had formed a halo around her, and as he approached he could see that she was lost in a vision, the whites of her eyes barely visible under her dark lashes.

She had clearly collapsed here, her legs curled beneath her, her hands resting haphazardly in the snow by her shoulders. He couldn’t tell how long she had been like this, but it was long enough that her lips were blue and a slight frost had gathered across her skin.

Azriel summoned a thick wool blanket with his shadows, and hurriedly wrapped it around her as he gathered Elain into his arms. Placing a scarred hand against her face, he leaned in, cocooning his wings around them, desperately willing the heat of his body to warm hers.

“Elain,” he whispered, not wanting to startle her, “Elain, please come back to me. Please open your eyes.”

Her pulse was sluggish, and though he could see her faint breath misting from her parted lips, she did not stir.

In a moment of rash indifference, not caring for what consequences may befall him, Azriel felt himself slipping into shadow, and stepping out in the middle of the sitting room.

“Azriel?”, Feyre was the first to acknowledge him, the others turning in surprise at his sudden appearance.

“Azriel, what-“, Rhys started, before his eye caught on the small figure clutched in his arms.

“I found her in the garden, nearly frozen. None of you noted her absence? No one thought to check on her?”, he was nearly growling now, and still Elain did not move beyond the shallow rise and fall of her chest.

“How long has it been since any one of you has seen her? How long had she been out there alone?”, he continued, simmering rage barely contained in his words.

He stalked over to the fire, his shadows piling on more logs and stoking the flames higher, and knelt before it. In truth, this was the closest he had been to open flame since his hands had been disfigured. While he had slowly grown accustom to sitting in those chairs closest to the hearth, kneeling here within arms reach was another trial all together.

But in this moment, he did not fall back, refusing to release his hold on the slowly thawing form in his arms.

“Everyone, out, now”, he vaguely heard Rhys command, drowned out by the boiling blood rushing in his ears.

“Azriel-”, it was Feyre, gently approaching and settling onto her knees beside them.

He couldn’t form a coherent thought, couldn’t speak aloud the words that threatened to spill from his mouth, lest he reveal the utter distaste and rage at their complete disregard for this most precious being in his arms.

Before Rhys could speak again, before he inevitably tried to take her from him again, Azriel once more placed his hand against her cheek. It had warmed slightly, a soft pink pallor now spreading across her skin.

Elain.

Elain.

Elain.

At this point, he wasn’t sure if he was merely thinking the word or speaking it aloud, reverently, like a prayer to whatever gods might be listening. He no longer saw anything but her face, felt nothing but the steady beating of her heart, and no one, not even Rhysand, could tear him from her in this moment.

Elain suddenly sighed, her eyes fluttering fully closed, as she shifted her body closer, curling against him. As her hand slowly found its way up his chest to the bare skin of his neck, he released a breath and clutched her tighter.

Her fingers were still icily cold, but they were brushing gently through the hair at the base of his scalp. Relishing this close contact, he would have been content to remain here with her in this moment forever. But the fact was that they were not alone, and even as he kept his eyes on her, he could feel Rhysand and Feyre’s on him.

“Elain”, he breathed, barely more than a whisper, tears of relief threatening to spill free from his eyes.

At that, Elain’s eyes opened again, still slightly hazed from her vision but once again warm and so richly brown they were nearly molten.

“Azriel?” It came out as a whisper, her hand stilling against his neck, as her brow furrowed in confusion.

Azriel, let her go now. Let Feyre check on her. Rhys spoke directly into his mind now, the words a clear command.

He spoke back, You can’t order me to do that, the words an echo of those he had uttered only a week prior, when Elain decides she is ready to get up, she will, and lowered his mental shield into place. If Rhysand had something more to say, he could say it out loud, in front of his mate.

“I found you, in the garden”, He dared to brush his thumb across her cheek, “You must have had a vision and collapsed. You had no coat, and were half frozen by the time I got you inside.”

At that her eyes cleared a but more, as if remembering what she had seen. Her fingers resumed drifting through his hair, and she whispered, “Oh…”

“Elain? Are you alright? We’re so sorry, we didn’t realize you had gone outside. I thought you had gone up to bed and-“, at Feyre’s voice, Elain started and pulled away from him, knowing now that they were not alone here.

She couldn’t quite get herself upright, so Azriel reluctantly rose and set her into the nearest armchair, taking just one more moment to tuck the blanket around her shoulders, before retreating. Her eyes tracked him across the room, and he suddenly couldn’t remember a time he had felt so empty, the absence of her leaving him feeling hollow and cold.

Rhysand once again tapped against his mental wall, and he acquiesced this time, bracing for what was sure to be more reprimand and orders.

We will speak about this later. Rhys’s voice sounded flat in his mind.

Fine. He replied, before slamming the shields back into place, shoving out his High Lord more aggressively than ever before.

Elain looked to Feyre then, a numb mask slipping over her face as she asked, “Can you take me to my room please?”

Feyre nodded only once before casting a look over her shoulder towards him and then her mate. Uncertainty shone in her eyes, but she grasped Elain’s outstretched hand and winnowed them away.

Before Rhys could start in on him, Azriel too took his leave, disappearing into his shadows, no sure destination in mind.

∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴∴

Authors note: I always felt that the both of them would be utterly miserable and despondent after Solstice. Poor Elain, suffering yet another rejection, not understanding where she had gone wrong. The feelings of loss and confusion consuming her, similar but somehow worse even than after Greyson. And Azriel, questioning where his true loyalties lie, rebelling against that sense of owing Rhysand for taking him under his proverbial wing as a child, torn between doing what he was conditioned to do and what his heart is begging him to.

I have many thoughts as to how their story could play out. This fic is acting as a sort of writing exercise as I work up to starting my original story that I’ve been mulling over in my head for nearly a decade. If I can keep it together enough to continue, this fic will probably find its way over to AO3 eventually.

Expect to find angst, secret meetings, chance run ins, pining, hidden trysts, and overdue confrontation amongst other things in subsequent installments.

[atsadi-shenanigans]

Tightrope and Lace

Astarion has a proposition: you’d look lovely in rope. And you shouldn’t be the only one who gets to dress for the occasion. Rated extremely Explicit.

Like a lotta questionable decisions in your life, this one also starts with four words.

“I have a proposition, darling.”

Okay, so that’s five words. But Astarion uses “darling” the same way the man deigns to breathe, so it don’t count.

It’s an hour after sundown. The last traces of pink light smear low on the horizon, behind the lit towers and buildings of the city. Warmth still clings to the stones of y’all’s townhouse, and your hair is still damp from your bath.

Astarion pads up behind you, and his cool fingers trace softly down the back of your neck. A shiver races along after them. Which he know’ll happen.

“Uh huh?” you say all non-committal, because the last time he said that to you it involved a phial of arsonists oil, the city watch, and the stray cat incident.

Y’all are still in your sleepwear. Well, he is. Soft, loose trousers and his bare chest against your back. You actually had to throw on a mumu (they call it a shift) after bathing, and that bitch is see-through in direct light, but y’all ain’t expecting visitors and it’s chilly enough you don’t want to walk around bare today.

(Fuck the heat.)

That mumu is thin enough you feel the first stirring of his intent against your ass.

“Uh huh,” you say, much more interested.

He nuzzles in, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear. Down the side of your neck to drag his teeth over the fain scars you now carry there.

Feeding and fucking ain’t always synonymous with him—sometimes a man is just plain old hungry. It often is, though, and his cock is definitely starting to pay attention.

“Come back to bed,” he says.

“I’m hungry.”

He hums. Nibbles at you again and his hands move to your front. One lifts to cup a breast, while the other trails down, down to slip between your legs.

“So am I,” he says and he had to’ve practiced that line.

Except you’re up and washed for a reason. The night market is opening, and y’all are getting low on provisions. You want soup, goddamnit, and y’all are somehow out of both onions and fucking salt. Plus, if you get there soon, you can grab yourself a chicken before they all get snatched up (thank you Gale for teaching you how to defeather and dress them little dumplings).

(Ooh, chicken and dumplings sounds great.)

So you, very reluctantly, push his hands away. Turn in the circle of his arms—you don’t get a chance to talk before he leans in for a kiss. He’s gentle, this evening. You fall into it a little, until his teeth find your lower lip.

This’ll get out of control (y’all have fucked on this counter more than once already). And you need provisions.

So you break off. He tries to follow, and groans when you don’t let him.

“So selfish, leaving me here like this,” the man whines.

And the idea blooms in your mind. Your breath catches and a tendril of warmth shoots between your legs. Astarion, with his fucking vampire hearing honed in on your cardiac uptick, raises an eyebrow and a sly smile slides across his face.

“What if, um,” you say. “What if you weren’t the only one left wanting?”

“Oh?”

Your cheeks are warm. You bite your lip (and catch how he stares).

“What if we got the rope?”

The rest on AO3 cause I don't wanna get thrown into horny jail.

[desideriumwriter]

Summer At Grimmaulds | CH 1

Chapter Summary - Your parents bring you to the mysterious looking place you'll be staying at for the summer, turns out your stuck with a pair of redheaded twins, and a doxy makes a surprise visit for you.

Pairing - George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Category - friends to lovers, fluff

Content Warnings - reader gets chased around by a doxy? poorly proofread tbh

WC - 2.5k

A/N: shitty summary but im way too tired to try and come up with something better. anyways based off this request <3

Series Masterlist | G.W Masterlist | Next | Navigation |

Since the incident with the Triwizard Tournament, the Order of the Phoenix had been revived. Which meant your mum and dad had been going out on missions and meetings, doing whatever was needed, whatever they were told to do.

They had explained to you the other week that they’d be gone most of the summer due to some mandatory work they had to do. You weren’t surprised or shocked, this had become common now that your parents worked in the Order.

They also didn’t like nor did they trust you being home alone all by yourself for an entire summer.

So, now you stood in front of 12 Grimmauld Place. Except, there was no number 12 on any of the doors. The numbers on the doors went from 11 to 13. You’d never heard of it before anyways, but your parents said you’d be safe and well taken care of there.

“Here we are!” Your mother smiled at you, while you yawned, standing in front of the rows of townhouses.

“Mum, why’d we have to come this late? It’s nearly midnight.” You complained as you put your rucksack and suitcase down.

Your mother only shushed you in response, pulling her wand out and with a flick of her wrist.

Before you could question her about the numbers being wonky, a rumbling began under your feet. You stumbled a tiny bit, holding onto your suitcase for balance.

The building began to pull apart, however one townhouse appeared in the middle of the split. You grimaced at the sight of it.

Different was the least you could say about it. It was definitely different compared to the others.

The building's bricks were much darker than the others beside it, nearly black. You could see the dirty glass windows, the paint peeling off the door, the water stains on the wooden panels, and the flickering front porch light.

It looked like it had been untouched, collecting dust for a long time now.

“This is it?” You muttered to yourself, unfortunately your mum heard you.

“Oh be nice, Y/N. They spent the last few days cleaning it up for you kids.”

Those last two words echoed in your mind. You were never told there would be other kids staying with you.

Hopefully the Weasleys, they were the only other ones who had living families in the Order. You decided to ask anyway.

“Mum, you never told me who would be-“ The door flung open and a short, orange haired lady stood in front of the three of you.

“Molly!” Your mum happily shouted. Mrs. Weasley grinned as she said your mum's name in response, stretching her arms out and pulling her into a tight hug.

“Oh, it’s great to see you again! Come in, it’s much nicer on the inside!” Mrs. Weasley stood to the side of the doorway, making room for your parents and you to walk in.

Mr. Weasley and your dad were shaking hands and already making jokes, your Mum and Mrs. Weasley were busy complimenting each other on various things as you entered the ground floor.

You could only stand quietly and awkwardly to the side. Hoping that the greetings would be over soon so you could finally put your hefty bag and suitcase away. You were tired and hungry and your hands hurt and-

A strange noise came from behind you, almost like a quick pop, maybe even a crack.

“That looks heavy. What’re you hiding in there?” You felt your bag being taken off your shoulder, you whipped around to see a tall redheaded boy standing there.

George Weasley. A gigantic grin cracked onto his face, he nearly knocked you over when he pulled you into a hug.

"Glad to see that you decided to show up." You chuckled as you wrapped his arms around his tall frame nervously, not expecting him to be so welcoming.

You weren’t that close with George. You didn’t know him very well, you only knew him originally because your parents were friends and worked together. You also had the same charms class with him and Fred last year.

"Oh please, I knew you'd be bored without me here." He teased, looking down at you and smirking.

You’d been hugging long enough for your liking, you unwrapped your arms from him and he got the hint, letting go of you too.

“So, where’s Fred? I rarely ever see you guys separated.” You looked around the hallway, searching for the other twin.

“Stealing food from the table.” He nodded in the direction of the kitchen, and he was correct. Your eyes stopped to see Fred there, attempting to sneak a bread roll from off the long wooden table, his hand was smacked away by Ginny standing across from him.

You had no idea that you’d be staying here with the Weasleys for the summer. However, George did, and he was ecstatic about it.

“I can show you to your room! If you'd want me to!” He quipped, taking your suitcase out of your grasp.

You didn’t get to answer, George was already moving past the chatting adults and down the entrance hall, you followed.

The inside of this place wasn’t as bad as the outside. Old looking gas lamps were lined up along the hallway walls, casting light over the peeling wallpaper, aged paintings, and threadbare carpet. A grand staircase leading to the upper floors sat at the end.

You cringed as the wooden stairs creaked with each step you took, the walls were decorated with the occasional row of shrunken heads of past house elves, they sat on plaques mounted to the wall. This caused you to grimace and look straight ahead for the rest of the time on the stairs.

Sure, the inside of the house had the same amount of gloominess as the outside, but George's presence here added light to it.

“You wouldn’t believe the amount of doxies we had to get rid of.” George said as you reached the first floor. He stopped in front of a dark wooden dresser, sliding open a drawer and rummaging around for something.

“Here, keep this in your room.” He pulled out and handed you a spray bottle, the word Doxycide written across it. “The smell of that is absolutely rancid. I’d say only use it if it’s urgent, since you can stop doxies with a freezing charm.” He continued to move, stopping once he reached the first bedroom.

“And here’s where you’ll be staying, you’re sharing a room with Ginny and Hermione.” He said while he opened the door and stood beside, jokingly bowing to you and gesturing to the inside of the room.

You entered, strolling over to the bed that hadn’t obviously been slept in yet. George followed behind and dropped your things down on the mattress.

“You can unpack after dinner.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to take steps back towards the door. “We’re just waiting on Harry and the rest to get here, they should be any minute now.”

You left the room and went with George downstairs. As George and you walked down the stairs, Harry and other adults, who were most likely working for the Order as well, walked in.

Mrs. Weasley was already greeting them happily, keeping her voice at a hushed tone.

A purple haired woman accidentally tripped over the troll leg umbrella stand that sat right next to the entrance. She looked around at everyone as fear entered her eyes.

“Tonks!” Mrs. Weasley cried out, exhaustion and annoyance in her voice. Tonks began to apologize.

You heard that pop sound coming from the side of you, it was the same sound you heard when George appeared next to you. Except this time it was Fred. Now you had a twin by each side of you.

“You should probably cover your ears.” Fred said amusedly.

Before you could question him, a loud screech boomed through the house as curtains flew open from an old painting on the wall. It was of an elderly woman, wearing a black cap. She looked absolutely enraged.

“Filth! Scum! By-products of dirt and vileness! Half-breeds, mutants, freaks, begone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers!” She screamed, waking up all the other portraits in the house and causing them to yell too. That's when you covered your ears.

Mrs. Weasley attempted to close the curtains on the painting, Fred and George took you into the kitchen, hoping to get away from all the noise.

“Oh my God, who is that?” You scowled, removing your hands from your ears. The twins leaned against one of the wooden counters.

“Sirius’s mum. Lovely woman, isn’t she?” George gave a tight lipped smile, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“She’s got quite a way with words.” You joked, earning a laugh from the both of them.

The beginning of dinner was simple, but chatty.

Harry caught up with Sirius. Hermione and Ron talked to each other. Ginny and Tonks gossiped. The rest of the adults conversated about the Order and what to do. The twins bragged to you about all of their new inventions.

“We’ve been working on all new products for our Skiving Snackboxes during the past few months.” George boasted to you.

“Fainting Fancies-“

“Puking pastilles-“

“Ton-Tongue Toffees-”

“Nosebleed nougats.”

“Nosebleed nougats?” You repeated, sitting up from your bored posture.

“The name pretty much explains it.” Fred looked at George, then back to you.

“You eat it, you get a wicked nosebleed.”

“Me and him both tried it, tested it out.”

“Mum thought we had been dueling!” George said before the both of them began to snicker at the memory of it. You let out a small laugh with them.

The boys both noticed the obvious exhaustion weighing you down, Fred looked at George, who was looking at you.

“Why don’t we show her our little harmless prank we keep spooking mum with?” Fred suggested, nudging George who was (still) busy staring at you.

“Oh, right! Watch this.” George smiled and nodded his head in the direction of his mum, who was happily chatting with Lupin.

In the blink of an eye, Fred and George suddenly disappeared from their chairs and appeared right behind their unsuspecting mother. She shrieked in terror at the surprise, slamming down the silverware that was in her hands.

“Just because you’re allowed to use magic now does not mean you have to whip your wands out for every tiny little thing!” Mrs. Weasley shouted, emphasizing each word with a smack at the boys.

They giggled like schoolgirls and ran out of the kitchen, then apparating back into their seats.

“We’re just trying to save a bit of time!” Fred and George proudly said together.

It didn’t take long for you to unpack. There really wasn’t much that you had to take out of your suitcase, just a few books you planned on reading during this summer.

You sighed while pulling out a few books from your bag. It hasn't been a full two weeks since you left school for break and you’re already stuck somewhere else.

You stacked the books together, placing them neatly on the dresser that stood between you and Ginny's bed, and in front of a large window.

The window was covered with dusty velvet curtains, you pushed away the drapes, hoping to get a look outside, instead you were met with a small squealing noise. A full grown but still small doxy came flying towards you with its beetle like wings.

Grabbing a book from the stack, you began to shriek and swat at it with the book.

It became a game of cat and mouse. You were the mouse, literally being chased by a doxy, which was the cat.

For most likely a minute, you continuously shrieked in horror while running around in the room, holding the book in one hand, using it to swat at the creature while your other hand was feeling around your clothes, searching for your wand. You felt nothing.

It was still in your bag, sitting on your bed. You absolutely did not have the time to search for it.

The next best thing you had was Doxycide, but you accidentally knocked it over when you attempted to grab it while running past. The bottle rolled underneath Ginny’s bed.

You ended up causing yourself to be cornered. You only had a few inches of space between you and the wall.

The doxy squinted its eyes, letting out a small growl while it floated back, getting ready to pounce. You really had no way to escape without getting bit, if you were to run past it now, it’d probably bite you somewhere on the face, and you had no idea if there was any antidote for doxy bites hiding in the cabinets here.

You held up the book in front of your face, preparing to have your arms torn up.

“Immobulus!” George's voice shouted.

A dash of blue light struck the small creature, just as it opened its mouth to bite, its movements slowed then fully came to a stop, leaving it frozen in midair.

You let out a heavy breath of relief, closing your eyes as you leaned against the wall and dropped down your hand, letting the book fall out of your grasp as well.

George ran to you, completely ignoring the paralyzed pest in the air.

“Are you alright? You’re not bit are you? Did you get bit?” He questioned as he grabbed your hand, frantically inspecting your entire arm for any bites or scratches.

“I didn’t, I’m okay.” You assured him, trying to catch your breath. Georges sped up, he had the same amount of fear you did while being chased, only his was caused by the thought of you being hurt.

“Okay, okay, lovely.” He was still holding your shaky hand, your arm.

“You can let go now, you know.” You let out an awkward laugh, he really didn’t want to. Your skin felt so soft against his calluses and rough hands. Even though his hands were rough, they moved smoothly against your arm with how gentle he was.

George cleared his throat, turning his attention to the still doxy in the air, he grabbed it carefully and pocketed it.

“What are you going to do with that?” You said concerned and confusedly.

“Fred and I have been wanting to experiment with doxy venom for our snackboxes. We’ve got a spiffing amount of ideas for what we could make using it. Our biggest one-” The sound of multiple footsteps interrupted Georges rambling.

“What in the bloody hell happened? It sounded like you were getting murdered!” Ron's voice came from the doorway, where he stood with Harry, Hermione, Ginny, and Fred, all with looks of worry on their faces.

“There was a doxy.” You stated, embarrassingly. “Erm, George caught it though.”

“You got rid of it? Right?” Hermione asked, her stern tone coming out strong.

“Of course I did!” George shrugged, not a single drop of untruthfulness nor worry in his tone.

“Any of you want to eavesdrop on the adults?” He changed the subject, pulling a pair of Extendable Ears out of his pocket that didn’t have the doxy hidden in it. Fred and George gave each other mischievous looks while the group excitedly filed into the hallway one by one.

George took a quick look back at you, shooting you a wink, you gave him an amused smile in return.

Maybe being stuck here this summer won't be too bad.

tell me what you thought or ask to be added to my taglist! <3

[gabessquishytum]

When Dream returned from a long time abroad with a new husband, who no one knew, and who seemed to have no job (the term gold digger was whispered loudly behind hands), it was an instant scandal.

This Hob was beautiful in a rough sort of way - muscled body, long hair that he puts up in ponytails and buns, a fantastic ass (even the naysayers acknowledge that), and he seemed to dote on Dream, but he was a nobody. He certainly wasn't someone that the Endless patriarch or the rest of the family would approve of. But surprisingly, Dream didn't seem to care.

Then someone tried to kidnap Dream right out in the open, and if you asked anyone who was present it was over so quickly with all the kidnappers incapacitated on the ground and himbo husband Hob holding Dream. Recollections again are fuzzy, but most agree that Hob put down all the kidnappers with his bare hands.

Hob is not a nice man, and he's certainly not one who takes vacations, but he kept running into this gorgeous goth man (wearing all black, sheer fabrics, but still all black) at the beach. He was beautiful and snarky and didn’t let Hob get away with anything. Hob was enthralled.

It was a whirlwind courtship, and Hob gave up some of his more stabby work - luckily Hob works for himself so he can choose the work he takes - and he puts a ring on it. Hob is more than happy follow Dream home and laugh at all the society types call him a himbo.

Then someone tried to take Hob's lovely ---- he's going to salt the earth with the lot of them! After Hob makes sure Dream is okay.

AKAJSDHHA gold digger husband Hob who is actually an experienced assassin and major criminal mastermind - incredible. I love it so much.

Hob hasn't killed anyone in a while, and Dream has kind of been spoiling him since they got married. So his skills are a little rusty. He's quite frustrated with himself actually, because it takes him a little over a minute to get all the kidnappers laid out on the floor. That's far too long. Far too long before he can take Dream into his arms and check his whole body for injuries. Then someone calls the cops, and Hob is trying to play down what he just did - it was just good luck, he totally isn't a professional hit man wanted on three continents. He's just Dream’s unemployed himbo husband!

Dream smoothes over the whole incident and practically orders Hob to take him home. Not because he's hurt or mad or anything. In fact he's just egregiously horny for his husband and wants to be ravished as soon as possible. He knows as much as he needs to about Hob’s dark past; it doesn't bother him in the slightest. He's just super grateful that he gets to have a super assassin as his trophy husband.

Especially when Hob presses him up against the front door of their beautiful townhouse and kisses all of the breath out of his lungs. He scoops his hands up under Dream’s thighs and holds him against the door like it's absolutely nothing. In fact he holds Dream there with one hand and uses the other to push up his shirt and pinch his nipples. Dream has NEVER been loved like this before. Hob pushes all of his harsh physical instincts into loving Dream fiercely, deeply, and as he deserves.

Hob rather likes being a happy little himbo husband. As long as he's allowed to throw Dream around a little bit. And it's always worth being on Dream’s arm at society events, because they're always allowed to sneak off and fuck in the cloakrooms. He certainly didn't get that when he was a hit man!

[big-cheesy-productions]

SXSG - RADICAL HIGHWAY Analysis

Okay, I absolutely love all of the "Black Doom just really likes Radical Highway" jokes, because same, bud.

But, like, I'm actually obsessed with the symbolism of it and its inclusion.

It makes sense for the game to keep coming back to this level for a number of reasons. It was Shadow the Hedgehog's first level in his first game. Of course it would be a central callback in the game, just like Green Hill Zone appears again and again for Sonic, and a celebration of his first appearance. This is the nostalgia and callback game after all (and it does it so well). But the way Radical Highway is included and used in SXSG is actually so brilliant.

Okay, bear with me while I talk about Radical Highway as a level and its symbolism originally in Sonic Adventure 2 (My favorite game ever of all time) to set the scene.

Radical Highway is the second Dark level in the game, and the first Shadow level, and the way this level perfectly sets up Shadow as a character and how he compares to Sonic is *chef's kiss*.

Sonic's first level is the famous City Escape. City Escape takes place on the San Francisco-inspired streets of Central City. Sonic is on the streets, running past houses and cars, through parks and neighborhoods. It feels grounded (literally and figuratively). Sonic is among the people. There's a small G.U.N. presence, as they are trying to capture Sonic, but it's a pretty peaceful, sunny day otherwise. Perfect introduction for our boy, Sonic.

In stark contrast, Radical Highway is the complete opposite of City Escape in every way. While City Escape was on the streets of Central City, Radical Highway is above it. There's no cute townhouses, no cars going about their day. It's on high, Golden Gate Bridge-inspired streets, in the dead of night. While City Escape had a small G.U.N. presence, Radical Highway has fighter jets dropping bombs on you as you sprint through the streets and there are G.U.N. robots EVERYWHERE. Even the music is the opposite of City Escape, which is upbeat and campy, with famous lyrics we all know and love. Radical Highway’s music is purely instrumental and has a darker tone, and a more serious hint of urgency (while still being a banger of course). 

While City Escape serves to set up our beloved blue leading man as the carefree speedster who goes where the impulse takes him, Radical Highway sets up everything for Shadow. Assuming you play the Hero Story first, you really don’t know much about Shadow, other than he serves as a rival for Sonic. He only has a few scenes where he crosses paths with Sonic, and in all put the last one, he is always positioned above Sonic, until their final confrontation where they are on even ground, literally and figuratively, because Shadow sees Sonic as an equal in the end, whereas before, he saw Sonic, and everyone else in the world, as beneath him. Hence, the brilliant symbolism of Radical Highway being above everything. He literally starts the level at the highest point on the bridge while looking down at the G.U.N. forces and calls them “pathetic.” (This is where that all began.)

He’s above it all, he’s disconnected, he believes himself superior, and in the cutscene before this level we learn about Maria, and her death, for the first time. We see a flashback to that canon event and when we come back to the present, Shadow promises her revenge, and we learn Shadow’s goals aren’t what they initially seemed when Eggman released him.

It is not until the Final Story that we learn what is going on: Shadow was not originally made as a weapon, but Professor Gerald modified him after the ARK incident and Maria’s death, including modifying his memories. The Shadow we see in Radical Highway is not really Shadow. It’s Gerald, in his insanity and grief, in his righteousness and fury. The promise for revenge is Gerald’s, not Shadow’s.

Later games have Shadow rebuild his memories and sense of self in the wake of all of the meddling from certain Robotniks. Shadow the Hedgehog ‘05 and Sonic ‘06 leave us with a Shadow who is still devastated by his losses, but his mind and convictions are his own, and a Shadow who remembers Maria’s true, unadulterated wish (2010s Sonic games go on to forget all of this, but we’re not talking about that right now). He might not know exactly where his place in the world is, but he knows who he is and what he fights for.

Okay, now where am I going with all of this with SXSG? Why does Black Doom keep bringing Shadow back to Radical Highway, from a storytelling perspective?

Black Doom is manipulative. It’s his whole schtick. Shadow ‘05 constantly has Black Doom trying to use the ARK incident to bring Shadow over to his side and serve him. He is trying to use Shadow’s traumatic memories to get Shadow to remember his hatred for humanity, but good/True Story playthrough Shadow recovers his true memories and remains true to his convictions (God, that game would be so good if it was good). Black Doom’s manipulation doesn’t work and Shadow defeats him. 

Now, in SXSG, Black Doom is back. He knows he can’t use the same tactics as last time. Shadow has his memories. There is nothing that could convince Shadow to willingly join Black Doom. Shadow never flinched when Mephiles was trying to manipulate him in Sonic ‘06. So what does Black Doom do? Memory manipulation is still his thing, so he decides to drag Shadow to Radical Highway, to this moment in time instead, because this moment represents everything that went wrong.

In this moment in time, Maria is dead, Gerald is dead, Shadow’s mind is not his own, he has initiated Gerald’s plan to destroy the world, and the promise he made to Maria is corrupted. And now Black Doom is here too, further warping this memory.

Black Doom is trying to psych Shadow out, because he knows he can’t claim him through pure force. There’s definitely a theme of autonomy in many of Shadow’s stories: He was made as a cure for Maria, Gerald modified his mind, Eggman did too, and Black Doom tries to enforce a claim on him. And he’s using this memory of Radical Highway to push this, to drag him back to his past he’s trying to move on from, to say “you are just a weapon. You are just a tool, to be used and modified. You were never anything more.”

But then, Maria and Gerald are there, saying “you are so much more.” Gerald is there calling him “son,” saying he’s proud of him, and asking him to live for himself. Maria is there saying “you are more than your anger, more than your past, more than what you’re made of.”

And all of this is represented by Radical Highway.

I fucking love Radical Highway.

[dee-writes-angst]

PREVERNAL (Extra)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY it's been two years, you want sex with your mate, but it seems Azriel is hesitant. Good thing bestie LuLu is here to help ;)

CONTENT WARNINGS sex! (there will be a note before if you wish to skip), MINORS, DO NOT INTERACT, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap, y'all), Lucien being a nosy horndog (?)

AUTHORS NOTE c'mon, you didn't think I was just going to leave you without a smut scene! What do you make me for, a monster?!

As the world awakens from its winter slumber, a symphony of sensations fills the prevernal air, weaving a tapestry of seduction that tantalizes the senses and stirs the soul. The earth, still moist from the thawing frost, exhales a heady fragrance of rebirth, a delicate mingling of damp soil and budding life that beckons with whispered promises of renewal. Each step upon the awakening land is a dance with temptation, as the soft, yielding earth caresses the feet with a sensuous touch that ignites a primal longing deep within.

Above, the sun emerges from its hibernation, casting its golden rays upon the landscape like a lover's embrace. Its warmth, once forgotten, now envelopes the skin in a tender caress, coaxing the slumbering earth to awaken from its wintry dreams. And awaken it does, with a flourish of color and life that ignites the senses with an intoxicating fervor. Delicate blossoms unfurl their petals in a symphony of hues, their fragrant perfumes mingling with the crispness of the air in a sensual ballet of scent.

Everywhere, the world pulses with the rhythm of desire, from the gentle rustle of awakening leaves to the melodious trill of amorous birdsong. Each breeze carries with it a whisper of passion, stirring dormant desires and kindling flames of longing that smolder just beneath the surface. In the prelude to spring, every sensation is heightened, every moment pregnant with possibility, as the allure of new beginnings hangs heavy in the air like a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

In this season of rebirth, nature herself becomes the ultimate seductress, her beauty a bewitching spell that enraptures all who dare to surrender to her charms. And so, beneath the canopy of prevernal skies, amidst the vibrant tapestry of blossoms and verdant greenery, the world becomes a playground of desire, where every touch, every scent, every sight ignites the flames of passion and invites the soul to embrace the sensual delights of the season.

It had been a little over two years since I lost my wings to Lyris, since I found out Azriel is my mate, and the last two years have been good. Sure, there have been moments where I fell back into that dark space, but Azriel was always there, ready to pull me back into the light when I was done reflecting.

During that time, our lives have undergone significant changes. Azriel and I were gifted a townhouse by Feyre and Rhys, providing us with our own space to build a life together. Additionally, my friendship with Lucien had deepened. Though we had only met briefly before the incident with my wings, our connection had grown, and now he joined me every weekend for a night out in the Night Court.

Despite the progress in our lives, there remained an unspoken tension between Azriel and me. While he was attentive and affectionate, there was a notable absence of intimacy. Though he'd shower with me, share kisses, and embrace me, our relationship had not progressed beyond that point. I'd attempted to initiate intimacy, but each time Azriel seemed to retreat, offering excuses that left me feeling frustrated and unfulfilled.

As Lucien and I entered the bustling tavern, the familiar sights and sounds of Velaris washed over me, momentarily distracting me from my tangled thoughts. The scent of ale and roasted meat filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter that filled every corner of the room.

I glanced around, searching for a quiet corner where we could sit and talk. The tavern was packed with patrons, each one lost in their own conversations and revelries.

Lucien followed my lead, his eyes scanning the room as he sought out the perfect spot. "How about over there?" he suggested, nodding towards a cozy corner booth bathed in soft candlelight.

I nodded in agreement, grateful for his intuition. Together, we made our way over to the booth and settled in, the comfortable silence between us speaking volumes.

"So," Lucien began, breaking the silence with a curious glint in his eye, "what's been on your mind lately, songbird?"

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to broach the subject. But then, with a deep breath, I decided to lay it all out on the table. "Azriel," I confessed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien's eyebrows shot up in surprise, his gaze locking with mine in a silent exchange of understanding. He knew exactly what I was talking about, without me having to say another word.

"He's been… distant," I continued, my voice tinged with frustration. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong, Lucien. I've tried everything I can think of, but he always pulls away."

Lucien's expression softened, his hand reaching out to cover mine in a comforting gesture. "I'm sure it's not you," he reassured me, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Azriel's been through a lot, as have you. Maybe he just needs some more time."

I nodded, taking solace in his words. "I hope you're right," I replied, trying to keep the doubt from creeping into my voice. But deep down, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, that there was a distance between Azriel and me that I couldn't bridge no matter how hard I tried. Then, an idea sparked in my mind, and I leaned in closer, my voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "What if I tried… something different?" I suggested, a mischievous glint in my eye.

He raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Different how?" he asked, leaning in even closer to hear my suggestion. "Songbird, are you suggesting I help you to seduce your mate?” Lucien chuckled, a mischievous glint in his eye to match the slight blush across his cheeks.

“That’s exactly what I’m asking for my wonderful Lord of Foxes” I smirked, listening to his joyous laugh dancing through the tavern like silk in the wind. It made me smile, to hear him distracted from his own mate related sorrows.

“Trying to butter me up, are we?” He grinned, shaking his head at my answering snicker. “What if you were to seduce him?" Lucien suggested, his tone playful yet suggestive. "Show him just how much you desire him, and maybe he won't be able to resist."

I considered the suggestion, a thrill of excitement coursing through me at the thought of finally crossing that line with Azriel. "How would I do that?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Lucien grinned, clearly enjoying our clandestine conversation. "You could start by wearing something… provocative," he suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Show him what he's been missing out on."

I blushed at the suggestion, the idea of dressing up to seduce Azriel both thrilling and nerve-wracking. "That could work," I admitted, feeling a surge of determination building within me.

Lucien nodded in approval. "And what about… teasing him?" he suggested, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Give him little hints of what's to come, and let his imagination do the rest."

I swallowed hard at the suggestion, the thought of teasing Azriel sending a shiver of anticipation down my spine. "That could definitely get his attention," I agreed, my mind already racing with possibilities, but as we continued to brainstorm, I couldn't shake the feeling of nervous excitement building within me. Maybe this was exactly what Azriel and I needed to finally take that next step, to bridge the gap that had been growing between us.

“But,” Lucien interjected, raising a finger and pointing it at me, “you could also try talking to him.” I raised a brow at this, and he sighed, his shoulders slumping as if a physical reminder of the weight of his sorrows, “I know that it’s not working with Elain, but you an-”

“Luce,” I say softly, interrupting him with a soothing hand on his warm arm, “I would never use that against you, not even in a stupid disagreement, c’mon.” I watch as his cheeks redden, his head falling, long, golden-red hair hiding his expression.

Tonight was going to be a late night.

It had been weeks, and this evening had been meticulously planned, every detail carefully orchestrated in my attempt to seduce Azriel. I had adorned myself in my most alluring attire, a dress that clung to every curve, and had spent hours perfecting my makeup and hair.

As Azriel stepped through the door of our townhouse, I greeted him with a coy smile, my heart pounding with nervous anticipation. Tonight was the night I would finally make my move, the night I would show him just how much I desired him.

"Hey, Az," I purred, sauntering over to him with what I hoped was a seductive sway in my hips. "Did you have a good day?"

He nodded, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips as he took in my appearance. "It was fine," he replied, his voice low and husky. "What about you?"

I smiled, feeling a surge of confidence at his response. "Oh, you know," I said, my voice laced with playful flirtation. "Just counting down the minutes until you got home."

But as I began to put my plan into action, things quickly took an unexpected turn. My attempts at seduction came off as clumsy and awkward, each gesture more embarrassing than the last.

I tried to flirt, to tease him with suggestive remarks, but my words came out jumbled and incoherent. "You must be tired," I blurted out, cringing at my own lack of finesse. "Maybe I could help you relax?"

Azriel watched me with a bemused expression, clearly unsure of how to respond to my awkward advances. "Um, sure," he said, his tone cautious as he took a step back, clearly sensing my nervous energy.

I attempted to initiate physical contact, to seduce him with a touch, but my hands fumbled clumsily and fell short of their mark. I reached out to brush a lock of hair from his face, but ended up poking him in the eye instead.

"Ow!" Azriel exclaimed, blinking rapidly as he recoiled from my touch. "Are you okay?"

I winced, mortified by my own clumsiness. "I'm so sorry," I stammered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to…"

But it wasn't until I saw the disappointment in Azriel's eyes that the full weight of my humiliation hit me. I had wanted so desperately to seduce him, to show him just how much he meant to me, but instead, I had only succeeded in making a fool of myself.

Tears welled up in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I turned away from him, unable to bear the thought of him seeing me in such a vulnerable state. I had wanted tonight to be perfect, but instead, it had been a disaster of epic proportions.

"Hey," Azriel's voice was gentle, his hand reaching out to touch my shoulder in a gesture of comfort. "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, unable to speak past the lump forming in my throat. How could I explain to him the depths of my humiliation, the sheer magnitude of my disappointment? Azriel wasn't one to give up easily. With infinite patience, he wrapped me in his arms, holding me close as I sobbed against his chest.

After I took a few moments to collect myself while Azriel held me close, his warmth enveloping me, I was able to take a deep breath and steady my emotions before speaking up. "I'm sorry," I whispered, my voice barely audible against the fabric of his shirt. "I just wanted tonight to be special."

Azriel's arms tightened around me, his touch a comforting anchor amidst the storm of my emotions. "It's okay," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. "We can try again another time."

I sniffled, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over me at his understanding. "But why?" I blurted out, the question tumbling from my lips before I could stop it. "Why won't you… why won't you make love to me?"

Azriel pulled back slightly, his expression unreadable as he looked down at me. "It's not that I don't want to," he spluttered, “believe me, honey, I’ve wanted nothing more these last couple years,” he encouraged with a low growl, his eyes darkening for a moment. “But,” Azriel continued, his voice tinged with sadness. "It's just… complicated."

My heart sank at his words, a knot of worry forming in the pit of my stomach. "Complicated how?" I pressed, my voice trembling with uncertainty.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched for the right words. "I don't want you to feel… obligated," he admitted, his gaze filled with concern. "After everything you've been through, I don't want you to feel like you have to… do this with me."

I blinked in surprise at his confession, the weight of his words sinking in. "But I want to," I insisted, my voice firm with determination. "I want to be with you, Az. I want this."

Azriel's expression softened at my words, his eyes meeting mine in a silent exchange of understanding. "I know," he said, his voice gentle and reassuring. "But I don't want you to rush into anything because you feel like you have to."

Tears welled up in my eyes at his concern, the depth of his love washing over me like a wave. "I'm not rushing," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "I'm ready."

Azriel's gaze softened at my words, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Okay," he said, his voice filled with quiet resolve. "Okay."

The weight of Azriel's concern lingered in the air between us, casting a shadow over our tender moment. I bit my lip, gathering my courage before speaking again. "Az," I began, my voice barely above a whisper, "can we try tonight?"

His brows furrowed in concern, his gaze searching mine as if trying to gauge my sincerity. "Are you sure?" he asked, his tone gentle yet cautious.

I nodded, a determined glint in my eyes. "Yes," I replied, my voice stronger this time. "I want this, Az. I want to be with you."

Azriel studied me for a long moment, his expression unreadable as he weighed my words. Finally, he let out a soft sigh, his shoulders relaxing as if he had come to a decision. "Okay," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of uncertainty and resolve. "But only if you're absolutely sure."

I nodded, a sense of gratitude swelling within me at his understanding. "I am," I assured him, my voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in my stomach. "I trust you, Az. I always have."

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips, his eyes softening with warmth and affection. "I love you," he said, his voice a gentle caress that soothed the ache in my heart.

"I love you too," I whispered, feeling a sense of peace settle over me as I nestled into his embrace.

The air between us crackled with tension as we made our way to our bedroom, our footsteps echoing in the quiet of the townhouse. Despite our earlier conversation, a nervous energy hung heavy in the air, making each moment feel strained and uncertain.

I stole a glance at Azriel out of the corner of my eye, finding him watching me with a mixture of apprehension and longing. My heart skipped a beat at the sight, the weight of his gaze sending a shiver down my spine.

As we reached the door to our bedroom, I paused, my hand hovering uncertainly over the handle. "Are you sure about this?" I asked, my voice barely more than a whisper.

Azriel nodded, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability. "Yes," he replied, his voice steady despite the nerves that flickered in his eyes. "I want to be with you, more than anything, as long as you're ready."

I swallowed hard, feeling a surge of emotion welling up inside me, not immune to the irony of the question. With a shaky breath, I pushed open the door, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows across the room. We stood there for a moment, neither of us moving, as if unsure of what to do next. But then, with a shared glance, we moved as one, closing the distance between us with hesitant steps.

I reached out to touch him, my fingers trembling as they brushed against his cheek. "I love you," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the pounding of my heart.

Azriel's eyes softened at my words, his hand coming up to cradle my face in a gentle caress. "I love you too," he murmured, his voice a soft whisper that sent a shiver down my spine.

And then, with a shared smile, we began to undress, each movement slow and deliberate as we shed the layers that separated us. It was awkward at first, our hands fumbling and uncertain as we navigated the unfamiliar terrain of each other's bodies.

But as we moved together, our laughter mingling with the soft sounds of the night, something shifted between us. The tension that had once hung heavy in the air began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of ease and familiarity that washed over us like a warm embrace.

(MDNI SMUT AFTER THE CUT)

Azriel's touch is a symphony of sensations, each brush of his fingertips sending sparks of desire dancing along my skin. He starts with feather-light caresses, tracing invisible patterns across the curve of my jaw, down the length of my neck, and along the swell of my collarbones. Each touch is a promise of things to come, a tantalizing tease that leaves me yearning for more.

His lips follow the path his fingers have traced, pressing soft, lingering kisses against my skin. He explores every inch of me with a reverence that takes my breath away, his mouth leaving a trail of fire in its wake. I gasp as his lips find the hollow of my throat, his tongue tracing delicate circles against my pulse point.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs against my skin, his voice low and husky with desire. I shiver at his words, a rush of heat pooling between my thighs.

As he continues to explore, his hands roam freely over my body, mapping every curve and contour with a hunger that mirrors my own. He cups the weight of my breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing lightly over my hardened nipples, sending jolts of pleasure shooting through me.

"Azriel," I whisper, my voice trembling with longing as I arch into his touch, a low moan escaping my lips as he takes one swollen nipple into his mouth, sucking and nibbling with a fervor that leaves me dizzy with desire. His other hand travels lower, skimming across the sensitive skin of my abdomen before dipping between my thighs.

I gasp as his fingers find the heat between my legs, teasing me with maddening slowness. He circles my clit with his thumb, applying just enough pressure to make me squirm.

"You drive me wild," he confesses, his breath hot against my skin as he slides a single finger inside me, testing my readiness. I'm already slick with desire, my body eager for more of him. I rock my hips against his hand, wordlessly urging him to continue. With a low growl of approval, Azriel adds a second finger, stretching me in the most exquisite way possible.

I moan his name, my fingers tangling in his dark locks as I pull him closer, desperate for more of his touch. "I want you," I breathe, my voice barely more than a whisper.

“All good things come to those who wait,” he smirks against my breast, his tongue swiping at my hardened nipple.

“Please,” I whine, my hips meeting his gentle thrusts, the soft squelching noises between my thighs steadily growing louder and more frequent. He complies eagerly, increasing the pace and pressure of his ministrations until I'm teetering on the edge of oblivion, every nerve in my body singing with pleasure.

And just when I think I can't take any more, he withdraws his fingers, leaving me gasping and aching for release. With a wicked smile, he leans up to capture my lips in a searing kiss, his tongue tangling with mine in a dance as old as time.

I lose myself in the kiss, the world narrowing down to the feel of his lips against mine, the taste of him on my tongue. We part with fierce huffs of breaths as he reaches down to ready himself, using the slick he collected between my thighs to lather his thick length. I whimper at the sight of it, his long, intimidating length, prettily flushed and already dripping precum.

Azriel shushes me softly as he lines himself up, slowly sliding himself against my clit for a moment before notching at my entrance. With a deep breath, he slowly starts to slide in.

I let out a long gasp, my hands flying to his shoulders as he hovers above me, his face pinched so beautifully in both pleasure and concentration.

“Gods,” he whimpers as his thighs meet mine, my heart flipping at the sound and before soon Azriel and I meld together in a dance of desire, our bodies moving in perfect synchronization. The heat between us ignites, consuming us in a blaze of passion as we lose ourselves in the ecstasy of our union.

Azriel's movements are primal and unrestrained, each thrust driving me closer to the edge of oblivion. I cling to him, my nails digging into his skin as I meet him thrust for thrust, our bodies colliding with a force that borders on violence.

Slick with sweat, our bodies slide against each other, creating a symphony of sounds that fills the room. The scent of our arousal hangs heavy in the air, mingling with the heady aroma of candles burning low.

"You're mine," he growls, his voice a rough whisper against my ear. "Mine to claim."

I moan in response, the sound a guttural cry of need as pleasure courses through my veins. "Yes," I gasp, my voice barely more than a desperate plea.

The intensity of our connection is overwhelming, a tidal wave of desire crashing over us with each passing moment. I lose myself in the sensation, the world narrowing down to the feel of Azriel's skin against mine, the sound of his ragged breaths mingling with my own.

He leans down to capture my lips in a savage kiss, his tongue plundering my mouth with a hunger that borders on feral. I bite back, matching his intensity with a ferocity of my own as we devour each other with a raw, primal need.

Every touch, every kiss, every thrust is a testament to our shared desire, a silent declaration of the love that binds us together. We are lost in each other, consumed by the fire that burns between us, unable to tell where one ends and the other begins.

As the pleasure mounts, I feel myself teetering on the edge of oblivion, my entire being consumed by the overwhelming tide of sensation. Azriel senses my impending release and adjusts his rhythm, driving me over the edge with a final, desperate thrust.

I scream his name as ecstasy washes over me in a blinding burst of light, my body convulsing with pleasure as I tumble into the abyss of sensation. "Azriel!" I cry out, my voice a plea for more as I surrender to the depths of bliss.

He growls in response, panting in my ear, “let me put a baby in you, my mate. Let me-” he lets out a grunt as his movements become more erratic, “let me show the world how good i give it to you, to this pretty little pussy.”

I whimper at the words, my sex addled mind going blank for a moment as he suspends my pleasure, “yes, please, Az, put a baby in me,” I moan loudly, gently scratching the delicate membrane of his right wing.

Azriel lets out a roar of pleasure as he lets himself go, shoving in as far as he can and staying there as he fills me with his warm seed. “I love you,” he pants softly in my ear, his entire body laying sticky and limp on top of mine.

“I love you too,” I breathe, my hands moving to rake through his soft curls.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subside, Azriel turns us to hold me close, his touch gentle yet possessive. There's an unspoken understanding between us, a connection that goes deeper, a thread that sparkles in pure gold with contentment and satisfaction. His arms around me feel like home, like a sanctuary where I can be truly myself.

His whispered words of love and reassurance wash over me like a soothing balm, each syllable a tender caress against my skin. He speaks of our bond, of the love that binds us together, and I listen, my heart swelling with gratitude for the man who has become my everything.

I nestle against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek. It's a comforting rhythm, a reminder that I am safe in his embrace, cocooned in the warmth of our shared intimacy.

"Stay," he murmurs softly, his breath warm against my skin. "I know you have to get cleaned up… but, just a little longer."

I smile, my heart swelling with affection for this man who has become so much more than just a lover. "Of course," I reply, my voice a gentle murmur in the darkness.

Azriel presses a tender kiss to my forehead, his touch a gentle caress along the curve of my spine. With each stroke of his fingers, I feel the tension leaving my body, replaced by a sense of calm and contentment.

We lie together in silence, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking. There's no need for words; our connection speaks volumes in the quiet of the room. I trace lazy patterns on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingertips, a comforting reminder of the love that binds us together.

And as sleep finally claims us both, I drift off with the comforting knowledge that in Azriel's arms, I have found a kind of love that transcends mere physical desire, a love that will sustain us through whatever challenges lie ahead.

[rahleeyah]

Liv's whole pathology on full display in s18e7 where Liv spends the whole episode insisting that being a cop doesn't destroy their lives - all the while thinking about retirement and what that would mean for her - and at the end, after she shoots the man holding a gun on Carisi in the head, spraying blood all over Carisi's face, while a girl cries in the corner, she grins when she tells Carisi that it doesn't make her want to retire, it makes her want to keep going. She almost lost Carisi and she killed a man and she's comfortable and confident and she wants to keep going. People talk so much about Elliot's body count but Liv's killed people, too. More than one or two. And she relishes the work. She killed a guy and thought to herself yeah, I wanna keep doing this. Not bc she's bloodthirsty but bc for her, the job is more fulfilling than anything else she can imagine. And after the recent townhouse incident parallel for Carisi, you gotta wonder if, after everything he's been through and everything he's seen her go through, he's starting to wonder if she's insane

[merylstreepsworld]

Thanksgiving Preparations

Pairing: Miranda Priestly x Fem! Reader

Summary: You are Miranda's wife, and it's your first Thanksgiving as a married couple. As the two of you navigate, the chaos of holiday preparations with Miranda's twin daughters, laughter, love, and playful banter ensue. Showcasing the beauty of unexpected connections and the joy found in the simplest moments.

Word count: 1,496

Authors Note: Turns out... I'm a sucker for holiday romances. I started out writing Christmas oneshots and imagines... but as I went to post one, I quickly realized it's too early for that. So, to fill my nagging itch for posting a holiday story... I decidedly set my mind on writing for Thanksgiving! So enough of my blabbing, I hope you enjoy! Happy reading! ♡

You stand side by side with Miranda Priestly in the spacious kitchen of your shared townhouse, the warm aroma of Thanksgiving filling the air. The gentle hum of laughter echoes as you and Miranda prepare a feast for the special day. Miranda, elegant as always, expertly handles the turkey while you focus on the side dishes.

As the two of you work in tandem, Miranda glances at you with a soft smile. "You know, darling, I never thought I'd find such joy in preparing a meal. Especially with you."

The twins, Caroline and Cassidy, burst into the kitchen, their excitement palpable. "Mom! Mama! Can we help?" they chorus, eyes sparkling.

You look at Miranda, who nods with a bemused smile. "Of course, my darlings. Your mama and I could use some skilled assistants."

The mention of "mama" and "mom" is a sweet reminder of the unique family dynamic you've all created. The girls, and now Miranda, referring to you as "mama," have seamlessly woven you into their lives. It's a title that carries love and acceptance, surpassing any conventional labels.

Caroline, always the more adventurous of the two, eagerly grabs a mixing bowl. "I call dibs on making mashed potatoes!"

Cassidy, with a mischievous twinkle in her eye, reaches for the cranberries. "And I'll handle these. Watch out, world, Cassidy Priestly is a cranberry master!"

You share a knowing look with Miranda, appreciating the liveliness the twins bring to the kitchen. The banter flows seamlessly, filled with laughter and playful teasing. Miranda, usually composed, even allows herself to be the target of a well-placed joke.

"Mom, remember that time you tried to make stuffing and forgot the stuffing part?" Cassidy grins, stirring the cranberries.

Miranda raises an eyebrow, a rare amused expression on her face. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Caroline chimes in, "Oh, come on, Mom. The infamous 'bread casserole' incident? Classic."

You join the teasing, "Well, Miranda, I'm just glad you have me to save you from any future culinary mishaps."

Miranda smirks, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Indeed, I am truly fortunate."

Seeing the twins eager to help, you pause the bustling kitchen activity. "Alright, my little chefs, let's make sure we don't ruin those lovely outfits of yours." With a gentle smile, you reach for two aprons, each adorned with playful patterns.

Caroline and Cassidy giggle as you slip the aprons over their heads. "Now, my culinary wonders, you're officially ready for action."

The girls exchange excited glances, apron strings trailing behind them like little tails. They return to their tasks with renewed enthusiasm, focused on creating their culinary masterpieces.

Turning your attention to Miranda, you approach her with an apron in hand. "Even the queen of fashion needs a touch of practicality in the kitchen," you jest, a playful glint in your eyes.

As you position the apron over Miranda's head, she turns to face you, an eyebrow raised in amusement. Before she can say anything, you lean in, capturing her lips in a soft and tender kiss. The warmth of the moment lingers as you break the kiss, both of you sharing a knowing smile.

Miranda smirks, "I wasn't aware apron application involved such a delightful distraction."

You playfully respond, "Consider it my secret technique. Now, let me just tie this securely." Your hands deftly work to fasten the apron strings, the closeness between you and Miranda adding an extra layer of intimacy to the festive atmosphere.

With the apron securely tied, you give Miranda a gentle pat on the back. "There you go, ready to conquer the culinary world."

Miranda smirks again, a rare twinkle of playfulness in her eyes. "With you by my side, I believe I can handle anything, even in the kitchen."

With the heavenly aroma of the Thanksgiving feast now wafting from the oven, the twins, Caroline and Cassidy, abandon their kitchen duties with a burst of giggles. Aprons discarded on the floor like little breadcrumbs, they scamper off to enjoy their playtime.

Seizing the opportunity for a moment of tranquility, you and Miranda find yourselves alone in the kitchen, still clad in aprons. The air is filled with a quiet anticipation as the oven does its work.

Miranda turns to you, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Alone at last."

You share a knowing glance, and with a gentle touch, Miranda pulls you closer. The warmth of the aprons contrasts with the cool grace of the kitchen surroundings as you share a tender kiss.

As you hold each other, Miranda murmurs, "I am thankful for moments like these, away from the chaos, just you and me."

You reciprocate, "I feel the same, Miranda. Grateful for the life we're building together, especially moments like this."

The quietude of the kitchen allows for whispered confessions, and you take turns expressing your gratitude. Miranda's eyes soften as she admits, "I never thought I'd have a family like this. Your love has brought something extraordinary into my life."

You respond with heartfelt sincerity, "And I'm thankful for the laughter, the warmth, and the love we share. It's more than I could have ever dreamed."

The sound of muffled laughter from the twins playing in the next room adds a joyful background melody to your intimate moment. Miranda's fingers trace circles on the fabric of your apron as she leans in to whisper, "They truly adore you, you know. It's evident in every 'mama' they say."

You smile, the warmth of her words settling in your heart. "And I adore them. I never knew family could feel like this."

Miranda tilts her head, her eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and affection. "Nor did I. You've brought a kind of love into our lives that I didn't think possible."

As the timer on the oven ticks away, the two of you linger in the kitchen, enjoying the rare solitude. The scent of the roasting turkey and the simmering side dishes becomes a backdrop to your whispered conversation.

"I'm thankful for you, Miranda, for the unexpected joy you've given me," you confess, your voice carrying the weight of sincere appreciation.

Miranda's gaze softens, and she responds, "And I, in turn, am thankful for your unwavering support, for the love that has made my world richer than I could have imagined."

The twins' laughter grows louder, a testament to the happiness that fills the home you've created together. Miranda places a gentle kiss on your forehead, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that transcends titles and roles.

As the oven continues to work its magic, you and Miranda stand in the kitchen, wrapped in each other's arms and aprons, grateful for the love that has blended your lives into a beautiful tapestry of shared moments and genuine affection.

As you make a move to join the twins, Miranda surprises you by smoothly backing you against the counter, a playful glint in her eyes. "Leaving so soon?" she quips, her tone filled with mock disappointment.

You chuckle, unable to resist her charm. "Well, someone has to supervise the post-cooking activities. Can't let the kitchen turn into a battlefield."

Miranda smirks, her fingers tracing light patterns on the countertop. "Supervision is overrated, darling. I much prefer a bit of chaos."

You play along, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought you thrived on control. Are you admitting to a love for chaos?"

Her lips curve into a sly smile. "Only when it involves you, my dear."

You laugh, teasingly responding, "Smooth as always, Miranda. I should have known you'd have a plan to keep me right where you want me."

Miranda leans in, her breath warm against your ear. "Oh, you have no idea how much I enjoy having you right where I want you."

The banter between you takes on a loving and playful rhythm, each remark laced with affection. As Miranda continues to playfully corner you against the counter, you can't help but marvel at the unexpected and delightful turns your day has taken.

"So, do you have any more smooth moves up your sleeve, or is this the grand finale?" you quip, your tone filled with a playful challenge.

Miranda smirks, leaning back slightly. "Darling, with you, every moment is a grand finale."

Your laughter fills the kitchen, blending with the sounds of the twins' joyous play in the background. The playful banter between you and Miranda weaves a thread of intimacy that adds a layer of sweetness to the Thanksgiving celebration. As the banter continues, you realize that in this unscripted dance of words and affections, you've found a home within the heart of your uniquely loving family.

As the playful banter subsides, you find comfort in the warmth of each other's presence. The kitchen, once a hub of activity, now holds the quiet promise of shared moments and the enduring bond you've created. Hand in hand, you leave the playful banter behind, ready to join the twins and savor the Thanksgiving feast that awaits.

[simbleleven]

Three of Swords: The Villareals

You guys already know what Teenage!Max looks like, but what about the rest of his siblings? After all, I keep mentioning them; Luna's now taken over as the head of the family, meanwhile Hugo continues to do his own thing. Despite their first introduction, the siblings are much closer now, no thanks to the elusive Villareal Incident of six years ago. They now live in a townhouse in Havisham Street, Windenburg – sure, space-wise a real downgrade from their childhood manor, but these new walls...feel much homelier.

[thedeafprophet]

The Housestaff at the Townhouse Of The Boisterous Author

Some new Fallen London background character designs of mine!

As many who are familiar with basic facts of the victorian era know, a signficiant portion of the population in the 19th century worked in domestic service. Within households servants had their own titles and roles, especially in wealthier families who had great many working within a house -

And, going along with that, many people, even those just lower-middle class, had servants doing the housework, which was an incredibly time consuming task in the victorian era. This was before stainless steal, when basic household items had to be made by hands, with ironing to be done, and so, so much soot around - it was a lot of work.

I'll spare you all a further ramble of all i know about servants in the victorian era - but suffice to say, and as many already know, I have been thinking about giving more detail into those who work within my Fallen London PCs households!

Further detail on these characters under the cut

Viola

Age: Seventeen!

Role: Housemaid

Personality:

Anxious and shy, but very sweet and well meaning, poor Viola is not exactly the best at her job.She's extremely determined to figure it out, even if she has a habit of dropping things! Just give her the chance!

Previous Employment:

Viola previously, but briefly, worked at The Palace. Her elder sister who had worked their much longer had recently developed an illness, and the role had to be filled.

Things did not go well for Viola.

An inccident one day while Mst. Awnings was at the Palace led to a sort of confrontation, which ended in them offering her a job at their own home in the end instead.

Mary-Anne

Age: My, don't you know its terribly rude to inquire about a woman's age?

Role: Housekeeper

Personality:

It is Mary-Anne's job to run the house, and she is going to do it properly. Even if everything seems so set against her doing so....

Mary-Anne oversees all of the other staff at the house, and does not let them forget it. She is caring, but strict, and has certain expectations on the way things are meant to be done. She will never stand by and let things just happen - no matter who the one is comitting the offence.

Previous Employment:

Mary-Anne has been working for service for many, many years. It was her job on the surface, though her role and age was very different back then, and it is her role now. She had been the head of the staff at a large residence in London for many years now.

However after witnessing certan records and an incident by the former homeowner, Mary-Anne had refused to stay silent - which kept her morals clear, but left her without a job and without a recommendation.

She initially worked for Mst. Awnings alone, minimal job oppurtunities presented to her, and while she certainly complains about the... less typical attitudes of this household, she is not inclined to leave.

Edith

Age: Forty something or other. What's it to ya?

Role: Cook

Personality:

Edith has been round the block, and has been in and out of many kitchens in her life time. Her experience in resturants has built her, and though there's been a few flames here or there, she's not much inclined for worries.

Edith is rather gruff and improper, and isn't inclined to follow so called social norms. She'll do her job how she wants, and smokes wherever she damn well pleases. Ain't like she's hurting anyone, anyways.

You aint gonna find someone else who can work as well as she can.

Previous Employment:

Edith had been working at a particular resturant near Spite for a couple years now, and hadnt been much planning to move. However, during the GCO, Edith got caught among the chaos, and ended up sustaining a significant leg injury.

Her previous employer was not inclined to provide supports such as sitting in a busy kitchen job, and Edith found herself looking elsewhere. Which is how she found herself working in a house kitchen rather then a resturant one - with certainly an interesting state of requests.

[internetminestrone]

The 27th

A/N - I used to write all the time but I never posted. Now I also never write lol. So this is a cute snapshot piece to encourage me to do more of both.

Here’s to the great tumblr writers for the inspiration to imagine and share a “Henry” of my very own. @ellethespaceunicorn @littlefreya @sillyrabbit81 @shellyshellshell @peyton-warren and so many more. If you’re a Henry girlie like me or just a fun-fanfic girlie (also like me), read, comment on, and reblog everything they’ve got :)

Summary - You [Rose] have had a day and he [Henry] is there.

Word Count - 1550ish

Warnings - Fluff. Workaholic-ing.

“Oh for heaven’s sake”. As if the day couldn’t get any better, the second you stepped out of your car - a car which you had spent the last hour inside thanks to stand-still traffic - the sky opened up, and released the nasty kind of rain that only happened during a summer storm.

Conveniently - in your hurry to escape the office, you had forgotten your umbrella, and of course, the parking space right in front of your townhouse had been taken, so you had to park six houses down. Fantastic.

Clutching your bag close to your body with one hand, and the other shielding your eyes from the rain, you made a mad dash towards your front door. It was lucky, really, that you made it there, and up the steps without incident. But, standing there realizing you’d left your keys in your car was the last straw.

You began to laugh. Mouth open wide, eyes shut tight, laughing harder than you had in a long time. Because, really, who the hell cares and also - you’ve had a hell of a day. Nobody could see you, standing out here looking utterly maniacal. It had been a day that’s for sure, and now, this was as low as you could get.

“Rose, honey?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of the door opening, and there, his large frame, cloaked by the light of your living room, was your boyfriend, looking positively bewildered at the scene - as he should be, you did look unhinged at best - but also …

“Henry?” Your brow furrowed, “What are you doing here?” 

“What am I doing here?” he cocked an eyebrow at you and his hazel eyes flashed wide. “Hon, I got here at six.”

Six? Got here at six, why on earth would he have - oh. Shoot. Shoot. “It’s the 27th?!” Your face tightened and you brought your palm to your forehead as the realization struck you like a load of bricks to the face.

“I know, I know. I texted you around lunch to remind you.” He said his shoulders lifted lightly into a casual shrug. He must’ve been reading, he still had his glasses on. Here he had been, reading and waiting up for you. How horrible!

“My phone died after my 10am meeting, and my charger decided today was the day to crap out on me.” You said, with enthusiastic gestures of your hands. “I mean, seriously, and then it was just back to back all day and then I was trying to leave but Sandra needed help on the Phillips-Miller account, and I had to track this thing down for Doug, and well. Now, it’s- what time is it?”

“8:45” Henry replied, relaxing against the doorframe as he held the door ajar. 

“8:45. Well, really 7:30 but then there was all this traffic because of the work they’re doing on the North side which I forgot about. And then I get here, and it’s suddenly raining-”

“And it’s still raining, so why don’t we come inside.” 

“- It’s raining and my umbrella, I can just picture it in the office right next to the coat hook,” You said, turning to point back towards your car briefly and then was back to him, “and my parking spot was taken so I had to park way down there and I-”

“Hey Rose?”

You took a big gulp of air, mid sentence as you continued, “- I just had to run over here to try not to get so wet, and then I get here , and my keys are just-”

Then his warm hands were clasping yours and slowly, yet forcibly, pulling you into the warmth and bright hospitable light of your home. You were silenced - stunned to silence rather. He pulled you into his chest, to get you clear of the swing of the door as he closed it behind you.

The soft cotton of his shirt felt heavenly against your face, even if just for a second before he pivoted you again, towards the easy chair in the corner and sat you down - taking your bag from you and placing it carefully on the floor, then removing your glasses and putting them on the table besides you, before gently getting on his knees and reaching for your drenched shoes, sliding them off one after the other.

“I’m sorry” You whispered quietly through chattering teeth, the dampness of the rain had chilled you to the core, the feeling crept from your soaked hair down your spine. 

“For what?” Henry asked, standing to nab a blanket out of the basket near the windows. 

“For -'' You paused, considering. “I could’ve asked someone for a charger.” You finally replied, watching him select the warmest blanket of the bunch and step back towards you.  

“I could’ve called your work number.” He said, bundling you up tight with a smile. “But I didn’t.” He stood and crossed over behind the couch into the kitchen. “Rosehip or Chamomile?”

“Yeah, you could've.” You rolled your eyes. “But why would you have?! You never call my work phone.”

“But if I really needed to get a hold of you I could’ve. Rosehip or Chamomile?” He grabbed two mugs and the electric kettle from the cabinet by the fridge; set the mugs down and walked to the sink to fill the kettle up.

“Then you should’ve!”

“But I didn’t. Rose, pay attention here, what kind of tea would you like?” He said holding up the two options so that you could see, weighing them back and forth in his hands.

“You should’ve.” You said slumping in your chair. “Seriously.”

“Okay,” He said, rolling his eyes, “We’ll have chamomile, my second favorite. And seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.” Henry put the carton of Rosehip tea away, plucked out two Chamomile tea bags from the box, placing one in each mug.

“But you should’ve called my work phone!” You grumbled, loudly in his direction.

“Rose.” His voice was calm, yet firm. “I could’ve done that. I didn’t. Me not doing that isn’t something you are now responsible for.”

You pulled the blanket tighter and brought your feet up on the chair. Sometimes bad days only get worse. You let your head fall into your blanketed knees in front of you. “I feel terrible, I ruined your day. Maybe even your -.”

“You didn’t ruin my day.” he said, clicking on the kettle and walking back over to you. “When I got here and saw you were still at work, I called it off. We were going to be early anyway, so there was plenty of time to let them know, and also it really wasn’t that big of a deal.” He sat in the chair next to you, and carefully reached across to tug your feet into his lap. “So I came in and decided to stay awhile. If you weren’t home by 9:30 I was going to drive up and get you.” The feeling of his hands on your feet, your sore and frozen feet, felt like magic.

“Now you really didn’t need to think about doing that '' You mumbled, feeling little bits of your stress melt away as his thumbs kneaded into the ball of your left foot.

“I hate it when you drive home so late. Ugh, it makes me nervous.” Henry said shuttering. He put your left foot down carefully in his lap, and picked up your right.

“Nothing would’ve happened! Nothing ever happens, I’m a good driver and I always have Stan to walk me to my car if I need to.” You protested, toes folding as Henry skimmed a ticklish spot in the crevice next to your big toe.

“Not yet it hasn’t. I’ve got the time, I can drive you when it gets late, that way you can rest on the way home.”

“Nothing-” You began, the pitch of your voice rose indignantly.

“No no no. We’re not playing this game again. Case and point. It’s not even 9:15 and you’re exhausted.”

You meant to say “no I’m not”, but instead you let out a massive and loud yawn, and your eyes fluttered, suddenly feeling heavy. You re-adjusted the blanket around you again, pulling it practically up to your nose. Henry chuckled. “Yeah. Exactly.”

He moved your feet out of the way as he stood, extending his arms out straight above his head, and tilting side to side to crack his back. Then he walked over towards the whistling kettle, and said, “Why don’t you get those wet clothes off and hop in the shower while I heat up something to eat.”

“You don’t have to do that.” You replied somberly.

“I want to.” he said, then eyes sparkling, he added, “You’re making me cold, looking at you all bundled up over there with your wet clothes and wet hair and wet socks.”

“okay” You groaned, getting to your feet. He was right of course. You were positively soaked, and the blanket was nice, but also like putting scotch tape on the Hoover Dam. Not entirely helpful.

You slid your feet one at a time, across the hardwood floor and into the kitchen where Henry waited for you with your warm mug of Chamomile tea. “Take this with you” he said, depositing the deliciously hot cup in your hands. “It will heat you up while you get the shower running.”

“Can’t I take you with me?” you said cheekily, fighting a grin. “To heat me up even when the shower’s running?”

Henry’s mouth fell open in mock surprise and chuckled, then took a few fast steps towards you, prompting you to skitter away towards the stairs giggling all the way. “Don’t tempt me with a good time baby.” he called after you, all smiles.