Summary: You just loveeeeee being a pain in Azriel's well-shaped behind.
Warnings: none!
Azriel’s POV:
I’m sitting in a beautiful garden, wings lazily draped over the oversized armchair I’m sitting in, made especially for Illyrians. The lovely female smiled as she placed my plate down in front of me: creme brulee tarts, something I had been craving since I returned from my mission. I hungrily eyed the golden layer of hardened caramel on top, looking forward to the satisfaction of breaking through the crunchy layer and into the delicious vanilla custard underneath.
“Thank you,” I said with a smile to the kind server, and watched as she walked away before picking up one of the tarts. I brought it up to my lips, an almost painful anticipation filling my chest. I was just about to bite into the tart when all of a sudden, I heard this agitating, grating voice, and I was smacked in the face with something soft.
I peek one eye open with a gasp, only to spot a vicious, hangry monster readying itself for another attack on my face with the soft object.
Your POV:
“Azriel!” You smacked him in the face with a pillow for what felt like the millionth time now, and still this overgrown bat wouldn’t wake up. A part of you knew he was doing it on purpose to piss you off, though. His shadows immediately scattered as you smacked him again, going to settle in different corners of the room.
Clearly, Azriel was going to get no support from them in dealing with you. One of them hung around you, though, curling around your fingers despite its master's obvious suffering.
You finally let up and tossed the pillow aside. “Azriel~” you whined, plopping your torso down on him, feet still firmly planted on the ground by the edge of his bed. He lay on his back, “sleeping,” but peeked an eye open when you lay on him. A small smirk appeared on his face, seeing that he was getting to you. “Wake up, Azzie,” you droned. “I wanna go out for breakfast, and everyone else is doing something else.”
That seemed to get a response. Without opening his eyes, he tsked. “Wow, so I’m just your backup?” he asked, offended, voice still groggy from sleep.
You gasped in mock offence. “No, I’m justifying why I can’t go with anybody else before you try to suggest it.” You stood up straight again and took a seat on the edge of the bed next to him.
He sighed, propping himself up on one elbow, and cleared his throat before talking. “What are the others doing?” He dragged a hand down his face tiredly.
You began counting your family. “Well, Rhys and Feyre are busy with Nyx, and I’m fairly certain they wouldn’t have slept last night because Nyx was getting fussy yesterday, Mor is out with some female she met at the bar, Cassian and Nesta are definitely fucking, though they’re trying to be quiet. It's not working. And Elain isn’t great company. She doesn't talk much, and I get bored.” You ended with a laboured exhale, turning to the Shadowsinger with pleading eyes to understand your predicament.
Azriel chuckled, patted your leg sympathetically and laid back down. “Sounds rough.”
“Plus,” you said in a tone that suggested you’re sucking up to him now. “You’re my bestie!”
He narrowed his eyes at you as if questioning your claim. However, the Spymaster of the Night Court stood no chance against your pleading puppy eyes. He grumbled, “I hate you so much,” as he sat up once again.
You beamed, throwing your arms around his neck. “I love you, Grumpy McGrumperson,” you declared, then got off the bed. “I’m going to wait outside. Be ready in five!” you announced before you started walking towards the door.
Azriel dragged a hand down his face, sighing deeply.
“By the way,” you continued from the doorway. “You’re paying.”
Azirel groaned loudly, plopping backwards till his head hit the pillow.
Ok picture this… reader wants to go to the Yule ball with Cedric but he takes Cho so childhood best friend George steps in and takes her and they realise they have feelings for eachother and kiss in the common room 🥹🥹
Yule Be Mine? | George Weasley x reader
Summary: You fully thought Cedric Diggory was going to ask you to the Yule Ball, but when he takes Cho instead, your best friend George comes to the rescue.
Warnings: allusions to sex, mentions of sex, swearing, fluff! Not proofread. Also, for the sake of this fic, Y/n, George, and Fred are all 18, and Hermione is 16.
a/n: my first George fic!! I wish you weren't anonymous. I really wanted your reaction for this :(( But anyway, I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!!!!!
Cedric Diggory.
The Hufflepuff team’s captain and seeker, prefect, all teachers’ favourite student, a Triwizard Tournament contender, and the boy you had fancied for the better part of this year.
It all started when the two of you were seated next to each other in Charms last year and talked for the first time…ever. You never noticed how pretty he was up close before, how smart and charming and funny and clever. A few months into sitting next to him, you two got to know each other better, and before you knew it, conversations turned into bants, and light touches here and there were barely out of the ordinary. Soon, that transitioned into occasionally finding yourself in his sheets, a quickie in an abandoned corridor when nobody was around, making out between classes with some light petting, a blowjob here, head there, and it had all been fun and slowly, but surely, you had caught feelings.
So, when the Yule Ball’s approach was announced, you quickly started daydreaming of going with him. How perfect you two would look: you in your alluring gown and him in a suit with a tie matching your dress, as if cut from the same cloth, a metaphor for how you two complemented each other. The thought made you giddy.
You were fully convinced he was going to ask you as well. The signs were all there, and it was basically all you had talked to George about in the weeks approaching: how he was going to do it, where he’d do it (“I hope he does it privately, like on the Astronomy Tower”), when he’d do it, etc. George would playfully roll his eyes every time you brought up the subject, if only to hide the ache in his chest every time you mentioned Cedric. However, seeing you so chuffed made the pain worthwhile. So the redhead was thoroughly confused when he heard through the grapevine that Cedric had asked out Cho Chang.
George didn’t waste another second after Fabian Queenie told him after classes that Thursday, practically shoving his books into Fred’s arms and sprinting to the Gryffindor dorms to find you. He ran up to your dorm and rapped his knuckles against the door in the pattern you two had come up with so you’d know who was there without them having to say it. Knock…knock…knock knock.
When you didn’t answer, he called gently, “Y/n…? It's Georgie.”
A few seconds later, your meek voice answered. “Come in.”
He twisted the handle and walked in. The curtains were drawn over the large windows, casting thick shadows over the room and obscuring basically everything from view. The next thing he noticed was that your shoes were haphazardly kicked off, since he nearly tripped over one as he walked to your bed at the opposite end of the room. He found you in a starfish position, still in your robes, staring up at the ceiling with red, puffy eyes and an empty look in them. Your hair was messy, robes slightly wrinkled, and your books had been carelessly tossed on the desk.
He opened the curtains on one of the windows, letting the blazing sunlight filter into the room, making you groan in discomfort. He turned to you, arms crossed. “I heard what happened,” he said, standing by the bed and looking down at you.
You chuckled self-deprecatingly, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. “I feel so fucking pathetic,” your voice came out scratchy. “I mean,” you sniffled, twisting George’s heart painfully. “He’s never even said he fancies me. I just went about making these stories in my head that he does. I’m fucking daft.”
You pulled yourself into a seated position, smoothing out your hair and wiping the tears from your face.
“To be fair, after doing the things he did to you,” he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, leading you to throw a pillow at him. He caught it and chuckled. “But after your situation, you’re not wrong to assume he might be interested in you.”
You stayed silent for a few seconds, still staring at the ceiling, then closed your eyes. “I feel used.” Your voice came out small, as if it were an admission you were scared to hear yourself.
George’s heart squeezed in his chest at your tone. It wasn’t just that he was seeing you in pain. He greatly cared about his friends, and he wanted to fight anyone who hurt them. But more importantly, this was you. George had yet to come across anyone as brilliant, kind, and beautiful as you. You didn’t deserve this. Not from some soggy sock-looking bloke. Not from anyone. He just wished you’d see in yourself what he saw, that you deserved to be treated like a queen, to have whatever you wanted at your feet, a guy who’d lie in a puddle and let you walk over him so your shoes didn’t get dirty. Him.
“Don’t feel bad, love,” George ruffled your hair. “You weren’t wrong for liking him. He does have a certain…charm about him,” he said comfortingly, trying his best to hide the irritation in his voice. ‘Charm’ being just his painfully average face, he added silently to himself.
You side-eyed him. “Don’t you hate him for telling on you after you and Fred flooded the dungeons with that sticky liquid?”
“And yet I’m praising him for you,” he replied as he sat down at the edge of your bed. “Imagine how much I must love you.”
You chuckled softly. “I love you too, Georgie. I really appreciate you trying to cheer me up.” You nudged his arm affectionately with your foot.
George smiled but quickly hid it with a grimace. “Now don’t get all emotional on me,” he iterated with mock disgust, although his heart was doing backflips in his chest at your declaration. If only you meant it the same way he did.
You swatted his arm, laughing again. “I’m trying to be appreciative here.”
“Exactly. Doesn’t suit you,” he shook his head disapprovingly. “You’re much better off being the cocky witch yelling at Fred and me for being irresponsible dimbos.” George grinned at you.
“Someone's gotta keep you two idiots alive,” you replied coyly.
He laughed, earning a small huff of amusement from you as well. A few seconds of silence passed with you both basking in the lighter atmosphere before you dragged your hands down your face.
“Ugh, I’m gonna look so fucking pathetic going to the ball alone now,” you groaned, plopping back down.
George rolled his eyes at how dramatic you were being. He lay down next to you with his head on the same pillow, hands on his stomach, and nudged your leg with his. “You’re not gonna go alone.”
You peered at him through a gap between your fingers. “And who’s gonna ask me?”
George considered this for a moment, rubbing his chin in thought. “I mean, if all else fails, you could always go with Nearly Headless Nick.”
“George!” You smacked him in the face with a pillow, but he put his hands up in time, laughing.
“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he said, still laughing, as he gingerly took the pillow from your hands before you attacked him again. “But,” he continued, suddenly serious. “If it's alright with you,” he looked away while talking with a timid cadence you had never heard before. “We could go together.”
Your breath stuttered at the suggestion. You turned your head towards him, brows furrowed in confusion. “Weren’t you gonna ask Fleur Delacour?”
He shook his head slightly. “Nah, that was just a joke,” he waved a hand dismissively, sitting up once again and looking down at his hands.
You observed him for a couple more seconds, taking in the way his hands lightly fidgeted with the pillow in his lap, his leg bouncing nervously, and a slight aversion of his gaze from yours, as if waiting for your rejection. He was nervous, which confused you beyond measure because George had never been nervous around you. However, the thought of going to the ball with him was exciting. You wouldn’t have to pretend to be all girly and sophisticated because George already knew you were a messy eater; you could enjoy without having to worry that you were going to say the wrong thing, and contrary to his reputation, he was an excellent dancer.
A radiant smile overtook your features then, and you sat up excitedly. “I would love to go with you, Georgie.”
His face lit up, brows raising in surprise and leg stilling in its bouncing. “Really? Alright then!”
You nodded with a smile, feeling suddenly bashful, and averted your gaze, but if the pink dusting on George’s face was any hint, you weren’t the only one.
The week of the ball arrived sooner than anticipated. You and Hermione had gone shopping together, which was exciting in and of itself. Not only because trying on different dresses and feeling pretty was fun, but also because this was literally the first time you were doing something like this with Hermione. Usually, she would steer clear of anything “girly,” whether that be shopping, makeup, or boys. This time, however, she had been asked to the Yule Ball by the one and only Durmstrang hottie boom body, Victor Krum.
You two made a whole day out of it: brunch at a small, quaint cafe with a scent of coffee and cinnamon in the air, and way too many candles, then the afternoon spent walking around different stores in search of gowns.
“How's this one?” you asked as you walked out of the change room in a floor-length, navy blue gown encrusted with enough crystals to make it seem like you’d donned the Milky Way.
Hermione gave you a wide-eyed, awestruck up-and-down before nodding in approval. “This is it,” she smiled.
You grinned in response before going back into the change room to put on your regular clothes.
“So tell me again, how did the George thing happen?” she called out to you while you were changing.
You sighed, thinking back to it. “I told you. Cedric decided to go with Cho, and I was too embarrassed to show up by myself because that would look ultra mega pathetic, so George asked me to make me feel better.”
Hermione scoffed at your oblivion. “You really don’t see it, do you?”
“See what?” you asked. “Hey, can you help me with the zipper?”
“He is absolutely smitten with you!” she exclaimed as she entered the change room to help you out of the dress.
“What?” you laughed in disbelief. “He is not. He’s just my best friend, and he didn’t want me to be sad over some guy. He’s just being nice, Mione.”
Hermione looked at you incredulously. “You’re the only person to go down in history who George has ever been ‘nice’ to. Normally they’re just a pain in everyone's arses.” She gave you an unimpressed look when you only chuckled in response. “Mark my words. By the end of this year, you two will be together.”
You rolled your eyes playfully while shaking your head at her, but a weird excitement filled you at the thought. Not my Georgie, you thought to yourself. You quickly put on the shirt you were wearing again and gathered the flouncy gown, draping it over one arm while walking out.
“So…you and Victor?” you said in a suggestive tone, making Hermione blush furiously. This was perhaps the first and only time you’d see her flounder for a response.
And so went the entire day with you two shopping for your dresses, heels, and accessories, deciding the looks, and discussing your tragic and her nonexistent love lives. A true girls' day for the history books.
You walked down the moving staircase from the Gryffindor dorms, internally cringing at the entrance you’d make with George standing at the bottom of the steps, but unfortunately, jumping out the window wasn’t an option.
“Looking absolutely breathtaking, Miss L/n,” George announced grandly, bowing as you stepped down the last stair. Surprisingly, the hint of teasing you’d expected was missing from his tone.
“Looking mighty handsome yourself, Mr. Weasley,” you responded sincerely, setting your hand in his open palm.
Fred simply smirked at you from his place next to George. “You look hot, Y/n,” he said with that boyish charm and a flirty wink that had you laughing. It was truly fascinating how two people who look so alike can be so different.
“Oi, that's my date,” George lightly shoved his brother.
You laughed, your hand still in George’s as he led you to the Great Hall where the ball was held. The hall had been redecorated with all the tables removed, icicles coming down from the ceiling looking as if they were sparkling, and three massive trees with snow on the leaves stood at the back of the room. There were beautiful fountains that looked as if the water was frozen. The room looked absolutely ethereal, and you couldn’t help but look around in awe at the beauty of it all.
“I'm going to go find Angelina,” Fred announced before departing, leaving you and George alone.
You leaned in and said quietly in George’s ear, “I still can’t thank you enough for coming with me, Georgie.”
He scoffed, shaking his head. “No need to thank me, love. I got a beautiful date with whom I can actually enjoy myself, instead of worrying about how I’m dancing or if I’m being entertaining enough. So really, the pleasure is all mine.”
You smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek that had George’s heart rate speeding up. The things you do to him without even knowing. He squeezed your hand before guiding you further into the throng of immaculately dressed, exquisitely smelling Durmstrang, Hogwarts, and Beauxbatons students. You looked around at everyone with a smile, greeting a few students from classes and some you had gotten to know since the Triwizard Tournament started. (“You look beautiful!” “Thank you! You as well!”).
As you made your way towards the centre, however, your happiness and excitement crashed and burned into a heap of dread, and the ashes stood in front of you in the form of Cedric Diggory and his date, Cho Chang, doing what could only be described as canoodling. Her arms were around his shoulders, and his hands rested on her waist as their lips met repeatedly for a series of puppy kisses that pulled disgusted looks from both you and George. Despite what you and Cedric had done together, this was still too inappropriate to be happening in public.
Cedric pulled away from her after a couple of seconds with a silly grin and turned around…only to lock eyes with you. He smiled, transitioned into a smile as he paused his meandering gaze to take in your look: your dress, the intricate updo your hair was in, the flawless makeup, and of course, the man on your arm.
“Hey, Y/n!” he greeted cheerfully as if you two were besties.
“Mhmm,” was the only response he got. Surely he couldn’t think you were happy with him at the moment after him using you for months and then discarding you when it came time to show real commitment. Some man, he was.
“Hey there,” George greeted in an attempt to diffuse the awkward atmosphere.
Now, you might be giving this soggy sock of a man too much credit, but you were expecting some kind of accountability. Some acknowledgement that what he did was wrong, to look the slightest bit apologetic for what he did, but no. He chose avoidance in typical Cedric fashion.
“You look nice tonight, Y/n,” Cedric commented with his charming smile. The nerve of this man! At least his compliment earned him a glare from Cho.
“Stop talking to me,” you replied coldly and took a load of pleasure in watching his smile falter.
You only stayed long enough for Cho to look at Cedric quizzically before you and George walked past them.
“Cedric Diggory has no balls,” you sneered when you two were far enough away from the pair. “Metaphorically speaking, of course. I’ve seen the real ones. Small-balled fucker,” you muttered angrily.
George gaped at you in shock for a second before bursting into laughter. “I can’t believe you just said that!” he laughed, doubling over.
You looked at him laughing, still angry at Cedric, but hearing George’s contagious laughter broke your resolve, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer, joining him. “I don’t know where that came from either.”
For some time, you two stood there shit-talking Cedric, you getting upset over how betrayed and hurt you felt and George doing everything in his power to make you laugh. As you listened to George talking, you couldn’t help but think back to all the times you had been upset, and he had done what he could to make you smile again, and an unexpected warmth filled you at the thought. George Weasley was truly a keeper, and you were beyond grateful to call him your best friend.
A while later, the two of you met with some friends: Fred and his date, Angelina, Lee Jordan and his date, Oliver Wood, Alicia Snippet, and Katie Bell. The lot of you chatted for a bit while snacking at the food table and sipping on your drinks before dancing started. Fred did not waste a second before bowing to Angelina and asking for her hand in a dance, which she graciously (and bashfully) accepted. Oliver shyly asked Katie if she’d like to dance, and Alicia was swept away by a Durmstrang Quidditch player (“You better not switch teams after this,” George teasingly instructed the girl), and eventually it was just the two of you standing there.
You looked to George, not saying it, but he knew what you wanted. He smirked cockily before bowing and offering his hand. “M’lady, care to honour this humble peasant with the blessing to dance with your highness?”
“Why yes, kind sir. Thought you’d never ask,” you replied in the same tone.
The two of you headed to the dance floor, one of his hands on your waist, the other holding yours to the side, while your other hand rested on his shoulder. You swayed to the music slowly, sinking into the rhythm of the gentle melody playing.
You looked around the room at the other dancing couples, even spotting Cho and Cedric, but your body did not fill with the jealousy and rage as you had anticipated. Instead, you felt glad that it wasn’t you with him, for you might have liked Cedric, but nobody except George could make the night as fun for you as it had been so far. The realisation jars you a bit.
“You having a good time, love?” George asked softly, pulling your attention back to him.
His wide brown eyes watched you carefully, taking in every minute change in your expression, and you felt something tugging at your heartstrings. Had he always been this attentive? Had his tone always been that soft and careful?
“I am,” you replied softly. “And you?”
“One of the best nights of my life,” he murmured, his face graced with a fond smile.
The earnestness in his tone caught you off guard. Normally, questions like this would be met with sarcasm from him, but tonight, he seemed to let some of his vulnerability show, to allow you a brief peek into his mind and heart through his eyes, and you had to admit that the world beyond the molten chocolate seemed like a dream you didn’t want to escape.
You tipped your chin up, bringing your faces impossibly closer, noses barely brushing against each other. You heard the slight hitch in George’s breathing, the change in his eyes that went from teasing to longing, and the hand holding yours at the side came to rest on the back of your neck, pushing your faces even closer. It would be so easy to close that gap. To feel his lips on yours. To cross that boundary between best friends and lovers.
“Y/n!” a voice called from somewhere to the side, causing you and George to jump apart. You turned to see Hermione walking towards you, no Victor Krum in sight, and tears in her eyes. Immediately, you imagined the worst: he had stood her up. She marched up towards you and pulled you away.
“I’ll find you later,” you quickly said to George apologetically and let Hermione lead you away.
George stood there, feeling flustered and disappointed that he hadn’t gotten to kiss you like he’d wanted to, basically since the second year, but he hoped he’d have more chances tonight to do it properly, grand romantic speech and all.
You sat with Hermione on the steps while she cried. She told you that she had a great time with Victor, and she was upset because of a stupid argument with Ron. You rubbed her back while she cried (“Boys are idiots, Mione”) and let her rest her head on your shoulder while she bawled her heart out.
When you didn’t return for a while, George came to find you.
“What’s wrong?” he asked worriedly.
“Your brother is an idiot,” you responded.
He put his hands in his pockets. “That could apply to any of them. I need you to be specific.”
You rolled your eyes. “Ron, obviously,” you gestured to Hermione.
“Ah, my apologies,” he said and took a seat on Hermione’s other side and gently nudged her shoulder with hers. “I don’t know what he did, but I can tell you, ever since he was young, he’s said things he hasn’t meant when he’s upset. Just whack him on the head and tell him he’s a dozy. That's what mum always did.”
That earned a laugh out of Hermione, and she nodded in response. “Noted.”
After sitting with her for a bit, you left her to find Victor again and enjoy the rest of her night.
“Wanna head back?” George asked softly.
You nodded. “Yeah, my feet are killing me,” you shifted your weight from one foot to another to soothe the ache that had settled there.
“Would you like me to carry you up the stairs?” he asked flirtatiously, head dipping towards yours.
You took this opportunity to tease him. You stepped back, gave him an up-down assessing look, then said, “I don’t think you’re strong enough to carry me.”
He quirked an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge?”
“Maybe,” you smirked. “You strong enough to prove me wrong?”
He only smirked once before you were being swept off your feet. You yelped as your arms flew around George’s neck automatically to hold on. He laughed before walking out of the Great Hall and towards the Gryffindor dorms. Throughout, though, your eyes did not leave each other, lost in each other's gazes as if the rest of the school did not exist.
He finally set you down once you were in the common room, which was empty, only a lit fire in the hearth creating a warm atmosphere. However, the warmth of the fire was nothing compared to the warmth of George’s gaze as he looked at you. By this point, your hair had come slightly loose from its updo, a couple of the strands falling onto your forehead, which he gently reached out to brush back.
Unconsciously, you leaned into his touch, which released a swarm of butterflies in George's chest. Had you always been this adorable?
“You know,” you started quietly. “We never did get to have that kiss.”
“Yeah…we didn’t,” he whispered, stepping closer. His hands settled on your waist once again, and yours wound around his shoulders.
His eyes flicked to your lips as he leaned in a little more, your noses brushing once again, and this time, you closed your eyes and leaned in further. He followed, both of your hearts pounding in your chests until your lips met, and suddenly everything went silent. The crackling of the hearth, the faint sounds of music, and both of your erratic breathing- none of it existed anymore. Only the feeling of his lips pressed to yours, moving in a rhythm built by the drumming of your hearts. His hands on your waist pulled you closer as he kissed you deeper, like he’d been starved of you for ages. A soft sound escaped him, somewhat like a whine but with yearning that all doubts you might’ve had about ruining your friendship dissolved into nothing. Because this kiss was proof that this was meant to be. This one kiss told you that George would protect your heart forever, and you would protect his.
You two pulled away after a while with bright smiles and swollen lips and heavy breathing, yet unbelievably light hearts.
“Let's go up to my room?” you asked, and he nodded without hesitation.
In your room, you approached your bed and turned your back towards him. “Do you mind unzipping the dress?”
George stood behind you, and you could feel the heat of his body behind you. It thrilled you endlessly. He pressed a soft kiss to the back of your neck before sliding down the zipper gently. The dress slid down your body and pooled at your feet, leaving you in your underclothes in front of him.
You slowly turned around to face him, feeling weirdly shy.
His breath caught in his chest as he took in the sight of you standing in your underwear. “You, love, are the most breathtaking creature I’ve ever seen.” He tentatively rested his hands on your hips again as if he was handling something fragile and delicate.
You pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back. “I’m gonna change into my PJs. Make yourself comfortable.”
He nodded and watched you walk away with a whipped smile on his face.
You returned a few minutes later in your PJs to find George sitting at the edge of your bed in his undershirt and briefs. His elbows rested on his knees, and you couldn’t help but be taken by his very toned arms. Years of Quidditch had given him a beautiful physique, and you mentally chastised yourself for not appreciating it sooner.
“You still look handsome,” you smiled as you stepped between his legs. Your hands went to tangle in his hair as he peered up at you dreamily.
“And you still look breathtaking,” he murmured. “It's unfair.”
You chuckled, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head. It was odd that it didn’t feel odd, considering your first kiss happened mere minutes ago. Yet the usual shyness that comes with a first kiss, with being vulnerable with a person for the first time, was nowhere to be found in either of you. Perhaps that's the best part about being with your best friend. There’s no shame, no nerves, just comfort and the feeling that for once, something is going incredibly right.
“Can you help me with my hair?” you asked softly.
He nodded, letting go of you so you could settle in front of him. His hands went to your hair and gingerly started fishing out the sparkly clips and bobby pins in your hair. He was unbelievably gentle, making sure not to tug on your hair too much and apologizing every time he accidentally pulled too hard.
When he was done, he buried his fingers in your hair and massaged your scalp for a couple of minutes.
“Mmmm, you’re a godsend,” you tipped your head back into his touch, utterly blissed out.
He laughed softly. “I remember you complaining last year when you did that bun for your birthday that your head was hurting. Figured it’d be the same this time around.”
You turned around to face him, causing his arms to fall to his sides.
“Someone should’ve told me sooner that dating your best friend is like this. I would’ve given in way sooner,” you teased.
He smiled and leaned in, as did you, and your lips met once again in a soft, loving kiss. The rest of the night was spent with you making out in your bed until you got tired and fell asleep.
Being Obsessed with Steve’s New Body | Steve Harrington x reader
Thank you, everyone, for sending in Fred and George requests!! Currently working on the Oscar Piastri x reader PR relationship fic and brainstorming the requests. In the meantime, here’s Steve and his pudgy tummy that I’ve been obsessed w lately!
Steve lay on his back on the bed, tossing a ball in the air and catching it. Every time he stretched his arm up to catch the ball, his shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of his tummy: the slightly softer abdomen that hadn't been there just 6 months prior, the curve of his stomach that was more prominent than before, the soft strands of his happy trail disappearing beneath the hem of his sweatpants. The sight made you drool. It was just so domestic, and your heart was practically bursting with affection.
You approached the bed and lay down on top of him, comfortably slotting yourself between his thighs, resting your chin on your hands that rested on his soft tummy, and peering up at him. Steve stopped tossing the ball, one hand coming down to stroke your hair as he looked at you with a soft smile.
“Hey there, pretty girl,” he murmured, making your heart flutter.
You smiled softly before responding, “Hi, Stevie,” and pressing a soft kiss to his stomach.
“Can I help you with something?”
You shook your head in response then continued looking up at him with that same devoted twinkle in your eyes. The look that now made a bashful smile creep onto Steve’s face.
“What?” He whispered, a slight pink tint to his cheeks.
“Nothing,” you responded. “You’ve just been looking extra good lately.”
Steve huffed out a laugh at that. “You’re kidding. I’ve actually put on weight. I need to start running or playing basketball again or something.”
“That’s exactly why you’ve been looking extra good.” You slid your hands out from under your chin and slid them up his shirt, gently stroking his sides and relished in the feeling of the slight shudder that went through him.
“The weight is making me look good? Are you okay?” He snorted.
“I mean it.” You pulled his shirt up to reveal his torso fully, sitting up a little so you were hovering him. You pressed soft kisses to his stomach as you talked. “Ever since the Upside Down shit started,” kiss “your health kinda took the back burner, but” kiss “now you’ve been eating right again,” kiss “you’ve been happier,” kiss “and your body is showing it. You’ve never been more attractive, Stevie.” You pressed a soft kiss to his lips.
His breath hitched when you finally kisses his lips, eyes misting over slightly. “You think so?” His voice cracked slightly.
“I think so,” you affirmed then buried your face in his neck.
“I love you to Neptune and back, do you know that?” He murmured, wrapping his arms around you and pressing his lips to your forehead.
You chuckled. “Isn’t it ‘moon and back’?”
“The moon is too close to cover how much I love you,” he explained. “Neptune, though, is the farthest planet from Earth.”
You smiled widely against his neck, heart doing a whole gymnastics routine in your chest. “Then I love you to Neptune and back too, Stevie.”
summary: Azriel finds out that you are going to be helping your friend Kaelen with a task and he gets a bit...jealous.
warnings: none
"Azriel, wake up!" You shook your boyfriend’s shoulder, trying to rouse him from sleep. You had been at it for the past ten minutes, standing beside his bed, fully dressed and ready for the day, while Azriel hadn't even grazed the hem of consciousness.
Growing impatient, you gave his shoulder a more violent shake, but the stubborn male simply groaned, rolling away from you as if the world beyond his dreams didn’t exist.
You knew he was doing this on purpose. The exaggerated snoring, the way his lips twitched with suppressed amusement—it was all a game to him. Teasing you seemed to be his favorite pastime.
Crossing your arms, you huffed, "Azriel, if you don't wake up, I'm leaving, and you won’t see me the entire weekend!"
That got him moving.
In a blink, Azriel sat up and yanked you down onto the bed, pulling a surprised shriek from your lips. Before you could even register what had happened, you found yourself pinned beneath him, his powerful frame hovering over yours.
"Az!" you gasped, glaring up at him.
He smirked, his golden-brown eyes filled with heat and amusement. His tousled black hair fell over his forehead, his bare chest warm against yours. His lips—plump and pink—parted slightly as he took you in.
"You know," he murmured, voice still husky from sleep, "you look so hot when you're threatening me."
Butterflies erupted in your stomach at his words, and you internally cursed yourself for how easily he affected you.
Rolling your eyes, you retorted, "How would you know? Your eyes were closed."
Azriel grinned. "Touché." Then, before you could say another word, he leaned down and caught your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.
His thumb stroked your jaw as his hand came up to cup your face, and when you tangled your fingers in his soft hair, pulling him closer, a low groan escaped his throat—sending a thrill straight through you.
When you finally broke apart, breathless and smiling, Azriel pressed one last kiss to your forehead before collapsing onto his back and pulling you to his chest.
You lay there, fingers tracing lazy patterns over his stomach.
"You wanna go to the café later today?" he asked casually, brushing his fingers through your hair.
You lifted your head, meeting his gaze through your lashes. "You know, your efforts in asking me on a date have dropped significantly since we started dating."
Azriel playfully swatted at your shoulder. "Do you, though?"
You sighed. "I can’t. I promised Kaelen I’d help him go through some old potion books to find a cure for the plague in the Autumn Court."
Azriel’s brows immediately furrowed. "When? You didn’t tell me about this before."
"I just did," you replied with a teasing smile, reaching out to stroke his cheek.
Azriel sat up suddenly, facing you, his expression unreadable. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, then closed again.
"Are you okay?" you teased. "Shall I fetch a fishbowl for you, Mr. Shadowsinger?"
Azriel ignored your quip, his jaw tightening. "Why you?"
"Because he asked for my help," you shrugged. "It’s not a big deal, Azzie."
Azriel’s expression darkened. "He obviously has a crush on you, Y/N!"
You blinked, then laughed outright. "That’s ridiculous!"
Azriel did not look amused.
"Y/N, I’ve seen the way he looks at you," he insisted. "During training, after training, every time you’re in the same room—"
"He’s my friend," you interrupted, shaking your head. "And even if he did have a crush on me, I’m not interested, so you have no reason to be jealous."
Azriel exhaled sharply, but his grip around your waist tightened possessively.
"I’m not jealous," he sputtered, though the glint in his eyes said otherwise. "I just don’t want another male eyeing what mine"
You grinned. "Okay, that was kind of cute."
Azriel smirked, but you could still feel the tension in his body.
"Now," you continued, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of bed, "I’m heading down to breakfast. See you there in a few?"
"Yeah," Azriel muttered, watching you go, still brooding.
Breakfast had come and gone, and Azriel never showed up.
You now sat in the Townhouse with Mor, half-listening to her chatter while your eyes constantly wandered to the door, waiting for your missing Shadowsinger.
Finally, Cassian walked in.
"Hey, Y/N," he greeted.
"Hey," you replied, still watching the door.
Cassian raised a brow. "Looking for someone?"
"Yeah," you sighed. "Did you see Azriel?"
Cassian shook his head, offering an apologetic shrug.
Before you could dwell on it, Kaelen appeared in front of you.
"Hey!" he greeted with a smile. "Still good for the library at one?"
"Yep!" you confirmed.
And then—as if summoned by pure spite—the doors finally opened, and in walked the Shadowsinger.
Your stupidly handsome boyfriend zeroed in on you instantly… and then his gaze darkened when he spotted Kaelen.
Striding over, Azriel dropped into the seat beside you and wrapped an arm around your shoulders, kissing your forehead.
"Hey, princess," he murmured. Then, to Kaelen—dryly—"Hey."
Kaelen nodded stiffly, then quickly took his leave.
You turned to Azriel, crossing your arms. "I waited for you for over an hour! Where were you?"
Azriel smirked and pulled a small bag from behind him. "I went to get you this."
You frowned as he held up a blue hoodie with “AZRIEL’S GIRL” embroidered in gold across the front.
"What is that?" you asked incredulously.
"Your outfit," he declared, "for when you’re with Kaelen. So he knows you’re mine."
You groaned. "Azriel, the whole damn Court already knows we’re together!"
"I’d just like to make it extra clear so he can focus his efforts on someone else," he said smugly.
"You’re impossible," you muttered, but a small laugh escaped you.
Azriel leaned in and whispered, "Besides… you look crazy sexy in blue."
Your cheeks flamed, and you shoved him away.
After much persuasion (and lowkey begging from Azriel), you begrudgingly wore the hoodie over your outfit before meeting Kaelen.
"Cool hoodie," he remarked, smirking.
You mumbled a quiet, "Thanks," before diving into your research.
An hour later, as you were packing up, a male dressed in an orange tunic approached Kaelen.
"Hey, babe," the male said, kissing Kaelen’s lips.
Azriel, standing beside you, visibly paled.
Kaelen was—as you had told him—not even remotely interested in you.
Turning to Azriel with a smug grin, you said, "See, Azzie?"
Azriel cleared his throat. "You didn’t say he was gay."
You smirked. "Regardless… you should listen to your girlfriend."
a/n: I wrote this in like 15 mins so please excuse any errors or poor quality of writing here
Your head rested on Azriel’s chest, the steady beating of his heart thumping in your ear, his stomach slowly rising and falling as he breathed under your arm, and the morning seemed perfect just like that. The sunlight pouring in through the open blinds spilt beautifully over your mate’s features, accentuating his high cheekbones, chiselled jaw, and the spattering of freckles all over his face. To you, Azriel had never looked more ethereal. Looking at your mate at peace was not a pleasure you got to experience often due to his job, but those stolen moments of vulnerability, where it was just you and him and nothing else mattered, were some of the most precious in your relationship.
Azriel stirred slightly, turning on his side. You moved your head from his chest to his bicep and continued looking at his face.
“You’re staring,” he mumbled, eyes still closed while a small smile played on his lips.
You smiled at his little shadows dancing around the corners mischievously. “I’m admiring,” you whispered, moving a little closer.
He opened his eyes now, looking at you with sleepiness still in them but regardless, your breath caught in your throat at the beauty of his eyes, so angelic and alluring with the sunlight still coming in from the background, and the playfulness in them.
“Okay, stalker,” he mumbled jokingly.
You furrowed your brows in amusement. “Says the guy who stalks for a living?” you replied.
Azriel gasped in mock offence. “It’s called spying, thank you very much.”
You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly. “You call it spying, I call it glorified stalking.”
Azriel only chuckled in response, turning onto his back and rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” he yawned, stretching his arms above his head.
“Way too early to be up,” you replied.
“Then why are you?” he asked, turning back to you now and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your skin heated where he touched your face, eyes closing briefly at the safety and warmth you felt.
Your heads rested on the same pillow now, noses almost touching. Azriel wrapped an arm around your waist and tangled his legs with yours. You shrugged in response to his question. “Woke up a couple of hours ago and couldn’t fall back asleep,” you said.
Azriel hummed in understanding, placing a kiss on your forehead.
“Well, we still have a couple of hours before we have to be up. You wanna try sleeping till then?” he asked, yawning, his eyes drooping closed already.
You nodded in response, cuddling into Azriel’s warm body and letting your eyes fall closed as well. His breathing was just starting to even out again when you said, “I love you, Az,” and kissed his chest. “More than anything.”
He stroked your hair before replying, “I love you more than I love you.”
Your brows furrowed at what he said, not understanding the meaning behind his words. You decided to ask him later about it and for the moment, let yourself get lost in the realm of dreams again.
A couple of hours later, you woke up to an empty bed. Downstairs, you could hear clattering in the kitchen and concluded that Azriel had taken to making breakfast this morning. Your heart warmed at how caring and sweet your mate was.
You got out of bed and made your way downstairs to the kitchen where you saw Azriel with his back turned to you. He was still shirtless, putting the large expanse of his back, the muscles flexing as he worked on display. Even after 10 years of being mated, the sight still made you blush.
Approaching Azriel, you wrapped your arms around his waist, hugging his body close.
“Good morning, angel,” you heard him say.
All you did was hum in response. Kissing the space between his wings, you unwound your arms from around him and moved to sit on the shelf next to where he was cooking. He handed you a mug swirling with some dark liquid.
“Your coffee, miss,” he said with a smile.
“Thank you,” you said gratefully.
Sipping your cup and swinging your legs while you sat on the counter watching Azriel work, a thought struck you.
“Hey, Az?” you called.
“Yes?” he replied, turning his attention to you.
“You said something this morning and I don’t know what you meant,” you said.
Azriel looked at you questioningly. “What did I say?”
“You said ‘I love you more than I love you’.”
Azriel raised his brows for a second, taking in the statement before he turned to you with an adoring gaze. He moved to stand in front of you, hands coming to hold yours. “It means that you’re the one I love most in this world yet somehow…I love you even more than that,” he explained. “That make sense?” he asked.
You looked into his eyes, feeling your heart soaring, your love for him growing even more if that was even possible. “Perfectly,” you muttered, kissing Azriel deeply until the smell of burning eggs pulled you apart.
Summary: idk what this is tbh but it’s fluffy and very very very adorable and ik you won’t be sorry!
warnings: none!
Azriel nuzzled his head into the curve of your neck, his warm breath sending a shiver down your spine. You tightened your arms around him, feeling the solid weight of him on top of you, grounding you in a way that felt both familiar and deeply comforting. As you pressed a soft kiss to his forehead, he let out a low hum of contentment, his fingers gliding gently along the length of your sides, tracing invisible patterns on your skin.
“Azzie?” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper. He shifted slightly as he replied with a soft murmur of curiosity.
“Do you feel loved?” you asked, your heart swelling with the vulnerability of the moment.
You felt the gentle curve of his smile against your skin as he answered, “Yes.” The warmth of his breath sent a thrill through you, and you brushed your lips against his cheek.
“Do you feel appreciated?” you continued, your fingers now caressing his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles ease under your touch.
He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the spot just below your ear, the intimacy of the gesture making you shiver. “Yes,” he replied, his voice a low murmur that vibrated through your body. He buried his nose against the length of your neck, inhaling deeply.
A light giggle escaped your lips as his breath tickled your skin, and you instinctively hugged him tighter, wanting to shield him from all the world’s chaos. “Do you feel happy?” you asked, your eyes sparkling with affection.
Azriel lifted his head to meet your gaze, his deep, shadowy eyes reflecting a mix of joy and contentment. “I do, my love. Where is this coming from?” he asked, curiosity in his expression.
You smiled warmly, your heart fluttering at his gaze. “Just making sure I’m doing my part right,” you replied shyly.
He grinned at you, his lips finding yours in a sweet kiss. When he pulled back, his expression was soft, almost reverent. “You’re doing your part more than perfectly.” He nudged his nose against yours in assurance.
Contentment settled within you, and you felt the weight of the world lifting, if only for a moment. “Do you feel safe?” you asked, your tone shifting slightly, the gravity of the question sinking in.
Azriel took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling against yours, and you could feel the tension seep away with his exhale. “There’s no place in the world that makes me feel safer,” he said, the sincerity in his voice wrapping around you like a warm embrace.
A wave of warmth flooded your chest at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile, feeling cherished and secure in this little sanctuary you had created together. “Good,” you whispered, running your fingers through his dark hair, each strand silky and soft under your touch. “Because I want you to always feel that way.”
He shifted slightly, propping himself up on one elbow to look deeply into your eyes, searching for sincerity. “You make that easy,” he replied earnestly.
summary: years ago you made a pact with Azriel that if the two of you were single in 20 years, you'd marry each other. As you two reflect on this promise years later, Azriel admits something that he has been hiding since that day.
warnings: none!
Azriel stood on the balcony of the House of Wind, his elbows resting on the railing as he gazed up at the stars. You could see the tightness in his shoulders, the way his posture was just a little too stiff. It was clear that he was in pain, his heart breaking in a way that made yours ache for him. You had no idea why, though. He had been upset the whole day and refused to speak with anyone.
You moved quietly to his side, mirroring his stance, and offered a gentle, “Hey.”
“Hey,” he replied, his voice soft but carrying a depth of sadness that cut through you.
Looking up at the night sky, you ventured, “Wanna tell me why you’re sad?”
Azriel inhaled deeply and after a couple of seconds spoke so softly you barely heard him. “What if I can’t find anyone? What if no one likes me?”
Furrowing your brows, you turned to him. “Why would you think that?” you asked.
Azriel shrugged, mumbling, “I don’t know,” while looking down at his hands. “Maybe I’ll always be too much of a weirdo for love,” he let out a hollow laugh.
“You’re not too much of a weirdo,” you said softly. “You’re just the right amount of weird, Az. I’m sure one of these days, someone will come along who will love you exactly as you are. They won’t try to change you or ask you to give more than you have, and they won’t give you for the world.”
Azriel gave a hollow laugh, the sound devoid of true humour. “It’s been five centuries. I can’t imagine a miracle happening now.”
Your heart twisted further at the weight of his words. The pain etched into his features and the hopelessness in his eyes were almost too much to bear. You took a deep breath and decided to offer a glimmer of light.
“Hey,” you said, trying to sound more upbeat, “if things don’t work out, we could always marry each other.”
He turned to you, a surprised smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “What?”
“I’m serious!” you insisted, trying to keep the mood light. “If, in 20 years, we’re both still single, let’s make a pact. We’ll marry each other.”
Azriel’s gaze was sceptical but intrigued. “Why would you want that?”
You took a moment to consider your answer, glancing up at the stars once more before meeting his eyes. “Well, we’ve been friends for over a century. We know each other well, and we get along great. We live in the same house, so there’s really nothing we don’t know about each other. And,” you added softly, “I care about you, Az.”
His eyes softened, and a warmth spread through his gaze as he looked at you. “I care about you, too, Y/n.”
A genuine smile broke across your face at his words. “So it’s settled, then! In 20 years, if we’re still single, we’ll marry each other.” You extended your hand toward him, hoping he would agree.
Azriel hesitated for a moment, a mixture of scepticism and amusement dancing across his features. Then he reached out, his hand clasping yours firmly. “Deal,” he said with a small, hopeful smile.
You squeezed his hand and gave him a reassuring look. “I won’t let you die alone, Shadowsinger,” you whispered. “You’re much too precious for that.”
At that moment, Azriel looked at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. He pulled you into a tight hug and you felt the tension leave his shoulders.
You chuckled softly as Liam animatedly recounted the stories from your date. When you reached your door, he gave you a wistful smile, the kind that suggested he wished the evening could last a bit longer.
“So is this where the night ends?” he asked, his tone betraying a hint of disappointment.
You mirrored his expression, nodding solemnly. “It’s not goodbye,” you ventured, a soft smile touching your lips. “We will see each other again.”
Liam’s face brightened slightly. He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, his lips warm and lingering for a brief moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow!” he called cheerfully as he turned and walked away, his steps echoing softly down the hallway.
Smiling, you winnowed inside the House of Wind, the familiar warmth of the house wrapping around you like a comforting embrace. The house was quiet, as expected. Cassian and Nesta had gone away for the weekend to a secluded cabin to celebrate their first anniversary, leaving just you and Azriel behind. You assumed Azriel had gone out too since he hadn’t mentioned any plans, and fatigue from your date was beginning to weigh on you.
As you made your way to your room, the muffled sounds of grunting and punching reached your ears. Curious and concerned, you realized that Azriel was on the rooftop training.
Deciding to check on him, you headed towards the roof. The cool, crisp night air hit your face as you stepped into the open training ring. The sight before you was striking: Azriel stood in the centre of the ring, his hands clenched into fists, his focus fixed intently on the punching bag. The bag swung with each of his forceful strikes, and his movements were charged with a pent-up intensity that made the air around him almost crackle.
You took a moment to admire Azriel, appreciating his physicality—the way his muscles flexed with each punch, the fluidity of his movements, the raw strength he exuded. Though nothing romantic had ever happened between the two of you, you couldn’t deny that Azriel was strikingly handsome. His sharp, defined features, and dark hair contrasting with his light eyes, paired with his impressive physique, made him undeniably captivating.
“Hey there,” he greeted, his voice carrying a smirk as he glanced over at you.
You felt a flush of warmth spread across your cheeks but tried to maintain a casual demeanour. Leaning against the doorframe, you crossed your arms over your chest. “So what did the poor punching bag do to you? You’re hitting it like it stole your bride.”
Azriel chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest. He hung his head slightly, shaking off the tension, and moved to the bench at the corner of the training area. He sank onto the bench, grabbing his water bottle with a sigh of relief. You followed and took a seat next to him.
“How’d the date go?” he asked, his voice a mix of casual curiosity and concern.
You sighed, staring at the starry night sky of Velaris. “It was okay,” you admitted, your voice carrying a note of resignation.
“Uh oh,” Azriel said, a teasing edge creeping into his tone. “Did he do something shitty? Did he say ‘pacifically’ instead of ‘specifically’?” he teased.
You laughed, shaking your head. “No, no, he was actually really nice. I just didn’t feel like he was right for me,” you said. “You know?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, nodding in understanding.
The two of you fell into a comfortable silence, gazing at the vast, twinkling expanse above. Your gaze eventually drifted to Azriel’s hands, and you noticed the bloodied and bruised knuckles, evidence of his intense training session.
“You’re bleeding,” you said, your voice gentle but laced with concern as you reached for his hand to inspect it up close. The sight of his battered knuckles tugged at your heart.
Azriel dismissed your concern with a casual wave. “It’s nothing. Just been at it for a while,” he said nonchalantly.
You frowned, disapproval evident in your eyes. Turning to his shadows, which had been hovering around you both, you whispered, “Can you bring me a first aid kit?” The shadows bobbed up and down as if nodding in agreement before darting out of the room.
Azriel looked at you and his shadows with surprise. “Since when do they listen to you?” he asked, his astonishment clear.
“They always have,” you replied with a shrug. “You didn’t know?”
He shook his head, clearly amazed.
The shadows soon returned, depositing a rectangular box in your lap. You opened it, retrieved the alcohol and cotton pads, and set the kit aside. Gently, you resumed tending to Azriel’s wounds, dabbing the alcohol-soaked cotton on his knuckles, slowly and carefully cleaning away the blood. As you worked, Azriel’s eyes remained fixed on your face—observing your concentration, the kindness in your eyes, and the tenderness of your touch.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.
You looked up, offering him a soft smile. “It’s no problem,” you replied.
A comfortable silence settled between you, the only sound the rustling of the night wind and the occasional hum of the city below. You continued to work on his hands, your fingers brushing against his skin with a soothing touch, while Azriel turned his gaze back to the sky.
After a few moments, he spoke again, his voice reflective. “Do you remember 20 years ago when we were standing right over there?” He gestured toward the railing. “And we made that promise to each other—that if we were both single in 20 years, we’d marry each other?” His smile was wistful, a touch of nostalgia in his eyes.
You turned to look at the spot he indicated, your smile mirroring his. “Yeah,” you whispered. “Crazy how fast time flies.”
You finished cleaning his hands but didn’t let go. Instead, you held his hand gently between your own, your fingers tracing the lines of his scars with a delicate touch.
“So are you still down for it?” Azriel asked, his eyes softened by an earnest hope.
You were taken aback by the question but managed a soft smile. “Yeah, I am.”
Azriel sighed in relief, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “Because, truth be told, Y/n, I’ve been yours since the day we made that promise,” he confessed, his gaze unwavering as he looked deeply into your eyes.
Your breath caught in your throat, and you stared at him, stunned. “What?” you whispered, barely able to comprehend his words.
“It’s true,” he continued quietly. “I’ve avoided every long-term relationship with the hope that one day, we’d end up together, Y/n.”
For a moment, you were at a loss for words, your mind reeling. Then, with a shaky breath, you replied, “Well, if only you had said that 20 years ago, we could have been celebrating our 20th anniversary today.”
Azriel chuckled softly, his head hanging in a sheepish gesture. “Forgive me, my dear. I’m not the best at expressing my feelings.”
“No, you are not,” you agreed with a light laugh. “But I’d be happy to teach you,” you said softly, your voice filled with warmth.
“And there is no one else I’d rather learn from,” Azriel whispered before leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss that was both tender and fervent, a culmination of all the years of unspoken feelings and promises.
You and Azriel lay on the couch in the living room of House of Wind. Azriel had returned from a long mission the night before and had passed out as soon as he was out of the shower. Because of that, the two of you didn't get the chance to talk or hold each other, so you were making up for that now.
Azriel's hand trailed your side, drawing mindless patterns on your hip while you held his other hand, resting your joined fingers on your stomach.
"So that was my mission," he ended with a sigh. You tsked at the exhaustion still in his voice and brought his hand up to your lips.
Azriel cupped your jaw, tilting your head up and kissed your lips. A blush creeped up your neck and you smiled widely at Azriel before returning to your initial position.
"How was your week?" Azriel asked, hand slowly moving to the hem of your shirt and sliding in to rest on your bare waist. You shivered slightly at the warmth of his fingers meeting your cold skin. Azriel brought his wings to wrap around you, enveloping you in warmth you had missed terribly while he was gone.
"Same old," you replied. "Paperwork, more research, long hours."
Azriel hummed. You turned on your side, cuddling into his warm chest and wrapped your arms around his waist.
"And I missed you," you added.
Azriel brought his arms around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his chest. He firmly kissed the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair, and muttered "missed you, too."
"Oh, Mor and I went to Rita's the other night," you piped up. "To drink and dance and let loose after a whole annoying week of work."
Azriel smiled. "You have fun?"
"Yeah! Until this random guy showed up and ruined our night," you rolled your eyes.
Azriel's shoulders shook as he chuckled. "What'd he do?"
"He was hitting on me! Ugh! The audacity!" you huffed. "I told him I wasn't interested and I have a very pretty mate waiting for me at home."
"Pretty?" Azriel grinned. "You think I'm pretty?" he asked.
"Yes!" you affirmed, readjusting your grip on his waist and pulling yourself even closer. "You're my pretty boy." You kissed his chest.
Azriel exhaled as if offended. "Pretty boy?" he asked in confusion.
You turned your head to look up at him. "Yes," you said. "You're pretty and you're a boy," you shrugged and smiled.
Azriel gaped at you, huffing. "I am not a boy. I am a full-grown male!" he exclaimed.
You smiled with endearment, leaning up to kiss his nose. "You're so adorable!" you said and kissed his nose again. He scrunched his nose but didn't move away.
"My pretty boy," you kissed his lips once before going back to resting your head on his chest.
Azriel pretended to be offended by the term of endearment but secretly, he loved being your pretty boy.
