I Got Teary Eyed While Reading This. Azriel Deserves This And So Much More.

I got teary eyed while reading this. Azriel deserves this and so much more.

He Feels Safe With You — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel's sleeping habits begin to worry you, but after a conversation with Cassian, you realize you've misinterpreted the entire situation.

Warnings: Major fluff. Like tooth-rotting sweetness. Sleepy Az.

Author's note: I should be sleeping because I have work tomorrow but instead I've chosen to write this oneshot and I have no regrets.

It was starting to become a problem now. 

You cocked your head to the side, cradling a cup of tea in your hands and watching Azriel as he continued to sleep soundly in your bed. You had the windows cracked open and the early Autumn breeze swirled indoors with the scent of lavender, bergamot, and the strawberry jam you’d slathered over your toast. You checked the time once again on the glossy marble clock face. The arrow-shaped hour hand clicked ever closer to 11am, the minute hand close to overtaking its competitor. 

10:55am and Azriel was still asleep. 

The sheets clustered loose and low around his waist, mimicking the curling of his shadows up and down the ridges of his spine and across the delicate membrane of his wings. His wings hung loose and relaxed, stretching off the edges of your bed and caressing the floor with a lover’s touch. You blushed at the sight. When you and Azriel had first started courting each other three years ago, you’d thought through the mechanics of housing an Illyrian warrior in your bed — should you buy a new bed frame and mattress? Did you even have space for it in your apartment? The answer had been no to both, and yet Azriel loved when your daytime activities ended here instead of at the townhouse. If he cared about having to walk sideways to avoid the bookshelves in the halls or having to crouch to avoid the overhang above the staircase, he didn’t mention it. 

Three hours ago you’d woken up beneath the gentle weight of his wings, untangled yourself from Azriel’s greedy limbs, and crept down the stairs to your kitchen, bleary eyed but well rested. But that was three hours ago! Since then you’d brushed your teeth, washed your face, and eaten breakfast, and still the Shadowsinger hadn’t stirred. You were beginning to question whether he truly was the Spymaster of the Night Court as you sat in your velvet chair and admired your lover. You traced all the subtle movements of his body as he muddled through dreams you could only wonder at — the creasing of his brow, the slack line of his lips as he breathed, the twitching of his fingertips as he reached for some phantom object. 

The clock struck eleven and you sighed, gathering your plates but leaving Azriel’s pile of toast, butter, and honey alone. You also left the teapot and its mismatched cup, blowing magic over its lid in a silent command to keep its contents hot until Azriel awoke. 

“I’ll be down in the shop,” you whispered to his shadows, trusting that they would relay the message when their master finally decided to grace the daytime with his presence. 

One by one, shadows slipped off Azriel’s skin, curling around your ankles and wrists in a silent plea to stay. You shook them off like one might a needy child, promising you’d only be two floors down. 

The artists’ corner in Velaris was an eclectic array of compact townhouses, each outwardly dressed in their unique, dazzling finery. Your townhouse was squished between a painting studio and a luthier’s. The painting studio’s owner seemed intent on changing the color of the wooden sidings every other day and the drawings scribbled over the windows every other week. Today it was periwinkle blue to match the hydrangeas overflowing from the window boxes. 

You nodded in approval as you flipped the apothecary sign over from “Much apologies, please try another time” to “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” The blue would match your tulip yellow sidings and the clean white accents of the luthier’s. Last week it had been red and that had looked gods-awful. 

You busied yourself in the shop, crushing up lavender and herbs and boiling mugwort in fire-stained glassware in between flurries of customers until the medicinal stench in the air grew thick and strong. You were used to it by now. It smelled clean. Like home. 

You were finishing tying up a bundle of teabags when Cassian came in carrying a sturdy wooden box under one arm like it weighed five pounds instead of fifty. You snapped out the wrinkles of a cloth bag, dropping the teabags and five vials of sleep serum for the nightingale-winged nymph in front of you. 

“Four feathers and three strands of hair, as we bargained for,” you said, sliding the bag across the counter. 

The nymph nodded in approval, extending out a wing and shoving her fingers into the pillowy softness. She tested for loose feathers ready to pull.

“You’re a godsend, Y/n, has anyone ever told you that?” She pulled out three feathers, closed her wing, and started testing the feathers on the other side. “Finnigan’s was asking me for ten. Ten! Can you believe that? If I hadn’t found you in time I’d have been reduced to a plucked chicken.” She was much less precious about her mousey brown hair and yanked out three strands at random. “Oops, you get an extra strand today,” she sang, dropping the feathers and hair into the jars you held out. 

“Well it’s a good thing you found me then, Moricka.” 

“Honestly! I understand he’s got a large studio space he’s renting in the thick of the Palace, and even I will admit the ambiance is rather professional—” 

Cassian raised his brow, a smirk tugging at the corners of his scarred lips as he continued to stand motionless in the doorway. It was true your space was more… homey than Finnigan’s, but your expertise shined in intimate spaces. You liked the control and the familiarity that came from running a smaller business and you wouldn’t give it up for the world. 

“But I do think the success is getting to his head. You both studied under Lady Madja so I don’t see why—” 

You nodded absentmindedly. It was always like this with Moricka. The songbird in her made it difficult for her to stop talking, but at least her voice was pleasant. 

She threw her hands up in the air before finally catching wind of another presence in the room. Cassian waved at her with a wink and an orange blush creeped onto her full cheeks. He tended to have that effect on fae with his towering size and the wild beauty of his chiseled jaw and smattering of scars over his cheeks and brow. 

“Oh… oh dear, I didn’t realize you had another customer. Oh my goodness I’ve been talking your ear off all this time and you’ve been too kind to say anything. You’re a godsend, Y/n. A godsend! I don’t know what I would do without you, although I should really be letting you go now.” She grabbed her things and sidestepped the range of Cassian’s wings, trying and failing now to gawk. “I’ll see you soon enough again I’m sure.” 

“I’ll be here.” You sighed in relief when the doorbell rang behind her petite frame, the inoffensive smile you offered all your customers sliding off your face like oil on water. Cassian chuckled, dropping the box onto the countertop with a dull thud. 

“Long day?” 

You pulled out a stepstool and began rummaging around through the box, pulling out jars of squid ink, bark trimmings, buttons, and one particularly nasty jar containing a large eye suspended in yellow goo. “It’s not even three.” 

“Did I stutter?”

You tapped the glass and the eye swiveled around to look at you, pupil enlarging and constricting with a stutter. “Yes, yes very good,” you muttered your praise and Cassian fought hard not to shiver. He had a stomach for a great many things, but some of the specimens you handled tested his resilience.

“Thank you for bringing all of this. You’ve saved me a great deal of trouble.” 

“Perhaps you could do the same for me and tell me where my brother is? I’ve been looking for him all day.” Cassian leaned forward on the counter, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Are you holding him hostage, Y/n? Are you using your feminine powers to bring the poor male to his knees? I must admit, I didn’t imagine you as the kind capable of kidnapping. Or shadow-napping, shall we say?”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m hardly holding him hostage.” You gestured down the hallway past the bookshelves and the cases of empty glassware where the light from the staircase glowed like an iron eye. “He’s upstairs sleeping.” 

Cassian furrowed his brows, stepping around and past you. He kept his wings tucked closer to his shoulder blades, careful not to upset the cramped organization you maintained in your shop. 

He smirked. “Still? Are you sure you didn't work your feminine powers last night?” 

You glanced out the store window. A few fae lingered outside the coffee shop across the street clutching takeaway boxes against their chest as they chatted and sipped their drinks. The street was otherwise empty. For now, you wouldn’t have to deal with any customers. 

You looked back at Cassian. “I actually wanted to ask you about that.”

His brows furrowed. “About feminine powers?” He'd meant that as a joke.

“Gods, Cassian let that go.” You wrung your hands. “I wanted to ask if Azriel was alright? Has he seemed… normal to you?”

“I don’t know, has he?” Cassian lowered his voice, sinking into one of the stools by the clear glass medicine cabinet. “From what I can tell he seems well. Happy.” 

Although happy was an understatement. Ever since you’d stumbled into their lives with Madja’s accolades and your wry humor, Azriel had been a goner. You’d pulled emotions from him as deftly as a spinster with a pile of wool, reduced him to a reverential, lovesick mess, and imbued his existence with a color not even Feyre could mix up. Which made it all the more confusing why you looked so nervous.

“You’ve seen more of him than I have, Y/n.” Cassian said. He braced his elbows against his knees, turning serious. The faint bags under his hazel eyes hinted at sleepless nights spent fussing over Neera. It was their fault really, any daughter of Nesta and Cassian was destined to be restless and particular.

“He just… he’s been sleeping more. Falling into bed early, but waking up late. Sometimes we’ll be reading together or just existing side by side and when I turn to face him, he’s dead asleep on the couch.” 

Cassian’s lips twitched, slowly stretching into a smile. You plucked a hemp bag off one of the wall shelves at random, tossing its contents into a mortar and beginning to grind just so you could have something to do with your hands. 

“At first I brushed it off, but it’s gotten to a point where I’ll be talking to him — mindless things, but regardless — and I’ll catch him dozing off. He’s always very apologetic after but I…” The mortar and pestle clattered to a stop. “I worry that he’s growing bored of me. Or that he’s sick in a way I can’t help.” 

“Y/n.” There was a smile in Cassian’s voice, and indeed when you looked at him, his teeth were glistening in the soft afternoon haze. His eyes shined knowingly, as if the answer were obvious.

You paused. “Yes?”

“He feels safe with you.” 

You blinked once. Twice. 

“Pardon?” 

Cassian tipped back in his seat, knocking his head against the cabinet with a rattle of jars and glass as he laughed. “He’s sleeping so much because he feels safe with you. It’s probably why he prefers to spend time here instead of at the townhouse and why he’s still dead asleep while we’re sitting here gossiping about him. Three years ago you couldn’t even whisper his name in a crowded room without him appearing from the shadows as if summoned.” 

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. “Oh... I see.” 

Cassian was grinning. “Y/n, I promise you he’s not bored of you. Azriel sleeping is a good thing. The gods know he could use more rest. I think he might be the worst of us when it comes to taking care of ourselves.” 

Something about Cassian’s words had a crack splintering in your chest. You knew about his past. You knew of the horrors burned into the ruined skin of his hands and the weight his duties deposited on his shoulders.

And here you’d been worried over him sleeping past noon. 

Shadows slipped down the stairs, pooling around your feet in a neat circle and kissing the exposed skin of your ankles. Azriel followed closely behind, still wearing his rumpled hair and pants and a shirt he’d hastily shoved his neck and arms into. He hadn’t even buttoned up the slits below his wings, opting to let the fabric swing free and loose and expose flashes of skin as he walked. 

He jutted his chin out in acknowledgement of Cassian and then folded himself over your back, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist and dropping his face into the crook of your neck where he breathed in the scent of lemon and lavender and medicine. 

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” he said, frowning. There was a slur to his words.

“It’s past three, brother.” 

Azriel snapped his head up in surprise, squinting at the window and the afternoon sunlight streaking in. The pale cobblestones shone like they’d been drenched in honey. 

“What?” 

Cassian rolled his eyes, patting Azriel’s back fondly and mussing up your hair before walking towards the door. He flipped the sign from “You’ve caught us! We’re open!” to “Much apologies, please try another time.” 

“Goodnight, you two!" He called from over his back. "Remember we’re meeting at Rhys’s for dinner tonight.” He turned, bracing his arms against the top of the doorway and leaning forward like he meant to share a secret. “8pm sharp. Don’t be too late or we’ll get the wrong idea about what you two are up to.” He winked, then whistled down the street, letting the door close on its own behind him. 

Azriel sighed, going back to nuzzling his face in your neck. He peppered the sensitive skin there with kisses. 

“Will you be coming back upstairs then?” He murmured hopefully. "Now that you're finished with work?"

You bit your lip and decided rather quickly that the world would not end because you closed a few hours early. 

You led him up the stairs, past the kitchen and living room on the second floor, and then up to the third floor — your bedroom. The window was still open, the hustle and bustle of the city and the smell of coffee from across the street wafting in. Steam no longer poured from the lip of the teapot, so you knew Azriel had had something to drink, and where you’d left toast on his plate this morning lay only crumbs. 

Azriel dropped to his knees, untying your laces and helping you out of your boots. Then he straightened and tugged at the belt loops of your trousers, silently asking for permission before unbuttoning them and sliding them off your legs. Your shirt, then his shirt, and then his trousers joined the pile of crumpled clothing on the floor.

He gently pushed you back onto the bed, falling face first after you with a sigh. This was his favorite position to sleep in — you comfortable on your back and him laying with his hips slotted in between your legs and his head resting over your heart. 

You sank your fingers into his velvety, black hair. His hums of satisfaction flowed through your body, lighting every nerve with a comforting buzz. 

“Azriel?” You asked him, before sleep could finally claim him once more. 

“Hmmm?” 

“Do you feel safe with me?” 

He pressed his face further into the soft flesh of your chest, bringing his arms up and around your waist before allowing his wings to do the same. The thin membranes glowed red as hot coals, blocking out the most offensive rays of light from outside. 

“When I am with you, I forget that I was ever that boy whose hands got burned. When I am with you, the hundreds of years I spent feeling alone and worthless in this world melt away into nothing. When I am with you — when I am in this place that smells and feels so strongly of you — I can imagine a future that is good and pure and perfect.” He sighed deeply, seemingly ignorant to the pounding of your heart and the waves of feeling flooding your system. “So yes, my love — my Y/n — I do feel safe with you.”

“I feel safe with you too,” you murmured. “I love you, Azriel.” 

You kissed the crown of his head, earning one last smile and a slurred, “I love you, Y/n,” before his jaw went slack and the room went silent save for the mixing of your breaths and the stirring of shadows.

Crush | Azriel x reader [Masterlist]

Oneshot-Series: Every part of this story can be read separately.

Summary: When a big bad Illyrian warrior falls head over heels in love with a sweet baker lady from Velaris.

A/N: I love this story so much you guys, it's literally all fluff and I'm channeling all my impossibly high standards into this to cope with the disappointment that are real-life men.

Feel free to drop a request if you have any scenarios in mind that you feel would make a good addition to the story and lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!

Warnings: all the fluff, somewhere along the lines of grumpy x sunshine, some SMUT (*)

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Just a Little Crush - Everyone secretly longs for Azriel, but Azriel only longs for her.

Every Time We Touch* - Azriel gets with his crush, the lucky bastard.

Body and Soul - Azriel and his love spend some time discovering each other’s stories and bodies.

Apple Pies and Family Ties - Azriel brings a girl home to meet his family for the first time ever.

Flour Prints* - The recreation of Feysand’s infamous paint scene followed by an important step in their relationship.

A Matter of Firsts - Azriel and his love get into their first fight.

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last updated: July 2024

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More moodboards made by my sweet @itsswritten ❤️

Little Y/N coloring on her uncle Reggie and uncle Barty's dark marks, doodling over it and eventually they got her doodles tattooed to cover the dark mark :')

STOP THIS IS SO CUTE I ABSOLUTELY HAD TO WRITE THIS😭

LITTLE ARTIST

Wolfstar!daughter x Regulus Black & Barty Crouch Jr (obviously platonic)

Wolfstar x daughter!Reader

WARNINGS: nothing, just fluff, FEM!R, use of petnames but no use of Y/n, this is more of a story between Wolfstar!daughter and her Slytherin uncles i'm sorry, slightly sad Regulus but his beloved niece is the light of his eyes.

English is not my first language so feel free to correct me.

It was another one of the usual days where Regulus and Barty were babysitting you, while Remus and Sirius went out with James and Peter for a Marauders reunion.

At that precise moment Barty was lying on the sofa, with an arm over his eyes, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and his snores echoing throughout the living room. And even if that constant sound annoyed Regulus quite a bit, it didn't even matter to you since you were too busy listening to the words of your uncle, who was reading a book aloud to you while sitting on the carpet with you in the middle of his legs.

"So the brave prince took his sword and shield and, having mounted his horse, he went to the castle where the princess-"

"Uncle Reggie?"

Regulus froze when you called his name and lowered his head to look at you. You tilted your head back against his chest and looked up at him with your big, bright eyes.

"Yes, chérie?" he asked with a smile.

"Can i ask you something?"

Regulus nodded without hesitation.

"What is it?"

"Do you have any tattoos?"

Regulus frowned slightly, not understanding where that sudden question came from.

"No, i don't. Why do you ask?"

You moved between his legs to change position and Regulus closed the book and placed it on the floor to make more room for you, so you sat turned towards him to look at him better.

"Daddy has a lot of tattoos on his arms, his legs, his stomach and even his back" you said then and Regulus nodded, knowing his brother's tattoos well. "Dad has some too, but not as many as Daddy"

You continued to rock back and forth on his legs and with one hand you pointed to Barty sleeping on the couch.

"And uncle Barty has some too"

Regulus turned to look at Barty, knowing you were talking about the tattoos on his arms, the backs of his hands, and his fingers. Unlike Sirius, he even had one on his neck, which he personally didn't like, but it was very Barty style and suited him.

"But…" you shyly said and Regulus looked back at you. "But uncle Barty said that you and him have the same tattoo. Can i see it??"

Regulus felt his heart skip a beat when he heard those words and his body tensed, but you didn't notice. He remained silent for a few seconds, thinking about what to say to you and you continued to look at him patiently, waiting for his response.

Barty had told you about the Death Eater mark. Oh, how could he have been so stupid?! Neither Regulus nor your parents wanted to introduce you to the world of dark magic, your innocence needed to be preserved for as long as possible. And both your parents and Regulus knew what you were like: if you found out why Regulus and Barty had the Dark Mark you would be worried sick about them and they didn't want to scare you.

"I don't think you'd like it" your uncle murmured, trying not to say too much.

"Why?" you asked back, tilting your head to the side. "Is it ugly?"

Yes, it's hideous. And it burns on my skin like a hot iron. If only i had the courage i would cut it off with a knife.

"No" Regulus shook his head. "I just don't like it anymore"

After he and Barty found the courage to leave the Death Eaters, Regulus obviously regretted letting them mark his skin with that horrible figure. But years had passed and now he hardly thought about it anymore. But he never truly forgot.

"I'm sure it looks nice" you replied, flashing him an innocent smile. "Come on uncle Reggie, can i see it?? Please!"

"Chérie..."

"Just this once uncle Reggie, i swear. Pleaseee"

Regulus looked into your eyes intently, deciding what to do. He saw you making sweet eyes at him, with your hands clasped in prayer and he knew that it was now impossible to refuse your request.

So, with a sigh and his heart pounding with anxiety, he stretched his arm forward and then lifted the sleeve of his shirt, showing you the mark on his arm.

You opened your eyes wide and paused to look at the skull and the snake weaving beneath it that were tattooed on his arm, the black ink contrasting sharply with his pale skin.

Regulus looked at you silently, fearing your reaction. Not that you had any idea what that mark was, but he was still worried.

"Oooh" you murmured, then lifting your head towards Regulus. “So uncle Barty has this tattoo too?”

Regulus nodded slowly, trying to smile at you. "He has it on his arm too. Like me"

"Why a skull and a snake?"

"Because we like skulls and snakes"

"Did it hurt when you did it?"

Yes.

"No, sweetheart"

"And why did you get the same tattoo?"

Regulus looked at you tilting hid head with a small smirk.

"You are much more curious than usual today, aren't you?" he said and you giggled sheepishly.

Then he let out another sigh and he looked down at your little feet, his smile falling to make room for a sadder expression.

"We got it when we were younger. We were too stupid and now we regret it"

He wasn't going to explain that he and Barty had been part of a group of murderous dark wizards, but that was the gist of it.

"Don't say that! You and uncle Barty are not stupid!" you immediately retorted and Regulus looked back at you with an amused smile.

"Chérie, you can't understand" he tried to say, but you shook your head stubbornly and looked into his eyes intensely.

"I don't care. Just because you got a tattoo you don't like anymore doesn't mean you're stupid. So don't say that anymore, uncle Reggie. Okay?"

Regulus looked at you with a soft look and after a few seconds he nodded in surrender, knowing that it was impossible to argue with you. You had taken on all of Sirius' stubbornness and it showed.

Then a loud yawn rang through the living room and you and Regulus turned to Barty, who was slowly sitting up on the couch.

"What are you two talking about?" he muttered, stretching his arms upwards to stretch awkwardly.

You jumped up to run to him.

"Uncle Barty, uncle Barty, can i see your tattoo??” you asked frantically.

Junior fixed his hair with one hand, letting out another yawn. "Haven't i already shown you my tattoos a thousand times, little viper?"

You climbed up next to him on the couch and held onto his shoulder, shaking him slightly. "No, i mean the one with the skull and the snake. The one you and uncle Reggie have on your arms!"

Barty glanced at Regulus, who looked back silently then looked at the book he had left on the carpet. They would've talked about it later.

But unlike Regulus, Barty had no problem lifting the sleeve of his sweatshirt and showing you the mark on his skin that was identical to Regulus'. You stopped to look at him, with your hands resting on his thin arm and running your finger over the black lines.

"It's ugly, right?" Barty asked and you lifted your head towards him. "Does it scare you?"

But you shook your head.

"Why would it scare me?" you asked him, confused by his words.

Your father always bragged about all the tattoos that decorated his body. Why did Barty and Regulus seem to hate that tattoo instead?

But then an idea came to your mind.

"Oh, now i understand!" you suddenly exclaimed, making the two men jump.

You got off the couch and ran out of the living room, under the confused gaze of your uncles. A few seconds later you returned to the living room holding your trusted pack of colored markers that Lily had given you and that you were very fond of.

You returned to kneel next to Barty, who still had his arm exposed and you took out a red marker, then removed the cap. But before you could touch his skin with the tip, Barty stopped your hand.

"Hey hey hey what do you think you're doing with that, little viper?" he asked skeptically.

You smiled at him. "I want to color your tattoo, uncle Barty"

"And why is that...?"

"Because it'll become more pretty this way. So you and uncle Reggie can't say it's ugly anymore"

Barty frowned, while Regulus' eyes opened slightly in surprise. You shook Barty's arm again.

"Uncle Barty, can i color your tattoo, please?" you asked him.

Junior let out a sigh but then smirked and extended his arm towards you, resting it on your lap. "Give vent to your artistic streak, baby"

You smiled happily and wasted no time coloring his tattoo, under the watchful gaze of him and Regulus. Then you took another color and began to draw other shapes over and around his one.

"What are you drawing sweetheart?" Regulus asked you, looking at you from the carpet.

"I'm doing some butterflies and flowers" you replied in a focused tone, not looking up from Barty’s arm.

"I don't like butterflies" said the latter. "They're stupid"

You lifted your head to look at him and Regulus glared at him.

"They're not stupid" you replied calmly, not offended by his words, as you were used to Barty's language. "They are pretty and colourful"

"Nah. Better spiders and scorpions"

"Ew. I don't like spiders" you said with a grimace of disgust, then went back to work.

Barty chuckled, but made no move to stop you from continuing your job. He didn't like butterflies, but he would have had his entire body filled with stupid colorful butterflies if you had just asked him. Compared to Regulus, he was rougher and even a bit weirder, but Junior was just as protective as Regulus and would've done anything for you. Anything.

After a few minutes you were done and after putting the cap back on the marker, you took Barty's wrist and lifted his arm, showing it to Regulus.

"Ta-da! Do you like it?"

"It's beautiful darling" Regulus said with a tender smile.

"You're a real artist my little viper" Barty continued, ruffling your hair and making you smile proudly. "I can't wait to show everyone this masterpiece"

You got off the couch and walked back to Regulus, clutching the box of markers in your hands.

"Uncle Reggie, can i color your tattoo too?" you asked, rocking on your heels. "Maybe you'll like it more with some colors"

Regulus smiled as his heart swelled: he loved your sweetness and your innocence and he knew that despite the age gap that separated you, he could always feel safe with you, because you never judged him. You still couldn't realize it, but since Remus and Sirius had taken you in, you had become not only his beloved niece, but also Regulus's safe place.

"Of course chérie" Regulus nodded, rolling up again the sleeve of his marked arm.

You wasted no time in sitting between his crossed legs again and brought his arm into your lap, picking up a marker and starting to color. Regulus admired you coloring his mark, not caring that you were going outside the edges and then you started drawing something else, like you had done with Barty. But on Regulus' skin, instead of butterflies and colorful flowers, you had chosen to draw the moon, the sun and planets surrounded by many stars.

Regulus almost felt his eyes watering but managed to hold back the tears, especially since Barty was still there. So he limited himself to giving you a small kiss on the head, leaving his lips pressed to your hair for a few seconds, while you continued with your work, humming a melody invented on the moment. 

A few days later, Regulus and Barty came to visit Sirius and Remus and you and stayed for dinner (even though your parents would have preferred just Regulus to be there, but obviously they're joking).

"Come here sweetheart" Regulus called to you, inviting you to come closer with a wave of his hand. "I want to show you something"

You immediately got off Sirius' lap to go over to him and Barty, who were sitting on the other sofa, curious as ever.

Regulus lifted his sleeve, revealing his Dark Mark and you let out a gasp. Remus and Sirius frowned at the other two men, not too happy that you were aware of the mark, even if you didn't know the dark truth behind it. But before they could say anything in protest, they also noticed with shock what was on Regulus' arm.

You raised your head to look at your uncle with wide eyes. "Is this my drawing??"

Regulus nodded with a smile and you immediately rubbed your hand up and down his arm and your mouth fell open as you realized that the drawings of planets you had made on his skin weren't going away.

You didn't remember it precisely but Regulus did, and every single detail of the drawings you had done on him a few days before had been tattooed on his skin.

"It's a new tattoo, baby" Barty continued, noticing your confused eyes. "Look"

He lifted his sleeve, showing his mark and to your amazement you and your parents saw that his arm was full of colorful butterflies and flowers.

"I'm not understanding..." Remus murmured in confusion, alternating his gaze from Regulus to Barty.

"There is nothing difficult to understand, Lupin" Junior retorted. " My little viper here improved our tattoos because we didn't like them. This design suits my style much more, don't you think?"

"I love them!" you exclaimed with a toothy grin, bouncing in place. "I'm happy you like them more now!"

Regulus chuckled at your enthusiasm and leaned over to give you a hug, which you immediately returned. "It was thanks to you, chérie"

"Next time i want to get a new tattoo i'll ask you again, baby" Barty said looking at you with a smirk and you nodded frantically.

"Sure!"

Both Sirius and Remus stood up to take a closer look at what the other two had gotten tattooed. And they had to admit that both you and the tattoo artist had done a great job. The mark was hardly visible under all those drawings that came from your imagination.

"Reggie..." Sirius murmured then, catching his brother's attention. But Regulus gave him a smile when he saw his slightly sad look.

"Don't worry, Sirius. I'm fine" he said softly, not wanting you to know what they were talking about. "Thanks to what she did now i know that i can leave it all behind and forget"

Both Black brothers watched you admire the flowers decorating Barty's arm with a proud smile, along with Remus.

"I thought you hated butterflies, Barty" he said with an arrogant smirk equal to the tone Junior had used with him earlier.

"Shut your mouth Lupin. You cannot understand the meaning of this work of art"

Sirius placed a hand on Regulus' shoulder and squeezed it in comfort, before walking up behind you and lifting you into his arms, making you squeal in surprise.

"Ahh i can't believe my daughter did a tattoo for her uncles, especially for Barty?? Before your own dad?? This is not fair!" Sirius exclaimed dramatically, spinning in circles and making you laugh while Junior rolled his eyes.

When he stopped he looked intently into your eyes, nuzzling his nose against your soft cheek. "We need to fix this right away, young lady. You'll design a tattoo for me too now, right?"

And you nodded without hesitation.

"I'd love to, daddy!"

marauders x y/n incorrect quotes

making these funny is my forte

feat. james, sirius, remus, barty (jr), reggie, lily, marlene

—

y/n: You know, remus gives sirius flowers everyday, I wish you'd do that too.  james: Okay.  *Later*  james: *gives sirius flowers*  sirius: ???  james: I don't know, I'm confused as well.

y/n, pointing to james and remus: Distract them! I'll be right back! *leaves*  sirius: Okay!  *five minutes later*  y/n: *returns and sees james and remus unconscious on the ground* What did you do? I said distract them, not knock them out!  sirius: There's just no pleasing you sometimes.

remus: Why do you look like that?  y/n, laying face-first on the floor: Like what?  remus: Like you’re dead.  y/n: It’s because I’m dying. Leave me here to perish.  sirius: y/n accidentally called james “babe” in front of everyone today.  y/n: *sobs into the floor*

remus: Time sensitive question how flirt boy.  y/n: Throw rocks at he.  james: Hot Dogs.  sirius: Kill him.  remus: Thanks guys.

james: Why is y/n crying on the floor?  remus: She took one of those 'what person are you?' quizzes.  james: And?  remus: She got sirius.

y/n: This food is too hot... I cant eat it.  near full moon!remus: You’re very hot, and I still eat you.  Everyone at the table: *silence*  james: YOU GUYS ARE DISGUSTING!  sirius: One dinner... I just want ONE DINNER!

remus: Subs are so fun to play with. All you have to do is hint at what you might do, back them into a corner with a look, or grab their wrist in a certain way and they're a wide-eyed mess.  y/n: What the fuck kind of Subway are you going to?  james: Substitute teachers deal with so much shit.  sirius: Guys.

remus: What do you three have to say for yourself?  y/n: sirius: james: Oops?

remus: james... How do I begin to explain james?  y/n: james is flawless.  sirius: I hear his hair's insured for $10,000.  barty: I hear he does car commercials... in Japan.  regulus: One time he punched me in the face... it was awesome.

remus: Croissants: dropped  james: Road: works ahead  y/n: BBQ sauce: on my titties  sirius: Shavacado: fre  barty: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead  regulus:  regulus, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

'Can I copy the homework?'  remus: I can help you with it!  james: Yeah, sure.  y/n: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.  sirius: lol nope.  barty: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!  regulus: *Read 5:55pm*

remus: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?  james: >:O language  y/n: Yeah watch your fucking language  sirius: OKAY WHO TAUGHT Y/N THE FUCK WORD?  barty: 'The fuck word'.  regulus: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time  y/n: Oh my god he censored it  barty: Say fuck, regulus.  y/n: Do it, regulus. Say fuck.

remus: If you got arrested what would be the charges? james: Theft. y/n: Disturbing the peace. sirius: Aggravated assault. regulus: Arson. barty: All of the above.In that order, probably.

y/n: Why are sirius and james sitting with their backs to each other? remus: They had a fight. y/n: Then why are they holding hands? remus: They get sad when they fight.

remus: You are now one day closer to eating your next plate of nachos. y/n: That's the most hopeful thing I've ever heard. sirius: But what if I die tomorrow and never eat any nachos? james: Then tomorrow is nacho lucky day.

y/n: Is stabbing someone immoral? sirius: Not if they consent to it. james: Depends who you’re stabbing. remus: YES?!?

sirius: You lying, cheating, piece of shit! y/n: Oh yeah? You’re the idiot who thinks you can get away with everything you do. WELCOME TO THE REAL WORLD sirius: I’m leaving you, and I’M TAKING REMUS WITH ME james, picking up the monopoly board: I think we’re gonna stop playing now.

Cop: You’re receiving a ticket for having three people on one motorcycle. sirius: Shit. remus: Wait, three? Cop: Yeah? y/n: OH MY GOD JAMES FELL OFF!!!

remus, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.  sirius: Hey.  james: Hi.  y/n: Hello.  lily: Hey!  remus: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!  marlene: We were out of Doritos.

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*  remus: Thanks fam!  sirius: oh no  james: *cries* I love you too  marlene: Sounds fake but okay  y/n: *A flustered mess*  lily: can i get a refund

y/n: I think we're missing something.  james: Teamwork?  sirius : Cohesion?  remus: A general sense of what we’re doing?

james: *Screams* sirius: *Screams louder to establish dominance* remus : Should we do something? y/n: No, I want to see who wins.

y/n: james, I'm sad. james: *Holds out arms for a hug* It’s going to be okay. sirius : remus, I'm sad. remus, nodding: mood.

Seeing a lot of talks about finnick as a dad/doting husband during pregnancy on the fyp and I must contribute to the conversation 🌱 (warnings: it's long and so fluffy you're gonna die). Part 1.

Part 2 ☁︎

The thing about Finnick is that he has a lot of love to give to anyone who would take it. His heart is overflowing with it, shining cerulean with it. So of course fatherhood came to him as easily as breathing—

Wrong. Have you seen that walking talking ball of anxiety, love and autism?

The day you tell him you're pregnant he passes the fuck out. On the floor. And when he wakes up he cries for an hour straight, thanking you enough times with kisses pressed into every inch of your skin he could reach that the words don't even sound like English anymore. He's so grateful, so fucking grateful and terrified but above all, completely and irrevocably in love with you.

Throughout the pregnancy, he's as paranoid as it gets to the point you have to beg him to please leave you alone and no, Finnick the baby won't be hurt if i eat too fast please breathe and let me breathe but it's all from a place of love. He's lost too much, almost everything in his life. The few people he could still keep were precious to him and he was not going to let any of them forget that least of all his babies. Or baby.

Finnick talks to the baby a lot. Asking the most bizarre question to your bump as if he actually expected a tiny, baby's voice to answer him. He was constantly on about something new and his favourite topic to talk about was whatever his new hyperfixation was and you just nodded and smiled because of course the baby wants to know how to do an alpine stitch! But it was so endearing and relieving to see him finally be happy, finally find a purpose, even if it was to just talk nonstop to your belly. He deserves this, these little pockets of happiness.

And one of his greatest happiness was taking care of you. Circling back to the fact that he starts hyperventilating when his lover so much as sneezes too hard, the hellscape that was pregnancy scared him. No, fuck it, it terrified him. So he did what he always did and loved to do and banned you from anything and everything that needed physical exertion. Chores of any kind were out of order. You were on a healthy diet of four meals a day and of course they included all your cravings that he always presented to you no questions asked thank you very much and you had to take naps, multiple of them, all with his presence as a requirement (you were sure those were just an excuse to cuddle you but you would rather take up another round of hunger games than call him out on it). He attended every appointment, had an alarm set for all the prenatal meds, and always a kiss for the belly and your lips just so you knew that this was it for him. You and your baby were the very centre of his universe and this was him orbiting you both. And you couldn't help but be grateful that you had him to love and cherish just as he did you.

And your favourite way of telling him you loved him was letting him take control over the one thing you knew he loved: baby shopping. With all due respect, this is the type of guy who bought baby shoes when he was eighteen with no baby in sight because look at how tiny this is it's so cute *big sparkly green eyes.* But it's particularly endearing watching him waltz around the store, arms full of onesies and plushies and you kind of just stand there, unable to do anything because what the fuck were you supposed to do at nine months pregnant and married to a man who you *checks notes* gifted a day where he could buy anything he wanted as a birthday present?

I promise you the answer was not 'go into an early labour the second he dumped the shopping bags in the living room' but who am I to say anything?

The baby coming two whole weeks early did not sit well with his anxiety. He was a mess, a complete and utter mess but he was also the most precious angel on this planet so seeing him holding back tears of fear so he could be there for you and hold you tight, so tight, because he was scared he would lose you broke your heart too. While the pain of the labour was bad, knowing he was close, holding you tight as he pressed gentle kisses everywhere, to cater to everything you needed, was enough to realise, he was the one. And you were going to fight through hell for him.

Such a wretched thing, love, you thought to yourself as you felt him shake beside you through the pain and haze, to ask you to hope against hope that the strain on your strength and your fading string of fate would persevere despite it all.

But you did. You survived and so did your precious little baby girl, and so did the last pieces of Finnick's soul, despite it all.

The first time he holds his tiny, tiny baby in his arms, something in his brain just clicks (or maybe his frontal lobe was finally fully developed because of course his baby picked the day before his birthday to make her own entry on planet earth) but whatever it was, it was perfect. His entire world narrowed down to the squirming little angel in his arms and he couldn't help but feel his heart leave his chest for the second time in his life to become hers. She fit right into the crook of his arms, the space in his neck. She fit into his life like another piece of puzzle that he never knew he was look for.

She was his little angel, his little girl. The person he never knew he fought through whole wars for but now, holding her against his chest as he watched you both sleep, he knew this is what he was meant to do. To love, to love, to love. For the sake of it. Simply because he could. Simply because he was alive and it was good enough reason to love with his entire being.

Part 1 because I don't exactly know if you people will like it enough to want more.

speak now

"i hear the preacher say, ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’" "there's the silence, there's my last chance" "i stand up with shaky hands, all eyes on me" "horrified looks from everyone in the room" "but i'm only looking at you"

pairings: anthony bridgerton x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst with fluff at the end. you fell first, anthony fell harder. the reader is daphne’s best friend.

summary: anthony comes to a realization the night before your wedding— the wedding where you’re supposed to be marrying someone else.

the moonlight cast a soft glow over the elegant drawing-room of bridgerton house. anthony stood by the window, lost in thought, as daphne entered the room. she had just returned to london, bringing with her news that had unsettled him to the core.

"why have i not heard of this in lady whistledown’s columns?" he had demanded, pacing the room.

"it was kept private," daphne replied, her voice calm but tinged with sadness. "y/n did not wish for any undue attention. the wedding is tomorrow, anthony."

"tomorrow?" he stopped in his tracks, a look of determination hardening his features. without another word, he grabbed his coat and left the house, ignoring daphne’s calls after him.

the night was deep when anthony arrived at your family home. the world around him was silent, the only sound his hurried footsteps on the cobblestone path. he knocked on the door with a sense of urgency, his heart pounding in his chest. when you opened the door, your eyes widened in surprise and confusion.

"anthony? what are you doing here?" you whispered urgently, glancing around to ensure no one else saw. "it is improper for you to be here at this hour."

"i had to see you," he replied, his voice a fervent plea. "you cannot marry him."

you shook her head, "anthony, this is madness. you should not be here. think of our families’ reputations.”

“i do not care about reputations," he insisted, stepping closer. "i care about you, y/n. i cannot stand by and watch you marry a man you do not love."

your eyes filled with tears, but you quickly blinked them away. "you do not love me, anthony. you only say this because i am soon to be wed. please, leave before someone sees you."

his heart ached at your words, but he pressed on. "y/n, i have always loved you. even when you were merely daphne’s bothersome friend. my feelings are not sudden. they have always been there, growing stronger with each passing day."

you shook your head again, more vehemently this time. "no, anthony. this is not right. you must go."

with that, you turned and fled up the stairs, leaving him standing in the dimly lit hallway, the weight of his confession hanging heavily in the air.

returning to bridgerton house, anthony found daphne waiting for him, a knowing look in her eyes. "where have you been?" she asked, though it was clear she already knew the answer.

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "i went to see y/n. i professed my love to her, but she does not believe me."

daphne’s expression softened. "anthony, she has loved you since the moment she stepped into our home. you must show her that your feelings are genuine. if you truly love her, you must fight for her."

her words resonated deeply with him, and he resolved to do whatever it took to prevent the marriage.

the morning of the wedding dawned bright and clear, the air filled with a sense of anticipation. the church was adorned with flowers, the pews filled with friends and family. anthony took his seat, his heart heavy with the knowledge of what he was about to do. as the ceremony commenced, he watched you walk down the aisle, your face a mask of composure. when the bishop inquired if there were any objections, anthony rose to his feet.

"i do," he declared, his voice ringing out in the silence.

gasps echoed through the congregation. your parents exchanged shocked glances, and the groom’s face darkened with anger.

his mother, seated next to him, grasped his arm with urgency.

"anthony, what in heaven’s name are you doing?” she whispered, her voice filled with concern.

ignoring her, anthony kept his gaze fixed on you, your face had turned pale with shock. he moved his arm away from his mother’s touch, his resolve unshaken.

"i cannot let this happen," he said, his eyes never leaving yours.

your eyes were wide with a mix of emotions. without a word, you fled the church, the weight of anthony’s declaration heavy on your heart. you ran to the one place where you could find solace—the apple tree in your family’s garden.

you stood beneath the apple tree, your breaths coming in ragged bursts. the sun was setting, casting long shadows across the garden as anthony approached you. your eyes, still red from crying, met his with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

"go away, anthony," you whispered, turning away from him. "you have humiliated me enough. no man will want to marry me now."

"how did you even find me?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

anthony, catching his breath, gave a soft, sad smile. "i have seen you come here before. when the demands of society became too much at the balls held at your family home, you would retreat here to find solace."

your brow furrowed in surprise, you turned to face him. "you have been watching me?"

he nodded, his gaze tender. "i have always kept an eye on you, even if you did not know it. i wanted to ensure that you were safe and that you had a place to escape when you needed it."

your heart ached with the realization of his quiet vigilance. "you knew?"

"yes," anthony replied softly. "i knew. and i could not let you marry someone who did not see you as you truly are. you deserve to be loved fully, and i have always felt that love for you."

he knelt beside you, gently taking your hands. reluctantly, you met his gaze, and in his eyes, you saw an intensity you had never witnessed before. "i am terribly sorry for ruining your ceremony, but i simply could not bear to see you marry another. alas, i am a gentleman. if you do not feel the same, i will leave and never bother you again."

your heart ached with the depth of your feelings. "i desire no one else. i have always wanted you, but i never believed you could feel the same. i think you have ruined me for everyone else."

anthony’s grip on your hands tightened. "it is you who have ruined me, y/n. my heart is so full of you that i can hardly call it my own."

with a sob, you threw your arms around him, pressing your lips to his in a kiss filled with years of longing and unspoken love.

anthony held you close, your heart swelling with joy and relief. "i am yours, y/n. nothing will ever change that."

in the quiet of the garden, beneath the shade of the apple tree, your love found its voice, a love that had always been destined to be.