#NONE AT ALL NONE WHATSOEVER NOT ONE DAMN BIT OF IT | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

writingsbychlo · 1 year

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when you hold me | azriel

summary; azriel doesn't realise quite how touch-starved he is until he finally gets a little bit of affection, and he loves it. word count; 17,202 notes; this is in bullet form. it is insanely long. I have no excuses.

so here’s the thing, azriel's love language is touch, okay?

he’s touch-starved and a physically affectionate person, but he got so used to being cast out that he really repressed that side of himself.

even when he didn’t have to anymore, he had a reputation to uphold, by then.

he's the shadowsinger. the spy. the illyrian brute. the night court terror. silent but deadly. moody and quiet. darkness personified.

not really someone who cuddles, y’know?

now, luckily for him, cassian and rhys have different reputations, and they’re both quite physically loving too, so he doesn’t have to let his need for physical attention show.

cassian is constantly touching him, and everyone.

so he really doesn't struggle to get affection there, he can pout and roll his eyes and frown as much as he wants, but he secretly loves it, and cassian secretly knows it.

all the hair ruffling, arms around shoulders that turn into a headlock, and dramatic leaning/falling into az that cassian does? az eats that shit up. loves it.

rhysand also does a lot of touching. he isn't so much an affectionate toucher; he just does it without realising.

a lot of pats on the shoulders, hugs, gently bumping him with a hand, elbow, or hip to get past, rhysand does a lot of general touches, but az loves that too.

mor has absolutely no sense of personal space, like none whatsoever. she plays with his hair when she thinks it needs styling better, and often lays down with her head in his lap when they have deeper chats, and she dances with him on nights out. if he's ever in urgent need of a little physical affection, he finds mor, because she'll just start touching him as soon as she sees him.

with nesta and elain, he often offers to fly them around, or 'winnow' them where they need to go, because they'll always hold onto him, even just for a few seconds.

going out with feyre means she always stays close to his side. if they go shopping, she links arms with him, grabs his wrist to drag him along when she sees something she likes, and often gets herself so tired out that by the end of the day, she is practically falling asleep on him as they walk home.

he realised that if he offers to sit and pose for her paintings, she'll mess with him and rearrange him until he's sat how she wants.

he purposefully never learned how to do his own tie so someone else would do it ("my hands are too big for fiddly little knots, alright?")

he often asks cass to help him do up the seals on the back of his leathers ("hurts my shoulder trying to reach round and do up the clasps on these damn things.")

he likes teaching people to train because they rely on him for form corrections, and he likes sparring with rhys and cass because that means a lot of wrestling and pushing and he can have fun with it.

basically, azriel takes any fucking scrap of physical affection he can get, in any way.

and then you step into his life.

it's a cold evening in the middle of the winter, and azriel is pouting a little on the couch, because nobody has touched him all day.

in fact, touch has been declining a lot lately.

nesta no longer needs him to fly her around, she has cassian wrapped around her finger.

mor spends most of her time with emerie, whom azriel actually rather likes, which is worse, because he can't even hate her.

elain has been spending most of her time travelling with lucien, and never needs him anymore.

feyre and rhys spend most of their time with nyx now, which he cannot begrudge them for.

and amren was never particularly touchy, he found solace in not feeling like the only lonely one, but now she has varian, and he hates how bitter his jealousy tastes when he sees how affectionate she truly is.

and he doesn't have anyone.

everyone is chatting, and drinking, and the door opens, and in come lucien and elain.

hand in hand, noses and cheeks red from the cold, and hair a little messy from the wind outside.

behind them is you.

azriel almost feels stupid for the way his heart jumps a little when he sees you, he meets new people every day, he's not supposed to be shy he's supposed to be scary, but he can't help it.

you have the same cold-bitten and wind-ruffled look, and yet, unlike the joy on the other two's faces, you're nervous. terribly so.

his ears feel like they're ringing as he watches elain and lucien get comfortable, your hands still stuck into your pockets and your gaze flickering over the room.

your eyes meet his for a second, just a single second, and you smile, but it's so stunning it stops him from being able to reciprocate it until you've moved on, scanning everyone else before fixing your gaze back on the redhead you arrived with.

he's introducing you, an arm wrapping around your shoulders to pull you into his side, and you chuckle a little as he does.

azriel's skin prickles a little with jealousy. why is it so easy for everyone else to get affection but him? he feels pathetic for even thinking this way.

(Y/N). friend from the autumn court. best friend. the girl who taught him how to heal. sticking around for a while.

he was still processing these words when lucien pushed you forward a little with a hand on your back, your scowl as you stumble, earning a chuckle from everyone else, and a friendly knuckle to the cheek from lucien.

azriel’s gut twists achingly once again.

you go around, you're shaking hands and saying hello, and chatting to everyone, and just before you get to him, elain draws you into a conversation with her sisters. his hand curls into a fist, and he feels like a fucking child all over again.

is he really this worked up over a handshake? a handshake he didn't even get?

phantom feelings of sharp stone under his knees and the whistle of wind between cracks in the cell walls revisit him, when he'd long for the days the healer would come when he was a child to patch up his injuries, because at least the kind old woman who'd tended to him would pat his hair and wipe his cheeks when he cried.

his shadows swirl violently once, twice, as he thinks about it, and he stands before anyone can notice, chugging what's left of his drink and moving to the kitchen to make another.

he's leaning against the counter, staring into his own reflection in the whiskey when you knock at the doorway, forcing him to look up. he settles his usual stone mask over his face, instinct by now, and he raises a brow to prompt you.

"hello. I didn't get a chance to introduce myself before. I was worried you'd leave before I could. I'm (Y/N)."

"indeed, I heard." really? that's the best he could come up with? but the kitchen has started to smell faintly like cinnamon and burnt sugar, and his nose scrunches a little at the overly sweet smell, he's not used to anything like it. it makes it hard to think, it's almost dizzying.

you pause on the other side of the island, a small smile coming to your lips, before daring to take another two steps closer, hand stretching out to him. "I'll be sticking around for a while, the high lord thinks you could all use a permanent healer, something about rough play while you're training," the words bring a touch of a smirk to his lips, and your own smile widens when it does. "and I meet the criteria, apparently."

he huffs a bit of a laugh, slipping his own hand into yours, and every buzzing in his ears goes blissfully quiet, every firing nerve settles, and the smile he'd forced becomes genuine when your hand squeezes around his. you shake once, pulling back all too quickly, and he misses the feeling of touch instantly.

"now, elain says you don't like to be touched," wait, no- “so, if you ever want to get together sometime, we can talk about what you’re comfortable with, where your boundaries lie, that sort of thing…”

your words were tapering off, and he realised perhaps he should say something, or do something, or simply react, in any way at all, but he couldn't. because it was just so gut-wrenchingly sweet of you, and he hated it. he didn’t want boundaries. fuck them. destroy them. cross them all. he didn’t care.

he didn’t say that. instead, what he said was, “uh, sure. I’m pretty busy, but I’m sure we could work something out.”

you only nodded, lingering a second longer, and the tension between you both felt like it was stretching on for ages. you were so close, so close, and azriel clenched his hands by his sides once again, trying to fight the telling frown on his face, and the urge to reach out. your hair looked so soft, he’d bet it was, bet it smelled even more sugary, a smell he was rapidly getting used to, and-

and you were walking away, a small smile on your lips, and something deep and unusual within his chest flared a little with panic, and- “wait-”

was that him? azriel really wasn’t sure, he didn’t remember even thinking about making a noise, it just happened, and then- then you turned around, smile still there, a little more genuine this time.

you raised an eyebrow at him this time, prompting him silently the way he had you. he liked it. he smiled back, just a touch.

“I’m sorry.”

“you haven’t done anything to be sorry for, azriel.”

“I’m being rude.” you didn’t respond, and he sighed a little, shoulders relaxing fractionally from the rigid tensing that was beginning to ache a little. “I just have… a lot on my mind. my apologies, for my behaviour. I appreciate your offer.”

“well, physical healer I may be, but mental health is just as important to me. if you ever want to talk, I make a good listener. and, semi-reasonable advice giver.”

he chuckled, a soft sound that he didn’t often make, but merely the way you seemed to perk up a little at his amusement made him want to spend the rest of his life laughing. he didn’t know why.

“I’m not sure how much I can trust that advice, given you are optionally friends with lucien, who truly believes that toast tastes better when it’s a little burned.”

“I didn’t choose him, he chose me. you share your last cookie with the sad little boy at the playground one time, and you get stuck with the seventh in line to the throne for the rest of your life.” there was a fond smile on your lips, and for just as second, azriel revelled in this moment of quiet amusement with you.

then he remembered the same look of amusement on lucien’s face, when he’d had an arm wrapped around you, and playfully shoved you, and knocked your cheek.

and just like that, all the warmth of your conversation was stripped away, a shocking cold like a bucket of water straight from the Sidra on Starfall night tipped over his head. it reminded him just how lonely he was.

“I’d best get going, but, if you come by training with cassian and I, tomorrow morning, I’ll show you around. I assume you’ll be staying at the house of wind?” his heart was beating erratically fast in his chest, one scarred hand smoothing over the spot as it did. he felt breathless, waiting to see whether you’d accept his offer, waiting to see whether you’d reject him. azriel couldn't remember the last time he’d been this nervous.

“I'd like that, very much.”

“until tomorrow, then.”

you murmured something in response, but his heart was beating too fast, his blood rushing too loudly in his ears to be able to make it out. he simply nodded, hoping it would suffice, and left. he must’ve drunk a lot more than he thought.

hours later, when he was laying cold in his bed, his shadows informed him of your arrival. giggling in a somewhat tipsy state, you’d arrived mere seconds before cassian and nesta had landed on the balcony, one hand gripped tightly around lucien’s as he winnowed you in, wobbling slightly in your steps.

your friend had kissed your cheek goodbye, as had elain, even cassian had kissed your knuckles dramatically as nesta rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile of her own.

his bed felt like laying on a slab of ice. alone.

however, exactly one hour and twelve minutes into training, which was exactly thirty-eight minutes after azriel had officially given up on your arrival, you came.

his shadows swirled excitedly, so much so that cassian stuttered a little in his movements as they began to block his sights unintentionally, and the sweet smell of cinnamon and burnt sugar reached his nose once again, flooding the room a moment before you walk in.

he’s distracted, which is ridiculous, he never gets distracted, and he would have chastised himself for it if the blunt side of cassian’s wooden practice sword didn’t do it for him.

azriel’s vision spotted for a second as the wood collided with the side of his skull, teeth rattling, and he hissed out a curse, glare as cold as winter night’s shot at his partner when he began to chuckle.

“something got you all wound up, brother?”

“bite me.”

“not even one whole day and you boys are already putting me to use, huh?”

there was just something about you this morning. azriel really couldn't place it, but you were wearing a smile that made something in his chest clench a little, and as though you could read his thoughts, your hand lifted, rubbing gently over your own chest, over your heart.

“this? this is nothing to worry about, we’ve seen much, much worse.”

you merely rolled your eyes, stepping towards them both and bringing yourself further into the room. you beckoned azriel forward, and he was moving before he even knew what he was doing.

cassian scoffed good-naturedly, turning away to practice his swings against a wooden dummy, and azriel sank down, sitting against the edge of the ring as you came to stand before him. he spread his legs a little, letting you get that little bit closer, and you took it.

he blamed his breathlessness on the intense training he’d just done, not the smell of you overwhelming him like sugary treats and starfall spices.

“really, it’s nothing to worry abou-”

you raked your fingers softly through his damp hair, fingertips gently soothing along his scalp for bumps.

he choked, words dying in his throat on a pathetically breathy exhale that would have embarrassed him had azriel not been feeling pure ecstasy.

your other hand joined it, raking through his hair, pads of your fingers pressing and soothing along his scalp, and azriel’s world went dark. eyes closed, rolling to the back of his head and shoulders sagging a little as you examined for bumps. he almost wished cassian had hit him harder, just so you’d find something.

“is this okay?” your words were murmured, a soft breath for only him to hear, and azriel couldn't even form words;

“mhmm..”

nobody had ever touched him like this, run their fingers through his hair, and when your nails scratched lightly over his scalp before you pulled back, he barely bit back a whine, body feeling like melted butter.

you patted down his hair, he could only imagine the mess it had become, and it took more effort than most battles did for azriel to compose himself. to close the place where his bottom lip had parted from his top to near-pant, to open his eyes and hold them more than a sleepy half-lid, to straighten his shoulders and find some strength in his spine to sit properly. and most of all, to not reach out and beg you to do it again.

the sound of cassian’s grunt as he trained snapped him back into an awkwardly rigid position, jaw tensing a little.

“no bumps or breaks, you’re good to go, shadowsinger.”

“told you so.”

your eyes rolled again, in that gentle and fond way, and he hoped he would see it more. he liked making your eyes roll.

“next time, you need to defend your blind spots better.”

“are you giving me fighting advice?” once again, the smile he gave you was real. two within one day, you were making him break his mask at record speeds. it was concerning, if anything. that was what he chose to call it, anyway.

“you think I don’t know how to fight?”

“I know you don’t know how to fight. I can tell.”

“you can tell? how?”

“you have no grip strength, when you shook my hand last night, no way you could pick up a sword, it would drop right out of your hands. you tripped over your feet on the way over here, and you have zero awareness of your own blindspots.”

you gaped at him, and he couldn't help himself. he lifted a hand, pointer knuckle tucking under your chin to close your dropped jaw, and you huffed at him. his knuckle dragged along your skin for a split second, before dropping away, and he made a fist on his thigh, restricting any more movement. he was being far too needy and indulgent of his desire to touch, lately.

“maybe I didn’t want to hurt you by gripping your hand with my superior grip strength.”

“uh-huh.”

“and maybe I’m just clumsy.”

“I’m not disputing that.”

“and how would you know anything about my blindspots?”

he shrugged, smirking a little at the tendrils of black curling over your shoulders, one of them wrapping neatly around the ends of your hair, pulling them silently off of your shoulders, into a ponytail you had no idea was being formed until the darkness tugged lightly.

you gasped, the shadows skittering away like they were snickering at your shock, and azriel actually bit at the inside of his own cheek to contain his grin.

what was wrong with him lately? maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing there would be a healer around so much, perhaps he needed a check-up.

“alright, fine,” you had a look in your eye, one that he had absolutely no idea what it meant, and for the first time in his life, that confusion seemed to thrill him instead of terrifying him. “then teach me how to fight.”

“why on earth would you want to learn how to fight?”

“well, if I’m going to be out and about playing in the thick of it with you boys when you get yourselves all scratched up, it would probably be useful to know at least a little about defending myself.”

azriel hadn't thought about that. about all the danger he got himself into, about all the danger you’d be getting into. something cold settled in his chest, tight and gripping, making every breath feel a little rough.

he choked that down, too.

“what would I get out of that deal?”

“I’ll heal up all these little injuries, the bothersome ones you always brush off.” he raised a brow, breath pausing in his throat as you reached for him, soft fingers wrapping around his wrist, bringing his clenched hand up. he’d been trying so hard not to touch you, but here you were, touching him.

unwrapping each finger carefully, you smoothed them out, his palm flexing and twitching a little at the featherlight touch you brushed over the scarred flesh.

“like this one, a little paper cut, on the tip of your finger.”

brushing your thumb over the pad lightly, he watched in awe as the tiniest fleck of glowing golden light shone from it for only a second, before the injury he’d made only this morning was gone.

it didn’t bother him, those kinds of wounds may as well not exist at all, that kind of pain was one he was so used to it was a sensation like breathing or walking at this point, but it didn’t matter. he’d take a thousand paper cuts of you’d hold him that softly and fix them that tenderly again and again.

you were offering him a deal, a lot of touches and attention, and he tried not to scream his agreement, and show his enthusiasm too much.

“how’d you know that was there?” he pulled his hand back, your own hovering for a second where you’d held his much larger one, before dropping to your side.

“I sensed it, when I touched you, looking for your head bump, I picked that up instead, it’s the only injury you’ve got. physical, anyway.”

a tense moment of silence followed your words at the implications of your final sentence.

“you’ve got a deal. tomorrow morning we begin. but first, I believe I promised you a tour.”

he stood, putting a reasonable amount of distance between you both. he needed to remember who he was, he needed to remember who he was supposed to be. he couldn't afford to let his own weakness and desire pull at him anymore.

you took the hint, not getting nearly as close to him as you followed him around.

azriel was equal parts relieved and disappointed by it.

for months, the need got worse and worse, the tugging in his chest, the empty loneliness, the phantom feelings of touches he didn’t have.

he expected his urges to touch to go down, blamed it on the cold and the winter, blamed it on all the changes taking place, blamed it on recovering from the war. azriel blamed it on everything he possibly could, hoping it would go away.

every time you trained with him and cassian in the mornings, every book exchange in the library, every weekly checkup that you’d forced them to start doing, it all tortured him, because he was now fixating on every little thing.

except, it didn’t go away. it stuck.

azriel found himself longing more and more for the touches that seemed to be getting less and less frequent. or, perhaps they weren’t, and he was simply needing them more, and he was noticing the lack of them.

he had no idea why your arrival had sent him spiralling downhill, but he was struggling to patch up every crack that was beginning to break in his façade.

even his shadows were struggling, reaching out toward you in every room, searching all corners of it when you weren’t there.

everything just became easier when he started avoiding you entirely.

he skipped a couple of training sessions, an excuse about needing to catch up on work, and you didn’t question it.

he took meals in his bedroom, or after he was sure you’d already eaten, just to avoid you at the table.

he hid every cut and wound, and for the first couple of weeks, you berated him playfully, joking that he should have come and found you to fix them. it took everything he had not to smile, to respond, to prolong these sessions where your fingers were skim gently over his skin, shimmering gold sealing up small cuts and all the bruises, fixing every ache.

after a while, you just stopped. every near-silent check-up or barely-friendly greeting when you saw one another making something cold fill his chest.

but at least that sharp coldness within him was better than feeling completely empty.

it had been almost a full year when your first chance to truly go away with them arose. the air was cold enough that your breath clouded in the sky, snow was sticking to the ground, and there was a permanent layer of ice settled over the top of the Sidra.

it should have been easy, and yet everything that could have gone wrong, did.

the meagre forces of you, himself, cassian and nesta hadn't been nearly enough.

you were terrified, azriel was in and out of consciousness, being half-dragged along through the snowstorm by cassian, who winced every time he put their joint weight on his right foot, and nesta was clutching at her side.

there was blood clotted into your hair from a cut along your forehead, a bruise blossoming on your ribs and you were sure an arrow had caught you across your thigh, but it was so cold, you could barely feel any part of your body anymore.

flying out wasn’t an option, your only teammate who could winnow had been out-cold for nearly an hour, and the inn had been a blessed relief when it had finally come into view.

the patron hadn't even flinched when the four of you had stumbled up to the counter and demanded three rooms, blood dripping onto the floor between you all, snow and mud trekked up the stairs with keys clutched in hand.

“cass, start a fire, nesta, go get as many bowls of snow as you can.”

they did as told, and you began to peel back the layers of protective leather and armour azriel wore, laying haphazardly on the bed where cassian had left him as they scurried.

blood was smeared across skin that had gone pale, and bile rose in the back of your throat as you took in the wounds before you. they were like nothing you’d ever seen.

stripping off the top layer of his leathers, they made a sickeningly wet sound as they hit the wooden floorboards, blood spilling out around your feet in a puddle, soaking into the bedsheets that would never be truly clean again.

cassian hissed as he returned.

nesta’s hands shook as she began placing bowls of snow into the fire to heat.

neither could stomach staying as you began to stitch up the wounds.

over six hours later, azriel was healed and you’d seen to nesta’s cracked ribs, your attention moving to the final warrior who needed help, and ignoring the painful drag of every footstep you took to follow him.

cassian was laying a patched-up azriel onto the bed in the spare room, jaw clenched so tight you thought his teeth would crack.

“let me look at your ankle, cass.”

you sunk down onto the edge of the bed patting the space next to you once his arms were free of his friend, and he shook his head.

“it’s fine, nothing to worry about.”

“let me look.”

“no.”

“cassian, let me look at your ankle, gods dammit!”

silence filled the room around you both, and for a second you worried your yell would wake nesta, sleeping only on the other side of the wall.

he set himself down, lifting his leg up, and placing his ankle into your lap.

swollen shades of yellow and purple and blue, his ankle had swollen up so wide it was almost the thickness of the rest of his leg, and when you pressed it, his entire body trembled.

“s’gonna hurt a little bit, but only for a second.”

“what about you?”

“what about me?” you mumbled, fingers smoothing over his skin, a soft glow emitting from your hands as you worked.

cassian groaned, eyes squeezing shut as you began to repair the damage.

“I can tell you’re spent. I came to check on you, when you were healing az. you didn’t look so good. does rhysand know what healing does to you? does lucien? does anyone?”

your motions paused, only for a split second, before you were soothing over his skin, hands tightening around him as the swelling began to go down.

“they know. it’s just, I’ve never had to heal something this big before, he was practically dead. but, I’m fine. really. keeping him alive long enough to get here took a lot out of me, but it’s over now.”

‘fine’ was the best you could do. ‘fine’ was a grievous exaggeration, but cassian didn’t need to know that.

your head was pounding so hard you saw spots, your hands were shaking so violently that when they were no longer on cassian’s leg, you sat on them to hide the tremor. you’d sat down to heal cassian’s ankle because you’d nearly collapsed trying to follow him in here, legs giving way underneath you.

“you’re all done.”

he stood, testing his weight on his foot, letting out the same huff of amusement he always did when you healed him up so fast, no matter how many times you’d done it.

“where are you going to sleep? not in the other room, I suspect.”

your nose wrinkled up, the metallic smell of azriel’s blood was still so heavy you were surprised it wasn’t leaking through the walls, the fire in that room still burning from the ruined sheets you’d tossed in to dispose of.

something, something had lurched while you’d been tending to him as cassian and nesta fussed, and the idea of going back into a room where you’d fought just to keep him alive made your head spin.

“I’m going to stay here and keep an eye on azriel. if he makes it through the night, he’ll be fine.”

the truth was, you were nowhere near done. just because you’d stabilised azriel didn’t mean your job was over. it just took a little pressure off the clock. his skin was still too clammy, a fever fighting high, his heart rate was too weak and his skin still too pale. he was a long, long way from mended.

cassian looked dubious, sleep was crawling at the edge of his consciousness, you could tell from the way he swayed on where he stood, shoulders hunched and eyes drooping.

“besides, we’re safer in pairs. go and be with nesta, I’ll be here, we’ll meet up in the morning.”

he finally gave in, the mention of his mate making his head snap to look at the wall she lay on the other side of, like she’d tugged subconsciously to convince him to do as told. you wouldn't be surprised if she had.

the door closed behind him, and you were left in a cold, dark room, with only azriel’s rattling, wet breaths to let you know you weren’t alone.

you used what little strength you had left to make a fire, tugging the sheets out from underneath azriel and hanging them before the hearth to warm, before sealing them around his body.

you stripped off what you could of your own bloody leathers, washing both sets with cold water in the empty dishes of snow you had left, before hanging those, too, up to warm and dry.

settling in beside him, pain like you’d never known flared throughout your entire body as you called on your gift once again.

settling a hand on an unconscious azriel’s shoulder, your eyes closed, beginning to search through for every internal wound, stitching nerves and muscles back together one by one.

you were sweating, but freezing cold, throat raw and eyes stinging but no tears left to give as you gasped for breath.

you kept the fire going, his fever broke, and at some point during the night, azriel began to regain his strength.

he never woke, but you weren't aware you had dozed off yourself beside him until you were startled back awake.

he had rolled over, shuffled weakly across the bed until one arm had slung its way over your waist, cheek pressing into your shoulder, the cool tip of his nose was pressed into your neck.

he was still cold, no matter how many times you restocked the fire to keep it going, searching out for your body heat without realising it.

you lay still for a while, to see if he would wake, but he didn’t.

instead, you fastened an arm around his shoulders, the other threading lightly into sweat-soaked hair, still damp from where you’d tried to clean him up, soothing him lightly.

you used what strength you had left to make sure he stayed in a deep sleep, pain-free and unaware.

nesta was the one who woke you in the morning, looking a lot better than she had when going to sleep the night before, and you panicked a little as you stretched out to find yourself alone.

“good sleep, huh? I’ve been trying to wake you for five whole minutes.”

“where’s azriel? cassian?”

her eyes rolled, but you’d learned her tells, knowing all of it was in love, not hate. “they’re downstairs, paying extra for the ruined sheets and the rooms. storm cleared, we’re ready to go home, so get up and get dressed.”

you shifted, arms barely able to pull yourself up, and nesta’s eyes narrowed a little as you lay back down.

“can’t I have five more minutes? I was having a good dream.”

“you can sleep in your own bed when we get out of this godawful inn and back to velaris.”

“fine, I suppose you’re right. I’ll meet you downstairs in five minutes.”

she left, and five minutes was more like fifteen as you struggled to even stand up, never mind get dressed, and finally, make your way downstairs to meet them at the entry of the inn.

“‘bout time, I’m waiting on you to get home for a good meal.”

“my apologies, queen nesta.” she grinned, and your gaze moved to the other two. cassian was studying you, gaze flicking to your hairline, and you lifted your fingers to touch the sensitive skin there, still raw, the cut you had forgone to patch up even last night. your sharp glare kept him silent about it.

“the flight shouldn’t take long, and the skies are nice and clear now. we’ll be back in time for lunch.” to emphasise his point, cassian’s stomach rumbled, loudly.

he took off first, shooting up into the sky with nesta and leaving you standing in tense silence with azriel.

“az, how are you feeling?”

“fine.” he almost growled the word out, and your brows furrowed.

he hated doing this to you, the look of hurt that had flickered across your face, but he had to. pushing people away, keeping them out, he was good at that, he was used to it, and it made everything easier.

letting you in, it was far too painful, you would see every raw and damaged and broken part of him, and he wasn’t ready to face that.

when he’d woken up wrapped in your arms that morning, for a shocking second, azriel had felt at peace. for the very first time in his life, he had felt utterly content. like he didn’t regret anything, like he didn’t want anything to change, like he didn’t want a distraction.

and it had terrified him so much that he thought he might be sick.

“you’re a sleep cuddler.” apparently so. you were trying so hard to lighten the mood, and he wanted nothing more than to sink into that, but he couldn't. he choked back the lump in his throat, gaze flickering to the sky for a second, avoiding your gaze.

“I trust that won’t happen again.”

you went unnaturally still, gaze turning sharp on him as you stared, and he still couldn't bring himself to meet your eye.

“that’s all you have to say? that’s it? I heal you up, I take care of you, an-”

“that is your job, is it not?”

the laugh you gave him was cold and harsh. it made him feel like his chest was closing up, freezing over from the inside out.

“right. yes. my job. well, we should get going, I’m rather tired.”

he’d pushed it too far, too far too far too far, his shadows were almost biting at him as they whipped around his body, chastising him for his behaviour, his tone, his every decision.

“(Y/N)-”

“message received, azriel, loud and clear. I want to go home now, please.”

look up look up look up, meet his eye now, he was ready, he wanted you to. you wouldn't. you stepped closer, allowing him to pick you up, before soaring into the sky.

it was one of the worst flights of his life, and tense few hours, the silence azriel normally revelled in felt like it was suffocating him. he could feel the warmth of your magic, even now, swirling around you both to block out the chill until you were landing on the balcony, only moments behind cassian and nesta.

the rest were lined up, waiting for your return, welcoming you back with hugs and shoulder pats, and a table full of food waiting.

hurt.

azriel felt it as his shadows reappeared, catching up to him as he tucked his wings into his back, letting you down slowly.

hurt.

who? his gaze flickered over everyone that was lined up, scanning his friends for injuries.

hurt. hurt. hurt.

you stumbled, knees buckling, and had you not been standing so close to him when you did, you’d have hit the floor before azriel had caught you.

his shadows swarmed around you, until you were barely visible to the rest, and you sank slowly to the ground, letting azriel help you.

hurthurthurthurth-

his shadows recoiled as the heir of day stepped forward, dropping harshly to his knees to cup your face. your skin had paled, your eyes fluttering more closed than open, and your lips were parted with shallow breaths.

“what happened?”

“m’jus’ a little tired, that’s all.”

lucien smoothed a hand over your hair, letting you slump forward until your face was pressed against his shoulder, one hand clutching weakly at his shirt.

“you’re freezing, and you’re so shaky, why can’t you-” he paused, the hand petting your hair moving to rest over your forehead as he searched for something. “you burned out.”

“I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”

“you’re not just-”

“lucien, please.”

he stared, waiting a second, before the air around you both folded, and the space at azriel’s feet was empty. his shadows exploded, a representation of his own panic, before feeding back to him a second later that lucien had laid you in your bed.

“what was that?”

“she did too much,” cassian mumbled, hands wringing in front of himself, and rhysand rubbed his brow.

“how bad was it?”

“bad.”

“what. happened?”

he was ignored as cassian shrugged at their high lord, unsure where to start.

“we got caught off-guard, more of them than we could possibly handle. ness got hit first, az covered her, but it was too much. he- it was bad. I’ve seen soldiers die from a lot less. he would have died. but she held him together. I don’t know how, she just did. enough to make it to an inn, she fixed us up. stayed up with az the whole time, I could hear her moving around all night. I knew she was drained but I didn’t know it was this bad, if I did, I would have.. I would have.. done something. I wouldn't have let her help me too, I would have-”

cassian cleared his throat, walking away with a nod and a promise to debrief rhysand later. nesta followed.

“you knew this would happen? you knew she could burn out, that it would be this bad? you knew, and-”

“I knew, because she told me. she acknowledged the risks, she made the decision. she chose to look after you, she chose her own actions. she looks after us, and now we will look after her.”

his tone was final, and azriel’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt.

they left, one by one, they all left him on the balcony alone, to tend to the rest of their duties.

you’d pushed yourself to the brink for him, through agony and worse, and he couldn't even bring himself to crack open a little of the box inside his mind he worked so hard to keep sealed shut.

that was the moment azriel decided it was going to have or change.

you didn’t wake for two days. two full days azriel spent swimming in guilt and sadness, a feeling he couldn't place filling his every thought, making it hard to eat, or sleep, or even think.

he felt.. nothing. absolutely nothing.

two days, and on the evening of the third day, while everyone was sitting at the dinner table chatting, and azriel was emptily pushing perfectly good chicken and vegetables around his plate, you emerged.

“hello.”

azriel felt like his heart started back up in his chest.

“can you spare a plate? I’m fucking starving.”

lucien laughed, his head dropping for a second as elain grinned, patting the seat next to her that had been empty for days, the one opposite him, that had been taunting him.

slipping into it, cassian was quick to pile you up a plate, with more food than you could possibly eat, passing it along down the lines as you sunk into the chair next to him.

accepting the food, you settled back into everything like nothing had been wrong, like you hadn't scared azriel half to death, like you hadn't left him feeling adrift, untethered, lost, and he needed to talk to you, needed to make it right-

his stomach rumbled, clenching almost painfully. finally, he thought. he was fucking starving.

he would talk to you after he’d eaten.

the first chance to approach you came when you were sitting out on the balcony, still a little pale, still a little shaky, with a thick blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you stared up at the sky.

he sat down next to you, silently, trying to find as much comfort in the stars as you had, but his thoughts were spinning too fast. in the darkness, he let his shadows free a little, let them crawl underneath your chair, over the back, around your feet where you couldn't see.

“the skies never look quite like this in autumn. I like it here.” your words were steady and calm, nothing like his heart, and azriel twisted his head to look at you. you were not looking at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“you have nothing to be sorry for, azriel."

he felt like he was living everything over again, you were strangers once again, and that thought made every other one freeze inside of his head, a spotlight focus on that.

“please, don’t shut me out.”

you looked at him now, studying him like a journal, brows furrowing a little.

“I never shut you out, azriel. you are the one who shut me out. you made it very clear that you didn’t want my touch, nor my friendship, nor even my company. it’s okay, I don’t expect everyone to always want my companionship, but next time, at least a ‘thank you’ for saving your life would be nice.”

“thank you.” the words tumbled from him like water spilling from the sky when a storm broke. “thank you, for all of it. for staying up to make sure I made it through the night, and for.. for caring.”

you help his gaze, nodding once. “you’re welcome.”

you looked back to the sky, ignorant to the shadows crawling higher and higher up, languidly, begging him to let them curl around you, still fearing for your wellbeing.

“I like to be touched,”

he spoke the words without breathing, without looking at you, still staring at the stars, even as he felt your attention move to him. it felt like a weight being lifted off of his chest, but it was terrifying, a confession spoken now that he could never take back.

“I like to be touched. I love being touched, but it’s not who I am. I am not supposed to be.. soft. I’m supposed to be strong, and powerful, and it terrifies me that I can be so- that I need it. I love being touched, but I can’t ask. They can’t know. I can never tell them.”

you didn’t ask who they were, and you didn’t ask why. somehow, he knew that you just understood.

“you scare me. you scare me more than anything, because for all of my life I’ve been just fine, centuries suppressing this need and managing it all, and then one year ago you come along, and everything changed, and I don’t know why.” the more he spoke, the lighter he felt, some deep and suffocating binding was finally loosening within him.

“perhaps 500 years of pretending not to need attention, not to need love, has finally started to take its toll.”

you were right, he knew you were, but it was still a hard truth to swallow.

“you know, we all have our love languages.”

“our what?”

“love languages.” there was a soft smile on your face when he finally braved looking at you, and it made him feel secure, like his confessions were in safe hands, like for once, he didn’t have to carry every burden on his own. “there’s five.”

“five?”

“yes.” you twisted a little more toward him. “rhys and feyre, they’re the same. they just want to provide for the people they love. perhaps it’s why it’s so easy for them to love one another. both of their love languages are similar. rhys’.. his is gift giving. he shows you all his love through what he can give you, buy you. he houses you all, spoils you constantly, makes sure you are always provided for. he does it sneakily, like buying cassian’s favourite cookies or making sure there are always fresh flowers for elain.”

“what about feyre?”

“hers is acts of service. she spent years providing for her family, she went through hell for tamlin, and then through war for rhys. she was willing to give everything for them all, she continues to do so. elain, hers is quality time. when lucien began inviting her to the spring court, they used to do nothing but sit or walk in silence for hours in the gardens. or in the living room, when he’d read while she learned to knit.”

“what about nesta? she doesn’t fit any of those boxes.”

“no, she doesn’t.” whether you’d noticed them or not, you didn’t say, but azriel’s shadows were beginning to crawl up and over you, weaving around you in lazy swirls as you whispered quietly between yourselves, to the background noise of your friends in the house. “nesta’s love language is words of affirmation.”

he didn’t need to question it, that made perfect sense.

“yours is touch. everyone has a love language, azriel, and it’s not something to be ashamed of. it’s simply who you are.”

somehow, you made him feel alright with something he’d spent 500 years hating about himself.

“what is yours?”

“technically, I don’t actually need to touch anyone, to heal them. I just have to be close enough to feel their energies.” he processed the words, heart skipping a beat a little at the meaning. you were the same as him. “just think about it all.”

you stood, taking the blanket from your shoulders and leaving it folded over the back of the chair you were leaving behind.

as you walked past, you paused, placing a hand on his shoulder, and shadows rose, wrapping like bracelets around your wrist as you squeezed lightly. “if you can’t tell them yet, that's okay. but if you ever need someone, you can come and find me. you’re hurting, az, and it’s my job to keep you all in one piece. if holding you when you need it is something you want, then you know where to find me.”

he couldn't speak, only nod, because he wasn’t sure he could get any words out around the lump in his throat.

you left, leaving his head somehow both spinning and utterly empty.

he waited, mulling over your words, whispering them to himself in the dark, until it became too cold to be comfortable, anymore.

almost everyone had retired, only cassian, mor and amren still awake, drinking quietly in front of the fire, but he didn’t feel like joining them.

no, he knew where he truly wanted to be.

the clock read over two hours since you’d left him, you’d surely be asleep by now, and azriel tried to pretend like it wasn’t disappointment filling him. stop being needy.

he was making his way to his own bedroom, taking the long route, when he passed your door. light was still spilling out from underneath it, golden glow from the crack between it and the floor, and azriel felt like his feet were rooted to the ground.

he could feel his heartbeat, right down to his fingers, and he clenched them into a fist to stop it.

he knocked. he knocked, he didn’t know what possessed him to do so, and maybe it wasn’t too late to just leave, but then there you were;

standing before him, pretty nightgown and a cardigan, hair a little ruffed from the loose way you’d fastened it back, and you didn’t look at all surprised to see him.

“az. would you like to come in?”

“more than anything, actually.” he breathed the words weakly, no longer having any embarrassment left to give, and he stepped over the threshold, letting you close the door.

your fire was lit, logs crackling quietly, but he couldn't smell them, instead, he could smell the candle you had, winter spices and berries, a sweet combination, but not as sweet as your smell. your sheets were tossed askew, clearly having been used, and a book lay on the bed, page marked.

“can I..?”

you raised a brow, but he didn’t know exactly how to word what he wanted, he wanted so much, he didn’t know where to start.

“do you want to lay with me while I read?”

“you mean, like we did that night?”

“if you want.”

he felt young again, no strain and stress on his shoulders, just bashful and a little shy, watching as you walked back to your bed, getting comfy once again. you patted the sheets, prompting him to move, and he did.

slowly, so slowly, azriel removed one boot at a time, placing them neatly in a pair at the end of your bed. then his belt, and his jacket, undoing every clasp and buckle slowly, until he was merely left in the comfortable trousers he’d worn to dinner, and his t-shirt.

one knee on the edge of the bed, and then the other, nervous but pushing on as azriel all but catapulted himself over a line he’d never considered crossing before. you lifted the blanket, welcoming him under, and he lay himself down slowly.

shuffling a little closer, he hesitated, close enough to feel every bit of warmth you gave off, but not touching a single part of you.

“I-.. I’m scared.”

“you don’t ever have to be scared with me, azriel. my job is to heal you, let me do that.” you spread your arms for him, and he gave in, the last shred of resistance obliterated.

he collapsed down by your side, cheek pressing into your shoulder, nose brushing that spot, that spot on your neck that smelt so damn sweet, every bit of you. his front was pressed up along your side, the arm curled around his shoulder, fingers threading into his hair, and he didn’t realise how much he needed it until the sigh he let out shook.

and then his shoulders did.

his chest.

he didn’t realise he was crying until three or four breaths in.

he felt frozen, body locked up as he sobbed, unable to help himself, your fingers weaving through his hair, giving him privacy even as he lay atop you, reading quietly and flicking each page every so often.

he cried until it felt like that well of emotion inside of him that he spent so long locking up no longer felt like it was about to overflow. it was manageable, truly kept in place, for once.

he dared to reach out, to hold you back like you held him, one arm over your waist, anchoring you down, making sure you were real, you weren’t going to leave.

and you let him.

every breath he took tasted sweet on his tongue, like roasted marshmallows, and the last thing azriel truly remembered before everything went black was the feeling of your other arm reaching over, hand placed atop his scarred one on your stomach, squeezing lightly.

when azriel woke, he panicked. this wasn’t his bed, his room, and there was someone here, someone holding him, someone-

it all came back. he shifted, pulling his face from where it still lay on your shoulder, one limp hand woven into his hair, falling away when he looked up to you, still asleep. your breaths were even. as he pulled back some more, you shifted, following his warmth the way he had subconsciously done to you. it sparked something in his chest, heart pinching a little.

there was no way he could move now.

he lay back down, rolling onto his side, and pulling you softly back toward him. you went, sleepily, curling up against him. dawn had broken, he was supposed to be training, cassian would be there already, and yet not a single part of him was willing to move, not even his shadows, which were spilling like lazy waterfalls over the bedsheets surrounding you both, hardly any movement at all.

it was like nothing he’d ever felt before. euphoria.

when you woke, it was with a little jump, like you were caught off-guard as much as he was.

you stretched somewhat, and azriel slackened the arm he’d been using to hold you close, but you didn’t pull away.

instead, you rolled over a little more onto your back, but shuffled close to him, using his arm like a pillow as you blinked to adjust to the morning sun.

“you stayed.”

“is that okay?”

“it was lovely. I haven’t slept that well in ages.”

“I haven’t slept that well ever.”

azriel had hoped that by the morning, he’d have found some control over his filter again when he was around you. it would seem that hope was ill-founded.

you gasped, mockingly placing a hand over your heart, a teasing look in your eyes as you looked at him. “I am truly honoured. like a dreamcatcher, obviously, I’m just the very best cuddl-”

he rolled his eyes, and didn’t bother to hide the smile on his face. he’d exposed one of his deepest secrets to you, everything else felt so small now in comparison. he cut you off by squeezing you tightly, rolling his arm up behind your head and clamping a hand over your mouth.

eventually, the two of you had gotten up, and he’d parted ways with you at the bedroom door to change his clothes before meeting everyone for breakfast.

but, like a bucket of cold water, the high he’d been floating on came crashing down when he walked into the dining room.

you were already sitting at the table, buttering a piece of toast as mor piled more onto your plate, insistent on getting three days worth of missed food into you as he sat down.

“where exactly were you this morning, brother? you missed training entirely. the girls teamed up on me, do you know how unfair that was? three against one, azriel!”

he froze a little, halfway into his seat, eyes flicking to the warlords, before he sat properly.

“I was sleeping.”

“sleeping?”

“yes. you know, that thing where you close your eyes, and go unconscious for extended periods of time in order to-”

“shut up, you know what I meant.” he remained staring, like he was trying to work azriel out, and you chuckled at them both.

“cass, your mother hen is showing.” the man scoffed, turning his scrutiny to you instead, and azriel loosed a breath with appreciation. he wasn’t ready yet, to tell everyone else what he’d managed to tell you. he may never be ready, but he already felt lighter having let just one person in.

something bumped his ankle, and dropping his gaze down to below the table, he caught your foot reaching out, slippered toes kicking lightly at his ankle. he shifted forward in his seat, tucking himself underneath properly, and your fluffy foot wrapped around his ankle lightly.

his head spun.

right here, in his everyday life, someone was touching azriel just for the sake of touching him.

he wasn’t ready to tell anyone else yet, and you were accommodating him.

he didn’t know what he’d done to deserve this, and one day, he was sure it would all come crashing down, but at least for now, he decided he would just enjoy it.

and so, it continued just like that.

you would touch az any chance you got, subtle, enough to go undetected, but enough that everything inside of azriel was practically singing with joy, all times of the day.

you’d place a hand on his shoulder when you stood beside him while he sat down, you’d link your foot with his when you sat at the table, you’d move him with your hands, this way or that way. you’d grab onto him, drag him around when he was late for his checkups because he got caught up in work. you’d poke him, and jab him when he teased you, and you’d pinch his cheeks until he swatted you away when you teased him back.

and most of all, you let him keep up his façade, rolling his eyes and huffing and pushing you away lightly, without ever pulling back from him.

more and more nights as it went on, he ended up in your bed at night, reading beside you quietly as his leg lay pressed up to yours, or your head slumped onto his shoulder when you got tired before he did.

it was months before azriel had the nerve to touch you in front of everyone without reason.

he was frustrated. he was angry and worn out, and he’d been gone for days when he finally saw his family again. five days of poor sleep, lonely days, and exhausting work trying to gather information.

he wanted to be held, he wanted nothing more than to collapse back into the lifestyle he’d become so used to already, in such a short amount of time.

you were there, sitting on one of the couches, spread out along it as everyone chatted, wine passed around. the volume hit zero as he hovered in the doorway for just a second.

“az, you’re back! how was it?”

“shit.”

“did you get it done?”

“of course.”

“good. join us. do you want a drink?”

he swallowed, throat dry, only nodding instead. but, that wasn’t really what he wanted. he was frozen in spot, and everyone was staring at him now. silence. but he was staring at you.

you sat up a little further, blissed-out look passing from your face, your back straightened. your eyes passed over him, once, twice, before meeting his gaze again.

“az, are you hurt?”

it felt like he had to force the word out, heart pounding in his ears as he considered every consequence of what he was about to do, every truth he was about to lay bare. he could pretend, he could say he was hurt, he knew you’d fake it for him. or, he could finally face the thing that terrified him.

he didn’t care, not anymore.

“no.”

at long last, his feet were moving again, and he strode across the room. kicking his boots off roughly and leaving them abandoned on the floor by the couch, next to wear your heels lay. you must have been out for drinks with mor and the others, everyone seeming a little dressed up.

he stripped off the leather jacket next, dropping it down onto the floor.

he sank, ass hitting the cushions, twisting, until he could lay down, the back of his head landing softly on your thighs.

he closed his eyes, he didn’t want to see everyone's faces, he just wanted to feel you.

rhys cleared his throat, breaking the tension that had lasted well over ten-seconds already.

“well, then. wine or whiskey, az?”

“whiskey, three fingers.”

“you got it.”

you threaded your fingers into his hair, and az let loose the rumble from his chest that he always had when you played with his hair, nails scraping lightly at his scalp.

you shifted underneath him, stretching one leg out along the couch behind him, shifting so his head lay on your stomach instead, resting between your legs comfily.

“so, it all went according to plan?” feyre was next, an overly high lilt to her voice, as rhys tinkered at the drinks cabinet in the corner.

“no, no, no, hang on. we’re all just going to avoid t- ow, nes!” a resounding thud cut him off, and azriel smirked as he heard cassian rubbing at what he assumed was the back of his head.

“everything went fine, just glad to be back. that’s all.”

“yeah, bet you are.” cassian grumbled, and your stomach shook under azriel’s head as you laughed.

rhys pat his shoulder, and he finally cracked his eyes back open, accepted the drink that was being offered. he took it, nodding a ‘thank you’, and his high lord’s eyes sparkled a little as he looked at the pair of you.

sitting up, he tried to fight the warmth coming to his cheeks, the one reaction he couldn't contain no matter how hard he tried, and he covered it by taking a long swig of the burnt amber liquid inside.

“we were just talking about cassian’s most embarrassing encounter at rita’s.”

“what?! no, we were not!”

“no, no, I distinctly remember that's the conversation we were having.” rhysand backed you up, winking at the change in topic of conversation, and feyre nodded her support. “wasn’t it around the 300 years mark, just after the summer solstice..”

cassian’s face blanched, nesta perked up, as did elain and feyre, and both mor and rhys chuckled into their drinks.

his brother was now forced to retell this story for you four, and azriel felt a single claw tap three neat times at the inside of his mind. after a moment of hesitation, he let rhys in. let him see it. let him feel it, the way you made him feel.

his other brother only nodded, pulling back, smiling as he wrapped an arm around his mate, pulling her into his side to focus on the story.

for the first time ever, as azriel watched it and wished he had that too, he could act. he reached for you, wrapping an arm around you and tugging you closer to his chest. you went willingly, leaning your head on his shoulder as you giggled, thoroughly invested in cassian’s story.

he ran his nose over the crown of your head, smiling into your hair when you relaxed even further into him.

he’d never felt so settled.

that night, when you lay in bed, and he let himself into your room, the energy felt different.

he collapsed down beside you, flopping onto his stomach, pulling a pillow under his head and reaching an arm out across your waist as you chuckled.

“big step you took tonight.”

“I was sick of everyone else getting what they wanted, and never taking what I want.”

“I’m proud of you.”

his eyes snapped open, finding you instantly, and he stared at you for a second, eyes narrowing, and you never flinched away.

“what?”

“I'm proud of you. you faced a fear you’ve held for, what, almost five centuries? you should be proud of yourself, too.”

he only nodded, discarding the pillow and moving over to you, no longer feeling even an inkling of nerves as he collapsed down onto your pillow with you, noses mere centimetres apart, legs tangling together as he searched for your touch, as he always did nowadays.

you lifted a hand, placing it on his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone delicately. “you deserve good things, az. let yourself ask for them, let yourself take them.”

he was rendered completely breathless, heart racing so fast it felt like it stopped, and all he could do was smile.

in that moment, when you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, giggling as you pulled back to blow out the final candle lighting the room, he felt his heart actually stop.

in that moment, azriel knew he was completely, totally and undeniably fucked.

after that night, a line had been crossed.

he crossed it, he made the first move, edging forward into something entirely unknown. azriel was used to suppressing his feelings, he never confronted them. and yet, not, he was not only acknowledging them, he was acting on them, using them.

he woke up before you the following morning, as he always did, content to lie in once again, ignoring his training with cassian once again. cass was surely going to get sick of this, but he didn’t care.

you, however, had different plans. you woke moments after him, jerking awake with a sudden jump, one hand coming up to your head.

you merely groaned, leaving his arms to sit up straight in bed, covers pooling around your lap and his.

“what’s wrong, angel?”

“I realised I’m late for- what?” a pink tinge touched your cheeks, and you turned, glancing at him over your shoulder. lips parted in a pretty way, eyes wide and vulnerable, and he lifted one arm, propping it behind his head and grinning like it hadn't been intentional.

“I said, ‘what’s wrong, angel’?”

the colour on your cheeks deepened, and you swallowed, several times, before licking over your lower lip and dropping your gaze.

“cassian. uh, well, training. uhm, training, with cassian. I’m late. for it. for training with cassian.”

his smile stretched as you stumbled over your words when his gaze fixed on you, trailing slowly over you in the morning light.

azriel really was grateful for the blocks you were removing from his mind, every wall you took down allowed him to realise something new, and the wall you’d removed last night allowed him to truly witness just how beautiful you were. and just how affected he was by it.

you were breathtaking, messy hair and wide eyes, shrouded by the golden light of the morning, and wreathed in twisting shadows as they wrapped around you, weaving through your hair, tickling your cheeks, teasing you.

he couldn't even begin to have imagined such a sight. ethereal.

“well, then, you’d better get going.” he showed no signs of moving, pulling your covers back up his body somewhat, and you gaped at him.

“you- you’re staying here? in my bed? you’re not- you’ve not got things to do?”

“I have nothing else to do, and I’m comfy. I’ll probably still be here when you get back.”

“I- uh, okay.”

“unless you’d rather me come to training? we could work on your takedowns.”

“wait, whats wrong with my takedowns? I took down nesta, and gwyn!"

“and until you can take down me and cass, I’m not secure in your safety.”

you huffed at him, but there was a playful smile on your face, telling him you weren’t really mad, and he reached out, placing a hand on your knee, squeezing lightly. your gaze tracked the movement.

“so, will you come?” he raised a brow at you, and you gasped a little at the innuendo he’d turned it into. “to training! will you come to training?”

“I suppose so.” he sat up, stretching his arms over his head, and his shadows told him of the way you bit your lower lip, gaze flicking over his chest and arms, before snapping away to stare pointedly at the door before he caught you. “I’ll go and put on my leathers. I’ll meet you there, angel.”

rolling from the bed and flexing out the numbness from his wings, he leaned back over, one hand on the mattress beside you, one on your hip, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, and pulling back.

“see you soon.”

he was practically breathless by the time he reached the corridor, closing the door behind himself, shoes in hand.

on the way to his own bedroom, he crossed rhysand, who was passing to his office, coffee mug raised halfway to his lips, and his brows shot up. “alright, brother?”

“more than alright.”

“want to tell me about it?”

“not yet.”

“in that case, good luck.”

az grinned, continuing on his way through the house to prepare himself for training.

and just like that, azriel’s favourite new hobby began; teasing you. seeing just how much he could make you blush, how far he could go, whether you felt the same way.

lingering hands that slipped a little lower than needed when you trained, stares that he knew were more than suggestive, winks to accompany jokes that pressed well beyond that of friendship.

now that he had decided to be truthful with friends, he couldn't keep his hands to himself, he wasn’t sure how he ever did.

azriel liked to sit next to you, bury his face in your neck or hair, keep you tugged in close to his side. his arm lived permanently over the back of whatever seat you were on, and he always sat next to you, tucking hair away behind your ears, rubbing your back gently when you got sleepy, and holding you close to his chest every night when you slept.

he simply couldn't get enough.

after a few weeks, you’d stopped blushing and being as shocked. you’d caught onto his little game, he suspected, because you had begun making a habit of teasing him back.

you would kiss every cut and scrape and wound that he got once you’d fixed him up, lips teasing over the bandages as he pouted about it falsely.

you’d started to make him work for it, to always find someway to squirm or shuffle, to tease him with the possibility of leaving just so he’d have to grip a little tighter.

you’d taken to playing with his hands, running a the pad of your index over each finger and around his palm, featherlight touches that made him twitch.

and he loved it. every second of it, he loved it.

whenever he could get his hands on you, your hands on him, any part of his body touching you.

and when you weren’t there, his family had gotten more affectionate too.

cassian gave him a hug every single time he saw him, and it was almost the fifth hug before azriel stopped feeling the lump form in his throat.

rhys had taken to patting his back and shoulders every chance he got while feyre had taken to squeezing his hands and arms. mor would ruffle his hair and pinch his cheeks. he loved all of that, too.

but he didn’t love any of it as much as he loved your touch.

and so, the morning when azriel finally lay the last piece of his soul bare to you had felt so utterly normal.

he’d been in your bed that night, his legs were still tangled with yours in the early morning golden sun, noses almost touching as you shared a pillow, and just whispered about everything. his hand was tucked under your shirt to run over your skin lightly as your fingers played with his hair.

it had been utterly perfect.

he’d told you about his mother, and the childhood he’d been locked away, and the healer who would be his only form of touch for years as she fixed him up after his brothers or step-father hurt him.

he let you into that final piece of himself, and you’d made it beautiful, just like the rest.

and so, when he'd leaned forwards, catching your lips with his own in a delicate meeting, it had felt so right. not heart-racing, not anxiety-inducing, not new and terrifying and bold. no, it had felt like coming home.

and that terrified him.

it terrified him more so when he felt his chest hum, felt his heart skip a beat and the snap that made his breath rush from him. he felt it, felt a bond form, felt the bond form. he was scared.

he could feel his heart speeding up, his thoughts spinning, every mind-stilling technique he’d mastered over the years seemed to go out the window and azriel felt himself gaping at you in shock.

you were frowning at him now, and he could vaguely feel the touch of your fingers slip down from his hair to sit on his cheek, thumb stroking over his face, and every swipe felt like fire over his skin as his nerves electrified.

“not exactly the reaction you want to a mate bond.”

you were smiling, joking, and the breath once again felt pressed from him. this time, every muscle locked up, he went so still he felt like even the blood in his veins had stopped moving.

“you knew?”

a whirlwind of emotions whipping through him; confusion, anger, sadness, frail grief even as he pulled away from your touch on his face.

he pushed himself to sit up, legs swinging over the edge of the bed, and the sound of your sigh made irritation bubble within him as he processed it.

rubbing a hand over his face, he sighed, goosebumps lining his bare chest, all the way down to the boxers shorts he’s stripped down to sleep in.

then, there was a burst of concern in his chest, dizzying and disorientating for a moment before he realised it wasn’t his. it was yours, from the bond.

he snapped up walls around it, much the same feeling as the walls in his mind with rhysand, and just like that, soothing cold like his shadows took over where hot love and concern had once been.

he stood, trying not to take in the hurt on your face as he closed his end of the bond.

“az..”

he stumbled a little at the sound of his name on your tongue, feeling so much, positive and negative; love and betrayal, hurt and anger, comfort and sadness. it was a maddening concoction.

“you knew! you knew and you didn’t tell me! how could you, how could you do that to me?”

he reached for his leathers, tugging the pants up his legs and fastening them right over his shorts, grabbing for his t-shirt next.

you sat up now, crawling across the bed and tangled in the sheets before reaching a hand out to him.

“azriel.”

he flinched away from your touch, and your outstretched hand faltering before falling to rest on your thigh instead as you sat back on your heels.

“no, no, no. I need to think, don’t touch me right now. I just.. I need some space.”

“you need to think.. about us? about the bond?”

“I have some things to think about!” he was almost ashamed of the outburst as he tugged on his shirt, not even fastening it behind his back, and grabbing his boots and jacket in hand.

“right… okay, sure.” your voice cracked, and azriel was sure that would have killed him to hear had he not been swirling with so much anger already.

and then he was leaving, slamming your door behind himself and making the journey back to his room barefoot. he barely processed the walk, he barely remembered seeing lucien in the corridor or seeing feyre in the foyer.

the first time his head was clear once again was hours later, when he found himself in front of a punching bag.

he’d done as he always had, and resorted to mindlessly pounding out his emotions whenever it was too much. there were weapons scattered around himself, practice swords near the wood pillars and spare wrapping for his knuckles on the bench, and he reached a hand out to stop the bag from swinging.

there were mixed smells in the air, mostly his own sweat, that of the valkyries too. they must have come to training, and he hadn't even noticed. he’d been so caught up, so totally lost in his shadows and his feelings that he’d managed to block out the world entirely.

he willed them back, away from the frenzy around him and into a somewhat calm semblance behind his body, a writhing mass of cool, collected terror.

it was only once they were drawn back that he noticed his brother, arms crossed, leaning on the doorway with his brows raised.

“want to spar about it?”

his lips twitched up at the edges, and he glanced the ring, before nodding.

cassian had always known just what he needed when he was in a mood like this.

then again, he’d never quite had a mood like this before. never the hurt of finding his mate, finding out his mate already knew and had deceived him, and then the betrayal to follow, all within minutes. no, this was brand new.

he didn’t want to talk, not as he watched cassian powder and wrap his hands, not as he watched his brother take stance, and not as they began to throw and dodge punches.

no, it wasn’t until azriel was dripping in sweat and panting so hard his lungs hurt that the therapeutic part of it finally kicked in, and his shoulders felt light enough to let the words sitting on his tongue free.

“she’s my mate.”

“yeah.” cassian didn’t even hesitate, and the shock of realising that cassian knew too was so stark he caught a punch across his jaw.

he swore, spitting out to the side and cutting a glare at his brother. he’d already landed a good few punches of his own, but he’d get him back for that one.

“you knew as well?”

“yeah.”

azriel landed a hard blow to his brother’s ribs, prompting more than just that one word out of him with a matching glower.

instead, cassian slowed the movements of his feet until they were standing still, panting and aching and loose of physical tension at last. wordlessly, he had stopped the fight, enough that they were actually going to talk about this, it seemed.

“she told me after that one mission, where you almost died and snapped at her real bad. when she woke up after her burnout, we talked about it. I wanted to apologise to her. she told me, that the bond had snapped for her during that night when she was caring for you.”

azriel remembered that, or, the morning after, at least. how it had felt to wake up to you, to wake up to touch and feeling loved, and how he’d reacted much the same that morning as he had this morning.

he’d freaked out, and snapped, and yelled a little bit. he cringed slightly at the comparison.

his brother was smiling, unwrapping his hands. “so, it snapped for you too, then! when?”

“this morning, when we..”

azriel cleared his throat as heat rose to his cheeks, and cassian wiggled his brows with a smirk. “when we..?”

“oh, gods, cass. when we kissed, that's it.”

then, cassian’s smile dimmed, and his gaze flicked around the room at the chaos left in azriel’s wake.

“so, if it snapped this morning, what the hell are you doing beating out your frustrations up here? there’s much more enjoyable ways to pass the energy surge, you know.”

he winked, and azriel merely rolled his eyes, but he had no anger left to spare at the moment.

“I… was overwhelmed. I’ve waited so long, cassian, it took me by surprise. I freaked out a little bit, I was so shocked.”

“and?”

sometimes it scared him just how well his brother could read him. he sighed, trying to clear his thoughts enough to recall the morning the way it had happened, without the fog in his mind.

“and then she told me that she knew. she knew all this time, knowing how much I cared for her, how much I wanted her, how much I wanted a mate, and she kept it from me.”

“because you’re just known for your calm, logical reactions in moments of emotional stress. obviously.”

that earned cassian a scowl weighed with threat and disdain.

“she said she knew, I freaked out and said I needed some space to think, because how could she do that to me? I needed to leave and think some things through.”

“well, as long as you didn’t say it quite like that, but..” cassian shrugged, grabbing his water bottle and taking a hearty gulp before tossing it to azriel.

he was parched, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink when cassian had dropped a statement like that on him.

“that’s exactly how I said it. verbatim. what do you mean?”

“are you serious, azriel?”

rarely did cassian ever take that tone with him, he couldn’t even remember the last time he had, and azriel’s eyes widened a little in shock.

“let me just be sure I’m understanding this correctly. the woman who is head-over-heels for you, constantly gives you her all, openly adores you for all to see, you didn’t even suspect that she was your mate?”

“I mean, I hoped, but I tried not to think too hard so I wouldn't be disappointed-”

his excuse was cut off, ignored, as cassian held his hand up to him.

“then, when the bond finally snaps for you, because you finally let that last bit of your walls down to actually let yourself be happy, that’s what you say?”

“harsh, cass.”

“you told that sweet, kind woman, who knew and was waiting for you to figure it out on your own, because you’re so stubborn and hard-headed that you won’t just let yourself be happy, that you needed to think? you didn’t stop to think that for all this time she’s been protecting that bond alone, the bond you didn’t pick up, loving you with her whole heart and soul while getting nothing back, you didn’t think about her? what she’s been going through? that about cover it?”

azriel had never quite been lectured like this by cassian before. he could only nod.

“you watched me get my heart broken over and over again by nesta until she realised. and you.. you.. what is there to think about? what, you don’t want her? what, that maybe she’s great for keeping your bed warm but not as a mate?”

something awful, horrible, cold and heavy and sinking settled into his stomach.

his chest felt hollow, that place where a bond had been for only seconds before he’d silenced it felt like a missing limb now.

the last of the angry mist filling him finally dissipated.

if cassian thought those things, then maybe you-..

“oh, gods..”

“you’re such a dumbass.” cassian scoffed, frowning at him and placing his hands on his hips.

“okay, seriously, cassian. you are reaming my ass today, what the hell?”

“you deserve it!”

he couldn't argue that, all he could do was grumble about it.

he dropped those walls back down, reaching out for the bond and tugging. no reply, like a brick wall. he tried again, this time you had shut him out, and he hated how empty that made him feel. how much he must’ve hurt you by doing that.

“do you think I should-”

“I REALLY DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE STILL DOING HERE.”

“OKAY, OKAY.”

it was enough encouragement, enough to spur him from where he was frozen, not even bothering to unwrap his hands as he took off in a jog.

once again, he was lost to everyone except his own thoughts.

he missed rhysand as he passed his office and called out a greeting, and he missed elain as he flew in and out of the kitchen, he missed nesta who cursed at him for almost running straight into her.

he searched every room for you, coming up empty everywhere but your bedroom.

he was banging on your door, one hand curled into a fist as he shouted your name, refusing to just barge in when he had so clearly been shut out and cut off, but that resolve was wearing thin the longer you didn’t answer him.

“angel, please, I just want to talk, stop shutting me out, c’mon.”

his shoulders were slumping, he hoped they weren’t shaking, as your silent treatment settled a heavy sense of foreboding within him.

“hey, az. what are you doing?” elain’s eyes were narrowed on him, and her arms were crossed over her chest as she took him in.

“hey, elain. I can’t find (y/n), she doesn’t want to talk to me.. I fucked up this morning and I know that and I’m sorry!” his voice rose toward the end of his sentence turning back to face the wood of your door and hoping you’d hear it.”

“az, she’s not in there.”

“you know where she is?” he didn’t even have enough to feel embarrassed as his head whipped to her.

“she went back to autumn a couple of hours ago.” elain only shrugged, because she didn’t have a crushing sense of defeat and loss and agony in her chest as she spoke those words. not like he did upon hearing them.

“she.. I mean, she.. what? why? when?”

elain only shrugged once more.

“I don’t know. I was out doing some early morning gardening before the heat of the day kicked in, and lucien came out in such a panic all of a sudden and told me he had to go back to autumn immediately, and was taking (y/n) with him. he wouldn’t tell me much more, just that he’d be out of touch for a few days. I barely even got a chance to say goodbye to him before they were winnowing out, bags in hand.”

she sighed wistfully, clearly missing her mate dearly, and boy did azriel know how that now felt.

he felt hot, all over, and somehow cold at the same time. his body was aching, in all new ways from the vigorous training, his eyes stung so much it hurt to keep them open and will back the oncoming tears.

“oh, az, don’t worry. they’ll be back soon, I just know it. why don’t we get you some tea, huh? I just brewed a fresh pot of berries and lemon.”

she reached up, one hand on his shoulder and one on his arm to lead him away. it was comforting, the warmth of her touch and the squeeze she gave, the smile to accompany it. but it wasn’t enough, not even close.

so he sat, with a cup of tea clenched between his hands, warming him slowly from the porcelain as elain rolled out bread dough on the counter behind him.

it was as he took the final sip, staring into the bottom of the blue hand-made mug of feyre’s that elain finally spoke up. the question had been lingering in the air for almost twenty minutes, and he had been delaying it as long as possible.

“do you want to talk about it?”

“not really.”

“talk about it.”

“okay.”

he’d long since given up on arguing with elain, whether it was her seer abilities, eavesdropping, or an uncanny ability to get information out of people, she’d gotten very good at knowing every single piece of gossip, and it was better to tell her himself than let her puzzle it out or hear it from cassian.

“in a nutshell, (y/n) is my mate, and I fucked it all up.”

“yes, well, I’d managed to piece that much together,” she smirked at him, wiping floury hands on her apron and pouring him a new mug of steaming tea, a spoonful of honey dunking into it to follow before she returned to her bread. “why don’t you tell me the rest?”

“she knew. cassian knew. you knew. everyone but me knew, apparently. the mailman and the courtiers from spring probably know. it snapped for me this morning, and I freaked out a little bit.” he pinched his fingers together, and then winced, expanding them some more “more than a little bit. I told her I needed to think about us, after basically accusing her of lying to me and implying she was awful for doing that, and then I.. stormed out.”

elain blew out a slow breath, slicing the dough into small cubes before shaping them up in circles. “well, it’s not great, I won’t lie. but, I don’t think she’d just run away from you. she’ll come back, she loves you, azriel, that means loving all the flaws that come with you, like brash decisions and saying the wrong thing in the heat of the moment and storming out.”

he let out an empty laugh at her teasing. somewhere deep down, he could see the logic in it all, but that didn’t stop it from hurting right now.

“oh, az..” she brushed her hands down again, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and propping her chin atop his head, squeezing him lightly. he raised a hand, patting her elbow where it sat on his shoulder and sighing. “you two are going to be just fine, I’m sure of it.”

“are you saying that as my friend or as a seer?”

her silence was answer enough for him and he groaned, head flopping down to sit on his forearms on the table as she only chuckled.

that was how feyre and rhys found him an hour later when they came down for sandwiches made of fresh bread, and he was forced to say it all over again.

then that evening, mor joined everyone for dinner and rhys forced him to reiterate it all over once more as he smirked.

the following morning, nesta gave him a look as she passed him in the corridor, and he knew that cassian had told her, too.

the only reprieve was amren, who simply did not care, and told everyone as much when sensing the foul mood hanging over him.

for three days he moped, every evening making him feel worse and worse.

he was lonely, his bed was cold, his chest was colder, and he felt like his heart wasn’t even beating.

he’d always been confused before when hearing the rumours, the stories of people with rejected or lost mates, and yet now, he understood.

he didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to leave his bed, he wanted to lay, and fester alone, and wait.

azriel had been just fine before, just fine when nobody touched him, nobody told him what he could and couldn't have, when he was moping and broody and he’d never known any different. he was just fine imagining what his life could have been and never having it.

but then he’d had it. he’d had love and affection and touch, he’d had someone make him their priority, he’d had someone to cheer him up on bad days and to make him laugh when he wanted to frown. he’d had someone. and now, he was back to having no one.

it was dinner on the fourth night, as he was sipping on his wine, when the hairs on the back of his neck stood.

his shadows stilled for a split second, swirling in slow motion before becoming frantic.

the front door was opened a moment later. the room around him went silent, all eyes moving to the foyer.

his spine straightened almost painfully as his hands clenched, trying to resist the urge to fly up from his seat and toward you.

a small smile formed on your face as you glanced around upon making it to the kitchen, and as rhysand stood, his legs twitched, wanting to copy. wanting to follow, to make his way to you, to-

“I’m sorry we just disappeared.” lucien sighed, wiping a hand over his face. he looked exhausted, like he’d spent days on end without sleep, he’d rarely seen the male so stressed. you looked worse.

concern and panic flared up within him as he took in the circles under your eyes, the slump of your shoulders like even standing up was exhausting.

“I couldn't say anything until, well, until we knew what had actually happened. no easy way to say it, so, here it is. my father is dead.”

that shocked him, enough that he managed to tear his gaze from you for a second to stare at lucien, jaw dropping like almost everyone else.

elain’s chair screeched back, she was on her feet a moment later, flying towards her mate and into his arms as she mumbled soothing apologies mixed with vague curses about the man, and lucien only chuckled.

“what happened?” mor burst, frowning in an attempt to seem apologetic, he was sure most of the looks around the table were false sympathy. he wasn’t sure that even lucien was all that upset by it.

“officially? sickness. unofficially? assassination.”

gasps sounded around the table, and he didn’t care to take in any of it, frowning when feyre stood from her seat and made her way to you, squeezing your hands in her own, and azriel hated it, because he wanted to be the one holding you.

before he could move, rhys was tapping at his shields, a sharp talon scratching down those mental walls he’d put up.

“lucien, we should talk about it. my office, if you’re willing?”

the redhead only nodded, pressing a kiss to his mate’s head before disentangling himself.

he glanced to his brother, mental conversation taking place, and he knew it was right, no matter how much he hated it. if beron had been assassinated, they needed to talk, and that involved him.

the sympathetic look on rhys’ face did nothing to soothe him, and it was like dragging his body through wet cement as he followed lucien, rhys and cassian out of the dining room and to his office.

for three torturous hours he tried to focus and give his best, and yet you were all he could think about.

you were so close, you were back within the same four walls as he was, you were here, he could talk to you, get to you. he needed to.

as soon as he was free to go, he was outside of your bedroom door, knuckles tapping against the wood until he heard the faint ‘come in’ from the other side.

you were sitting in your bed, only the lamp beside you on.

“azriel, hey. I’ve been waiting for you.”

he couldn't feel any bone in his body as he all but sagged with relief. “you have?”

you only nodded as he took a few steps closer. “we should probably talk.”

well, there goes that relief.

his throat was burning, he felt so exposed and vulnerable and lost.

he was so caught up that he’d never noticed the return of that bond, the reopening of your end, until a wave of reassurance washed down it toward him.

there were tears in his eyes and his laugh was croaky as he rubbed his chest.

“I’m so sorry. I thought you left. I thought you were gone for good, I was so scared you weren’t coming back to me I thought I drove you away, and you have no idea how much that hurt, I couldn't even think. it- it was like my heart was missing from my chest, I love you so much, I can’t be apart from you, okay? I’m sorry, I’m so sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean to make you leave, I didn’t mean to make you sad. not that morning, or the morning after that night you saved my life. I’ll be better, okay? I won’t be so grumpy and I won’t jump to conclusions, and I’ll just tr-”

“oh, oh, az-” he could sense how overwhelmed you were, he was only making it worse, and he watched you kick at the sheets and crawl toward the edge of the bed. “azriel, baby, c’mere.”

you held your hands held out to him, just like they had days ago, and he didn’t make the same mistakes as last time.

he stumbled forward, until your hands could take his face softly, thumbs swiping away the tears that were flowing steadily over his cheeks.

one of his hands closed over your own, the other gripping the opposite wrist.

“I’m so sorry, angel.”

“az, gods, honey, I’d never leave you. I’m sorry, that I had to close the bond, but it was a court-wide lockdown, I was liable for treason if I didn’t. all communication had to be cut off, even lucien to elain.”

he could only nod, he’d known that much, because elain had started to grow just as sad as he’d been as of yesterday morning.

“I’m not going anywhere, ever, okay? one little hiccup isn’t going to ruin what we have. you take as much time as you need to process it, gods know I spent the whole night I was mopping your forehead and checking your pulse was still there processing it.”

you pulled him forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead, and azriel was sure no drug or alcohol or deep breath as he broke the surface of the water had ever felt like this.

“I thought there was no way this moody bat who wants nothing to do with me is my mate.”

he laughed, hands finding your hips, your cheek resting on his temple as you hugged him close. “I’m sorry I was so rude the morning after.”

“that’s okay, I already forgave you for that a while ago. can you forgive me for not telling you for so long?”

“I already forgave you days ago. I’ve been in agony missing you ever since.”

you pulled away, despite his protests, kissing each of his damp cheeks gently.

“do you want to get ready for bed and join me? I’ve almost finished my chapter.”

“you sure you still want me?”

“I’m never going to stop wanting you, azriel. you’re mine, and I’m yours. I love you.”

“I love you.”

azriel was quick to strip down, all the way to his boxers, leaving his leathers over the back of the chair and his boots by the door.

you were still kneeling and looking at him fondly, and the air around him seemed to warm with affection, every nerve in his body relaxing.

“you ready for bed?”

“..yes.”

“you want some really clingy cuddles tonight?”

“I don’t think I could be close enough to you tonight if we actually became one person.”

he wasn't sure where such a confession came from, but you laughed at him, big smile and eyes closing and he didn’t care. if bearing his soul to you meant relaxed laughing and pretty smiles and feeling like this, he’d tell you every soppy, silly thought he’d ever had.

while your eyes were closed, he moved, all but tackling you onto the bed and burying his face into your neck.

it only made you laugh more, hands gripping at his shoulders, squirming as his hands ran up and down your sides to tickle, pinned underneath him and breathless as you giggled.

“az! what about the covers, my book, the lights!”

“don’t care.” he pressed a kiss to the crook between your neck and shoulder, finally relenting his tickling to simply lay on you instead.

love and playful joy and the feeling of fullness flushed down the bond, filling his chest as you caught your breath under him.

you shifted again.

“az, honey, please-”

“I love it when you call me that.” he groaned, nudging his nose against your jaw, cheeks aching from the smile on his lips. you only tugged at a handful of the covers under your bodies.

“I'm gonna’ freeze in the night, I’m not made of the same stuff you are.”

“that’s what happens when you wear these little nightgowns to bed.”

pinching some of the silk slip between his fingers, he jerked it lightly, and you smacked his hand away.

“they’re comfy! and besides, do you know how hot it gets in bed with you?” he pushed himself up, unable to stop the cassian-like smirk on his face as a very cassian-like joke passed through his mind. he needed to stop spending so much time with his brother. “oh, cut it out. you are like a furnace, but above the covers, I’m all exposed, my legs will get cold.”

“no winning with you, huh?”

“you’re gonna’ have to get used to losing arguments if you’re gonna’ be with me, honey.”

he sighed dramatically, despite the skip of his heart which he knew you felt too, and he lifted himself up, pulling back the covers so you could get beneath, and settling himself in beside you.

with the book gone and the lights out, azriel shuffled himself closer, resting one scarred palm on your cheek in the dark. “now can we cuddle?”

“yes, shadowsinger, illyrian warrior, terrifying-” he scoffed, leaning in to cut you off with a kiss, one which was cut short by your giggling.

“wasn’t it you that told me none of those things define me, and they don’t stop me being worthy of love?”

“yes, my love, my honey, my mate-”

“much better.”

“we can cuddle now.”

he tugged you closer, close enough that his forehead touched yours, cheeks on the same pillow, and he’d never felt happier than this moment, bond singing between your bodies.

after a moment, you moved, head tucking under his chin, legs tangling, and he circled his arms right around you, one wing following.

azriel felt like he was practically melting into you, as the slow traces of your fingers up and down his arm drained away every bit of stress from his body.

“everything is different with you, az. when you hold me, I feel so safe. I feel protected, like nothing can go wrong in the world.”

his heart swelled and he dipped enough to kiss your hairline in response, your nose following, before his lips were meeting with your own.

it was fragile, and soft, and perfect. everything he’d ever wanted.

it was the kind of kiss that promised every day, not the passion of one night or the teasing of something more. this kiss spoke to every part of him, it filled his heart, made him proud and happy and contented, and he loved it.

“when you hold me, I feel like I can finally be vulnerable. like someone sees every single part of me, and loves me. I don’t feel scared to show you every part of my soul. I am completely and wholly yours.”

#azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel/reader #azriel x reader #azriel/you #azriel x you #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar/you #acotar/reader #a court of thorns and roses

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missmugiwara · 8 months

Text

What A Relief

Summary: fem!reader x Sanji // You convince Sanji to have a friends-with-benefits relationship with you, but it's not like you want to actually date him, right? Right? Warning: 18+, NSFW, smut, unprotected sex, implied sex, very suggestive, friends-with-benefits thing going on Note: I am weak for Sanji! Please enjoy!

It was so stupid.

You knew there was indeed a possibility that this could happen, but you still went ahead and did it. You got too presumptuous. Too confident. You flew too close to the sun. And then you got burned.

But how did it all start?

If you reflected back on it, you weren't entirely sure yourself. It was surprising especially in the way that everything had just blurred together. To put it into filthy words, Sanji became the answer to your booty calls. Okay, well… if you put it more eloquently, you somehow had managed to develop some sort of friends-with-benefits relationship with none other than the cook himself. If you put it even more simply, Sanji became a weekly event - as in, the person whom you could have sex with without any strings attached.

A while back, you set out to sea with the Straw Hat Pirates. They were a wonderful group of friends - they protected you, made treasurable memories with you, and truly accepted you for who you were. You had no complaints whatsoever. As of late, you were becoming a bit bored. A bit needy. Needy in the ways that required a certain relief in the form of pleasure. The thought of having a romantic relationship crossed your mind once or twice, but being a pirate and constantly moving about meant there was no room for that. You accepted that wholeheartedly, but could you somehow attain the romance you sought out?

So a crazy idea crossed your mind.

Could you get one of these fine Straw Hat men into bed? You flustered at the thought of it, and you could tell it was a wild idea when you felt hot and checked the nearest mirror to see your ridiculous expression. How about Luffy? No, he was your captain! He saved your butt on your hometown of Dressrosa. That would have felt too awkward. Then Zoro? Hm, well, he definitely seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn't mind doing that and could keep it a secret… but you were too damn nervous to insinuate such an idea to him without feeling utterly humiliated. Franky? He seemed the most mature - wait. Never mind. Him, Luffy, and Zoro were definitely not mature. Usopp, then? No, an instant no. He still struggled to be brave time to time. How could he possibly not chicken out if you asked him?

Hmm.

What about Sanji?

He was so sweet. A good friend. Very good-looking. You never felt embarrassed in front of him. He would treat you so well, and he already did. Plus, he always made goo goo eyes at Nami, Robin, and literally any other woman. It was perfect. Knowing this, he wouldn't get attached to you, and you wouldn't get attached to him… because that's not what you were looking for, right? Exactly!

So when you finally mustered up the courage to ask Sanji, he really was shocked. You stayed behind one evening to help him clean up dishes after dinner. When everyone left you two to complete your chores, that's when you asked. Naturally, you were nervous, face on fire, and averting his gaze. There was a range of emotions mostly on Sanji's part. His jaw dropped. Then after a few seconds (when you were afraid you had broke him), he had launched himself across the room due to the sheer force of a nosebleed. After tending to this nosebleed and him sputtering over and over how he really did not deserve you - the goddess, the angel, etc. - he agreed.

"Oh, I know I'm asking for a lot… but, I would really love if it were you. I trust you so much."

It was kind of cute in the way his eyes sparkled at your words, and a blush fluttered over his cheeks while he had tissues sticking out of his bloody nostrils. To be honest, you wouldn't have had it any other way. It was quite comical. It took a moment longer for him to respond. You gently smiled and held him in your arms as he laid on the floor after his great lift-off.

Finally, Sanji sat himself up. Grabbing your hand, he said, "I am honored, my sweet, and I promise to make you feel like an absolute queen."

Those words were enough to send your heart racing. Sanji was the best. As you two sat there on the floor of the kitchen, faces flustered and having Sanji's head in your lap - you had reminded yourself again that this was simply fun between two friends. That's it. No romance.

You already knew Sanji was a man of his word, but he sure delivered. The first night together was akin to something out of a romance novel, and it was absolute bliss. Sanji removed your clothes slowly and gently, never allowing a single wrinkle to form as he laid them down. He always asked for permission before he did anything, and he always reminded you that if you changed your mind then you could stop at any time. He truly was a gentleman and kept his promise through and through. He whispered soft, sultry things into your ears. When he got more cocky, he'd whisper more sensuous things - things like how he was going to make you sing, make you moan, make you sigh out his name. And every time he did get you to moan, he'd whisper how your noises brought him to heaven. Your heart beat against your ribcage as if it was trying to break free, but you kept ignoring it because all you could focus on was just being his friend.

However, it was such a sweet, addicting high.

His touch was sensual and soft on your skin, the way his hands held you gently as if you were made from glass. Years in the kitchen must have been why his expert hands were so graceful when they roamed, and when they roamed to more inmate areas on your body, you would let out a gentle gasp against his mouth. You had never been held the way Sanji held you.

Kisses were sweet and never done without feeling. They could have brought you to your knees if you already weren't rolling around in bed. Sanji's mouth tasted like cigarettes, but you could care less as the delicious noises of your lips smacking whenever they met or parted took over your brain. Such sweet, velvety kisses were exchanged all night long between pants, between moans, between soft words you and Sanji murmured to each other, between thrusts of Sanji's hips. That incredible high wreaked havoc in your brain when Sanji thrusted over and over into your hips. Your toes curled, you wrapped your arms tightly around him and dug your nails into his back. You begged for him to go faster and harder, but in response you only got a low chuckle from the cook that embarrassed you and exhilirated you deeply.

"I couldn't," he smirked against your skin, "I don't want to be rough and hurt you."

You grit your teeth, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. You let out a low growl as your hand grabbed his hair. This teasing from Sanji was so unexpected - you didn't know there was this side of him.

"Please!" you breathed out, "Just… for me? Please!" you whined.

"Well, who am I to deny such a lady's request?"

Sanji seemed to really enjoy your whining because with that, he catered to your whim and every one after that. He was such a great listener. Sanji continued on and on until you had reached your final high of that evening and climaxed. The room spun, your body feeling hot and heavy. The two of you collapsed onto the bed in the girls' room, taking a few moments of peaceful silence to catch your breaths until you both had relaxed a bit more. You were incredibly thankful your crewmates had gone into town and left you and Sanji to guard the ship alone because you two had laid for a long time in bed after that. Just talking about your dreams, about life, anything really. It felt like hours, and in actuality it really was.

When you finally told Sanji you wanted to get dressed, he got up before you could even fling the sheets over your body. With a wave of his hand, he promptly stated he would make you a pot of tea. He got dressed and then was out the door. You waited until he was completely out of the room before your smile faded into a frown.

So stupid.

You should have known you were going to fall hard for the cook. This kept up for some time. Once a week turned into a couple times a week and then several times a week. You and Sanji kept it secret pretty well. It was something to look forward to as hard as it was to find the privacy. Soon, these little flirty instances were beginning to appear - like a secret signal. You'd sneak past Sanji to cup your hand to his ass to give him a hint you were hungry. He would smirk at you more often.

But hold on - what in the world was wrong with you?

The plan was not to become romantically attached. And the exact opposite of that was happening! You were head over heels. Sanji made you feel so special, and he geninely enjoyed the time spent with you. You were learning all sorts of things about each other and forming a closer bond.

You know what was even more stupid? You literally could not act like a normal person in front of Sanji anymore. Sometimes you dodged him and walked the other way if you ran into him, which was quite often as you were stuck on a ship for most of the time. Your confident vixen attitude was shaken - you couldn't dare touch his cute butt again. You would avoid his gaze. When he passed you a plate at dinner and your fingers accidentally brushed, you would mentally scream in your mind. It took all the strength not to fall apart.

Oh, but why was this happening?!

What were you afraid of? Being emotionally hurt? Afraid of how much of a ladies man he was if you wanted to start a relationship? You could tell Sanji was becoming concerned because you asked for him less and less until it just stopped one day. Everyone could tell you weren't acting normal as you would coop yourself up in the girls room - denying Luffy if he asked you to come play, taking your meals by yourself amongst other little things. Everyone came to check on you. Even Chopper was the most concerned, thinking you were sick. And Chopper was right, but it was lovesickness, and there was nothing he could do to help. It took everything to shoo everyone away.

Oh, but that Robin - who was too smart for her own good sometimes - had finally found you sneaking off to the kitchen one night for a late snack. She could not have been sleeping if she noticed you left the room and then somehow notify Sanji. It wasn't a surprise that she knew. Initially you would have been mortified, but if it had to be Robin then you felt at ease.

So you were digging around in the fridge, not even noticing Sanji entered the room until he called your name. This caused you to flinch and, in attempts to stand up suddenly, you hit your head on the nearest shelf in the fridge. Promplty, you slammed the door shut and gave him a forced grin. Sanji was no fool though. As you reluctantly greeted him and made a mad dash for the door, he swiftly stepped over to block it as you bumped headfirst into him. Sanji looped one arm around your waist as the other caught your wrist when you pressed your arms up to his chest to push him off.

You could feel your face heating up and your heart thundering in your ears. For a few seconds, you both stood there in awkward sielnce, waiting for somebody to do something.

"Are you… avoiding me?"

Sanji wasted no time in getting to the point. You didn't like how he asked that question - he sounded so hurt. Your lips trembled, and you felt so damn frustrated that you could cry then and there. You never wanted to hurt him! But it's not like you had anywhere special to go, so… you realized you probably should explain yourself.

"Yes." you answered quietly.

Sanji let out a deep sigh, and he moved so that he could grab both your arms. Gently, he pulled you away from him to stare into your eyes. He gasped when he saw you actually were crying. You sniffled and frowned at him, brows furrowed together in dismay as you waited for him to speak. It was as if he instantly knew. As soon as Sanji spoke, he was referring to the current status of your relationship.

"Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you, my angel?"

"No!" you responded immediately, "No… you've been perfect. I just…" Sanji leaned forward, using his finger to gently wipe the tears collecting at your lower eyelid. It was cheesy, it was cute, it was freaking great! You grabbed his hand and turned your head from him.

"This!" you squeezed his hand, "This… stuff you do. I can't keep lying to myself anymore."

Were you making sense? It was all garbled. You finally let go of Sanji's hand, only to have him move his hands to the base of where your jaw met your neck. He tilted your head upwards to look at him. You knew you were making no sense, but Sanji stayed calm and cool.

"What do you mean? You know you can tell me anything."

You let out a sigh, mustering up the courage to look him straight in the eye.

"Look, I really, really like you. I said no strings attached… but I changed my mind. I want more. I want us to go on a date. I want us to actually be together."

With that you snapped your eyes shut, fearing of how he might respond. Would he be okay with that? This man who craved any woman? You waited for what seemed like an eternity, but when you felt his hand cup the side of your face and motion you to look up at him… you realized there was such a look in his eyes that was indescribable.

"I would love nothing more than to be yours."

A smile lit up your tear-stricken face as you clapped your hands over his - still gently caressing your face, "Really?"

Sanji gently pulled your face closer, a smirk playing at his lips.

"Really."

There was a pause.

"What a relief!"

And Sanji gasped when you suddenly grabbed the back of his head to smash your lips against his. He melted into the kiss, but when you released him after a few seconds - he had the biggest grin. You just stared at him so sweetly, brushing a strand of his golden locks from his face as he stood in awe like a lovesick fool.

"So… can we…? You know? I mean, unless you don't want to!"

You stroked his cheek with your thumb and let out a sigh after a roll of your eyes. Oh, Sanji - the poor thing. You had him on a leash, and he worshipped the ground you walked on. As you gently grabbed his hand and led him to the door, you smirked.

"You're lucky I like you so much."

#one piece fanfiction #op x reader #sanji x you #sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #op fanfic #one piece x reader #mugi writes

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denileisariver · 1 month

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imagine bruce catching you humping a batman plushie <3

dick comes home one day with a massive box filled with superhero merch, the rest of the family emptying it out quickly, sporting their favorite heroes memorabilia.

at first, bruce doesn't think much of it. he thinks it's cute that they want to show their support, showing love to the people they grew up to be inspired by. that is up until he realizes none of them at all have anything that is remotely dedicated to batman whatsoever.

dick and his stupid superman hoodie, jason with wonderwoman joggers, duke with flash shoes, barbara with dinah's band on a t-shirt, stephanie with a damn green arrow cup. seriously? green arrow?

it makes him grumpier than usual, highkey lowkey insecure because while he is gothams beloved hero, he isn't their hero. he doesn't acknowledge his family besides a grunt here or a shrug there, going nonverbal and isolating himself because he's jealous of the other members of the justice league and is too much of a hard ass to admit it.

so he decides to go to the only person he feels that he can confide in without judgment. you. bruce had been away from you for way too long, even avoiding you because he felt that his reaction was childish, and it really wasn't the big deal he was making it out to be.

so after a couple of days of him wallowing in his self-pity, he goes up to your room after patrol, knowing you usually stood up until late hours of the night waiting for the families return, even though he specifically told you not to.

he isn't aware of what you're doing on the other side of the door, wearing one of bruce's old sweatshirts that his scent still lingered on, and a pair of batman panties that you bought discreetly, before dick had even brought all the other superhero merch to the manor.

you're grinding your precious cunt on the face of a batman plushie that you did take from the box, whimpering mindless babbles of how much you missed bruce, how much you needed him.

you don't notice him opening your bedroom door, completely oblivious that he's staring at you slack-jawed, his cock twitching in excitement in his suit. bruce's eyes follow the curve of your ass that looked so perfect, covered in batman logos all over it. then catching the pointy bat-ears that stuck out from underneath you, moving in cadence with the rock of your hips.

oh. so this is what you do when he's not there.

he guesses that you must've been doing this for a while now, because your back is arching and your movements become increasingly sloppy, toes curling and making a mess of the plush beneath you. he curses to himself a bit in a small whisper, palming the buldge in his pants that was begging to be released.

"that's it, princess. make yourself cum,"

the sound of his voice makes you jump, whining in surprise. you get all flustered, embarrassment replacing how horny you were, almost. batting your lashes at him, you're unsure if you should continue, but bruce tuts in disapproval, urging you to keep going.

"did i tell you to stop?"

you waste no more time, not wanting to annoy him in case he decided to make you get off without his help. it doesn't take long at all, your clit swollen and sensitive from repeatedly rubbing it on the poor stufie, the friction quickly sending you over the edge. you bend over, both because your legs are weak and tired out and to give bruce a better view of your desperation.

your panties stick to your pussy because they're so soaked, outlining the pretty folds of it, your cunt fluttering around nothing. bruce pulls at your underwear, the fabric lifting and going between your tiny seam, your labia wet and exposed for him. the action emits a small moan from you, gently swaying your ass in front of him, hoping to entice him enough to fuck you. which it does.

he squeezes one of your asscheeks with a large hand, grabbing the batman plushie from underneath you and inspecting it. it's damp, the smell of your arousal filling his nostrils. he has to resist licking your slick off of it, but he doesn't see the point in doing so when he has the real thing right in front of him.

so he tosses it to the side, grabbing and flipping you over so you're straddling his chest. his calloused hands grope at your thighs, pulling you a little closer to his mouth.

"if you wanted to ride my face, all you had to do was ask, sweetheart."

you never been more grateful in your life for being a greedy little slut than you are now.

a/n: yes this was inspired by that one webtoon :p

#batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman #bruce wayne #smut #batfam #bruce wayne x reader smut #batman smut #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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joachimnapoleon · 5 months

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My Napoleon Review

I really wanted to like this movie. When it was first announced, I was one of the people in our little community here with a hopefully-optimistic, wait-and-see approach. I wanted to love it the same way I loved Gladiator and Kingdom of Heaven and other historical epics that, despite not being historically accurate, still managed to hook me with good storytelling, excellent casts, and memorable battle scenes and imagery. Ridley Scott's Napoleon has none of the above.

You know what I liked about it? The uniforms. The uniforms looked magnificent and were probably the most accurate aspect of the movie. Almost like Scott had help from historians, but that can't be the case, because Scott says he didn't actually need historians to make Napoleon.

What I was not expecting from this movie was to be bored. Yet that's what I was, for at least the first hour and a half. I'm honestly just perplexed by this even now. I don't know how it's actually possible to make the life of Napoleon Bonaparte so thoroughly uninspiring and dull, but Scott managed to pull it off.

To be fair, he was aided in this superhuman effort by Joaquin Phoenix. I never in my wildest dreams could've seen him doing such a poor job with his interpretation of Napoleon. But honestly, the fact that he's too old for the role actually ended up being the least of what I disliked about this performance, which was basically everything. The early reports coming out when the movie was still being produced about Phoenix putting a lot of effort into understanding Napoleon's psychology gave me what turned out to be a completely misguided hope. When you read descriptions of Napoleon from his contemporaries, you see an energetic, charismatic, vibrant being who exerted an almost inexplicable magnetism that drew people to him and inspired devotion and admiration, even among his critics. There is nothing even remotely inspiring, energetic, charismatic, or vibrant about Phoenix's grim, dour, monotoned Napoleon. He only ceases being grim and dour to become a clown, or to indicate to Josephine in some undignified manner that he is once again in need of sex (at one point he actually oinks repeatedly). In one scene he literally crawls under the dining room table towards her on all fours, while the embarrassed valets watch.

The relationship between Napoleon and Josephine is totally devoid of chemistry. Kirby's acting was fine, but she was given a trash script to work with. At one of their early meetings, Josephine flat-out spreads her legs in front of Napoleon, invites him to look down, and declares that once he sees what's down there, he'll never stop wanting it. It was the cringiest scene imaginable, and frankly an insult to the real Josephine's memory, as were the pathetic sex scenes. The scene of the official divorce is stripped of any dignity by Scott, who decided to have Josephine randomly chuckle at various points while reading her statement, and then made it even worse by having Napoleon actually slap her across the face.

Even the battle scenes were a joke for the most part, and that was the one area where I was certain this movie would shine. It's the usual fare of Side A charges across an open field at Side B, with no discernible tactics whatsoever. Napoleon yells "Send in the infantry!" Shortly after that, "Send in the cavalry!" Corps, regiments etc are just nonexistent; the armies are just big masses hurtling towards each other while the artillery blasts continuously. The Borodino battle scene lasts maybe two minutes and was just disappointing on every level, like damn near everything else in this movie.

Oh, remember that bit from one of the trailers of Napoleon charging headlong, saber drawn? That actually occurs during the Borodino scene. The battle during which real-life Napoleon was uncharacteristically lethargic (and possibly ill) and barely left his tent. And then to top it off, Scott also has Napoleon ride into the fray during the Waterloo scene, and start cutting English soldiers down with his saber like Mel Gibson's William Wallace in Braveheart. I almost fell out of my chair laughing.

The guy they cast to play Wellington appeared to be at least 60 years old. Christopher Plummer he was not. I'm actually planning to watch Waterloo sometime this weekend as a pallet-cleanser.

I imagine the eventual four hour director's cut Scott has spoken of will flesh the narrative out more, but I'm not even sure I'm interested in seeing it after this. I can only hope the rumored Spielberg HBO series on Napoleon will transpire and put in the effort that Scott was not willing to.

Well, the good news is that Rod Steiger is no longer my least favorite Napoleon.

#Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Ridley Scott #movies

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anxiousnerdwritings · 11 months

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Himbo!Baratheon!Reader except it’s during the HOTD Timeline? Like them being the only son of Borros Baratheon and fostered by the Velaryons as Borros was a die-hard Rhaenys supporter before the dance happened, during the succession issue and he thought maybe sending the Reader when he was of age would cheer her up a bit?

Oh, anons, you’ve both read my mind! Yes, I have 1000% thought of Himbo!Baratheon!Reader being a part of the HotD timeline and I can’t quite put my finger on whether it’s a much more worse situation for him than the GoT timeline already is or not. Either way he’s stealing the hearts of men and women alike all over again and is none the wiser to it, as well as forming alliances and friendships with just a smile.

I imagine Himbo!Baratheon!Reader not necessarily being Borros’ firth born but he’s is one and only son and for that Borros favors him immensely. In other words the Reader is the apple to his eye and can easily get what he wants from his father without even trying. Borros would definitely foster the Reader to Rhaenys, she’s the only one he would be willing to send his beloved son too. Not only would it be his way of showing his support to his cousin but also just giving her a piece of family to have by her side, and I can’t express enough just how much Rhaenys would adore Himbo!Reader. She holds such a deep, deep fondness for her cousin’s child and couldn’t be happier that the Reader is with her and her family, growing up alongside Laenor and Laena. Also, you know damn well Himbo!Reader is hyping the fuck out of Rhaenys, telling her how much of a real queen she would have made and that she was done so dirty.

I love the thought of Himbo!Baratheon!Reader being able to really get Rhaenys to laugh and smile. Like, she could be completely stone faced, cold hearted bitch face to the max only for Himbo!Reader to walk in and she has nothing but the brightest and most genuine smile because of his mere presence. Also, Laenor and Laena would grow up both harboring massive crushes on the Reader. And I have no doubt that Borros and Rhaenys have already discussed betrothing Himbo!Reader and Laena to each other. That is until Rhaenyra comes into the picture and immediately decides that Himbo!Reader is going to be hers, whether he be her lover or her husband.

Himbo!Reader would be so close to both Laenor and Laena. I have no doubt that the Reader finds out about Laenor’s preference for men and he couldn’t careless about it, it wouldn’t tarnish anything between him and the Reader whatsoever. And the Reader would promise to keep his secret while also totally being Laenor’s wingman (similar to how he would be with Renly). The only thing about it is that Himbo!Reader is completely and utterly clueless to Laenor’s affections towards him. Also, you can’t change my mind that Himbo!Baratheon!Reader wouldn’t be Laenor’s first time if he asked him to, although the Reader would be completely under the impression that he’s just doing his best bro a favor and nothing more to it.

When it comes to Rhaenyra, I imagine her really meeting the Reader for the first time at the turned that takes place at the beginning of the series. Like, Himbo!Baratheon!Reader is absolutely fucking everybody’s shit up but it isn’t until it’s the Reader going against Daemon where the real anticipation happens, only for Himbo!Reader to fuck Daemon’s whole world up. Not only is that when Rhaenyra’s interest was piqued, but so was Daemon’s.

Not to mention, since the Reader is with the Velaryons then he would have fought alongside Daemon against Crabfeeder and it’s then that Daemon bears witness to Himbo!Reader’s incredible battle strategy and fighting prowess. And to say he’s hooked would be an understatement.

I just can’t help but imagine yanderes Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron with Himbo!Baratheon!Reader. Especially when Aemond loses his eye and that whole ordeal. One thing I can say for sure is that Himbo!Baratheon!Reader protects Rhaenyra from getting hurt, but instead of stopping Alicent before she can do anything he just steps between the two women and instead takes the dagger completely but he would be completely unaffected by it. Like, the man doesn’t acknowledge that he’s been stabbed whatsoever, he’s just focused on trying to make things a little better. He would be talking gently and soothingly to Alicent, trying to calm her all the while he’s got this dagger sticking out of him and everyone else is freaking out about it.

#anxious answers #yandere rhaenys targaryen #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere daemon targaryen #yandere laenor velaryon #yandere laena velaryon #yandere house of the dragon #yandere game of thrones #yandere house of the dragon concept #yandere game of thrones concept #yandere concept

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brabblesblog · 2 months

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𝕽𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗 𝖞𝖊 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖋𝖔𝖗𝖒𝖊𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘.

Ch 3: An Empty Throne

A sequel to Whither is thy beloved gone? (AO3)

After the events of ‘Whither is thy beloved gone?’ Lord Astarion Ancuńin and his consort wife navigate their relationship anew. The ghosts of the past - his, hers, and theirs - threaten to unravel everything they’ve worked for.

Ban confronts the Ascendant on his subterfuge.

Now professionally edited by @editing-by-night

Originally beta'd by @leomonae

Read on AO3.

Masterlist

Astarion by @morebird

Ban entered the study in the morning, slamming the contract down in front of him. Astarion sat at his desk, studiously ignoring her.

“So you found them,” she snapped.

She saw a quick flash of crimson as he looked at her, then his eyes returned to the sheaf of paperwork in front of him, the contract sitting accusingly beside it.

“Whatsoever do you mean, Ban?”

He lifted his quill, tapping the nib against the parchment. He couldn’t seem to make sense of the text, eyes running over the words without registering them properly.

“Oh, come off it,” Ban hissed. Liar. “You sought them out, bought that mirror, fucked me in front of it to distract me-“

She seethed at the memory of Astarion spreading her open in front of that immense mirror he’d bought, telling her what, in hindsight, had been an obvious fucking lie:

I didn’t buy this from your family, if that’s what you’re so concerned about.

Astarion shook his head, clearly frustrated. “I commissioned the damned mirror, yes. But I-”

“What? You didn’t know? The shop and I share the last name!” Ban bit out, crossing her arms.

“It was meant to be a surprise,” he grumbled.

“A surprise? Oh, ‘hey love, here’s a mirror I bought from the family you didn’t want to ever see again’! Is that what your plan was?”

“They still don’t know. I just gave them my name, Ban.” Astarion finally put the quill down, looking up at her. “I wanted to have the information on hand, should you ever desire to do anything with it.” His lips draw into a tight line.

He’d been trying to anticipate her moments of withdrawal, but her anger was something he was still never quite prepared to manage.

Ban deflated, the anger morphing into an all-too-familiar resignation she couldn't say she'd missed. He was right, she supposed. She could simply ignore this, and her family would be none the wiser. But she knew she’d want to see them, to find out what had become of them.

“You could have just told me, Astarion, instead of hiding the information away and waiting until I found the contract myself.”

Astarion flapped a hand at her; the fingers trembling a little too much to give the intended effect. “And get this reaction? You can see why I was reluctant, darling.”

Ban scoffed at him. She looked down to the table where the contract sits. The name emblazoned across the top of the parchment looks back, mocking her.

Glasscraft and Son

Astarion watched Ban, noting the tense set of her shoulders. The guilt gnawed at him and he chewed on the inside of his cheek, a fang tearing the skin and drawing blood.

“You could simply discard the information, Ban,” he said, the snark slowly slipping away from his tone. “Now that you have seen it, it’s for you to use as you see fit.”

She drew in a deep breath, patience trickling away with every passing second. “You think it that simple, Astarion? One look, and I can decide whether I want to see them or not? Whether I want to know what happened to them or not? I don’t even know if they’re alive!” The shop, after all, could be run by some other family now.

“I could help with that,” he managed to say, his tone clipped. Uncertainty flooded his features; a look that would be rather unbecoming for the Ascendant, if he’d still let that side of him rule his life.

Ban watched as Astarion finally put the quill and papers away, pushing his seat back to stand. He regarded her for a moment, his eyes obviously doing what he always seemed to do nowadays - searching her, trying to read her. She liked it most of the time, appreciated that he tried, but at the moment it did nothing but intensify her pique.

A small click of his tongue, barely audible to her, and he took a small step forward. Close enough that should she want to, she could close the gap but far enough that she had space to leave. “I met him. I could tell you-”

“Oh!” she sneered, all venom and mock surprise. “I’ll now have to thank you for being so, so kind as to gather information for me, sweet Astarion.”

She saw the barb hit his heart; his pupils widening in a fraction of a second, face falling slack. Astarion looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed heavily. At any other time she thought she’d feel guilty, but the anger roiling through her drowned everything else out. Even the idea that she should feel guilty merely served to enrage her further, driving her next words out without thought.

“Since you want to be so kind, then, my love, tell me: what did you discover?” There wasn’t any reason not to find out, not at this point. She eyed him dispassionately as he shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

“The proprietor is named Roderich Glasscraft,” Astarion said, with forced calmness. “I assume he would be your father.”

The hurt simmering in him had only grown, hidden underneath the now carefully-schooled expression; but even if Ban saw it, she cared little at this moment.

If anything, a not-so-small, irascible part of her wanted to twist the knife even further, the savage desire for petty revenge suffusing her.

“That he is,” Ban nodded. “Still a little bald shit, is he not? And what of my dearest mother?”

Arlette. Mom. Who’d always demanded the respect she thought she was owed, because I birthed you. The memories flowed in, Ban’s lip curling into a snarl in response.

Astarion shifted again. He retreated to settle back into his chair, apparently giving up on his rather futile attempt to offer her comfort. Crossing one leg over the other, he leveled a look at her.

“He mentioned her, but she wasn’t present.” The crossed leg bounced erratically. “There was also talk of your sibling.”

At that, Ban’s anger abated for a moment, a small sigh escaping her. “Yes, my younger brother. The only one in my sorry family whom I actually regret leaving.” She couldn’t help the next question. “How is he?”

Astarion looked uneasy. “Rode-” He ran a hand through his curls, looking exhausted and strung out. “He said your brother hasn’t taken a wife yet.” There was something else at the tip of his tongue, however, and he bit his lip.

“There’s something more, Ban...” A mere hunch, but Astarion had always been good at reading people, a skill honed over two centuries.

“More.” She sneered again. “Just say it then! Why even dither like that? You’ve already done it - don’t act like some sad puppy now. The Vampire Ascendant wouldn’t - I know you’re still in there, prick!”

Astarion recoiled as if slapped; his jaw clenched and his mind reeled, trying to come up with something, anything to placate her. “Love, pl-”

“Shut up!”

She knew she was being unreasonable, cruel, saw that the conversation iwas hurting Astarion more and more, but she found she didn’t care at the moment; there was only indignation, the white-hot mixing of rage and a creeping sense of being violated. She wanted to keep digging in, to see just how much he could take; see if he’d revert to his old ways, and fight fire with fire.

The Ascendant made an appearance, Astarion’s eyes narrowing sharply, his lips contorting into a sneer. He raised an index finger. “I’ll have you know, Ban,” he began, venom lacing every word. But then he paused for the briefest moment. He took a quick breath, and-

…And just like that, the Ascendant was gone. The fight seemed to fizzle out of him as he collected himself. He let his breath out slowly, face rearranging into a neutral, guarded expression, his hands clenched into fists.

“Your father seemed aggrieved by something, whenever he spoke of your brother.” Carefully said, enunciated slowly and without allowing any feelings to show.

“Aggrieved?” Ban laughed, the sound loud and completely without humor. “My father probably disapproved of something trivial he did, like folding clothes in a way that he didn’t find satisfactory.”

“Ban.” Astarion’s eyes locked onto hers. “It wasn’t that. I think-”

“Fuck what you think!” she screamed. “This is what you do, isn’t it? Assume you know better, because - what - you’re the man of the house? Because you can buy anyone?”

He almost lost control at that, lips curling angrily. “I have hurt you, kept you, used you - but I have never bought anyone; you of all people ought to know that.” His chest heaved, jaw working as he attempted to calm down. “And am I not attempting to fix this? Do I not try so hard to atone for my sins?” He sighed, all the fight in him having evaporated at her accusation.

“As wretched as I am, love, I am not that.”

His anger dissolved away - Ban could almost see it leaving his body. His eyes lost their hardness, and he sagged back against the chair. He covered his face with his hands, obviously resigned.

“You have me confused with someone else.”

The tone was quiet, despondent. There was no mistaking the pain.

Ban stared at Astarion for a long moment. He was right - instead of her husband she saw him, a small man by any measure but immeasurably powerful to her back then.

Roderich had never been a physically imposing sort, even as a younger man, but he’d always had an air about him that had made people inclined to respect him.

It was a respect often mercilessly exploited to great success - a ruthless businessman, rising in the ranks of the artisan guild through various machinations and dealings that had pervaded - tainted - Ban’s childhood. He’d passed those lessons along to her in the hopes that she would help her brother take over the business one day, or help her future husband run his own; lessons that had helped her consolidate power at the Ascendant’s behest, in the first months after they’d moved into the palace.

“I don’t have you confused,” she snapped. “You’re not him, but you’re close.” She wasn’t sure if she should elaborate, but did so anyway. “Power-hungry, manipulative, self-centered bastards.”

Astarion lifted his head from his hands to look at her, realizing exactly who Ban saw in him when she shut him out.

She could see him trying to read her again, his eyes darting across her face with their usual thoroughness.

“Exactly why I wished to know about them,” he replied with preternatural composure, hands clasping together on top of the still raised knee. Astarion’s gaze slid away from her as he looked to the side again. “To know them is to know you, and to know you is to know what you require of me.”

“I don’t need your drivel, Astarion.”

She’d had enough, wanted - needed out of this conversation. She didn’t want to let herself acknowledge that he was right, that their relationship would benefit from him knowing exactly what pitfalls to avoid. Didn’t want to acknowledge that she was blaming him for past deeds he was never made aware were painful reminders for her.

“I’m heading out,” Ban continued, when he didn't answer. She grabbed the contract from the table. From the corner of her eye she could see him keeping his eyes fixed upon nothing in particular, avoiding looking at her. He sat stiffly, almost painfully still, chest seemingly not even rising or falling - frozen, as though he was made of marble, except for the erratically bouncing leg.

A small breath escaped him. “Then I’ll see you when you come home,” he said, trying and failing to hide the question in his voice, tone rising at the end of the statement.

Will you come home?

Ban stared at the shop from across the street. It looked like it always had - squat and unpleasant to the eye - but now it also looked worn. The dust on the windows was of particular interest - her father would have never tolerated that back in the day. For a moment she almost started walking; her legs wanted to drag her forwards, through that door, back through memory and to the people she’d sworn she would never see again.

Days spent in the shop, helping out. Logging inventory, deliveries, receipts. She remembered running around the mirrors in the stockroom, delighted to see multiple Bans running alongside her - her only friends, save for her brother, in what little time she had been allowed to be a child.

A few happy years, before her parents decided to begin training her for what they’d said she was meant to be - a businessman’s wife, capable of assisting with the running of his shop as well as being in charge of his household, skilled at all the social niceties needed to help her husband elevate his standing in society - a relatively useful thing, though not her choice, but they were only surface level qualifications to ensure she’d be successful in her real role…

A pawn to be married off. A name on a contract to bind family fortunes together.

She stayed rooted to the spot for a long time.

The moon shone brightly when Ban finally returned to the palace. She walked in to find Astarion lounging on his throne, arms draped over the armrests, his legs spread slightly. The scent of alcohol filled her nose as she approached him; she sighed. That would explain the unbuttoned shirt and the steely, teasing, not-quite-focused gaze that locked onto her.

“You’re drunk,” she said, arms crossing as she came to a halt in front of the dais.

“Slightly inebriated.” He tilted his head at her, expression coy. “I didn’t expect you home so soon.”

In truth, he hadn’t expected her to come home at all. Fingers tapped on the armrests in a rhythmic pattern, and he leaned forward.

“You were asking for the Ascendant,” he crooned, ignoring the lump in his throat. That wasn’t him, not all of him; he knew that now, she’d taught him that. He’s Astarion - always was, is, and will be. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t bring the monster out to play, if that was what she wanted.

Anything she wanted from him, she would receive. Including this.

A look of consternation crossed her face. “That’s not what I meant.” Ascending the dais quickly, she placed herself between his legs; he sighed but shifted them farther apart to accommodate her.

“What did you mean, then?” His gaze hardened and fingers wrapped around her wrist, nails digging in a little tightly. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

He tugged her abruptly, pulling her down and pressing his lips to hers in a single, well-practiced move. It was rough, his tongue pressing in without much preamble, merely seeking to consume her.

Did she want this? This painful, angry, meaningless sex they used to have? He thought he knew the answer, knew that this was wrong, but the ache of worrying all day at the prospect of losing her again had sharpened his edges significantly.

“Stop,” she gasped against his lips; he immediately stilled, pulling away from her.

Astarion’s bared chest heaved. “Ban, I-”

I’m sorry. Words he’d never learned to utter, and so they got stuck in his throat.

She offered him a sad smile, understanding. “No. I’m sorry. I was, am, still upset, but I should never have lashed out at you like I did. Can we- if you still want this, can we try again?”

“Were you going to leave?” The words came out of him in a desperate rush, spitting them out before he could reconsider.

He said it before he thought, hands gripping the armrests to hide their trembling. His one greatest fear, the one thing he could not endure. He worried it was happening again, that he was bound to lose her again - she was here right now but what if she started slipping away again bit by bit like sand slipping through his fingers like before and he didn’t want to think about it because she won’t leave but what if-

“Please. I need to know,” he choked out, barely managing it around the swirling chaos of his mind. His eyes shut, heart racing, frantic and frightened and trapped inside his ribcage and everything’s too tight-

And then her. He felt strong, muscled arms wrap around him, holding him close. Her scent filled his nostrils and he breathed in deep.

I’ll give you anything you want; just don’t leave, don’t let me be alone again. Never again.

He heard a whimper; he wasn’t even sure if it was him. He heard her shush him, heard her whisper, her breath tickling his sensitive ears.

“I wasn’t leaving, love. I just needed air. I’m never leaving you again. I’m sorry I left without making sure you knew I’d be back.”

The words soothed little of the panic drowning him, but even that felt like a boon. Part of him found this ironic: here he was, in the seat of his power, so utterly powerless against the weight of his feelings for her. Not that he minded. Not that it would ever be any different. Not that anything else ever mattered.

“I…” Another rough intake of breath, and Astarion forced his eyes to open. She was staring at him, arms still around him, eyes full of worry. She’d pulled away from the embrace, but only far enough to see his face.

“Astarion-” Ban began, but he interrupted before she could finish.

“I’m… fine.” he managed to say it, although he knew he wasn’t fooling anyone. He wrapped his hands around Ban’s wrists, gently prying them away from him. He wanted her touch more than anything, but he didn’t deserve it.

Not when he’d lied to her, not when he’d just grabbed her for a kiss he worried she mightn’t have wanted. Not when he was… this.

These vacillating thoughts raced through his mind and he attempted to rise, to push past her and go to ground somewhere - anywhere - else. He didn’t deserve those worried eyes, that kind touch. He never had, what was he thinking, he was a monster, he was never enough.

But before he could stand and escape, Ban’s hand was on his chest, the touch cool yet comforting against his too-hot skin. “Love,” she murmured, and it was softer than he’d ever heard it since the rite; it gave him pause.

“Sit,” she said. “Let me help.”

He was powerless against her, stilling under her touch. Nervous eyes tracked her and he licked his lips, settling back down on his throne. Ban’s hand followed his chest, palm still pressed over his hammering heart.

“May I?” She inclined her head towards his lap and all he could do was nod. Yes, of course, yes. He’d love nothing more than to have her close, to remind himself that he still had her. He watched her lift her skirt and settle over his thigh, her rump a pleasant press of weight on him.

He wrapped one arm around her waist, feeling the cold, smooth skin slide against his fingertips. She was here, she was on his lap - even asked to be there. He didn’t dare feel relieved quite yet, but her mere presence ensured it slowly seeped in regardless. She shivered a little at his touch; his hand paused midway on its path across her back and he waited.

Ban’s hand glided from his chest to his chin, tilting it up so he’d meet her gaze. “Astarion,” she said, her tone still unusually tender. She could tell he needed the gentleness, that he was at the end of his rope, that she had scared him. “I’m sorry. About today. I didn’t think before I said that, or, well. Maybe I did.”

The admission hung in the air, and Ban swallowed.

“You meant to hurt me,” Astarion stated, unsurprised. “It isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last.” He allowed his hand to resume moving, and his fingers curled around her waist, resting around the curve.

I love you. I forgive you. Just don’t go.

“I understand,” he continued, “and will continue to do so. There is nothing to apologize for.”

She shook her head, the hand on his chin falling away to grasp his shoulder, squeezing. “No. That’s not fair. You’ve been putting in so much effort, and while I still resent you for going behind my back and… and even prying in the first place, really… I know what I said was out of line.”

Difficult words for her to utter. She’d never been open, never been outwardly affectionate, but she knew he'd been trusting her with his heart and she had purposefully cut it open.

Astarion let her words sink in, relishing the moment despite himself. A small smile played on his lips, the calm suffusing more and more of him, but nowhere near enough to defeat the lingering fear. “A favor then, love, if you’ll indulge me.”

He took a moment to think it through, then gently linked his free arm with the other, encasing her in an embrace. The smile widened, and his eyes were painfully soft when he spoke.

“Make love to me, will you?” The tone was teasing, the smile playful; the gaze was anything but.

Make me feel loved. I need to be reminded.

If you would like to see more of these two and their story, consider reading my other entries in the series "If I ascend up into heaven, thou art there: if I make my bed in hell, behold, thou art there."

Taglist: @elora-the-slutty-songstress @tragedybunny @spacebarbarianweird @ayselluna @enterthedreams @coltaire @qiific3 @misscrissfemmefatale @vixstarria @eatyourheartoutmylove @linllewellyn @ battisonsgf @micropoe10 @thegoodwitchs-blog @akirahime @velcyrptrr @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @babblebrain-blog @asterordinary @last-but-not-the-least @artist4theworld @gracemisconduct @decadentcoffeewizard @rootin-tootin-n-kind @pursuitseternal @youngtacobanana @krispeenuggiez @girlygmer-blog @cheezits4lyfe @vinegarjello @the0ldmann @wisteriaofthegraves @girlygmer-blog

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quizzicalwriter · 6 months

Note

not even sure if you do fluff but i have a request for it anyway!!

going to the movies with dal and afterwards going to bucks to cuddle??👀

-the a03 commenter, davi🫶🏻

Sanctuary

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: A night out with Dallas.

Warnings: None. Just some cuddling and enjoying a movie together, pure fluff.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 2.2k

Cigarette smoke flooded your senses, involuntarily filling your lungs even as you tilted your head to the cracked passenger side window. It wasn’t as though you weren’t used to it, all the guys smoked enough to make a chimney jealous, but it still stunk and you’d never grown used to it over the several years of friendship you’d garnered with all of them.

“Smoke botherin’ you, doll?” Dallas asked, making no move whatsoever to alleviate the car of the smoke that swirled within it, laughing in his throat as you nodded with a cough, swatting away the nearby smoke. “Ain’t that a shame.”

You glared at him, unable to hide the growing smile upon your lips at his asshole-y and sarcastic nature, a combination that would throw most people off, but somehow only kept you intrigued. You battled constantly, always being crude to one another and sarcastic enough that even Darry couldn’t tell, sometimes leading to you both being sat down and talked to, which of course would end in bounds of laughter.

“You-“ You started, rolling the window down with an exasperated groan at how slow the damn thing was, “-are an ass.” He snorted at that, flicking built-up ash off the end of his cigarette out the driver's side window, inadvertently causing some of it to fly back in the rear window. He smirked over at you as he placed the cigarette back between his lips, lifting his brow as he reached over to turn the music up, successfully drowning out any complaints you may’ve had.

The way to the drive-in was only a ten-minute drive, twenty if you were by foot, but neither of you had the energy to walk anywhere that day, so Dallas had simply given Buck a pack of cigarettes in exchange for the T-Bird for the day. As Dallas pulled into the familiar drive-in entrance, you could see him visibly wince at the idea of paying for something he could easily sneak into for free. With a roll of your eyes, you reached for your wallet in your back pocket, pulling out enough to pay for both of your tickets, tucking the money into his fist against the steering wheel before he could object.

He looked over at you, crooked grin and all as he flicked the now-dead cigarette to the ground. “Remind me to pay you back.” He stated, turning to the window and handing over the money. As he paid a guard moved around the car, shining a flashlight into the backseat to ensure you two weren’t smuggling anyone in for free - not that you two hadn’t done it before, hell, everyone had.

With a snicker he drove off, watching in the rearview mirror as the guard lifted his arms over his head, clearly pissed off that he hadn’t been able to finish examining the car. You laughed yourself, shaking your head as Dallas found a spot to park amongst the dirt. A few others were there, some nearly running over to come and greet Dallas. You chimed in whenever you wanted to, but given that most of the men ogled you, you weren’t too keen on conversing with them beyond a simple introduction.

Mid-conversation Dallas turned toward the center console, extending himself halfway into the backseat before plopping a paper bag down in your lap. You looked at him curiously, earning you another self-satisfied smirk on his end as he turned to converse with the few people who’d come by. You opened the bag, eyes widening at the sheer amount of snacks that were in there - and the realization that there was no receipt whatsoever. It was on par for Dallas, and honestly a bit sweet, he’d remembered your favorite candy and seemed to have picked up two bags worth of it along with other snacks for the movie.

“You know I have money right?” You asked through a laugh once the men had dispersed, earning you a huff and a wave off of your words as Dallas turned to you, taking the bag from you to root through it himself. “Took it from the DX, Soda don’t mind.”

You nodded, smile on your lips, you’d all taken things from the DX - the only time Sodapop got pissed was whenever you all took things in excessive amounts, something about ‘fucking up inventory.’ You never paid too much attention to it, but you were careful to not take too much. Dallas then handed over a bottle of coke, the glass clinking against the rings that adorned his fingers. You took the glass, shifting yourself in the T-Bird seats to make yourself comfortable as you cracked the top off.

The speaker along the chainlink fence crackled to life, sounding off the start of the movie just as Dallas placed a few snacks in your lap, balling up the now empty paper bag before tossing it into the backseat. You hadn’t asked what movie he’d taken you to, mostly because Dallas had seen damn near every movie being shown in Tulsa, and for that, you trusted his judgment on flicks.

“Hope you like horror.” He stated through a laugh, smiling over at you as he pulled open a bag of sour candy, propping his boots up on the dashboard of the car. You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, hoping he was joking, but you quickly found out he was not.

“You’re kidding.” You laughed out, not so subtly sinking into the leather of the seat, bringing your legs up to hide your face in your knees. Whatever he’d brought you to see, it was a slasher, that much you could gather from the gruesome sounds pouring from the speaker and the crowd screaming along with the scenes.

Dallas laughed, finding your fear rather adorable. He slunk an arm around you, pulling you close to him, the center console subtly digging into your side as you moved to press your face into his shoulder. Every once in a while you’d look back up, only to be met with a sight that made you borderline nauseous. Somehow Dallas ate through the entire movie, laughing at portions that had other people in the crowd groaning in abject horror.

As much as Dallas wanted to see you squirm at the scenes playing out on the screen, he didn’t want you to upchuck the snacks he’d so diligently stolen from the DX, so he kept his forearm secure over your line of vision, leaving room for you to eat and drink whenever you needed. It was comfortable enough, the sight of you buried into his side, shoveling snacks into your mouth like a chipmunk made it worth it. Every once in a while he’d press a snack to your lips, to which you’d open your mouth and eat whatever it was - until he’d tried to sneak a sunflower seed in there, to which you quickly spit it out. Right on the damn floorboard.

“Dammit.” He grumbled, moving up to pick the wet seed off the floor. He looked back to you, hoping to give you a well-deserved scowl only to notice you covering your face with one hand, the other holding your water bottle steady as you drank from it. “Lucky you’re cute, I’ve swatted at Pony and Johnny for less.”

He watched as you laughed, a smile overtaking your features as you peeked at him through your fingers. It was an adorable sight, one that made his heart thud harder in his chest as he tossed the seed out of the car and moved back beside you, replacing your hand over your eyes with his forearm once more, position holding you snug to his side.

You hadn’t realized the movie had ended until Dallas lifted his arm from your face, lifting his hips to pull a pack of cigarettes free from his back pocket. You took another drink from your water bottle, using your free hand to wipe at your eyes as you surveyed everyone getting their cars started and ready to leave the lot. The smoke from his cigarette wafted over, making your nose scrunch up at the horrid scent.

“Smoke follows beauty.” He muttered around his cigarette, a cocky smile on his lips as he looked over at you, arm now resting languidly against the back of your seat. You’d heard the phrase the entirety of your friendship and subsequent relationship with Dallas, one that never failed to make you smile despite its cheesy nature.

“Shut up.” You replied through a poorly concealed giggle, smiling over at him as you straightened your legs.

“The movie was good, by the way.” He chided, sighing through his words as he flicked built-up ash out the driver's side window. “If you weren’t such a baby you might’ve liked it.”

A guffaw passed your lips as you swatted at his arm, causing him to laugh as he held up his right arm defensively, trying to shield himself from your hand. “I’m not a damn baby!”

Your insistence on the topic only served to prove his point, but he decided to drop it, only raising his brow as he laughed at your pitiful expression. “Alright, alright!” He chuckled out, raising his hands in surrender, succeeding in getting you to quit swatting at him like a fly. Once he felt like he could divert his attention from you he started up the car, arm finding its way back against the back of your headrest as he pulled out of the parking lot, soon joining the line of people leaving the drive-in.

The drive back to Buck’s was spent in comfortable silence, the soft hum of the radio and the occasional passing car filling the air between you. Dallas had always made it a habit to have one hand on you when he drove, no matter the situation, and now was no different. His left hand rested against the steering wheel, a half-smoked cigarette hung betwixt his lips as his right hand cupped your upper thigh, thumb brushing against the denim of your jeans. You’d placed your hand atop his minutes ago, fingers idly playing with the rings that adorned his fingers.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time you’d both gotten back to Buck’s, the ‘open’ sign in the window of the building shut off along with the outside lights above the doorway. It wasn’t often you saw Buck’s place all quiet, it was a bit eerie in a way. Dallas pulled his keys free from his back pocket, exiting the car as he did with you following suit.

You leaned against Dallas’s side as he unlocked the front door, free hand holding the paper bag full of snacks you two didn’t manage to finish during the movie screening. The first floor was quiet, the only noise being that of the air conditioning whirling in the background. Dallas tossed his keys onto the bar, hand finding the small of your back as he guided you through the dark room and toward the staircase.

In truth you didn’t need him to guide you, you’d been in that damn building more than your own house, but you weren’t about to push away his hand. As you made your way up the staircase you could hear the faint sound of music, barely perceptible, Dallas’s seemed to catch it as well, rolling his eyes at the noise as you two carried on upstairs.

“Buck listens to country when he sleeps.” He whispered as he opened his bedroom door. The thought made you laugh, but it made sense given who Buck was - hell, the bar played country music more than any other genre.

Dallas’s room was pleasantly warm, the scent of his cologne and cigarettes lingering in the air - it felt like home to you. You shrugged off your jacket, dropping the paper bag on a nearby dresser as Dallas moved past you toward the bed. As soon as you’d removed your shoes you followed after him, collapsing down onto him, causing him to groan out a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you.

“Don’t like Hank Williams?” You teased, causing Dallas to squeeze his eyes shut in annoyance as he let his head fall back against the mattress. “I’ve heard enough Hank Williams to last me a lifetime, it’s all that station plays at night.”

You chuckled, rolling off of him to straighten up the bedsheets. Dallas was never one to straighten up the sheets, either sleeping in the messed-up pile or sleeping on top of them in resignation. Once you’d unraveled the navy sheets you pulled them up, covering both of you in the warm blankets as you nestled yourself against his side.

“You can choose the next movie.” He murmured, turning halfway to drape his arm over your middle, pulling your back flush with his chest as he buried his face into your hair. “Promise.”

“Sure.” You whispered through a smile, intertwining your legs with his. He was impossible to move once he’d fallen asleep, so you took the opportunity to make yourself as comfortable as possible before you fell asleep in his arms. You held onto his arm that wrapped around your middle, fingers threading with his.

It wasn’t long until you felt his breathing slow, soft sighs passing his lips as he slipped further into his dreams. You moved yourself closer to him, letting your eyes fall shut as the sound of his breathing lulled you to sleep.

“G’night, Dal.” You whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. He hummed, arm tightening around your middle before he settled.

“Night, doll.”

A/N: “I’ve brought you a gift.” Read that in David Bowie’s voice from ‘The Labyrinth’ please and thank you. I love writing fluff! Honestly, I love all genres. I hope you guys enjoy this one! And as always you can find my works over on my AO3 under the username, “Unscriptural.” Thank you again for all the interactions and requests, I appreciate all of it dearly!

#anon ask #dallas winston #my work #the outsiders #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders writing #dallas winston drabble #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston writing #request #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston x reader #the outsiders dallas #dally winston x reader #the outsiders dally #dally winston

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nev3rfound · 1 year

Text

here with you : j.m

something a bit different, my love for pedro is only growing and this series is breaking my heart.

sweet night in with joel, pre apocolypse. (established relationship between joel x fem reader) 1.2k

lotta fluff (cause this man deserves it), implied smut but not explicit, no spoilers for tlou.

Sitting on the sofa, your eyes wandered over to the clock. It’s already gone 8.

With a sigh, you rearrange the couch cushions, nestling yourself in as you change the channels knowing you’re in for a late one tonight.

A few hours pass by the time you hear his truck pull up outside, catching the reflection of the headlights dimming in the glass frames of photos lining the wall.

The door quietly opens and closes, of course, he’d be conscious of waking you, hell, he’s had plenty of practice. “Wondered where you got to.” You call out, letting him know he doesn’t have to pace around silently or attempt to.

Joel chuckles to himself, hanging his jacket up on the crooked hook, and watches it slip off once again before trying to straighten the hook. "I gotta fix that damn thing."

Lifting your head up from the warm spot you formed on the sofa, a tired smile graces your lips. “You’re home.” With a sleep heavy voice, you lift your arms up, motioning for him to join.

"I told you not to be waiting up on me." Joel begins to walk toward you, each step heavier than the last which you can’t help but note. His eyes barely manage to remain open, and his usual half smile sinks.

“Come ere.” Tugging on his top, he almost collapses into you, muttering an exhausted apology. "What kept you this time then?" You ask, glancing down as you run your fingers through his greying brown tufts.

Joel groans under his breath, shuffling you both so you lay on your side, his hand cradles your back to keep you both on the sofa. "Tommy got the wrong part, had to fix three hours of framin'."

Chuckling under your breath, Joel furrows his brows at your response. "You really blaming your brother? Again?" You nudge him lightly, weening a hint of a grin from the man. "Anyway, Sarah rang whilst you were out."

You can feel Joel's grasp on you tense and explain. "She rang to say how much fun she was having, surprisin, I know. Half expected her to ring telling me she upset the poor girl for her stance on the new Britney album or something." Resting your hand on Joel's your fingers glide along the back of his hand, feeling the rough skin and splinters.

"Sounds like Sarah alright." Joel mumbles, tiredness now coaxing his voice.

With a heavy sigh, you roll yourself off of the sofa with a thud. “Come on,” Lifting your body up, you take a hold of Joel’s hand, tugging it lightly. “we’re going to bed, Miller.”

“Okay,” Joel yawns, sluggish movements following behind you up the stairs and into his room. “’least it’s Saturday tomorrow.” He rubs his eyes, flinching as you switch the bedside lamp on, illuminating your sweet smile.

“You know what that means?” You raise a brow teasingly.

“Oh, I think I got an idea.” He chuckles lowly before rushing to your side, tackling you onto his bed, and trapping you under his frame, listening to your laughter fill the room. “Breakfast in bed, right, sugar?”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, urging him closer you lightly kiss him before answering. “And all the extras, just for you.”

“Now that sounds like heaven to me.” Joel mutters into your lips before kissing you once more and begins to run his fingers along your neck and down your chest whilst the other supports himself above you. “I gotta admit though, Saturday is a long time away.” You hum in agreement, mischievousness lacing your gaze.

“I mean, we might as well treat ourselves a little bit earlier than planned, no harm in that, right?” You shrug playfully.

Tugging on your trousers, Joel smiles to himself. “None whatsoever.” He adds, reaching over to turn the lamp off.

Daylight starts to filter through the blinds, daring to peek through the thin cotton curtains and splay across you both.

Joel is the first to wake, as per usual. He squints at the sunlight, shifting slightly only to find himself stuck.

Looking down, his gaze softens. You’re using his arm as a pillow, nestled into his chest lazily with one arm slung across his torso and the other curled into your own chest.

“Mornin’,” Joel whispers into your hair. With his free hand, he brushes your hair from your eyes and tucks it behind your ear.

Having missed his whisper, Joel leans closer and brushes his lips across the top of your head. “Huh?” You mumble, curling up into the sheets, tugging them over your head. “Oh don’t tell me I hogged the bed again?” Tiredness laces your morning voice, but the sight of your sleepy smile warms Joel’s once cold heart.

“For once you’re good.” Joel tells you. “However, I could do with my arm back before it loses all feeling.” He wiggles it, catching your attention as you avert your gaze to the trapped limb in question.

With a swift movement, you’re kneeling upright and notice the indent you’ve left on his arm. “I better not have drooled on you.” You sigh. “I didn’t drool, did I?” You ask, feeling heat creeping up your neck as Joel simply looks at you. “Joel?”

Waving your hand in front of his face, he remains quiet, just taking this moment in for all it’s worth.

Lifting the dead weight, he can feel the tingles of sensation begin to course through.

“You didn’t drool, darlin.” Resting his functional arm, he cups your cheek which is slightly indented from leaning on his arm all night along with part of the pillow’s pattern.

“Then why you smilin’ like that?” Resting your hands on your hips in a playful fashion, Joel can’t help but feel his exterior soften further.

“If only you could see yourself in the mirror.” He shakes his head, tugging you back into his embrace. “So intimidating.” He feigns fear, watching your eyes roll into the back of your head and laugh dryly in response.

“So funny, Miller. Yet here we are, must’ve won you over somehow.” You remind him, now resting your head on the cool pillow as opposed to his arm.

Shuffling to be at level with you, words fail to form a valid response. He knows it’s true, somehow, you weaned your way into the rock he called a heart. With time, you chiseled away at it without realizing it. Every smile, laugh, and interaction he saw you have with Sarah and Tommy. He didn’t realise the concrete lacing his veins slowly began to crack until he felt it pumping blood back through to his heart, hearing it beat once more.

“Yeah, whatever you say.” He comments, resting his hand on your cheek. What he wished he could say was so much deeper, the thought hovered in his mind, but the words failed to follow.

“Come on then,” You take his palm and kiss it before sitting upright and throwing back the covers. “got breakfast to make, handsome.”

Joel watches as you head out of the room and into the bathroom. He leans back in bed, taking it all in, the simplicity of it all and the joy it brings.

Feeling the full sensation now return to his arm, pins and needles having passed he too sits upright, realizing you’re worth all the pins and needles, as long as he gets to see you smile in the mornings.

#joel miller deserves happiness #but nvm #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller oneshot #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #joel miller imagine #joel miller imagines #tlou #the last of us imagine #the last of us imagines #tlou imagine #tlou imagines

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starstruckkittensweets · 1 month

Text

puppy love (iii)

Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

fandom: bungo stray dogs

I didn't mean for this to be so long. I'm so sorry. I just really like writing about Chuuya interacting with dogs. Again I apologize (but I hope you enjoy)! (And the panel comes from the manga Kimi ni Todoke!)

warnings: fem reader, pet names (doll, lady, etc.), mentions of pet abandonment in the past, mentions of stray dogs, slight angst towards the end, a bit of mutual pining (but they don't know it yet bc they're kinda dumb) || words: 5.5k

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV

Chuuya has never known himself to be nervous.

Wary? Sure. Itching to get something over with? Absolutely. Pissed off beyond all belief? Of fucking course—he’s put up with Dazai for all these years, hasn’t he?

But he’s never felt quite like this. Standing in front of the shabby little shop you call home, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fingers twitching in his pockets—not to mention the swarm of butterflies that’s taken refuge in the depths of his stomach. His throat is unnaturally dry, beads of sweat gathering at his forehead.

Why the fuck is he so damn nervous?

He has no reason to be. He knows no danger lies beyond that door, none whatsoever. And even if there was a fight waiting for him, he’d come out on top in two seconds flat.

Nothing to worry about. It’s just you and those dogs you keep yammering on about.

(Maybe that’s why he’s so worried.)

He shakes his head and knocks on the door. You’ve already turned the lights down, placed the closed sign right there in the window, and yet he can hear you scurrying on the other side of the door. A few seconds later it swings open, and the sight of your smile immediately puts him at ease.

“I’m so glad you could make it!”

He steps inside as you shut the door behind him. One of the lights flicker on, bathing the room in a warm golden glow.

This is the first time he’s actually seen your shop, and he’s pleased to find it looks much more comfy than the outside. A bit small in size, but the selection of pet supplies is plenty enough to brag about. Different brands of dog and cat food, assortments of leashes and collars in all kinds of colors, rows of dog toys and treats lining the counters. The floors are clean, the blinds are shut, and everything seems to be in order.

But not a single pup in sight.

“You want anything to drink?” You’re already motioning him to follow you behind the counter, towards the back of the store. “It’s alright, I’m the only one here. I won’t tell anyone,” you add with a wink.

Fuck, more annoying butterflies.

“That’s fine, I’m alright.” He sheds his overcoat and hangs it on one of the hooks by the door, but leaves the hat perched on his head. Luckily you don’t question it.

“They’re in the back, follow me.”

There’s a spring in your step as you lead him through the back hall, through a set of double doors and into what looks like a lounge of some kind. A slightly-worn couch rests by the corner, as well as a table with only a couple chairs to keep it company. But he doesn’t have time to survey the whole room before you disappear through another door, and he picks up the pace just to keep up with you.

Finally you come to a stop, resting a hand on the doorknob and throwing him a smile over your shoulder.

“They’re inside. You ready?”

He swallows the collection of cobwebs in his mouth. “Yeah, I’m ready.”

But you don’t open the door. Don’t even move an inch. You just stare at him with those big eyes, those pretty eyes, as your lips shift into a frown.

“…What?” Did he do something wrong? Did he fuck this up already?

“You don’t have to be nervous, you know.”

“I’m not nervous,” he says a little too quickly, and he bites back a groan when you give him a knowing smile.

“It’s alright, they can be a lot to handle sometimes. But they’ll love you, I promise! Besides, you’ve met three of them already. The other five are gonna be all over you when they see you!”

Two, he corrects you internally. He’s met two of them so far, the third one keeps his distance and fucking glares at him. Hardly a win in his book. Are any of the others like that? Or is it just that one who’s got a stick up his ass?

No, don’t be like that. It’s not the dog’s fault it doesn’t like people; hell, Chuuya himself doesn’t even like people all that much. The nerves are just making him feel on edge.

Fuck it, he’s not nervous!

“They won’t bite,” you add with a laugh, but he still remains locked in his spot behind you. So you hold out a hand and tilt your head, reminding him of the night he first met you. So much like that one dog you have, the shiba pup. “They love meeting new people. And if Kotaro already loves you”—oh yeah, that’s the shiba’s name—“then the others are sure to follow his lead.”

The way you’re looking at him, a gentle look in your eyes, hand outstretched hopefully in his direction…

It’s no big deal. It’s just a bunch of dogs. He loves dogs, right? Never met a dog he didn’t like! They just happen to belong to you, and you’ve…just got a lot of them. Nothing too major, he’s dealt with much worse in his life.

But that’s just it. They’re your dogs, not just stray animals he crosses paths with on the street. They mean the absolute world to you, he knows it in the way you talk about them. You show it in the way you clutch Kotaro to your chest, pressing kiss after kiss to his furry head. The way your eyes light up at even the slightest mention of one of your dogs, how you’re so eager to brag about the new trick they learned or what they did at the park earlier that day.

You love them with everything your heart has to offer…and Chuuya just hopes he’s good enough to give them the attention and adoration they deserve.

A heavy sigh passes through his lips; slowly but surely, he places his gloved hand in yours. “No biting?” he asks with a smile.

“No biting, I promise! Told them to be on their best behavior today, too.”

It’s only when he nods that you turn the knob and push the door open. You all but pull him in after you, all smiles and laughter and—

Holy shit, that’s a lot of fucking dogs!

All different breeds rush him at once, Kotaro taking the lead and nearly barreling right into Chuuya’s knee. The beagle follows soon after, accompanied by a corgi. (At least he thinks it’s a corgi.) Two little Chihuahuas are yipping and running circles around his ankles. A dachshund paws at the tip of his shoe before latching her teeth around it.

“Hey, hey, come on! Be nice!”

You clap your hands and wave your arms to shoo them away. Just like clockwork the dogs turn their attention on you, a blur of wagging tails and drool and perked-up ears. You scoop up the pair of Chihuahuas, holding one in each arm, and gently nudge the dachshund away from Chuuya with your leg.

Over your shoulder he can see the last two dogs: the grumpy bulldog he met a few days ago (the one who looks like he hates his guts), and a schnauzer whose tail hasn’t stopped wagging since he walked in the room. There’s a slight limp in the schnauzer’s step; it’s favoring its front left paw, but he can’t see any visible wound on the skin. Placing the twin Chihuahuas down, you give the schnauzer a scratch under its bearded chin before pressing a kiss to its head.

“Sit!”

About half the dogs listen, Kotaro not being one of them. He’s still busy sniffing the area around Chuuya, rubbing against his leg like a cat. You snap your fingers over and over, huffing when the dog blatantly ignores you. Finally you stand up and scoop him up in your arms, placing him down in between the dachshund and the beagle.

“You alright?” Your smile is a bit wobbly. Are you just as nervous as he is?

For some reason the thought quells the storm of butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

“I’m fine, doll. Nothin’ I can’t handle,” he adds with a smirk, and you quickly avert your eyes back down to the dogs.

You sink down to sit on the floor, patting the space beside you. Unfortunately Kotaro takes that as his cue to move—even before Chuuya can settle himself down, he’s wrestling a rowdy shiba pup off his lap.

But when one dog goes, the rest of the pack is sure to follow. And suddenly the two of you are swamped in furry bodies and swishing tails and scrabbling paws. One puppy on your lap, another in your arms, and one nosing at your pocket in hopes of finding a snack or two.

“This one’s Sora,” you say, holding the corgi up to him. Chuuya can’t even speak, too captivated by the pup’s sweet brown eyes. “He’s a cutie, isn’t he? And he’s—oh, hey! I would never forget about you, Ocha, don’t worry!” You reach over to pat the dachshund right between her ears. “This little girl is Ocha. She can get a bit jealous but she’s an absolute sweetheart! Oh! And these two are Yuki and Yui! They’re…the troublemakers of the pack!”

Are those the Chihuahuas? One of them is chomping on your shoelaces, while the other one is pawing at his pant leg. The corgi in his arms lets out a soft whine; immediately he brings it closer, letting it sniff his hand and lick his face.

“This is Haru,” you continue, motioning to the schnauzer. “She’s the newest one here. She’s not scared of humans though, so you can pet her all you like! Just let her approach you first. Oh, and be mindful of her paw, she’s recovering from a broken leg. Poor thing could barely walk when we found her! But she’s healing up so nicely…aren’t you, pretty girl?”

The dog lets out a whine, but it almost sounds happy. Her ears are pressed against her head and her stubby tail’s wagging a mile a minute.

Reaching around the corgi’s head—is it Sora? Sounds about right—he holds out a hand to the schnauzer. The dog, Haru, gives a cautious sniff, balances herself on her good paw, and takes another step closer. You’re practically bouncing in your seat as Haru wags her tail and lets Chuuya pet her.

“Aww, she likes you!”

And thank fuck for that; there’s nothing more depressing than a dog that doesn’t like you.

Like that one—he gives the bulldog a sideways glance, and the dog huffs and turns his head.

The beagle nearly trips over his own paws trying to reach Chuuya’s face. The tiny Chihuahua chewing on your shoelaces manages to untie them, and you scramble to grab the string from its mouth with a shriek.

Kotaro, Pochi, Sora… Haru, right?

Something nudges his elbow. It’s the little dachshund, staring up at him with big brown eyes, clutching a small stuffed toy in her mouth. She nudges him again, giving a whine and shaking her whole backside in the air.

“What is it, huh?” Fuck, what’s that one’s name again? “You wanna play, is that it?”

The dog yips and bats him with her paw. But when he grabs at the toy, she gives a hard tug and nearly rips the damn thing right out of his grasp.

“I can’t throw it if you don’t give it to me!”

She doesn’t give up, and neither does he. You laugh at the awkward tug of war between the two, all the while Sora is curled up in Chuuya’s other arm. One of the Chihuahuas crawls into his lap, throwing off his balance just enough for the dachshund to wrench the toy out of his hand.

“Hey, wait—”

It’s a three-way assault: Kotaro plants his paws right on his shoulders, Sora leans up to lick his face, and the dachshund—Ocha, that’s it!—practically throws herself right into his lap, all but knocking the poor Chihuahua out of the way. The poor pup tumbles to the floor, but you’re quick to scoop him up before he can whine.

“Sorry, Yuki,” you manage through your laughter, “Ocha didn’t mean it, I promise. …And sorry, Chuuya! Usually they’re not this rowdy!”

But he finds himself laughing along with you—of course, you apologize to the dog first—even when Kotaro’s weight knocks him over onto the floor. He’s on his back know, knees bent with the beagle ducking beneath them, and the tiny corgi curled up on his chest. Kotaro’s wet nose is pressed against his cheek, Ocha’s paw nudging his shoulder, and oh shit, now the schnauzer’s in on the fun—

“Come on, guys, let him breathe for a bit!” Your voice reaches him through the mess of fur and paws; he sees your hand snake around the dachshund’s body to pull her away. “No doggy pile today!”

Not that he has a problem with that. If this is what you have to deal with every day, living with all these dogs doesn’t seem like such a bad thing.

“Get over here, you little—”

He rolls over, propping himself on his hands and knees, still supporting the corgi against his chest. Kotaro barks and shakes his bottom in the air; the silly look on his face just screams “play with me, damn it!”

Pochi plants his paws onto his shoulders, while Ocha ambushes him from the front. Despite favoring her paw, Haru is quick to chime in with a yip and plants a sweet kiss right on Chuuya’s cheek.

The smug look on Kotaro’s face says it all: You’re surrounded. Give up already, feeble human!

“Alright, alright, that’s enough!”

You’re on your feet now, shooing the dogs away, cringing at the rumpled fabric of Chuuya’s pristine jacket and vest. The flecks of dog hair sprinkled along his dress pants. Not to mention the trails of drool and doggy slobber on his face—

“Come on, be nice.” You slide Pochi out of the way and gently pick up Haru in your arms. Chuuya catches the bulldog glaring at him from across the room; the little shit hasn’t even moved in the last ten minutes or so. “Give him some space, Kotaro!”

Chuuya manages to lift himself to his knees. The little corgi in his arms lifts his head and kisses his chin, his stubby little tail thumping against his hand. A laugh bubbles up in his throat.

“Lovable little shit, ain’t he?”

“Yeah, Sora’s a cuddle bug when he wants to be!” Once the dogs give you some space, you hold out a hand to help him up. “He’s also a sleepy little guy. Gets random bursts of energy but he’s always the first to fall asleep.”

His gloved hand slides against your own, and you pull him to his feet with a grunt. Immediately Haru and Ocha start whining and pawing at his pant leg. Batting their eyes at Sora, all snuggled up against the man’s chest.

“Are they usually just clingy, or is it just me?” he asks with a smile, and you giggle behind your hands.

“Must be you! They’re friendly, but never that friendly to people they’ve just met… They must really like you a lot.”

(Maybe it’s his roguish charm and handsome features. If so, you can’t really blame them.)

“Anyway, looks like they’ve settled down a bit.” He glances at the two pups nestled in your arms; the twin Chihuahuas are already fast asleep, snoring softly with their heads against your chest. “Come on, I’ll show you the rest of the shop.”

The “rest of the shop” isn’t really part of the shop at all; Chuuya learns quickly that it’s just the half-finished room where the dogs live, with the stairs leading up to your apartment just off to the side. He stops himself before he can wonder what’s up there, though.

Not the kind of thoughts he should be having about someone he’s only just yet. And about a lady, no less.

And now the dogs are safe and sound, sprawled out in their individual beds and tucked away for the night. The Chihuahuas sleep in a tiny bed between a mess of blankets, with a dozing Pochi and Ocha on either side of them. Sora is curled up into Haru’s side; when his paw twitches gently, Chuuya thinks he can feel his chest get all warm and fuzzy.

So fucking adorable, aren’t they?

The only ones still awake are Kotaro (who’s made his home at his feet, for some unknown reason), and Shiro, who’s planted his ass firmly on your shoes. Still glaring at him with his bottom teeth jutting out, only wagging his tail when you reach down to pet him.

The two of you are leaning against the counter, side by side, holding a pair of mugs in your hands. Might be too late in the night for it, but holy shit do you make a great cup of coffee.

“I’m glad you think so,” you chuckle, careful to keep your voice low. Don’t wanna wake the babies, right? “I don’t really like it, I kinda have to drink it for these little guys, though. Keeps me going the entire day!”

He looks at you then, really looks at you as you take another sip of your drink. Your frazzled hair, the bags under your eyes, the slight heave in your chest—and the familiar warm glow in your eyes as they sweep over the eight resting dogs.

Running a shop, catering to customers, taking care of eight individual dogs, all with different personalities and needs of their own… No wonder you look so drained. You look like you could sleep for a week straight, and then some with that look in your eye.

He clears his throat and averts his gaze before you can catch him. “You said she’s the newest one, right?” He motions to Haru with a hand, snickering as she snuggles deeper into her little makeshift bed. “How long have you had her?”

“Only a couple weeks.” You place your mug down and sweep a hand through your hair. “We found her wandering around the streets one night—well, Kotaro found her, really. Poor girl was digging through the trash and limping so badly! We took her to the vet right away, fixed up her leg so she could walk again. She had a collar but when we tried calling the owners there was no answer.”

Your hands suddenly curl around the edge of the counter. Nails biting into the surface, teeth clenched and eyes wild with fire. Chuuya stops himself from reaching out to you, instead tightening his grip on his mug and taking another sip.

“They wouldn’t answer our calls, and when the vet stopped by their place he realized they’d moved… Didn’t even have the sense to bring her to a shelter first. Just up and left her, like she didn’t even matter.”

Such a sweet dog, so kind and gentle, with her favored paw resting so nicely on the blankets… Little puffs of air escaping through her nose, brushing against the corgi’s fluffy head.

And suddenly he wants to shatter the mug in his hand. The thought of leaving a mess on your floor is enough to keep him at bay, but the white-hot fury is still blazing through his veins.

How could someone treat such an innocent animal like that?

He wouldn’t have guessed it, with how friendly she had been with him earlier. Eager to play and get to know him, licking at his face and wagging her cute little tail. And extremely loyal from what he’s seen so far, with the way she looks at you and responds to your voice. What kind of dumbass would let go of such a perfect companion?

“…Are they all street dogs?” His voice is strained, but his eyes are gentle when they meet your own. “Abandoned, I mean?”

“No, not all of them. This one,” you lean down to rub Shiro’s chest, “I knew his old owner. He was moving away and he couldn’t take Shiro with him. He used to work at the shop, that’s why he asked me. Sometimes I think he still misses him.”

That explains why the dog’s such a hard-ass. But he can’t find it in himself to blame him. Chuuya knows a thing or two about losing people he cares about.

“Pochi and Sora were hanging around the shop before I took them in. At first I thought they were cats, but then I heard barking one night and knew I had to bring them in.” That familiar smile is back on your face as you gush about your puppies. “Ocha? I found her while coming home from a friend’s house, in a thunderstorm of all things! Now she doesn’t like storms, but show me a dog that does!”

You slide your mug further away before lifting yourself onto the edge. Only when you pat the space beside you does Chuuya do the same, careful not to spill what little coffee he has left in his own mug.

“The twins, Yuki and Yui,” you point to the tiny Chihuahuas in the center, “…I don’t know where they came from, honestly. I just opened the door one day and they were there. Right on the doorstep, practically newborn, no note or anything. I don’t even know what happened to their mother.”

Shiro yawns and settles down at the base of the counter, his legs sprawled out in front of him. Meanwhile Kotaro turns his attention to Chuuya, whining until the man caves in and scratches behind his ear.

“What about this one?”

“Oh, Kotaro? Former shelter dog, the last one to be adopted before they closed down! No one else wanted to deal with his little troublesome ass, so I volunteered.”

And the smug little shit looks so proud of himself, too. Tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, tail swishing from side to side, stirring up the mess of dog hair already on the floor.

A comfortable silence settles over the two of you. The dogs are sleeping, Kotaro’s relishing in all the extra attention, and for once, the bulldog Shiro isn’t even growling at him. Eventually he finishes off his coffee, and you’re quick to take it to rinse it in the sink with your own.

“Hey, Chuuya? Can I ask you something real quick?”

He glances up from Kotaro for a split second. It’s easier to pet him from the ground rather than the counter, so he hops off and kneels down to the dog’s level. His gloves are gonna be covered in dog fur once he’s done.

“What is it?”

Another bout of silence. Your back is turned to him, still hunched over the sink, despite the mugs already drying in the rack next to it. Kotaro paws at his knee, silently begging for another round of pats.

“…You’re part of the Port Mafia, aren’t you?”

Every nerve in his body screams at him to run. No, to fight. Fight and fucking win, just as he’s always had to do. Eliminate the threat. Prove your strength.

It’s like a switch goes off in his brain. But he’s not the only one; Shiro’s head lifts off the ground at lightning speed, his lip curled to show more than just that row of bottom teeth. Kotaro stiffens as soon as Chuuya’s hand retreats, his huge eyes boring right through him.

You’re still glued to your spot at the sink, not even daring to move an inch.

The message is clear from the dogs. Touch her and you die.

He swallows the mess of cobwebs in his throat as he slowly rises to his feet. Kotaro and Shiro keep their eyes trained on him; out of the corner of his eye, he can see Pochi and Ocha stirring awake, too.

Insanely loyal dogs, aren’t they?

“…It’s alright if you are,” you spit out, still staring at the sink in front of you. “I promise I won’t tell anyone! It’s just… I’ve, ah, been wondering about it…for a few days now, and I just thought…”

The sigh he lets out sends a shiver down your spine. He’s careful as he makes his way towards you, and for some reason, Shiro lets him without taking a chunk out of his leg.

“…How’d you find out?”

He’s trying not to sound intimidating. He’s not angry, far from it actually. He knows you and your little pack of pups is no real threat to the mafia. (Although, the image of you storming HQ with a band of street dogs is strangely entertaining to him.) Sooner or later, you would have questions of your own about him. He just didn’t think it would be this soon.

But that horrible feeling from earlier is fluttering around in his chest. The same one that makes his palms slick with sweat inside his gloves, the one that sends his heart smashing against his ribcage.

Is he ashamed? Absolutely not; the mafia has always been a part of him, and it always will be until the day he dies.

Maybe the thought of you running away, too scared of what he is—and taking your little pack with you—is sending him in such a frenzy.

“I’ve…had my suspicions,” you start quietly. Slowly you turn around, keeping your back against the sink. Chuuya stands a few feet away from you, forcing his hands back into his pockets. “For a couple days, now. Maybe even more… I just wanted to be sure before I started suspecting anything…”

Dangerous? He fills in the blank with a swallow.

“…’M not gonna hurt you, ya know.”

“I know! I know… Believe it or not, I’ve had my fair share of run-ins with the mafia. This isn’t exactly a nice area of Yokohama to begin with.”

That raises the hair on the back of his neck. Who did you come across? Surely someone like Akutagawa or Tachihara couldn’t be bothered with a simple pet shop owner. A simple grunt then, perhaps? He can’t imagine why they would make themselves known to an innocent civilian like you.

Did they threaten you? Were you caught in the crossfire? Thrown in the middle of a turf war? Every possibility sends another wave of heat throughout his body.

“Honestly, it wasn’t that hard to figure out.” There’s an awkward chuckle on your end. “I only ever see you at night. You’re rich as hell, I can tell by the way you carry yourself. Only one kind of job around here could get you that kind of outfit, and all those fancy wines you like to talk about. Oh, and you kinda dress like a stereotypical mafioso, too… Not that it’s a bad thing!” you add quickly, holding up your hands. “I like it! Makes you look…good, I guess? No, not just good… Maybe handsome? Ah, I-I mean—”

You stumble over your words, burying your face in your hands when none of them come out right. That’s when Kotaro trots over to you, circling your feet before taking a seat right in front of you. Shiro stays right in his spot, eyes glued on Chuuya…but at least he’s not growling at him anymore.

Chuuya blinks. And then blinks again.

…You think he’s handsome?

He clears his throat—no time to get all distracted over a few simple words from a pretty girl. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, doll. I promise, the Port Mafia wants nothing to do with your little…pack of dogs.”

But he does.

As horrible as it sounds, he wants everything to do with you and your little family of puppies.

“It’s okay.” You wrap your arms around your midsection, finally meeting his eyes with a shaky smile. “It’s just…kind of a lot to take in… Sorry…”

No, he gets it. He could barely believe it himself, after joining the mafia years ago.

“…You ain’t scared?” he asks, despite his gut telling him to shut the fuck up already.

But you shake your head, and suddenly he finds himself frowning.

“A bit too trusting, don’t ya think?”

“Maybe.” Your smile becomes a bit stronger now. “But the dogs seem to like you, so that’s enough for me.”

His jaw nearly drops to the floor; he can feel the coffee from earlier swirling around in his stomach.

Are you fucking serious?

“I know it sounds silly, but it’s true!” You must’ve seen the look on his face; you’re starting to look a bit sheepish yourself, but you continue nonetheless. “Dogs have a great sense for this kind of thing. They can tell when a person has good or bad intentions. Pick the rotten apples from the rest of the bunch, you know? And they’re all pretty easy-going around you. So if they’re not scared of you, then I’m not either.”

Well sure, it would make sense if you were a fucking child. But placing all your trust in a bunch of dogs, no matter how loyal and protective it may be… It doesn’t sit right with him.

“You can’t be serious.”

“But I am.”

“What if I hurt you?” Even saying the words out loud make him feel sick. “You really think they would’ve warned you?”

“Yeah, they started growling at you right away, didn’t they?”

“What if it was someone else? Someone other than me?”

“I trust them. I protect them, they protect me.”

“You can’t always be sure of that, doll.”

He’s stepping closer to you, and for whatever reason Kotaro and Shiro allow him to. Until he’s face to face with you, so close you can count the row of freckles splashed across his nose.

But you’re still smiling. In fact, you look more comfortable right now in front of him than you have all night. Almost like you’ve totally forgotten about the whole Port Mafia thing.

“It all comes down to intentions. Believe it or not, they’ve saved my ass a few times before. Especially Shiro; more than once he’s kept a shady person away from me, or pulled me away from a dangerous situation. It sounds weird, but I trust them with my life. Just as they trust me with theirs.”

Words fail him in that moment; he opens his mouth, and they die right there on his tongue. On one hand, what you’re saying does make sense, but it also doesn’t, and he’s not sure which one to believe.

He knew you were close to your dogs. Treated them just as you would your own children. He just didn’t realize you put such a great amount of trust in their hands—well, paws.

Despite their smaller size and friendly natures, they did jump to your defense when they suspected you might be in danger. Shiro and Kotaro standing between you two, a protective barrier of claws and teeth, with Ocha and Pochi standing on guard.

A dog’s love for his human knows no bounds.

“Trust me, if they sensed you had any bad intentions, or wanted to hurt me in any way, they wouldn’t have let you come into the shop like you did. Kotaro wouldn’t have warmed up to you right away. Believe me when I say this, Chuuya, the pups love you.”

He grits his teeth, his gaze falling to the floor between you. “…Not the bulldog.”

Your laugh is a song to his ears, and when you reach for his gloved hand, he thinks his heart might burst right there in his chest.

“Don’t worry about Shiro. He’s stingy with everyone at first! To be honest, if he really didn’t like you, he would’ve tried to bite you the first time he saw you! But as for the rest of them? I’ve never seen them warm up to a stranger like that before. Especially Kotaro—the way he acted around you that first night… It kinda made me jealous!”

You shake your head and take his other hand in yours. His face grows warm beneath your gaze, his heartbeat echoing in his ears as you inch your face closer to his.

“If my dogs trust you, then that tells me you must be a good man.”

And suddenly, Chuuya wants nothing more than to sweep you into his arms and press a thousand kisses to your lips.

“Your secret’s safe with me. If you want to come back, you’re more than welcome to! And if you want, we can just keep it between us. No outside drama, no mentions of work—just you and me and all these dogs…if that sounds good with you.”

Chuuya doesn’t think he can smile any wider. There’s another strange feeling in his chest, so much more pleasant than the one from earlier. No more shaking hands or butterflies in his stomach; only a sweet, warm feeling that pools deep in his chest.

It reminds him of your smile, of your warmth and affection for the little family you’ve made for yourself, as he tugs you in closer with Kotaro yipping happily at your heels.

“Sounds perfect to me, doll.”

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