#and like i know that's dramatic but. i just can't help feeling a little bitter about it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loaksky · 1 year

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— 𝘪𝘯 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘮

the deets — lo'ak is the black sheep in the family, clinging to honor by a precarious thread. you are the well-loved songstress in the tribe. he should resent you for being everything he's not, but his fickle heart can't bring him to do so.

the who — lo'ak x fem omatikaya!reader

the word count — 10.2k (rip yall)

the tags — (one-sided) rivals-to-lovers, angsty angsty, hurt / comfort, reader gives lo'ak a big ol smooch (perhaps more than one), lo’ak is the biggest dumbass and because of this he’s mean asf, reader has a big ol heart and just really wants lo’ak to like her, aged!up characters for maturity’s sake.

the warnings — language, lo'ak is in luv but doesn't realize it, he's in denial that the feelings could be reciprocated, this is super dramatic so put your seat belts on!

the notes — was feeling extra sad and wanted to write something self-indulgent. this lovely anon requested something, and i used their ask as inspiration to finish this beast. fine line, bags, and love in dark are the three main songs i listened to finish this, so if you wanna be in your feels, have a listen LMAO. despite all the support, i’m still so mf nervous posting this ejsjsjdjs

masterlist

SOMETHING UGLY KINDLES IN THE PIT of Lo'ak's stomach at the mere mention of your name. It's sour on his tongue, bitter in his brain. He doesn't know when he's started to feel like this, started to feel absolutely dreadful anytime he'd hear the timbre of your voice.

It's warm, thick like nectar and it makes him sick.

Ever since you all were little, the elders crooned over what a great girl you were growing into; strong, intelligent, beautiful. It made him boil how much they'd sing your praises, the high esteem everyone held you in as one of the clan's most talented.

Something dull would pick at him being compared to his older brother, but nothing burned more than being compared to you.

Maybe it's because it's always implied whenever your names share the same sentences, that lingering implication that he could be more like you. The clan fans the flames of your mere existence while Lo'ak is snuffed out like a dying fire.

He hates it. He hates you.

He thinks.

It'd be easier to, if you were awful behind the scenes. Arrogant, stuck up, but you're none of those things. You're kind, gentle, mighty when you need to be. It doesn't help that you shine like the brightest star, engulfing everyone in your light, in your warmth.

But Lo'ak resists. He sees right through you, sees right through every saccharine smile you send him. He can see it in your eyes, how you really see him. Despite standing a full head taller than you, he sees the way you look down your nose at him.

It grates his nerves, how disgustingly sweet you are towards him despite all attempts to rebuff you.

Certainly doesn’t soothe his ego when you always seem to be around the bend every time he gets bitched at by the clan, eyes soft and filled with pity. To add insult to injury, you frequently tail him like a shadow after these moments when all he wants is to be alone.

Like now, you linger.

It's after dinner and Kiri and Spider stand before him. They come together like the three points of a triangle and you stand an awkward distance away from them.

Kiri notices you first, her face splitting into a big smile as she waves you over.

Lo'ak breathes a deep sigh before locking eyes with Spider who tries his best to suppress an amused grin.

“Hi,” you chirp and Lo'ak can't help but roll his eyes.

Spider and Kiri greet you eagerly. Lo'ak simply nods his head in acknowledgement before tightening his fist around his dagger.

“We going or what?” he finally says.

You perk up.

“Where are you guys heading off to?” you ask curiously, hands clasped behind your back.

Spider opens his mouth to answer, but Lo'ak cuts him off quickly.

“No where important,” he says, unsure if you'll blab about their whereabouts to the elders, or worse, his parents.

You roll your lips and shift on your feet.

“Can I come?” you ask hesitantly, eyes hopeful.

Kiri's smile grows as she links her arm with yours.

“No,” he says sharply. “Absolutely not.”

Your face falls and something pulls inside his chest when you fail meet his gaze, your frown barely perceptible.

You make a move to pull from Kiri's grasp, but her arm tightens through yours. She levels Lo'ak with a weighty glare and you fidget uncomfortably under his narrowed eyes.

“Don't worry about it,” you say, like someone's hit a reset button. You smile that pretty smile and Lo'ak wants to scream. "It's okay, I think Rutan needs help with clean up."

You slip from Kiri's grasp and the three watch you walk off.

“Do you always have to be such a bitch?” Spider scoffs a disbelieving laugh.

“She's just gonna tag along so she can snitch,” Lo'ak grumbles.

“Oh c'mon,” Kiri argues. “________ just wants friends.”

Lo'ak sneers.

“I don't want to be friends with her,” he says firmly, knuckles white around the handle of his knife.

“Weirdo,” Spider mumbles. “She’s cute. Think she likes you.”

Lo'ak's spine stiffens.

“It's an act” Lo'ak grumbles. “She just wants to look good in front of the elders to keep up whatever nice girl show she's putting on.”

Kiri rolls her eyes hard.

There are moments when Lo'ak thinks he's being harsh, but he can't help himself. It's like he loses all semblance of a filter when it comes to you.

“Hi, Lo'ak,” you greet him sweetly, lowering yourself onto the fallen log he's perched on, fashioning arrows to practice with later on in the evening with Neteyam.

He shifts away from you, putting the distance of two bodies between the two of you as he pauses his task at hand.

“Hi,” he says flatly.

“Can I help?” you ask tentatively, fingers twitching towards one of the untouched sticks in a pile next to his feet.

His kicks them closer to himself, out of your reach before leveling you with a sharp glare.

“No thanks,” he says quickly and you recoil slowly, letting out a shaky laugh before fixing that stupid smile on your pretty face.

“Oh, sorry,” you apologize, straightening in your seat.

A silence so uncomfortably palpable settles over the two of you as you shift so that your knees are turned towards him.

His throat bobs when his gaze travels from your little toes all the way up to your inquisitive gaze, golden and searching. It makes something unruly settle in his gut and he turns his attention back to carving his arrows.

“Do you need something?” he breaks the silence finally. “I'm kinda busy.”

You bite your lip before scooting a little closer to Lo'ak's hunched figure.

“My birthday's coming up,” you start.

“I'm aware,” Lo'ak almost scoffs.

It's all the clan has been able to talk about for the past few days. How they'd be able to prepare for the golden girl's next birth cycle and what they'd be able to do to make you smile the brightest.

“Your birthday is a week before,” you state and his head whips towards you.

“How do you know that?” he asks sharply, accusation heavy in his gruff tone.

You flinch and he falters for a moment before your smile simply widens.

“We grew up together, Lo'ak,” you say and the way his name sounds from your mouth sounds absolutely heavenly. “You're my friend.”

Friend.

He scowls at the term.

“We're not friends,” he bites back.

If the statement bothers you, you don't show it, simply tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before putting on a brave face.

“I want to celebrate with you,” you say shyly.

“Hard pass,” he says too quickly, gathering his sticks and fashioned arrows under his grasp.

He leaves you in the clearing on your own.

You must be fucking with him. You have to be. It'd be the only explanation for why Jake pulls him aside a few nights later and tells him that you've requested to work with him and Neteyam during archery practice.

“No,” he says stiffly, shaking his head.

His dad levels him with a hard glare and Lo'ak sighs deeply.

“She's a nuisance, Dad,” he argues. “Me and Neteyam are making good progress with our training and we'll have to start at square one if she joins.”

“Lo'ak, this isn't an ask,” Jake says sternly.

“But, Dad!”

“Lo'ak.”

Lo'ak huffs, snatching his bow and quiver angrily before storming off.

“You're doing great,” Neteyam says to you once the three of you have convened in the training circle.

The three arrows you've shot have all landed within centimeters of the mark and to say that Neteyam is impressed is an understatement. Lo'ak, on the other hand, fumes not-so-silently as he tears his arrows from his target.

Yet again, you have another person wrapped around your finger and it makes his blood simmer as he assumes his position at the marker and loads his arrow. It splinters through the air and hits the target right on the bullseye. The arrow punctures through the hide and lodges its way into the wood from the sheer force of Lo’ak’s shot.

You start at him moon-eyed, lush lips breaking into a full smile.

“Perfect shot,” you observe. “That was awesome.”

Lo’ak scans your features hesitantly before his gaze flits to his older brother, waiting for any acknowledgment that he’d done a great job, but Neteyam is taking notes on the arrows still stuck in the fabric of your own target.

His heart sinks.

“Fuck this,” Lo’ak grumbles, bundling all of his belongings.

He stalks through the clearing, past his brother, to leave you two.

He doesn’t know what fuels the fire more, the fact that Neteyam didn’t even bat an eye at the feat they’d been practicing for for the past three weeks because he was too immersed in you, or the fact that you bore witness to his first clean shot and gave him that sickeningly sweet smile that made his stomach turn.

“Where are you going?” Neteyam sighs.

“Somewhere you two aren’t,” he grumbles under his breath, ducking through the brush of the lofty forest.

You lick your lips, locking eyes with Neteyam as you give him a bashful grin and slowly break away to follow Lo’ak’s path.

He isn’t far ahead as you push through the vines and low-hanging leaves, the path lined with large plants and the spindly roots of the looming trees. The grass is plush between your toes as you scamper to follow Lo’ak from a distance, watching as his lithe body climbs through the dense flora.

“Why are you following me?” he calls after a few dozen paces, stopping in the middle of the path to whirl on his heel.

His golden eyes are syrupy, warm despite the edge, and you can’t help but flash him your pearly whites in a genuine smile that takes up your dimpled cheeks.

“Why’d you run off?” you ask him. “You were doing so well!”

His chest rises and falls with a scoff.

“You can give it a rest, you know?” Lo’ak says flatly, fist so tight around his bow he feels like he’ll crush the wood.

Your expression morphs, eyebrows furrowing in a way that makes Lo’ak throat bob, something pinching behind his ribcage.

“What?” you ask, frown marring your pretty face.

“I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you can stop acting like you wanna be friends with me,” Lo’ak says matter-of-factly.

“You are my friend,” you protest quietly.

Lo’ak rolls his eyes.

“Dude, whatever,” he mutters, turning his back on you.

“Is it so wrong?” you murmur and he stops in his tracks, refusing to meet your gaze. “To be friends?”

Friends.

That stupid fucking word again.

Lo’ak bites his tongue and stalks off, leaving you on the path.

Neteyam rips him a new one when he sees him at dinner later that night. Lo’ak hangs his head as Neteyam digs in.

“Is it so hard to be nice?” Neteyam asks, hand squeezing his shoulder as they stand a handful of meters away from the main circle.

As his eyes wander, he notices you sitting with his sister, head thrown back in laughter that glitters and wafts with the rising smoke of the fire. He swallows turning his attention back to his older brother.

“Just don’t like her,” he admits. “I want her to leave me alone.”

“You don’t like her or you like her too much?” Neteyam asks, brow bone raised.

Lo’ak’s face scrunches.

“Ew, no,” he blurts. “Why would I—”

“________ just wants to fit in,” he sighs. “She has trouble making friends.”

“Yeah, I wonder why,” Lo’ak mocks. “I don’t know why Kiri and Spider are always up her ass, she’s—”

“Lo’ak,” Neteyam warns.

“Dude, everyone is always ________ this, _________ that! I don’t understand what’s so great about her—”

A throat clears and the brothers both turn their attention to the newcomer. Lo’ak could groan in frustration seeing that you’ve abandoned your seat and now stand nearby with two wooden plates.

“They’re going to start cleaning up soon,” you say hesitantly. “Wanted to bring you some.”

Neteyam takes it graciously from you, nodding his head in thanks while Lo’ak stares down at the plate you’d arranged for him, abundant in vegetables and thick cuts of meat.

“No thanks,” he says flatly.

You try to coax him.

“C’mon Lo’ak, you say gently. “I know you haven’t eaten yet.”

“No thanks,” he repeats stonily, holding his hand up.

You offer up the plate again.

“Lo’ak–“

“I said no thank you,” he grunts, annoyed.

He’d only meant to push it back towards you, but one second it’s in your hands, the next you’re wearing dinner, the plate clattering onto the ground.

“Lo’ak!” Neteyam scolds.

“Shit, I didn’t–”

“It’s fine,” you breathe an airy laugh and Lo’ak freezes when he hears your breath hitch. “It was an accident.”

“Oh, ________…” Neteyam sighs, but you’re picking up the plate and scurrying off, ignoring the nearby snickering.

“Whatever you got going on, you need to cool it,” Jake scolds him in the family tent after dinner that night. “________ is a good girl, she’s trying to find her place. Can’t really do that if you’re gonna be a jerk to her all the time.”

Lo’ak resists the urge to roll his eyes because, yet again, someone is sticking up for you, admonishing him about how he could be nicer, how he could take you under his wing, how he–

“What about me?” Lo’ak argues. “I tell her to leave me alone all the time, but she doesn’t listen. Why do I have to be nice to someone who doesn’t respect–”

“Cut the bullshit,” Jake thunders. “You haven’t even tried being her friend.”

“Why should I?” Lo’ak counters.

“Because maybe you two are more alike than you’d care to learn,” Jake says knowingly. “Now go apologize.”

“Dad!”

“Go, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak sucks in a deep breath before squeezing his eyes shut and blowing out through his nose.

“Fine, fine, whatever,” he grumbles, ducking from the tent into the humid night air.

He starts into the jungle, fingers brushing over the leaves and petals of the plants and flowers. He takes the moment to regulate his pounding heart in his chest before trying to wrack his brain for any words that he could scrounge into a believable apology.

When he crosses the glowing waters of a skinny brook, something rustles nearby and his hand is on the hilt of his dagger in the blink of an eye.

He turns to face the noise, knife drawn, but then you emerge and his body relaxes a fraction.

“Fuck, ________, you scared me,” he sighs in relief.

You fidget and swallow down the lump in your throat.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly.

A brief silence dawns the two of you and Lo’ak notes that you’ve cleaned up from the evening meal’s debacle, now wearing a longer loincloth threaded with round pearlescent beads that refract the luminescence of the surrounding forest.

Your grasp tightens around a leather bound journal and for a moment, he wonders what you could be writing about.

When you follow his gaze, you shyly tuck the journal behind your back and give him an uneasy smile.

“I wanted to–”

“I came to–”

Your words clash and you breathe a little laugh through your nose as you gaze at him with brilliant eyes. You start closing the distance and Lo’ak’s hands grow clammy.

“You first,” you offer.

Whatever threads of an apology he’d crafted in the moments prior have evaporated now that you stand before him, absolutely glowing.

“Lo’ak?” Your head tilts and his cheeks warm.

“Sorry,” he says hoarsely. “For what happened at dinner.”

You shake your head quickly.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you assure him, reaching out to touch him.

He recoils, clearing his throat as he retreats to put an ample amount of distance between the two of you.

You eye the berth and something shutters across your face as you rock back on your heels and flash him another uneasy smile.

You haven’t even tried being her friend, his dad’s words echo like a call in the night. Maybe you two are more alike that you care to learn.

Were you? You and Lo’ak were as different as they come, you molded by the love and adoration of the clan, him built up by the lessons and lectures he received from his parents and Neteyam.

“Where are you going?” you ask, blowing by the previous conversation.

He shrugs.

“Dunno,” he admits. “I was looking for you.”

The way you freeze is almost covert, your lips rolling as you try to hide the smile threatening to split your face.

“Oh,” you hum. “Wanna go for a walk?”

No, he wants to say. He absolutely does not want to spend anymore time with you than he has to. Likes to believe that he wouldn’t even bat an eye if he were to never see you again, but you’re looking at him expectantly and his dad’s words are like a mantra in his head, so he agrees begrudgingly.

It’s awkward at first, silent except for the natural soundtrack of the vicarious jungle. But like you do so well, you break the silence and Lo’ak has to resist rolling his eyes for the third time that night.

“What are your favorite colors?” you ask suddenly.

“I dunno, green?” he offers.

“Are you sure?” you laugh quietly.

Lo’ak thinks a moment before nodding his head.

“Yeah, green,” he finalizes. “And blue.”

He barely notices that you’d fallen behind, and when he turns to look over his shoulder, he sees that you’re scratching something into your little journal.

“And your favorite fruit?” you press, nose still between the pages.

Lo’ak breathes out a laugh and your head shoots up.

“What? You gonna send this list to the lab?” Lo’ak asks.

You give him a shy smile, shifting on your feet.

“No,” you say softly, then whisper to yourself, “just compiling a list to win your heart.”

Lo’ak barely hears you, ears twitching as his eyes narrow in confusion.

“What?” he asks.

You snap your notebook shut, shaking your head quickly as you pad through the grass to catch up to him.

“Nothing.”

Something ripples in the fabric after that night, you and Neteyam both notice when Lo’ak enters the training clearing the next afternoon and greets you with a nod instead of flat out ignoring your presence like he had the last training session.

And you think that the moment is fleeting, a one off, but as the days progress, you realize that maybe Lo’ak is finally softening around you.

He stays for entire lessons, the most minute of smiles twitching at his lips whenever you compliment his shots. He waits near the edge for you as you pack up your things, and while the walk back to the village is a quiet one, you bask in his company, triumphant when he doesn’t run off.

And while your evening walks are few and far between, you savor the moments he affords you, wedging yourself between him the crumbling walls of his facade.

Tonight is one of those moments, sitting on adjacent branches overlooking the lively forest, when Lo’ak lets you peek farther into his life than he’d originally intended.

“He never understands,” he sighs, popping a few berries from his satchel past his lips.

Tonight’s topic is his father and you listen intently, eyes fixed on the way he reclines on the branch and looks up at the stars.

“I try hard, you know? To make everyone proud, but all they see is my failure,” he says, obviously annoyed. “No matter what I do, it’s not good enough.”

“You do great things, Lo’ak,” you say quietly, the first words you’ve said all night.

And like your voice is a reminder, Lo’ak’s spine goes rigid, throat bobbing as he realizes that he may have said too much to you. He’s getting too comfortable and you’re all the willing to absorb every insecurity and every worry he has.

But something about quiet moments like these makes him loose-lipped, eyes fluttering to where you’ve got your notebook balanced in the seam of your thighs, scrawling something on the pages as you eat your own berries.

The words are leaving him before he can stop them.

“Easy for you to say,” he murmurs. “You’re perfect.”

The laugh that escapes you startles him and a few of the berries he was about to devour slips from his fingers and plunk down the leaves.

“I’m not perfect,” you assure him.

“Only someone who’s perfect would say that,” Lo’ak grumbles, peering over the edge of the branches to spot his fallen fruit. “The whole village loves you, everyone’s always so ready to bat for you.”

You look down at the pages of your journal with a sad smile.

“It’s a lot of pressure,” you admit quietly. “Everyone’s watching your every move, waiting for you to mess up.”

Lo’ak shifts uncomfortably.

You continue.

“And most of the villagers our age don’t like me,” you say, thumbing one of the pages. “They say I kiss ass, that I’m always trying to keep a leg up.”

Lo’ak winces, knowing that he’s the source of at least one of those sentiments.

“The elders think you’re honorable,” Lo’ak argues gently. “You’re talented, you have something to offer the people.”

“Honor means nothing if you’re bound by it,” you say finally, closing the cover to your journal. “If anything, I want to be more like you.”

“Like me?” Lo’ak asks incredulously, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You nod, smiling at him.

“Yeah,” you whisper. “I think you’re brave, fearless. And even if you care what people think, you do what you want.”

Lo’ak is quiet, taken aback by your confession.

Before he can respond, you’re gathering your things, bidding him a warm farewell as you begin climbing down the tree to disappear into the night.

After that night, you think that maybe you’re just imagining things, that you’re reading too much into the fact that Lo’ak has begun to finally act like you exist, but then Kiri says something and the hope sends your heart soaring.

“Seems like he finally got his head out of his ass,” she says a few mornings later as you two stand near a shallow stream, eyes peeled for any fish you two could bring back to the village.

“Think so?” you ask nervously, arrow trapping the flailing fish to the pebbles of the stream’s bed.

Kiri shrugs.

“He actually pays you mind now,” Kiri observes. “That’s a step up for sure. I think you just need to spend more time with him.”

You smile, splashing through shallow waters to capture the fish and add it to the growing pile in the basket between you and the middle Sully.

“Yeah?” you wonder

So you test the theory, basket filled with various peeled fruits and a little container of nectar you squeezed from the petals of a flower.

It doesn’t take long to hunt him down. When you enter the training circle, he’s packing up his things, quiver strapped to his back and bow in his fist.

Before you make yourself known, he’s turning on his heel to face you, eyes wild as he swallows down the lump in his throat.

He’d be the last to admit that the last night you two spent together was branded in his brain, that his mouth had dried up so much so he felt his tongue could crack.

There were so many implications in your words and it horrified him, scared him so much that he knew he couldn’t let you that close again.

But now you stand before him, pretty as can be, hopeful even, and he’s at a war with himself, absolutely caught between resenting you for being everything he’s not and giving into the draw.

“Hi,” you greet, basket heavy in your hands.

You look more radiant than usual, skirt brushing the forest floor, the woven vine of your top banded to expose your midriff.

“Hey,” he replies hesitantly.

“Where you going?” you ask curiously.

His throat bobs as he gestures behind him.

“Hunting,” is all he says.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” you ask eagerly.

He doesn’t. He shouldn’t. Because things are shifting and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to stomach the change. If he’ll be able to admit to himself that you’re wearing him thin, that you make him feel things he’s never felt before and that it makes him feel like he has no control.

Because when it boils down to it, you make him lose control, make him lose his filter, and make him feel every emotion twice as hard.

“No,” he says.

And in that moment, you feel like you’re back at square one, watching as his eyes turn stony and his jaw sets firmly.

“You shouldn’t go hunting on your own,” you say softly. “Will someone be with you?”

“It’s fine,” he argues. “I’m fine.”

“I can go with you!” you offer. “I thought maybe we could sit by the stream and talk, but we can go hunting instead. We can–”

“No,” he says again, pinning you with eyes so lethal, it makes you wonder if you really had imagined the moments you shared with him, if you had imagined Kiri telling you that she saw it too.

You try again anyways.

“It’ll be good practice and–”

“I said no, ________,” he barks. “You’re dead weight and I want to be alone.”

Your lips seal and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Lo’ak could nearly scream in frustration when he notices the way your shoulders sag and it makes something in his heart cinch.

“Okay,” you agree, nodding quickly. “Be safe and–”

The words die on your tongue when you notice the look of annoyance on Lo’ak’s face.

Lo’ak is in deep shit, you come to find out hours later.

You sit outside of the training circle, knowing that Lo’ak will return down the path after his hunting trip. What you don’t expect, however, is Jake and Neytiri emerging with the entire line of Sully kids and Spider.

Jake grips the back of Lo’ak’s neck tightly as they march past wandering eyes, straight to the family tent. You don’t miss his wounds though, varying in depth, some bleeding, some sore.

You’re hot on their heels, standing right outside of the entrance as Jake tears into the middle Sully.

“Time and time again, I have to get on your ass for doing the complete opposite of what I ask you to do!” Jake’s voice is thunderous inside the tent. “Do you not realize that you not only risked your life but your sisters’ too?”

There’s a beat of silence before Jake continues, obviously pacing from the way his volume fluctuates.

“And what were you thinking bringing Tuk? She’s nine, Lo’ak!” he shouts, the anger and the hurt evident in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” Lo’ak mumbles.

“Yeah, I bet you are!” Jake scolds. “I don’t ask for much. All I want is for you stay in line. Just stay out of trouble and work hard on your training. I paired you with ________ and Neteyam in hopes that maybe you’ll tighten up and be more like them, but you’re always disappointing me.”

You frown.

Whatever Lo’ak had done probably didn’t warrant such deep admonishment and something tugs especially hard at your heartstrings knowing that all he wants to do is make his dad proud.

“You’re surrounded by good influences, but you always have to go against the grain, Lo’ak,” Jake says, the edge in his tone softening. “I’m getting tired of the bullshit, son. You need to clean up your act. Hear me?”

“Yes sir,” Lo’ak says quietly, voice almost a whisper behind the hide of the tent.

“Now go get yourself cleaned up,” Jake huffs.

Your spine is straightening when you hear foot steps closing in, holding your breath as the flap to the tent billows open and Lo’ak is emerging.

His eyes flit to yours and his expression sours further.

“Lo’ak,” you murmur, reaching out to him.

He’s shrugging you away, wincing when a wound on his shoulder stretches especially taut.

“You’re hurt,” you say quietly. “I’ll–”

“Leave me alone,” he says, eerily level.

“But you’re–”

“I said leave me alone, ________,” he warns, pushing past you in what should be the pursuit of his grandmother’s quarters.

Instead he’s making a beeline for the jungle.

You’d seen the look in his eye before he stonewalled you, seen the hurt and heaviness that most people didn’t seem to notice because he was always so adventurous and carefree.

You follow after him.

“Lo’ak, you know he’s only worried for you,” you try to reason gently, fingers reaching for his own as you duck under massive leaves and fluttering insects.

He whirls to face you, swatting your hand away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he bites. “You don’t know anything.”

You swallow, holding your hand to your chest as you watch him lay down every brick to wall himself off.

He hates it. He hates how you look at him, how you seem to pity the life he has to live. It makes him sick, thinking that you two have it the same. He’d rather be hated for being great than hated for being a let down. It’s insulting, how you think you know how it feels.

“Let’s go back. I’ll wrap your wounds and–”

“Of course, clan’s golden girl is gonna patch me up and make it all better, huh?” he seethes facetiously. “Just fuck off!”

You flinch, blinking at the boy you holds so much rage in front of you.

“I know you’re hurting, but you don’t have to be mean,” you whisper, taking in a shuddering breath to will yourself not to cry.

“Mean? Mean?” Lo’ak bristles. “I’ve tried telling you to lay off nicely, tried telling you to just leave me alone, but you don’t listen. You just pry and overstep and you make every little thing about you! Oh, it’s so much pressure, villagers our age hate me, of course they would! You already have everything and just have to go rub salt in the wound!”

You shrink, eyes welling as your lip trembles.

“Lo’ak, stop,” you whimper.

“We’re not friends, ________.We never were and we never will because I don’t like you,” he spits. “Now please, for the love of god, will you just leave me alone!”

The forest is silent save for Lo’ak’s ragged breathing, fists clenched as he glares down at you.

“I-” Your breath hitches and you choke out an apology. “I’m sorry.”

Lo’ak’s heart softens a fraction as you take a step back, turning quickly on your heel.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” you rasp, tripping over your own feet as you stumble into a run, putting as much space as you can between you and the middle child who stands in the middle of the forest, unable to wrangle every harsh word he’d said to force back down his throat.

You dropped your journal.

Lo’ak is sure you’re looking for it, know that you’ve always got your nose stuck in it. You had dropped it running off and now he has its leather bound in his hands.

It’s been a couple of nights since the faithful evening he’d blown his top and he’d only seen whispers of you. It was so unlike you to disappear, to not be entertaining the masses as they fell to your feet.

He’d cooled off significantly, and when he replayed the conversation in his head, he winced, body folding in on itself as he realizes how harsh he’d been.

“Are you actually thinking thoughts?” Spider claps him on the shoulder, startling him so badly he drops the journal.

It lands spine down, the pages fluttering open.

He chances a peek before Spider is rounding his lithe figure to pick up the notebook. All he makes out is a rough sketch.

“You write?” Spider asks, intrigued.

“No, it’s ________’s,” Lo’ak answers.

“Oh, your little girlfriend’s?”

Lo’ak gives the human a cross look, snatching the book from his grasp as he stands up.

“Trouble in paradise?” Spider pries, scurrying to keep up with Lo’ak’s long strides.

A beat of silence before Lo’ak finally answers.

“Made her cry,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

Spider winces behind him.

“You serious?”

Lo’ak sighs.

“Yes, dude, fuck,” he breathes, hand coming to the back of his neck. “I don’t know what came over me. Dad was ripping me a new one and Neteyam already chewed me out before they got there and she was being annoying, so I just…”

“Bro,” Spider scoffs in disbelief, scratching the back of his head. “You’re a real dickhead sometimes.”

Lo’ak’s eyes wander as he shifts uncomfortably, feeling incredibly small as his friend glares up at him.

“I mean, I told her I wanted to be left alone!” Lo’ak tries to defend weakly. “I- I didn’t mean to.”

“She likes you a lot, dude,” Spider reiterates. “She just wants you to like her back.”

Despite the glaring signs, Lo’ak has trouble believing that your feelings for him far surpass charity work. They couldn’t, it was impossible. Because at the end of the day, you’re you and he’s…him.

He opens his mouth to say something, but Spider beats him to it.

“Did you at least apologize?”

Lo’ak squirms.

“Dude!”

“Look, I know, I know,” he tries to assuage the situation.

“________ is literally the sweetest girl in the entire clan you just–“

“I get it, bro, I get it!” Lo’ak huffs.

“Get your head out of your ass,” Spider says. “She might not stick around long enough for you to realize.”

“Realize what?” Lo’ak snaps.

“Are you really gonna play stupid right now?”

He blinks at the human.

“You like ________,” Spider says matter-of-factly. “You always have, ever since we were kids.”

“Oh, piss off,” Lo’ak grumbles.

“Dude, you’re literally my best friend, but I sometimes I wanna shove my foot so far up your–”

“I do not like ________,” Lo’ak says sharply.

“Everyone sees it but you, dipshit,” Spider scoffs. “You like her, but you’re scared. She’s perfect and she intimidates you. Think she’s gonna see you for what you really are and turn her back on you like everyone else does when you fuck up, but she’s not like that, Lo’ak. She’s been there whether you like it or not. But she might not always.”

Lo’ak swallows down the knot in his throat, fingers tightening around the notebook.

“Everything clicking?” Spider asks knowingly.

Lo’ak throws him a final narrowed glare before stalking off.

It’s Lo’ak’s birthday and just like every orbit, he spends it alone in the forest.

At first, he’d been burdened with the weight of hurting your feelings, but now his conversation with Spider weighs heavy on him as he climbs dirt walkways and flowered paths.

It doesn’t help that your notebook weighs heavy in his satchel, a silent reminder that he still has a piece of you while you cling to his peace of mind.

I think you’re brave, fearless. They’re the words you uttered to him that fateful night you turned the reality of you two on its axis.

As he splices all the moments you two shared like a reel, he realizes that it’s endless. That you’re always there, you’d always been there, like a layer of impenetrable atmosphere surrounding him.

He really should apologize, he knows this much, but you’ve disappeared like a wisp of smoke. Training sessions have returned to a sibling affair and he’s too prideful to ask about you.

It’s almost eclipse when he begins making his way back for the evening meal, knowing that a scolding will await if he arrives even a minute late.

After what had happened with you, he was lying low, trying to diminish his blip from the radar.

As he closes in on the village’s main circle, he notes that it’s quiet. A little too quiet. It puts him on edge, makes him draw his bow and feel around for an arrow in his quiver.

A few more paces and he’s broken into the clearing, a few stragglers milling about. Another half a dozen steps and it’s like the forest melts into a celebration, whorls of blue pouring into the circle as villagers begin trilling.

Lo’ak is hoisted into the air as the dying fire in the center of the camp begins to slowly roar.

“Happy birthday, baby bro!” Neteyam caws loudly as they begin jostling him into the air, chanting and dancing as the dense crowd of clanspeople celebrate him.

It’s like time slows as he peers from side to side eagerly, seeing the way Spider, Kiri and Tuk dance happily among his people. Jake and Neytiri stand near the fire, smiles wide when they see the look of awe on their middle son’s face.

When he’s finally set on his feet, he wobbles, childlike as he turns, taking in the glowing streamers that crisscross between the tents. Flowers of green and blue thread through the vines, gleaming like lamplight as the forest buzzes around them.

“Wha– What is all this?” Lo’ak croaks in disbelief, eyes flitting wildly as he notices Norm and Max standing next to a table they’d hauled from the pod to the circle, piled high with meats and vegetables wrapped in leaves.

A platter of yovo fruits, his favorite, are at the center, surrounded by a painted sign with his name and the handprints of dozens of villagers on it.

“You survived another orbit!” Neteyam laughs heartily, head-locking the younger boy before roughly digging his knuckles into the top of his head.

A laugh bubbles from Lo’ak’s lips, swatting his brother away as villagers and clan members he’d grown up with approach him one by one to greet him.

As the night progresses, he doesn’t even realize he’s searching until your mother approaches and his spine goes rigid, cheeks warming under her piercing gaze.

“From my ________,” she says, setting a pouch into his palms. “She toiled over these for many eclipses. Please take care.”

Lo’ak’s nod is delayed as his satchel shifts on his shoulders, a dull reminder that your journal still remains with him, begging to be read.

“Where– Where is she?” he asks suddenly, feeling your absence all the more now that your gift sits in the palm of his hand.

“My daughter does not feel well,” your mother says simply. “She wished to be excused from the festivities.”

His chest feels hollow, stomach tight as his cheeks burn. You’d mentioned this to him, all those days ago in the training circle, about wanting to celebrate with him.

His eyes flit to the flowers looped through the vines, the mountain of yovo fruits, the gift in his hands. He doesn’t want to be presumptuous. Doesn’t want to fuel the tiniest ember of hope in chest, but he can’t help it.

He can’t help but read into it, into the implications of this celebration you’d planned all for him, into every word you uttered to him in the quiet of the forest’s chirping.

It’s all it takes for him to lock himself in his own head. The feast melts into the background, dull, as his eyes cut the crowd for you.

You have to be here, gotta be hanging around the outskirts silently. The idea taunts him, makes his gut twist hard as images of you dancing in the circle, singing to him, celebrating him, loving him—

Lo’ak freezes, blinking incredulously at the thought that’d just crossed his brain. It makes him queasy, makes the regret and the guilt gnaw at every nerve ending as your crying face flashes like an unwanted slideshow in his brain.

It’s all he can think about as the festivities die, as villagers begin turning in the for the night and he helps his family clean up the aftermath of another orbit finally finished.

Spider helps Tuk and Neteyam near the fire, and as Lo’ak moves through the motions like he’s caught in a tide, Kiri watches, knowing all too well what consumes her brother’s mind.

It isn’t until Lo’ak is shrouded by the stillness of the early morning, his family tucked in their tent, bodies and limbs splayed as they sleep together, that he sits in a swinging hammock, your journal and the pouch in his lap.

It feels wrong, the way he thumbs the cover, working up the courage to turn it open. But Ewya, fate, would have never left it in his wake if it wasn’t meant to be read.

As his finger ghosts the etchings of the front cover, worn and loved by you, something tickles his leg as he admires the leather. He blinks in disbelief when he sees a singular woodsprite resting against his thigh.

Before he loses his nerve, he’s opening the pages with bated breath.

Recipes, nature notes, short thoughts fill the sheets and Lo’ak feels like he’s reading into your brain, seeing all the little things no one bothers to know.

he is like the sun,

shines so bright,

but burns the closer you get.

Lo’ak’s pointer finger glosses over the ink, over your curly handwriting.

he is so incredible, but he doesn’t even know it. i want to shout it to every creature in the forest, every tree and every flower. oh, how i wish to be as fearless as him.

His chest heaves as the words blur.

Fearless.

In this moment, he feels everything but. He feels like a coward.

He continues to flip, throat lodged as he sees drawings, both rough sketches and full renderings. He hadn’t even known that you liked to draw, yet here he was, observing his home through your artistic eye.

Flowers, leaves, trees, creatures, insects, fruits mar the stained papers, etched like it’d been caught in real time.

likes green and blue.

likes yovo fruits.

The entry from the day you’d first walked with him through the forest.

When he turns the page, his breath hitches.

In full color, you’d captured his bullseye from your first training session. His back taut from the release, expression shaded stoic. He looked mighty, like the strongest warrior, and it was all through your eyes.

Lo’ak doesn’t even realize he’s crying until the bullseye in the illustration bleeds from a fallen tear. Another one drips from his chin, then another.

The next page is the night you two had poured your hearts out to each other. Again, in full color, he’s watching the stars. You don’t leave out the glow of the freckles that smatter his face and body, don’t miss the smile that plays at his lips as he quietly points out that his dad had come from a star.

He flips again and different iterations and designs for what seems like jewelry litters the pages, shaded with different colors of blue and green, marked with varying notes, x’s marking through ideas you didn’t like.

Lo’ak remembers the pouch, sitting untouched in his lap, and his shaky fingers undo the ties. He shakes the contents on the flat of the notebook and the most intricate beadwork fits into the crease.

His eyes widen as he picks up the necklace in a trembling hand, the eclipsing sun catching the etching in the flat stones.

Four five-fingered hands and four four-fingered ones, each separated by jewels scavenged and cleaned from the bed of the glowing river.

A small scroll flutters from the pouch and Lo’ak chokes back as sob as he unrolls the hide.

Happy Birthday, Lo’ak. I am always grateful to know someone like you. May your next orbit be filled with endless blessings from Ewya and may you see yourself how I see you.

You see him, he realizes. You’re his supporter, a silent force that consumes every insecurity and swallows every doubt. You believe in him more than he believes in himself.

He stands from the hammock and runs.

You’re sitting in the same tree the two of you had rested in the night you’d confided in Lo’ak, watching as the sun eclipses and begins to light up the sparkling forest.

Something rustles and you sit up, hand on the hilt of your dagger as you search the area for movement.

As your eyes lock on the source, you almost wish it had been a beast coming to devour you whole. But as Lo’ak climbs the branches of the tree quickly, you feel the dread begin to solidify in your veins.

You take your satchel, hanging from a nearby branch and sling it over your shoulder, pulling your shawl over your head to prepare for your escape.

“________, wait,” he chokes breathlessly. “Please.”

You feel like crying all over again, feel so unbelievably stupid thinking that Lo’ak would ever see you the way that you see him.

You pause a beat as he settles on the branch across from yours, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath.

Something glints in the sun and your eyes widen when you see that Lo’ak has fastened the necklace you made him around his neck, right above the the leather chain that holds his beloved claw charm.

“You’re wearing it,” you whisper, lips twitching into a frown as you try your best to keep your tears at bay.

“I’m sorry, ________,” Lo’ak apologizes hoarsely. “Fuck, you don’t understand how sorry I am.”

The tears well on their own.

We’re not friends. We never were and we never will.

The words haunt you like a broken record and you shake your head, moving from your perch to move down the branches.

“Wait, wait,” Lo’ak pleads. “Please don’t go, I–”

“I hate you,” you whisper. “I hate you, Lo’ak.”

He freezes, watching as you balance on a branch below.

“I tried so hard to be your friend,” you whimper, angrily wiping away your tears. “You’re amazing. You’re strong, and you’re fearless, and you are everything I want to be, but you’re heartless.”

Lo’ak lets out a shuddering breath, a chill running down his spine as you look up at him like he’d smashed every star in the sky.

“I wanted to be with you, you know?” you let out a watery laugh. “I hoped that maybe if I stuck it out, you’d see how much I cared, how badly I wanted to be with you, even if it was from a distance.”

“I do, _________, I do!” he argues.

He hadn’t always, but he sees it now. He sees you.

You shake your head again.

“You don’t,” you sigh, voice trembling. “It’s my fault anyways. You were right. You told me to leave you alone and I was being too much.”

“Stop–”

“Let this be the last time,” you assure him. “Let’s just– Let’s pretend we never met.”

“No, _________. Wait!”

You’re climbing down the tree and disappearing into the brush and, like a fleck of ash, you’re disintegrating into nothingness.

Most people think he’s being moody, that he’s just been scolded by his father or older brother, but Neytiri knows better.

She sees the way her son has changed over the course of the past few weeks. She knows there is a great burden that he carries, but much like her beloved and her eldest, he suffers in silence.

“Maitan,” she says quietly, brushing a braid from his face as he folds the leaves around a chunk of steaming meat.

Lo’ak pauses almost imperceptibly, but continues his task.

It isn’t like him to stay home and work with Neytiri. If anything, he’d be the first one out of the tent, Tuk, Spider, and Kiri tailing after him as they galavant through the endless forest.

“Something weighs heavy in your heart,” she tries again, hand coming over his.

Lo’ak stops and leans back, unable to meet his mother’s searching gaze.

“I hurt someone,” he says quietly.

Neytiri stiffens.

“What?”

“I hurt someone I care about,” Lo’ak admits. You’d called him fearless, strong. He needed to live by your word. “I hurt her and I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Oh, Lo’ak,” she murmurs, squeezing his hand gently.

Her face has softened as she takes in his stony expression.

“My son, some things cannot be fixed,” she says honestly. “But all things require great effort. Sometimes those efforts will fall through, but that is the natural order of life.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Whoever this special person is, if you have hurt her, she deserves the full effort of your heart, no?”

You do, he knows you do. You deserve every last effort. But a niggling streak of insecurity tells him that you don’t deserve someone like him. You don’t deserve someone who takes your affections for granted. You deserve someone who will love you with every breath, who will love you fearlessly.

“I really messed things up, Mom,” Lo’ak says quietly. “I don’t…”

Neytiri’s hand comes to Lo’ak chest.

“The night I first met your father, Ewya gave me sign,” she says. “He has a pure, strong heart. You do too.”

Lo’ak swallows.

“Be brave, Maitan,” she says. “Sometimes that is enough.”

Lo’ak’s fingers hurt from picking berries.

His cuticles bleed, pricked by the thorns of the fruit’s bush. Kiri hums beside him, weaving a little bag out of ropes of thin vines.

“You’re not gonna help me?” he whines.

“Why should I help you with your mess?”

You look beautiful under the glow of the evening meal’s crackling fire. It’s the first time you’ve emerged since before Lo’ak’s birthday feast and you’re being flocked by elders and villagers, wishing you well and asking about your supposed ailment.

He sits across the fire, fists tight as he searches for a lull in the crowd.

Spider snickers next to him, devouring the contents of his plate like he’s starved, watching Lo’ak’s useless pining like a show.

Be brave.

He’s standing to his feet before he can back out, crossing the circle to approach you. The villagers watch like they know something he doesn’t and the nerves are eating away at him as he steps into your space.

You look up from your conversation with a girl your age, the smile slipping from your lips.

“Can we talk?” Lo’ak asks, eyes wandering to watch the way everyone watches him.

You remain jaded.

“Now’s not a good time,” you say quietly and a few onlookers snicker in the background. “________,” Lo’ak tries again.

You stare up at him, the shadow of the fire dancing over your features as you seemingly look right through him. It’s humiliating, the way you remain seated and watch him fidget, but he figures he deserves the cold shoulder after months, years of casting you to the side.

“Let’s go?” you ask the girl, nodding your head over your shoulder.

The girl chances a glance between you and Lo’ak, noticing the telltale sign of your work etched into the stones of the choker he hadn’t taken off since his birthday.

She gives him a sympathetic smile as she follows after you.

He’s going to have to try a lot harder than he has, he realizes as your birthday looms right around the corner. The next eclipse, in fact.

He’s losing hope, losing courage, but he can’t give up on you two just yet.

He makes sure the berries he picked the days prior are packed tightly in his bag, the lid to the nectar fastened, and his present wrapped nicely.

It’s his last hope, his last shot to make things right.

Spider, Tuk, and Neytiri surround him, Neteyam and Jake off on a hunt.

They’d all been privy to the fact, aiding him in his endeavors as he organized his final grapple with your heart.

“Kiri said she’ll bring her right before eclipse,” Spider says, peeking from the flap of the tent. “That’s in, like, minutes.”

Lo’ak is nervous. Doesn’t know what he’ll do if he loses you for good, but he knows he has to give it his best effort. It’s the least you deserve.

Be brave. Sometimes that is enough.

Lo’ak glances at his mom and she gives him a warm smile, ruffling his braids.

“You are the son of Toruk Makto,” she assures him, pinching his cheek. “There is nothing you cannot do.”

The words are carved into his brain as he rushes through the forest, the the stream that the curls and bends through the forest. It glows beautifully at night and that is his final push.

“Wait, give me like three seconds, I left something.” Kiri’s voice is muffled behind the trees.

“Huh?” Lo’ak sees the way your head tilts through an opening in the foliage.

“I’ll only be a second!”

“Wait, Kiri!”

Kiri is running straight for him, comes barreling through the bushes, and continues down the path.

“Good luck, egghead!”

Lo’ak takes in a final breath to quell the tremor in his hands before ducking through the bushes to reveal himself.

You’re sitting on the embankment, on a woven mat that Kiri had laid out for you two, decorative vines edging the seams.

“Oh, you were–”

You peer over your shoulder and your expression falls.

“Lo’ak…”

“Happy birthday, ________,” he breathes.

You don’t look amused, slinging your bag over you shoulder as you rise to your feet.

“Kiri and I are hanging out,” you tell him.

He scratches the back of his head.

“I…I had Kiri bring you here because I knew that you wouldn’t come with me if I asked,” he admits. “And of course, I don’t blame you, but I– I just really need to talk to you.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, unable to look him in his eyes as he draws nearer.

“Just give me some time, please,” he pleads.

You finally meet his gaze, searching his eyes as he looks down at you earnestly.

You give him the tiniest nod, reluctantly shedding your satchel to reassume your seat on the mat.

The waters rush gently, like a song as Lo’ak lowers himself next to you.

His palms are clammy as he fidgets in his seat, the scent of herbs and flowers wafting from your dewy skin. He can’t bring himself to look at you, afraid that every sentiment he’d crafted in the hours of the night will escape him, so he watches the bubbling of the stream.

“Well?” you whisper, like you don’t want to shatter the fragile sheath of peace that layers you.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I know I’ve said it already, but I really am, ________.”

“I know,” you murmur and his gaze flits to yours. “Even if you don’t act like it, you have a good heart, Lo’ak. You feel everything, even the things you don’t want to.”

He swallows.

“I didn’t mean it,” he says carefully. “I was mad and I took it out on you. That wasn’t fair.”

You sit silently, knees hugged to your chest. Your cheek rests against your knee, watching Lo’ak with seeing eyes. It makes him trip over his words.

“My whole life, I’ve always been compared to Neteyam,” he says. “The entire village would whisper about me and how I was nothing like the mighty warrior.”

When he glances at you, he notices your fingers twitch, like you want to reach out to him.

He squashes his fears and turns to face you, five-fingered hand coming up to thread with your four. You watch the union, uncertainty obvious in the way you tense, but Lo’ak squeezes.

“And then when we started growing up, you were just another person I had to live up to,” Lo’ak whispers. “You’re perfect, ________. You’re kind, and you’re smart, talented. You’re everything I’m not and it made me hate you.”

You shrink, but Lo’ak pulls you towards him, hand coming up to brush your cheek.

“But you’re all of that and more,” he continues, the words gushing like a river. “You’re always there, you support me and you defend me and see things I don’t.”

You become shy under his gaze because for the first time, he’s seeing you. He’s seeing you for every single thing you’ve been to him and it makes your stomach knot.

“I have something to tell you,” he says. “Please don’t be mad at me.”

Your gaze is soft, palm still in his as he turns and reaches into the bag he discarded next to him. Your eyes widen when he produces your notebook, edges curled the slightest as he hands it to you.

“My journal,” you say, taking it from him quickly. “I’ve been looking for this. Why- Why do you have it?”

He looks guilty, lips rolling as he avoids your gaze.

“Did you…”

“I wasn’t going to,” he admits. “But there were woodsprites and I knew it was a s–”

“Lo’ak this is private,” you murmur incredulously. “Why would you read this?”

“How long, ________?” he asks quietly, grip on your hand tightening.

“Lo’ak, don’t–”

“How long?” he presses desperately.

Your eyes are watering, like that wicked night all over again and Lo’ak begs Eywa for the final push.

“Since we were ten,” you whisper brokenly. “It was my first performance and it was so stupid, but I was throwing up because I was nervous and you talked me through it.”

Lo’ak is stunned, the memory like the faintest of outlines.

“We didn’t even know each other that well,” you hiccup. “But you patted me on the back and you gave me this–”

You pull your fingers from his grasp and flip the journal to the last page, revealing a hidden pocket. Your nimble fingers pull a tattered string, the remnants of a vine, threaded with wilted flower petals, preserved from being pressed inside your notebook.

“You said that they made you make it during lessons,” you say, breath hitching. “That it’d be my good luck.”

He’d forgotten all about the memory completely, too caught up in driving whatever wedge he could between you two, building up walls to seal you out.

“And you kept it this whole time?” he asks, face scrunched in disbelief.

“I’d hold on to anything you give me,” you admit in defeat. “Heartbreak included.”

He lets out a shaky breath.

“________, I’m so sorry,” he repeats, hand coming up to your neck. “You have to know that. I’m really fucking stupid, but if you give us a shot, I won’t mess it up.”

Your hand comes up to his wrist, crumpling as you bow your head.

“Don’t do this to me,” you beg, moving to break away from him.

“Please.”

His hold tightens, other hand twining with yours.

“If I…if I give myself to you, I’m giving you everything,” you say hesitantly. “If you break this, you break me. I don’t think I can come back from this.”

Lo’ak presses his forehead to yours, breath warm against your lips as he searches your gaze for any semblance of hope.

“This is me being fearless, ________,” he whispers.

You melt, pressing your lips to his tentatively. He’s frozen for the shortest of moments before relenting, pushing up onto his knees to deepen the kiss.

He’s cradling your face and your hands are wandering and Lo’ak can’t help but think he could get used to loving you.

To being loved by you.

BONUS

“I was gonna give it to you on your birthday,” Lo’ak says sheepishly a few nights later under the stars. “But, you know…”

Your usual place among the branches of the looming trees have a lot of memories both bitter and sweet, but you suppose you could make new ones.

“You don’t have to give me anything,” you say sweetly, tail swishing to wrap around his ankle. “You’re all I need.”

Lo’ak doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to your saccharine words if the pounding in his chest is anything to go by.

His hands are shaky as he pushes the hide towards you, a bow made of vine tied neatly around the gift.

“Wanted to,” he says simply, moving the hair from you face to see your reaction better. “Open it.”

You’re gentle with the present, like you are with most things, but eager to see what he’d gotten you.

A tiny gasp falls from your lips when you finally see it, wide eyes meeting his as you free the jars of paints he’d mashed up, the brushes he fashioned, and the brand new journal he bound himself.

“Lo’ak, wow…”

“So you can paint me more,” he says, then adds timidly. “Or maybe us. Maybe you could paint us.”

an — holy shit guys, this was such a big project for me because i really wanted to dive into so many different things in this fic. to everyone who was waiting patiently, thank you sososo much. as usual, i took a lot of creative liberties with this one, but i hope you guys enjoyed nonetheless! although requests are paused for me to catch up, like always, if you wanna chat with me about literally anything, my askbox is open. lots of love hehehe :) xx

taglist: @nao-cchi , @jkiminpark , @philiasoul @amart-e , @s-u-t , @netesbby , @tayswiftlovebot , @dumb-fawkin-bitch , @ewackmn

#lo'ak x reader #lo'ak sully #avatar the way of water #avatar way of water #avatar #atwow #avatar the movie #lo'ak imagine #lo'ak avatar #lo'ak angst #lo'ak fanfiction

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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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sports-on-sundays · 5 months

Text

boulevard of broken dreams / LN4 / Part 1

Summary: Lando x female!reader - Not many people know how true loneliness feels. Not many people know how true love feels.

Warnings: lots of description, angst, mention of self-harm, loneliness, pain, mention of death of a family member, dreams ruined, emotional pain, getting drunk to ease pain, change from 2nd person to 3rd when it felt right, panicking, jumping to worst case scenario, nausea, screaming, confusion, questioning will to live, blood, kind of violent dramatic descriptions. PLEASE do not read if you seriously struggle with some things like this! I would hate to cause anyone to feel more pain!!

Requested?: Mate nah.

Author's Note: I just wanted to write a thing. Listened to sad piano music and Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day writing it. I hope you enjoy. Personally, I'm really proud of this one. Let's hope I got all the warnings in hah! Link to part 2

Sunshine, moonlight, daylight, night light, night life. On, off, under, over, around, on, and off again.

In the middle of your heart, if someone could dig deep down and pick through you, examine you, dissect you, they would find the softest little bleeding bit. But they would only find that after knocking down wall after all of slimy, tough, terribly dark black walls. No one would be able to find the strength to knock all those walls down. And even if they could, you'd never let them.

One can only be vulnerable if there is someone there to have their back.

All the vulnerability is pushed to that one little section of your heart; the most delicate place on earth.

All the pain.

It's impossible.

This road.

This road is made of brick and it's slippery. It's constantly raining. And you're constantly shivering. No one gave you an umbrella, because there's no one on this road to do so. Night after night, this rain beats on you. Your skin degrades away as if you were dead. For daytime does not exist on this road. You forget how sunlight looks. You constantly walk. Never wanting to sleep because the only place is the road. And you hate this road.

Yet it is your home, and any different would terrify you.

The friends on this road are the shadows. Shadows in the night caress your arms and kiss your cheeks, whispering of false realities, forgotten memories, and broken dreams.

On this boulevard of broken dreams.

There's no conscience of the pain any longer. You're so used to it, you're numb. And that's the way it should be. All you need is to survive.

You always ask yourself why. But if you're asking the question, why would you also know the answer?

There is no one on this road who knows the answer, and there never will be. If anyone knew the answer, then they wouldn't be on this road.

Stairways to heaven and highways to hell.

You're on the fast track to absolutely no where.

No one knows this road exists. You're one of the unseen. Most people live on the other side. They don't know this exists. Many of them are good people. They would help. If they could possibly stand it.

If they only knew. There's no way for you to call for help. All you hear is your voice echoing back at you as the dark starless sky closes in on you.

Like a snow globe. Never get in or out. Constant precipitation.

You're always shivering but you never get sick. At least not anymore.

Immunity.

Yes, and no one should be this immune.

No one should be this immune to this road.

Yet here you are.

On the boulevard of broken dreams.

9-5. 5-9. 24 hours non-stop.

Sunday is no different than Monday or Friday or Saturday or any other day of the week.

Money, money, money. Lots of people love it. Lots of people hate it.

Work, work, work. Get in the money to survive another day. Can't feel a thing because otherwise- how do you get through?

You get up, get dressed, get out the door, go to work, come home, get drunk, go to bed, and repeat it all over again.

Forever.

It's amazing how fast hope can be shattered with the cruel bitterness of this unfair world.

"Mama! I'm going to be a superhero!"

"Mama, I'm gonna be a football player."

"Mama! Mama! I've got it! I'm going to be a race car driver!"

And that time, you meant it.

Well, maybe you didn't, because it never came to pass. And your parents knew it. There was no way. Your family couldn't survive without government money.

But how can you explain that to a little kid? A little kid who had been told all her life that if you follow your dreams, they'll come true?

When you hold on to those dreams so hard, it's even more difficult to let them go. When you realized reality, you were ruined.

You were resigned to the fact that because of your position in society, broken heart, especially after your father passed away at a young age, and no chance to do what you dreamed of forever, that 9-5 in pain for the rest of your life was the path you were on.

The fast track to no where.

There's a girl in the corner, in the shadow, that no one would ever notice. High life superstars, and she's missing her heroes. Drunk, drunk, drunk.

She's missing them.

But one of them doesn't miss her.

Despite the crowd, despite the fun, the throng, the laughter, the music, the everything perfect after a good race, Lando sees.

He sees the girl in the corner that no one else ever notices.

"Do you need help?" in the gentlest of tones. He bends down, looking the broken, shell of a person, right through everything and into her eyes. Like he doesn't see the eye bags, the messed up hair, the cuts on her arms, the vacancy. Like he sees beyond the walls. Like he just wants to see the true person who has to be in there. Somewhere.

"Yeah," she murmurs. Her words slur, making it terribly difficult for the buzzed Formula One driver to understand her words. "Can you... get me another drink?"

You wake up the next morning, and as soon as you realize you don't remember what happened last night and you're in an unfamiliar bed and room, you feel your stomach drop. Your head feels like it's about to explode with the extreme ache in it. Nausea wells up and you swallow, filling yourself overflow with utter panic. The rate of your breath picks up, and as your chest rises and falls quicker and quicker, even if you wanted to call for some sort of help (if anyone would even come), you can't. You can hardly breathe, your vision becoming swirling and confusing as you gasp, feeling as if you're going to suffocate. You heartbeat pounds in your head faster and faster, and you realize that if anything happened right now, you'd have no way to save yourself. This sinks more extreme anxiety, and even more when you think of what could have already happened when you were drunk last night. What if you're stuck here, confused and panicking, with some creep who did unspeakable things to you last night-

The door to the room slowly swings open, and you cover your face in your heads, unable to set your eyes on whoever is there, just trying to breathe- stay alive- yet you're not even sure you want to keep living at this point.

"Hey, hey, hey," a soft speaking male voice says. You feel him come closer, and slip on the bed next to you. "Hey, I'm not here to hurt you," he practically whispers. "I brought you to my home, but only because... you were a wreck last night. Listen to me..." He speaks soothingly, but you still don't look up. "Listen. I think you might be having a panic attack, or something adjacent. And I'm here to help you, not hurt you. Okay?"

You nod, staring down. Just one hot tear slowly rolls down your cheek.

"Can I take your hand?"

You hesitate, before nodding. You feel the thin, strong, smooth hand slip into yours. "Breathe with me, okay?" he says softly, then starts taking in slow, deep breaths. With every inhale, he gently squeezes your hand, and with every exhale, gently releases it.

You go on like this, and once you've sighed, confident enough of your safety, you let go of the man's hand and look up at him.

For a second, you stare.

And then it clicks.

And your jaw drops.

"Are you... you..." you stutter in disbelief.

"Yeah, I'm Lando," he smiles.

You stare in shock at the man. "As in, like, the McLaren..."

"Yeah," he grins softly. "And I'll be right back, okay?"

"Lando-!" you squeal with a terrible, exhausted voice crack. Your emotions are so messed up right now.

He comes back and gives you a plate of food, sitting down next to you. You ignore the food for a moment and fix your eyes on him.

"Why am I here?" you ask softly.

"You needed help and I decided to give it."

Your heart pounds in your chest. You exhale slowly. "O- Okay.." These words from him are so strange to you. So unfamiliar. "I..." Suddenly, expected emotions well up within you. Uncommonly. You throw your arms around him and murmur, "Thank you... you're the... this is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me in years... And it's you. I must be in a dream... You're one of the reasons I'm still here... I love Formula One... I love... I love you..."

He hugs you back, before gently prodding, "Why don't you try to eat a bit."

You nod and turn to the little breakfast he's made. It's a bit bland, but you're glad for that. You're not feeling nearly at your best.

But at the same time, you're sitting next to Lando Norris.

Bittersweet and confusing.

"Thank you..." you murmur again.

"Of course you can say no," Lando starts. "But can I know your name? What's your story?"

You sigh. What hurt can it do to tell him? "Y/n. And I don't have much of a story."

"Really? Seems to me you'd have a pretty interesting one."

You shrug. "Just another broken life. There are plenty of those out there, Lando Norris."

"Clearly every broken life is important. Consider yourself."

You sigh. "Your story is the opposite of mine. Grew up rich, followed your dreams, perfect life."

There's a certain softness in his eyes. "What were your dreams?"

"Same as yours..." you murmur, your voice cracking. You hesitate, before finishing, "All I wanted was to be a race car driver. Nothing else more than that. And I would've done anything for it. If I could have."

Lando stares. You eat. There's a strange silence, before he says, "Did you kart?"

"For some years. It lasted about one and a half. Then my father passed away, and everything changed. Even more."

He stares down. "I'm sorry..." But then he looks up, his intense eyes meeting yours. He looks even better in real life. "Y/n, your story makes me so sad. I'm so sorry... I... I'd do anything I could to help you fulfill your dream, at least somewhat."

You look surprised. "Why? You have the perfect life. Why do you care? Besides, we both know full well it's too late for me."

He blinks and seems to ignore your last comment, likely because it's true and he doesn't want to admit it. "Because I have the perfect life. You deserve to be in Formula One just as much as me. Yet, we're... Well, in opposite places."

"Right..." You can hardly believe these words.

"You seem like such a... Well, something stole your innocence too soon. There's so much longing and brokenness and love in your eyes but you're just... A shell of the beautiful woman that's inside of you."

You blink. "Why do you say that?"

He murmurs after more hesitation, "Last night when you were drunk, you know what you did? Well you cried and you told me your struggles, yes. But before I was about to leave the room and let you sleep, you looked at right me and you said something like, 'I'm so lonely. Where did my life go? I can't stand this much longer. Sometimes I wish I just had someone- a friend, a neighbor, a boyfriend, a sibling- sometimes I wish I just had someone there for me.'"

You stare, now unblinking, unsure what to feel. It is true, isn't it?

Lando looks you straight in the eyes. Past everything. Into your most delicate, secret spot.

You fight back from letting yourself choke up.

"Y/n, if no one else will do it, I'd ought to be that person there for you. And I'd love to."

Moist and foggy, so nothing is visible. There are echoes of life in the outside world, but not on this road.

For the first time in years, your tired feet have stopped. Perhaps done. Had it with this. They're bloody and twisted from the years of this pain.

Where has the numbness gone?

The rain pours down

on this road

and you can't tell

if those are teardrops

or raindrops

streaming down your cheeks.

Suddenly, you see a light. A light that has found the end of the road that you've been searching for for years.

Don't lose it. Don't lose it.

You could use some company.

As the light nears, it hurts. You double over and fall down in the puddles of the road, screaming in pain. You're so used to the darkness. For years it's all you've known. The light hurts. It's terrifying.

The light comes closer and closer, faster and faster, and panic fills you, realizing there's no escape. Your eyes burn and you sob for it to let you go.

You hate this road. So why do you cry, begging to stay?

You tremble as the light approaches, covering your skin.

But when it reaches you, the expected terror is not what you experience. Instead, it's a feeling unfamiliar to you. Something that only the shadows would taunt you with. But this is it. The real one.

Tranquility.

Suddenly the beating of the rain stops.

You look up.

An umbrella.

And shining eyes.

You heart breaks once again, but this time you mind a bit less.

It's scary, but just what you wanted.

This light, this man, this sunshine.

This sunshine takes your hand and pulls you up. This sunshine leads you off this road. This boulevard of broken dreams.

This sunshine has come in and knocked down the walls.

Seen what's hidden. Stepped away and stepped into your misery. To help you.

A smile so bright.

And for the first time in forever.

You step off this road and you see the stars.

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semisolidmind · 10 months

Note

Has Peaches ever had a moment of relapse in her judgment with the boys? Let her guard down around her husbands in some way? Maybe it's a good day and maybe someday SWK says makes her laugh and Mac does a whole dramatic gig to go along with his brother; and for a moment, for one rare moment, Peaches is laughing and smiling.

Then, at night, when everyone is sleeping and the world is still- she sheds silent tears, not sure what's she's longing for because her freedom has long been dead.

reader has quite a few nights like this, i think.

and it would be really difficult to keep up the cold exterior you'd expect reader to maintain for such a long time. she'd do her best to shut them out, but... she still cares about them. before the abduction, before it was revealed to her that she couldn't leave, she did love wukong and macaque. a lot.

those feelings don't just go away.

and when the brothers continue to be sweet and charming, continue to show her a softness she knows they don't show in other aspects of their lives, reader can't help but want to give in a little bit. an eternity to spend with them, and she's really not sure she can stay bitter and angry through all of it.

it would be so, so easy to just ... let things go back to the way they used to be.

#bad end wukong #twice as bad au

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silvervioletvalentine · 11 months

Text

🏑!American boy! 🏑

Pairing: Quinn hughes x OC F1 driver Cherrie Valentine

Word count: 11k

Summary: in which she swears she’ll never be as stupid as her brother and fall in love in America when her whole life is back in Monaco.

Or ; the week of falling in love.

Warnings- fluff. Cherrie a bit of a drama queen, rich bitch? A bit of crapping on backward caps and america? I don’t even know. Mostly fluff I think . Cute shit ya know.

A/N -okay I know this is like, a world away from my usual f1 driver fics but I’ve been having writers block then I watched a hockey game and remembered the huge crush I used to have on Quinn. Apparently it’s not gone so. Wrote this. I don’t know. First nhl oneshot… soooo, kinda a small glimpse I guess. Might write more for Quinn maybe. Anyways. Let me know what u think xoxo

The scowl could not be wiped from Cherries face as she stared down her brother , who was laying casually against the couch snacking on candy like he wasn't the one that had pleaded for her to be here like a cry baby.

The French woman couldn't believe the nerve her brother had to drag her from beautiful , warm and luxurious monaco and have her travel all the way to... Vancouver . Only to greet her with a casual 'hey' and a head nod like he hasn't went nearly six months without seeing his sister.

"I can't believe this." Her accent was thicker than his was, seeing as her brother had been living in America for a couple of years now. Travelling around like a wayyard hippy , sending her selfies every weekend of some new destination.

She was happy for him. He had spent months of the year flying out to her races and staying back in Monaco with her too. Up until this year when her brother had declared himself in love and suddenly wanting to settle down. In Vancouver. She just couldn't believe it.

She was feeling more than a little annoyed and bitter about his sudden decisions. Certain that he wasn't thinking this through properly , having always thought that her brother would end up living somewhere a little closer to her.. at least within france. That had been the plan. But now some American girl had apparently bewitched her lovesick brother and now he didn't want to leave at all.

Instead he was making her fly all the way out here to a place she did not want to be in. At all.

Cherrie was Monaco. She was Milan. She was Paris. She was €3000 white jeans and dainty diamonds, she liked the high life. Just like her French mother who was also having a crisis at the thought of her son settling down in America of all places. Something that Cherrie and her mother liked to rant about at brunch in Monaco , a far cry from the life that Leon was living here.

She kind of wanted to cry. Kind of wanted to drag him back home with her too. She missed her brother and she didn't want him to be so far away.

So she couldn't help but be a little upset . And a little pissy with his decisions , even if he was happy. She wasn't. And she liked things her own way. No way else.

"Why would you want to stay here leon? This is like-this is like a -" she didn't even have words for it as she glanced around the boring mans apartment that looked like teenage boys lived in it. Messy and bland, no taste at all.

She wanted to be sick. "Nightmare! You're turning into a fratboy like on those shows! You're even-" she swallowed in disgust as she stared in horror at her brothers head. "-you're wearing a cap backwards!" She couldn't believe it.

What had happened to her linen pant wearing brother who wouldn't be seen dead without his fancy shirts and Rolex?

He was lounging on the couch in grey joggers, a jersey and backwards cap! Cherrie thought she was going to be sick. Maman was going to have a stroke!

Leon just rolled his eyes at his sisters dramatics, used to het snobby and judging behaviour by now. She never did like anything unless it was done her way. But he loved her none the less. Hence why he had wanted her to come visit him so badly, wanted to show her that it wasn't so bad here.

That it could be home. In more ways than one.

"Don't be so ridiculous. This is the style here. I look cool." He told her matter of factly , always happy to fit in. "Would you just relax?" He exclaimed.

She shot him a look "relax?" She scoffed , eyeing him judgmentally. "You're living like a fratboy in America! Poor maman is having a crisis! She thinks this is a cry for help!" She shot back at him , unimpressed as she glanced around his apartment "I'm starting to think she's right! You've traded Monaco for Vancouver! Who would do this?!" She just didn't get it.

Her brother merely sighed and told her "a man in love would. Sarah is the love of my life Cherrie. She makes this place feel like home." With a lovesick smile on his face, unashamed . Not bothered by the disgusted look he was receiving from his sister.

She was cringing , horrified . "Love? Love couldn't keep me here. This is insane! Nobody is worth this!"

Leon rolled his eyes again "what do you know? You've never been in love but one day you will be and you'll get it then." He tried convincing her. Unable to wait for the day that she understood.

He just hoped that it was soon. His sister was far too cold and cynical recently . Her life was racing, champion and Diamonds. No time for love apparently. He just wanted her to be happy , to have a taste of what it felt like to not need anything but the embrace of your partner to feel happiness. It was a special feeling.

Cherrie just wasn't having it. Too stubborn to take him seriously . "I would never live in America for a guy. I'll fall in love with a Frenchman if anything. Much easier." She muttered unimpressed with him as she clutched her purse to her, feeling her phone buzz in her pocket. No doubt her new friends for the night asking where she was. Having planned to get some drinks and have some fun.

Leon just smirked a little, looking at her confidently. "I bet you that you'll grow to love it here. There's just something about it.." he sighed happily "I promise you. By the end of the week you won't want to leave." He told her.

Cherrie couldn't have laughed any louder if she tried. "Ha! I don't think so! But whatever.. are you coming with me?" She had mentioned her clubbing plans to him earlier. Wanting to party so it felt still a little like home.

Unfortunately leon shook his head "I can't. I'm having beers with the guys . They’re coming over and we're gonna watch the game..." he trailed off once he noticed her disbelieving look. "What?"

She just couldn't believe it "you’re turning too American! Are you trying to hurt my and mamans heart leon? Because you're breaking them!" She dramatically let him know. Upset that so much was changing lately. She hated it.

Leon just snorted, used to her guilt tripping behaviour. It had no affect on him whatsoever. She was a drama queen. Always had been and always would be.

"Shut up." He groaned "and the guys are really nice alright? So I want you to be.." he looked at her seriously.

She just looked at her brother with a confused frown, not understanding him. Hating that she was sounding more French than he did. Hating that his accent was fading so quickly. Hating it all.

"To be what? I'm not talking to them. They're your friends not mine!" She was quick to let him know. Wanting no part in it.

Leon looked at her in disbelief "you have to talk to them for that exact reason Cher! Plus they've been asking about you. They're big fans!" He told her with a grin. Amused by the way his sister managed to capture everyone's attention even when she wasn't even there.

It didn't help that he bragged about her every chance he got. He was very proud of her. He made sure everyone knew what a legend she was. Always. Including his new friends who couldn't believe that his sister was THE Cherrie Valentine. F1 driver and two times world champion. Hopefully 3 soon.

She was a star all around the world. And ever since drive to survive had hit Netflix , everybody knew her name now. Even outside of the usual f1 fans. She was popular . That was an understatement. People either loved her or absolutely hated her. She was known at his ice queen who was more mean than she was nice. Beautiful but deadly. She had everyone hooked.

Cherrie simply didn't give a shit about what anyone thought of her. All she cared about was winning another championship , her family and convincing her brother to come home. That was it.

"Oh no. I don't like talking to new people! You can't make me!" She almost whined, hating making new friends. She didn't want any nor did she need any. She had her close circle And that was enough.

Leon let out a small laugh "you sound like Quinn's inner dialogue. He hates meeting new people too." He muttered in amusement. Having a feeling that the two would get along great if his sister wasn't so scary and stubborn.

Unfortunately he had a horrible feeling that she'd scare him off and make him wish that he had never met her. He crossed his fingers and prayed that she would be nice for once.

"Sounds like a smart guy." She simply replied running a hand through her hair, checking out her tight dress in the mirror. Making sure she looked good. "But I still don't want to-"

"All I'm asking is that you be nice! I'm not asking you to marry them. God! I'm just asking that you filter yourself a little!" He argued, exasperated with her already. And she had only been here not even a day.

She was offended "I will be myself. Thank you. And If they don't like it then that's their problem." She snapped back at him, annoyed. Stomping to the door in her high heels. "Goodbye leon! Maybe by the time I get back you will have found your brain again!"

Her brother simply laughed "and maybe you'll stop being such a bitch!" He shook his head to himself in amusement as he heard her muttering curses in French, cursing out America and him before she slammed the door behind her in a mood. "I don't think so." He muttered grinning.

It was nearly eleven by the time his friends finally started asking Leon about his sister again, Jack and Trevor grinning at him, excited at the thought of meeting her.

"Is she really as scary as everyone says she is?" Trevor wanted to know. Passing them all another round of beers as they paused their game of fifa for a moment to chat.

Leon chucked a little, looking at them in amusement. Jack looking equally as intrigued , Quinn was merely relaxing back into the couch quietly, not speaking. Just listening.

"She really isn't!" He wanted them to like her, wanted to paint her in the best light.

“She's actually really nice. She's just a bit-" of a bitch

"-blunt and lacking a filter sometimes. So I guess it intimidates people. But she's actually - deep down- really lovely and such a sweetheart-"

His exaggerated truth was abruptly cut off by the slamming of his front door hitting against the wall making them all nearly jump out of their skin. Jack gasped a little in fright while Trevor nearly dropped his beer, Quinn flinching a little in shock as they all glanced over to the hallway quickly.

"Just socialise a little more Cherrie! Go out and have some fun!" She mocked her mother's voice in Annoyance as she stormed inside in a fury, too angry to realise that he wasn't alone.

“And you know that got me ?! A fucking slap to the face! This bitch-"

"Cherrie-" he brother tried to warn her, already wincing in embarrassment as they all watched her throw her bag to the side in anger. Stomping into the open kitchen without even glancing at him, a bright pink hand mark on her cheek.

"God that's insulting bitches by calling her that!" She scoffed angrily. Furious even.

"she was crazy! Screaming at me about her boyfriend as though it was my fault that he's a cheater! He failed to mention her stupid ass when he was trying to shove his tongue in my-" she turned around ready to rant to her brother about her horrible night when she froze up at the sight of three other pairs of eyes watching her in both shock and amusement.

"Oh." She breathed out with a grimace "American boys."

She suddenly remembered about Leon telling her that he was having his new friends over, a little too late.

She glanced between them carefully , eyes lingering on the dark haired guy on the loveseat for a little longer than necessary before she looked away, inhaling deeply.

Fucking shit. She thought.

"Nice night?" Trevor joked with a smirk , wide eyes looking at her in awe. Jack not too far off, his mouth had even dropped open as they all stared at the world champion in front of them in a tiny black dress and killer heels with a slapped cheek, looking like she'd rather be anywhere else but there.

She just glanced at her brother with a wince "je suis désolé. I forgot." She muttered . Not knowing whether to just walk past them to her room or god forbid... speak to them.

Fucking hell.

Leon just chuckled "it's alright. This is Jack and Trevor.." he nodded to the two wide eyed guys next to him with a small smirk "and the quiet one over there is Quinn." He told her.

She just nodded her head, briefly glancing over at Quinn again. Seeing him already looking up at her , only to look away as soon as she met his eyes.

She frowned "bonjour." Was all she said, eyeing the hallway behind them. Wondering if she could just slip away without her bother scolding her for being rude.

"Oh my god. You're even hotter in person. You look amazing." Trevor breathed out, snapping out of his shock as he tried to send the Frenchwoman a wink. Jack chuckling beside him , shaking his head at him.

Quinn just looked at him, unimpressed. Fighting the sudden urge to roll his eyes as he glanced subtly back over to Cherrie , eyes lingering on her as he watched her shift on her feet. Clearly not impressed either.

He tried not to smile as he saw her looking blankly back at Trevor , not even hesitating in shutting him down.

"I take it you're one of the boys getting my brother to wear his caps backwards?" She sniffed , disinterested.

A Frenchman had once told her in a bar that she was as beautiful as a field of rare flowers in a dream.

Getting called hot didn't faze her at all.

He nodded proudly , not picking up on her distaste for it at all. Jack slowly turned his cap back the right way , fighting back a laugh as he did so.

Briefly looking over at his brother only to see Quinn’s eyes still on Cherrie , his lips quirked up as he lifted his hand up to his face to hide his smile. Jacks eyebrow rose in surprise , not expecting that reaction at all from his quite, timid older brother.

"Yeah. Looks good huh?" He grinned. Leon laughing at the look on his sisters face.

"Pierre does it too. I told him he looks like a stupid jackass." She simply said before turning around to get herself a glass of water , hoping to sober up quicker.

The slap to the face had been a real mood killer.

Trevor paused "wait..you don't like the look?" He said offended. Looking at Jack in disbelief once he saw his cap the right way forward again.

Cherrie just shrugged boredly as she sipped at her glass, not even glancing at them anymore. Wondering how the hell she was going to enjoy a full week here. Already missing Monaco. French boys and champagne.

"It reminds me of boysluts-" her brother laughed quietly "fuckboys." He quickly corrected her already knowing what she meant. She just rolled her eyes and muttered "same thing."

"Very American I suppose." She sighed , homesick. Kicking off her heels and losing six inches to her height, Quinn's eyebrow raising in amusement as he watched her fall back to barely 5,6. He wondered how she even walked in such things. Surely her ankles must be killing her?

He watched her wince and rub her claves together and pressed his hand further against his mouth , wondering why he was fighting back a smile so badly. Wondering why he was even thinking so much about the woman in front of him at all. She clearly didn't like them. Clearly wasn't happy being here..so why couldn't he tear his eyes away from the moody , insanely fucking beautiful Frenchwoman?

Jack laughed loudly "well you are in America. Sorry to burst your bubble." He teased , having already been clued in by Leon about how pissed off his sister was about being there instead of sweet Monaco.

“It's nice to meet you finally though. I thought Leon was lying when he told us that his sister was the current world champion." He said hoping to make friends with her, he had to try. Being Cherrie valentines friend was a one off chance. One in a million.

He was going to be her friend whether she liked it or not.

Leon grinned to himself, knowing this. Trevor and Jack weren't going to be scared away easily. Trevor was already trying to put a cap on his sisters head, unafraid of the glares she was sending his way.

Batting his hand away from her with a loud sigh "I know. I can't believe it either sometimes. I am the amazing , talented one of the family. Leon is just the.." she smirked at her brother "idiot. Stupid in love and stupid in America apparently. Quite a difference." She couldn't help the jab. Petty as ever.

Unfazed, her brother just snickered. "Okay miss ice queen. Just because you don't believe in love-"

Quinn repeated quietly in disbelief "you don't believe in love?" Without even realising it until it suddenly went quite.

He looked up from his feet to see them all looking back at him, Cherrie unbothered, the guys in shock that he had spoken up so suddenly.

He ignored the look Jack sent his way, clearing his throat quietly and hoping the flush in his neck wouldn't reach his face. He fidgeted with his beer bottle instead. Feeling his heart race in his chest the longer she looked at him.

She groaned a little "no. It's not that- I do. Just not for me. I'm not going to fall in love so stupidly." She told him , believing what she was saying.

She looked at Quinn , took in his black sweatpants and oversized sweatshirt , his hair a mess, long and uncut. Unshaven with a healing cut on his nose and frowned a little to herself , swallowing as she felt her throat suddenly go dry. Forcing herself to look away from him when he didn't say anything else, simply looking down at his bottle of beer and not acknowledging her anymore.

What was his problem?

Actually , what was her problem?

The vodka shots. She suddenly thought to herself. That was why she wanted him to look at her again. Obviously. It could only be that.

"Someday you will and I'll be there to make fun of you and tell you I told you so." Leon told her with a grin as he turned the game back on . Pulling Trevor back down to the couch so that he would stop annoying his sister by trying to put a cap on her head, unable to let her comment go like a child.

Cherrie just scoffed and turned away to head back into the kitchen.

"I don't think so." She denied, she would never do something so stupid.

Not even an hour later she had changed out of her dress and into a silk , white nighty and some fuzzy slippers and snook her way back to the kitchen for something to eat. Hearing loud laughter and boyish shouting from the couch as they watched some game on tv, despite it being past midnight already.

Bending down to look into the fridge , she frowned in dismay . Seeing nothing but old takeout containers and crap. The fridge was so full with different brands of things that she had never seen before , she had no clue what to eat . Didn't know if she dared.

She couldn't wait to tell their mother about his poor diet and new living. He was going to be in for a scolding of a lifetime for living like some frat boy, their mother had brought them up better than that.

"Your cheek is still a little pink." The sudden low voice nearly made her jump out of her skin.

Flinching in fright as she spun back around with a curse "putain! oh mon Dieu! Quinn!" She place her hand on her poor heart with a heavy exhale , glaring at him.

He looked a little bashful then , smiling a little apologetically at her.

His cheeks flushing as he muttered a quiet "does it hurt still?" His eyes glued to his feet again .

For a moment she could only look at him in pure confusion , heart still racing and wondering how he had managed to sneak off from the others without anyone noticing. She wondered if he was always this quiet or if he just hated her.

She was so used to guys being loud and arrogant , she was a woman in a mans sport , she had never dealt with a man being shy or bashful around her before .

She didn't know they could be like this, so the first thing she thought was that he simply didn't like her. Unused to it.

"Does what hurt?" Her accent was even thicker than usual. Both from tiredness and confusion. Tucking her long hair behind her shoulder , suddenly feeling out of place in the plain kitchen in her white silk nighty that barely hit mid thigh. White faux fur on the edges.

She leaned back against the counter with some resemblance of confidence , wondering what the hell was wrong with her. Why the hell did she care about what she looked like all of a sudden?

She didn't . She didn't. No. She was just tired, that's all.

Quinn's eyes slowly trailed up from his feet , pausing on her bare legs for a moment, lips quirking for a second as he saw the white silk and faux fur, before they quickly darted to meet her eyes again. Heart jumping in his chest.

"Your cheek. The slap.." he reminded her quietly , gently nudging her out of the way so he could get into the freezer.

She watched him pull out a small ice pack with a slight frown "it's fine. She slapped like a child. I've had worse." She muttered , feeling out of place.

Quinn hesitated for a moment before moving in front of her and holding up the ice pack to her cheek, gently resting it there . He smiled a little "children hit like boxers sometimes though. A slap is a slap."

"She was a bitch. She should have slapped her boyfriend not me." She muttered , eyes on his blue jersey he was wearing. Shivering as she felt the ice cold sink into her skin.

"What did you say to make her slap you?" He seemed to know that she wasn't telling the whole story before.

She immediately looked up and scowled "I didn't say anything but the truth!" She quickly snapped , annoyed just at the reminder of her night.

Quinn tried not to smile. He really did. Unable to tell why he felt as amused as he did then by how defensive she was getting.

"Some people don't like hearing the truth so bluntly."

"That's their problem. Not mine." She quickly countered back. "You can't have both. You can't hate someone for telling the truth and hate liars too. That's stupid." She grumbled , grimacing as she tried to turn her frozen cheek away from the ice pack , not liking the numb feeling sinking in her face.

Quinn kept it pressed to her cheek though , gently holding her jaw with his other hand to keep her still without even thinking about it. Used to hockey injuries and making sure his stubborn teammates and friends looked after their injuries properly too.

It wouldn't be until later, when he was alone in his bed , that he would realise how easily he had let himself touch her. Cradled her jaw gently as though it was something he did everyday. Him. Somebody who avoided Physical contact and affection all the time. Maybe he should have known, realised that it began then.

"People are stupid." He agreed easily in a whisper . Lifting the ice for a moment to glance at her cheek to make sure that the slight swelling was going down. It was.

Her eyes were glued to the mole above his cheek , smiling a little to herself . "They are." She agreed too before remembering what her brother had told her about his new friends . Vaguely .

“You play sports." She said struggling to remember which .

Outside of racing she didn't know much about other sports . She enjoyed all motorsports and football , that was about as far as her enjoyment and knowledge went.

Quinn chuckled a little "yeah. Ice Hockey. My brothers do too. and Trevor." He added secondly in case she didn't already know.

Smirking a little as he saw her nose twitch at Trevor’s name, knowing that he had already succeeded in annoying her made him want to laugh. The playboy wasn't getting her attention at all.

It was all on Quinn instead. She tilted her head a little , unaware of how close they even were until she felt their knees bump together . She pulled her leg away and fiddled with the strap of her nightie again.

"The sticks and the -" she had no clue at all.

Quinn smiled for real then "the pucks. Yeah. Never watched it before I'm guessing." He was amused , there was no hiding it.

She just shrugged a little "no. Boring. I like heart racing sports. Bit of danger. Not boys on ice." She said , hoping to wind him up a little.

It worked. He frowned down at her "hockey is Dangerous. One wrong move and your career could be over. And we're not boys.." he muttered annoyed at the way she kept calling them so.

She smirked up at him slyly "no?" At his small head shake she laughed slyly "okay. Men on ice then. Not your first bloody nose , non?" She gently tapped the end of his nose. Carefully of the deep cut there.

His breath hitched , eyes never leaving hers as he swallowed quietly .

“No. The pucks love me. So do the sticks." He mumbled, averting his eyes away from hers when it became too much for him.

He pulled away completely, putting the ice pack back into the freezer instead. Missing the way Cherrie frowned as she straightened out her nightie and moved away from the counter she had been leaning against, taking a much needed breath again.

"Hmm. Okay." She just muttered . Turning away from him and busying herself with looking in the kitchen cupboards. Still hungry. She blamed her weird emotions on the tiredness, hunger and vodka. All three were to blame.

There was a beat of silence as Quinn hovered by the breakfast table unsurely, glancing out into the living room to see the guys still messing about on the couch, too busy bickering to pay any attention to where he had gotten to.

He swallowed , glancing at the pizza boxes that were on the table in front of them.

“You want some pizza? I think they're might be a slice left.. maybe." He didn't know why he kept talking. Why he hasn't left her alone yet. This wasn't like him at all. What the hell was he doing?

Cherrie glanced over at him with a grimace, shaking her head . "No. Strict diet with racing. I'm not wasting my cheat day on ... that." If she was going to eat pizza she would be eating real, Italian pizza. Not this crap they were eating.

“Though I doubt my brother has anything I want in. I'll just get something in the morning.." she muttered, yawning as she rounded the table , ready to call it a night.

Quinn slowly nodded his head, fiddling with his jersey sleeves as he watched her run a hand through her hair , shaking her hair out over her tanned shoulders . He glanced away quickly.

"Alright.."

She hesitated by the doorway before glancing over her shoulder at him briefly . "bonne nuit Quinn." Was all she muttered before disappearing from the kitchen.

Making sure to ruffle her brothers hair as she walked past , then she grabbed the cap from Trevors head and flung it across the room, giving Jack a small smile before heading straight to her room, closing the door behind her with a heavy exhale.

Ten minutes later there was a small knock on her bedroom door and a plate of cut up fruit left for her on the floor beside her door .

She went to sleep with a small smile on her lips that night. The first night of many.

Throughout the next week the two of them found odd ways to be around each other , making up excuses and ignoring any strange looks they received from others as they did.

The first time Quinn did it, he felt like he was still dreaming. Sleepwalking maybe , only he knew exactly what he was doing just not why he was doing it.

It was the next morning after meeting her and all he could think about as he ate his unhealthy breakfast , was about how she complained about the lack of her favourite food in her brothers apartment next door. So he ate his own food and ended up texting Leon

What does your sister like for breakfast? Sending the text before he could even think not to. Already putting on his shoes and pocketing his wallet , having a feeling that the luxurious Frenchwoman wouldn't be eating cornflakes .

Her brothers text was both wary and amused. Has she blackmailed you into doing shit for her already?

No. Was already out. He was not. Just thought I'd ask seeing as you said she hates it here. Might make her hate it a little less if she had some good food to eat. He sent, flushed from lying to Leon and himself .

Leon's text came quickly , unconcerned with his sudden interest in his sister. Just taking it for him being a nice guy.

Alright. She usually likes seeded bagels with some eggs or something on top. Or protein pancakes and fruit. I don't even know man.

Quinn ended up getting them both from some fancy new age cafe a little further out. Ridiculously overpriced and a little shocked on how much protein pancakes could cost, he drove back home in silence and found himself at their apartment . Getting a friendly pat on the shoulder from Leon on his way out as he rushed off to meet his girlfriend , his sister a slumped mess at the table.

He walked in hesitantly , took one glance at her barely open eyes and cleared his throat .

“I got food." He announced his arrival. Once again scaring the absolute shit out of her.

"Fuck me!" She gasped looking up at him in surprise "Quinn! ne fais pas ça ! mon cœur!" (Don't do that! My heart!) "oh mon Dieu!" She exhaled loudly.

He just smiled a little shyly "sorry." He mumbled while placing the cartoon of food in front of her on the table . "Was at breakfast and ordered too much." He told her in a mutter. Taking a seat opposite her on the table , pulling out his phone to appear busy. Like he had something other do than stare at the freckles over her nose and the tiny star shaped mole Beneath her left eye.

Cherrie looked down at the food in amazement , mouth watering. Heart warming as she looked at her favourite food with a small smile tugging at her lips,

so that's who her brother was texting while glancing at her with a knowing smirk . She realised then.

"Ah." She got some cutlery and digged right in , pancake already on her mouth when she remembered her manners. "Right. Thank you Quinn. I was really hungry and Leon was trying to poison me with some weird children's cereal." She told him, looking offended.

"Froot loops?" He guessed in amusement , briefly glancing up at her disgusted face as she nodded her head as though her brother had tried to feed her literal shit in a bowl.

He laughed lightly "it's alright ya know. Should try it." He said to her.

She looked at him with a frown "don't make me go off you ice man." She muttered , shovelling her face with her fancy food again.

Humming in content , missing the pleased look on his own face as he watched her enjoy the food he went half an hour away to get for her . Just because he wanted to.

"I want to see see a movie today." She told him after she had finished eating. Washing up after herself before walking over to the couch , sitting down to put her shoes on.

Quinn leaned back against his chair, looking through the archway over to her. Watching her put her foot on the coffee table to lace up the other shoe, his eyes lingering on the large snake tattoo he could see snaking up her upper thigh and disappearing underneath her shorts , no doubt over her hip.

He breathed in deeply before speaking up hesitantly

"I could see if the guys want to go tonight-"

Cherrie shook her head firmly, still not looking at him as she focussed on making herself presentable.

Standing from the couch and wandering over to the mirror in the corner of the room , she ran her fingers through her hair, smirking a little to herself as she caught his eyes on her through the reflection

"No. I don't want to go as a group. Too much." She muttered , beating around the bush a little.

Not used to being the one to ask guys out with her, they are usually the ones begging for her time. She didn't really know what to do or say. And that was not like her at all.

Quinn just looked at her for a few quite minutes , watching her get ready and feeling his heart racing in his chest as he wondered if he was reading her right.

Surely she wasn't hinting at him-?

She glanced in the mirror again and met his eyes , lifting up a perfect brow at him without saying a single thing.

Oh. He breathed out. She was.

"I-er...I could take you, if you want. I mean..I know a good place for movies. You want to go now?" He rushed out , confused on what was appropriate to say. Not wanting say the wrong thing and potentially piss her off. She was intimidating. The media weren't wrong about that.

With that attitude and her being so fucking beautiful, he could barely even speak. Her French accent only sinking him deeper into the point of no return.

She just casually nodded her head , grabbing her Chanel purse from behind the couch and hanging it on her shoulder . Satisfied with how she looked, she had some makeup in her bag. She would do it in the car on the way there.

"Yes. You're not getting pucks to the face today , non?" She walked over to the door, ready to go. Just waiting for him now.

He looked over at her and quickly stood up from his chair, nodding his head before shaking it, letting out a nervous laugh.

“No. No. Not today. I can take you ." He took out his car keys from his pocket and walked over to her, holding the front door open for her as she slipped out.

Walking side by side , she glanced up at him for a moment . Holding back a small smile as she saw the way he seemed to be concentrating on his breathing, no longer looking at her.

"We can go together . Not take me. You're not my driver." She corrected him once they were outside , despite him holding open the door for her as she slid into the passenger seat. Giving him her purse to hold in his lap as she pulled out her lipstick and mascara and got to work.

He started the car but didn't pull away just yet, merely leaning back with a small smile , flicking on the radio as he watched her pouty lips part as she put on her makeup. Humming happily as a taylor swift song came on.

"There's also a ice cream place next to it.." he mumbled ten minutes later as the pulled up. Too shy to look at her. To say what he truly wanted to ask.

But she understood. Of course she did.

She just casually hummed and nudged his shoulder with her own like they were the best of friends.

"we'll get ice-cream after then. Just don't tell my trainer." Was all she said. Before letting him open the car door for her as they got out to watch their movie. And get ice cream too.

The day after that Cherrie didn't bother knocking at his door, merely letting herself in as if she owned the place. Scaring the hell out of poor Jack who was watching tv, his head snapping up as he looked at her with wide eyes.

"Wrong apartment." He blurted out , thinking she had confused her brothers place for Quinn's. He turned his backwards cap around to face the front quickly too.

She held back a grin . "No it isn't." She glanced at the hockey game on tv and rose a brow "missing it?"

"A little. You want a jersey?" He grinned back at her, determined that they were still going to be friends. He would get the scary , hot Frenchwoman to like him. He would.

"Non. I want a cap." She said putting her bag down on the empty chair, pocketing her phone instead.

He took his teams cap off his head immediately and passed it to her with a large smirk .

“Backwards?" He joked about her hatred of it.

She smirked a little "you are." She muttered slipping it on her head the right way.

“I look better with it on than you, yes?" She bragged. Letting him pull up his phone to take a picture of her to show all his friends that he wasn't lying and that THE Cherrie Valentine was his friend. (Pending).

"No way! No one can look better than me!"

She scoffed while backing away "lying is bad. Your tongue will go black and fall off." She told him seriously. Heading down the hall to where the bedrooms were , the exact same layout as her brothers place.

"Where are you going?" He called over the couch to her in confusion . Wondering what he had missed and why the hell she was heading towards his brothers bedroom like it was a normal thing for her to do.

She didn't even spare him another glance "none of your business kid!" She called back before knocking on his door and barging in without any other warning.

Quinn darting up out of his bed with wide eyes , mouth dropping open in shock as he looked at the woman now snooping around his room , wondering if he was still dreaming. About her. In his room. Again.

"You're -" he then glanced at her head and frowned deeply .

"get that off." He ended up telling her, unimpressed by the red cap she was wearing.

Cherrie just giggled as she looked at him teasingly "I don't know. I kind of like it. I think red is my colour. He said something about a jersey too?" She crawled onto his bed. Ignoring the way he flushed and leaped out of it like she was some siren about to eat him whole.

Maybe he wasn't too far off.

He yanked one of his jerseys from the back of his desk chair and threw it at her, smiling a little when she huffed and grabbed it off her head where it had fell onto . Glaring up at him.

"No it isn't, you look horrible in red." He muttered, lying through his teeth . She would look good in any colour. The whole damn rainbow.

She just snorted knowing for a fact that he was lying. "I'm a ferrari driver. I know you're lying." She reminded him smugly. Setting the jersey aside, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of wearing it yet.

He ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling self conscious in just some basketball shorts and some old oversized shirt. He thought of her French teammate who looked like some model and frowned, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What do you want?" He mumbled, barely audible as he grabbed a hoodie from his closet. Quickly pulling it on. Grabbing some black jeans before disappearing into the bathroom to change into them too.

Cherrie sighed a little as she looked around the mostly blue room filled with everything hockey , raising her brow in amazement at his achievements. She looked at some of the photos with him in his hockey gear , smiling next to his teammates and found herself smiling a little too.

Maybe she should try and see a game of his some time, it would be rude not to . She supposed. She would have to google the rules of the game later when she was alone, maybe watch a few on YouTube to familiarise herself with it first. Yeah. She would do that. Maybe text Lance too. He loved hockey.

"Nothing really. I was bored."

"So you decided to come annoy me?" He said as he walked back into the room . Face washed and teeth quickly brushed.

He paused by his door at the sight of her sitting so casually on his bed, looking like she belonged there . He already knew that her vanilla and cocoa perfume would linger on his pillows, he hoped it did.

She grinned a little "yeah. For a minute. I'm gonna go anyways.. maybe get my brother to do something." She muttered , bored.

Quinn panicked at the thought of her leaving and blurted out "you can stay here. Jacks making me go bowling with him , Trevor and Luke. You can ya know..." he rocked on the back of his heels unsurely, feeling the heat travel up his neck and into his cheeks darkly.

She quirked a brow up at him in amusement "I can, what?"

He huffed a little, not looking at her. Busying himself with putting his shoes on. Eyes flickering to his Vancouver jersey beside her that she had yet to put on.

"You can come. Luke might freak out a little . He's a fan." He warned her quietly . As though he wasn't a fan of her too. He just was much more quieter about it. Less embarrassing. Hopefully.

She sighed dramatically "I guess." She got up from the bed , adjusting jacks cap on her head.

Quinn reached over and yanked it straight back off , making her laugh. "Hey!"

"No." Was all he muttered moodily , throwing it aside.

“Are you gonna out my jersey on?” He mumbled to her , eyes hopefully glancing between the blue shirt and the beautiful woman in front of him.

She smirked a little to herself, amused with the way he couldn't even look at her. Fiddling with his hoodie sleeves as he waited by his bedroom door. As though he was too scared to come any closer to her.

"Do you want me to wear it right now?" She asked him. Wanting to hear him say it. She wasn't easy about it. That wasn't the kind of person she was.

He hesitated for a moment. Eyes darting up to look at her before looking away again just as quickly.

"Wouldn't have given it to you if I didn't want you to wear it." He muttered with a bit of embarrassed attitude. Pulling open the door and quickly heading out into the hallway before she could see his cheeks blush any further.

He heard her laugh lightly behind him, quickly pulling on the blue jersey over her tank top with a small smirk on her face.

Shaking her head to herself in amusement at how a man as good looking and rough looking as Quinn could act so shy and bashful. It was a nice change to the usual arrogant and cocky guys she dealt with daily.

Speaking of cocky .. Trevors loud voice reached her ears as she trailed out of Quinn's bedroom after him . Pulling her hair from his underneath his Jersey, not fazed at all by their sudden company.

"Woah! What is this?!" Trevor gasped in surprise looking at them with wide eyes.

Luke freezing beside him while Jack just glanced over at Quinn, only to see him refusing to look at any of them. Too busy getting his jacket, but he wasn't quick enough for him not to see his bright pink face .

His brother was blushing. Jack couldn't believe it.

"Wearing blue? Coming out of his bedroom?! What the fuck have I missed?!" He echoed in disbelief , behind shocked .

Quinn just rolled his eyes at him "nothing. Shut up."

"Oh yeah. A whole love affair. It was so romantic." Cherrie couldn't help but joke , forgetting that these weren't her usual sarcastic friends back in Monaco for a moment . Maybe she didn't hate them as much as she thought she would.

“He made love to me in his jersey. He's made me fall in love with him and now I'm never leaving here! Just like my brother!"

Trevor gaped at her "really?" Both Quinn and her rolled their eyes simultaneously. Jack silently looking at their in tune movements in disbelief .

"No. Not really!" She scoffed shaking her head at him . "Too many pucks to the head for you! I'm not that stupid!" She was offended . Really she was.

Trevor was now offended too "hey! That's mean! What else was I supposed to think? Will you wear my cap too then?"

It was Quinn's voice that spoke up quickly next "absolutely not." He muttered not even looking at him. Passing Cherrie his spare coat seeing as she was still dressed like she was in Monaco , her shorts far too small for how cold it still was.

He hid his pleased smile by turning his head as he watched her slide it on without any complaint for once. She looked great in his clothes.

"Where's my cap I gave her?" Jack wondered.

"In the trash. Don't even try it." Quinn shot back at him without missing a beat.

Cherrie looked at the younger Hughes Brother that was still gaping at her and smiled. "Bonjour Luke. You exited for bowling?" She asked him nicely.

Ignoring trevor's "how come she wasn't this nice to me?" Whining.

"Yeah. I thought Leon was lying when he said you were his sister." He blurted out in shock. Giving her a smile anyways .

She just snickered "yeah. I'm way better than him so no one ever believes we're related . It's hard being the star of the family. So many awards and such little space." She sighed like she was troubled by it. Following behind Quinn to the door.

The guys laughed, luke just looking at her in amazement . "Can you be on my team In bowling?" He asked her hopefully .

Cherrie laughed "sure. Beats being in a team with Trevor." She said.

Trevor looked at her in disbelief "so mean!" He repeated. Pouting dramatically.

"Quinn?" She muttered to him as they all headed down to their cars. Automatically following him to his, sliding onto the passenger seat like she did yesterday, kicking luke to the back seat.

"Yeah?"

"Wanna be on my team too?"

He just hummed. Nodding his head a little, still not looking at her. Just smiling to himself.

Luke looking between them in disbelief. Feeling like he was dreaming. Quinn felt like he was too.

They spent the next week making excuses to spend time with each other. Pretending like they had no clue to why they even were.

Midnight movies, sunset ice cream. Card games under the streetlights , silently made dinner , no questions , no answers. Cherrie ended up spending everyday of her stay with Quinn in one way or another . Whether it was muttering stories in the dark or bickering over something stupid, winding him up until he had no room but to retaliate. They did.

It was the final night before she was due to leave and the guys were hanging out at the bar together, Quinn quieter than usual as he silently sipped on his beer and listened to Trevor once again grill Leon about his sister.

Ignoring jacks amused , quizzing glance as he caught his annoyed rolling of his eyes. Not as subtle as he thought.

"Is she single then? Or had she got some guy back in Monaco?" He asked him curiously . Ever the gossip.

Quinn's frown deepened, eyes down to his beer bottle as he just listened in. Wondering that too. Surely she had a line of godlike guys waiting for her back home. No doubt.

He didn't care. Not at all.

Leon chuckled in amusement "she is and no she doesn't. She doesn't do the whole love thing remember?" He reminded them of her passionate anti falling in love speech.

Trevor just smirked slyly "didn't say anything about love. I can do casual too. Or whatever she wants." He wiggled his eyebrows jokingly.

Quinn's scoff went unheard in the bottle of his beer as he gulped it down, subtly rolling his eyes to himself again.

Her brother just snorted. "Yeah, no. She doesn't go for guys like you. You have no chance." He laughed.

Trevor was offended "WHATS that supposed to mean? Is is the hat thing again?" He wondered.

Leon rolled his eyes this time , amused. "No. She just usually likes the more casual and less arrogant guys. Ya know..not so full of themselves and quieter.." he trailed off, brows furrowing in realisation as he glanced over at a quiet Quinn who was now finally glancing up from the table.

They met eyes for a moment , Leon tried not to grin .

Oh. He thought in amusement . This is too good.

Quinn quickly looked away again, Leon tried not to laugh in glee.

"-and anyways. I invited her so I need you not to make a idiot out of yourself because I can only take so much second hand embarrassment before I die." He let them know. Mainly glancing at Trevor. They all did.

He gasped jokingingly "me?! She loves me! She high fived me the other day!" He exclaimed.

Jack snorted "yeah. In your face ." He laughed. More than Amused.

Quinn sat up a little straighter in his seat when she finally arrived. Dress in a little back dress again, satin this time.

He inhaled deeply and met her eyes, she narrowed her eyes back at him.

"Why was there a snake plushie on my bed?" She whispered to him as she slid into the booth beside him, ignoring the others loud greetings for a moment. She accepted Jack sliding a beer over to her, not drinking it though. Beer was not her thing at all.

"Hellooooo gorgeous! You're looking better than ever!" Trevor would not let himself be ignored.

She just looked at him, unimpressed. "And you're more annoying than ever. Don't you ever get tired?" She threw back at him. The others laughing at their banter.

He just winked at her "of being the hottest guy alive? No, never!" He laughed. Lifting his hand up for a high five.

She just slapped it away, rolling her eyes at him in amusement. She reached over and spun jacks cap to be the right way, making him chuckle as he shook his head at her now usual greeting for him.

"You gonna do that to Quinn?" He questioned her with a grin , nodding towards his distracted brother who had gotten up to go to the bar.

Confused she looked over at him and paused for a long moment , lips parting as she really looked at him finally. He looked good. More than good. With black jeans and a black sweatshirt on, a white tshirt collar poking out from underneath. Only this time he had a cap on too.. backwards.

And look. She hated it when other guys wore their caps backwards. Cringed at how it reminded her of stupid fuckboys who thought they were so goddamn cool passing around stds and shattering hearts along the way.

But Quinn... she inhaled sharply in shock, leaning back against the booth seat in absolute disbelief. He looked hot as fuck. She couldn't believe it.

"oh non. mon cœur.." she breathed out quietly to herself.

Unable to take her eyes off him as he walked back over, carefully balancing a cocktail glass in his hand. "ça ne peut pas m'arriver." (This can't be happening to me.) she almost whimpered.

Her brother, understanding every word she muttered , simple smirked smugly at her. "What's the matter sis? Think he looks stupid with the backwards cap too?" He taunted her.

She shot him a sharp glare, Quinn catching the end of his words as he arrived back at the table. Eyes widening as he realised that he had in fact put his cap on backwards because of the heat, to keep his hair out of his face.

Knowing how much Cherrie hated that look on guys, he lifted his hand to take it off.

Cherrie immediately slapped his hand away from his head and shook her head at him sharply . "No! Don't touch it!" She almost yelled at him. Heart pounding in her chest, feeling flushed and sweaty all of a sudden.

Jack and her brother were giggling , poor Quinn just looking both alarmed and confused at her sudden behaviour . He cautiously sat back down beside her and handed her the cocktail he had gotten her.

"What? I know you don't like it.." he mumbled, lowering his eyes back to the table bashfully . Sipping at his beer bottle again.

Glancing sideways at her when she let out a strange , strangled noise.

Almost glaring at him like she was pissed, he shifted in his seat nervously , wondering what he had done now. Her fingers were clenched around the stem of the glass, quickly sipping at her drink .

Quinn looked over to his brother for help. Wondering what the hell she was acting so weirdly for.

Jack just smirked and muttered "think she likes your new look dude.” Barely audible. Having the time of his life watching them.

"I never said I don't like it."

"Yes you did. Like every time someone wears it like that, you literally just turned jacks around..." he reminded her in confusion. Frowning down at her.

She frowned back at him just as deeply "yeah. On them. I don't like it on other guys. God Quinn. Shut up." She snapped at him. Flustered.

He was none the wiser . Taken aback by her sudden attitude, he scoffed lowly .

“What have I done? Why are you being so pissy?" He wanted to know. Countless beers helping with his confidence in questioning her .

She turned to face him fully, still sipping on her cocktail as she scowled at him. Cheeks pink as she repeatedly glanced between his eyes and his backwards cap. Wondering if she was having a midlife crisis at twenty one.

"I'm not being pissy. You're being pissy!"

He looked at her in disbelief "what the hell is your problem? Is this about my cap? I can take it off if it's bothering you that much-"he didn't get it.

She almost screeched "if you take that cap off I will smack you! I mean it!" She glared at him , too turned on to think straight.

Stupid American guys and their stupid backwards caps. She wanted to melt into a puddle on the floor.

Fucking hell.

Quinn blinked at her in shock. Speechless.

He fidgeted nervously with his beer bottle, eyes never leaving her dark ones before suddenly it clicked.

He exhaled shakily and flushed a dark red, awkwardly scratching at his flushed neck as he muttered unsurely to her "you like it?"

Cherrie just sighed in defeat . "Yes Quinn. I like it." That was an understatement. She wanted to jump him right there and then.

“Only on you though. Everyone else looks stupid." She quickly added. Sticking to her original judgment. Only Quinn pulled it off for her,

He smiled shyly against his bottle of beer, unable to meet her gaze. Flattered.

Instead he kept his eyes on the table as he muttered "I got you the snake plushie to match your tattoo. Why did you get it?" His question was quiet. Curious. Having been thinking about it since he first caught glimpse of the detailed snake tattooed up her thigh and around her hip? He guessed. He only saw so much.

Her voice was equally as quite , private between them, as she answered him "they kept calling me a snake for switching teams from redbull to Ferrari. But I won. Sooo..I'm proud to be such a snake I guess. It all worked out for me." She smugly smiled.

He smiled too, slowly nodding his head .

Liking that she owned what was once an insult against her. Liked that she was so stubborn and stuck to what she believed in. Just liked her really.

It was quiet between them for a moment, both just sipping on their drinks for a moment before Quinn worked up the corkage to mumble "I er...I like snakes. The French kind."

Her face softened as she glanced at him beside her, still unable to meet her eyes fully. She smiled too.

Soon they found themselves bickering again, in their own world together as they blocked out the rest of the table around them. Cherrie looking at him in disbelief as he accused her of purposely pushing max off the track in her last race.

She totally did but that was besides the point! She scoffed at him, a little tipsy just like he was, their arms, their thighs and sides pressed together as close as could be.

She was almost in his lap at this point , still bickering though. Too prideful to be soft and sweet .

"I did not! He spun me off the track in the race before that. Or did you forget that?!" She exclaimed , sipping from his beer now. Stealing it right from his hand.

He sipped from her cocktail in return , both of them hiding their smirked behind their drinks. Enjoying their bickering far too much to be normal.

"No I didn't. Which is exactly why you did it on purpose. You're revengeful . You like to get even." He knew her far too well already. It was unsettling.

She just looked at him before frowning "I am not." She denied, then she placed the palm of her hand on his cheek and pushed his face away from her with a huff.

"ferme tes jolies lèvres !" (Shut your pretty lips up!) she whined.

He snorted , actually giggling at her . Unaware of the shocked and disbelieving glances he was receiving from his friends and brother , too immersed in Cherrie to notice anything but her .

"Talk French to me all you want, I'm right. You know I am." He smirked at her, thoroughly enjoying himself. He loved winding her up just as much as she did him.

She had never felt so light and free before. So...happy. She swallowed briefly , face softening as she looked away from him for a moment to gather herself again. To remind herself of who she was.

She wasn't her bother . Oh god. She hoped not. She would never hear the end of it otherwise.

Her poor mother would have a stroke if they both had stayed and got themselves some American lovers. She couldn't do that.

No way. That wasn't her. Not at all. She had promised herself. She didn't fall in love. She didn't make it easy. She didn't ...

Oh my god. She didn't. Did she?

She finally managed a laugh , snapping out of her chaotic thoughts. She looked at him and said "it's different up close. It's not the same unless you're there." She told him, plans Already forming in her mind .

How would it work? How could it work? Could it? Could she? She could. He could... she drained the rest of his beer and smiled a little, titling her head as she felt him press closer to her.

His hand coming up to brush her hair over her shoulder gently , without even saying a thing. She just relaxed against him. Like it was normal. Something she always did. Would always do.

"You need to come to a race with me , then you'll see what I mean." She muttered. Looking at him seriously. Hoping he'd get the hint.

He did, his eyes softened , lips too. He nudged her shoulder with his gently as he mumbled "yeah? You should come to some games of mine too. It's only fair." He crossed his fingers, opened his heart for once. Wished he'd learned French to tell her how he really felt without any of his friends or their brothers knowing,

But he didn't need to. One look into his soft, hopeful eyes and she got it. Of course she did.

"Deal."

By the time they made it back to his apartment, his brother and friends had went to her brothers apartment to play video games. Too drunk to see them disappear into his own away from them. Wanting some moments on their own.

She found herself sat up on his kitchen counter top as he hovered near her knees, too scared to make the final move.

Cherrie didn't have those fears , confidence had never been an issue. She wasn't shy, just a little unsure to what she was supposed to do next,

She had never felt like this before. Guys didn't make her head spin like this. Didn't make her want to change her mind and stay. That wasn't her.

But maybe it was now. Maybe it could be.

"I'm going back to Monaco tomorrow." She reminded him of the inevitable . Somehow now wishing that she didn't have to.

Strange how a week ago she wished for nothing more than to leave , now she looked across from her and wanted nothing more than to stay. Or take him with her.

He slowly nudged her knees apart , eyes down to her thighs as he slid himself between them. Hands cautiously landing on her soft skin as he sighed quietly , heart pounding in his chest fearfully .

He swallowed "but you're coming back right?" Hope filled him so sweetly that she wanted a taste.

She trapped him between her thighs, titling her head at him as she gently wrapped her arms around his neck to pull his bashful self closer.

Her whole body melting against him as he suddenly leaned down and hugged her, like he had been wanting to for a while now, smiling to herself softly as she felt his face bury in the crook of her neck. A shy, soft, barely there kiss being placed there below her ear . Just for her. For them.

She inhaled deeply "I only came to see my brother.." that had been the plan.

But since when did plans ever work out fully in the end? That would be boring wouldn't it?

He pulled away enough to meet her eyes, gathering what courage he had left to mumble bashfully "you er-you promised me - you owe me a game remember? So you have to come back. To see me play."

She felt her heart brighten, she only saw daylight as she laughed softly . Cupped his blushing cheeks in her hands and leaned her face down towards his, kissing him gently . Just like she had wanted to the whole damn week.

His breath hitched in his chest as he laid his hands on her hips and sighed against her mouth, melting into her as he nudged his nose against hers gently, deepening the kiss as he felt her hand slide into his hand, pulling at the strands at the nape of his neck.

He moaned into the kiss , heart in his mouth as their tongues brushed together , his lashes fluttering against her cheek as he cupped the back of her head, giddy with feeling . Overwhelmed.

Smiling into the kiss, unable to stop himself. So fucked. So unbelievably soft for her. Yet so hard too. She had him in every way.

He should have known that it would come to this really. With eyes like hers .. and a smile so smug and sweet.

He got the best of both worlds. He wanted to have his cake and eat hers too.

"You want to come back to Monaco with me tomorrow?" She whispered to him , pulling away to breath.

Running her fingers through his hair gently , the other hand gently wiping her red lipstick stains from his mouth. Only managing to make it worse, her smile deepened. Unable to look away from the mess they made.

He was so much better than those French boys. She realised to herself in pure amazement. He was everything that she didn't know she needed until then.

Huh. Who knew. Her American boy.

He was giddy with excitement, with hope and disbelief. That a woman like Cherrie could want him. That this could be real. That he had a chance at something you could only dream of.

"For your home race?" He whispered , fingertip tracing her Cupid's bow. Feeling their kiss on his fingertips. Wanting kiss her until he could No longer breath.

Forever if she would let him.

Other hand cupping her cheek, his thumb stroking her cheekbone gently. Feeling the heat there. Glad to know that he wasn't the only one. That she could be just as nervous and giddy as he was feeling too.

"Yeah. To my home too. Maybe you could stay a week or two.. with me." She whispered back to him, smile never leaving their faces.

She felt it now. Knew that this was it. This was what people talked about In their stories . What her brother was so adamant about her feeling.

She had found it. Found him.

He let out a nervous laugh , breathy and amazed that this was happening. "Yeah. My next game is in two weeks. We could- you could come back with me. We could.." he trembled with the overwhelming feeling of falling in love.

"-we could take turns. I go with you and you go with me..." he inhaled shakily "if you want to..."

She just smiled , shaking her head to herself in disbelief . "I want to.." then she kissed him again. And again and again.

Because apparently she was as stupid as her brother was. She had fallen in love and now she didn't only want to call Monaco her home.

She wanted to call Quinn home too.

She was never going to hear the end of this. She had fallen in love with her American boy.

#Quinn Hughes imagine #Quinn Hughes oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #hockey imagine #ice hockey imagine #nhl fic

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dizzyjelly · 10 months

Text

Better Than Him(18+)

Word count: 3.3k

Summary: Your boyfriend Derek says something offensive about your bsf Abby, you get into a fight with him then Abby comforts you. Then she spends the night and you wake up after a spicy dream and you two get up to some fun.

Cw: rude bf, fighting, cheating, smut, thigh riding, pussy eating, slight overstimulation

It was a relaxing afternoon in your dorm as usual. You'd just been sat on your loveseat, your bestfriend Abby next to you. The both of you had been sitting in a comfortable silence for a while, when your phone buzzed. Abby glanced over for a second, trying to see who it'd been. But it wad out of her view. She wasn't too worried though. You rolled your eyes with a light scoff.

"It's Derek, asking me to come over." You told her.

"Just tell him you're busy." She shrugged, continuing to scroll through tiktok on her phone.

"Yeah, yeah, already on it." You responded.

Derek: Come over? I'm bored lol

You: Sorry, can't! Abbys hanging at my place rn

Derek: fr? Wtf

You: Wdym?

Derek: nothing. I just don't like her is all.

You: wth. Why.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, your brows furrowing mostly with confusion and a bit of frustration. Sure, Derek never loved Abby, but he hadn't ever expressed negative feelings towards her before. Abby took notice to your change in demeanor, but decided not to say anything. Not yet at least.

It bothered you, what he'd said. Because she was your best friend after all. You guys had known each other since middle school, and he know how inexplicably close you were.

"Derek's being weird." You announced with a sigh as he typed.

"How?" Abby asked, setting her phone down as she leaned against the back of the couch and looked over at you.

"He said he didn't like you." You explained and looked back at her.

Immediately Abby felt confused, and a little annoyed. Because what the hell? She wasn't worried you'd choose him over her one bit, but it definitely bothered her hearing this. She tried to conceal the evident change in her mood, but you noticed anyways.

"Oh." Was all she said.

"I don't know what his fucking problem is." You responded, the frustration very evident in your voice.

Abby chewed at her thumbnail quietly as you were busy reading his response.

Derek: I mean she's honestly kind of a bitch and she's clearly obsessed with u lol. Idek why you're friends with her tbh.

You: you're kidding right? That is so fucking rude she's literally been my best friend for years how could u even say that?

You: I don't even wanna talk to you. Don't text me for a while.

Derek: what? Babe ur being dramatic, I'm just telling the truth.

And with that you silenced notifications from him and closed your messaging app. A bitter scoff fell from your lips as you shut your phone off and practically threw it into your lap. Abbys brows raised at this, intrigued at what he said to get you so upset.

"What? What did he say?" She asked, leaning closer to you.

"Nothing, don't worry about it. He's being an idiot. Let's just talk about anything else, please." You rolled your eyes, not even wanting to think about him.

Abby respected your wishes of course, instead talking about one of her class assignments. She ranted about how difficult it would be, and asked if you'd help her with it. You said yes of course. Then once she was bored of that she suggested watching a movie. You agreed and soon the two of you were under the covers in your bed, backs against the headboard.

You set your laptop up on your legs, giving each of you a nice and comfortable view. Abby would only ever suggest horror so you just let her pick the movie without sny protest. She settled on a movie called Lights Out. As per usual, you found yourself resting you head on her shoulder as you wrapped your hands around her forearm.

You always seeked comfort during scary movies, and she had no problem providing you with that. With every jumpscare you'd yelp and turn so your face was pressed against Abbys shoulder. She'd chuckled lightly at your scaredy-cat demeanor, which she'd tease you relentlessly for later. The movie was nearly over when somebody knocked at your door, you thought maybe it was your floor supervisor doing a check-in.

"Babe? Come on, please let me in." Then you heard his voice.

You let out an angry huff, pausing the movie and looking over at Abby. She crossed her arms as she sat uncomfortably, watching as you got uo reluctantly to answer the door.

"What? I said I didn't wanna talk to you." Your tone was harsh as you answered the door.

"I know I just-" he stopped when he caught a glimpse of Abby, in your bed, "she's still here? And why is she in your bed? What the fuck!" He exclaimed.

"Oh my God. We were watching a movie! Now what do you even want?" You asked, already beyond annoyed.

"Well, I just came to try and reason with you." He answered.

"Ok and how are you gonna do that? What you said way completely insulting, I'm not gonna hear you out on this." You chuckled bitterly, turning around and walking into your room more.

Unfortunately he'd followed you in, Abby had moved to the edge of your bed now. She was nervous, never having seen the two of you fight before. She'd only heard of arguments from you, never actually witnessed it firsthand.

"Come on, you have to admit there was some truth to what I said!" He yelled, having closed your door behind him.

"There's really not though! Not in my eyes at least, don't you have anything else to say?" You asked, clearly expecting an apology.

"Like what? If you're looking for a sorry I'm not giving you one." He spoke as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

He stood his ground, crossing his arms as he was frozen in place. You sighed, bringing a hand to your face, resting it over your eyes. Abby stood now, coming to your side. Derek scoffed at this.

"Hey, it's fine." She whispered in your ear, a hand on your shoulder to comfort you.

"No it's not. I just want him out." You whispered back as you turned to face her, biting your lip nervously.

"Then just kick him out." She shrugged.

Your turned back around to face Derek, crossing your own arms as you stepped closer to him. He smiled at you smugly, clearly expecting something very different than what you were about to say.

"You need to leave. Get out, now." Your voice was stern.

"What? You're not serious." He shook his head in disbelief.

"Yeah, I am. Just get the fuck out. I don't want you here!" You shouted at him now, throwing your arms into the air frustratedly.

"Whatever man." He rolled his eyes, exiting and slamming the door shut behind him.

A deep sigh fell from your lips as you felt exhausted and drained. You sat on your loveseat once again, your head falling into your hands as tears welled in your eyes. It wasn't really the fact you argued with him, you just felt overwhelmed. Which was the worst for you.

Abby frowned as you started to cry, sitting close next to you as she brought an arm around your shoulders. You leaned into her almost immediately, wrapping your arms around her and she did the same. She rubbed at your back soothingly as you cried into her chest.

"Hey, it's gonna be fine ok? I'm here." She spoke softly, and you just nodded.

Eventually you calmed down, and of course because Abby helped you. She'd offer to stay the night, which you enthusiastically agreed to. You'd give her a t-shirt to borrow, and she'd just leave her basketball shorts from the day on. Then you got yourself changed, comfortable in just panties and an oversized t-shirt that was just long enough to reach past your ass.

You let her get into bed first, shutting off the light then laughing as you practically fell on top of her when you got into bed. She laughed too, feeling her cheeks burn red hot at the feeling of your body against hers in such an intimate way. Her hands found their easy to rest on the small of your back, your own resting on her shoulders.

She thanked the lord you'd shut off the light because otherwise she's sure you'd see how hard she was blushing. Or how she bit her lip so damn hard it nearly bled. After a moment, you rolled over and face the wall.

"Go to bed you goof." You whispered out, pulling your blanket to your chin.

"Good night." Was Abbys response as she lied down, facing you.

"Night." You responded, closing your eyes.

You'd fall asleep in no time, meanwhile Abby was having trouble. She just stared at your back, the way your hair fell on your shoulders. It was hard to not let her mind wander to not so clean places. Not like she's never thought about you in that way before, but this time felt different.

You two had cuddled before sure, but something about earlier felt so much more tense. The way you didn't say anything, just lied there. Then she thought about Derek. She knew you guys had sex before, but just the though of it disgusted her.

Realistically, Abby knew she could give you so much better. But she wasn't even sure if you liked girls. And if you did, why would you like her? You were just best friends after all, and making things romantic could just ruin everything. She was willing her mind to shut off now, tossing and turning uncomfortably. Then she heard you gasp awake.

"Y/n? You ok?" She asked, turning to face you once again.

"Yeah, yeah. Just had a nightmare is all." You answered, breathing a bit heavily as you turned to face her.

"Aw, sorry." She brought a hand to rest on your shoulder.

"Thanks." You brought your hand to your shoulder as well, resting it atop hers.

"Do you wanna talk about it or anything?" She asked.

"No, no. Actually would you- could you just hold me?" You asked, your voice shaking the slightest with nerves.

"Yeah, of course." Abby answered, which had a sigh of relief falling past your lips.

She pulled you into her side, and you wasted no time in wrapping your arms around her as you buried your face into her. And then, you hiked your leg up over her own. Abby swore she might stop breathing as she could feel the material of your panties against her bare leg. It was like something out of a wet dream.

She wrapped her arms around you as her mind went wild. It took all her willpower not to ask to fuck you right then and there, but she managed. The both of you fell asleep within the next hour.

Usually when you'd cuddle with Abby, you'd sleep throughout the night. But tonight was different. You woke up at nearly two in the morning, trying to catch your breath and wondering why you felt so weird. Then you realized, you had a sex dream... about Abby! What the hell!

This was new and very surprising. You wouldn't expect that in a million years. Well, maybe that's a stretch, but still. It was hard not to notice how wet you were, surely a spot had formed on your panties by now. You let out a low whine as you nuzzle your face into Abbys neck, your lips pressed against the side of it.

"Abbyyy. Abby wake up." You whined, shaking her lightly by holding onto her shoulder.

You waited as she finally stirred awake, groaning as her hand rested on your back. She closed her eyes as she talked to you.

"What?" She asked, tired.

"Abby don't go back to sleep. I- I need you." You stuttered as you spoke, feeling embarrassed.

"Huh? What do you mean?" Her eyes were definitely open now.

"Like- I need you." You let out a small whimper.

Abby soon got your message loud and clear as you started to kiss along her neck, leaving one hickey for good measure. Her breath hitched as you continued, kissing along her jaw ten making your way to her pulse point. A low moan came from her as you began to lightly suck and nip at it.

"Y/n, I don't know if this is a good id-" You put a hand over her mouth as you began to straddle her, your hair falling so it tickled the sides of her face.

"Come on Abby. Let's just help each other out. It can be a one time thing if you want." You whispered in a sultry voice.

"Fuck, ok." She did not want it to be a one time thing, but she'd be damned if she didn't let this happen right now.

Abby brought her hands to your waist, and you leaned forward to connect your lips to her own. She let her hands roam your body as you deepened the kiss, moaning into her mouth when she slipped her tongue into yours. The way she swirled it around your own drove you crazy, it felt like you were seeing stars.

You let out a sigh as you sat up, throwing your head back with pleasure as Abby squeezed your plump ass. She then moved her hands to your thighs, moving them so that you only straddle her left thigh. You bit down at your bottom lip, a smile on your face as you stabilized yourself by putting your hands on her chest.

Ever so slowly, Abby began to grind your hips. It put a delicious pressure to your clit, even through your panties. It didn't take you long yo remove them though, your bare cunt now gliding beautifully against her upper thigh. She'd flex it every so often, causing you to moan even louder than you already were. Abby smiled, letting out a small groan at the feeling of your slick gathering on her thigh.

"Fuckkk Abby~ you dont even know h-how long I've wanted th-this." You stuttered on your words as her hand remained on your hips, continuing to help you as you grinded against her.

"Tell me about it." She chuckled, admiring you as your eyes squeezed shut and your mouth hung open.

You brought your hands to Abbys shoulders now, your vocabulary consisting only of abbys name and a few curses. Given you weren't really talking much, mostly moaning pathetically as you felt yourself getting closer and closer to your release. A few more minutes passed and you knew if Abby kept going you'd cum.

"I'm gonna-" You moaned loudly, cutting yourself off, "gonna cum." You whined, gasping lightly.

"It's alright baby, go ahead. Come on, cum for me." She helped you continue as your hips stuttered.

And when you finally came, it was like you'd gone to heaven and back. You'd never felt this euphoric with anyone before. Abby smiled at you as you came down from your high, a small laugh falling past your lips.

You let out a quiet whine as you let your head fall to rest on her shoulder, her arms wrapped around you as you stayed sat in place. Abby rubbed her hands up and down your back, placing kisses along your cheek and down to the side of your neck.

"We done or did you wanna keep going?" She whispered.

"I definitely don't wanna stop." You whispered back, pulling your head up to kiss her on the lips.

Then you began to kiss her jaw, and down her neck. You went all along her collarbones, your hands running up and down her sides. You gazed up at her with a smile, brining your hands to the hem of her shirt and waiting for the ok. She nodded and lifted her arms, you pulled her shirt off and tossed it somewhere on the floor.

You brought your hands immediately to her tits, squeezing them gently then rolling her hard nippled between your fingers as you kissed down between them. You couldn’t help but laugh as you got her tummy and blew a raspberry on it. She laughed too.

"Wh- did you just blow a fuckin' raspberry down there?" She asked as she propped her elbows up on either side of herself.

"Maybe..." You answered shyly, chuckling.

"Just be quiet and let me do this." You spoke with some authority now.

"Yes ma'am.." She answered, closing her eyes as her head fell to rest on your pillows.

You'd kissed all the way down to the waistband of her shorts, looking up once again and waiting until she nodded before pulling both them and her panties off in one swift motion. Abby let out a deep moan as you licked a slow stripe up through her folds, collecting the majority of her slick onto the tip of your tongue. You groaned at the delightful taste of her.

Her moans grew louder as you wrapped your lips around her clit, sucking harshly before drawing figure 8's on it with the tip of your tongue. Then you shifted so you could bring a hand up, easily sliding in your middle and ring finger into her aching hole. Her breath stuttered as you curled your fingers, perfectly hitting her g-spot while continuing your assault on her clit.

Abbys hands gripped the sheets so hard her knuckles turned white, and she felt that familiar pressure building in her stomach. Unable to control herself, she jerked her hips forward and grinded onto your face. You let out a small moan, the vibration sending an entire new wave of pleasure to the blonde girl.

Her thighs closed instinctively as she reached her high, and you let them. Her chest rose and fell at a fast pace as she moaned and gasped through her blinding orgasm.

"Oh- God. I fucking love you Y/n." She moaned and your heart skipped a beat.

You didnt stop even after she came, until she used a hand to push you away, the overstimulation becoming too much to handle. You listened, pulling back with a sigh.

"Mm, fuck. Get up here and kiss me." Abby spoke breathlessly.

You listened immediately, crawling over top of her as you caged her between your arms. Your hands placed on the sheet as you leaned forward and sloppily kissed Abby. She whined at the taste of herself on your tongue, brining her hands to the back of your neck and tangling them in your hair. Once you pulled away your used the back of your hand to wipe her juices from your chin.

"Abby... I love you too." You spoke as you rested your forehead against hers.

She laughed, her hands now coming to hold your face lovingly. Her laughter was infectious as ever, causing small giggles to fall past your lips as well. You continued to giggle as she kissed each of your cheeks, the tip of your nose, your forehead, and then finally your lips.

"I'm gonna go get a washcloth, mkay?" You told her, already standing to make your way tonthe bathroom.

You came back to find Abby pulling her shirt back on. She smiled at you as you walked over to her, wiping both her thigh and between her legs. Then you cleaned yourself before tossing the washcloth into your hamper then putting a new pair of panties on. Abby put her own back on, letting her shorts stay on the floor.

Abby ran her hands through her hair, waiting for you to join her back into bed. She layed on her side and held her arms out for you. You wasted no time in curling up against her, wrapping your arms around her and nuzzling your face into her neck. Abby held you and rubbed your back until you both fell asleep again.

#abby anderson x reader #abby x reader #abby anderson x f!reader #abby x fem!reader #abby anderson x y/n #abby x y/n #abby anderson x you #abby x you #abby smut #abby anderson smut #abby anderson

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munsonsreputation · 10 months

Text

21 (already under)

eddie munson x fem!reader

word count: [3.2K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, lovers to strangers, mentions of underage drinking, crying (mentions of breakup), isolation, brief talk of anxiety, cursing, angst...ambiguous ending (maybe part 2)

summary: it's eddie's 21st birthday and though you two have been broken up for 2 years, you can't help but wonder if you should call him up and wish him a happy birthday. but to your surprise, it seems he has already beaten you to it.

Pacing back and forth in the living room of your apartment isn’t ideally how you imagined to be spending your Saturday night, but in hindsight, these days you practically spent the entire day confined to the four walls.

Your days used to be filled with stops at the trailer park to visit your favorite metal head and nights spent at the Hideout being his biggest fan in the crowd. But all of that, including him was now gone in the rearview for quite some time.

So much time had passed, but at the same time it felt like it was just yesterday where you and him went your separate ways, living two completely different lives in the same small town where you did your best to avoid each other.

But how could you avoid him without running into his friends or stumbling into Uncle Wayne at the grocery store from time to time?

All of it was just fucking impossible, and a huge chunk of you wanted to pack your things up and move away, but you knew his ghost would follow you everywhere no matter where you were in the world.

Even tonight, in the confines of your apartment, you couldn’t avoid him.

It was his twenty-first birthday today. The big 2-1 that marked the age where he could finally drink legally without facing any repercussions from Hopper. A coming of age that was supposed to be celebrated with you next to him at the Hideout.

You two had planned it out years ago when you were just seniors hanging out at Lover’s Lake with your hands intertwined and the sun setting down on the both of you.

“Hopper is gonna lose his shit if you get busted for underage drinking again.” You chided quietly, feeling him pull one of his hands away from your waist to reach over and grab an ice cold beer from the small cooler he packed.

He rolled his eyes playfully, taking a swig of the bitter before holding it out for you.

“He did the same thing when he was our age…maybe even a little worse! He’s got to cut me some slack.”

“In three years, you’ll be 21, then that’s when he’ll cut you some.”

Eddie scoffed, slinging his arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to him as you squealed, trying not to spill the beer all over the both of you. Resting your head on his shoulder, you got comfortable, taking a sip of the drink that was definitely not your choice of beverage on a scorching afternoon, but it would make do for now.

“My 21st is gonna be at the Hideout, obviously.” He said, rubbing his hand up and down the expanse of your arm.

You looked at up him through your lashes, blinking kindly, “Yeah? I just know the groupies are going to have a field day with you.”

He met your eyes followed by a dramatic huff as he shook his head and squeezed your skin lightly, almost in a soft, scolding way.

“Stop that. You know you’re my favorite fan…my one and only groupie.”

You scrunched your face up at him lovingly, puckering your lips and silently asking him to grant you with one of his famous kisses that you would never get tired of — even if it was a little peck.

“Do I still need to RSVP or will the offer still stand?” You mumbled against his lips.

You could feel his smile against your skin, before feeling another kiss come down on them.

“It wouldn’t be a celebration without you there.”

Yet here you were years later anxiously pacing your apartment and contemplating whether you should pick up the phone and at least greet him on his birthday before the clock strike midnight.

Part of you wanted to think that the split between you and Eddie was amicable, but in reality it was something so far from that. You had always thought that maybe Eddie would have seen it coming — that the growing distance and constant fighting was a telltale-sign of a break.

But he didn’t see it at all. In fact, he was completely blindsided.

“Just tell me how to make it better.” Eddie pleaded, holding your face in his hands, attempting to try to change your mind about your decision.

You couldn’t bear to look at him, to see the desperation, heartache, and confusion cluttering his features in the worst kind of way — the way that you couldn’t fix because it was coming from you.

“There’s nothing you can do,” you whimpered, shutting your eyes tightly as the salt poured down your cheeks and you forced your face away from his gentle touch.

He pursed his lips together, rubbing a rough hand down his face as the silence ate him up whole, not knowing if he was man enough to go in for a hug or ask you to leave and forget that you two ever existed in a world where you two loved each other.

Because he still loved you, even when you were standing in front of him, breaking his heart into a million pieces that were bound to be shattered all over again if he tried to make any other offers to fix it — fix you two.

Your sobs filled his bedroom, cries that even you couldn’t explain because no matter the distance or stupid fights you and Eddie got into, this was the last thing you wanted to do. Desperately you wanted to see it through, to know that you and him would grow out of the phase together and come out of it stronger, but you knew deep down that this was what you needed.

What your heart needed.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, swiping your fingers over your eyes as you finally opened them, met with the sight of him still crestfallen.

You couldn’t stand to be there any longer, brushing past his figure as you dashed through the trailer and dug for your car keys in your pocket. He didn’t chase after you — you had already left him standing there and he couldn’t bear watching you drive away too.

You weren’t sure what you were sorry for — perhaps everything.

The way it went down.

For not giving him any warning signs.

Leaving him with no closure at all.

If he was taking the heartbreak personally, you wouldn’t blame him because if he had done you the way you did him, you’d be avoiding him, too.

In defense, he avoided you first, ignoring phone calls where you wanted to check up on him and see how he was doing. Instead, you were met with Uncle Wayne’s voice telling you that the boy was busy — busying himself with trying to forget you.

“Who is it?”

You could hear him asking in the background, quickly covered up by his uncle clearing his throat trying to mask his nephew’s voice. It was then that you understood that things would never be the same, that Eddie couldn’t even bring himself to talk to you anymore because for him it was like torture.

But sometimes you’d imagine it would be different had you gone a different route with ending things with him. That maybe if you had let him down slowly you two would still be friends, maybe even the potential of getting back together someday.

Late nights since the breakup were spent dreaming up the scenarios where you and Eddie could co-exist—

“How are doing?” You asked honestly, reaching out a steady hand that you rested upon his watching the way his eyes flickered with content.

“Fine. I’m doing really fine.”

But then you wake up, the black and white in your dark bedroom and the empty spot beside you, a reminder that it wasn’t real, and it sure wasn’t forever. That you had left him unexpectedly with a flame without yours…leaving him on fire.

The sound of your landline ringing halted your undying pacing. Your stare burning a hole through the phone that rattled on your coffee table. It was nearly eleven, just an hour left before his birthday would be done and over with.

He was probably at the Hideout celebrating with his band, so it couldn’t possibly be him.

“H-hello?” You answered, kneeling at the table while one hand picked up the phone and the other held your forehead.

“Hey you, how is it going?”

Robin Buckley, the only person in Eddie’s life that still remained in yours, but from a distance. No in person hang outs or daily phone calls, just occasional check in’s to see how you were holding up because she knew that the breakup was still affecting you the way it was doing Eddie.

You sighed, shutting your eyes as your fingers rubbed your temples.

“I—I’m fine…you know, just hanging around. What about you?”

There wasn’t much energy you had left to try to convince her that you were doing something way more interesting than overthinking the night away. Despite you and her not being really close or acquainted, Robin was an expert at one thing, and that was reading between the lines and picking up on things.

She didn’t want to put you on the spot. To tell you that from your voice alone, she could tell you were lying through your teeth. She already knew it was hard enough already and her pointing it out would only make you feel worse.

So she cut to the chase.

“I saw Eddie tonight…at the Hideout for his birthday. Nance and I stopped by to buy him a few drinks and give him his present. He’s wasted. I mean just completely shit faced—”

You took a sharp breath in, squinting your eyes that were about to turn salty all over again.

“Why are you telling me this?”

It came out harsher than you wanted, but really the last thing you wanted to hear about was how Eddie was having such a blast without you there. Part of you wanted to think that he would relocate his birthday celebration, assuming it would bring up too much hurt partying in the place where he planned to do it with you.

There was a hitch in her breathing, probably partly taken aback by your tone, but she worked past that.

“I just thought you should know…”

Her voice teetered on the edge of wanting to say more, to tell you the full story, but she didn’t. She didn’t know if it was her place to tell you everything Eddie had said tonight, how his birthday celebration came to shit the second he got an ounce of tipsy.

“I appreciate it, Robin, but really, I’m—I’m over it, him,” you corrected, “I know he’s having fun.”

You didn’t mean to just hang up without allowing her to speak or say goodbye, but you couldn’t help it. One more second on the line with her and even just another word spoken of his name, then you were sure that you’d end up a crying mess with her consoling you through the phone.

You didn’t want to picture him half drunk happy, chugging down shots without a care in the world for the hangover he’d have the next morning. The way he’d have to wake up without someone taking care of him and holding his hair back as he’d throw up everything in his system. The thought of thinking about who was going to drive him home and get him back to the trailer safely.

It was sickening…the worrying thoughts that still lingered in your head when it came to him. How you shouldn’t even be concerned in the first place because he was an adult and capable of taking care of himself. Yet here you were still worrying, imagining the life you two would be living if you stayed in each other’s lives.

Even two years later this feeling didn’t budge and you were sure that if it kept up, it would be enough confirmation that you had made the biggest mistake of your life — letting your one true love slip through your fingers and now all that he would be was a painful reminder of the love you lost when you were younger.

And you were afraid that how it was going to stay.

You ran your fingers through your hair, giving the ends of them a particularly hard tug out of pure frustration and annoyance. Taking a deep breath, your hands ran down your thighs before you stood up and for the first time tonight you stopped pacing.

Instead, you began flipping the light switches off, ready to turn in for the night and accept the fact that wishing Eddie a happy birthday would do neither of you any good.

Reopening that wound would make it hurt more than it already was. Just because you were hurting and searching for that closure didn’t mean that he owed you that. He didn’t owe you the light of day, not even fifteen seconds of his time on a phone call.

It was already over and it was best you left it that way — to move on and keep trying to forget as everything just kept pulling you under.

You glanced back at your dim living room, fingers ready to pull on the beaded string on the lamp to make the whole place dark before you proceeded to walk towards your bedroom and sulk the night away, being greeted by the love of your life in your dream.

But instead, before the whole place could illuminate black and white, there was a knock at your door. One that pounded hard, almost banging, followed by grumbles on the other side of it.

“A—are you in there? I wanna…wanna talk!”

Another round of loud and noisy knocks and for a second you thought you were in a dream. Pinching your skin to try to wake you up from the horrible nightmare that was tormenting you and your frail little heart. But to no one’s surprise, it was real — more knocking and his garbled talking confirmed it.

Your feet moved quickly against the wooden floors, crossing the boundaries between the living room and entrance where you stood on the other side of the door, fingers moving nimbly to undo the lock and chain before you pulled it open.

There he was in the flesh, leaning up against your doorframe, lazily keeping himself steady. He reeked of alcohol and you weren’t sure if it was merely his deep breathing that pushed the sharp smell of vodka and whisky towards your nostrils — or if he had spilt a drink or two all over himself, but it was clear that he was wasted.

Just as Robin had told you — maybe even more.

You wanted to avoid eye contact, to try to focus your sights on somewhere other than his deep brown orbs that could see right through you, but it was futile. Immediately your eyes met, the stare lingering so intensely, speaking volumes in the most silent and torturous way possible.

Though he was intoxicated, he still knew you like the back of his hand. Could read every emotion that covered your face and even beneath the exterior that you tried to put on. He knew you had been crying.

The swollen skin around your eyes dropping them down and making them look sadder than usual.

The tip of your nose red from the constant sniffles and swipes of tissue.

The frown that remained on your face and the slight quiver of your top lip that indicated you were holding it back all over again.

“W-what are you doing here?” Your voice was small and gravelly, breaking harshly, and though you coughed to try to play it off, he still knew.

Eddie watched you. The way your arms crossed over your chest and you finally had the courage to flicker your sights away from him, looking down at his covered feet instead. Your fingers tips pinching and tightening on your skin awaiting his response.

“I don’t know…t—to say that I’m sorry.”

You pinched your brows together, snapping your head up to look at him, “Sorry? Sorry for what, exactly?”

He shrugged his shoulders as he frowned deep and shook his head like he didn’t even know why he was here standing in front of you.

“Before you left, you said sorry…b-but you didn’t give me a chance to say it.”

You didn’t know what to say, hell you didn’t even know if you had any words left to speak even if there was still so much left unspoken. You stood there, eyes glued to his droopy ones that blinked slowly before he finally leaned off the wood and took a step back further into the hallway.

He was stumbling over his feet, but you didn’t dare take a step forward to help him. Eddie didn’t need you to. He regained his balance with his head down, holding a finger out towards you in a sign for you to wait. To not shut the door and leave him out again.

“Why couldn’t you just…just let me fix it?”

He tumbled over his words, keeping his head low in an effort to not break down here right now, but he couldn’t help but look at you when all he got was silence.

You swallowed, biting your tongue while the tips of your fingers turned white from the harsh pinching, desperate to want to run away and hide even when this was all you wanted for the past two years.

“You didn’t even let me try. Do you know how much it h-hurts?”

The end of his question broke with his voice, a whimper and a crack that let you know that the salt would start pouring any second now. And it was the same for you, his figure now a blurry mess as you croaked and shook your head, still not speaking.

He jabbed his finger into his chest while his face scrunched up, almost turning red with the tears that began to pool in his eyes.

“I…I still love you and you were supposed to be there tonight. I kept hoping you would show up. T-that you didn’t forget—”

Your foot stomped against the floorboards as you finally let up on your arm and brought your hands up to your cheeks to whip the tears away.

“I didn’t forget, Eddie! How the hell could you think I could ever forget?”

Here you two stood yet again, resorting to this…whatever this was.

You didn’t try to shut the door or step back as he finally stepped closer, closing the space between the both of you and just leaving inches. His face was nearly nose to nose with you as you both stood there and breathed in everything.

The regret.

The longing.

The pain.

The loss.

The love that never left.

All of it flooding your senses and screaming at you to say everything that you had been bottling up. To release everything that you had taken with you under the waves of wicked currents in winless fights. That even if the lights were on or off, life without him was black and white, the cruelest kind of way to live because he showed you color that you could never see with anyone else.

And unlike the last time you and Eddie stood in front of each other, this time you didn’t pinch your eyes shut or move away from his hands that clutched your cheek. He didn’t have to be the love of your life inside your head when he was standing right before you.

“I missed you…and I’m sorry.”

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taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa @pbs-theundeadmaggot @johnricharddeacy @gaysludge @scoopshxrrington @micheledawn1975 @ihatepeanutss

a/n: my first pure angst feel kinda fic that i've written! i don't have a part 2 planned for this yet, but maybe i'll write one depending on how i am feeling and what i think the future would look like for reader and eddie!! i love "21" by gracie and this song just screamed eddie vibes...i hope you guys like it!!!

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