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flickering-chandelier · 7 hours

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I Love You, It's Ruining My Life

Pairing: Azriel x Bestfriend! Reader

Summary: Azriel and Reader have been best friends for years, and slowly Reader starts to fall for him. He eventually feels the same way, but after Reader overhears a conversation she wasn’t meant to, she has doubts about him.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: angst with a happy ending, a little swearing

Work Count: 5.2k

You twisted around in front of the mirror, trying to look at the dress from every angle. “What do you think, Az?”

Your friend looked at you, his eyes trailing down your body, and wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Really?” You faced the mirror again, cocking your head. “I think it’s pretty.”

“It cinches weirdly around your middle,” he said.

You studied yourself in the mirror again, realizing he was right. “Wow. See, this is why I bring you along. Who knew your spymaster focus would be so helpful for fashion.”

He laughed, throwing his head back against the couch he was sitting on, and you couldn’t help but smile. You always felt a twinge of pride whenever you could make the stoic shadowsinger laugh like that.

“So this one, then?” You asked, gesturing to the first dress you had tried on earlier.

“That is the one,” he shot you a lopsided smile. “The poor fool won’t know what hit him.”

Later, you plopped down into the chair next to Azriel’s in the sitting room at the House, groaning.

Azriel arched a brow in question.

“You were right,” you sighed. “He was a fool.”

Az poured you some of the amber liquid he was drinking, handing the glass to you. “What kind of fool? Do I need to defend your honor?” he asked, a hard edge to his voice.

Laughing dryly, you said. “No, nothing like that. Just a lame date. I can’t believe I bought a new dress for that guy.”

He smiled sadly at you. “Hey, the right guy will go crazy for that dress.”

You winced, taking a sip of the drink. “I guess,” you grumbled.

“Come here,” he said, opening his arms. “You know I won’t let you be all grumbly by yourself.”

Smiling faintly, you rose from your seat and settled in his lap, resting your head on his shoulder, his arms wrapping comfortingly around you.

“When’s it gonna happen for us, Az? When do we get to find what Rhys and Feyre have?” You asked, quietly.

He sighed, leaning his cheek into the top of your head. “I don’t know. But at least you and I are alone together.”

You laughed, and he tightened his arms around you slightly, clearly pleased. You felt your sad heart mending slightly as your best friend in the world held you long into the night.

---

A few days later, you sighed, pushing your food around your plate at lunch in Velaris with Azriel.

Azriel watched you, those hazel eyes calculating. “You’re not still moping about that date, are you?”

“I’m not moping,” you scolded him. “And no, of course it’s not about the date. He is not worthy of my sighs.”

The side of his mouth curved into a smile. “So, what is it then?”

Shrugging noncommittally, you said, “Honestly, I don’t know. I just feel…bummed.”

That smile of his dropped, his mouth thinning into a line. “Are you done eating?”

You blinked, confused. “Yeah, I think so.”

He tossed money onto the table, nodding his head to the side, indicating it was time to go. “Come on.”

“Where are we going?” You asked, rising to follow him.

“You’ll see,” he said, slinging his arm around your shoulders as you walked.

It took several minutes before you knew what he was planning and you grinned up at him as you realized where he was leading you.

He smiled, kissing the top of your head as you neared your favorite ice cream shop.

Your heart swelled as Azriel ordered your favorite ice cream. You should have known. Your parents had always taken you here when you needed a pick-me-up, and Azriel had continued the tradition, knowing it always made you feel better, at least for a little bit.

Gazing up at the man who knew you so very well, your heart began to crack.

---

Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you settled on the couch beside him, tucking you against his side as his whole family roamed around the River House.

It had been Feyre’s idea to get everyone together for an evening, just to spend time in each other’s company.

“How are you?” he said, eyes boring into yours. He had been extra watchful of you lately, since your mood had dimmed weeks ago. He couldn’t understand why this dark cloud had been following you around lately. It broke his heart that he couldn’t fix it.

“Good,” you murmured, smiling faintly at him.

His brow furrowed, but before he could question you further, Cassian plopped down on the other side of you, grinning.

Cassian pulled your attention then, telling an animated story about how training had been going in the Illyrian mountains.

Azriel wasn’t really listening, still studying you. You laughed at something that Cassian had said, the sound bright, bouncing off the walls, your smile lighting up your face. The tightness in Azriel’s chest eased a bit.

Feyre and Elain beckoned you into the kitchen then, and you followed, leaving Azriel and Cassian alone in the sitting room for the moment.

Cassian nodded after you, shooting Azriel a knowing look. “What’s the deal with her?”

“I don’t know,” Azriel said, sighing. “She’s been… off lately.”

Cassian looked contemplative. “Have you ever thought about… you know…” he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“What, being with her? Romantically?” Azriel furrowed his brow.

“Yeah. I mean, you guys are cuddly enough.”

“Not like that, though,” Azriel said. “No, it’s never been like that between us.”

Cassian shrugged. “Okay. But, you never thought that you might be missing out?”

Azriel thought about it for a moment, what it would be like. “I don’t know. I’ve never thought about her like that.”

“Maybe you should.”

Before Azriel could respond, Nesta stalked into the room, taking Cassian’s attention completely.

---

It had been months since you had come home from that terrible date, since Azriel had held you that night, since your mind and your heart began to wonder.

Azriel had always been your friend. Though he was beautiful and amazing, you had never before thought about being anything other than his friend. Nothing between you had really changed at all in the last few months, and yet…

It was Azriel’s face in your mind as you fell asleep. It was Azriel’s touches that you dreamed of, over and over again. It was Azriel, who knew you so well, who was always, always there for you, that occupied your mind day in and day out.

You knew he had sensed a shift in you. But you didn’t think he understood what that shift was. That you had, without even really realizing it, fallen in love with him.

Cauldron, you were doomed.

“Where did you just go?” Feyre said, bringing you out of your thoughts.

“Nowhere,” you lied.

She narrowed her eyes at you, bouncing Nyx in her lap.

“Okay, I actually really need to talk to somebody about this. But if I tell you, you can’t tell anybody, not even Rhys.”

Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded in agreement.

“I kinda have feelings for Azriel.”

Feyre bit her lip, trying to hide her surprise. “Since when?”

You shrugged. “It happened slowly. Little things started sticking out to me all of a sudden and now… Now I can’t stop thinking about him. And I don’t know what to do.”

“You could tell him how you feel,” Feyre offered, smiling softly.

You groaned. “But I don’t think he sees me that way. If I tell him, it could ruin our whole friendship.”

Feyre tilted her head, contemplating. “You think so? Even if he doesn’t feel the same way, he’s Az. I can’t imagine that he would ever abandon someone he loves for any reason.”

“I guess,” you said distantly. “But it would make things really awkward, at the very least.”

Feyre smiled. “Or, it could turn into something amazing.”

You scoffed. “With our luck in love? Unlikely.”

“Maybe nothing has worked out for you two so far because you’re supposed to be together.”

Your heart swelled at the thought, but you stomped down the hope. “Maybe,” you said, your mind wandering again. “Maybe.”

---

Your blood rushed in your ears, your body tense as you and Azriel sat together in the sitting room of the House the next evening. It physically hurt to be near him these days. Your body ached to be close to his.

“What’s up with you?” Azriel asked.

“Nothing, I just…” you trailed off, looking across the room at him, willing yourself to tell the truth. “I love you, Az.”

He smiled. “I love you, too.”

He didn’t get it. He didn’t bat an eye at you, at his friend he had loved platonically for so long. Your heart sank.

It hurt to look at him now. You knew it couldn't be the same between you, not now that you had foolishly fallen for him.

You took a sip of your drink, wishing it was stronger, and forced yourself through easy conversation with your best friend.

---

“What’s wrong?” you asked him immediately upon seeing him weeks later, and Azriel couldn’t help but smile. You had always been able to sense the shift in his mood, even if things had felt… different between the two of you lately.

He sighed. “We’re unlucky in love, you and I.”

You stiffened, and he wondered if he had said something wrong, but continued. “You know, the whole Mor, Elain…thing. I’ve just been thinking about what you said that night ages ago. I just wonder when it’ll happen for us.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked to you, and you gulped, tense in a way he’d never seen when it was just the two of you. “What is it?” he asked.

“Nothing,” you said, too quickly. “I’m sorry. That you’re feeling unlucky in love.”

He lifted a brow. “Are you okay?”

You nodded then stood up quickly, walking toward the door. Azriel stood, wrapping his fingers around your wrist, pulling gently so you would turn back to face him. “Hey. Talk to me,” he said softly.

Your eyes swam with emotion, and you seemed to be pondering what to say. “I can’t talk to you about this,” you said quietly, your voice breaking.

“What do you mean?” Azriel tried to push down the hurt he felt. “We talk about everything.”

“Not this, Az,” you said sadly, before gently pulling your hand out of his grasp and disappearing down the hallway.

What the hell.

Azriel spent nearly an hour contemplating what had just happened. Were you upset with him? Or were you just keeping something from him? If you were, why?

He ran over the last several weeks in his mind, all of his interactions with you. You had definitely been acting differently around him, sitting further away from him, not spending as much time with him one-on-one, but he assumed you would talk to him when you were ready. Evidently, you still were not ready. But, what could it possibly be that you couldn’t talk to him about it?

It was your relationships, well your lack of relationship with Mor and Elain that seemed to set this off.

And then he remembered what Cassian had said weeks ago, that maybe he should consider you as a romantic partner. His brother was always smarter than most people gave him credit for. Did Cassian know something? Was he trying to tell Azriel?

His head spun. Did you have feelings for him?

It would actually explain a lot of your behavior for the past few weeks, especially if you thought that he didn’t feel the same way.

Did he feel the same way?

He sat back in his chair. Why hadn’t he ever considered you before? You were beautiful, of course, and one of the very best people he had ever known. And you were his best friend, who knew him better than he knew himself, in many ways. Who he could talk to about anything. Who already loved him so much.

Maybe he should be with you.

He did love you, of course. So… maybe the two of you should give it a shot.

Before he could think it through, he went to your room, knocking gently. He had to know if he was right.

You answered the door in a thin night dress, your hair cascading down your shoulders. Gods, you were beautiful. What an idiot he'd been.

“Az?” You asked.

Before he could talk himself out of it, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his. He gauged your reaction, waiting for you to tense, but you didn't. You melted into him, placing your hand on his chest and gazing up at him with big, beautiful eyes.

Slowly, so slowly, he leaned down, and you tilted your face up to meet him, longing written all over your face. His heart rate spiked as his lips finally met yours.

The kiss was slow, sweet, exploratory. A new dance between old friends.

You moaned slightly, twining your fingers into his hair, pulling him closer to you.

He growled, pushing you back further into your bedroom, kicking the door shut with his foot.

You had a long night ahead of you.

---

It had been about a week since you and Azriel had stepped into a new form of your relationship.

It was funny, actually. Not that much had actually changed, except you were more comfortable around him now, like you had been before the last few weeks had complicated things. The two of you spent so much time together one on one before, the only difference now was all the kissing and the bedroom activities. And how many times you would tell him that you loved him, your eyes shining with that love.

He was starting to feel like he hadn't thought it all the way through. He loved you. Of course he did. But, he was worried that your love for him was deeper. And he couldn't bear the thought of hurting you.

“Where'd your mind go, Az?” Cassian asked, and Rhysand chuckled.

“He's thinking about his new girlfriend,” Rhys grinned.

Azriel’s jaw tightened. “I'm worried,” he admitted.

“About?” Cassian asked, leaning forward, his full attention on Azriel.

“I think her feelings are deeper than mine. I'm starting to worry that I may have…” he trailed off, not wanting to admit it.

“Settled?” Rhys offered.

Azriel winced, but nodded. “Maybe.”

“What, you don't love her?” Cassian asked.

“I do. Of course I love her.”

“Well, there you go,” Cassian said, waving a hand dismissively. “I think you're overthinking this.”

“Maybe just give it time,” Rhysand said contemplatively. “You know how she is. She feels things very deeply. You might catch up to her faster than you think.”

“Maybe. I hope so,” Azriel said, his mind wandering away again, back to you. Back to the love that shone in your eyes when you looked at him.

He would have to be careful. He would not break your heart. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

---

Years later, snuggled up to Azriel, watching children screaming and running around the River House the night before Winter Solstice, you couldn’t imagine being happier.

Azriel and you had been talking about trying for children soon. Your heart swelled as you watched Cassian’s and Rhysand’s children grow up together, picturing your own children growing up in all this love, with cousins and aunts and uncles who would love them so much.

You smiled and Azriel kissed your temple. “I know exactly what you’re thinking,” he murmured into your skin.

“You do not,” you smiled.

“I do,” he said, ducking his head to whisper in your ear. “You wanna try for a baby tonight?” His breath tickled your ear, his voice dipping suggestively.

You laughed, playfully shoving him away, and he grinned. “Tonight? The one night a year we sleep under the same roof as our entire family? Absolutely not.”

He pulled you into his lap, kissing you sweetly. “Tomorrow then?” he whispered.

You rolled your eyes, but your heart swelled with love. “We’ll see,” you teased.

Elain called you into the kitchen then, and you went to join her, shooting a wink at Az over your shoulder as you went. He grinned.

Your family was scattered all over the house, leaving Rhys, Cassian, and Azriel alone in the living room next to the kitchen with some of the children.

You could hear them laughing together as you helped Elain prep some of the food for the following morning.

Your ears perked up when you heard your name and Elain shot you a curious look, clearly eavesdropping along with you.

“Remember when you two first got together?” Rhysand asked, likely to Azriel.

“Yes,” Az chuckled softly. “We’ve come a long way since then.”

“I can’t believe you were ever unsure about her,” Cassian said. “That you were worried you had settled.”

Shock jolted through your entire body, your blood pounding in your ears. You nearly dropped the plate that you were holding.

“I was a fool,” Azriel said, and you could picture him shaking his head slightly. “I can’t imagine life without her. I can’t believe I lasted so long just being her friend.”

“She’s got you wrapped around her little finger,” Rhysand teased.

“Oh, like you’re not the same with Feyre,” Azriel shot back, and all three brothers erupted into laughter.

You looked at Elain finally, her expression solemn, like she could see right through to your soul, how broken you felt.

Without a word, you left the kitchen, going up to the guest room that you and Azriel occupied when you stayed with Feyre and Rhysand.

Azriel had settled for you. He was sad that night that he first kissed you, sad about not getting a shot with Mor or Elain, so he had gone to the one person he knew would never deny him.

All this time, all these years, he had just been settling with you because he didn’t want to be alone. You felt sick.

You had fallen in love with him, and to him you were just there. Ready for the taking. That’s why he chose you.

Your stomach lurched, and you scrambled to the bathroom, spilling your guts, hot tears streaming down your face, sobs shaking your whole body.

---

Azriel frowned sometime later, wondering why you hadn’t come back yet. He wandered away from his brothers, finding Elain alone in the kitchen. She frowned at him as he entered, looking angrier than he had ever seen her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go ask your wife?”

He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean? Where is she?”

“She went upstairs a while ago,” Elain said curtly, turning back to her pastries.

Azriel’s heart pounded. What had happened to make Elain angry at him? Why had you gone upstairs without saying goodnight to anyone?

He rushed up to the room, confused when he didn’t see you anywhere, until he heard you sniffling in the washroom. His heart lurched, panic setting in as he swung the door open, finding you lying on the floor, hugging your legs to your chest, facing away from him.

He whispered your name, his anxiety increasing. When you didn’t answer, he sat down next to you, rubbing your back soothingly, gently setting your head into his lap. He saw your tear stained cheeks, your red eyes, and the breath was sucked right out of his lungs.

“What happened, love? What is it?” he asked, trying to sound calm.

You refused to look at him, staring ahead blankly.

He had never seen you like this. “Honey, you’re scaring me, please tell me what’s wrong,” he said, his voice breaking.

Finally, you sat up and walked back into the bedroom, still not looking at him. As you did, you mumbled, “you settled.”

“What?” he asked, following you into the bedroom.

You slid under the covers, facing away from him. “You settled with me. You didn’t want to be alone, so you kissed me that night. And you settled with me.”

“I didn’t,” he said, quietly. “I did not settle. I love you. So much.”

You buried yourself further into the covers, hiding yourself from him. His heart ached. “All this time,” you whispered. “All this time. You must have been just waiting for Mor or Elain to change their minds, huh?”

“No,” he said, his voice coming out quiet and crackly. He rounded the bed, willing you to look at him. He settled on his knees, looking into your eyes, cupping your cheek with a scarred hand. “No. It was never like that. It was never about them. I love you, I always have,” he said, willing you to believe him, to feel that he meant it.

A tear slid down your cheek. His heart broke further as he wiped it away gently with his thumb. “That’s not what Cassian said,” you whispered.

Azriel sighed, his eyes pleading. “I was worried. When we first started dating, I was worried that your feelings were deeper than mine. You always feel things so deeply, my love, and that’s one of the things that I love the most about you. I was scared that I wasn’t at the same level that you were, and you would get hurt because of it.”

“Looks like I have,” you whispered.

“But it’s not like that now, it hasn’t been like that for years. I’ve known for so long that you are the only person in the world that I could ever want. Please,” Azriel whispered. “Please believe that I am so in love with you. It was one stupid conversation ages ago, and I’m so sorry that I hurt you, but you have to believe me. You are the love of my life.”

“I don’t know how to believe you right now,” you said quietly, your voice breaking.

Azriel’s heart broke completely. Your face was completely blank in a way he had never seen before. “What can I do?”

“I don’t know, Az. I need -- I need space.”

He gulped, but nodded, rising to his feet slowly “Okay. I’ll be downstairs, if you need me.”

You didn’t respond. He willed his legs to move, to leave you behind, broken, in the bed you were supposed to share.

Cassian and Rhys were the only people left downstairs by the time he made it back down, drinking and laughing together.

One look at their brother’s face, and they went silent.

“I fucked up,” Azriel said, taking the glass from Cassian’s hand and shooting the amber liquid back in one gulp.

Cassian handed Azriel the whole bottle, who would have laughed, if he hadn’t ripped his own heart to shreds that night.

He took a swig before saying quietly, “she heard our conversation. She thinks I settled with her.”

“Shit,” Cassian said, his face falling.

“What did you tell her?” Rhys asked, his expression solemn too.

“The truth. I was worried that in the beginning that she loved me more than I loved her, but now… Gods, I’m so in love with her. But she said she can’t trust me anymore,” he said, a tear running down his cheek before he quickly wiped it away.

His brothers were silent for a moment, thinking.

After a moment, Cassian said, “Yeah, I don’t know how you fix this, Az.”

Azriel laughed humorlessly, taking another sip from the bottle. “Thanks.”

“She might just need some time,” Rhysand said.

“You didn’t see her,” Azriel said, his voice breaking again. “She was…” he trailed off and shook his head. “I’ve never seen her like that. She’s wrecked. Because of me.”

His brothers stayed up with him for a long time, trying to console him, but he eventually sent them away to their happy mates who still loved them.

He laid on the couch, his wings drooping on the floor, his heart hurting. He hadn’t spent a night away from you since you had gotten together unless he was on a mission. This felt fundamentally wrong.

Eventually, he got up, wandering through the quiet house. He made his way into the study, digging out some paper. He had to fix this. He needed you to understand.

---

You’d barely slept at all, and winced when the sun started lightly filtering into the room that shouldn’t be so empty.

You didn’t know how to feel, what to think. You knew Azriel loved you. But was it enough? Was it the same, all-consuming love that you felt for him?

How could you ever be sure?

After just one night, you missed the heat of his body against yours, hated rolling over to see the other side of the bed empty.

Cauldron, you had been talking about children less than 12 hours ago, and now…

You shoved the thought away, your eyes still burning from crying all night. You refused to start up again.

What a Winter Solstice this would turn out to be. Maybe you should just go home.

Alone, in the apartment that you had turned into a home with Azriel. Your bottom lip trembled, and you bit it, hard. You were strong, you would survive this.

Whatever this ended up being.

Your mind was still spinning and you hadn’t yet gotten out of bed when there was a tentative knock on your door.

“What?” you said, quietly, your voice not sounding like your own.

Azriel opened the door slowly, studying you as he lingered in the doorway. He looked awful, bags under his eyes, his clothes rumpled, his hair a mess, like he had run his hand through it over and over again.

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” you replied timidly.

His face fell and you knew why. You had never sounded like that, not with him.

He took a cautious step into the room, watching you closely. “I made something. For when you're ready,” he said, placing a stack of papers on the bedside table.

You remained silent, not sure what to say. He swallowed, and turned to leave, but he stopped in the doorway, turning back to you. “I do love you. So much.”

His expression was pained, and you could tell he wanted to say more, but he just looked at you sadly before disappearing behind the door he closed behind him.

It wasn’t until after you took a long bath that you had the courage to look at the papers he had left for you. You sat on the bed, pulling them into your lap, surprised at how many pages there were.

On the top, in Azriel’s handwriting it said, “To My Dearest Love.”

Despite everything, you couldn’t stop the swell in your chest, the love that you felt for him.

You were shocked as you read through page after page. He had written your story, the story of your love from his perspective, every date you had gone on, every Winter Solstice, every milestone. He detailed his thoughts as he went through each of those moments, all the things he loved about you, when he noticed new little things about you, even after being friends for so long.

Tears were streaming down your face by the time you got to the end, where it read:

You, my love, are everything. Everything. If you’ll let me, I’ll spend the rest of our lives proving it to you.

I’m sorry that I was a fool. I’ll always be sorry that I hurt you.

Whatever you decide, whatever you want going forward, I just hope that you’ll know how deeply I love you.

---

Azriel had gone to the annual snowball fight with his brothers, only for a distraction. But his heart wasn’t in it, and after about ten minutes, his brothers had deemed his snowball game so pathetic that they called it off and all went inside to the cabin to drink.

He knew he was being tragic company, so Azriel went back to the River House on his own, prepared to find a quiet corner to sulk in by himself. He hoped you had read what he stayed up all night writing, at least. Even if it didn’t change anything…

He didn’t let himself dwell on what could happen. He didn’t know what he would do if you left him.

He nearly fell over when he noticed that you were sitting in the living room that he had used his shadows to winnow into.

You looked surprised too, but not unhappy. Relief flooded through him.

“Hi,” you said, quietly.

“Hi,” he said, his voice raspy.

You stood up, walking toward him slowly, stopping a few steps from him. He longed to hold you, to make it all better, but he stayed where he was.

“I read it,” you whispered.

He could only nod, his heart in his throat.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and his heart shattered, terror flooding through him before you closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

He hugged you back instantly, holding you to him with crushing force.

“I don’t want to be mad at you anymore,” you said into his chest. “I love you.”

Azriel felt like he was going to fall over, the only thing that was keeping him standing was you. “I love you,” he said, letting the tears fall freely down his cheeks, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I love you, I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head. “You don’t have to be sorry. I get it now. What you wrote -- it helped me understand. And it was beautiful.”

“I’m still sorry I hurt you,” he said, his voice cracking.

You stood on your tiptoes to kiss him gently. “It’s okay, Az. I’m okay.”

Azriel took your face in his hands gently, kissing you like his life depended on it. He felt like it did.

You let him kiss you for ages, until the two of you realized that you were no longer alone. Azriel looked up to see that his brothers and winnowed in and were now staring at the two of you.

“Oh, thank the Mother,” Cassian said, bracing his hands on his knees dramatically before coming up and hugging you, lifting you into the air, while Rhys laughed behind him. “You guys really had me worried.”

“I take it you worked it all out?” Rhysand asked, kissing your cheek after Cassian set you back on the ground.

“Yeah, we’re okay now,” you said, laughing at them.

Rhysand and Cassian did look extremely relieved, which made Azriel’s heart swell. He would always be thankful for his brothers.

---

After a surprisingly successful Winter Solstice, you and Azriel made your way back home, now cuddling together in your bed, holding each other tightly.

Azriel kissed the top of your head. “I’ll always be so thankful for you. I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

You snuggled closer into him. “We’re both lucky.”

Azriel laughed. “Speaking of getting lucky… you want to try for that baby now?”

You gawked at him, incredulously. “What, too soon?” he asked, smirking.

“Males are ridiculous,” you scolded him.

After a beat, Azriel risked it. “I didn’t hear a no…”

You laughed, pulling him into a kiss. “You’re so stupid.”

Azriel grinned. “Oh, I know.”

@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch @batboyrhyrhy @1-s1mp-t00-much

#acotar fic #acotar one shot #acotar x reader #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel #azriel acotar #azriel one shot #azriel x you #azriel fluff #azriel angst #acotar angst #acotar fluff #acotar imagine #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #request

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justanamesstuff · 2 days

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Sweeter than honey - Hozier x f!reader

A/N: sorry not sorry if this is the most cliché thing about Andy but couldn't help my self. This fic is a statement to say this man deserves more stories under his name <33 love you forest daddy (hope you never reads this haha) Warnings: FLUFF, typos Words count: 0.7 k

The short path from Andrew’s house to the –no so small — patch of his land, destined to his bees, felt like it took ages to walk down. She felt her stomach turn due to anxiety thinking about the task in hand. Y/n had been stung by a bee during her childhood, traumatizing her enough so the pain, the fear, remained for years and years. The woman damned herself for being in love with the biggest beekeeper around town.

Her sight fell on Andrew’s back, watching him walk with so much excitement, she couldn’t reciprocate. The man had been trying for the longest time to convince his girlfriend to meet his bees, being the offer declined time and time again. Until Y/n felt guilty enough and finally said yes. She would never forget the bright smile he gifted her when Y/n timidly asked about the process and she could join him during his next visit.

As if he could sense her eyes on him, Andrew turned around still walking not wasting any minute, scared about Y/n changing her mind.

“Baby?” his smile fell a little.

“If one of them sting me…” she warned him, still scared of the situation.

Andrew stopped in his tracks, worried about his girlfriend once more. The man grabbed her hand on his, sharing some warmth, wishing it could take away her fear.

Searching for her eyes, he continued, “trust me, okay?”

Y/n couldn’t help to push her feet down on the earth like a little child throwing a tantrum. The act made her boyfriend laugh.

“Baby…” she wanted to wipe his amusement away.

“Stop making fun of me. This is serious for me, Andy.”

He moved closer and closer, rounding her with his big arms.

Y/n felt his breath on her hair line, “I know, I know. Everything will be okay, I wouldn’t let you get hurt, baby. I promise.” Andrew ended his sentence leaving a kiss on her forehead.

“Okay, let's do this.” she moved backwards, giving him a stronger look than before, trying to let him know she was ready.

Hand in hand, they approached the colonies.

……………………………………..

In the end, Y/n had fun with Andrew and his bees. He showed her the day-to-day work, the progress of each colony, and even she saw a queen from up close, which excited her the most. She did fell scared during the first movements when he was worried about a box falling apart and all his attention was in transferring the colony to their new home.

Even though after that short moment, her boyfriend was focused on making her fell comfortable around his little friends. It was even ironic how gentle the bees were, just as Andy, making her fell quickly in love with them.

Y/n watched him too his special outfit, trying to comb his long hair, and like a little excited girl she started talking.

“So, when do we come back?”

Andrew chuckled.

“Someone is not scared any more, huh?” he teased her, combing his hair back into his signature bun.

Y/n felt too seen by her boyfriend, “Well, I-”

“We can return tomorrow, if you want…” Andrew offered, taking her face between his big hands.

“Really?”

“Yes, baby. Whatever you want.”

“I would love to!” she answered, looking into his soft eyes.

“Me too.” he left a kick kiss on her lips, feeling her relax into his embrace.

Y/n was the first one to push back, “I can’t wait to see them again.”

Andrew, amazed by her changed of attitude towards the bees, faked a frown.

“I’m starting to believe you prefer them over me.”

“Hundred percent yes!” Y/n joined the joke, whispering her answer before covering her mouth quickly with her hand. “Never, my love.”

The singer laughed at her antics, leaning down to kiss her once more.

Without many more words, Andrew and Y/n walked in silence towards his house when an intrusive though crossed Y/n’s head.

“Would you name a queen after me?”

Andy stayed silence.

“Andy?”

Still no answer.

“Don’t tell me…” Y/n turned to witness a very red-faced Andrew. “Stop it! You’re too sweet to be true, honey!” she exclaimed, making her best effort to kiss his blushed cheeks.

#hozier #hozier x reader #hozier x y/n #andrew hozier byrne

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mrprettywhenhecries · 14 hours

Text

don’t waste your time (on me) [g.t]

07. | Anything You Say Can and Will Be Held Against You (So Only Say My Name)

Gator Tillman ✘ Win Lewis (OC)

⇾ w.c. 6.2k words ⇾ tags/warning(s). canon x oc pairing, f!oc, misogynistic themes, death/blood, Roy being an asshole, cnc (consensual noncon), role play, rough sex, p in v, unprotected sex, dom!gator, spanking, pussy slapping, knife play, handcuffs, ownership kink ⇾ a/n. Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! 💚

After Munch kills his partner and Gator gets a dressing down from Roy, he desperately needs to let off some steam and feel like a winner. Luckily, Win is only too happy to oblige.

[ masterlist • win bio ]

Gator’s watch buzzed on his wrist and he stirred, groaning as he lifted his head from Win’s lap. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but the events from earlier had left him more exhausted than he’d realized, and Win’s lap and the way she ran her fingers through his hair after she’d sucked his soul through his dick was so comforting, he’d drifted off almost instantly.

The tv played softly in the background, but it seemed Win had fallen asleep as well, and Gator got up slowly, careful not to jostle her awake. She looked so soft in her sleep, so vulnerable. He still couldn’t quite believe she was his, that he got to see her like this – especially with how hostile she’d been when they first met, but it was that fiery personality that’d only made him want her more.

“Where’re you going?” she mumbled, stirring as Gator stood, adjusting his cargo pants and snug black t-shirt.

“Gotta head to work,” he murmured, leaning in to kiss the top of her head and she groaned, her lip pushing out in a pout.

“Do you have to?” she whined, her voice still heavy with sleep. “Can’t you take the night off, since you’re injured?”

Gator frowned, he wished he could simply stay home with her, but he knew if he did, Roy wouldn’t be pleased and he didn’t want to look like a pussy that needed to be babied.

“I’m fine, ‘sides, I have a responsibility,” he insisted before softening once more. “I’ll text you later,” he said, stealing one more kiss before shrugging on his tactical vest and bending to tie up his boots.

“Be safe!” Win called after him, stretching out on the couch and pulling a blanket over her.

Outside, Gator walked to the end of the drive and leaned against Win’s Chevelle to wait for Deputy Nugent to come pick him up. Bringing his vape to his lips, he took a long drag, savouring the sweet taste on his tongue before blowing the vapour out, the white cloud hanging in the cool evening air for a moment before dissipating.

Soon Gator’d need to start wearing his cold weather gear. The forecast for Halloween said snow, only a few days away.

Gator wriggled his fingers under the cast and grimaced, his jaw clenching at the pang of pain that raced up his arm and soon returned to a dull ache. He took another drag off his vape, hoping the nicotine would dull his nerves. Now that he didn’t have Win distracting him his thoughts returned to Ole Munch, the fucker who’d busted his wrist and gotten away. For a moment he wondered where the skirt wearing freak would have gone. Hopefully, into the wind and out of their hair, but he fought the urge to look over his shoulder, worry prickling in his gut that the strange man might come for revenge.

If he was smart, he’d move on.

It stung, the fact that he’d managed to turn the tables on him so easily, and Gator still couldn’t banish the memory of his dad’s expression as he stood over him, Gator holding his useless arm to his chest, tears streaming down his face and the contents of his stomach still coming up–disgusted, but not surprised.

If he ever got his hands on Munch, he’d make the man wish he’d never been born.

Nugent’s police truck pulling up to the curb in front of him tore Gator from his thoughts and he pocketed his vape and pushed off Win’s car to climb in the passenger seat.

“Where’s your cruiser?” the other deputy asked, and Gator glowered at him, awkwardly buckling his seat belt.

“At home. Win picked me up from the hospital,” he explained with a grunt and Nugent nodded, his eyes falling to Gator’s cast. Noticing Win’s doodles, he let out an amused snort.

“Property of Win, huh? Jesus, Gator, you’re so fuckin’ whipped.”

Gator’s brows pinched and he fought the urge to hide his cast. “No I ain’t, shut the fuck up,” he huffed, adjusting the brim of his hat and scooting down further in his seat.

“She must be a damn good lay for you to put up with the rest of her,” Nugent chuckled, turning his eyes back to the road.

“I ain’t putting up with her,” Gator muttered sullenly, turning prickly. “You’re just jealous cause she’s hotter than your fiance,” he drawled, earning him a hard look from the other man.

“Careful.”

“You fuckin’ started it,” Gator replied and Nugent didn’t respond, knowing Gator had a point.

“Seriously though, you can’t really be serious ‘bout her, are you? You know Roy’d never allow it.”

Gator tensed, grabbing his vape and taking an angry puff. “Maybe I am, maybe I’m not, but I don’t see how it’s any of your fuckin’ business,” he snapped. “Don’t we got work to do?” he added, hoping to steer the conversation away from his relationship. He didn’t need any more reminders about how his dad felt about Win.

“Someone’s in a mood,” Nugent murmured, his voice tinged with amusement.

“Yeah well, let’s see how cheery you’d be with a busted wrist,” Gator muttered, glancing out the window. “Turn off here, I gotta take a piss,” he said, nodding toward the lone filling station up ahead.

Nugent parked and climbed out as well to top off the tank while Gator headed inside, some asshole nearly hitting his bad arm with the door as he pushed it open. Already in a pissy mood, Gator hastily stepped back out of the way, raising his cast and giving the guy a dirty look before stepping past him and into the convenience store.

Half the building’s front windows had been busted out in a recent shoot out, just the day before, and the gaping holes had been covered with sheets of plywood and plastic til they could be replaced.

Gator glanced around before heading back to the men’s room and stepping up to the urinal, freeing himself to take a leak. The stall closest to the wall had caution tape across the door and Gator peered inside as he zipped his trousers back up, noting the busted toilet where one of the assailants had fallen and cracked open his skull.

Gator wet his lips. He’d been the one to hire the man.

Not that he could really find it in himself to feel all that bad for his fate. No, it was the woman who’d killed him that weighed on his mind.

At one point Gator had thought he’d never see Nadine again, not after she left–disappeared one day, just like his mom, just like she’d swore she’d never do.

Gator left the bathroom and ambled to the drink coolers at the back, picking out a bottle of Mtn Dew and grabbing a bag of spicy jerky on the way to the counter to pay, drumming his fingers impatiently as he waited for his card to go through.

“You got the security tapes from last night?” he asked idly, glancing up toward the camera facing him high up on the wall behind the counter.

The attendant glanced back over his shoulder at where Gator was looking and shook his head. “Nah, I think some other cops took the whole system already.”

Gator nodded, grabbing his snacks. Back in the truck, he leaned back in his seat to wait for Nugent, taking a bite of jerky and washing it down with a swig of pop.

“What the hell’s takin’ ‘im so long?” he muttered under his breath, only to jerk back in alarm when he caught sight of Nugent’s lifeless body on the pavement near the back of the truck, a large hunting knife buried in his chest.

“Oh shit–” Gator swore, hastily reaching for his service pistol as he reluctantly climbed out of the truck, his head on a swivel as he rounded the vehicle–afraid that whoever had killed Nugent was still there, waiting to take him out as well.

Shuffling nervously toward his partner’s body, Gator took a shuddering breath, his stomach turning at the dark growing pool at his feet. Careful not to step in it, he peered down at Nugent and frowned. Pinned to his chest by the knife was a message scrawled on a piece of used cardboard.

You owe me.

Munch.

Gator let out the breath he’d been holding and holstered his gun, instead pulling out his phone. Roy wouldn’t be happy about this, but they needed to get it cleaned up and he couldn’t exactly call it out over the radio.

“Yeah?”

Gator sucked air through his teeth at his dad’s brusque greeting, steeling himself.

“Nugent’s dead. Munch got him.”

There was a long pause, followed by a heavy sigh. “Where are you?”

“The Revere filling station outside of Beulah.”

“Stay there. I’ll be there shortly.”

The line clicked and Gator glanced around. Luckily, the area was pretty well deserted, but he couldn’t leave Nugent’s body just laying there in case anyone saw it. While he waited for Roy to arrive, he set to work hauling Nugent into the truck bed and covering him with a tarp before finding a hose around the side of the building to wash the blood away.

When his father’s truck pulled up, Gator jumped down from the truck cab where he’d been waiting, having pulled around behind the building and mostly out of sight.

“Called you directly. Didn’t want this goin’ out on the wire. Didn’t know what to do with him, so I put him in the back.”

“And where were you?” Roy asked, lifting the tarp covering Nugent’s body.

Gator shifted on his feet, glancing away. “I was drainin’ the snake, two minutes, in and out.”

Roy sighed, dropping the tarp and planting his hands on his hips. “Did you get a look at the tape?”

Gator shook his head. “State cops took the whole system last night on account of the other thing,” he explained before letting out a scoff and copying his father’s posture. “Can you believe this guy? Comin’ back to the scene of the crime? Doin’ that?” he said, gesturing to Nugent’s body. “Talk about big balls.”

“Yeah well, I bet yours shriveled up a little bit on account of him gettin’ the jump on ya… again,” Roy countered, giving Gator a hard look, disappointment radiating off him.

Gator glanced at Roy, realizing he was right before yanking his hat from his head in frustration, smacking against his leg angrily. “Son of a bitch!” he growled, carrying on for a moment before his dad rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed at the outburst.

“Alright, are ya done?”

Gator heaved a breath, his jaw flexing as he fought to wrangle his temper, turning back to his father and slipping his hat back on his head.

“Tell me again where you found this… Munch guy? Is that really his name, Ole Munch?” Roy asked and Gator shrugged, rolling his shoulders uncomfortably.

“He says it… Oola,” he explained. “A-and I didn’t find him, I found his partner.”

“What, the guy with his head in the toilet?”

Gator nodded.

“Alright well… first order of business, we need information. Find out who this guy is. Priors, known accomplices, known hangouts. Then we smoke him loose,” Roy sighed.

“If he comes for us again–”

“Oh believe me, he’s coming. Sleep with your hammer cocked, is my opinion, if you sleep at all,” Roy interrupted, shaking his head before returning to business. “Alright, the truck goes in a ditch, Nugent behind the wheel, report the cause of death as accidental. Then you go to his fiance’s and break the news.”

Gator nodded. “What’re you gunna do?”

“Don’t worry about what I’m gunna do, alright?” Roy grunted, pointing at him. “You’re oh for two here, kid. How do I teach ya to be a winner you keep losin’ all the time?”

At his father’s words, Gator’s face fell. “I swear to God, him versus me, man to man, I’d wipe the floor with him,” he insisted.

Roy snorted. “Yeah right. Like high noon? Yeah, that only happens in the movies, son. Real life, they’ll slit your throat while you waiting for the light to change,” he muttered, clapping Gator on the shoulder before turning away, leaving him to clean up the mess.

As soon as the Sheriff was gone, Gator pulled his phone from his pocket, shooting off a text to Win. As much as he’d wanted to return to her bed after his shift, it seemed he’d have to wait. Besides, if his father was right about Munch coming after them, maybe it was better if he didn’t put Win in harm’s way for the moment.

Win grabbed a clean bar towel to wipe down the counter, only half paying attention to the mostly empty room. It was still pretty early on a weeknight and Frankie’s only really bustled on the weekends.

“Okay, who wants to be the one to tell the creep in the corner to order something or get out?” Lydia asked, pulling Win from her thoughts and she turned to where her friend had glanced moments ago.

Sure enough, sitting alone at a small table in the far corner of the room was a man Win had never seen before, and she knew all the weekday regulars.

“How long has he been there?” Beau asked, leaning through the kitchen pick up window.

“Nearly an hour,” Lydia answered with a frown.

“He’s just been sitting there?”

“Yeah, staring at Win.”

“Wait, what?” Win asked, her head snapping toward the others.

“Yeah, I’m sure. You haven’t noticed?” Lydia murmured. “Do you know him?”

Win turned back toward the stranger, a shiver racing up her back when she found him watching her, his hard gaze unwavering.

“No, never seen him before.”

“Should I call Frankie?” Lydia asked hesitantly, fidgeting nervously and Win sighed, shaking her head.

“It’s okay, I’ll go talk to him, see what the fuck he wants from me.”

“You sure?” Beau asked at the same time Lydia urged her to be careful.

Win nodded to her friends as she rounded the bar and made her way toward the man’s table. Heading closer, she got a better look at him, tucking the details away in case she’d need to recount them to the police later–though he seemed placid enough for the moment.

As she approached, the man’s eyes narrowed, regarding her stoically, his weathered face giving nothing away.

“Hey,” she called, planting her hands on her hips as she stopped several paces in front of him. “I’m gunna hafta ask you to order something, or you’ll hafta leave.”

The man barely reacted, his large mouth twitching downward as his gnarled hands balled into fists atop his knees. Win noticed beneath his fur lined coat, he seemed to be wearing a pleated wool kilt with leggings and heavy leather boots–not something many locals would wear–and his hair was an unusual cut.

“C’mon man, don’t make this hard on me. I don’t really wanna hafta call the cops,” Win said, holding her breath, ready to jump back if need be, but the man merely nodded slowly, ducking his head, and Win had to stifle a gasp at the large gash sliced through his ear.

“A man can drink,” he finally spoke, a strange cadence to his heavily accented speech.

“Good,” Win sighed, letting out the breath she’d been holding. “What should I bring you?”

The man seemed to think for a moment. “ A man will drink… whatever is cheapest.”

Win huffed in amusement. “I’ll be right back.”

“What’d he say?” Lydia asked as soon as Win returned to the bar, pulling out a bottle of Natty Lite and popping off the cap.

“He ordered the cheapest beer,” she laughed, wiping down the bottle with the towel draped over her shoulder. “Guess he doesn’t want any trouble. Kinda weird though,” she mused, but Lydia frowned, looking doubtful.

“But then why’s he been staring at you? I still say he’s creepy.”

“Maybe he’s got a crush,” Beau laughed, and Win swatted at his head before heading back to the man’s table with his drink.

“Here you go,” she said, holding it out for him. For a long moment, he merely stared at it before accepting it, holding the bottle awkwardly as if he didn’t quite know what to do with it.

Win watched him for a moment before turning to head back to the bar, shaking her head as she went, but she only made it a few steps before turning back to him, unable to curb her curiosity any longer.

“You’re not from around here, are you?”

The man lifted his gaze to her face, studying her for a second before answering.

“A man is… far from his home. He has not seen it in many… decades.”

Win nodded slowly.

“I feel that, though I think you’re a little farther from home than I am, mister,” she murmured, planting her hands on her hips. “You in town for a while, or just passing through?”

Again, the man deliberated his words carefully before answering. “A man must stay… longer than he intended. Circumstances outside of his control have… waylaid him. Complications he did not foresee. Complications that must be… dealt with before he can move on.”

Win nodded. She didn’t quite understand the stranger’s cryptic answer, but she got the jist of it. “Kinda sounds like how I ended up here,” she murmured, noticing he hadn’t yet taken a drink.

“Can I ask you something?” she said, wetting her lips, and the man tilted his head as if listening, waiting for her question.

“You got a name? You keep referring to yourself in the third person.”

The man’s lips twitched downward. “A man’s name is irrelevant,” he muttered sharply, studying Win before heaving a breath, his expression softening. “But perhaps… a girl could know it. Long before a man arrived on this soil, he was called Oola, Oola Moonk,” he answered, a preciseness to the way he formed the words and Win nodded.

“Alright then, Oola. Can you tell me why you’ve been staring at me since you came in?”

At Win’s question, Munch hesitated, glancing down at the bottle clasped between his hands.

“One learns many things by observing. A man needed to observe. To learn,” he explained and Win’s brows furrowed.

“And what were you hoping to learn?” she asked, an edge creeping into her voice.

Munch shook his head. “A girl is not what a man expected,” he mumbled, more to himself than her.

“What did you expect?” Win scoffed, but Munch merely stood, looming over her as he set his untouched drink on the table along with a couple crumpled bills.

“The man bids the girl goodnight,” he said, stepping around her and heading to the exit, pulling a cigarette out of his pocket and bringing it to his lips.

“The fuck was that about?” Win muttered as she watched him disappear, more confused than ever. Grabbing the beer, she brought it to her lips, so as not to let it go to waste when her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

🐊🖤: You off soon?

‘Yeah, in ten, everything okay?’ she responded, a spike of worry flaring in her chest.

🐊🖤: Shitty day. Need to let off some steam. You game? ⛓️

Win let out the breath she’d been holding at his response, and her lips twitched as she typed a reply.

“Bring it on.”

“Open up, police!”

Gator’s hard voice echoed through the door, followed by his telltale pounding and Win took her time heading to the door, splashing some water on her face at the kitchen sink before answering.

“What seems to be the problem, Deputy?” she asked as she opened the door a crack, her breath catching at the sight of Gator’s face, a fierceness to his gaze that gripped her, holding her in place.

Gator didn’t answer, instead forcing the door open and pushing his way inside before kicking it shut behind him.

“There’s a warrant out for your arrest, Lewis, and I’ve been authorized to use any force necessary,” he drawled, his hands resting on his hips as he looked her up and down, his gaze taking in her bare legs and oversized t-shirt that hung from her frame, and he wet his lips, his eyes finding hers.

“Now, are you gunna come quietly, or you gunna make us do this the hard way?” he asked and Win swallowed, arousal flooding her at the arrogant tone of his voice.

“What do you think?” she countered, taking off in the opposite direction, toward the kitchen.

“I love a good chase,” Gator growled, easily overtaking her and forcing her against the wall, pulling his handcuffs from his belt to cinch around her wrists, trapped behind her back.

“Fuck you, pig,” Win hissed, spitting in his face as he turned her around, and Gator’s lips twitched downward, scowling as he wiped the glob of saliva from his cheek.

“Feisty, huh? I like that,” he grunted, his gaze trailing her defiant expression. “Didn’t your daddy teach ya any manners?” he drawled, lip curling into a sneer. When Win didn’t respond, he pressed her tighter against the wall, one large hand circling her throat, the tip of his nose brushing the shell of her ear as he leaned in. “Guess I’ll have to.”

Moments later, Gator’s lips crashed into hers, tongue forcing its way into her mouth and she kissed him back just as hard, stealing his breath before biting down on his tongue.

“Ow! Fuckin’ bitch—“ he hissed, jerking back. “You’re just askin’ for it, ain’tcha?”

For a moment, however, Gator hesitated, his grasp loosening around her neck and he swallowed, his lips parting as worry flashed in his eyes.

Noticing the way his expression faltered, Win locked eyes with him. “Green,” she breathed hoarsely, her breath shaking. “Keep going. Use me, Gator.”

A groan caught in his throat at her words, his cock growing impossibly harder. Picking her up and tossing her over his shoulder, he carried her to the bedroom and dropped her unceremoniously to the bed, grabbing her legs and pulling her roughly toward the edge.

“Think you’re a little overdressed for what I’m gunna do to you,” he drawled, pulling his pocket knife from his tactical vest before shrugging it off and letting it fall to the floor with a soft thud.

Flipping open the knife, he knelt atop the bed, one knee between Win’s legs, and as soon as she saw the blade, a small gasp left her throat and she began to struggle, fruitlessly trying to scoot away from him, but Gator merely clicked his tongue and leaned over her, bringing the knife up to her face and running the dull edge down her cheek.

“Quit squirmin’, unless you want me to cut you,” he chuckled darkly, the knife hovering over her skin as it moved down the line of her throat to her collarbone. Pushing her shirt up, Gator groaned, finding her tits bare beneath, and he pressed the flat side of the blade to her nipple, watching it harden against the cool metal.

Wetting his lips, he moved to her other breast, tracing her hardened bud with the knife before leaning over her to take it into his mouth, his tongue echoing the blade’s path before flicking against her, playing with the piercing that adorned her pert nipple.

“Hope you’re not too attached to this underwear,” he grunted, dragging the knife down her stomach, past her navel, and catching on the edge of her panties.

“Fuck you—“ Win hissed, but Gator’s teeth flashed in the darkness, sending a shiver through her.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to,” he drawled, and with a yank of the knife, he cut through the fabric covering her cunt, pausing to marvel at it before folding the knife up and slipping it in his pocket.

Drawing his bottom lip between his teeth, he spread her folds with his fingers before pushing them into her, scissoring them inside her tight heat.

“Look how fuckin’ wet you are,” Gator said with a sneer, pulling his hand away to show her his fingers, shining with the residue of her slick, a translucent string connecting his digits as he parted them. “Such a dirty little thing, gettin’ turned on by that,” he taunted, holding his fingers in front of her face.

“Suck ‘em clean, whore,” he instructed.

When Win didn’t obey, his dark eyes flashed, and without warning he brought his palm down against her pussy with a sharp slap, making her gasp, her body jumping at the shock.

“I said, suck,” he repeated and this time she dutifully opened her mouth, wrapping her lips around his fingers and hollowing out her cheeks to suck, a whimper echoing in her throat.

“That’s more like it,” Gator growled, his hands going to her waist, flipping her suddenly, so she was on her knees, her cheek pressed into the blankets. Leaning over her, he reached into his pocket once more and Win wondered if he was getting the knife back out, until she heard the cuffs unlatch and she knew what Gator wanted to do.

“Thought I should get a chance to cuff you to the bed, sweetheart,” he chuckled, yanking her arms above her head to string the handcuff chain between the bars of her headboard before closing the cool mental back around her wrist, locking her in place so she couldn’t get away.

“Such a pretty fuckin’ sight,” he breathed, slapping her exposed ass with his good hand, his palm connecting with a loud crack, leaving her skin stinging.

Win let out a cry, giving a jolt, her hands clenching around the bars she was restrained against. Behind her, Gator hastily unbuckled his belt and unzipped his cargo pants, freeing his throbbing cock and giving it a couple quick strokes before bullying his tip between her dripping folds. For a moment, he pressed into her slowly, his breath hitching as he watched her suck him in, her velveteen walls contracting tightly around him as he disappeared inch by inch into her tight heat.

Growing impatient, Gator made several shallow thrusts before snapping the rest of the way into her, barely giving her time to fully adjust to his size, and forcing another sharp gasp from her lips.

“Oh c’mon, you can take it, bitch,” he grunted, smirking at the way her body jerked with each rough thrust, the slap of skin on skin and the lewd squelch of her cunt filling the room, competing only with Gator’s heavy breaths and Win’s whimpered moans, until the bed began to thump rhythmically against the wall.

“That’s it,” he growled, his good hand tangling in her hair, yanking her head back as his fingers dug into the fat of her hip, his cast making it awkward to hold onto her as he rammed into her, her tits jiggling with each rut of his hips. “So fuckin’ tight. Whose cunt is this?”

“Y-yours,” Win gasped, her eyes rolling up into her head as Gator’s cock dragged against her g-spot, sending electricity coursing through her, her pleasure building til her head swam, forcing any other thought from her mind.

“That’s fuckin’ right, babe,” he hissed, growing close, his thrusts turning jerky and desperate.

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip, he fought not to cum before he felt Win tense, clenching impossibly tighter around him, her body nearly giving out beneath her as she cried out, Gator’s hold on her and the handcuffs the only thing keeping her upright before he finally emptied himself inside her, going rigid before collapsing over her.

For a long moment, Gator didn’t move, his forehead pressed between Win’s shoulder blades, his breaths coming in heavy pants as he calmed himself, his cock softening inside her.

“Gator? Can you… uncuff me? I can’t feel my hands,” she groaned and he gave a start, quickly straightening and pulling out of her, only allowing himself a second to marvel at the way his spend seeped lazily from her fluttering hole.

“I gotcha,” he mumbled, shoving his hand in his pocket to retrieve the key and unlocking the cuffs, loosening them from her bruised wrists.

As soon as she was free, Win let out a soft sob and collapsed to the bed, the sound wrenching at Gator’s heart.

“Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” he exclaimed, hovering anxiously, not really knowing what to do.

“I’m fine, just a little sore,” Win assured him, her voice cracking. “Can you… can you hold me?” she asked, lifting her face to look at him, a vulnerability to her that made Gator want nothing more than to protect her.

“Course, just a sec,” he breathed, hurriedly undressing the rest of the way and crawling atop the bed to pull her into his arms, his chest aching as she instinctively buried her face in the crook of his neck. Pressing his lips to the top of her head, Gator rubbed her back, coaxing her tense muscles to relax.

“Did something happen?” Win murmured, her voice muffled somewhat by the way she nuzzled against him and Gator tensed at the question.

“What do you mean?”

Win shifted, lifting her face to look at him. “I mean, not that I’m complaining, but did something happen to spur this on?” she asked, burying her fingers in the thick dark patch of hair on his chest.

“Oh,” Gator breathed, shaking his head as a heavy sigh rattled through him and his hold on her tightened as he thought of a way to word what had happened the night before without making her worry further. “I uh, I fucked up at work, disappointed Dad,” he mumbled, his stomach dropping as Roy’s words replayed through his head.

“How do I teach ya to be a winner, you keep losin’ all the time?” he repeated with a scowl.

“The fuck does he know?” Win scoffed, prickling with anger as she pushed herself up to look Gator in the eye.

“You’re a winner,” she breathed, her lips pressing to his jaw before moving to his cheek. “You’re my winner,” she echoed, kissing the shell of his ear.

“You’re my fuckin’ winner,” she whispered fiercely before her mouth found his and Gator let out a groan.

“Winnie—“

She hummed, continuing to press soft kisses to his face and neck.

“How are you so perfect?”

Win finally pulled back, resting her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m not.”

Gator shook his head, looking down at her. “You are to me.”

“Maybe you just deserve to be treated better than you have been,” she said, stroking his cheek as she laid back down, resting her face against his shoulder.

“Yeah, maybe,” Gator murmured, growing quiet.

After several minutes Win began to wonder if he’d already drifted off, silence filling her bedroom until he suddenly spoke, shifting beneath her.

“Why’d you leave Chicago?”

Win sighed. She’d been waiting for him to bring it up ever since their dinner at the ranch.

“Too many memories,” she murmured, shutting her eyes and trying to focus only on him – the beat of his heart beneath her ear, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath he took, the warmth of his skin against hers.

“Bad memories?”

Win shook her head, breathing deep. “Some bad, but mostly good memories turned bitter,” she explained.

“What happened?” Gator asked, the fingers of his good hand tracing idle shapes against her back.

“My mom died when I was fourteen, and about six months later my dad was already engaged to someone else. I don’t know for sure, but I think he must have been having an affair with her while my mom was dying,” Win murmured, wincing at the thought.

“So when they got married, we moved into her house and as soon as we got there, she dropped any pretense that she wanted anything to do with me, and her daughter, Delilah, treated me like absolute shit. It was like she took joy in going out of her way to hurt me. It was a fucking cliche, like right out of some stupid fucking fairy tale,” she scoffed, brows furrowing at the memory.

“And the worst part was, half the time my dad was fucking clueless to it and the other half, he didn’t have the balls to actually stand up for me. So, when I turned eighteen, I left–moved in with some friends, couch surfed sometimes, had some bad relationships I stayed in even when I shoulda got out, all to stay out of that fucking house,” she explained, deflating, her voice wavering.

“So, uhm, now all those good memories I had with my mom and even my dad before she died, they’re all overshadowed by that bullshit,” she finished, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a shuddering breath.

Gator frowned, squeezing Win tighter to his side. “I’ll arrest ‘em if you want. All three of ‘em,” he offered, half serious, but it made Win smile, wrinkling her nose in amusement.

“I think that’s a little out of your jurisdiction, Deputy,” she teased, propping her chin against his chest, her eyes finding his.

“Hey, I’m the law, remember, sweetheart?” he said, his lips twisting in a lazy smirk.

“How could I forget?” Win chuckled, her chest feeling lighter. “Okay, now it’s your turn,” she said, scooting closer, her forehead resting against Gator’s stubbled cheek.

“My turn for what?” he asked, his voice growing heavy with exhaustion.

“To tell me something,” she answered, tracing the dip of his collarbone.

“What kind of something? Like a secret?”

“Mhmm,” Win hummed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“A secret, huh?” Gator mused, thinking. “Okay, I’ve got one. You know that time you blew me to get out of a ticket?” he asked and Win frowned hesitantly.

“Uh huh–” she breathed.

“Well, I may have fibbed a little about turning my dash cam off,” he admitted, bracing himself.

Win’s mouth fell open and she pushed herself upright. “Gator!” she yelped, gaping at him. “You fuckin’ liar!” she gasped, swatting at his chest, though she didn’t know why she was surprised.

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself!” he exclaimed, holding up his hands against her half hearted attack, trying not to laugh at the scandalized expression on her face.

“Please at least tell me no one else has seen it!”

“Just me, I swear!” Gator insisted. “I have the only copy,” he assured her, and Win calmed somewhat, though she wasn’t exactly mad at him.

“You better not be lying this time, Tillman,” she huffed, jabbing a finger in his face.

“Cross my heart,” he replied, making an X motion over his chest and Win rolled her eyes, though a small smile played at her lips.

“You jerk off to it?” she asked, letting him pull her back down to the bed with him.

“More times than I can count. I love seein’ you on your knees for me,” he drawled, grinning smugly when a thought occurred to him. “Did you enjoy it? That first time?” he asked, sobering slightly, and Win hid her face against his chest, feeling warm.

“I might’ve,” she admitted, clearing her throat. “I thought you were a prick back then, but I couldn’t exactly deny you had a nice cock.”

Gator beamed at her praise, his smirk returning as Win settled into his arms, stifling a yawn that set Gator’s jaw cracking as well.

“I didn’t get to ask earlier, but how was your day?” he asked through his yawn, curling around her.

Win hummed as she thought back over what had happened, fighting the haze of exhaustion that tugged at her.

“Mmm, it was alright, nothing too special, oh wait–” she said, remembering the strange man that had come into the bar, Moonk.

“There was this weird guy at work, though–foreign or something–wore a kilt and talked in the third person,” she murmured, not noticing Gator tense beside her.

“He say anything to you?” Gator demanded and the edge to his question finally alerted Win that something was off.

“I mean, a little. It was like he was speaking in riddles though, it didn’t really make a lot of sense. Mostly he just stared at me across the room–”

“Win, if he ever comes in again, or you see him somewhere, you need to call to me right away, and stay the fuck away from him,” Gator exclaimed, cutting her off and it was Win’s turn to tense, the alarm in Gator’s voice chilling her.

“You know him? Is he dangerous?” she asked and Gator grimaced, realizing he’d have to tell her more than he wanted to.

“He… he’s wanted for… home invasion, kidnapping, and assault,” he listed, trying not to stray too far from the truth, but also not wanting to alarm Win any further, or reveal how he really knew Munch.

“Oh shit,” Win breathed. “I bet that’s how he got that gash in his ear,” she mused.

“Just promise me you’ll call me if you see him again,” Gator repeated, unconsciously holding her tighter, as if that were enough to protect her.

“I promise,” Win assured him, squeezing him back, though she couldn’t help but feel there was something he wasn’t telling her.

“Good,” Gator breathed, burying his face in her hair.

Cause if he touches you, he’s a dead man.

⇾ taglist. @sailorskunk, @heartbreak-sandwich, @super-unpredictable98, @tangerinesteve, @girlwiththerubyslippers, @cycat4077 , @thecreelhouse

#gator tillman #gator tillman x oc #fargo #fargo season 5 #fargo fx #gator tillman fanfiction #oc: win lewis #otp: wingator #fic: don't waste your time on me #joz.fic

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imagines-ahs · 2 days

Text

Chapter Forty-Eight: Bisque.

Summary: Wilhemina Venable felt it was finally time to leave Kineros Robotics and get a job with people who weren’t such morons like Jeff and Mutt. What she didn’t expect, however, was for her new boss to be so damn insufferable. She didn’t expect to fall in love with her, either.

Tag List: @mayfair-fleur @mistysswampmud @paulsonsratched @msvenablx @notmeellaannyy @rwoolfe @golddustdykes @lovingsarah @slut-for-sarah @geinobinarie (message me to be added if interested!)

“Affection memories are the best kind,” Billie’s words came as soft as melted butter. “How old were you?”

I’m not sure I have many of those. “Six.”

“I wish I could have seen young Wilhemina eating cheesecake for the first time.” The corners of Billie Dean’s sparkled lightly. Venable couldn’t help but let out a chuckle as she took another bite.

“Do you have any pictures from when you were young?”

Even though the question seemed a little odd, Billie had learned not to judge. It was safe to say their experiences in life had been very different, even though they shared their fair amount of similarities. She nodded as she took a bite. “I do. Why?”

Wilhemina shrugged. “I’d like to see them… sometime. If that’s alright with you.”

“Of course.” Weird. But it made sense… Billie did want to see younger Venable, too.

Wilhemina nodded slowly as she looked down at her plate. I think I might have a few pictures from school… Granted, she had always hated taking pictures. Brown eyes moved back up to Billie Dean, and a small smile graced Venable’s features as she realized the small amount of cream cheese on Billie’s face. “Your chin,” she said softly.

“Hm?”

“You have cream cheese on your chin.”

“Oh.” Billie let her fork go and reached for a napkin. She chuckled as she wiped her face clean. “Thank you.” Embarrassing.

“Of course.” I can’t believe the nerve of her to look good even with cream cheese on her face.

Carefully taking one last bite, Billie Dean set her plate aside. She licked her lips and made sure no bits were left on her cheeks. Venable still savored the dessert, and so honey eyes watched her. In no time, they were back at the living room with the dishwasher all loaded and running. Purpura sleepily watched them from her spot at the center table.

“That was good,” Billie sat back down at the couch, right beside Wilhemina, whom nodded.

“When did you first find out you had a talent for finding good food?” Venable teased as she leaned back against the couch. Billie Dean let out a small chuckle. Is it safe to feel that comfortable around her? That was a constant doubt in her mind.

“I think it’s a talent only for you.” She reached for one of Venable’s legs, hand resting on her knee and caressing it on top of the pants.

Wilhemina smiled to herself. Floratta Blue permeated her house in comforting tones of coral. “If you say so…”

“Mhm.” Leaning closer, Billie kissed Wilhemina’s cheek before resting back on the couch.

With the corners of her eyes sparkling lightly, Venable turned her head to stare at Billie Dean. The caresses on her leg no longer felt foreign. Such a short time… Things with Emma had taken so long so develop to whatever it had been. How was any of that even happening with Billie? “Will you help me set my iPad?”

“Of course.”

Afternoon dawned and night arrived pretty fast. Shades of orange invaded the living room as Billie Dean was just done helping Wilhemina set everything, and then Venable got up to turn the light on. The iPad now lay charging on the corner table, already with the purple case on and a few apps installed. Honey eyes watched as Wilhemina caressed Purpura on her way back to the couch, and as she was about to comment on her trousers, her phone began to ring from her purse. Brown eyes moved to hers. Billie Dean bit her lower lip and wished the name on the screen didn’t start with the letter ‘E’—thankfully, it didn’t. “It’s Jenny,” she told Venable before walking to the bathroom, receiving a nod back. Closing the door, Billie quickly picked it up. “Hello?”

“Stop ignoring my texts!” From the other side, Jenny yelled teasingly.

“I’m not!” Billie said with a chuckle. “I just haven’t been around my phone today.”

“Oh! Oh—oh! You’re at her house?!”

Laughing, Billie Dean moved to sit down on the closed toilet lid. “Yes, I am.” Her words were quiet, low.

“Did you spend the night? Oh, of course you did!”

Billie couldn’t help but find Jenny’s excitement funny. “I did, but nothing happened.”

“How come?”

“We’re going slow.”

“Did you make out at least?”

“Jenny!”

“Come on!”

Smiling to herself, Billie Dean nodded on the phone. “Yes…”

“So she does have feelings for you, huh?”

“… yes.”

“Where’s my ‘You told me, Jenny. You’re always right, Jenny. I should give you a raise, Jenny.’?”

“Shut up!” Billie chuckled yet again, hearing as the girl did the same on the other side of the phone. After a moment, she bit her lip. Their laughs died down. “Thank you…”

“You’re welcome,” Jenny’s voice came softly, now. “On a more serious note, is everything alright? Is she treating you well and not like she’s made out of ice?”

Billie Dean shook her head. “She’s the sweetest, Jenny…”

“If you say so.”

“Truly.”

“I believe you.”

Billie licked her lips as she thought. “Was Emma alright? Yesterday, when you dropped her home?”Silence. Billie Dean felt Jenny shifting on the other side of the line. Oh no.

“She was just drunk. Do you really want to talk about her now?”

“She said something about Terry, didn’t she?”

Jenny took a deep breath. Billie gulped. “She said a lot of things…”

“Jenny…”

“Yes. She did talk about Terry.”

“Fuck,” Billie breathed out. Closing her eyes, she reached to massage her temple. “What did she say?”

“I don’t remember exactly—or rather, I didn’t understand it very well— but it was something that had to do with telling Wilhemina about her.” Billie Dean groaned. “She was drunk and very much mad at you, I doubt she’ll do anything,” Jenny tried to amend. It didn’t help much.

“She thinks she knows what happened, and she’s assuming that’s what I am doing with Wilhemina.”

“Yeah…”

“That’s not it, Jenny. Terry wasn’t even fired because of that!” Her voice raised a little. Billie quickly took notice of it and squeezed her eyes shut for a moment.

From the other side, Jenny gulped. “I know, Billie… but you do know that a few people can’t help but make that connection, right?”

Billie Dean took a deep breath. “Yes…” And it fucking sucks. Just another thing people assumed about her life, as if she didn’t have enough of that already.

“Have you told her about it?”

“Wilhemina?”

“Yes.”

“No… not yet.” Honey eyes fell down. Billie sucked on her lower lip. “I think it’s too soon.”

“Billie, it’s either you telling her or her possibly finding it out through Emma… and I really don’t think you’d like the latter.”

“I know,” Billie Dean murmured. “What else did she tell you?”

“She just cried a lot… and called you a bunch of names.”

“Fair,” she murmured again.

“Not really, but we’ll not dwell on that right now.” Billie nodded to herself. “Are you spending the weekend there?”

“Yes.” Taking a deep breath, Billie Dean sat up a little better. “Why?”

“Just asking. The reports about the party should be out on Monday, and we need to approve the pictures for the special.”

“Right. You can ask them to e-mail me the material.” I desperately need a break from working. The end of the year was always hectic for Billie Dean.

“Already did. They’re waiting on an answer until Monday, noon.”

“Perfect. We can do it in the morning, then.”

“Mhm.”

“Do I need to do anything this weekend?” Billie had found Jenny’s question a little odd, so it was always best to ask.

“Not really. I was just curious about you and her,” the girl chuckled.

“Oh.” Chuckling back, Billie got up from the lid. That’s good at least. “I’ll tell you more on Monday.”

“Good. I’ll be waiting excitedly as the reason for all of that to be happening I am.”

“Silly,” Billie Dean teased back. “Alright, I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Alright. Have a good weekend, wink wink.”

“You too, you annoying human.” With both of them laughing, Billie ended the call. She looked up to the mirror and fixed her clothes and hair, eyes glued on herself. She sighed. She’ll think I do that with everybody. Maybe that talk could wait until Monday… or at least until tomorrow. Billie Dean decided she wouldn’t think about it now. At least not for the night. She still had another whole day before the next week, after all.

Quietly stepping out of the bathroom, Billie Dean walked back to the living room; she didn’t find Venable there. “Wilhie?”

“In the bedroom,” Venable called back.

Quietly still, Billie Dean followed that way. As she got to the room, her eyes were graced with the lovely image of Wilhemina, sitting on the bed with Purpura and a tube of lotion by her side. Lavender notes invaded her nostrils. Billie smiled. “Are you moisturizing her?” She remembered Venable had said something about it, once.

Wilhemina nodded. She reached for more of the lotion and gently caressed the cat’s back, which purred lowly. “Winter makes her skin drier.”

“She’s so well behaved.” Carefully, Billie sat down beside Wilhemina. She watched as her hands worked on Purpura, so gentle and caring. And with such long and dainty fingers… not now. Billie Dean licked her lips and looked back up at Venable, watching the way she was so absolutely focused on the cat, with lips curling up and eyes so soft above the sky of freckles there. To be loved by her must be holy. She could only wish to experience that one day. “Can I help?”

Taken positively aback, deep brown eyes met honey ones. “To moisturize her?” Billie nodded. Venable opened a smile. “Of course.” She reached for the lotion and pushed it closer to Billie Dean. “Here. Her chest is missing still.

“Okay.” As gentle as she could, Billie Dean scooped a small amount of lotion on her fingers and began to caress the cat’s chest, right underneath her neck. Purpura purred a little louder, shifting on the mattress to accommodate the hand. Billie smiled, and as she looked up at Wilhemina, their eyes and smile met again. Air seemed scarce all of a sudden. I want to give her the world.

I love her. When had anyone ever treated Purpura like that? When had anyone wanted to be a part of her life like that? How scary? How good? How foreign? “She likes it,” Wilhemina said, voice as soft as melted butter. “She likes you.”

With a tiny chuckle, Billie Dean used all of her strength to take her eyes off of Venable and look back at the cat. “I like her, too.” With her free hand and mindful of her nails, she reached to pet the cat’s head. Purpura leaned against it, eyes closed. Another chuckle left Billie’s lips.

With her teeth trapping her lips in order not to allow them to smile too big, Wilhemina kept on watching them. She pulled her hands away and wiped them on a towel she had taken, cleaning them of the lotion. After a minute or two, she spoke again. “Thank you for being so nice to her…”

“Of course,” Billie Dean’s eyebrows drew closer in confusion. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Venable shrugged. My mind clearly works wrong. “It’s just that… a few people can be mean because of—of how she looks.” Just like they are to me. She nervously licked her lips. “You know… the skin.”

Billie’s frown grew for a second until she understood just how deep the topic actually was. Her eyes reflected nothing but kindness now. “There’s nothing wrong with how she looks, Wilhie… and even if there were, quote on quote, something wrong about her, that wouldn’t be an excuse for people to treat her in any way but kind.” Gulping again, Wilhemina nodded. She took a discrete deep breath and clutched the small purple towel on her lap. Billie Dean took notice of it. She’s nervous. With her own heart picking up slightly in speed, Billie looked down at the cat for a second before looking back up at Venable. Her lips curled up on the corners. “Besides, I think she looks really cute.”

This time, it was Wilhemina who looked away from Billie Dean. Her cheeks tinted softly. The underlying tone of their conversation was very much explicit. “R-really?”

“Oh, yeah.” She knows I’m talking about her. There was no need to point that out. Billie had been learning compliments and words of affirmation were better left in the murky, at least for now. “More than cute, I think she’s beautiful.” Clutching the towel in her hands a little harsher, Venable nodded quietly. She slowly looked back up, and when her eyes met honey ones again, she found a look in them that left her warm all over, sweet all over, comforted all over. Billie Dean’s smile grew lovingly, pouring affection all over. Carefully not to disturb Purpura, Billie scooted closer to Wilhemina, hand reaching to cup one of her cheeks—slowly, so she could ask her to stop if she wanted. She didn’t. Billie Dean’s thumb caressed the plump crimson skin with so much tenderness it nearly hurt. Venable sighed lowly. “You’re beautiful, Wilhemina,” she whispered, voice as soft as a cozy blanket and as sweet as honey. She could feel Venable’s breath against her lips, faster than usual and oh so inviting. So she kissed her, slow and gentle and affectionate.

With blood rushing up to her head, Wilhemina felt her hands trembling against the cloth. She did the best she could and let go of it, reaching to caress Billie’s arm as she kissed her back. Their lips danced slowly and passionately, and for a split second Venable felt herself losing touch with the parts that could be so damn horrible to her. Her lips picked up in intensity, and she subconsciously scooted closer to Billie Dean, too. Purpura meowed from between them, therefore causing the kiss the break. Wilhemina took a deep breath as she stared at Billie’s eyes, lips rosy and tingling deliciously. Billie Dean watched her closely, thumb still tracing Venable’s cheek. I’m terrified things will change. Reality set back in. Wilhemina gulped. “I’m n-not used to that…”

“Compliments?” Venable nodded. I know. Billie smiled sadly. “Any chance I can help you get used to them?”

With her cheeks still red and hot, Wilhemina bit her lower lip. Hesitantly, she nodded. “It might take a while…” It might never happen at all.

With the softest smile she could manage, Billie Dean reached to tuck a lock of red hair behind Venable’s ear. “That’s okay,” she whispered. Billie felt as dark brown eyes fell down to her lips, so she leaned closer and kissed Wilhemina again, which got herself a sweet sigh. Billie Dean pulled away just enough to stare at Venable. “I’m not in a rush.” She had said that already, about many things, but she would never grow tired of easing Wilhemina’s mind.

And yet again, there she was… bare, raw in front of Billie. Vulnerable, and yet she didn’t feel so scared. That’s scary. Would that become something usual for her?

Sunday morning arrived as sweetly as the past night had been; Wilhemina found herself falling asleep tangled in Billie Dean’s arms again, this time receiving kisses on the forehead until she, eventually, allowed sleep to win. When the first ray of sunlight slipped through the curtains, their limbs were still tangled and their skin was still warm from their embrace. It was Venable who opened her eyes first, eyebrows close as she frowned from the light. When her vision wasn’t so blurry anymore, Wilhemina focused on whatever was in front of her—it happened to be Billie, still fast asleep and with her lips inches away from her own. She took a deep breath. I kissed her. Venable licked her own chapped lips, body falling slowly into reality as it got aware of its position: legs tangled with Billie Dean’s, an arm that wasn’t its own wrapped around her waist, feet touching, blonde hair tickling her face. How lovely was it, to not wake up alone? To not always be by herself? Wilhemina took another deep breath, brown oceans examining the face in front of hers. Is she even real? Venable still had her doubts. Billie frowned as a strand of her own hair tickled her face, nose scrunching up. Wilhemina smiled to herself and reached to pull the strand of hair away and behind Billie Dean’s ear. As she pulled her hand away, she couldn’t help but brush her knuckles against Billie’s face, caressing her peachy skin. I shouldn’t be so attached already. How could she not? When that woman treated her and made her feel a way she had never experienced before? Venable watched as Billie Dean began to slowly open her eyes. She smiled sleepily to herself.

Letting out a small sigh, Billie hummed as her vision came into consciousness, body snuggling closer to whatever was providing it warmth. Lavender soon clouded her senses, and so Billie Dean finally fixated on the face in front of her. Her lips mirrored Wilhemina’s sleepy smile. Was she watching me? “Hi,” Billie croaked out, as sweet as she could manage in her state.

“Hello.” Venable’s smile grew as her cheeks began to tint for some reason. Down her legs, she felt as Billie Dean’s foot caressed her own. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

Billie shook her head before hiding her face against the pillow to cover a yawn. Her hand reached for Wilhemina’s waist and pulled her closer. “You didn’t.” She looked back at dark brown eyes. “I wouldn’t have minded if you had, though.”

Venable nodded at the words as spidery fingers slowly moved up to cup Billie Dean’s cheek. Wilhemina just stared at her for a minute before taking a deep breath. “I like waking up next to you,” she whispered. I didn’t know not being alone could ever feel this way.

Coral fingernails scratched softly against the cloth of Venable’s purple pajamas, caressing her waist and the small of her back. Billie Dean leaned closer and kissed her gently on the lips. I hope my breath is tolerable. “I like waking up next to you, too,” she whispered back. Wilhemina stared at her like she was made of all the stars in the universe, eyes shining and all. Billie couldn’t help but pull her even closer, and this time Venable’s hand fell down to her waist and pulled her closer, too. Their bodies left no space between each other, breaths mingling. “I sleep pretty well when I’m with you… you’re warm and you don’t snore,” she teased.

Chuckling lowly, Wilhemina bit her lip to stop her smile from growing too much. “Why, thank you. I could say the same, but your feet are freezing,” she teased back, because being playful didn’t come with a sentence of being punished when it came to Billie Dean.

With a laugh, Billie made sure her feet were well tangled with Venable’s. “I don’t know why they’re so cold.”

Wilhemina hummed. She reached for the hand that caressed her waist and tangled her fingers with Billie Dean’s. “So is your hand.” She caressed the cold digits between her own, trying to warm them up. “Are you cold?”

“Not really.” Billie licked her lips, and part of her heart still melted every time she was reminded of how just how caring Venable was with her. “Are you?”

“No,” Wilhemina shook her head. She let go of Billie Dean’s hand and now caressed her arm, even though Billie had said she wasn’t cold. Billie Dean didn’t mind, not at all. She kept a smile printed on her lips. “Are you hungry?” I should have bought some pastries.

“A little.”

“I can cook us an omelette, or maybe I can go out and get a few pastries, if you’d like. There’s this—“

“Wilhie,” Billie Dean cut Venable gently just as she was about to start lifting the covers to get out of bed. Wilhemina looked at her. “Can we cuddle a little?”

With her cheeks turning purple, Venable nodded. She blinked twice before slowly snuggling closer to Billie again. “Sorry,” she whispered.

Billie Dean shook her head. Hadn’t it been Wilhemina, she could have thought that maybe there was something wrong with her, but being Venable, she knew she was simply eager to please. “You don’t have to apologize,” she whispered back. Her hand found its place on Wilhemina’s waist again, caressing it. She’s always so anxious.

With a nod, brown eyes fell down. Venable took a deep breath. I’m so idiotic. The deprecating voice was already up and running. She gulped and looked back at honey oceans, legs tangling back with Billie’s. After a moment, she spoke again. “I like cuddling with you,” she said, because part of her felt like Billie Dean could maybe be thinking otherwise, and she didn’t want to ever cause Billie Dean to think like that.

She’s worried. Opening a smile, Billie reached to pull a strand of read hair away from Venable’s eyes. “I know, darling. I didn’t think otherwise.”

Darling. Wilhemina didn’t know if her stomach would ever stop turning with the pet name. This is the second time she’s called me that. How delicious did it feel? “Good,” she murmured somewhat shyly.

Billie Dean hummed back, hand caressing her waist slowly, feeling as it rose and fell with Venable’s breathing. She stared at those chocolate eyes in front of her, watching the way they moved away and back to her own. She’s shy. Her lips curled up softly. “Did you dream of anything?”

Wilhemina shook her head, eyes struggling to stay at brown ones. “Not that I remember. Did you?”

Billie Dean had actually had a dream; she saw a woman, hair red just like Venable’s, face full of suffering and with lines well marked. She cried, but couldn’t speak. Wilhemina didn’t need to know that. “Not really.” Venable hummed. Billie licked her lips, eyes tracing the soft freckles on Wilhemina’s cheeks. “I love your freckles,” she said after a second.

To be stared at like that had never felt good… not until Billie Dean. Venable’s skin grew red still, but not from being uncomfortable. “I’m not a huge fan of them…”

What’s new? Wilhemina didn’t seem to be a huge fan of anything that made her who she was. Billie didn’t need to point that out, but she did keep that in mind. “You always cover them, don’t you?” Venable nodded. Billie Dean opened a sad smile. “I love them,” she repeated.

Wilhemina gulped. She nodded again, eyes falling down before going back up. She licked her sudden dry lips. “Thank you.”

Billie couldn’t help but smile a little more. It was clear Venable wasn’t used to being complimented, or having any kind of intimacy with people, but there was something so sweet about it… so strangely pure, in a way. Most people wouldn’t see it that way, but Billie Dean had never been most people. So she leaned closer and placed a small kiss on Wilhemina’s nose, and then another one on her left cheek, and another one on her right one, right on top of the freckles. Wilhemina blinked twice, and with a chuckle Billie Dean kissed her full on the lips, reaching to cup her face.

Sunday went by with nothing but sweet kisses being shared and a movie or two being watched. When the night began to fall down again, Billie Dean hesitantly went back home, but with the promise of seeing each other on Monday morning. Billie knew she should have talked about Terry; knew she should have brought it up before anyone else had the chance, but how could she when Venable looked at her so lovingly and gave her more trust than she had ever given anyone in a long time? Billie Dean simply didn’t have the guts to do it. And she prayed no one would before she could master the courage to do so.

At night, Wilhemina caught herself missing the warmth of another body next to her. Floratta Blue lingered in the air only slightly, and Venable wished she could smell more of it. Fear clouded her senses before sleep could, trying to trick her, trying to scare her. Wilhemina closed her eyes and thought about Billie; about the kiss they shared just before she entered her car and drove home that evening. Nothing would change in the morning. Nothing would change in the week. Right?

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