#I hate how I made his face so don't be shocked if I change it akshksak

[stayingstromboli]

ACADEMIC RIVALS- MATTHEW STURNIOLO X FEM READER

TW: KISSING, SWEARING

SUMMARY: Matt and you have always competed against each other, whether it be sport, grades or friends. However will your secret romantic feelings for each other change your relationship or just make you hate each other more?

A/N- Matt and you are 17 and are in high school (I think- I’m British and our school system is different so sorry if I got the wrong school year). Also this is my first time writing seriously so I hope it’s good.

"Matt let me past."

Me and Matt had never really got along. By really I mean at all. Since middle school he strived to make every waking day a misery for me, going out of his way to annoy me. And in return I made sure do the same to him. Tests, assignments, even in terms of popularity. Everything we did we were endlessly competing to try and one up the other, constantly at each other's throats trying to drag the other down. When did this all start? Nobody could remember anymore. It's just how it's always been. And nobody cared to be the one tobe the first to put and end to these antics and 'lose'.

"Matt move the fuck away, go haunt someone else", I spat at the boy, who stood blocking my path, leaning on the lockers in front of me.

My annoyance was very apparent as I eyed him in disgust, his bright blue eyes meeting my stoney grey eyes. The bell had rung, signaling us to go to our next lesson, the sudden flood of students trapping me, pushing me into my locker, making it impossible for me to get around him.

"Make me", Matt sneers, clearly enjoying himself immensely as he saw the frustration growing on my face.

"Oh I fucking will"

I barge past Matt, shoving him out of my way. Or trying to. He grabbed me by the shoulders and yanked me back, leaning forward as he did so. His grip was firm leaving no room for me to wriggle away. There were inches between us, forcing me to breathe in the musk of his cologne,  strong and spicy, comforting almost. It took every fibre of my being to keep my breathing steady: Matt cannot know that I find him even remotely attractive. I'd never live it down! I prayed with all of my might that it wasn't obvious from my face or body language that I was flustered, desperately hoping that my face was not a bright shade of beetroot.

Matt stood like that for a good few minutes, studying my face with great intent, absorbing my every detail of my facial expression, which didn't exactly help my paranoia, especially when I saw his lips upturn slightly, clearly finding something amusing. My initial attempt at matching his stare with cold, icy one was a complete failure, his beautiful deep blue eyes drowning out any hatred or disdain behind my glare, so in defeat I fixed my eyes firmly on the floor to hide any fondness towards the boy in front of me. Or rather, I tried to. The success rate, however, was questionable. Each breath he took was hot on my neck, the thought of his smirk, his lips, too appetising, inviting me back in.

Fuck this man. How am I supposed to hate him when every attribute that made him so detestable made him so attractive at the same time. Like one of those villains in films that you're supposed to hate but everyone ends up fangirling over instead. The control. The charisma. The charm. Everything drawing you in. There he is towering over me, pinning me to the lockers physically restraining me and here I am losing all composure. He knows what he's doing and he's enjoying watching it happen, and so I have to focus even harder to not give him that satisfaction of winning.

Finally snapping my attention back to the bigger problem at large, I took my chance while he was preoccupied. My foot smashed down onto his, causing Matt to yelp, in what must've been shock rather than pain- we both know that I certainly don't have enough strength to actually hurt him, just enough to cause a minor inconvenience. I quickly turned on my heels and stalked away down the now isolated corridor, which in itself was quite a worrying sign. I made my escape while I still could, but out of my peripheral I could see Matt, trailing after me like a disease.

I pretty much ran to English, anxiety churning away in my stomach as I wondered how late I even was.

"Theres no point going."

Matt's voice startled me, pulling me back from the mess of worries circling my head.

"Excuse me?"

"English class. Theres no point going. He'll only give you detention. Come with me instead."

"Matthew, why the fuck should I trust you? You're the one who got me into this mess in the first place", I reply sharply, not even turning to acknowledge him as I continued at my fast pace.

"What can you not bear missing one lesson? You're either too scared to miss even one small worthless little lesson or you've truly let your hatred towards me and cloud your better judgment. If we show up we'll just get detention, in which you'll have even more with me. Unless of course that was the pla-"

"Don't flatter yourself. Fine, I'll come with you, but only to avoid the embarrassment of everyone turning to look as we enter."

A disgusting smug smile of self satisfaction was plastered across his face as I followed him back down the hallway, making Matt look extremely punchable. Once we finally made it out of school and into the parking lot I followed him to his car, where he gestured for me to get in.

We were physically too close for me to even try and avoid my romantic feelings for him, not even half a meter between us in the front seats of the car. The smell of his cologne was stronger than ever, his hair fluffy and within arms reach, tempting me. The silver chain around his neck made him look even hotter, dangling over his pale blue hoodie which matched his eyes perfectly. My heart was thumping in my chest as my eyes trailed over the boy next to me, almost skipping a beat when I catch the rosy tint spreading across his cheeks while we looked at each other. I could've sworn I saw him glance at my mouth as he licked his lips. Matt? The same Matt that purposefully trips me up or insult me at every given opportunity or get in my way whenever possible. Surely not. They must've just been dry or something. I know him, he wouldn’t.. He couldn’t… And yet this side of the Matt in front of me was completely foreign to me.

He reached out to plug in the aux cable, his hand brushing past mine as he did, causing a sudden a jolt of electricity between us as our skin touched. My eyes immediately shoot up to meet his gaze at this sudden touch, and I feel myself feel hotter under his steady eye. I sat there goggling at his natural beauty, ensuring to remember the look of golden summer sun streaking across his face, shadows forming under his jawline and cheek bones contouring his face perfectly.

His hands meet his way to my cheeks, cupping them, and I melt further and further into him. He inched closer, his breath gently fanning my face. He was so close I could see every mark, scar and freckle on his face. Before I know it, Matt’s lips are smashed against mine, hard and urgent yet soft at the same time. The kiss is hungry, our lips passionately fighting against each other, desperate to feel more of the other’s touch. His tongue explored my mouth, the taste of him mixing with the taste of my cherry chapstick. His hands trail from my cheeks to wrap my waist, fitting perfectly, as if he was made to be with me.

We continued for a while, together a hot mess as we lent across the gear stick, tired from the strain but too desperate to feel each other’s touch to bear to stop. That was, until we were suddenly interrupted by a loud knock on the window and the shocked faces of Chris and Nick.

“Do you guys come up for air? God”

Disgust was written all over Nick’s face, his voice dripping in sarcasm, whereas Chris had a bemused smile playing at his lips. The shock of the noise made us separate immediately, jumping back, almost giving me a heart attack.

Matt just gives them the finger as I shrink back in my seat, nuzzling my head in the crook of his shoulder in embarrassment hoping to disappear. One things for sure: neither of his brothers are going to let us forget this. Ever.

[solmints-messyocdiary]

Regency Era AU doodles!

A little Au @bluecoolr and I made!

Let me introduce you all to Mr. Caruso 👀

Despite his timid and reserved nature, he has quite a hedonistic point of view. Pleasure for the sake of pleasure. However, he's much talk, little action.

He took over his godfather's last name, wishing to sever any type of contact with his family. He was taken under Lord Caruso's wing.

He wishes to marry Ophelia, but her father prohibited the union due to the decadent lifestyle him and his godfather promoted.

Sworn to protect Ophelia... so when he hears of a mysterious, wealthy man searching for her hand in marriage, he just had to know who he was. 👀

[jazjelspen]

my angel baby

(alastor w/ angel daughter reader)

[caution!!: EPISODE 8 & 6 SPOILERS. NOT PROOFREAD]

(notes: alastor joins charlie and vaggie in heaven to convince them about the hazbin hotel. angel reader physically resembles a fawn. )

(right now this is considered a oneshot, unless there is a very high demand for a part 2 I'll happily make another one for funzies!)

(PART 2 IS OUT!!!)

(also apologies if alastor's last name isnt actually altruist LMAo I kinda just wrote it assuming so 😭 )

You made it to heaven, lucky you.

Heaven was surely a treat, you lived your days with the upmost happiness, the light of heaven shining on your skin with kisses as if praising you for your goodness and your sacrifices,

all your sacrifices.

You were currently taking the job over for St. Peter at the gates of heaven for just a few minutes to await for any wondering souls to appear, to help guide them while he came back from a lunch break. Normally they wouldn't allow a human soul like yourself with little experience in this kind of task to take charge of such an important job, but you were close to many of the high ranking angels and you have proved your proficiency in tasks that you set your mind to, so you were glad to help those in need.

You stood there reading through the millions of pages looking over all kinds of names, all seemed like names that you wouldn't normally hear back in your time when you died. Some you liked, others didn't exactly pique your interest much, but the advancement of names since the 1930s surely proved how much times have changed and how quickly time seems to pass in heaven.

You wonder if it is in hell too.

'Hell?..' you wondered as you shook your head and sighed, your mind has been on that place lately and you wondered if it was even worth the rent free space in your mind.

You were currently slouched over the book and decided to close it with a glum look on your face, your elbows now resting on the golden podium and your hands cupping your face.

Geez, and you've been thinking a lot about your old man.

What-- no wait-

You shouldn't call him your old man, let alone your dad, not even father, pops-- not even by his damn name.

Even so, as much as you hated it.. you couldn't help but still use his last name sometimes since it's what you were given when you were first taken in.

Your last name?.. why, you're forgetting already?

_____ Altruist is who you a---

"HELLO??"

You snapped out of your thoughts as your head slipped from under your palms, face planting onto the cover of the enormous book. In embarrassment you snapped your head back up and your wings followed suit, spreading open behind you in shock as your eyes searched for the voice that called out to you from below.

You finally darted down to see three oddly shaped figures, your panicked vision soon relaxing to see two girls and a man dressed in red from tip to toe.

How peculiar.

Your eyes only set on the girl at the moment since she was the one waving at you and basically begging for your attention.

"Hello hello! uh.. Down here!" The girl with long locks of pale yellow hair waved, her smile widening when seeing she's caught your attention.

"Ah- yes yes! Hello hello! Welcome to Heaven! May I.. uh-" you scrambled nervously to open the book in the middle of it, "May I have your name please?"

She nodded, also returning a bit of a shy attitude back "Yes of course! My names Charlie Morningstar!"

Just like that you flicked the pages to go to the names that sounded similar to the girl's, mumbling her name under your breath as your finger traced down each name on the list.. to your dismay you couldn't find it.

"You don't seem to be on the list ma'am.. how weird.. does this usually happen with St. Peter?.." you spoke in concern, mumbling the last part to yourself.

The girl then started to explain something about her dad getting her a meeting, your mind a little clouded still trying to find her name until you heard the forbidden name that no one inside the pearly gates ever attempted to say out loud.

"-- maybe try, Lucifer.. Morning...star-"

And just like that you slammed the book closed, no words coming out of your mouth but an exasperated look of shock freezing your face.

"Oh-hoho... that explains so much--" you gave her a small sheepish smile, awkwardly looking off to the side where your eyes couldn't help but drag themselves to the man dressed in red.

"Miss you don't think.. you could've..." your eyes at first looked at the man's waist, his coat lightly shredded at the ends and the stripes of the long suit guided your eyes upwards "-gotten..." up and up and your eyes met his. The red eyes, the ears, the small horns, the horrific aura, and..

Oh dear, you'd recognize that damned smile anywhere.

"--lost..?" the end of your sentence dragged on, taking a long while to finish since all you could think about is how this man is at the front door step of the place he shouldn't even be considered in being let to enter.

Alastor, your father from the living realm. Not connected by blood but by life and connection.

The man where you got your last name from by being taken in and called his daughter.

The red deer demon seemed to recognize you as well, a spark in his devilish eyes proved it so, but it was very brief since he more or less also seemed to relish the look on your face with his smile stretched further up.. however further up it could get.

Charlie seemed concerned at your reaction, waving her hand in front of your face gently as if to get you out of this trance. "Heyyy... are you okay?.." she asked with genuine worry until all of you were focused away from this bizarre moment when a set of three angels befell before you all. The two seraphims and finally-- St. Peter off from his break.

"_____. We can take it from here, we appreciate the help." The highest and oldest seraphim announced your name and her appreciation while gliding down a bit more earlier than the blonde angel you covered for, she and the younger seraphim's forms going from their true to more human-like appearances.

"_____! My dear friend thank you so much for covering for me, always a real helper you!" St. Peter popped beside you as he praised you while gently flying beside you, you looked up at him with a small nervous smile before opening your own wings to flap down from his podium and let him get back on the job.

"It's no problem at all, you know me! Always.. happy to help.." you spoke your last words to him before your wings gently took you down to set yourself beside another one of your friends, Emily! You never talked much to Sera that wasn't in a formal setting but Emily seemed so easy to get along with. She gave you a tight squeeze of a hug while saying hello which eased your nerves a bit more, of course they never fully disappeared with the man who ruined everything before you let out your last breath.. standing right in front of you.

The man that brought you up here in the first place.

The seraphims introduced themselves to the three residents of hell, the deer demon more quiet until finally finding a spot of silence to jump in and introduce himself as well.

"Why hello, a real pleasure meeting you two quite the pleasure! Never thought I'd ever get to see an angel up this close in my life HAHA! The names Alastor!"

The voice, the radio static over it, his name.

It was him, you recognized it as if you listened to him on the radio just yesterday, your own personal hell.

Whatever reaction or words the higher ranked angels said seemed to fizzle out of your brain as they were replaced with the memories of your last moments on earth.

------------------------------------------------------------------

"Father!" you screamed as you ran up to your childhood home, the home to which you were raised and kept in, your home in which you lived in with your father, Alastor Altruist.

For sometime you had suspected foul play when it came to your father's weird actions when the night came, the tone he spoke through his radio show when announcing several murders happening across and haunting New Orleans. You just didn't want to truly believe that the man that found you, a poor little orphaned baby, and raised you would do such disgusting and diabolical crimes.

You couldn't believe it.. until you finally saw it.

Your legs scrambled and fought each step to become faster, finally reaching the door of your home you slammed it open with a strong kick after jiggling the doorknob didn't work.

You knew the next murder he would commit would happen in your home.. you thanked whatever force that made you disobey him and look through his study since if you didn't you wouldn't know that right now there was blood to be shed.

The door opening and with your kick full of adrenaline and panic it made the door barley cling onto it's hinges. There your father was, on top of a wounded man that seemed to be gurgling and gasping to breathe as the victim attempted to claw at Alastor's grasp. Pieces of glass and wood broken across the entire floor, walls bloodied and worn out, pictures that hung neatly now cracked and lopsided or shattered on the floor.

Whatever happened in here, the victim was sure a fighter in the beginning.

You immediately without hesitation with full force pushed Alastor off the man, pulling the bloodied stranger by his wrist. The victim and you stared for a moment, him mostly realizing that he's being saved by a young girl like you. His lips parted to thank you but you could see Alastor raise his kitchen knife in the air and sprinted toward him to stab him on the back.

With no words left to share or spill you grabbed the stranger by the shoulders and with all your might pushed him and yourself away so that in the end Alastor ended up stabbing nothing but air.

Alastor grunted in frustration, his bloodied smile yet never faltering despite the challenge you now gave him.

The man snapped his head at you, eyes fixated at you before snapping back to his victim and raising his knife up once more, in a haunting motion his steps creeped and creaked towards the injured New Orleans citizen stricken with fear and terror.

Just like that, Alastor slams his knife down with no hesitation. The knife fully in his prey with no inch of the blade uncovered.

Oh-- wait.

That shriek, the sobs, the shaky breathing and the coughs of blood.. that wasn't his victim.

It was you.

His daughter, he stabbed his daughter.

For a moment you could see his crazed smile falter, the humane part of him uncovering itself for a moment, for you.

His little girl was covered in her blood because of him, the little baby he found on that cold rainy day is dying because of him, his bundle of joy that he took years to take care of is leaving him.. and it's all his fault.

He didn't know it was you-- he didn't know you'd be that stupid to sacrifice yourself for some random prick.

He didn't know that in the end, someone as evil as him could have raised someone as selfless as you.

"p..papa..?" you whimpered, your painful coughs of blood spilling out and going down your chin and your neck. "It hurts-- g.. it hurts so much papa.." you cried as the knife in your chest seemed to feel as if it was melting into your skin, becoming one with you. It obviously wasn't but the pain was just that painful.

Alastor's smile faltered and kept trying to stay up, his own set of tears falling down his face and onto your cheeks that were slowly losing life. Regret stabbing his own heart the way he did to yours. He let go of the knife and instead cradled you in his arms, just like how he used to when you would have nightmares as a little girl.

"Shh.. Shh.." he shush you softly as he gently patted your head, moving away any uneven strands of hair he could spot with his hands trembling in regret. "Little one.. don't worry about a thing, papa's here.. " he mumbled, the gentleness replacing what once was pure aggressiveness.

Your eyes slowly started to flutter closed, your pulse slowing down, breathing less profound, your limbs going limp, and your face.. contorting into a peaceful state of slumber.

Alastor watched as you passed in his arms, his faltering smile picking itself up once more to stretch itself across his face with tears pouring out his eyes. This wasn't a smile of joy, it was a smile to hide what he truly felt.. to lie to himself. "My little angel, forgive me please."

Those were his last words to you, words that in the end you couldn't hear.

And that man he tried to kill earlier? He escaped when he was given the chance, Alastor was sure the cops were to invade his home soon.. now there was just one thing left to do before he'd be found once again to pay the consequences.

He took your body to a beautiful forest filled with flower meadows. Alastor knew this was one of your favorite spots as a young girl, why not let you rest here.

Ah but as he was preparing to bury you in your final resting place... that darn deer hunter.

Well, you know the story. Mistaken for a deer, shot, that's the end of Alastor Altruist and his darling daughter, ______ Altruist.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As you stood there you were awoken from your thoughts with the high angels escorting the princess and her other female companion into the gates of heaven, St. Peter welcoming them humbly with one of heaven's popular songs.

You were frozen, in shock. A chill went down your spine as you felt a foreign energy come closer.

You felt long fingers grapple themselves onto your shoulder which made you dramatically turn towards the hand and away from it.

Your father wanted to talk to you.

Your contrasting colors and appearances made this reunitement even more uncomfortable for you, his demon form seeming to match his disgusting self that he hid from the human world before.

His face was hard to read, especially with that signature smile of his that even in death he would never get rid of.

"Little one, my darling daughter.." he spoke, his voice seemingly trying to seem genuine but the radio filter over it made it feel condescending to you.. as if mocking you.

The look on your face was evident, you missed him so much but hated him with your entire being because of that hidden side he kept for years.

He continued "My little ____... out of all places I never thought I'd see you here. Oh but it's definitely much better than down under my little dove.."

Geez what was he even saying?? What were his intentions..?? You couldn't tell.. after all this time, you couldn't forgive this man, this serial killer, this demon, this.. monster. You couldn't.. not this soon anyways.

You took a deep inhale and exhale before fixing your posture and stance, trying to seem more professional and confident. "Sir, your hosts and companions are ahead of you. You wouldn't want to miss your introduction to a place you'll never see again after this day." Your voice stern and professional, trying your best to be void of emotion.

"Darling.. is that truly a way to greet your dear ol' father?" He spoke, hand stretched out while the other held onto his staff.

"Your friends are waiting on you, don't be late Alastor."

Just like that you turned your heel and gave him the cold shoulder, your wings spread and started flapping. Taking you up and away further into your home.. Alastor watched you as you left him once again, this time by choice.

Ah but he knew, he'd have his darling daughter back soon. His little angel that he cared for will forgive him.. he knew you had to.

With his grin widening even further he walked to catch up to the Princess of hell and her partner into the pearly gates, to see what other thing could entertain him while his daughter snapped back to her senses.

(hello!! thank you so much for reading I had a blast with this. as you can tell. once again thank you so much for reading! hope to see you soon! mwa mwa!)

[animehideout]

I need more male readers with jjk characters then gn readers in my opinion gn is not even that good anymore!!

First Kiss With JJK Men X Male! Reader ❤️‍🔥

a/n: Hiii anon!! I'll make sure to make my content more diverse for everyone to enjoy💖, This is my first time writing for male readers so I hope you enjoy these headcanons 🫶🏻.

Warnings: NSFW.

Toji Fushiguro: Kisses you out of jealousy

Don't tease Toji, he gets wild!

Seeing you talk so casually with Gojo Satoru who happened to be his rival, did light the flame of jealousy inside him.

With Gojo touching you constantly, made him burn inside.

Clenching his jaw, his eyes narrowing while witnessing the man he wants and desires more than anything else in this world having fun with Gojo instead of him.

The sound of your laughers echoed in his head, as it felt like a pang inside his chest.

His eyes never left your figure, watching every move you made.

Toji knows how flirtatious Satoru can get, especially when he tries to impress someone or get into their pants.

Toji would curse a lot under his breath, battling his internal conflict and urge to not get physical and start a fight in the bar.

He would grab his cup tightly, till it smashed in his hands.

Toji wasn't sure if you were into guys or not so he didn't want to do anything that he might regret.

But he couldn't take it no more when Gojo leaned in closer to you, while feeling your arm.

“Screw it!”

He strode towards your table, and without any introductions he smashed his lips on yours.

The kiss would take you by surprise and leave Gojo in utter shock.

It didn't take you long to kiss him back. A relief would wash over Toji's heart when you reciprocated.

His lips danced in sync with yours as his big hand cupped your face, pushing his lips more into yours.

He pulled away looking at you, his scarred lips curving into a smirk.

You smiled back, cheeks flushing with a pink tint, completely forgetting about Gojo.

“You can forget about Gojo now, from now on, all what you need is me”

Ryomen Sukuna: Kisses you out of challenge.

Don't test this man's patience!

You had the biggest crush on Sukuna.

But you never dared to confess, scared that he might not be into you.

So instead you tried to get to know his opinion about dating a man.

“Have you been in a relationship before!?” you'd ask.

“Huh? that's so random why'd you ask?”

“Come on, just tell me”

“yea.. I've dated a lot of women before..”

Your heart sank inside you, totally crushing your hopes.

Your face expressions would change but you'd play it cool as much as possible.

“w-what about guys?”

“No” he'd say raising an eyebrow.

“so you haven't kissed a guy before?”

“Why would I, if I didn't date a guy in the first place!”

You felt completely hopeless, especially with Sukuna looking extremely hot in front of you, you just wished you'd link your lips together and kiss till you go breathless.

Sukuna noticed your change in mood, and how your energy drastically dropped.

So you started acting chill and playful, like he didn't just break your heart a few seconds ago.

“Oh are you that scared to make the first move on a guy?” you teased.

He'd roll his eyes, completely hating it when someone tries to provoke him.

“Just admit it Sukuna, you don't have the balls to kiss a man, do you get shy?” you continued.

Without saying anything, he'd grab your neck and forcefully pull you against him. His lips crashed on yours, molding perfectly.

You've always wanted to taste him and today you finally did.

Your parted lips, gave Sukuna the opportunity to slide his long tongue inside your mouth.

Taking your lower lip between his sharp teeth.

“I said I didn't date guys before, I didn't say I'm not into them, .. I'm so into you”.

[netegf]

Hate It When You Leave

pairing: f!reader x rafe cameron

plot: you are trying to cope with the fact that you're hopelessly in love with your best friend. he's trying to cope with the fact that you don't go after the things you want... including him.

warnings: 18+, best friends to lovers trope, use of Y/N, mentions of alcohol and past drug use, non-graphic references to violence, some angst & jealousy, fluff and smut (public sex, teasing, oral female receiving)

word count: 6.5 k

There are parts about wearing your heart on your sleeve that no one ever talks about.

For instance, that it's hard to fix your face when the threads keeping that heart together feel like they're getting tugged, cut, and re-bunched into an ugly knot. 

The water bottle you're holding hardly has any life left. Even Kelce comments as much when he rounds his kitchen island, limbs swinging and loose thanks to the red Solo cup in his hand. He takes one look at the tight smile on your lips and tilts his head to the side, fingers twitching upward to your chin as he turns your head to face him. 

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks, voice a little slurred, but thick with concern.

That was Kelce. Polarizingly good at getting to what someone was hiding underneath. 

But appearances went a long way for him. And he was so agreeable, it made him easy to lie to. Especially when he and Topper had practically begged you to come to this party, his first one since graduating college. Everyone would be there, he'd said.

And he was right, they were. 

"Nothing, Kels, it's just my stomach being a little funny." You tell him with a renewed sense of enthusiasm. You gaze at him warmly and quirk a brow, smiling genuinely. "How do you always know?"

"We've known each other our whole lives!" He barks in a laugh. "There's nothing I don't know about you."

You feel your heart squeeze again, like there's a too-tight belt around it. But you humour him with a sweet giggle and convinced nod, and it's all Kelce needs before he's walking away to mingle with another. 

How shocked he'd be to know that there was something you were hiding. 

You keep the water bottle you're holding close to your body as if it would fall straight out of your hands otherwise. When you watch the brunette seated next to Rafe on the couch squeeze his bicep again, you think it might just fall anyway. 

Some things don't change. 

The sun goes up and down. The moon makes a nightly appearance. Kelce never dresses for the weather. Topper claims everyone else is cheating when he loses. 

You love Rafe Cameron.

"Fucking sucks, doesn't it?" A voice rings next to you.

You slowly turn your head from where you're sitting on the kitchen island to see a familiar face lounging on one of the high-chairs. 

Topper, apparently, had always had an inkling. 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Top." You grumble, casting your eyes away from the blonde protagonist of most of your dreams. Some of your nightmares, too. 

You watch as Topper rolls his eyes without so much as glancing at you, a small scoff escaping his lips. He takes a hearty sip from his cup of brown liquid. Tracking his eye-line, you're unsurprised to find that he's staring wistfully at the very same blonde's sister. 

Sarah Cameron is dancing in the corner of the room with John B., her boyfriend. 

A Pogue at a Kook party... the thought still makes you skeptical.

Not because you didn't like John B., or more accurately, like him for Sarah. But because a few short years ago, all this seemed entirely impossible.

Nonetheless, Sarah was important to all of you. 

And, like she'd said, Rafe listened to you better than he did anyone else.

When you explained to him how smitten his sister was with the boy, and considering how their relationship had endured far past those murmurings of 'young love' to, what was at this point, years together, he'd begun to understand that John B. wasn't going anywhere. 

Much to Topper's devastation. 

He promised he was over her, and he dated like it, too. But there were those moments where he had a few drinks in him and it made you think otherwise. 

"Oh, okay. My fault." Topper replies sarcastically, downing what's left in his cup and finally turning away from the couple he's burning holes through. "I thought we were being honest."

"I am being honest."

He glances at you sharply. 

"Uh huh. Hey, don't freak out, but, your nose is like, growing really long. Never seen anything like it before. It's like in that movie! What's it called, again? Puppet boy? No, that can't be right..."

"Very funny, Topper." You say dryly, but the hint of a smile on your lips sells you out and he chuckles next to you. 

"I was thinking Pinocchio." He fake recalls, nudging your elbow. 

This time, you laugh with your chest, and when you lift your head up to take it all in again, your eyes meet familiar blue ones from across Kelce's living room.

By now, you know how to mediate the warmth that blooms at the base of your spine and consumes you completely. 

There's a comfortable silence between the two of you before Topper starts speaking again. 

"You know he would do anything for you, right?" 

You chew on your bottom lip, still holding eye contact with Rafe who gives you a crooked smile. The girl next to him leans in to whisper something in his ear. He keeps looking at you. 

"Yeah, I know." You mumble half-heartedly. "I just feel like I might need to cut my losses at this point." 

Topper frowns for a moment, then stands up from his seat. 

"Well, you suit yourself." He pinches your cheek affectionately. "Because I, for one, want to crash and burn."

You snort at Topper's words and just as quickly watch him round the kitchen counter to grab another drink. 

Preoccupied with the way he extends that gesture to you, fixing some gross concoction of different sodas for you to sip on, a shiver rolls over your skin when it feels like Rafe's smouldering eyes are still lighting a fire on your face. 

Aron Andersen is a douche, but he means well. 

At least, that's the excuse you aways placate Rafe with when Aron inevitably runs his mouth, the blonde's fists tightening nearly every time in conjunction.

Typically, you opt for the pacifist approach because blood is a bitch to clean, Rafe whines when you clean him up with saline, and frankly, Aron isn't worth it.

But tonight, he seems to enjoy testing your threshold for patience like no one else before him. 

You suppose he's not entirely to blame. Kelce makes his drinks strong, and half of Figure 8 is sucking up all the oxygen in the room.

Maybe that was why Rafe had almost swung on John B. only a few minutes prior, claiming the younger man was feeding his sister lies about him. Perhaps it was just one of those nights. 

Still, you sigh when Aron drunkenly makes his way over to your new spot in the backyard, and press your lips tight together when he shoves a beer in your direction.  

"I'm not drinking tonight, Aron." You tell him plainly. 

Aron haphazardly plops down into the lounge chair next to you with his glossy, red eyes narrowing.

He grudgingly pulls the beer back from you and takes a sip that pools around the sides of his mouth, then drains down his throat slow and loud. 

"That sucks. You're more fun when you do." He scoffs.

Your mouth falls open as the words leave his lips, head spinning to meet his annoyed gaze. The faraway look in his eyes makes you gulp.

In no particular mood to be berated, you have half a mind to scoff back and get up to leave. But there's something about the way he speaks completely unadulterated that keeps your body locked in place.

Like you're dying to know what someone really thinks of you.

"Why not?" He presses, gesturing with his finger accusingly. 

"I'm driving."

He continues to stare at you blankly.

"I'm driving." You reiterate, irritation seeping into your tone. "And drunk driving is illegal, Aron. You do know that, right?"

Unintentionally, your eyes flicker to a slightly rowdy and staggering Topper across the room. Aron zeroes in on that and rolls his eyes emphatically. 

"Now it makes sense. You're taking your boyfriends home." He pitches the word in a scornful taunt, squinting over your shoulder. "Where is Cameron, anyway?"

You feel your heartbeat rage in your chest, tongue numb and mind in disarray. 

"Don't be a dick, Aron. They're my friends." You bristle. But he seems unfazed, lazily quirking an eyebrow. 

"Please don't tell me you're that stupid, Y/N. Friends?" He laughs obnoxiously. "I get you're in love with the guy, but you run around for them like a maid. You ask me, the least you should be getting out of it is a good fuck."

Your fingers twitch at your side as you shoot up from your seat, really and truly considering that pouring his beer over his head might be the best option.

Given that Aron routinely takes up two parking spots to park his Range Rover and cheats on his girlfriends, you think it might be a long time coming. 

His words hurt for more than one reason. Of course, because he'd sooner die than recognize that you very much could maintain a healthy, platonic, and meaningful relationship with your friends of over a decade.

But also because, when it came to Rafe, he was goading you with a kind of intimacy you knew you'd never be able to access. At least not in the way you wanted. 

When a firm hand grips Aron's shoulder strongly and whips his body around, you soon realize you don't have to resort to such a physical display. 

While it was true that Rafe's face didn't make him look particularly kind, he'd only been seriously pissed off, to the point that his stomach felt like caving in on itself, a few times. Like in those months right after he'd graduated high school and felt like a big question mark. Every time his dad looked at him disapprovingly, it affirmed that sinking feeling in him, and he learned that he sometimes articulated his sadness in anger.

These days when he's mad, he mulls the feeling over a few times in the interest of scraping for another feeling underneath. 

Now, though, all Rafe feels when he meets Aron's arrogance with an intensity of his own, is unbridled rage. 

"What the fuck did you just say?"

Rafe speaks at a low register that makes your breath quicken. His movements are a little clumsy, blue eyes slightly glazed over, and his dirty blonde hair kisses his forehead that's speckled with sweat. Cheeks dusted red in that way that you love, more prominent when he's inebriated.

His fingers are still pressing harshly into Aron's shoulder, pressure concentrated and steady if the way he winces is any indication. For a second, his eyes flit over to you and the frown on your face, and they begin to soften. But then Aron is sputtering and stealing his attention and he hates him all over again for it. 

"My bad, bro." Aron offers lamely, hands jutting upward in surrender. He attempts to step away, but Rafe keeps him locked there. 

"Yeah, it's your fucking bad, bro." Rafe sneers.

He roughly shoves Aron backwards as he lets go of him and the man quickly scurries away knowing that if he sticks around, Rafe will probably force him through clenched teeth to apologize to you.

You feel your heart hammering in your chest for a different reason.

Your mind is trapped in a loop, repeating every word you said to Aron over and over again, wondering how incriminating they were, and debating how much exactly Rafe had heard.

And if he had, if he was coherent enough to either dismiss or believe the accusation that you loved him. No, not love, you shudder... in love. Aron had said, verbatim, that you were in love with him. 

"I would've handled it." You mumble with your arms crossed over your chest.

Rafe sighs as he turns his body to face you, rubbing a hand over his jaw, now partially relieved of the tension it was holding. He chews on his bottom lip cautiously, like it'll help break the fall of the words bound to spill out of his mouth, a little too unrestrained in his drunk state for his liking. 

"I know that." He nods slowly. "I just wanted to help to help you... handle it."

He stumbles a little as he moves toward you and you instinctively wrap an arm behind his torso, holding him against your body as a human splint. 

"Plus, I kinda have a reputation going for me. No one's losing their shit if I fight a guy."

"Or two." You say pointedly, thinking about his almost altercation with John B. earlier in the night. 

Rafe buries his head into your shoulder, groaning loudly into the bare skin as it heats up and vibrates. 

"Fuck, not you, too."

He lifts his head up to continue, and you lug his body towards the living room where you spot Topper talking with Kelce and some others. Without speaking, Topper seems to understand what you're saying, nodding then pointing to himself followed by the stairs. 

He'd driven you to Kelce's and you promised to stay sober and drive him back home. But now, it seemed like the plan was going to shift.

Topper would stay the night at Kelce's and take his car back in the morning. You would take Rafe's truck back to his place and walk the rest of the way. You were practically neighbours, anyway. 

"If she wants to talk shit about me to her boyfriend, that's one thing. But him, talking shit about me, to her? What's he trying to do? Turn my own sister against me?" 

"I get it, Rafe. I really do." You nod, an amused smile on your lips as you tug him out of the front door and towards his truck. "But you promised Sarah you'd be nice, remember?"

"I am being nice." He protests with his hands tapping at his chest. "I didn't even fucking touch him."

You scoff lightly as you strap Rafe in his passenger seat, noting the way his eyes begin to flutter shut. Humming softly, you poke a cold finger at his cheek and watch as they blink open again. 

"I'm taking you home, okay?" You murmur gently. 

"No!" He objects, large hand circling your wrist. He rubs his forehead with the other one, trying to remember something. "Got a meeting in the morning. Ward is gonna flip if he thinks I've been out all night fucking around."

You look at him uncertainly, waiting for the thing that you don’t want him to say, but know he will.

"Your house? Please?"

There was a time when sleepovers with Rafe were a common practice. Sometimes, after parties like this, with Kelce and Topper.

Other times when you convinced the boys to binge a new movie or TV series, usually ending with at least two of them falling asleep. Rafe made a habit of grumbling his critiques of the things he watched, but always stayed up with you. 

For a while, when he hit an especially rough patch with his dad and spent more nights than he would've liked getting high out of his mind.

As much as he'd tried not to pull anybody else into it, he found himself seeking comfort in the warmth of your bed. It helped that you always received him with open arms, even when his early morning phone calls were disorienting and he cried silently into your shirt in the hours after. 

Those nights felt so distant, and yet, like you could touch them if you reached out just far enough.

Rafe had girlfriends on and off, and sometimes that version of him felt like a stranger. You felt a strange pity for yourself when you realized that it might've been a good thing. That he was getting better and without falling back on a crutch, even if that crutch was you. Suddenly, him sleeping at your house felt weird and misplaced more than anything else. 

"I don't know, Rafe...," you begin to trail off, but the blue desperation in his eyes makes you reconsider. He's still holding tenderly at your wrist. "Fine. But if you puke on my sheets, you're done. Do you hear me?" 

Whether or not Rafe hears you is unclear, but you take the delirious smile forming on his lips as a non-verbal affirmation. He huffs out a long breath as if he can feel himself finally relaxing. His eyes start to close again, too, as you start his truck and drive the short way to your house. 

"Don't even think about falling asleep on me, Cameron. I am not lugging you up the stairs."

"You're strong." He reasons smoothly, lids still shut as he smirks. "You were about to deck the shit out of Aron Andersen when I found you."

Getting Rafe up to your bedroom goes better than you'd imagined, now with a few years of experience under your belt. 

You get him to sit down on your bed, and he fiddles with the items on your nightstand while you rummage through your armoire for an old pair of his pajamas. He complains when you throw him a pair of sweatpants and a sports t-shirt he used to wear in junior high, claiming that it'd be too tight over his arms and chest.

Plus, he'd added, it was far too hot to be wearing a shirt, anyway. 

"I love these." 

Changing into sweats of your own, you exit the bathroom to find Rafe sitting up in your bed, part of his bare torso obscured by your white sheets. His attention is fixed on a small group of rings on your bedside table, silver and gold hues reflecting under the dull rays of your lamp.

He slowly picks one up.

"Yeah, I'd hope so." You snort, tentatively slipping into bed next to him and painfully aware of the sorry excuse for space between you. "You got them all for me... kook."

Rafe cracks a sleepy smile, rolling his eyes playfully.

"You wouldn't tell me which one you wanted." He shrugs like it's the simplest thing in the world. 

He sets the ring back on the table and switches off your lamp, blanketing the room in a stroke of darkness. Rafe lies on his back and you opt to turn to your side, facing the wall.

Looking at his face only a few inches away from yours, when he's about to sleep in your bed, feels like it will be too much. 

"Asking for what you want is weird, Rafe. Nobody likes it."

You chew on your bottom lip in the dark.

"I do." He says in a scoff that turns into a yawn. "How else is anyone gonna know? People don't usually stop you and beg to find out."

You swallow roughly. That was true enough, they didn't.

But Rafe did. He always did. You revered him for it.

There's a long silence between you and all that echoes against the wood framing of your bed are the heavy and sometimes irregular sounds of your and Rafe's breathing.

Against your better judgement, you think he might've fallen asleep and almost turn around to check. 

"Is it me?" He asks quietly, voice scratchy with exhaustion. "... what you want?"

You feel your shaky breath hitch in your throat. 

"Because if it is... you don't have to ask."

His words linger in the air for as long as it takes your wildly beating hard to calm down.

By the time your body regains some feeling, the sound of Rafe's soft snores pierce the oddly crisp air clouding your room, and the choice to unpack what he said right now, or in the morning, is made for you. 

A shiver runs down from the nape of your neck to the tips of yours toes. 

Rafe is gone by the time you wake up.

The harsh but comforting sound of rain clangs against your roof, and you stretch your limbs to the thought of a cloudy and obscure summer day. 

It's better this way, you think. The absence of Rafe's warmth next to you would feel worse if the sun was shining, teasing. 

Your fingers play underneath your comforter to locate your phone. Scrolling through your notifications, you frown seeing that none of them are from Rafe.

In his defense, it was only about 9AM now, and he'd probably just had enough time to take a quick shower, get himself the smallest bit presentable, and still barely make it to his meeting with a client.

The used bathroom towel in your hamper and flannel pajama pants hastily thrown on his side of the bed are compelling indicators. 

In his defense, he was drunk, and there was no telling if he remembered anything about last night. 

Drowsy proclamations of desire and confession, included. 

You wrestle with the idea of calling him and letting it all spill out.

Kissing him on your front lawn, in the rain, with dewy blades of grass nipping at your feet. Hands threading through his wet hair and tugging, hungrily, because you're starving and happy, and these are liberties you can afford in imagination.  

But you settle on seeing him later tonight, in person. It's your dad's charity after all. 

"I just wish you would have told me earlier." Your disappointed words hang in the air for a few moments as you play with the hem of your silky baby blue dress.

Your father had mentioned to you once before that his new business partner had a son about your age, newly graduated from UC Irvine. 

He hadn't mentioned, though, that this mystery guy would be attending the charity tonight, and he'd offered you up as his own personal tour guide.

Your father hadn't used the word date explicitly, but that's what it felt like when you were handed an odd-smelling bouquet of flowers, standing awkwardly next to the brunette who you were apparently to keep the company of all night, though he might as well have been a stranger. 

Daniel was nice enough.

He complimented your dress and your makeup, smiled and pulled out your chair before you sat down at your assigned table.

But it felt weird accepting praise and chivalry from him when your heart was busy beating erratically at the simple thought that your dress matched Rafe's eyes.  

The venue is extravagant like it always is, what with it's elaborate crystal chandeliers, ice sculptures, and floral center pieces larger than your head. 

At your table, you note your and Daniel's name cards labeling your seats. Next to them, are Topper, Kelce, and Rafe's. There's a sixth seat that has no label and you tilt your head to the side thoughtfully, considering that Topper or Kelce must be bringing a date. 

"This place is incredible. Your dad is so impressive." Daniel says in awe from the seat next to you. His eyes trail around the room, wide in amazement, reflecting back all the vibrant lights in the brown of his pupils.

You smile weakly at him, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear that always seems to take flight despite your attention to detail.

"Yeah, he's really something. Likes to orchestrate a big show. You should see him at the winter ball. Live doves, and everything." 

Daniel nods, moving on to say something that starts to sound unintelligible when something else piques your interest. Someone else. Multiple someones, entering the banquet hall. 

Craning your neck, you make out Topper and Rafe. And a girl. 

No. Topper... and Rafe and a girl. She has her arm tucked around Rafe's as he escorts her in the direction of your table. He's wearing the grey tux you like, the one he wore to Rose's sister's wedding with the ornate thread detailing. His smile makes the two halves of your heart squeeze together. 

"Hey, you okay? You're squeezing that wine glass pretty tight there."

Daniel likely means well, eyeing the way your fist clenches around the stem of the glass you've yet to take a sip from. You shoot him an embarrassed smile and release your straining fingers.

An emotional support water bottle sounds like it would be really nice right now. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little nervous... my dad always gives a speech at these things." You explain.

As the trio begins to approach, you realize it's Shelley Thompson gripping Rafe's arm, a sweet girl you knew from the Kook Academy.

Even now, she always waves when you run into her at the Island Club, and she has a swing on the golf course like no other.

She's a good match for Rafe. You hate to admit it, but it's true.

When Daniel speaks again, you can barely hear him.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about." Daniel chuckles. "I have a hard time imagining that your dad would be bad at anything..."

Topper, having heard the tail-end of your conversation, plunks himself down in the chair across from yours and rubs his forehead tiredly. You shudder at the way he smiles empathetically at you. Like there's something to be consoled about. 

"Hangover?" You ask, shoving the shaky feeling down and shooting him a teasing smirk.

He groans loudly and buries his face in his hands.

"That's the understatement of the year. Feels like I'm getting my skull bashed in." He mutters through the skin, then he peels his head away and grimaces at the screechy music being played. If there was one thing your dad was bad it, it was decent music taste. Topper laughs heartily, shaking his head. "Then again, maybe I am." 

The lightheartedness is interrupted for a moment as Rafe and Shelley pull up to the table, taking their seats accordingly. Rafe rakes his eyes over Daniel for a few seconds, but otherwise stays silent and it makes you frown. You look at him, desperately trying to uncover if he remembers any details from last night, but his expression is unreadable.

Shelley, on the other hand, grins at you enthusiastically and starts to chat with you about the time she interned at your dad's company. 

You find yourself glancing at Rafe every so often, each time catching him staring blankly ahead or at his lap, and always fidgeting with his fingers. 

"Who's this?" He asks suddenly, nodding his head at the man next to you. 

"Oh." You swallow. "This is Daniel."

Finding that insufficient, Daniel takes it as an opportunity to formally introduce himself. 

"That's me." Daniel waves sheepishly, gently squeezing your shoulder with his other hand. "Y/N's been showing me around. Well, her and her dad. I really love what Mr. Y/L/N's been doing with his company. He does some incredible work out here. It's not often that you see-,"

Topper snickers when he cuts him off. 

"Maybe he should've been your date."

Daniel laughs it off, blushing slightly and concealing it in a short cough. But you kick Topper under the table in retaliation, ignoring the way he holds his shin and groans out a soft "Ow!". 

After that, Shelley, Topper, and Daniel divulge into conversation, shifting from topic to topic and at some points, sharing boisterous laughs together.

Rafe keeps his lips pressed together and his words concise. While you fiddle with your utensils, you feel his eyes on you, igniting heat under your skin. 

He stares at you hard, like he's waiting for you to say something. Begging, even, with the way his forehead tenses and his brow stays quirked.

But you didn't know what to say.

Or maybe you didn't know how to say it. Especially not here. Especially not when he had a date. 

Rafe rolls his eyes and chews on the inside of his cheek, standing from the table abruptly, the movement making the cutlery tremble.

"Hey, I have an idea." He says while tugging on Shelley's hand. "Let's dance."

You watch as Shelley squeals with excitement, jumping from her seat to follow Rafe towards the center of the large room where the music is playing. 

"Couldn't pay me to get closer to that band." Topper mumbles offhandedly. You're sure he's trying to make it sting less, but some pains don't have a perfect antidote. 

Daniel sends you a look, silently asking if you want to join them. 

"Maybe later." You reply quietly. 

Watching Rafe wrap his arm around Shelley's waist, you feel your heart sink slowly into your stomach.

In the middle of Daniel's rambling and Topper's occasional acknowledging hums, you rise from your seat and stumble into the courtyard for some fresh air.

Surely, your heart would keep sinking if you saw any more, and your heels were too tight to fit anything else. 

The courtyard is a beautiful mix of greenery, fairy lights, and concrete statues, but it does little to ease the ache in your chest. You sit on a stone bench and try to control your breathing with your head between your knees. 

Though it's turbulent and shallow at best.

"What's wrong?"

You know it's Rafe without looking up. Sighing into the palms of your hand, you slide them down from your face and lift your head up. Surely, your makeup is smudged, and the thought makes you more miserable.

"Nothing." You say more sharply than you intended. "Nothing's wrong. Just go away, Rafe."

He looks at you completely scandalized. 

"Are you... mad at me?"

You let out a deep breathe, averting your gaze to the ground as you collect yourself. "No, I'm not mad. Why would I be mad?"

Rafe scoffs, entirely unconvinced. He rakes a hand through his hair in frustration. 

"Well, fuck, if this is 'not mad', then I don't want to see what mad looks like." 

"Can you just drop it? Please, Rafe? Drop it?" You beg, sniffling slightly as you stand. You hadn't noticed when your cheeks started to get wet. Likely too much in denial.

Despite the way it's honoured you in the past, crying was offering no release at this point. It's not like any of this was Rafe's fault. Even if he had gotten your hopes up last night, he wasn't obligated to act on drunken pillow talk. Maybe he hadn't meant it in the first place and was only trying to make you feel better.

"You won't talk to me." He says sadly.

You bite down on every explanation you want to give him. Chest pain heavy and unrelenting.

"Just... go back to Shelley, Rafe. She's probably waiting for you."

Rafe looks puzzled when the words fall weakly out of your mouth.

Then, he nods, like something finally clicks for him. He meets your eyes with fervor as he presses his lips together.

"So, this is about Shelley?" He asks.

Your head hangs and silence intensifies between you. It speaks for itself.

"The same Shelley that's been fucking Kelce on and off for the past two years?"

He watches your mouth fall open and eyebrows furrow, continuing as you stare at him.

"Kelce promised to take her out on a real date, but then he got caught up at work... asked me to keep Shelley company until he showed up. We didn't come here together, together, Y/N. I thought you knew that." 

Your mind buzzes as he speaks, bottom lip wedged under your teeth.

So, he wasn't here with Shelley. And he probably did remember both what he heard and said last night if he could recognize that you were jealous.

Jealous. It makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The feeling was always two-fold. A person would feel jealous, then humiliated that they had. You don't know which one is worse.

You peak an eye open, chewing through your words. "Why couldn't Topper do it?" 

"Have you met Topper?"

That was a good point. 

Still reeling from the new information, you look down at your lap pensively.

"But you did." Rafe begins after a few beats of silence. When you frown in confusion, he clarifies. "... come here with someone."

You crane your neck up to look at him. There's something you can't place in his eyes, but it's cloudy and all-consuming. His hair is a mess from the way he's been ruffling through it, and his cheeks are flushed and tight.

"What, Daniel? Are you kidding me? I only brought him because my dad ask-," you begin to explain, but Rafe cuts you off. 

"I don’t care why he thinks he can touch you. I just want him to stop.”

Despite the small gust of wind that blows past you both, you feel a warmth at the base of your neck... in the palms of your hands. Maybe it was the beams of light overhead, illuminating your bodies amidst the greenery.

Or, maybe it was just Rafe's words.

The intensity of his gaze. The way he steps towards you as he speaks them, warm hand eventually reaching out to graze over your cheek in a way that makes you gasp in a mixture of shock and excitement. 

For a moment, you think about yourself and the many soul-crushing nights spent watching Rafe talk to and touch and kiss other people, the overlapping visuals making you queasy. 

"I know the feeling." You say quietly, hot breath fanning over his face.

Rafe frowns a little, soaking up the meaning of your words. He nudges his face closer to yours, until your noses are touching and his lips just barely graze over the pair he desperately wants to taste. He draws back suddenly, suspending all the air in your lungs. 

He eyes you cautiously, challenging silently as he licks his lips.

"Not gonna do anything unless you ask." 

You nearly cry out in response. "Rafe, please. I... I want you." Ignoring the way your desperation makes your skin feel tingly and your head spin, you shut your eyes tightly, realizing that only really skimmed the surface. You try again, gulping. "I've always wanted you."

"Fuck." He breathes out, eyes fluttering shut. "Never stop saying that." 

Stifling the sound of another whine from your lips, Rafe kisses you feverishly.

He moves his soft lips in tandem with yours, swallowing each of your breathy moans. One of his hands traces over the swell of your jaw while the other stretches tenderly around your throat. "Know what I wanted to do when I saw you sitting there next to him?" 

You nearly scream in protest when Rafe pulls his lips off yours, but fall silent when he trails kisses down from your jaw to your neck and collarbones, sloppily sucking the skin then laving his tongue over the afflicted areas. Unsatisfied until your pushing his head away from the sensitivity. 

"Wanted to knock his fucking teeth out." He murmurs with his head buried in the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and leaving searing kisses. "But I don't do that shit anymore. So I'll ruin his night a different way."

Rafe moves your body with his until the backs of your knees hit the concrete bench. Your mouth falls open as he sits you down on it, kneeling in front of you. He presses a ticklish kiss to your knee and his bright blue eyes peer up at you through his lashes. When you nod, he parts your thighs and pulls your panties down in a single unbroken movement, committing every second to memory.

He stares longer than he should, groaning at the way your wetness collects on his finger when he traces a finger over your slit, spreading you apart. 

"Can't believe," he moans into your mound, running the flat of his tongue over your center again and again. "... you kept me from this pussy for so long." 

You throw your head back at the sensation, finding nothing but air and Rafe to support you as pulls you closer to his mouth.

"That," you say in a broken moan at the feeling of Rafe's tongue inside you. "That's your fault, remember? I was always here — shit! Waiting for you.”

Rafe hums against your pussy at that, neither agreeing or disagreeing. His nose nudges your clit as he tastes you greedily. You tug at his hair to dissipate some of the energy building inside your core, but it only makes Rafe work harder. 

"Didn't think I deserved you." He admits, pink lips mesmerizing and wet with your slick and his spit. Rafe takes your clit into his mouth and sucks obscenely, the slurping sound sending a flash of heat through you. "Doesn't matter now. I'm good at making up for lost time..."

Your thighs clamp around Rafe's head as he fucks you with his tongue. It's only now, as gasps and high-pitched sounds fall wantonly from your lips that you come to the reality that you're letting Rafe eat you out in the courtyard, and anybody from the party could come here and find you. Still, you moan less controlled than you would have hoped when he suckles at your clit again, drinking at your sopping pussy.

"Hey, have some common decency, huh? There's some very nice people in there trying to enjoy a party." 

Rafe smirks when you pull at his hair even harder, mostly at the thought that you think it could be reprimanding when he likes it so much. His teasing does more to turn you on than you'd care to admit and he can tell with the way you gush around him.

"One of em's your date." He adds, laughing slightly as he curls his tongue inside you. Entranced at the way it makes you whimper and writhe like putty under him. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb at the same time, chasing the crest of your orgasm. "C'mon, baby. Give it to me. Come all over my tongue." 

Your release makes your back rise off of the slab of cement you're seated on, thighs slotted over Rafe's shoulders as he licks you through your climax.

The pleasure is insurmountable, your mouth falling open and your eyes screwing shut as that familiar feeling completely overwhelms your senses, the burn of your elbows against the cement keeping you anchored to the ground. 

Rafe smiles when you pull him by the belt of his dress pants to capture his mouth in a long and sweet kiss. It helps clean up the residual wetness. 

By the time Kelce makes it your father's charity event, he sighs tiredly into the crown of Shelley's head, pressing a wet kiss there in greeting. On his way in, he got trapped in a conversation with your father and some guy he'd never seen before named Daniel who was more inclined to kiss your dad's ass than he was to breathe.

Finally taking his seat next to a very drunk Topper, he squints his eyes at the sight before him. You and Rafe, unable to keep your hands off each other, giggling at nothing in particular. And when not giggling, kissing.

"Are you seeing this shit?" Kelce asks Topper, gesturing towards his two closest friends shoving their tongues down each other's throats. Shamelessly, at that.

"Dude." Topper groans, sighing like this was no surprise to him. "Where the fuck have you been?"

a/n: thank you for reading! comments/reblogs appreciated!!

[lehguru]

Could you do how one piece characters comfort their crying girlfriend?!:D

CRYING + ONE PIECE MEN

zoro, law, luffy and rosinante comforting you while you're crying!!

info: pure fluff!! i tried to not specify why reader was crying, so it could be as broad as possible, also im aware that the quote by pylades is overused but im in love with it leave me alone (/lh), gender neutral — ko-fi

roronoa zoro froze upon seeing you like that. you were taking way too long to get out of your shared room, you said you were "just changing to something warmer" and taking that amount of time to do so concerned him. when he opened the door, you were kneeling on the floor, your face buried on a pillow against the bed; after hearing his footsteps, you felt even more tears come out of your eyes.

your name fell out of his lips in such a soft and gentle tone, you almost thought it wasn't your boyfriend there. "what happened?" he asked, kneeling next to you and placing a hand on top of your head. you looked up at him, your eyelashes and your undereyes completely wet; you blinked at him, processing his question, and immediately started to cry again. you threw yourself into his arms and he held you, hugging you protectively—one of his arms hugged your waist, while the other cradled your head.

you kept on sobbing against him, hearing the way his heart pounded faster in his chest. zoro was quiet, his eye closed and his jaw was visibly clenched—he wished that he could get all the pain you have and put it on himself, he could handle it for you. "hey," he suddenly said, making his chest rumble, "i'll be here when you're ready to talk about it. or don't want to talk about it– i just... i'm here. for you." the awkwardness of his words made you choke out a giggle and you relaxed in his embrace. everything is going to be fine.

trafalgar d.water law didn't expect you to be the one knocking at his office door. it was late, he thought everyone—he hoped that you were too—fast asleep; upon seeing you passing the door, looking at the floor shyly, he immediately thought something was wrong. "are you okay there?" he asked you and your face immediately scrunched up, tears falling from your eyes. while you buried your face in your hands, law got up from his chair, almost dropping it to the floor. in two quick steps, he reached you and hugged you tightly; you hugged him too, your fingers pressing against his back.

"i-i'm sorry for— 'm sorry i bothered you." you managed to say between sobs, feeling the way he played with your hair to calm you down. he kissed the top of your head, so softly it almost made you melt down. "it's not a bother." he whispered, hugging you a bit tighter. "not if it's you."

he held you like that until your crying got better. pulling away slightly, he put his hands on your cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away your tears. he hated to see them and hated himself even more for not being able to stop them from falling at all in the first place. "let's go to bed, yeah? we can talk tomorrow, if you want to." you nodded and he picked you up, making his way to your shared bedroom. if he couldn't stop your tears from falling, he would at least cuddle you and make sure you feel comfortable and protected. make sure that you know he wouldn't let anything bad happen to you.

monkey d.luffy always had the right actions to make you laugh and he made you incredibly happy. that's why it was a shock to him when he saw you crying, alone in the bathroom. it was common for him to come into the bathroom while you were taking a bath, so him opening up the door, saying your name loudly, wasn't a surprise. you tried to wipe away your tears, but it was too late.

"what— are you hurt?" he immediately asked, his usual smile replaced by a frown. he kneeled next to you, one of his hands rested against your cheek, and his eyes scanned your body. you shook your head and tried to smile, but your tears started to flow again. surprising you, luffy got up and left, leaving you alone. even through your soft sobs, you could hear your boyfriend running around the house and it confused you so much, it almost made you forget why you were crying in the first place.

when luffy got back, he picked you up and carried you to the bed, carefully putting the covers over you—his movements were so gentle, it made you smile at the act. once he was satisfied with the little burrito he put you in, he sat down on the bed, his legs crisscrossing. "i don't really know what to do right now, to make you happy again." he spoke up, his big smile back on his face, and petted your head. "and if you don't know either, it's okay. i will just stay here. imma watch out for you and punch away anything that could make you sad." he punched the air and that made you giggle. it didn't take long for you to fall asleep, the comfort of the blankets and tiredness overwhelming you. just like he promised, luffy stayed there until the next morning, sitting next to you.

during your relationship, donquixote rosinante was always good at comforting you. whether it was through words that were exactly what you wanted to hear or through his small clumsy acts, he always managed to comfort you; but it didn't mean that he knew how to act upon seeing you cry.

whenever you cried close to him, he would panic, his heart almost coming out of his mouth as tears of his own started to build up on his eyes. his first instintic was to hug you, but he immediately remember that could make you uncomfortable. breathing in and out, rosinante kneeled in front of you, trying his best to smile and murmur: "is there anything i can do to help you?"

you shook your head, a soft 'i don't know' leaving your lips through a sob, and he hummed. "would cuddling or a hug make you feel lighter?" this time, you nodded and he immediately embraced you, cooing praises and caring words while rubbing circles on your back. he knew that doing just that wouldn't show you the full extent of how much he loves you, how seeing you like that and not knowing why you were crying was like hell to him. if it cheered you up, he would reach inside his chest and give you his heart—it was already yours anyway.

2024 © content belongs to lehguru, do not repost, translate or feed it into ai without permission

[charliedawn]

How would they react if you kissed their scars ?

Vincent had remained with the mask for so long, it had become part of your everyday life.

You had never questioned it...not until you walked into his bedroom one day and found that Vincent had not yet put on his mask.

He hadn't heard you come in—too focused on his latest piece of art.

So, you made sure not to disturb him as you looked at his new 'piece'.

You shivered. You really didn't want to be thinking about the poor guy trapped underneath the wax.

So, you focused back on Vincent instead.

The bad part of his face was not completely facing you, but you could make out the disfigured part he wanted to hide...It broke your heart.

"...Vinny ?"

You called him and Vincent's eyes widened in shock at the sight of you and he hurried to reach for his mask, but you were quicker.

You grabbed the mask and took a couple of steps back.

Vincent didn't understand what you were doing until you placed a soft kiss on the interior of the mask and finally put it back on him.

He let you and his breath hitched as he saw the genuine smile on your face.

"You're very handsome...Don't let the mask fool anyone."

He was stunned.

Truth was, Vincent had worn this mask all his life and had never thought for a second that anyone would call him 'handsome' in his life.

It brought tears to his eyes as he suddenly hugged you and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His new piece of art left unattended as he asked you to kiss that part of his face again and again...his mask slipping off in the process.

But, he was too happy to care.

Now, Jason is the insecurity boy.

He hates that he's tall, hates his face, hates his clumsiness...

But, whenever he would be with you, his insecurities seemed to wither into nothingness.

He still had problems with leaving the mask behind though. People used to call him awful things and even though he had partially healed with time, the pain was still there.

So, when you walked in when he was getting ready—he almost fell backwards and covered his face with his hands.

"LEAVE ! GET BACK !"

He was afraid and screamed when you tried to touch him—only for you to fight against every single survival instinct in your body and hug him tightly.

"...Ssh...It's alright. You don't need to be afraid. I love you. Your face doesn't change that."

Jason was shocked at your words and he gripped the fabric of your shirt tightly to hide his face and not let you see him cry.

He held you like you were his only lifeline, and maybe you were.

Now, Bo is a whole other story.

He doesn't like physical affection.

But, you still wanted to show him that you loved him.

So, as he was working on a car, you asked for a tool. He was so focused on his task, he absent-mindedly obeyed and just gave you one of his tools to keep you happy—not expecting you to take his hand instead.

You stroked the damage skin on his wrist and looked up at Bo who seemed uncharacteristically quiet, no longer focused on the car.

You then pressed your lips to the scars around his wrists and his eyes followed your movement with baited breath.

He suddenly retrieved his hand, as if burnt by the sensation alone.

"What in the carnation do ya think you're doin' ?!"

But you didn't answer.

You only shook your head and grabbed his arm gently to bring it back to your lips.

You peppered it with kisses and Bo licked his dry lips before smiling and closing the gap between the both of you to kiss your forehead.

"...You' really sumthin', ain't ya sugar ?"

In response, you stuck out your tongue cheekily at him and smiled.

However, you didn't expect it when Bo mimicked you and the tip of your tongue touched his.

You took a step back and flushed red as he tipped his hat at you.

"Well, now that we've shared our DNA, I'll go prepare dinner.", he announced before turning away to leave.

"GROSS, BO !", you finally shouted after him—but a small hidden smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

He laughed.

"Yeh yeh. You'll live."

He then hurried out of the house—ignoring the way you tried to call him back.

His own face felt hot and he hurried outside.

~That was dangerous. He almost lost control.

Brahms loved it when you took care of him, he had found a comfortable daily routine with you.

But, of course...You had to become curious.

You waited until he was asleep before slowly creeping into his bedroom to try to remove his mask.

You smiled as you saw his peaceful sleeping face and couldn't resist laying a kiss on his masked cheek.

You then hesitated about your plan. Would he be mad if you took a quick look ?

However, before you could think about it any further, Brahms grabbed your hand and yanked you forward into his arms.

You let out an undignified surprised yelp.

His breath was shallow and you felt so ashamed of having been caught, but he then quickly whispered in your ear.

"Brahms...Likes Y/N...Don't want them to be...afraid..."

Your heart squeezed as you wrapped your arms around him and smiled.

"Brahms has nothing to be afraid of. Y/N will stay with him. Because Y/N loves Brahms."

Brahms' eyes widened at the use of the l-word and his grip on you tightened as he let you take off the mask.

You were speechless for a second and Brahms thought it was because you were horrified and immediately tried to reach for his mask, but you shook your head and threw his mask away.

"...Pretty.", you muttered and kissed his burnt side with tenderness.

His eyes watered and he held you infinitely closer.

He never wanted to let you go.

His mother had called him pretty only once in his life, and he remembered feeling so much happiness from the word alone.

It made him happy and sad at the same time.

Because, it also reminded him of the burns on his face and the fact that his face would never be the same again.

You would never see how pretty he looked back then. You would never see the face he wanted you to see...But, you still found him pretty.

And that made Brahms feel as if you had sown a part of his heart back into place.

Freddy. Freddy doesn't have insecurities. What he does have however is a painful fear of rejection and a huge ego clashing in an eternal battle for dominance.

His ego as the big scary demon and his fear of who he used to be...

He hates his reflection. He would never admit it to you, but you noticed the way he constantly avoided mirrors.

"...Ain't you gonna try to escape ?", he finally asked one day—hiding the true depth of the reason behind the question.

He wanted you to answer yes, so he could completely be overwhelmed by the demon and be done with it.

Freddy used to be a scrawny little nuisance—just good enough for manual work.

He had never been a great scholar, barely made it to high school.

Freddy—the pushover—that's what people used to call him...Well, until he killed them all.

"Nah. Have you seen me running...?", you answered with a small playful grin...But, it didn't work. He frowned and let out a small huff.

"Come on. Don't go all witty on me. Give me a real answer."

You tilted your head quizzically at him. Why the sudden need for an answer ?

He didn't dare look at you in the eye and that's when you understood. Freddy was doing the most Freddy thing.

He was testing you.

He wanted to know if you really stayed because you liked him, or because he was just another mere distraction.

"I'm telling you that I have no intention to run."

You finally told him the truth and Freddy's eyes widened as he crouched in front of you and stared at you—his claws gleaming in the dark.

"Don't you dare lie to me."

"You don't believe me ?"

"Ya just saying stuff...To make me happy.", he muttered under his breath and you gasped at the accusation. That's when you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eyes again.

"I would never lie to you."

You then kissed him on the lips and his eyes widened at the unexpected action.

"...Here. Is it enough proof for you ?", you asked with a knowing grin and Freddy felt stunned for a second before he chuckled.

"~Maybe.", he smirked and then pulled you closer to him. "Gonna have to get more proof. Just to be sure."

You snorted.

"~Of course."

"Say Myers...Can I see you without the mask ?"

His...mask ? What a strange request...

Now, why would you ask that ?

He tilted his head at you—pondering.

His confusion must have shown as you answered his silent question.

"Well...Every time I see you without it, Michael takes over and I'd like to see you without it."

Myers didn't move for a second and you thought you had offended him or something...But, he then decided to trust you and removed the mask.

You were immediately drawn to his two green eyes that seemed to be boring into the depth of your very soul.

He was handsome, even though a few scars here and there from years of surviving.

You raised yourself on your tiptoes and you saw the momentary panic in his eyes.

He wanted to look away or hide away from your gaze—but couldn't. He only kept staring while you continued examining his features.

You looked each other in the eyes and then, an inexplicable impulse took over you.

You kissed his chin and smiled when you felt him holding you a little closer than necessary—his eyes squeezing shut.

It felt...good.

His beard tickled your face, but you didn't mind. You giggled and hugged him back.

Myers wouldn't cry, but he did feel the need to talk—him who usually never did.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"Well ? Aren't you going to return my kiss ?"

You then tapped the side of your face with a small playful smile and Myers couldn't help but smile back.

However, you didn't expect it when he suddenly leaned forward to kiss you on the lips, securing the back of your head with his large hand.

It made you feel safe for a second before he pulled away—all too soon.

He then put back his mask and even though you couldn't see it, you knew he was smiling underneath.

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

Would you be open to writing a Clarisse la rue x fem reader soulmate au

Yes.

Capture The Flag and A Soulmate Mark

Let's get one thing clear, you didn't ask for this.

You didn't ask for something to be wrong with your brain. You didn't ask for a teacher to attack you and your younger brother on a field trip.

You didn't ask for your mother to be taken from you and Percy only to be taken to some camp and told you're a “Half-Blood.”

And you didn't ask for Clarisse La Rue, from the Ares Cabin, who you found out was a god of war, to live up to her father so much.

And you most certainly didn't ask for Clarisse to be looking at you in complete anger and hatred, and to be on the opposing end of her spear.

“Can we talk about this?” you tried to evade the spear, pushing at it with your sword you got from Chiron the best you could, giving your best, nervous smile albeit it, to try and charm your way out of it.

“And why would I do that?” Clarisse asked, seething and your smile only made her appear to be more angry.

Clarisse hated you. Hated your smile. Hated your laugh. Hated your brother, Percy, especially. Hated how you talked to her, how you walked, talked, everything. Especially the feeling in her chest as she looked at you.

“Cause I would like to live-” you tried, making Clarisse glare as she finally knocked the sword out of your hand.

“(Name)!” Percy yelled, almost crawling to you as he finally evaded Clarisse’s siblings as she pushed you closer and closer to the lake.

You glanced at Percy with wide eyes, looking at Clarisse as she got closer, grabbing your arm roughly, so close to you that you could feel her breath as she got in your face.

You felt an electrical shock go down your arm, thinking for a moment it was Clarisse’s spear, only to see her staring at your arm, her spear dropped at her side.

You stared at her face, watching the shock settle in and angry under the surface simmer as she stared at your arm held in her hand, unaffected as campers gathered around, Annabeth with Percy, Chiron afar as he yelled for Clarisse to release you.

Clarisse finally looked back up at you, anger visible, but something else you tried to pin-point.

You tried looking at her hand on your arm, seeing a glimpse of a mark but before you could, Clarisse reacted.

She yelled, pushing you into the lake as you yelped, falling in and submerging in the water for a moment, hearing your brother yell and soon joining you in the water.

“What the- what was that for?!” You asked, coughing as you finally got up, completely soaked as Percy leaned onto your arm, staring at Annabeth in disbelief.

The younger girl only stared back at him, you stared back at Clarisse as she simply regarded you with a face, or more so your arm, full of something you couldn't comprehend.

Percy's fingers went to the cut on his face, feeling the pain simmer to nothing before the ones on his arm disappeared. You looked at your brother in confusion, your own fingers tracing where the cut on your cheek should've been, to feel nothing.

“I don't understand.” Percy tried, shaking his head as Annabeth said nothing, eyes lingering up from you both to above your heads.

You could hear a pin drop, feeling Annabeth and Clarisse stare not only at you and your brother, the rest of camp Half-Bloods cheered for capture the flag simmering down as they too started.

Percy saw it before you did, looking up to follow Annabeth's eyes.

Percy nudged your arm, taking your stare from Clarisse and above to stare with wide eyes, full of confusion before it dawned.

Just over your head, was a three fingered trident, glowing blue.

Annabeth's lips almost quirked up in what looked to be a smile of disbelief at how your lives were now changed.

“Your dad's calling.” Was all Annabeth offered, your eyes moving slowly from the trident of Poseidon to your arm, seeing an obvious mark there.

A soulmate mark.

Your eyes drifted to Clarisse as the rest of the campers looked on, eyes locked on her as she looked at her own hand.

You saw the same mark on her palm.

You gripped your hand in your younger brothers, not sure if it was for his comfort or you're, but Percy held it back as Chiron spoke.

“You two have been claimed…by Poseidon, Earth Shaker, Storm-Bringer. Percy and (Name) Jackson. The children of Poseidon.”

But you couldn't pay attention, too focused on Clarisse, your soulmate, right in front of you

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 3

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, maybe. I don't think anything else. Sorry if there are typos.

Words: 1720

The One I Want Masterlist

---

Jake Seresin is a wizard. Or a mind-reader. Or some creature with wildly sensitive hearing. You’re sure of it. 

In the month since you moved into the apartment, your only moments alone come when you lock yourself in your bedroom. Otherwise, Jake is near you—sitting next to you, looking at you, talking to you. If your door opens, he follows not five seconds later. If you sit down at the island with your breakfast of bland cereal, he enters the kitchen within two minutes to prepare his own meal; the same meal every morning. Eggs, Canadian bacon, and a protein shake. If you dare to switch the television on, turns out he’s been meaning to watch that show for weeks. You had no idea he was into movie special effects competitions. 

It isn’t irritating, exactly—though, it wouldn’t shock you if others experiencing similar treatment would feel that way. You just can’t figure him out. He’s unfigure-outable. You’re pretty sure that’s a thing. If not, Jake Seresin just brought it into existence. And here you thought you were the mystery. 

“So I was thinking,” he says. 

You close your book without a second thought, having barely read and retained a line in the last fifteen minutes anyway. From the moment he came out of his room and plopped down on the couch—his leg bouncing and eyes trained ahead on nothing—you’ve been waiting for him to snap the tense band of silence between you.

His fingers clasp together, thumbs subtly twiddling when he finally looks over to you. “Maybe you could meet my friends. They’ve asked about you, and you’ve already met Nat so it’s really only the guys.”

That was perhaps one of the last things you imagined he would say. You’ve heard very little of his friends. They’re also pilots. His team. They all have weird nicknames. Half of those nicknames are animals. 

There are other tidbits Jake casually mentioned as well. Coyote is his closest friend. There’s a Rooster who recently found himself a chick. A Bob and a Phoenix—who you learned is Nat—are particularly attached. 

But every bit of that information you figured he was simply spilling to fill moments where you were in the same room but not speaking. Or perhaps it’s some method to draw out feelings of trust so you might participate in his little game of show and tell. In his eyes is always the hope that you’ll share something of your own, but you have yet to find the courage or need to do so. 

“Oh,” you reply, trying to gather the correct words to turn him down. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not really up to meeting a group of people today.”

You hate the way his face falls. Like a puppy denied a treat. But it lasts only a second as another thought brightens the green hue of his irises. 

“What if we went somewhere? You and me.”

“What?”

His body shifts on the couch, more of him now facing you. He’s wearing a shirt today. He’s been wearing shirts around you since you made the request weeks ago, but they’re weak at disguising the body underneath. Thin fabric pulled tight like a second skin. 

“You said no bars,” he continues. “How do you feel about diners?”

—

It’s an odd image—Jake framed in this setting. He’s all lean muscle and neatly styled hair with a clean-shaven jawline surrounded by greasy food and booths so old their plastic seats are cracking. As others watch him—particularly the hostess who cannot for her life keep from glancing his way every thirty seconds—he watches you. Says nothing; just watches until the waitress returns to set a few plates and mugs in front of you both. 

“There you go, kids,” she says. She’s older, and her hair is done up in a style that hasn’t followed the turning of the decades, but you like that it suits her; that she hasn’t paid attention to the change around her, or simply doesn’t care. With her hands on her hips, she says, “Now Jake, if I knew you were bringing a girlfriend I would’ve set aside some of that pie you like.”

Your eyes bug so much they could’ve fallen right onto the table, but Jake chuckles, smiling at you before directing it to the waitress. “Don’t spook her, Mags,” he teases. Then, “This is my new roommate.”

Her lips form an ‘O’ that holds for a few seconds too long before she blinks and tilts her head to the side. “Didn’t work out with the other one, honey?”

“Not so much, no.”

“Well, that’s just fine. I wasn’t a fan.” Mags takes a breath and straightens out her little apron; a costume element you’d rather die than wear, but much like her hair, Mags seems to take pride in it. You can’t fault her for that. You wish you could find a job you enjoy. Or a job at all. She shoots you a grin; nothing like the rehearsed smiles from someone in a customer service job, but a genuine curve of the lips that creates a warm little ball in your chest. “You, on the other hand, look like such a sweetheart. So be good to my Jake here.”

You don’t have the opportunity to disappoint her because she doesn’t wait for a response. Be good to her Jake. Not an ask. A demand. An unspoken ‘or else’ hanging in the air. And though she’s got at least forty years on you, you’re pretty sure she’s spry enough to follow through on her sneaky threats. 

Mags squeezes Jake’s shoulder and departs, leaving you in a confused state of mixed energies. Shock and discomfort radiate off of you like heat waves, meeting the cool calmness emanating from a beaming Jake. 

“Will you tell me more about yourself now?” he asks. 

Shaking off the questionable tone of the older woman, you reconnect yourself to the man in front of you. His words soak in; another unexpected curveball Jake has thrown you within one day. His friends want to meet you, and now your personal details are on his mind. What would come next? Does he want to know the last time you were thoroughly kissed? Your high school GPA? Height and weight? If so, he’s going to be terribly disappointed. 

Steaming, wispy tendrils invade your vision, and you finally register the blueberry hint hitting your nostrils. Jake had whispered the order to Mags with the explanation that he already knew what you wanted. And being the mind-reading wizard you’re convinced he is, on a menu of nearly one hundred items he magically happened to pick something you enjoy. 

You hold yourself back from digging in, instead meeting his eyes as you cross your arms over your chest. “You think free pancakes are a good trade for my life story?”

He slowly slides a mug closer to you. “I got you coffee as well.”

When you raise an unenthused brow, Jake sighs. 

“Fine. You’re leaving me no other choice than to guess,” he says. “But if I get it right, will you be honest?”

With a snort, you pick up your fork and take your first bite of the sweet fluffy cake. It’s undeniably delicious. Fucking wizard. “Sure,” you say, and akin to a child, Jake’s eyes light up like a Christmas tree. 

He ignores his own food and drink to once again watch you. Observing. Your eyes to your lips to your neck and back again. When he comes to a conclusion, he leans back in the booth. “You are a fan of the beach and before you die you intend to live in every beach town this country has to offer for at least two months each.”

Your fork pauses halfway to your mouth. “Are you kidding?”

“Well, since it appears that I am wrong, I’m going to say yes I am kidding because I’m very funny like that.” He stares some more, eyes narrowing. “You’re searching for a long-lost family member.”

“No.”

“You are only attracted to Navy men and thought you’d travel to a hub.”

Again, as he likes to do, he leaves you lacking words for a moment. “That better be another one of your ‘I’m very funny like that’ attempts,” you eventually manage to say. “And you know I wasn’t aware this was a Navy town.”

Jake nods and then leans forward in his seat, arms overlapping on the linoleum tabletop. You can sense the sudden shift; a new energy. The glint in his eye doesn't quite go with the steady seriousness of his voice. Like mismatched puzzle pieces. “So you’re not attracted to Navy men?” he asks. 

Your head jerks back to regain the distance he lessened. “Not exclusively.”

“Damn,” he replies, full playful tone back in place. “I wanted to at least get that part right.”

There’s another bright smile from him. A wink. You look to your right to find Mags' watchful gaze; motherly and hopeful.

After another swallow of pancake, you say, “Alright, you’re done for the day.”

“Oh, come on,” he whines. 

When you shake your head, he picks up his fork and begins to poke at the eggs on his plate, and you bask in the silence of his disappointment. Peace and quiet, with the exception of the diners surrounding you. No questions. No attempted agonizing small talk. You have a moment to breathe. 

It’s not until you’re halfway through your food and the coffee is nearly drained that Jake lifts his head. 

“I’m going to figure you out,” he says with an unwelcome note of determination. 

Your eyes snap up. 

The feeling behind his statement is hard to nail down. You would’ve said delving into your history was something fun for him to do. Something to pass the time with the new person in his home. But now it comes off more like a need. A little prick in his side that he can’t shake. 

You so badly want to be wrong in your interpretation. You want him to give up; to surrender to your stubbornness. Ideally, sooner rather than later. 

“You really don’t have to,” you say.

Jake doesn’t miss a beat. Nothing about him—not his breath, not his stare—stutters at your response. Instead, he returns with, “But I want to.”

---

A/N: Sorry it's a little short. Next chapter will be labeled 3.5 and will be from Jake's POV.

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @matisse556 @hardballoonlove @ssa-sadboi @lynnevanss @pono-pura-vida @tgmreader @amgluvsbooks @ravenhood2792 @djs8891 @shakespeareanwannabe @penguin876 @rogersbarnesxx @nani-kenobi @tgmavericklover @athenabarnes @elite4cekalyma @buckysteveloki-me @shelbycillian @kissmethric3 @fox-bee926 @hangmandruigandmav @waltermis @fandom-life-12 @a-serene-place-to-be @bruher @cehenyne @tngrace @mamaskillerqueen @benedictsvestcollection @blackwidownat2814 @himbos-on-ice @entertainmentgal8 @hookslove1592 @whoeverineedtobe @alwaysclassyeagle @chaytea06 @cherrycolas-things @turtle-in-a-tornado @have-a-nice-day-k @inkandarsenic @kidd3ath @coldmuffinbanditshoe

[steveshairychest]

Fashion designer Steve, who accepts a contract to have Rockstar Eddie Munson wear his designs in the latest addition of vogue, but the thing is, he hates Eddie. Hates his cocky smile, his music, the way he called Steve 'doll' the first time they met at some celebrity's birthday party made his skin crawl. But Steve isn't stupid. Eddie's hot, popular and Steve's latest line would look amazing on him. This is the only reason he accepts the deal. If people saw Eddie wearing his designs, they would buy them. Plain and simple.

Steve spends all morning before the shoot dreading having to deal with loud, obnoxious Eddie Munson. He chain smokes on the roof of his studio and tries to remind himself of all the pros of this shoot, of how influential Eddie is. The cons are way longer than the pros.

It's barely past 8am when the studio doors open and in walks the cause of his current headache, but there's something different about this man nervously walking into his studio to the one he's so used to seeing and avoiding at parties. There's no dramatic entrance, no tight leather pants and way too much eye-liner. There's just this... guy. He's in fucking sweatpants and what looks like a pyjama shirt that's been worn way too much, and his hair is tied up in a loose bun that shows off all the earrings he isn't wearing.

"Hi, I'm Eddie." He sticks out his hand politely for a hand shake and Steve is so shocked. He may have squeezed his hand a bit too tightly. "I'm super excited for the shoot! I love your designs." He's smiling at Steve but it's soft, genuine, gentle. It lacks the severity, the cockiness of the smiles he's seen before.

"Uh, thanks." Steve says dumbly and just walks away to the rack of clothes he has picked out for Eddie. "It's just me and you today. Is that okay with you? I work better when it's just me and the model." Steve takes all of his own photos, makes all his designs, does all the make-up and set design. In this industry, he's learned that if you want something done right, you need to do it yourself.

When Steve turns back around, Eddie is standing in the middle of the studio, awkwardly twisting the fabric of his shirt while rocking back onto the balls of his feet. "Yep, that's cool. It's totally cool. Cool as." His cheeks are bright red and he keeps looking around the empty studio, looking anywhere but at Steve.

"Are you nervous?" Steve asks. Nervous and Eddie Munson don't seem like two things that go together in Steve's mind. He's seen Eddie walk out onto a stage in front of thousands of people and thrust against a microphone while singing about sex. But doing a shoot alone with Steve makes him nervous?

"Yeah, you could say I'm a little nervous." He chuckles awkwardly and twirls a loose strand of hair that has fallen from the bun. "I've kind of always wanted to do a shoot with you and I'm terrified I'm going to fuck it up."

That's.. not what Steve was expecting.

"Oh." He says simply, not quite sure what to say to something like that.

"Did I just fuck it up?" Eddie drops the piece of hair and the absolute horror on his face causes Steve to smile.

He shakes his head and hands Eddie an armful of clothes. "Go get changed, pretty boy. You haven't fucked up, if anything you've just secured a permanent spot on my roster." He looks Eddie up and down once. "I like this version of you."

Eddie laughs. "You like my pyjamas?"

"No, you. You seem more real, less, no offence, douchey."

Eddie shrugs and nods in agreement, a few more strands of brown curls fall free. Steve will have to fix that. He wants Eddie's hair up for the shoot. He wants to be able to see every facial expression when Steve tells him how good he is. At posing, that is.

"Being a regular dude isn't what sells albums, unfortunately. So, I've gotta play the part. I've gotta sell sex and make myself seem otherworldly, untouchable, so that people will want me, want my music." He says this with a shrug, acts like it's just a casual thing to say. Steve can see that it's more than that though, can see how much Eddie dislikes having to play pretend to get people to like him.

He nods over to the small dressing room. "You don't have to be anyone else today. I just want Eddie. Only wear what you're comfortable in. I'll order us some breakfast, yeah?" He tries to make Eddie feel comfortable, tries to release some of the tension that had settled in the air by being friendly, a lot friendlier than he normally is with celebrity models. He usually tries to keep a distance from them.

"Pizza?" Eddie asks hopefully.

Steve scrunches up his nose and raises an eyebrow in question. "For breakfast? Really?" That didn't surprise him at all. Eddie's a rockstar. He's probably never had a balanced meal in his life.

Steve ignores the little voice in his head that whispers I could cook for him, make sure he's eating well and looking after himself.

"Yes, really. Extra anchovies, please."

"I've changed my mind. You've fucked it up. Go home."

Steve hears Eddie cackle as he slams the dressing room door shut and it's a surprisingly nice sound. Not as grating and obnoxious as the fake laugh he'd been subjected to at a party last year, it's a warm, almost melodic sound and it makes Steve's lips twitch into a smile.

Maybe this shoot won't be as torturous as he'd thought it would be.

[thegoldencontracts]

What Do You Want?

Summary: You try to approach Azul with an offer. His response is- odd, to say the least.

Notes: My heart wants fluff to make up for the angst yesterday... im sorry T_T

The moment you'd first seen Azul, you thought he was pretty. Then, you started noticing other little cool things about him. And before you knew it, you had a crush.

"You're- so stupid!" Ace said with a laugh. "You actually think Azul Ashengrotto would ever like anyone? Best outcome is, he tries to scam you but you barely manage to win."

"I've got a point-card!" You said cheerily. "And I've made a rough outline of what I want my contract to look like."

The 'outline' was only one sentence, but Ace didn't need to know that.

At that moment, though, Ace's eyes widened.

"You're actually gonna do it?" He said, the grin fading from his face.

"Yeah," you said. You were going to try and make a contract with him, see what happened. Maybe it wouldn't work out. But hey, you'd never know if you didn't try!

Besides, you had a plan. And that plan was what brought you to the VIP room, a golden point card in hand.

"Ah, what a pleasant surprise it is to see you here!" Azul said with a salesman's grin that somehow still looked cute. "I was under the impression you couldn't afford point-cards."

You laughed.

"It's lovely what happens when you make people compensate you for your labor," you said. And it was true. Telling people you'd do something for a free meal at the Lounge got you point cards and food witthout any complaints. For some reason, people were more willing to do that than give you the money straight-up, even if the expensive meals usually meant they'd have to pay more. Whatever.

"Oh," Azul said, before quickly changing the topic. "So what exactly is your desire?"

You smirked.

"Azul," you said. "Considering the ranking of the Golden card, that means you have to accept any contract I propose, so long as it doesn't pose direct harm to your mental or physical wellbeing in some way, shape, or form, correct?"

Azul's brows furrowed in confusion.

"Correct, however, you're forgetting-"

"The impact limit, yes," you said. "If the wish in question requires maiming, killing, or mentally scarring any individual, whether or not you agree to grant it becomes a decision entirely at your discretion."

At this point, Azul was looking at you like you'd grown two heads.

"Your point is...?" He asked.

"I won't have to make any other payment for my wish then, correct?" You said. You knew how these exchanges worked, and you did not want to get scammed.

Azul bit his lip.

"Fine, fine, you 'win', I suppose. Just- tell me what exactly it is you desire," he said.

You smiled, handing him a piece of paper with the draft of your contract on it. Azul's eyes widened in shock at its contents.

'Be my friend!' it said.

"Sooooo, what do you think?" You asked.

Azul shot you a glare. Harsh.

"What do you want?"

"I already told you- well, wrote to you, I guess, but-"

"No," Azul said, voice dangerously level. "What do you truly want?"

"Be my friend!" You said, flashing him a thumbs up. But Azul was still angry. Did he just hate you or something?

"I don't appreciate such juvenile attempts at mockery," he said. "If you have no true wish to make, then I shall have you escorted out."

You sighed. Seriously, this was getting annoying. Did he want to avoid you that badly?

"Look," you said. "I already laid it all out - you should try being my friend! And if you don't like it, then you stop! Simple as that, right?"

Azul scoffed.

"That's preposterous," he said. "No one would ever want such a thing-"

"Well, I want it," you said, before sighing. "Look, is it really that big of a deal?"

At that, Azul seemed to malfunction, like he couldn't possibly comprehend what you were saying. That was weird. Why wasn't he happy? Wasn't he going to try and scam you or something?

At long last, Azul shook away the red dusting his cheeks, handing you a pamphlet.

"Take this for now," he said. It was a study guide for Alchemy. "And keep the point card. I'll continue my inquiry tomorrow during lunch, so prepare yourself. Now then, leave."

"Great! See you tomorrow lunch then, Azul."

You took the study guide and headed for the exit. The study guide was pretty good, actually. And there was that little chibi doodle with hearts around it - you didn't know where it came from, but it kind of reminded you of yourself!

So, hey, it seemed like things were going pretty well.

Meanwhile, Azul was in a panic.

"The Prefect's caught on, I'm certain of it!" He said to Floyd and Jade, furiously flipping through his book of contingency plans for any type of social situation gone wrong. "Why else would such an odd request be made of me?"

Floyd rolled his eyes.

"Cause Shrimpy wanted to be your friend?" He said.

"No one would ever desire such a thing!" Azul said. "The Prefect's found out about that foolish little crush of mine, and decided to make a fool out of me. There's no other explanation!"

It was a sensible explanation, wasn't it? Common, too. It had happened to Azul all the time back then. He simply had to make sure he didn't slip, that he established consequences for all those who attempted to mess with him now.

His thoughts were cut off by the sound of Jade's laughter.

"What seems to be the matter, Jade? Do enlighten me," Azul asked dryly.

"You made an error in your panicked frenzy with the Prefect, that's all," Jade said. "The study guide you gave was the one with the doodles."

Azul felt his mouth go dry.

"W-What?"

"The one filled with countless doodles of your little crush, surrounded by hearts."

O-Of all the study guides, why that one?

Seven, how he wished to crawl into an octopus pot right now. But for now, all he could settle for was burying his face in his hands, left alone with his thoughts as he tuned Jade and Floyd out entirely.

He hadn't believed it, but- what if you were being sincere? What if you truly did want to grow closer to him? Yes, it was true that such a thing had never occurred in the past, meaning an analysis of past trends would seem such a thing impossible, and this sort of trick had been played on him countless times before but-

You seemed oddly sincere about it. And, frankly, he wanted you to be.

Azul couldn't help but sigh. Though it would likely cause him problems later, for now, he couldn't help but let himself hope.

[pablitogavii]

i miss ur weekly uploads 🫶🫶😭😭

I'm sorry :/ I'm trying to get back to writing more <3 This is just for you ❤️

His special woman

"I'm so sorry I can't be with you tonight mi amor..but you know that you're the most important woman in my life" Pablo said on face time while you smiled blushing and nodding your head.

He was traveling to show support to his team that is experiencing a really hard season since Xavi announced he's leaving. You of course understood that Gavi was the heart of the team, but seeing other women with their partners made you sad that he's not here with you.

The bell rang and you ran to open with Pablo still on your phone screen smirking to himself. You were shocked to see a big bouquet of flowers standing in front of your door with a little letter attached.

"Amor..these are so beautiful" you say showing it to him and he nods telling you to bring them inside and open the note.

"Read it to me guapa.." he said and you blushed placing the basket on the kitchen counter before opening little pink envelope.

"Happy international women's day to mi amor precioso. I love you with all my heart and you're my special woman." you read with red cheeks smiling at him and sending him kisses he pretended to catch on the other side.

y.n.bebe

amore mio❤️

comentarios:

pablogavi:❤️

mikkykiemeney:😍

pablogavihater: he's not even with his woman for march 8th..so much love 😂😂

y.n.fake.account: she's getting flowers but not his attention cause he prob with other girls!

lola.bb: yeah with me ;))

y.n.queen: keep dreaming! 😂

y.n.pablo.gavi: people are so mean 🥺 pablo bought her flowers! leave them alone!!

gavi.pablo: all players were with their women today but Pablo didn't even go to see her after training lololol

You read comments sadly looking at the flowers hating the fact that they made you doubt your relationship. It was just so hard...when everyone hates..and then that girl saying Pablo is with her..you were guilty enough to check her profile.

Pablo was seeing the same comments and knowing what an over thinker his girl is, he immediately changed his plans with the boys.

"I'm sorry, míster. But something important came up..I will travel tomorrow and be there for the game? Bueno?" he said and the man understood already having other players do the same in order to spend the day with their wives. Xavi admired Gavi for treating his girlfriend like so.

You were just about ready to make yourself some dinner when a loud knock startled you. You opened shocked to see Pablo standing there in his suit...this man owns your heart!

"P..Pablo? Pero how are you here?" you mumble and he grabbed your face kissing your lips passionately.

"Get ready, and let's shut them all up amor" he said and you smiled knowing what he was talking about. He wanted to prove them all wrong and stick besides you.

"Pero..your trip?" you say unsure if this was a smart thing to do.

"I'll travel tomorrow morning..but tonight I'm with my special woman" he said and those words had your heart melting..how could anyone say no to that!?

"Don't worry, I'll get changed fast" you say and he smiled nodding and walking in to wait for you dolling up just for him. He smiled at the big bouquet of flowers you organized all around your shared apartment.

"Amor! Can you zip me up please?" you call from the bedroom and he smirked walking in and gasping at how breathtaking you looked right now..he was the luckiest man on eart!

"Ready to go princesa mia?" he said and you smile nodding and grabbing his hand. You went to one of your favorite restaurants in Barcelona, obviously "having reservation" because of who he is. He was Barca golden boy after all and that had it's perks.

"All of this because you wanted to shut up the haters.." you say holding his hands while waiting for desert really having enjoyed the entire night.

"No..to be with my special woman..and yeah to shut them all up because I love you more than anyone in this world..and nobody should questions that!" he said and you smiled brining your hands closer together and kissing his which made him blush.

pablogavi

Tonight is reserved for my special woman. Happy March 8th mi vida!

comentarios:

y.n.bebe: mi bebé preciosooo❤️❤️❤️

pedri:👏🏻

fcbarcelona: happy barça ladies 😍

ferminlopez_: she stole you from me hermano🥺

y.n.bebe:😂

fermin.gavi.fans: jealous fermin!!!

gavifans: THE BEST at shutting up HATERS!

y.n.princesa: she's the luckiest girl on eart!

pablogavi: I'm the luckiest guy

y.n.princesa: OMG😳😳😳👀

"Te amo muchisimo mi chico" you say in bed while the two of you cuddled ready to fall asleep.

"Yo te amo mas mi vida. You will always be my special woman" he said kissing your head and you smile nodding your head and holding your on top of his heart feeling it beat fast knowing he was speaking only the truth.

[prettyboykatsuki]

premeditated | i. yoichi + i. rin

✭ tags ; cucking, like explicit cucking, isagi cucking rin, praise + soft dom isagi, rin having horrible realizations, this is all very consensual rin just many psychological problems, fem + afab!reader, petnames, voyeurism. 18+

✭ wc ; 2.4k

✭ a/n ; do you ever feel so consumed with a single thought you can't stop thinking about it until its Out Of You.

✭ synopsis ; rin lets isagi fuck you. isagi likes seeing you squirm.

Rin doesn't know why he agreed to this.

Watching you now, embarrassed as you shimmy out of you shorts and let Isagi see you partly naked, Rin doesn't know whats going through his head. He doesn't know if he ever will.

His relationship to Isagi has always been a complicated affair. The suggestion of Isagi fucking his girlfriend had been brought up in jest. But not really. Because Rin knows how Isagi looks at you like he wants to steal you from Rin's grasp. Typical of an egoist, of a striker.

Rin hates to lose. He hates things that are lukewarm. He hates his brother for being such a dick and he hates Isagi for looking at you like that. He hates it for so many reasons.

He can't bring himself to hate you, though. Maybe that's part of the problem. It's easier to push the responsibility onto someone else when it comes to stuff like this, but he can't do that with you. You had asked so many times if he was fine with the idea.

Not immune to Isagi's goading, Rin had agreed in the end. For reasons he's not interested in exploring.

Isagi is different to him. This is obvious, always - made apparent to anyone who's seen them in the same room. Rin knows this and he doesn't care. He's a better player than Isagi where it matters.

It doesn't change the fact that they're different. It becomes obvious when he watches Isagi watch you - as he's seated in a chair across the room with his arms crossed. It's unmistakable that Isagi is directing most of his attention you, wearing a friendly smile to help ease your nerves.

But he's looking at Rin, too. Rin notices. He couldn't not notice even if he tried.

Isagi sits on the edge of the bed and waits for you to get undressed to your comfort. You take off your shorts first, then your top - and the set you're wearing is matching. Isagi whistles. Rin grits his jaw. This is stupid.

"Woah," Isagi says, breathless - all the air knocked out of his lungs "Look at you,"

There's a shock of pride that threads through him that Rin doesn't dare express. He does watch on as you flush, his eyes fixed on your expression. You seem shy, almost, at the attention. Isagi notices too, then smiles at you. It's warm and friendly, and Rin doesn't know why it's fucking with him the way it is.

"I mean it," Isagi affirms, reaching out for your hand. He kisses your knuckles, a warbly smile on his face that has you blinking at him slowly "You're really pretty,"

"Oh uhm," You glance at Rin, then back to Isagi "Thank you, Isagi."

"Yoichi," He corrects and your eyes go wide.

"Oh. Thats,"

"You can't?" Isagi offers. It catches you off guard. He's teasing you. Rin does it too, sometimes. When he can't swallow his affection for you, Rin will tease you. Just sometimes, when he can manage.

"It's," You flush like you don't know what to say "Sorry, I'm just embarrassed."

"That's okay," Isagi says, and he means it because he has no intention to be anything but nice to you "Just focus on me."

You look worried, ashamed. You glance at Rin and his expression is the same. Unreadable. You almost seem disappointed and something about that is stifling.

"Okay,"

It's unusual. You're not meek, ever. You pick fights with Rin just fine. You're always straight about your advances and your feelings. There's gaps to fill and you do so without any effort. With Isagi you're flush and nervous. Isagi anchors you, his hand coming around the back of your thigh. He squeezes the skin of your body gently, his hands traveling up. At your hip, putting his thumb in the waistband of your panties.

You squirm, and he brings you a little closer to him. You end up straddling one of his thighs. Rin doesn't know where to look. He feels like a voyeur of a relationship that doesn't exist. He doesn't know if he should feel angry or not.

No. He knows that he should, and he does - but not for the right reasons. Not even close to the right reasons.

He doesn't know how to manage the distinct feeling of lust inside of his stomach, burning through his body so rapidly it blindsides him. A knot in his stomach like he'll be sick. Isagi often talks to Rin like he knows something he doesn't and it never fails to anger Rin.

But right now, his eyes are so stuck on what's happening in front of him he can't breathe. Insecurity and shame and anger and sheer unadulterated desire coil themselves on his insides like vines. He doesn't have the courage to move, stuck in his chair. Isagi is tender. He touches you with a kind of affection Rin can't imagine expressing that easily.

And you keen. You hiccup and let Isagi touch you in whatever way he wants. It's permissive. Isagi kisses you and encourages you to kiss him back and Rin stares. He stares so long and so hard he doesn't know what to do.

For some unknown reason, Rin feels hot. He feels like his skin is burning up. It's almost nauseating to know it's something he can feel. You let Isagi sit you on his hard cock, obvious bulge in the loose pants he where. His eyes trickle down to where your bodies meet.

"So pretty," Isagi says, enthusiastic "Feels like my lucky day."

You whimper, almost and Isagi laughs. He whispers something into your ear that Rin only catches after. It travels in the air and falls in his lap.

"Lets let him see," He suggests. Your eyes widen but even in your hesitance, you trust Isagi. So, Isagi turns you around. You face Rin, suddenly - and everything is too much. He can stop this at any time. He knows that because you spent twenty minutes fussing. It's too much to know that. To know any of ths.

He doesn't move. Isagi looks at him, very seriously and says one thing.

"Don't move. Pay attention,"

To which can only really respond with "Fuck you."

But he can hear it too. It's effecting him. He hates how much, hates feeling it stir deep down in a place he'd never reach alone. If it were anyone else, Rin would be seeing red. He'd kill them for even suggesting it.

But it's Isagi, who glances at Rin with neither disdain or pride. It's not outright bullying. It's not the sort of egoism Rin is used too. It distinctly Isagi in nature. It reminds him a lot of Sae, in a way that's too twisted for him to examine.

His breath hitches, and Isagi hums. He cups your tits in his hands and squeezes them together, nose nudging your shoulder. Rin watches him grope you. You squirm in his lap while it happens and close your eyes - moan pretty and soft.

"Did you do what I asked you too?" Isagi offers. Your eyes flutter open. You look at Rin then look away.

"...Yeah. Was kinda embarassing," You say. Isagi laughs.

"Thank you for preparing yourself," He offers, so painfully sincere that you look giddy and Rin doesn't know what to do thinking about it. You touched yourself in the shower, waiting for this "I want to take my time with you but if I draw it out too long, well,"

He stares at Rin, this time. Smirks. Rin doesn't know what the fuck to do with himself. He doesn't know why he agreed to it. He's almost blinded with jealousy and anger, despite himself. He's forced to reconcile with how much he loves you in the worst way. He's forced to acknowledge that it's only Isagi that could ever get this far. Rin doesn't even want to think about that part of it.

"Don't think it would go well, is all," Isagi says, sounding so fucking smug. Rin seethes.

He watches, in spite of it.

Isagi is careful as he takes your panties off your legs. You let him. You're wet. It's all Rin can think of. It's so visible, cunt dripping with arousal and preening with need. Isagi gets an eyeful and looks stunned, his arm curled around your waist with a hand traveling between your legs. He toys with your clit, rubs your pussy with skillful hands.

You moan and Isagi grins all to himself.

"I feel lucky I get to do this once in my life," He admits. You laugh, so bubbly and so bright. Isagi makes you comfortable.

"You're so lame." You offer, affectionate. Rin grips the handle of his chair. It aches. Every one of his nerves his on fire. He wonders if this is some shitty nightmare his heads come up with to torment him.

Isagi grins up a little, turning your chin to kiss you.

"I'm happy, that's all. You're really cute. I like it,"

"Stop complimenting me," You whine, and it's true.

"Why?" Isagi asks. He lifts you enough to pull his cock out and it takes more will not to look than Rin would ever hope. "He doesn't compliment you? You've been dating for a while, yknow?"

Being addressed after having been ignored gives Rin whiplash. He opens his mouth to say something, but it falls closed as Rin looks at you. Despite the situation, you look like you love Rin and you mean it. It chokes him up. It drives him up a wall to know that.

And it dawns on him for the first time in his life, it's him who needs you and not the other way around.

"He's not the verbal type," You say. It's not a complaint. You're not even angry or upset. It's warm, affectionate "So I'm not used to it,"

"Wow," Isagi says, pushing the tip of his cock through your folds - slick. You moan, loud and shameless as it nudges your clit "You're so sweet."

"Yoichi," And something in Rin shatters. If it's shame or control, he has no idea - but it's psychological and tender. A nerve struck, bleeding and raw and sensitive to the touch.

And Isagi knows. He might've known the whole time. Rin is furious, seeing white. Worse, he's so fucking worked up it's driving him crazy - a feeling he can usually only access completely alone or with you but never any time else. He feels like he's being swept under a massive tide, sea water pulling him. Saltwater in his lungs, drying his skin.

Isagi, much like how he plays, has orchestrated that from the very beginning. Rin realizes too late that he never changes. This series of events is intentional and well-timed. Isagi brings out sides in people no one else ever sees. It's his ego to do so.

Rin feels his cock twitch against his legs.

He's never deluded himself. You're close with a lot his teammates. It's how you met. Isagi is no exception. It's natural to see this, almost. Isagi lets out a quiet grunt as he ease his cock into you so slowly. You gasp like you've been hit, then it tapers off into a broken moan. Isagi shudders, his whole body going taut. Isagi spouts off a long line of curses and praise and you tremble relentlessly as he eases his way inside.

"Oh, Yoichi."

"Feel okay?" Isagi asks, thoughtfully. You nod and Rin stares at the hand Isagi has on your waist "Good girl."

You whimper, shamefully, at the pet name. Isagi starts to move, and room fills with a wet sound. You moan and moan and moan, and Isagi praises you just for existing. He expresses himself concisely and you twitch, clench at nothing when he pulls out and pushes back in on repetition. Rin watches. He doesn't feel like he can do anything but watch on.

Isagi notices, half-way. Before you're too fucked out, he calls for you and you respond pliantly.

"Tell him to touch himself," Isagi suggests. Your eyes widen. Rin feels like a deer caught in headlights "He'll get mad if I do it." He says, observationally. Rin seethes.

"Rin," Your voice is sweet. Beyond gentle and warm and so loving despite it all "It's okay if you want to enjoy yourself," You offer, like you know. Rin swallows something, the growing itch. It burns. He feels feverish with it.

It buries him. Touching himself is humiliating in this instance. He's watching the only person he's ever loved in his life get fucked so adoringly by someone else. By Isagi, who has taken much more from him than this.

The catharsis is horrifying. It's nauseating but Rin doesn't stop it. He doesn't want to stop you.

You get taken apart slowly. Blissful and needy, Isagi is responsive to you. It's clear you feel good. Rin has a hand at the base of his shaft stroking upwards. He's so worked up.

And it's not just you feeling pleasure, but everything. Every element of this is driving Rin to his breaking point.

"Tell him how good it feels," Isagi suggests almost innocently. You're too fucked out to process it.

"Feels so good, Rin. Feels so nice,"

"Yeah? I bet it does," Isagi says with a huff, not ceasing to thrust up into your cunt with an almost malicious force and deceptively sweet words "You take it so well,"

"Really?"

Rin has to stop himself from cumming when you seek Isagi's approval.

"Really. Take it so nice. You feel s-so incredible. It'd be a shame to only feel it once, don't you think? You should ask your boyfriend if I can have you some other times too. When I win, maybe."

You whine and thrash. You're going to cum soon, and Isagi encourages you. Goads you even further. Calls Rin your boyfriend and doesn't even bother acknowledging him.

"Yoichi," You say, shaking and gasping and holding on for dear life. His cock twitches "I-I'm gonna, it's,"

"Wanna feel you cum for me. Shh, it's okay," Isagi reassures.

He can't do anything but watch. Stare at your silhouette as Isagi fucks you through an intense orgasm that has you almost going limp. Isagi shallows his thrusts and praises you so relentlessly and Rin feels his cock twitch in his hand. Feels something spill into his fingers, hto and white, as horror dawns on him a minute too late.

Isagi stills. He hasn't finished. He kisses your shoulder and looks at Rin across the way. Without asking him, Isagi directs his words to you.

"Think you can give me one more?"

Isagi knows what you'll do. Predictably, you ask Rin. With big, watery eyes and pure need.

"Can I?"

Isagi grins wildly. Rin's answer comes out as a hoarse whisper.

"Yeah. You can."

[desi2go]

Moonlight

pairing: werewolf Minho x vampire reader

warnings: fluff

request: I think it would be so cute to have like Minho have the whole “I hate everyone but you” kinda vibe and the reader is just a social butterfly who talks to all mythical beings. Would love a cute fic on this (even better with a skz pack meeting vampire!reader)

author's note: Thank you for my first request! Loved writing it 🫶🏼 and I hope you enjoy it as well

Mystical creatures weren't something uncommon in your world. Since the beginning of time there were documents, statues and other thing that showed evidence that not only humans wandered around the earth. These creatures mostly hid and disguised as humans. The most common species were werewolves and vampires.

And you never thought that especially you would meet so many different creatures. Let alone, turn into one. You were born 1975 and lived a rather normal life. But suddenly that changed when you turned 23 years old. You were still in college and walked home after the last lesson for the day in the late afternoon to your small apartment.

It were only 300 metres from the campus to your home, the sun had already sunk, and yet you met a creature right in front of your front door. The person didn't even look human, the dark nearly hiding it's appearance completely.

But you heard the whimpers of a woman. She must have been forced into the corner and the creature towered over her.

"Hey! Let her go!" You exclaimed and drew the attention of the thing to you. The street light lighted the face and it was a man, a vampire. His blood stained lips crooked into a smile, showing his sharp fangs. "Who are you, little one? Do you wanna play the hero?" His voice was raspy and his yellow eyes never left your body.

He let the woman down, she tumbled but catched herself and ran away as quick as possible. "You look stunning, dear. You're too pretty to be a blood bar, right?" He purrs, with a great speed, his body crashed against yours, forcing you to fall backwards to the ground.

His fangs pierced your skin and a scream escaped you. He chuckled and retracted his fangs. "Sorry dear. Needed to taste you" then, he bit in his own wrist and pressed it against your lips, forcing you to open your mouth so that you could feel the cold metallic blood on your tongue. Unsuccessful, you tried pushing him away from you.

You felt a mingle there, where his fangs broke your skin and the pain eased away.

He then pulled his arm away, brushing the remaining blood from his wrist, the wound already closing. " Good night dear" he whispered into your ear and before you could process that, he grabbed your neck and everything faded to black.

⛧☯⛧

The following months were hard for you. Being a vampire was totally different from being human. When you woke up the day after that man gave you his blood, everything hurt in you, the sun made your skin itch and you quickly ran into your apartment since your skin was already lightly burned.

You had been shocked when you catched a glimpse on your bright yellow eyes in the mirror and some of your teeth were sharper than usual, forming your fangs.

The blood lust was a torture and you couldn't even be in the near of a human. But fortunately, you crossed path with a witch that teaches you how to control yourself whenever humans are near you. She helped you to learn how to hunt animals so that you don't need human blood. With that help, you could finally complete your college.

After your graduation, you packed your things and moved to the rim of the city. That way, you where near the witches home and could easily hunt animals due to the fields and the forest at your place. It was a small house that you bought from your savings but it felt like you could finally be yourself there.

Years passed. Well, 20 years to be exact. You still lived in that house. But you don't live alone anymore. Five years ago, you crossed path with a young witch, Arin, she was just 18 years old. You found her on the streets after her parents kicked her out because they were afraid by her magic.

The old witch that helped you a long time ago, told you how you could identify if a person is a mystical creature or a human so that as soon as you layed eyes on Arin, you knew that you needed to help her. Just like the old witch did.

You took her home and introduced her to the old woman. With her help she could finally understand how her powers worked.

Since then, you became a shelter for mystical creatures. And you loved to help them.

⛧☯⛧

The forest was quiet, no voice could be heard. The full moon stood high in the night sky and bathed the forest in a silvery light. A cold wind blew through the trees. You loved to hunt in the night. After all, you were a vampire. The old witch crafted a ring so that you could go into the sun but hunting was more fun in the depth of the night.

Soundless, you sneaked up to a rabbit. Then, a twig cracked and your pray ran away. You sighed and looked out for the source that made the sound. You guessed that your meal needs to wait.

It wasn't a deer or another animal. It was a werewolf. The moon lightened some strands of his black hair, making it slightly silver. With attentive eyes, he followed every motion.

"Hey, wolfie. What's your name?" You asked friendly, brushing your own hair out of your face. He doesn't answer you. "Okay. So, I'm Y/n" you introduced yourself.

"You're a vampire." He stated coldly. "Yeah, I am. And you're a wolf. I don't remember any packs that live here. Where you coming from?"

"We moved here recently" he just mentioned. His body language showed his cautions and the cold temperament that hid underneath his skin.

"That's great. I'm always open for new neighbours. I live here. So maybe you want to come around with your pack" you smiled at him.

"Sorry, not interested" he told you, leaning against a tree.

"Okay. Then, hopefully see you soon, wolfie" you exclaimed, walking away to search for your next pray.

"Don't call me wolfie!" He shouted annoyed. You chuckled, it was sweet how easily he was to tease. "Alright, then tell me your name!" You said over your shoulder.

"It's Minho." He exclaimed. "Well, then it was a pleasure to meet you, Minho" you loved how easily his name rolled off your tongue. With the speed of a vampire, you searched for another rabbit.

⛧☯⛧

At home, Arin was over the moon as soon as you told her about the werewolf. She was a helpless romantic and always dreamed of love that mostly happens in books or movies. She demanded you to go into the forest again and we'll, you needed to hunt anyways.

The moon lighted your way deeper into the woods. The more time you spend here, the clearer became your mind. You loved being here.

"Hello Y/n" the voice as yesterday said. You quickly turned around. It was indeed Minho. Like yesterday, he leaned onto a tree but now with a more relaxed posture.

"Nice to see you, Minho. What ya doing here?"

"Enjoying the night. And you?" His eyes sparkled under the calming light of the moon.

"Hunting"

"Aren't you drinking blood?" He asks. "Yeah but I just drink from animals. Like rabbits and other creatures that live in the woods" you explained.

"So you're not drinking from humans?" You chuckled. "No. And in addition, I take the dead animals home so that my friends can have something to eat too"

"Are they also vampires?"

"Sometimes. Like I said yesterday, my door is always open for creatures that need shelter. And sometimes I live together with werewolves, vampires or witches"

"That's crazy." He muttered. You laughed, giving him a toothless smile. "Yup, but I like it that way."

You noticed how comfortable he was slowly getting as the conversation progressed further.

The following days, you met Minho often in the woods. He still held some distance but he grew more open and outgoing as the time went along. You couldn't deny that he was sweet and funny. And you enjoyed spending time with him.

Sometimes, you could even lure out a small smile so that his lips formed a toothy smile and a rosy tone was covering his cheeks.

As the time went on, you couldn't help but fall for the wolf. Both your personalities were totally different. He was the night, somewhat cold but at the same time caring from far away, and you were the sun, warm and friendly, even to strangers. But undeniably, you complimented each other. Just like Ying and Yang.

It was once again another meeting with him and you found him on the exact same place as always, the place where you had met for the first time.

"Hello Y/n" he welcomed, walking towards you. "Hello Minho" you smiled at him. Just like the other times, you both strolled through the woods, talking about everything and nothing, or just enjoyed each others company in a peaceful silence.

You told him about the young boy who stood at your porch this morning, a little vampire who just got turned. Of course you offered help to him. As you talked about the little guy, you walked over some big roots on the earth.

However, something that didn't disappear while being a vampire, was your clumsiness, especially when you don't concentrate on your environment.

Just like now, you didn't see a root and tripped over it. You yelped and grabbed anything to stop you from falling. Well, the nearest thing was Minho's shirt. But you didn't expect him to loose balance as well. Together, you crashed to the ground, him over you.

Quickly, he held himself up with his forearms to get his weight off your chest. "Are you okay?" He asked, worry showing clearly on his face. "Yeah" you whispered. His warm body heated your cold one.

Your eyes wandered over his face, searching for any hints of pain. You were met just with the prettiest eyes you have ever seen. They were black in the low light of the moon, still his soul and passion lightened it. Slowly, he changed his position to take some weight off his arms. One hand crept up your waist and your side. Then, it reached your neck and finally his warm hand caressed your cheek.

"You're beautiful" he mumbled, his hot breath hitting your neck.

His fingers brushed over the soft skin if your cheek when he lowered himself some more, his eyes jumping up and down from your eyes to your lips. Then, he overcame the last few centimeters and his lips crashed against yours. At first slowly and cautious but more and more passionate. You closed your eyes and just concentrated on the feeling of his pillowy lips and his scent.

⛧☯⛧

"Are you sure, you wanna meet the pack? We can still go home" Minho asked for the hundredth time. His hand held yours, caressing his thumb over yours.

"Of course it want to meet them! They're you're family" you exclaimed. Your first kiss was five weeks ago and you were over the moon when he suggested that you could meet his pack. The first thing that he did was warning you. His family was chaotic, he had said.

He brought you to a house at the other side of the forest and it was so much bigger than your tiny home. Minho opened the front door and entered, you followed him slowly.

"Guys, I'm home!" He shouted and lead you into the living room.

"Hey Min!" A brown haired boy with round cheeks exclaimed. Then, he noticed you. "Who is that?"

"Jisung, that's Y/n. My girlfriend" Minho introduced you, his fingers drawing circles on your lower back. "Since when did you have a girlfriend?" Another wolf with blonde dyed hair asked who just came through one of the doors.

"You are capable of finding a girlfriend?" A man with brown hair asked with a teasing smirk. He seemed much younger than Minho who just rolled his eyes.

Then, a wolf with curly hair came towards you with a friendly smile. "Seungmin don't be so sassy! Anyways, nice to meet ya! I'm Chan." He said.

So the younger wolf must be Seungmin. "It's nice to meet you too!" You answered.

"I'm Felix and that's Changbin and Hyunjin!" The boy with the blond hair stated and pointed to two other persons. "I'm excited to finally meet you all. I'm Y/n!" You introduced yourself as well. They seemed to don't mind that you were a vampire and not a human or a werewolf.

"I never thought that that old guy could find someone who was possible of loving him" Seungmin mentioned teasingly. Minho pressed a short kiss against your cheek. "Alright that's enough. I'll be right back, love. I just need to murder Seungmin" he grumbled and chased after the younger one.

You laughed as you watched the chasing. Chan sighed and sat beside you on the sofa. " I hope Min warned you that we are chaotic when we are ourselves" he said. You chuckled. "Yeah, he mentioned that" and you already loved that bunch of people.

[atinysunbaby]

⌛Ateez Matz unit reaction to skinship⌛

- Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong

Warnings : Suggestive, don't read if uncomfortable.

💖Park Seonghwa💖

Since the first day of your relationship, Seonghwa has always been the one to initiate skinship and he's even the one who asked you out. It makes him feel a bit insecure sometimes, because endless worries go through his mind. He wishes you would be clingy and show your love in a way that makes him feel special. He's scared that you don't love him as much as you let it appear and that it's never going to change.

You're shocked to find him outside your apartment during one of his work days, but the first thing he mentions while entering is that he took a day off to come see you. You lead the way inside, getting him a drink and laying out a few of his favorite snacks on the coffee table for him to enjoy.

He starts the conversation and you can see his eyes brimming with tears, voice unsteady. The moment the words come out of his mouth, he bursts out crying. He wanted to confront you and admit that he wants more physical affection from you, but he must be too overwhelmed. It surprises the both of you, but Seonghwa is confused more than anything.

"I don't know why I'm crying." You can't resist his adorable scrunched up face, eyes shining with salty waterfalls and pouty lips. Your instincts take over and you hurry to straddle his laps, tightening your arms around his neck and kissing away his tears before pecking the rest of his face and he starts humming contentedly.

"You must have been so worried. You didn't even know how much it affected you. My poor baby." Seonghwa beams with delight, eyes closing in satisfaction as you continue your ravage on his skin. You hear a few whimpers while leaving hickeys all over his jaw, neck and collarbone. The more you touch him, the redder he gets.

When you finally pull away, admiring your artwork, you fail to notice the flustered expression on your boyfriend's face, but you can't help giggling as you look up. His eyes are dazed and he looks absolutely gone in his own world, it seems almost too complicated for him to gain back his senses.

"Are you with me baby?" He nods dumbly, watching you with adoration, but not being able to utter a word. From then on, you always take the time to show him how much he means to you and he certainly loves every second of it.

💙Kim Hongjoong💙

Hongjoong doesn't like skinship. No, actually he does, but only when it's you. He won't admit it though, especially not in front of other people. At first you figured he would prefer if you didn't try anything, but still make sure to get a few hugs and kisses here and there, because you personally like it.

When you don't give him any type of physical affection, it almost pains him. Until one day he can't take it and ends up accidentally admitting that he craves for your touch. "Come sit here."

Getting ready to watch a movie with him and the rest of ateez, he pat his thighs for you to sit on and it doesn't even register in his mind that he is 'supposed' to hate it. You hesitate for a minute, wondering if he really means it or if he made a joke, but you see the realization on his face and notice that he doesn't back down from his request.

"You comfortable?" You nod and turn sideways to analyse his expression. He wears a satisfied smirk and the hands squeezing your waist lets you know that he enjoys it as much as you do.

Some of the boys decide to start teasing him, swearing that they knew he was whore for your touch and Hongjoong retaliates, clearly bothered by their words. It goes on for a while and you get tired of them being little shits. "Hongjoong?"

His attention is on you almost at the speed of light and it only acts as gasoline on the fire, snickers filling the room followed by Seonghwa scolding his kids and Hongjoong flipping them off angrily.

You feel him shift underneath you and see how bothered he looks, which upsets you too. Hoping to make his mood better, with your hands on both sides of his jaw, you lift his head up and initiate a rather intense kiss.

The second your lips touch, it's dead silent and you can imagine the shock on their faces, the thought riling you up even more. You wanted them to be speechless and it worked, but your main priority is and always will be your boyfriend, who is getting more agitated as time passes.

He's getting bolder, forgetting about the small public you have and you hate to put a stop to his new found hunger, but it's better to continue somewhere else. Pulling away, a trail of saliva connects from your tongues and you press your lips one last time against his to break it.

He's breathing heavily and you both chuckle lightly before turning to face the seven dumbfounded men. There's a certain tension in the air and you feel proud to be the one who made it happen. "You coming Hongjoong? I want you inside of me."

Your boyfriend confidently stands up to grab your hand, leading the way to his room and ignoring the wide eyes and gapping mouths of his bandmates.

Ateez masterlist

[writingsbychlo]

SWEET LIKE SUGAR | 03

summary; your first introductions don't go as planned, putting a dampener on some otherwise good news.

word count; 12,179

notes; y'all's patience for this has been incredible, it really has been a criminal amount of time since the last update. hopefully the next one comes sooner lol but enjoy!!

The many shopping bags dangling from your arms rustled as you hurried up the front steps of the new house you called home. Over a week had passed, a full week of your new life that was still taking some effort to get used to, and yet, things finally seemed to be looking up. 

Clutched in your hands, the most prized of every new acquisition you’d made today. No matter how many paper bags filled with new clothes and decor hung from your tired arms, the small bakery box with four cupcakes inside was by far the best. This time next week, you’d be serving the cupcakes. 

A real job, earning your own money, to pay your own way. 

It was almost shocking, just how quickly your life had changed, how right Azriel had been about it. Doors that would have been shut to you as soon as you registered the house to be billed to, the district you’d lived in, were all open now. Sneers and stares had been swapped for smiles and polite greetings, and although you hated that prejudice had existed at all, Azriel was right. 

You couldn't wait to tell him so. 

Clearing the final few steps and teetering up the porch, the door swung open free of latch or key when you twisted the doorknob. Azriel was home, then. 

You had hardly kicked off your shoes beside the door in your excitement, toeing it shut, when the voices from the living room finally met your ears. Your head was still spinning, nothing in you telling you to halt, or to consider just who the people Azriel might be meeting with were, before you were spinning around that corner, smile on your face, and coming face to face with the High Lord and the Commander of the Court’s armies. 

Their gazes moved to you, Azriel’s back to you but he finally turned to look over his shoulder, the room falling silent as all attention moved to you, and your throat bobbed at the weight of it. Cassian shuffled on the couch, and Rhysand only adjusted the angle he was perched at on the arm, to look further around Azriel at you. His stare was piercing, assessing, and you found yourself shrinking under it a little, clearing your throat and dragging your gaze to your housemate. 

“I’m so sorry for interrupting. I’ll come back later, Az. I’ll just head upstairs.” Your palms were sweating, but it didn’t feel right to just ignore the other people in the room, not when their presences alone were so powerful they practically filled it. Setting down one arm’s worth of shopping bags and the boxes of pastries carefully, you padded to the centre of the room, holding your hand out halfway between them. “High Lord, General. My apologies, again. It has been an honour to meet you both, though.”

Neither moved, both just stared, your arm trembling for just a second as the moment dragged on, and neither moved to shake your hand. After too many silent seconds, heat rose to your cheeks, and you pulled your hand back, stepping backwards a couple of steps. Perhaps it had been too informal, perhaps you’d offended them in some way, but when Rhysand gave a huff that sounded displeased, you were sure it wasn’t just you sensing the tension anymore. 

“An honour, I’m sure.” The High Lord muttered, your eyes widening a little, gaze shooting to Azriel as he stepped up to your side, slipping the other bags from your hands as that one began to shake too, and setting them down with the rest. 

“Rhysand!” Azriel snapped, a tone in his voice that you’d never heard before, and the shock of it only sent another bout of anxiousness coursing through you. “Be polite.”

His brother only shrugged casually, like he’d been asked the weather forecast, and picked at one of his cuticles, bored. “I am being polite. As polite as I can be, anyway.”

It was a lie, thick and heavy as that penetrating violet stare found you again. You’d heard the rumours, about how charming the High Lord of Night could be, and this certainly was not him. You tried another smile anyway, and shied your gaze away from the Lord to the General. He didn’t return it, only crossing his impressive arms over a powerful chest, his size a terrifying display, only made worse by his own glare. 

Clammy sweat began to bead along your back, and you shuffled a little closer to Azriel’s side. His arm pressed to your own, the back of his palm brushing yours as it hung at his side, and it was enough comfort to at least take one deep lungful of air, before your ruler spoke again; “What is it that you want?”

“Huh?” It was impolite, and informal, but you were confused, the sound tumbling from you faster than you could stop it, and you only winced at the slight tensing of the man who’d asked it. His companion only snarled at your accidental impertinence. 

“Cass…” Azriel growled back, low and under his breath, his fingers threading gently through your own. You clung to him, so tight you were sure you’d cut off blood flow, your knuckles likely white, but you needed him to anchor you right now. 

“What, Azriel?” The tension was so thick it was stifling, you could hardly breathe. Your muscles were wound tight to stop your whole body from shaking, a nervous response, and yet somehow, you still felt like you were going to shatter at any moment. “You got yourself a fucking sugar baby! Excuse me for being concerned about what she actually wants from you!”

“She is not a sugar baby!” Your head spun, your body swaying a little, and you could’ve cried merely at Azriel’s defence of you. You could cry right now, anyway. Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth, every word forming too slowly in your head to stand up for yourself, to even understand what was going on. Thinking alone merely felt like wading through treacle, right now. 

“So, you didn’t give her the money for whatever is in those shopping bags, then?” Rhysand waved a lazy hand at your purchases, your face flushing once again, and Cassian raised a brow in a challenge, both standing united against Azriel in their questioning. Against you.

Yes, technically, you supposed Azriel did pay, but—

“That’s what I thought.” Rhysand sneered, cutting off your line of thought, and Azriel growled once again, a deeper sound, a more predatory warning. “Stay the fuck out of her head, Rhys.”

“My head?” Your squeak was embarrassing but you were too overwhelmed to care. Rhysand only scoffed, brushing invisible lint from his shoulder while Cassian rolled his eyes. Your stomach was rolling over, and you felt like the very air was being squeezed from your lungs, emotions clogging and stinging at your throat. Under their watchful eye, you’d never felt so small, so insecure, so powerless. 

“Picture a wall building around your mind.” Azriel’s voice had softened, his breath brushing over your hairline, and you wanted to turn to him, to sink into his honeyed gaze where you knew you’d find a friend, in hopes it would calm the visible full body shakes now, bring you back into your own skin. But, you couldn't look away, feeling like you were stuck on the High Lord, unable to even move. “Picture it. Don’t focus on anything else, brick by brick, build that wall. Keep building it, thicker and thicker. Work on it until they leave, I’ll explain later.”

A jerky nod was the best you could manage, and Azriel left a kiss on your temple on confirmation as you mentally laid down the first few bricks. 

“This is none of your business.” His voice hardened again, and you lost focus, cursing yourself mentally as you lost it all, the wall crumbling to dust in your mind’s eye. You could feel it, then. Feel that presence, the one that made you feel like you were being pushed out of your one body, the cramped feeling. 

He was there, embarrassment flooding you at how flawlessly he witnessed your internal struggle. He didn’t even try to prove at your thoughts again, just watching you struggle from inside your own mind, like it was nothing to him at all. 

Grasping Azriel’s hand with your other, clutching it in both now, he flexed his fingers reassuringly to you, and you tried again to do as you’d been told. One full wall, and when Rhysand finally looked away from you, you were able to snap your mind to the carpet, staring at the floor by your bare feet instead. 

“It certainly is my business. If she’s manipulating you, we’re all at risk!”

Your flinch at his shout was unstoppable. You were so wary of his powers, so frightened of Cassian sitting on the couch—

“She should be wary of my abilities, she should be terrified of Cassian!” His gaze turned back to you when you looked in horror, and you could feel the faint trickles of his horrid amusement as you realised once again you’d lost focus, lost that wall. You blinked back tears, unwilling to sink that low before them, to fall any further in their eyes. 

In your peripherals, Cassian’s arms uncrossed and he shuffled, but you were locked once again, having made the mistake to look at Rhysand again, and being unable to move away. Shadows twisted at your legs, your arms, your joined hands, drifting off of him in cool and calming waves, binding you to him, comforting you silently. You moved your attention back to that wall once again. 

“Whatever she did to you, Az, tell us! Whatever she’s holding over you, we can get you out of it, we can help you!” The warlord only grunted his agreement, shattering your focus with a single sound. And so, you started again. 

Silence. Silence dragged on longer this time, longer than any moment before. 

Azriel’s wings ruffled as he pulled them in closer, his hand tightened around your own. “It was my idea.”

“What?” They both spoke at once, incredulous and unbelieving. But you dragged in a shaky breath at the shift of power in the room, just for a split second, as he cough them off guard with his declaration. 

“It was my idea,” Azriel said again, with that lethal, icy calm. Azriel tucked you a little closer to him, a little behind his body, shielding you from them with a wing. “It was my idea to walk her home that night, it was my idea to bring her back here. It was me who convinced her to stay after she found out who I was. It was me who took her into my bed. It was me who made the offer.”

Silence, again. You’d once loved silence, now, you hated the way it felt like it was crawling across your skin, burrowing into the cracks and seeping through pores. 

“It was all me.” 

That statement settled over the room, only seeming to heighten everything, until you were sure the sound of your heart pounding was drawing out everything else, even the bustle from the streets outside. Finally, Rhysand snarled a sound of utter disgust. 

“This is ridiculous, Azriel! Can’t you see that?” Azriel did not deign to reply, and when the room became stagnant, the air almost unbreathable, it seemed the conversation had come to an end. Standing and sliding his hands into his pockets, Rhysand took a few steps closer to you both. Azriel tucked you further behind his back as Cassian followed. “Fine. Do as you please, Azriel. Let’s see how the rest of the family reacts at dinner on Saturday.”

With little else, Rhysand stalked past, not even bothering a sigh in your direction. Meaningless, inconsequential, nothing. That’s what you were to him. Cassian lingered, and you dared not to look up this time, before hearing him follow only a second later, the front door slamming shut behind him. Two sets of wings took off into the air a second later, and as they went, the heaviness in the room seemed to be sucked right out with them.

When the beating of wings finally faded, Azriel dropped your hand, spinning to you. Your face was cupped in two warm hands, guided up to meet his panicked gaze, and you still felt a little numb, shaking yourself out all the way down to your fingers, as if to regain control of your body. 

“I’m so sorry. Fuck, that was awful. I didn’t want you to come back to that, that’s not what I wanted to happen at all. I’m so sorry about them. Are you okay?” Azriel’s rambling came with a tremble to his own hands, and he leaned down, brushing a delicate kiss across both of your heat-stained cheeks. Sliding your hands up to cover his on your face, you finally nodded. 

“Your friends don’t seem to like me very much.” You finally choked out, voice raw like you’d been singing at the top of your lungs for hours, or screaming over a crowd, and Azriel gave an equally raspy laugh. His only response was sliding his hands to your waist, and tugging you into his chest, a tight embrace. 

“I don’t know why.”

“It’s okay.” You sighed, burying your face into his chest, feeling the siphon under his clothes pull with a power. “It makes sense. They think I’m using you.”

“They didn’t even let me explain! They just assume I was weak enough to let a beautiful woman manipulate me. It makes me feel like they don’t trust me, at all.” Your heart fluttered at his words, even if they were spoken with rage and anger, they still held sweetness for you, and you squeezed him once more, before stepping back from his arms, just a little.

He was all but shaking with rage, and you rolled onto your tiptoes, leaving a kiss to match the ones he’d given you upon his cheek, and he tried his best to give a small smile. It looked more like a grimace, but you appreciated it nonetheless. “Let me show you what I bought today, would that cheer you up?”

“Yes.” He mumbled, but finally came a genuine smile from him, even if it was tiny, it was something. 

Scooping up the bags for you, you were left only with the small bakery box, waving it lightly in your hands as he carried your begs further into the room and placing them beside the coffee table. “This is a little treat for us later, I hope you have a sweet tooth,”

Azriel shrugged, lips pressed shut, and you were sure a soft pink was forming on his cheekbones. “I like sweet things.”

Your eyes narrowed on him a little, closing the space between you both until you were pinching his cheek, his blush deepening as he scowled, pushing your hand away when you giggled. “Oh, so tough. Big bad spymaster, I bet you love desserts and pastries and sugar.”

“I like it a normal amount.” He deflected, catching your other hand by the wrist when you lifted it to his other cheek, and pinning them both at your sides. The scowl melted into a smile, despite how hard he tried, and your grin only stretched wider. “Oh, shut up. You should be grateful, if I didn’t like sweet things so much, you wouldn't be here!”

It was your turn to blush, your jaw dropping a little as heat crawled over your face. He raised both hands, pinching your cheek and shaking your face side to side. When you slapped his hands away, he only laughed. 

“Not so fun, is it?”

“Shut it, shadowsinger.”

His grin only got wider, and he reached for a bag, swiping up whichever his fingers found first and holding it out to you. Taking it from him after putting down the pastry box, you opened up the paper bag, peering inside at whatever you’d purchased. Fishing out the first item, you presented it to him, his brows crawling up. 

“Table mats!” 

“Table mats?” He repeated, taking the bundle from you and tugging lightly at the twine string holding them shut. The set of eight opened up after the strings came loose, and he examined each one. A lightwood mat, with the mountain range of the Night Court carved into the surface of each one, clean and beautiful polished wood under his fingertips. “I like them.”

“Yeah?”

You could only smile, pulling out the next item, one that matched. “Good, because I also got matching coasters!” On each coaster, one mountain sat with the three stars carved over the top, the crest of their Court, and he rubbed his thumb across it. “They’re perfect.”

“I also bought some mugs!”

“I have mugs.” You only scoffed, beginning to root through the bags on the floor beside the table until one clinked, the cups and saucers inside. 

“You have… very simplistic mugs.” His arms crossed over his chest. 

“Because they’re plain white and aren’t weirdly shaped?” Producing the mugs and saucers, his lips pressed together to conceal a laugh. “What are those?”

“Mugs and saucers!”

“Saucers are supposed to be around, not square! And why are the mugs striped?” He took one from your hands, inspecting it closely. “A mug is a functional item, why does it have a quote painted on the front?”

He turned it around, forcing you to look at the words across the front, the exact reason you’d chosen it, and your answering beam seemed to answer his question. 

“‘I’m not arguing, I’m just explaining why I’m right’. Really?”

“Now look at mine!” You handed it over to him, yours with blue polka-dots instead of stripes, and he gagged loudly as he read the words. 

“‘Follow your dreams, they know the way’? That’s awful.” He threw it, the mug bouncing across the couch cushions, and you caught it just before it could fall to the floor, loud bursts of laughter spilling from your lips as he shook his head. “You can’t live here anymore. You have to get out. Right now. And take your terrible mugs with you.”

“But there’s more!”

“More?” He groaned, loudly, head tipping back, and when you leaned in to jab at his shoulder, he grabbed your arm, tugging you closer. Your squeal was lost to laughter as he pinched at your side instead, stealing your intended attack and making you squirm, checking him with your hip as he did it again, an inch higher. “How many more will you inflict upon my poor cupboards?”

“I got four in total!” His assault stopped after the third pinch, your back to his chest as his arm banded around your body, holding you there until the giggles faded. “I promise, I have other stuff, stuff you’ll like.”

“How can I possibly trust your taste, now?”

“I’m here with you, aren’t I? I must have reasonably decent taste, at least.” The pinching started again, until you squirmed away to the floor, gasping for breath and kicking at his ankles as you swiped for the next bag. “You’re a menace!”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just see the next bag.” 

Despite his insults of your mugs and plates, you couldn't bring yourself to care, because that tension had slipped out of his shoulders once again, and he was smiling. Smiling like he’d never known a trouble in the world, smiling like nothing had gone wrong today. As he sank to kneel before you on the floor, you fetched the next bag, setting it between your bodies. 

And so, the next several hours followed, the world melting away as you went through each purchase, showing Azriel everything from new candles that smelled like pumpkins and spices, to a throw blanket for the bed, to a new set of notebooks and pens. 

Your new clothes had been folded and set in piles, and you left Azriel to wash and put away your ‘interesting’ kitchenware as you carried your new clothes up to your drawers. You’d never owned so much in the way of lovely clothes, the fabric and weaving market of Velaris were like nothing you’d ever seen before. 

When you reemerged, Azriel was standing in the living room, hands on his hips and staring at the floor. His brows were furrowed a little bit, all the empty bags had been picked up and were now sitting in a stack in his armchair, the considerable number threatening to topple over. He looked a little overwhelmed, rubbing a hand across his jaw, and your lip caught between your teeth as you stepped into the doorway. 

“Is it too much?”

“What?” His hand returned to his hip from his jaw, as his gaze moved to you. 

Waving a hand idly around in a motion of the house, you gave a small smile. “Everything I bought, is it too much?”

His eyes widened slightly, before he was making his way across the room, shaking his head. He stared for a second, frozen in motion but you could see the thoughts flicking through his eyes, before finally, he gave a heavy sigh; “I’ve never had matching mugs with someone before. My chest is tight.”

Your thoughts halted for a moment, a vulnerable look on his face as you studied him, his fingers twitching by his sides anxiously as he held your stare. Rubbing a hand over his chest for something to do, you took his hand in both of your own, rubbing your thumbs across the back of his palm. “That’s so cute, Az.”

“It’s cute?” His cheeks were growing redder by the second, and you squeezed his hand, “It’s pathetic.”

“It’s not pathetic! I’ve never had matching mugs with someone either.” He only rolled his eyes, but his fingers finally curled around your own. 

“It’s not just the mugs. The mugs are a metaphor.” That furrow was back between his brows, the blush spreading down his jaw, and you rubbed that crease softly with one finger. 

“I know. I’ve never had the metaphor, either.”

Silence fell between you both, and Azriel’s blush finally went down, until he no longer wore that expression, but was relaxed once again. His hand tightened around yours, tugging you forward, through the living room. “I laid out the rug.”

“The rug?” Your gaze fell to where he’d been standing, the new woven rug made from the softest materials you’d ever encountered was now laid out beneath the coffee table, centred perfectly before the chairs and the couch. “My rug. That was for my room.”

“What?”

“The rug, you don’t have to put it down here. I don’t want to change your whole house, Az. I just bought a coupla’ things, things I thought would make you chuckle, like the cheesy mugs.”

“But it looks so good here.” With another step, he was on the rug bare feet digging into the threads, and tugging you forward, too. Toeing off your shoes, you copied, toes digging into the soft rug, copying the little steps he was making in the plush material. “I want you to put your little touches all over this place if it makes you happy.”

Something inside of you turned to mush at that, and you looked down, seeing only the motions you both made as you shuffled across the rug, gentle laughter filling the space as you admired it. The day may not have been the best, but Azriel seemed at last a little more cheered. That lingering sadness underneath seemed to last, though. 

“Wanna’ go make dinner? We can have anything you want.”

He stepped away, leaving you to follow him as he made his way to the kitchen, and you almost had to jog to keep up with his long strides. “Hm, how about a cheese toastie?”

“A cheese toastie? C’mon, at least give me a little bit of a challenge!” Despite his protests, Azriel was before the fridge, pulling out a thick loaf of bread and several kinds of cheese, beginning to stack ingredients along the counter. 

“Fine, how about a cheese toastie and some soup?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, face a blank portrait and somehow still conveying subtle judgement, tutting under his breath. “Hey! I’ll have you know that making a good soup is challenging!”

“I’ll have you know, that I’m excellent at cooking, and I’m about to make you the best soup you’ve ever had.”

“Big claims,” You smirked, hopping up onto the counter and swinging your legs, watching as he retrieved a large pot from the cupboards, adding some water and setting it to boil on the stove. “You sure you can handle it?”

“You just watch me handle it.”

Your tongue stuck out, his matching it, and laughter filled the kitchen as he set to work. As Azriel chopped, sliced and peeled the vegetables, adding seasoning and spices, you set to work on slicing the bread and cheeses. When it was done, he retrieved them from you, stacking the bread and fillings up, and finding a pan to start grilling. 

“Make yourself useful and go lay the table.”

“Make myself useful?” A single swat to the arm, and Azriel was grinning to himself as he stirred the soup. “You are the one who keeps telling me that you’re the chef, I would be helping if you’d let me!”

“And now I’m letting you. Letting you set the table. You’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome, yeah, whatever.” You mocked, tugging open the cutlery drawer, gathering cutlery and plates, laying them out on the table. Glasses of water followed, and then you were back, peering over Azriel’s shoulder as he flipped over the two toasties, melted cheese dripping from the edges and making your mouth water. “Smells good.”

“Hm.” He grabbed for another spoon, scooping some out of the bubbling soup, and turning. Holding it up to your lips, all teasing was gone, and you parted your lips, letting him push the spoon between them slowly. Pulling it back, he waited as you swallowed, considering the flavour. “Good?”

“Really good.”

“Yeah?” Pink touched his cheeks at your confirmation, and his private smile was hidden as he turned his back to you, back to the food. “I’m glad. Go sit down, it’s almost ready.”

You did as told, propping your hand on your fist as you sat in your seat, watching him move around the kitchen, plating up your dinner. When it was ready, he sat across the table from you, eagerly waiting on his food as he waited for you to try it once again. 

Reaching one hand out across the table, palm facing up, you offered your hand to him, in the space between you both. Hesitating for only a second, Azriel slid his rough and calloused fingers over your own, holding on gently when you curled your hand around his. He stared, rubbing his thumb slowly over your knuckles as he turned your hands atop the surface, and shook his head softly to himself. 

“Eat up, Az. You’ve had a stressful day.”

He only laughed, a cheeky glint in his eye as he peered up at you through his lashes, shoulders softening further. 

No matter how far they softened, tension easing out, it was never gone entirely. Not as you sat and ate dinner together, not as you shared the pastries you had for dessert, cutting each treat in half and sharing every thought. Lingering underneath it all, in the way his smile never fully extended, or his shimmer dimmed a little too fast, you could tell the weight of the day was still dragging him down. 

He’d insisted on cleaning up, and so you’d stood side by side, him washing and you drying, the quiet eating at the space in between you both until it was too much. So, you’d filled the space by talking, and Azriel had listened to every senseless whim and joke you’d had to say, walking beside you to your bedroom door, before bidding you a quiet goodnight, and disappearing into his own. 

Only one shadow had lingered, brushing across your cheek before trailing in tendrils with the others, which were wrapped tightly around his body. Like a protective shield, or a safety blanket. As you changed for bed, every movement felt heavy, the air was heavy with the lingering emotions of the day, and you could almost taste his guilt and self-loathing in the air. 

You’d all but paced a hole in your floor as you wandered up and down thinking about it.

It didn’t feel right to leave him, but you weren’t sure of where those boundaries lay, what your limits were. If Azriel wanted company, he could’ve asked, but he didn’t exactly seem like the sort to reach out. He was the quiet, brood-in-solitude type. You had no idea what to do to help.

You were still considering it as you silently approached his bedroom door. There was a light still on, flickering dimly as the flame danced, just enough of a soft glow to perhaps be a single candle. 

Before you could back out and turn around, a single shadow snaked under the threshold, curling around your ankle, swarming quietly and securely, like a message. Before you could second-guess again, your knuckles wrapped twice against the door, the shadow darting back underneath.

A gruff noise of acknowledgement from inside welcomed you, and you stepped into the room. Feet near-silent against the carpet, the shadows were back, a wisp of cool touch around your bare calves, brushing all the way up, and stopping respectfully at the hem of your nightgown. 

Instead of venturing further, they shifted to your arms, following your every motion as you closed the door and began padding across the room toward him, feeling the twist and dance of them up your arms.

As you reached the edge of the bed, he lowered his book, a single jerk of his chin bringing his shadows darting back to him, smoothing into the creases of the bed and the shadows on the floor, all but disappearing sneakily once again. Sitting up further, he patted the space beside him, and you crawled up across the bed to kneel by his side. 

He waited patiently as you settled, your heart racing in your chest as he welcomed your company. Your comfort. You hadn't thought it through this far, what to even say to him, but only one thing came to mind;

“I got a job today,”

His eyes widened almost comically, brows shooting up his forehead, and his jaw dropped. For a heartbeat, two, he was speechless. “You got a job?”

“The desserts we had? They came from The Star Crossed Bun Bakery, and you’re lookin’ at their new waitress!” He let out a cheer, arms reaching out to drag you over his legs and into a hug, your ass planted across his thighs as his arms wrapped around your body, squeezing you to his chest. Your head shook, giggling uncontrollably as he whooped. “Well, it’s no ‘spymaster of the Night Court’, but—”

“Do you like it?” He cuts you off cleanly, no longer smiling, a serious look on his face. “Do you think it’ll make you happy?”

“I do. I think it’s perfect.”

“Then who cares what it is? It’s the best job ever, if it’ll truly bring you joy.” The sincerity in his voice made you believe him, the honesty in his eyes only confirmed it, and you couldn't tear your sights away from his own because of it. Captive, you were locked in his gaze, the wide beam on your lips dimming to something more gentle, and his arms tightened around your waist some more as you looped one of your own around his neck for support.

“I’ll be able to pay you back for everything pretty soon.” Threading your fingers a little higher, into the hairs along the back of his head a rumbling sound beat through his chest at the scratch of your nails on his scalp. 

“I told you, I don’t want you to pay me back. That money I gave you was a gift, and you used half of it to buy things for me anyway, so it barely even counts.”

“If I don’t pay you back,” You shuffled, sliding a little further down in his lap as he crooked his legs up behind you. “Then your brothers are right, I’m your sugar baby.”

His smile dimmed a little as you looked up at him, but it didn’t leave completely, and after a couple of moments of quiet, he shrugged. “Then you’re my sugar baby. I don’t care what they think.”

“I care!” Your hand slapped loosely at his arm, and he only rubbed a hand down your spine, his face impassive at your protest. Your eyes rolled fondly, cheek going to rest on his shoulder as he continued to rub your back slowly. Shuffling the blankets down around himself, he pulled them free from his lap and up and over yours instead, his hand going to rest over your covered thigh once he was done. 

“Wanna stay and cuddle for a while, sugar?” 

“Oh, gods…” The nickname is an awful play on current events, but it makes him smile once again, and so you stretch your legs out and slump a little further across him as he relaxes back into the pillows, taking you with him. 

Smoothing your hands across the front of your dress, you gave a final nod to the mirror, unwilling to let yourself overthink it any further. The four other outfits discarded on your bed were proof enough of that. Swiping up a pair of simple black heels, a matching purse and a lipstick you’d yet to wear, you let the bedroom door click shut behind you as you left. 

Downstairs, you were finally learning the ways to navigate this house, you found Azriel sitting in his favourite armchair, a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. A mug of cooling tea sat on the coffee table as his legs stretched out to reach his feet to the new rug, book in hand. Placing down the purse and the lipstick at the table by the front door, you slipped one heel on, then the other, as you walked towards him. 

“When are we leaving? You’re not dressed yet.”

His head lifted, eyes focusing intently on your outfit as he took you in, a long and sweeping gaze from head to foot. A simple black sundress, nothing special about it, but as Azriel scanned right from the hem at your ankles to the liner behind your lashes, you felt special.

Holding out his hand, you took it, and he twirled you simply before him, a smile pulling on your lips as you moved in a circle before his seat. 

“Leaving for what?” He eventually said, dropping your fingers after running his thumb across your knuckles. “Why are you dressed up?”

“Family dinner!” His eyes narrowed. “It’s tonight!” His smile fell, lips pursing in a scowl, and he shook his head. 

“We’re not going to that.”

“But it’s your family!” 

“Yeah, and they were assholes. Besides, you didn’t sign up to deal with their shit.” His focus moved back to his book, and you took it from his hands, ignoring the sound of protest he gave off, sliding the bookmark between the pages, and putting it out of his reach. 

“I kinda’ did sign up for it. Wasn’t that one of the main points of our… agreement?” Leaning your thigh on the edge of his chair, he was forced to look up and meet your gaze. “To go to events with you, so you’re not alone.”

His frown only deepened. The sight of it made you want to rage, hating that expression on his face, and you sunk onto the chair, threading a hand into his hair like you’d done a day prior, playing lightly. 

“Besides, I’m going to have to meet them all eventually, Az. If they’re all going to hate me, might as well get it done in one sitting, huh?”

He only groaned, leaning forward to brace his forehead against your thigh, grumbling at your chuckle as your hand followed, back to his hair. Running one scarred hand over the material adorning your calves, he huffed out a warm breath against your leg. “You look so beautiful in your new dress.”

“Thank you.” Your heart fluttered a little at the pure tone of his voice.

“Are you sure you want to go?”

“I didn’t get all dressed up for nothin’. C’mon, have a little faith in me. I can handle it.” Another pass of your fingers through his hair, and he twisted his head, to rest his cheek in its place. “I’ve been practising my mental wall-building skills, I have to test them out.”

“Alright, alright.” He sighed, lingering a second longer before heaving himself to his feet with a whine, stretching his arms over his head and his wings out to their full spread, the display of them mesmerising as you watched them move. “Just give me five minutes to get dressed.”

As he passed by, he dipped, leaving a swift kiss on your cheek and dashing from the room, his footsteps becoming silent the further he got. There was a bashful smile on your lips, fingers reaching up to softly trace the spot where you could feel his lips, still tingling, as heat flooded over your cheeks in a wave. By the time you’d finally come around to yourself, it was to straighten up the cushions, carry away his mug to the kitchen and put the bottle of wine you’d spent half a day choosing out yesterday onto the counter. 

Using the mirror hung in the hallway, you were still applying your lipstick when Azriel, true to his word, arrived only minutes after departing, now dressed. He was attempting to smooth down his hair as he arrived by your side. Now donned in dress pants and a smart button-up shirt, all in black, he waved his hands over himself. “Now I match you.”

“Oh, please, you exclusively wear all black.” 

His answering smirk made your eyes roll, focus returning to the mirror to finish your lipstick application. “Fine, you matched me then.”

You scoffed. He only leaned one shoulder against the wall, crossing his ankles as he waited, watching you. That blush came crawling back. “Stop staring at me while I pout at the mirror.”

“It’s adorable.”

“Make yourself useful and go get the wine from the kitchen.” You finished up, tucking the lipstick inside of your purse and swiping a cardigan from the coat hooks, wrapping it over your shoulders before he returned. His brows were raised when he did, holding up the corked bottle in his hands. “What? I bought it with the last of my savings. It’s the best I could afford, but it’s still pretty good, I think. There were tasters at the winery.”

“Oh, so is that why you were so smiley and giggly when you came home yesterday? You were tipsy?”

His free hand landed on your hip, and your eyes narrowed on him. “I was not tipsy!”

“Sure.” He teased, your eyes rolling some more. You reached up, distracting him effectively enough by smoothing down the last of his untamed hair, hands settling on his shoulders. Beneath the buttons of his chest, a soft blue pulsed from under the fabric, and your hands smoothed down slowly to rest on that place. It hummed with warmth, the siphon underneath all but buzzing with the power it contained. 

A quick flicker told you the ones on his hands were there, nor were the ones on his knees, or his shoulders. “These are beautiful.”

He was quiet, too quiet, and when your eyes found his, he was staring with what you could only describe as awe. 

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…” His lips parted, but no sound came out, struggling to find his words for a moment, and you waited patiently for him to open up. “They mean something. I scare people, and they’re part of that image. You’re not scared of them? Of me?”

“Not one thing about you scares me, Azriel.” His grin told you enough, that your answer had found someplace deep inside of him, where it was needed, and he bowed his head enough to rest his forehead with your own. “Why are you wearing one tonight? You don’t wear them to bed.”

“Because I didn’t trust myself.”

“To do what?” You mused, his head finally rising, but his hand still squeezed your waist, sliding around a little further to band around your body. 

“Not to lose control if they’re unkind to you again.” It was your turn to be struck deep, and you knew by the bob in his throat that he caught the hitch in your breath. Silence fell between you both, a moment dragging on for eternity and yet somehow being over far too quickly, when he shook his head softly. You don’t know what he read on your face, whether it was the surprise or adoration, or none of it at all. When he spoke again, it was with a raspy voice, dragging like gravel; “Ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

He hesitated, only for a second as he pulled back, shadows wrapping tightly around your bodies while he waited for your nod of confirmation. Then, they coiled, blocking out all of the light and clearing only when the ground had fallen from your feet and been found once again. Before you stood the sprawling estate owned by the High Lord and Lady. If you hadn't known you were coming here, it would have been an easy guess. 

Casual grandeur, understated beauty but breathtaking nonetheless. Colourful flowers lined rows around the base of the house, the river rushing softly across rocks behind you, faelights casting a warm glow over the cobbled path leading up to the main house. Step after step, you walked beside Azriel, his hand a warm and grounding presence on your lower back, comfort in every swipe of his thumb over your spine as you made your way up to the house. 

As soon as the front door was opened, shadows darted in ahead of you both, instinct pulling them from the darkness to scope out every corner of the room before returning, nothing to report of the safe and familiar environment. Laughter was spilling out, every step further into the luxurious home carried that warmth and carefree happiness. 

The room finally came into view, a large wooden dining table, decorated with candles, wine glasses, flowers and baskets of bread, the members around the table spread out comfortably, and you checked off mentally who was here, based on what Azriel had told you. Lucien, Elain’s mate, was not in attendance tonight. Nor was Varian, Amren’s lover. Four empty seats sat around the table, which went silent, as all attention fell to your entry. 

 “You’ve got to be kidding me, Azriel.”

“What?” He pasted on a cocky look, masking the feelings you knew were roiling underneath his expression, his fingers twitching against your back. “You said come to dinner, see how the rest of the family reacts, so here we are.”

“I meant you alone,” The High Lord growled, and you checked those walls you’d been practising with were still intact, not failing to miss the snarl Rhysand let out as a cool feeling brushed over those barriers. Testing. Confused looks painted some of the faces at the table, looking between you both in the doorway, and the host sitting at the head, who looked as though he might actually burst from his anger. “This is inappropriate.”

Azriel pointedly ignored him, a slight pressure on your back nudging you forward, guiding you to two of the empty seats, pulling out the one beside Morrigan for you to sit in. Mumbling a quiet thank you, you sank into the seat, the incriminating stares laid onto you by everyone present only grew heavier when Azriel left a kiss on the top of your head in acknowledgement. 

Not one to be ignored, Rhysand let his words burst free, “You cannot just bring your sugar-baby to dinner with the family!”

“Oh, but you can bring Tamlin’s kidnapped bride?”

You felt your muscles lock up at that smoothly spoken insult, the temperature in the room dropping several degrees, and when you looked up, they were locked in a stare, glaring at one another viciously. 

Then Amren laughed, and you let it shake you back into motion, sliding the wine bottle out of Azriel’s white-knuckled grip as he moved to take his seat beside you. 

“Azriel.” The single word was growled, so low and threatening, and a burst of night-kissed power rippled along the table, shaking glasses and cutlery. “Feyre is my mate, it’s different.”

“Not really,” Azriel all but chirped, defiance on every word, and nausea rolled in your stomach that he’d act this way over you. He sat, and you reached out, placing a hand gently on his forearm, squeezing. He placed a hand over your own, but didn’t look your way. “She may be your mate, but at the time she was merely Tamlin’s bride whom you stole from her wedding, on her wedding day, on a fucking technicality!”

“I knew she was my mate, and she was begging for help!” He slammed a hand down on the table, the cutlery shaking and rattling again, and you squeezed Azriel’s arm. He squeezed back. “She wasn’t just some whore from the gods-damned pleasure house!”

At that, the room seemed to freeze over. Not even Amren laughed now, and you knew the weight of that one word. The word that Rhysand had been branded with, the slur that was muttered behind his back for so long after the events Under the Mountain, and your heart thudded painfully hard in your chest, nerves taking over. 

Their staring lasted for a second longer, before Azriel’s chair screeched back across the tiles. He stood, holding his hand out to you. 

“Stand up, sweetheart. We’re leaving.”

“What?” Your gaze moved from his gaze to his eyes, and he wiggled his fingers, expression softening every second he looked at you. 

“Az, wait, please stay.” Morrigan offered from your side. “I haven’t seen you for months, please stay.”

You remembered Azriel telling you that Morrigan had been away, he wasn’t even sure she’d be here tonight, she’d been on another continent playing the charming courtier for a while, and showing her girlfriend the bigger world. His eyes shuttered with regret and disappointment as he glanced at her. “I’ll see you another time, Mor. You should come over sometime.”

His hand dropped to your shoulder as his focus returned to you, squeezing lightly. Beneath his shirt, blue glowed so bright it lit up the fibres of his shirt now, straining to control his feelings. “C’mon, sweets. Let’s go home.”

“Azriel, please stay.” This time, it was the High Lady who spoke, all gazes moving to her as she effortlessly commanded the room. 

“Fey, I’m sorry.” Finally, regret leaked into Azriel’s voice, no longer that firm and cruel tone, but the one you were so familiar with was back. “You know I didn’t mean any insult by it. Coming here was a mistake, and we should go.”

Rhysand huffed at those words, agreeing with that sound, but his wife only shook her head. “You made a valid point, Azriel. You didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I was just Tamlin’s bride, and before that, I was just a poor girl who was hunting in the woods.” Her sights moved to you then, your heart freezing as you were acknowledged directly, “I would have done anything to get by, too.” She shrugged, offering a small smile that did more to comfort you than she might ever know. Then she cut a sharp look at her husband. “We do what we must to survive.”

“I’m fine, Az. We should stay.” He looked torn, whole body shuddering a little with restraint, but he eventually sank into his seat again, tucking himself under the table. Lifting the bottle you held up in the air, you hoped your hands were shaking enough to be visible. “We brought some wine.”

“We have wine,” Rhysand muttered, but snapped his fingers, and let two new wine glasses appear before you and Azriel, angry expression still on his face. A silent conversation of some kind seemed to take place between him and his wife, because, after a moment of sharp looks and flickering expressions, he sighed, shoulders slumping. He picked up a bottle of his own wine, however, making sure that the expensive label was facing in your direction as he poured it. 

Opposite you, the High Lady’s sister, Nesta, chugged her glass, finishing the near-full one off in one burst, and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand before holding the now empty glass out to you. “I love that wine, used to drink it all the time. Rhysand won’t buy anything that isn’t at least half as old as he is, but expensive isn’t always better. Can I get some of that?”

Perking up a little bit, your over-eager nod would’ve been embarrassing, if Azriel’s hand didn’t shoot out faster than you could react yourself, taking the glass from her and bringing it closer to you both. Placing it down with your glasses, he took the bottle from you, uncorking it, and pouring three glasses, before passing her’s back. You didn’t miss the grateful smile on his face for her offered olive branch, or her curt nod in reply. 

Dinner was soon served, by two wraith-like women by the names of Nuala and Cerridwen, who were silent as they moved through the room. Sat before you was a plate of some of the most decadent food you’d ever seen, a meal you’d rarely ever been able to afford to treat yourself to, and it was a simple weekend gathering for them. 

Several different sets of cutlery were laid out before you, matching forks and spoons and knives of different sizes, all presumably for different purposes, and the cloying knot of shame and embarrassment gathered within you as everyone else seemed to know exactly which one to go for, and you had no idea. 

A shadow swirled around one finger, before darting down to the cutlery, racing along a fork and nudging it just an inch to the side. Rhysand’s eyes were on you, you could feel the heavy stare as you picked it up cautiously, and the knife the shadow motioned you to as well, before offering a polite smile and digging into the food just like everyone else. 

Azriel glanced down, brow raising in a barely-noticeable tick to check on you, and your dip of a nod was good enough to encourage him. The conversation seemed to flow on around the both of you, but rarely ever ventured enough to include you. Azriel would talk more often, occasionally a question was darted in your direction, but never anything that required more than a one or two-word answer. 

The plates were cleared and you were a little relieved to have made it through, trying not to slouch in your seat, or do anything else that would only add to the bad reputation you’d already managed to be burdened with. 

It was only the first course, a shock that came when a second, much larger plate of even more expensive and exquisite-looking food was placed before you. Shadow’s signalled you in again, and your half-drained wine glass was refilled, shared between you and Azriel with what was left of the bottle you’d brought. 

The once sweet wine practically tasted sour in your mouth now as you plastered on a smile to get through the next stage of this evening. You weren’t here to have fun, though. You weren’t here to be liked, even if it would have been nice to make some friends. You were here to support Azriel, to give him the comfort and company he needed. 

The more you looked around, the more you could see what he meant. The High Lord and Lady were not shy about their affections, practically curled into one another the entire time, touches frequent and sweet words murmured. Morrigan had been talking with Nesta for almost thirty minutes about her girlfriend, who must’ve been one of Nesta’s friends, and her mate was just as attentive. Cassian had eaten half of Nesta’s starter, what he hadn't gotten himself she’d fed to him with a smirk and kissed away any traces, even going so far as to lick the corner of his mouth when she thought nobody was looking. 

Amren was silent and stealthy, reading her book and talking to nobody. You were sure if Varian had been present, or Lucien for Elain, it would have been even more unbearable. No wonder he was willing to extend such offers just for some relief. 

Reaching out and placing a hand on his forearm, he jumped slightly, his cutlery clattering on his plate as his head whipped to you. Eyes a little wide as you trailed that hand down, he unfurled his fist a little, gaze never straying, as your hand closed atop his palm. With a squeeze, his lips flickered at the edges, a slow blink offered, before putting down his knife and turning his hand over to hold yours properly. 

All eyes were on you, you were sure some looks dirty, but it didn’t matter. You were looking at him. At the smile he wore, the warmth creeping back in at the edges of his expression, the gratitude and the affection and the kindness. The Azriel you were so familiar with. 

Somehow, just reaching for him, made the rest of dinner easier for you too. 

It didn’t matter that nobody spoke to you for more than a minute or two, because you were far too distracted by the feeling of his hand in yours. 

It didn’t matter that the dirty looks and double-edged questions never quite ceased, because when Azriel left a kiss on your temple and smoothed his hand over your hair after the plates had been cleared, your mind was practically empty for several moments.

It didn’t matter that you felt out of place, because with your head on his shoulder, and his cheek atop your crown, you’d never felt more at home. 

Dessert was finally served, a decadent-looking chocolate cake and a round of coffees and teas, that made you grateful the meal was finally drawing to a close. It took all of your strength to pull away from Azriel, to sit properly once again to appreciate the cake before you. 

“So, where were you living before…” Nesta waves her spoon idly around the room, before plunging it back into her dessert and taking another mouthful, “All this?” 

“Before I met Azriel, or before I came to the Night Court?” You raised a brow, and she smirked around her spoon, shrugging. Azriel swiped his thumb across your knuckles, drawing your attention to him momentarily. He was staring at your collapsed hands, sitting before him on the table and watching his thumb moving slowly across your skin.

“Both.” Was all she gave, intrigue covering her tone. 

You squeezed at Azriel’s hand, his attention snapping to you, and you raised your brows, a silent question if he was alright. He only nodded, letting that small smile touch his lips for a brief moment. “Well, before I moved to the Night Court, I was travelling, mostly. I wasn’t settled, I was trying to find where I wanted to set up some roots, and then I heard all about the Court of Dreams, and it sounded perfect for me, I always felt a little out of place at home.”

“So, when you arrived here, you just stumbled across our lovely shadowsinger?”

“We kinda’... stumbled across each other, I guess.” You squeeze Azriel’s hand again, his smile directed at the table this time as he squeezed back, before shuffling his chair an inch closer to your own. “We met in… well, I’m sure you’ve heard where we met, how we met, that whole tale, already. I was living in a shabby little apartment, and he did not like it very much.”

“Your place was atrocious, it should have been condemned.” He muttered, and your giggle at least made him smile, a one-shouldered shrug when Nesta rose her brows. “Seriously, Nesta, it made your apartment look like this place.”

He’d said a variation of that exact same thing to you already, the teasing scoff tumbling from your lips, pinching at his arm, and he jumped in shock, but did not take back the allegation. Instead, he only picked up your hand, eyes glittering a little as he kissed the back of it, diffusing any taunts you might have been building and melting them to utter mush. 

“That bad, huh?” She chuckled, crossing her arms as she leaned back in her chair, utterly satisfied with the meal that had been provided. As you were, so full you could barely function anymore, on some of the best food you’d ever had. 

“Whatever you’re picturing, double it.” Azriel groaned, sending a ripple of soft laughter between the three of you. 

“So, what do you do now? I’m assuming not working at the place you met.” A loaded question, that was for sure, and you felt Azriel tense up beside you. The other chatter around the table seemed to quiet down, all attention falling to you now, and you cleared your throat before speaking up;

“I just got a new job, at a bakery-café in the market square.” In your periphery, you caught the sharp glance Azriel cut to one end of the table, a pointed glare to serve words he didn’t need to speak, before pulling his focus back. “It’s called Star-Crossed Bun, have you ever been?”

She let out a groan, eyes closing and head falling back as she patted her stomach. “I love Star-Crossed Bun, they make these little caramel cupcakes that are incredible. The girls and I go every week after training, on Fridays.”

“Perhaps I’ll see you in there, then!”

She only hummed, her gaze sweeping over you in a suddenly assessing way, and you wondered what had gone wrong. The conversation seemed to be flowing so well, it almost seemed like you’d made at least one friend at this dinner, and now her focus had turned from lazy and relaxed to sharp and calculating. “Have you ever held a sword before?”

“No. I think I’d drop one, or take off some of my own fingers if I even tried.”

Another hum. Another calculating stare. “You should come to training with us. I think Emerie and Gwyn would love to meet you.”

“Oh?” Your heart felt like it skipped over a beat, a grin coming back to her lips, her features softening again, and she shrugged. “Like… your sort of training?”

“You don’t have to be a warrior or anything, or come all the time. We could even just show you some simple self-defence. I think you’d like it, and you’d get to meet some new people in this court, and make some friends.” 

“That sounds amazing, I’d love to!” Another squeeze from Azriel, before pulling your hand closer to his own, wrapping his second one around both of yours, and smiling to himself. “When is it?”

“Oh, well, Thursdays are cardio days, but Cassian and I are there every day. We train at the House of Wind, just show up whenever you can.”

A bolt of ice struck through you, tension filling your body once again, and that horrible sinking feeling of knowing something had been too good to be true froze over inside of you at the mention of the commander beside her. “I’ll let you know. I’m not too sure how I’d get there, I can’t rely on Az to winnow me everywhere.”

You tried your best to keep your tone light, to brush it off casually, and hopefully find a different way to bond with her. She’d mentioned the caramel cupcakes you could surely see her at the café, or bring some to the next dinner, perhaps— “Is it because I said cardio? Because if you come on Thursdays, I can make cardio fun, I swear!”

Your laugh felt empty now, and Azriel sat up a little straighter beside you, ready to speak. “It’s not the cardio, it’s Cassian. He terrifies her.”

The smile dropped from Nesta’s face, and she sat up straight too, her eyes narrowing as she glanced between you and Azriel, and her mate. “What?”

“No, no. That’s not it at all—”

“When you go full ‘Commander of Death’ on someone you’ve never met before, in their own home, while someone else picks through their brain like it’s a toy basket without even introducing themselves, it’s a little scary.” 

“Azriel!” Your snap was harsh, a heaviness falling over an already silent table now, as both the culprits seemed to have moved their attention to their brother, the rest of the guests merely watching with curiosity. 

“Sorry. I just…” Azriel heaved a sigh, slumping down in his seat until the tips of his wings were brushing the floor. “It wasn’t fair. You did nothing wrong, and it’s been bothering me since that day. You fucking hid behind me, in your own home! You looked more scared than the night we met, and you made me promise not to murder you.” A nostalgic smile brushed his face for half a second, an apology for his outburst already shining in his eyes when he looked at you fully. “You can’t expect me to just let that go.”

He was concerned, worrying beginning to stitch into his features, and even though he’d opened up about how you felt without your permission, you knew it wasn’t with bad intentions. He just wanted to protect you, and above all, that made you feel far more for him than irritation. “We’ll talk about it later.” You whispered, and he only nodded, leaning in to place a soft kiss on your forehead that left you blushing. 

“You don’t have to train with Cassian.” Nesta only gave a brutal look in Cassian’s direction, who at least looked a little sheepish at the accusation, but any time you looked at him, all you could see was the scowl, the look in his eyes as if he’d kill you, and like it. “I mean, he’ll be there, but I’ll make sure he’s nowhere near you. And I promise, he wouldn't hurt you, even if he looks like a brute. I hope you do choose to come, I’d really like to see you.”

“I think you should go.” Azriel’s whisper was just for you to hear, and when you turned, his face was close to yours, so close you were almost cross-eyed to look at him. “She’s right, Emerie and Gwyn would like you a lot.”

“I’ll winnow you up sometimes too, if you’d like. So you don’t feel like you’re always asking Az.” When your eyes, and everyone else’s, moved to Mor in shock, she only finished off the red wine in her glass and shrugged. “Oh, please. Some people are being so melodramatic about all of this. Besides, Emerie would give me shit if I got home and told her I hadn't offered, anyway.”

“So it’s settled. You’ll come to training this week, give it a go.” Nesta smirked, and you guessed she might be used to getting her way by now, if the sparkle in her eyes was anything to go by. “Just one little trial session.”

All eyes were on you, even Azriel, and you caved with a sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Okay, fine. I’ll be there.”

Nesta beamed to herself, cheering lightly, and Cassian gave a gruff chuckle as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. Averting your gaze towards Azriel as he now stared longingly at your cake, it was your turn to laugh. 

“Would you like the rest of it?”

“Only if you’re not going to eat it.” Even as he spoke, though, he was lifting his spoon again, “We can share it?”

“Sure.” You confirmed, and he took off a chunk of it, offering it to you first. You almost accepted, but the thought of letting him feed you felt far too intimate in a room full of people who hated you. 

His eyes narrowed slightly, and then he nodded, settling further back in his seat and dragging the plate to sit between you both. 

When that plate was finally clear, Azriel didn’t hesitate to finish off his wine, slouching back into his seat as far as his wings would let him, one stretched out behind half of your chair, too. His hand reached out, settling on your elbow and shaking you gently from the conversation you’d been listening to Elain and Morrigan have about the former’s gardening crop this summer. 

“Are you ready to leave?” He offered, fingers flexing on your arm before sliding away.

“Are you?” 

“Yes. I’m…” He glanced around, shrugging when Cassian’s focus lay solely on him, and clearing his throat to speak a little louder. “I’m tired, I’d like to go home.” 

“Thank you for staying, Az.” His High Lady said, voice as delicate as ever, and her tone dipped far closer to professionalism than friendly as she moved to you. “Thank you both for coming.”

“Thank you for having us. The food was lovely, the company even more so.” You matched her tone, a smile and a glance around the table without truly meeting anybody’s gaze. Azriel stood, extending his hand to you, and taking your purse in his other. Standing with him, Azriel dipped halfway into a far more dramatic exit, waving a hand cordially. 

“It’s been a pleasure. Shall we see you next week?”

The question hung like fog in the air, blinding and disabling, and Rhys’ jaw ticked as he considered it. “If it makes you happy, I suppose we will be.” He finally ground out, expression as tight and sharp as it was polite. 

“If we don’t have plans, we’ll be here.” It was Azriel’s wicked way of lighting the tension, and even Rhys offered a chuckle, finally ending their stalemate, even as he rolled his eyes. He waved a hand at you both, and Azriel’s ran along your back, shadows clouding you in, your breath held until you were finally back in the familiar corridors of Azriel’s home. 

The breath slipped free with a heavy sigh. Putting down your purse, you turned toward the coat rack, not making it very far before two hands were settling on your shoulders, stilling your movements. In the hallways mirror, you could see Azriel behind you, wings tucked in tight, shadows bustling like busy streets, chaos as he took half a step closer. He lowered, forehead resting on the back of your head, after leaving a kiss there.

“Are you mad at me?” Azriel asked, peeling your cardigan down your arms slowly, the warmth of his body leaking into you from behind, and you could only give a soft laugh. As he hung it up on the coat hooks, you turned to face him, still closer to his height as you balanced in your heels, arms looping easily around his neck. 

“I’m not mad at you.” He sighed again at that, his hands coming to rest on your hips this time, pulling you a little closer, until you could practically feel the pulsing of the siphon beneath his shirt, mimicking a heartbeat. “I just don’t want you making enemies of your family over me. I can defend myself, and you don’t have to pick between them or me.”

He didn’t respond, only leaning in to give another sweet kiss, this one to the tip of your nose. Running your hands over his shoulders and down his arms, thick muscles were taut and lined with lingering tension once again.

“Why don’t I make us some tea, and bring it upstairs for us? We can sit and read for a while.”

“I’d like that.”

Using him for balance to kick off your heels before letting him go, he padded away through the house as you made your way to the kitchen. Once the water was set to boil and you’d chosen a relaxing brew for the evening’s choice, you took your time to prepare for bed yourself.

A tray with two steaming mugs on and a jar of honey later, and you were carrying it slowly through the house towards the bedroom, shadows flickering along, crawling in the tight corners of the walls as you walked. 

By the time you were nudging your way through Azriel’s half-cracked door, he was just settling in at the cushions of his bed, glancing up to watch you set the tray on the bedside table on the opposite side. 

“You’re not in bed yet.”

Not a question but a statement, and he only shrugged, peeling back the covers on both sides of the bed, and crawling in himself, spreading his wings to sit comfortably. “I was just thinking about stuff, is all.”

“Are you okay?” He gave a hollow laugh, rolling his head slowly on his shoulders to look at you, accepting the mug you held out to him with a quiet thanks, sniffling the steam that came off and loosing a breath filled with worries. 

“I should be asking you that after tonight. I never should have taken you there.”

“In case you’ve forgotten, it was my choice to go. I had to convince you to take me, so you’re not allowed to carry the guilt of it all.” He notched a brow a little higher, blowing on the surface of his tea, and amusement flickered over his features. Just what you’d wanted. 

“I’m not allowed?”

“No. If anyone is going to take the guilt, it's me. It's mine. You can’t have it.” You offered him the honey, only to receive a small shake of his head as he sipped the first taste, and you loaded a spoonful into your own. “Are you okay, though?”

“Are you?” He countered.

“I’m fine, Az.” He didn’t look like he believed you, only staring, like he’d be able to read right into your soul. Putting down your mug, and taking a bracing breath, you laid a knee on the mattress, then another, inching across the bed before swinging a leg across his own. His eyes went wider, watching as you settled yourself into his lap, sitting on his thighs. “Give me your hands.”

“My hands?” He offered them anyway, throat bobbing in a series of swallows as you took them, rubbing your fingers across his palms slowly. 

“Azriel, look at me.” His brows dipped, and you set his hands onto your hips gently, his fingers flexing there. “Really look at me. See that I’m okay. I’m stronger than you think. I know you want to look after me, and it makes me so happy that you do. Nobody has ever wanted to look after me before. But that made me strong. I’ve always been looking out for myself, and I want you to know that. Trust me. I can handle more than you think.”

“I do trust you.” His voice cracked, and he sat up further, hauling you up his body until his chest was almost pressed to your own, his arms slipping around your back. “But there’s something. Something that makes me… I want— I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy, Azriel. I’m happy, and I’m okay. I’m great. If that changes, I’ll tell you.” Settling your hands on his cheeks, his eyes shuttered, leaning a little further into your touch.

“You will?” 

“Do you want me to promise it?” 

He chuckled, dragging his hand up your spine, to cup the back of your neck, where the promise-brand you’d once sworn to him for all of twenty minutes had once sat. “No, I don’t want any more of those on your skin. Not even to me. Don’t make a promise unless you have no other way. If they’re not worded right, you can be held captive by someone until they die, or you find a way to fulfil the impossible. Don’t do it.”

Leaning in, your forehead rested on his own, and he tipped his face up a little, eyes closing. “Do you want me to promise to make no promises?”

Bubbling, bursting laughter ruptured from him, his body jolting under your own as his face fell to your neck instead, bunching you into his body to hold on tight. A deep, throaty sound that was irresistible, your laughter joining in. “You’re a goddamn menace, sugar.”

“Gotta’ keep you on your toes somehow.”