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yuriwritestwst · 2 years

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Casual Touches

Despite his cold and calculating ways, Azul comes to realize that you make him very nervous but also very happy; wherein you make physical contact with Azul, and each time is a new realization for him.

notes: spoilers for book 3, Azul x gn!reader

Exactly one week before exams, Azul wakes up just after an hour of sleep, but despite his exhaustion, he’s nearly brimming with excitement. After all, there was nothing more profitable than students desperate to pass their classes, and who would he be to ignore their struggles? His study guide that he had poured months into was freshly finished, edited, and priced so that the Mostro Lounge would be flooding with money very soon. All he had to do now was to get ready for class and play the pitying man’s act, contracts in hand.

He makes eye contact with you in the hallway, and with a scheming grin, he all but saunters over to you, the Leech twins following ominously behind. You’d be scared if this was your first time, but after countless supposedly random encounters with Azul, you’re pretty much used it by now.

“My, you’re looking awfully stressed over there,” he opens, feigning a look of concern.

“Stressed, but not nearly as worn out as you,” you respond almost immediately.

Azul pauses before he can even bring up the topic of exams and frowns. He was a man of routine, and like he did every morning, he always made sure to check his appearance before heading out. Today, too, he was sure that he looked presentable as always.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“It must be hard staying at the top of our class and keeping the Mostro Lounge running,” you comment, disregarding his previous statement. This time, it’s your turn to frown. “I hope you get some proper rest soon.”

Without skipping a beat, you reach to brush a stray strand of hair away from his face, fingers lightly grazing his skin. It’s almost tickling, and it takes everything Azul has in him to appear blasé despite the chill that runs down his spine. It’s an incredibly brief action, but he swears your fingers linger for a lot longer than they should (they didn’t).

“I have to get to class now, but I’ll catch you around, Azul. Maybe try taking a nap later?”

And with that, you’re dashing off to the room down the hall, leaving the house warden speechless and hand still inside his school bag where his contracts are. If he weren’t frozen in place, he’d surely reprimand the snickers and giggling from the two eels behind him, but he’s still short-circuiting.

Even so, he realizes with horror, he can’t say that he disliked feeling like this.

In normal circumstances, Azul doesn’t really care for others watching him during flying class. He’s a new land-dweller having only gotten used to using legs and feet for a little bit over a year. So what if he can’t figure out how to control a broom? He’s from the Coral Sea, and what didn’t they do down there? Fly.

“You’d think you’d get the hang of at least floating upright after all this time,” Vargas sighs, shaking his head.

“I promise you it’s my broom’s fault,” Azul replies rather pettily. “I’ll have you know that I can float perfectly fine on my own.”

“Yeah, in the water,” Vargas scoffs. “Well, at least try a bit today. It’d be a shame if you were caught flying left and right upside down when the first years come out.”

“What?”

“The other class is coming to this side of the field today,” Vargas explains, clearly not considering it a big deal. “I hear they’re redoing the lawn where they usually have class.

It is a very Big Deal to Azul, though, because for some reason, when he sees you walk out in your gym uniform with Grim and your magic broom in tow, he finally has the decency to feel shame for not being able to fly. His sea-related excuses instantly dry up, and he’s suddenly thinking about every single way possible to get out of class before you spot him, because he definitely was not going to successfully fly 50 meters today. Or ever.

“Go down,” he mutters under his breath, but his broom ignores him like usual. It doesn’t help that he’s getting more nervous by the second, palms growing clammy as his broom continues to spin him upside down. “Just for once, will you-“

“Azul!” he hears you shout.

The merman physically jolts and falls onto the ground without a single shred of dignity. His broom, as if to gloat, zooms away. He’d have to find it later, no doubt, but he’s more concerned about looking like an absolute fool. Luckily, he isn’t hurt and quickly adjusts his glasses so that they aren’t askew. Aside from the minor dirt stains, he’s fine.

“Are you okay?” you ask, running over to him.

“I meant to do that,” he says quickly. Anything for that shred of dignity back.

“I’m sure you did.” With a roll of your eyes, you pull him by the arms up onto his feet. “Can you walk okay? Does it hurt anywhere? Let’s get you to the infirmary.”

He says nothing. His brain is doing the weird short-circuiting thing again as he stares at your hands around his arms. What the heck.

“Did you hit your head?” you ask worriedly when you’re met with a blank stare and no response. “Wait, can you stand properly? I’ll go call Coach Vargas over and-“

“N-no! I’m fine.” He doesn’t even have time to mentally kick himself for the stammer. Instead, he clears his throat twice, breathes in air to straighten himself out, and takes extra care to make sure that his shoulders look much less tense than they actually are. “My name is Azul Ashengrotto. Today is a Tuesday, and I’m in second period, which is flying class. See? I’m completely fine.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, still concerned. “Azul, I think you’re shaking-“

“It’s just the adrenaline!” he denies immediately, all but ripping his arms out of your grasp. “Now if you excuse me, I need to fetch my broom. I’d hate to take up your precious class time, too.”

He storms off, face feeling hot, much hotter than when he was working up a sweat earlier. He said he was going to find his broom, but frankly, he doesn’t even remember in which direction it took off too. All he can think about are your hands and the way they grasp around his limbs. It was delicate but firm, and he finds himself thinking that he almost felt comfortable like that despite the disaster that led up to it.

“Ashengrotto, what are you doing wandering around? I told you that you needed to be upright in the sky by the end of class today, not on the ground-“

“Broom,” is all Azul can manage, head full of other scenarios where he’d much prefer you grasping onto him. For example, on the way to class or perhaps on a weekend in town. He nearly trips over himself when he realizes what he’s fantasizing about, and over a single casual, meaningless contact at that too.

He thinks he must be going crazy, because what the heck.

Azul overblots and the aftermath is equal parts horrifying and humiliating for him. Horrifying because he could have died, but he considers it not that daunting after realizing that he has 1) lost all his contracts 2) exposed his merman form, and 3) thrown the biggest tantrum known to man in front of his entire dorm. It’s extra salt to the wound when he’s taken to the infirmary at the behest of Jade and is all but interrogated on what had happened by the healers there.

He lies on the infirmary bed dwelling on mostly these three big things overnight along with other concerns eating at the back of his mind.

As much as he hates to admit it, he feels drained, physically, mentally, and emotionally. He’s left with no other option but to start at a blank slate again, and he finds it so devastatingly frightening. How could he go back and face the rest of the Octavinelle students? Would he even have the prestige of housewarden when returning? What did he really have now?

He hates uncertainty but is even more peeved with the fact that he knows with definite confidence the answer to his last question. Absolutely nothing.

“Azul?” a voice calls for him and snaps him out of his thoughts. He blinks, looking at the orange-red sky outside. He’s not sure if it’s early in the morning or late in the day. Either way, he’s still not quite back in top shape, and can only murmur something incoherent as a response.

“I hope you’re feeling better.” He turns to his side, eyes meeting yours. “I guess not.”

“Thanks,” he groans sarcastically before falling into heavy silence. He doesn’t know why his throat suddenly goes dry when he sees you. He knows he has so much to say to you, and to everyone else at that, but it gets stuck in his throat.

“I, um, got notes from your lectures today for you,” you offer rather awkwardly, setting some papers on the nightstand next to him. “I figured you wanted to stay updated, so take a look at them when you feel up for it…if you want, of course.”

“I see.” It’s a murmur again, and he looks at the papers to your hand that is now laid idly by your side. He takes a breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah,” you say, smiling rather sheepishly. “I know. We all know.”

“I’m so sorry,” he says again, pain contorting his voice. So much to say, so few words falling out.

“Azul-“

“I can’t even offer anything to fix it,” he continues, struggling to speak. “I have nothing left. Nothing.”

Azul is, by nature, a crier, and he hates it so, so much, because once he starts, he can’t stop. That and the fact that his tears are dark black ink. It’s a mess, and he’s a mess, and it hurts when he’s forced to confront this truth in front of someone else. Embarrassing, shameful, always the same, unchanging Azul Ashengrotto.

“Oh, Azul,” you say, carefully wiping his tears with a tissue.

The tears bleed through, of course, and upon seeing your fingers stained with ink, he clumsily pulls away, opting to use his nightgown instead. He thinks you’ve given up on him at this point, because who wouldn’t feel disgusted, but when he feels a firm tug, he’s confused and panicked.

“W-wait,” he protests, resisting your pull. “I’ll ruin your uniform-“

“I can get another one,” you reassure, gently pressing his head onto your shoulder with one hand and rubbing circles on his back with the other. “You just looked like you needed a good hug.”

He’s tense and awkwardly presses his face into the space near your neck. Azul’s not even sure if he’s crying anymore or if he’s been shocked into silence, but his hands start feeling the same cold clamminess they did when he saw you at flying class.

Needless to say, it’s been a long time since he’s been held like this, or even ever, and he certainly doesn’t know the rules to embracing and if they differed between acquaintance and lover. His arms mechanically wrap around your back, because that’s what he has seen other people do and he figures mirroring your actions would be his best bet. He startles when you laugh.

“Azul, you can relax.” Your voice, like everything about you, he realizes, is warm and comforting. “Don’t think too much about it.”

How could he not think about it, he wonders in near delirium, when he feels one of your hands gently card through his hair and scrape his scalp. He feels nervous, but in the best way possible, and after what feels like hours of apprehensiveness and hesitancy, he sinks into your touch. He doesn’t remember the last time he’s been this unconcerned about how he presented himself in front of someone, but when he breathes, he finds himself relaxed, unburdened, and at peace. For now, he thinks he'll settle for an apology and silence, and tomorrow, he'll figure out what it is that he exactly wants to say to you.

And when you promise to walk him back to Octavinelle after he’s discharged, you give his hands a squeeze, and somehow, he knows that everything will be just fine.

Azul has friends, and even though the Leech twins are rather unique, he knows that perhaps he doesn’t act like friends with you. Sure, he knows that some friends are more touchy with each other, be it kisses on the cheek or linking arms. He knows that Friend Behavior varies widely and that he shouldn’t be overthinking your touches as anything more than that.

While he hates uncertainty and ambiguity, he also is admittedly too shy to ask you out properly. He likes you for sure, and everyone can see that, but he’s scared to confront the fact that perhaps you considered the two of you simply as friends.

But when he wakes up for the first time in your arms from the most peaceful sleep he’s ever had in his life, his mind starts to reel wondering if spooning is also Friend Behavior.

“Good morning,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his forehead like you usually did when the two of you were alone. Casually and as a Good Friend, of course.

“Good morning to you too,” he responds, cheeks tinted with red before snuggling closer into the crook of your neck to hide his face. His blush reaches to the tips of his ears, though.

“Should we get up?” you ask, mindlessly caressing his head and neck. “I know you’re busy all the time.”

“…5 more minutes,” you hear him mumble and it sends you into giggles, because even Azul, a man of rigid routine and schedule, could act like this on a Sunday morning. “Why are you laughing?”

“Nothing,” you hum, delighted that you can practically hear the pout in his voice. His heart flutters. “I just like you a lot, that’s all.”

“So, can we date?” slips out of his mouth before he can even stop it, and he instantly stiffens when he feels your hand stop at the top of his head. He’s done it now, he curses. There goes everything he’s ever wanted. Why was he like this?

“Are we not already dating?” Confusion laces your voice, as he abruptly pushes himself off of you, eyes wide as saucers.

“We’re what?” he practically squeaks out, shaking. His hands grab the sheets of his bed, knuckles white. “When did this happen?”

“Azul, we cuddled all of last night during our date, and today, I woke up with you in my arms in your bed.”

“That was a date?!”

“Azul, when I asked if I could kiss you, and you said yes, what did you think that was for?”

“I- I don’t know! I thought you just picked up something from Vil! You know, as a friendly greeting?” he panics, still reeling from the fact that he went on a date without even knowing. Sure, to some, maybe cooking you dinner and watching your favorite movies all night while hugging may have looked like a date, but who was he to assume?

And sure, maybe when you asked him to bathe with you last night, he should’ve suspected something, but who is he to be weird about it when he’s been the one in water with other people for most of his life?

“You kissed me on the lips!” you nearly shout, and he wants to crawl inside an octopus pot because he feels so stupid. “Vil only does cheek kisses, too!”

You try your best to hold in your laughter, but it spills out, and through all his humiliation, Azul still thinks it’s one of the most wonderful sounds he’s ever heard in his life.

“Fine. In case it wasn’t clear already, Azul Ashengrotto, I love you so much. Can we date?” The last part is said teasingly, but he can only react by grumbling before sinking back into your arms.

“Yes, please." He’ll come up with a better way to respond later, perhaps when he calms down, but for now, he settles with his clumsy self and the feather-light kisses that cover his forehead.

(“So how many dates have we actually had?” Azul manages to ask as he’s whipping up breakfast and has come to terms with the fact that neither of you had been doing Just Friends activities for a while now. The realization takes him longer than expected, but hindsight is 20/20, and he wears glasses.

“Probably more than I can count,” you giggle, arms wrapped around his waist as you watch him chop up ingredients for an omelet. He groans apologetically. “But that’s okay because we can start all over right now.”)

#twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #twst imagines #azul x mc #azul x yuu #repost #azul’s a dork #azul x you #twst x reader

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