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acourtofwhatthefuck · 6 months ago

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Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part IX

Summary: Deciding to accept Azriel's offer, Reader's world as they know it is about to change. In more ways than one.

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Word Count: 8.5k

Warnings: Some suggestions of smut and heavy petting, but nothing too major!

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Azriel stared out of the huge wall-length windows of the River House, watching shadows move in the sunlight that bathed the estate.

He hadn’t been to bed.

In the mere hours since he’d left the human realm, leaving Y/N, their conversation and his offer behind…his mind was too crowded to sleep.

So he’d come to the River House, wind still clinging to his skin and clothes from hours of aimlessly flying, and found his family gathering for breakfast.

“Where have you been?” Cassian had asked him.

“Just flying.” Had been Azriel’s explanation. The questioning looks he’d earned in response had told him they all suspected something more was going on with him.

And how right they were. He didn’t know why he was being cagey, why he couldn’t just be open with them about the human woman who had utterly captivated him—

It was scary, he supposed. To step out of the bubble they had around them, just the two of them.

But if Y/N did agree to come across the Wall with him…it was time to be open, honest.

As if on cue, a kick landed on his shin. Amren.

“Cassian is supposed to be the absentminded one, shadowsinger,” she drawled. “Are you present?”

Cassian grinned at the jibe. “Someone’s grumpy because she’s hungry. Poor baby.” His eyes slid to Azriel, ignoring Amren’s glare. “Our miniature friend is right, though. What are you daydreaming about?”

Azriel became acutely aware of every present pair of eyes on him. Rhys’s. Feyre’s. Cassian’s and Mor’s, Amren’s and Elain’s. If Nesta had been present, she’d probably have stared, too.

Az cleared his throat, shifting in his seat. Never comfortable with so much attention on him. “There…uh…”

Rhys frowned, realising, at once, that whatever this was held weight. “Az?” he angled his head.

He must have been pale, because Feyre frowned and asked, “Azriel, are you well?”

He didn’t know why he was fumbling this so much. Perhaps because for all he loved his family, for all he’d stared centuries down with them, his feelings were things that he’d always kept tightly locked away, and they had respected that. If he wanted them to know something, they would know. If not, they wouldn’t ask. It was how it had always been.

But this was different.

He was serious about Y/N, and his first step in proving that was to tell those closest to him about her.

He cleared his throat again, bracing his arms on the table. “There’s something I want you all to know.”

“We all know you have the biggest wingspan, boy,” Amren speared a slice of melon. “It’s hardly breakfast conversation—”

“Amren.” Mor cut her off brusquely. She was staring intently at Az. Could tell this wasn’t the time for jokes. “Go ahead, Az.”

Azriel clenched his fists at his sides. “I…I have fallen for someone,” he swallowed a lump down, far out of his comfort zone. “I’ve fallen in love with someone. A woman. A human woman.”

Silence.

The faces of his family gazed back at him, a mosaic of expressions varying from surprise to confusion to the twitching of baffled amusement. They were waiting for an explanation, or some indication that this was a rare, random joke that Azriel had decided to crack. And Az found that he couldn’t bear them considering that. He squared his shoulders, the severity not moving from his face.

“Her name his Y/N,” he continued, heart thudding in his chest. “She hails from a village in the human lands, and she’s magnificent. She helps run her father’s inn. She plays piano stunningly…” stop talking, stop talking, stop talking. Facts were just spilling from his lips, dumping themselves on his friends. He clamped his lips shut, squeezing his hands together again.

And once more, silence.

Until Cassian peered closely at him and stated, “You’re not joking, are you?”

The shadowsinger shook his head. “No.”

Rhysand’s chair creaked as he sat up straight. “Well…how did you meet this woman?”

“When you sent me to the human lands to get an idea of the unrest there. I heard her playing piano late at night and I…I went back to hear more. And I kept going back, despite you telling me not to. I’m sorry for going against your order, Rhys, but I’m not sorry for the reason that I did.”

The High Lord and Lady shared a glance, clearly communicating mind-to-mind. Az wasn’t sure he wanted to know what they were saying.

Mor cleared her throat, coaxing Az’s eyes to her beautiful face. There was kindness there, warmth. “And you say you love her, Az?”

“I do, Mor. Since I first met her, I’ve fallen harder and harder.” His cheeks burned a furious red. “I can’t deny that that is what I’m feeling. And that’s why I want to share this with you all.”

The initial shock seemed to dissipate a little as shoulders around the table relaxed. Mor smiled broadly, and Cassian quickly followed.

“No way,” the Illyrian General chirped. “That’s amazing, Az.”

“We’re happy for you, Az, of course,” Feyre added. “Just a little surprised.”

“You should bring her here to meet us,” Amren grinned, flashing white teeth. “If she can hack it.”

Her remark was as close as she would come to congratulating Azriel — but the sentiment was there, hidden amongst the words.

Of them all, Elain was the only one who hadn’t spoken.

And Az…Az, for some reason, avoided looking at her.

“Funny you should say that, Amren,” he quickly said. “I’ve invited her to come here tonight, after she’s closed up the inn. I want her to see Velaris at night, in all its brilliance.”

“So we’ll get to meet her,” Mor grinned wider. “This is great—”

“If—if she’s available to come, that is.” The shadowsinger quickly cut in.

Because he had to be realistic and still consider the possibility that Y/N would reject his offer. And if that was the case…well, he couldn’t bear to think of it right now.

He certainly couldn’t bear to share that particular detail with the others. Not just yet.

“Well,” Rhys offered a smile, “if she is available, we’ll be delighted to meet her, Az. Really.”

“Yes,” Elain’s voice, soft and unconvincing, finally drifted around the table. “We will.”

At the same moment, Azriel’s gaze drifted to take her in. She looked…shocked. Perhaps a little perturbed.

But for what reason? She and Lucien were giving things a go. Shouldn’t Azriel be able to do the same?

He tore his eyes away from her, dipping his chin in quiet acknowledgement of her comment. That was all he could offer right then.

“I hope she comes,” Feyre commented, sipping her drink. Her voice was bright, enthusiastic.

“So do I,” Azriel agreed.

Gods, he really did.

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Ale sloshed over the lip of a tankard, joining the smattering of droplets that were already coating the floor and making it sticky. The rowdy men in your line of sight didn’t seem to notice the mess they were making amidst their rowdiness. They’d been here a good few hours, now. Their eyes had long turned glazed, their speech slurred.

It was all background noise.

Background noise, as you stood behind the bar, staring into space. Time was ticking by, the clock hands crawling steadily closer to when Azriel would arrive and wait for you with hope.

Ten o’clock chimed. Two hours to go. Were you going to join him? You weren’t sure. You’d been contemplating it the entire day, on so few hours sleep. You’d gone through the motions, done your jobs, been that normal, plain young woman who was in charge of The Bluebird Inn. You’d compiled pros and cons in your head, the list of them growing with each thought.

Pros and cons, however, seemed not to come into a situation driven so heavily by desire.

You wanted to believe Azriel so badly — believe that he was good. Was it so out of the question that such a thing could be the case? It didn’t diminish what you had seen out on the road with your father, but…

But after weeks of no contact, having Azriel close enough to touch last night…it had you hoping, once more, that both things could be true. That the world was not so black and white, and there was colour out there, a world of colour that Azriel could fly you right into—

Before you realised what you were doing, your hand was grasping the bell behind the bar. You tugged at the rope, causing a distinct ringing to cut through the arrogant raucous of the men.

“Last orders!” you called.

Every pair of eyes swivelled to blink at you. “What?” One man asked.

“Last orders,” you repeated.

“But it’s only ten o’clock! You don’t close until midnight!”

It was an effort not to roll your eyes. This group had been here since they’d stumbled in from their day’s work. The idea of cutting their drinking short was inconceivable to them.

But you were going. You were going to join Azriel, and go across the Wall, and experience things you’d never experienced, whether it was a good idea or not.

“I’m closing early tonight,” you gave a shrug.

The brute that had been spilling ale all over the floor gaped at you. “Why?”

Good question. You couldn’t exactly tell them the truth, and if this was going to get back to your father, you at least needed a valid excuse—

“I’m unwell,” you tried unconvincingly. “Sorry.”

Swine-like eyes narrowed on you. “You don’t look unwell, girl.”

“…It’s my cycle.”

A silent pause. And then, in an instant, every man in the room was on his feet. You tried not to smile in triumph; it worked every time.

They couldn’t leave quick enough, as though, if you truly were on your cycle, it was somehow contagious. You saw the last customer out of the door and bolted it shut. Waited until their chatter disappeared into the distance before you turned and began a frantic cleanup mission.

This was…mad. Truly, thrillingly mad. A reckoning of sorts, you imagined, because crossing that boundary from one realm into another was like sealing a fate. There was no coming back from this — this, that was not merely dipping your toe into the world of the fae, but submerging yourself in it, taking a deep gulp of air and disappearing beneath its surface. A nerve-wracking prospect, but…also an exciting one.

And didn’t it prove to you that you still trusted Azriel at least a little? You had to, surely, to be so willing to take his hand and let him pull you into the unknown.

Perhaps…perhaps you were tired of having that little bit of doubt. Tired of wondering what might be out there, beyond your meagre existence. This trip would surely put those doubts to bed, one way or another.

Two hours until Azriel’s arrival seemed both too much time and not enough at all. You filled it with your usual closing duties, making quick work of tidying up and making sure the inn was spotless. Afterwards, you would ordinarily spend some time at the piano, or simply retire to bed. Tonight, your feet carried you upstairs to get ready.

You combed your hair and changed your outfit choice too many times, not once recognising the girl who stared back at you in the mirror. She was somebody bold and daring — somebody willing to question what she’d always known.

And you wanted to be her, no matter the fears twisting your stomach.

Once ready, there wasn’t much time left to wait. You quelled your nerves by knocking back a glass of whiskey and welcoming the burn. Your eyes stayed on the clock. Eleven-thirty. Thirty-five. Forty. Fifty-five.

When you heard the distant chimes of the village clock announcing midnight, you felt that familiar sensation of awareness. Like an ember under your skin, it burned, and it spread.

You wiped whiskey from your lips and slipped out of the door, stepping into the courtyard. You were cold, despite the warm night.

And even colder when you felt the gust of air that came from a descending figure, landing feather-light in front of you.

Azriel was almost too beautiful to bear.

You stared at him with an intensity you couldn’t keep a lid on. And he stared back at you, took in your shirt and breeches, your braided back hair, your shoes. He clocked within a second that you were dressed to go out — a breath of relief forced its way out of him.

“You’re coming?” he breathed, and then shook his head, seeming to remember his manners. “Sorry. Hello.”

You swallowed. “Hello.”

He paused. Dared a step closer. “I half expected to find you in your nightgown. Or to not see you at all.”

“I…contemplated it. Not coming, I mean.”

Another step. “And what tipped the scales in my favour?”

You sucked in a breath, inhaling his scent. He was close enough to touch, now, and the smell of wind mixed with his natural aroma, creating a dizzying concoction that, for a moment, had you forgetting how to speak.

You shook yourself out of it, blinking a few times. “I think I’m tired. Tired of…only knowing what I’ve been told. I think it’s time I saw things for myself.”

Azriel’s broad shoulders seemed to relax a little. A beat passed of heavy silence, heavy eye contact. He stared at you like you were the only person left in the entire world.

And then you jolted just a little, as cold, scarred fingers touched yours in a light, tentative brush. He waited to see if you would pull away.

You didn’t.

Those fingers explored more. Wrapped around yours. Laced with yours. And then Azriel was holding your hand in his.

“Let me share my world with you,” he whispered.

Maybe it was the weight of his hand, or maybe the raw pleading in his tone. Whatever it was…you knew you didn’t need any more time to consider.

“Yes.” Was all you managed to respond. “Yes.”

Just like that, Azriel was yanking you closer, pulling your body flush to his. You waited to feel your feet leave the ground, for him to lift you into the air.

It took you a moment to register that his arms were winding around you tightly in an embrace. That it was a hug he’d so fiercely pulled you into.

He held you, both firmly and gently, his chin pressed to the top of your head, his hand cradling the back of it. You were stunned, stiff as a statue — but then you were sinking into his hold and welcoming its security, its…passion.

“I can’t tell you how relieved I am,” Azriel murmured, pulling back to gaze at you. “Truly — thank you. For trusting me with this.”

“I haven’t made any decisions yet,” you pointed out. “I just want to see for myself…if what you’re saying is true.”

But even as you spoke, you knew it wasn’t that simple. Heading across the Wall with Azriel was sealing a fate far bigger than you’d stopped to consider. Whether you were ready for it was anyone’s guess.

The shadowsinger took your words in his stride, nodding. His hand found yours again. “Shall we go?”

You were really doing this. The idea made your head spin.

But you did not pull away. You did not run back inside, no matter how much a tiny part of you screamed at you to do so. Perhaps you were stronger than that now.

“Yes,” you nodded, and braced yourself. “We shall.”

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Flying was precisely as you remembered — exhilarating and terrifying and cold. The night sky eddied past you in a star-streaked blur, and you were soaring, hurtling forwards towards a world unknown.

You and Azriel did not speak. He seemed content to leave you in your thoughts, though you felt his gaze on you more than once, drinking you in. You couldn’t help wondering what he was thinking. Whether he deliberately chose to press you firmly against him and rub soothing circles into the small of your back, or whether it was a subconscious thing.

You closed your eyes at one point, focusing on the feeling of the chilled wind on your face.

But it was another feeling that had you suddenly alert. Opening your eyes again.

It was hard to explain, but…something like a staticky charge crackled and sparked. You knew that the Wall was not a physical thing to behold, but rather an invisible barrier…yet somehow, you knew that was what you were feeling. Like a huge sign in bold, screaming at you: TURN BACK. DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER.

“I can feel it, too,” Azriel spoke into your ear, as though he’d read your thoughts. It was the first words that had left him since he’d carried you to the skies, and they were soothing and warm against you. “It’s the magic. Those who built the Wall abhorred the idea of humans and fae alike crossing over. I think the feeling it offsets is supposed to repel people.”

You held onto him a little tighter as the feeling grew stronger. “Clearly it doesn’t work.”

“No.” His eyes found yours. “Not when there are such enticing reasons to cross.”

You were thankful that the wind put a stop to the furious blush that crept up your neck. You stared forward, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you, and you knew that you were about delve into another realm.

“Ready?” he murmured, before that charge thrust its way through your body like a bolt of lightning.

It was brief and yet nauseating. Your stomach lurched, your head spinning. And then, as if clearing fog, it was gone. You had the distinct feeling of being someplace completely alien — a place where the grass was greener, the scents richer. A place where magic was the blood in its veins, snaking through the ground beneath you and breathing vibrant life into the land.

But you had barely a chance to take in your surroundings before Azriel was coaxing your eyes back to him.

“Now that we’re in Prythian,” he said, seeming to visibly relax, “I’ll winnow us from here.”

You gave the briefest glance to your surroundings — a forest so like the many in the human realm, and yet also something more. The thrum of dangerous life seemed to lurk just beneath its surface, and with the moon bearing down on you, you didn’t much like the idea of waiting around to see what might emerge from the dark. You dipped your head into a nod, and Azriel’s arms tightened around you.

But before he could make a move, you were speaking, stopping him in his tracks. “There’s something I don’t understand.”

He paused, head angling curiously. It made a few dark hairs slide across his forehead, and the urge to reach out and touch the silken strands was a burning one.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“You want to show me your home, but why show me at night time, when the world is asleep?” Besides the fact that this was the only time you could sneak away from the prying eyes of villagers.

But Azriel’s mouth seemed to lift into a subtle, beautiful smile. One that was telling — but telling of what?

“Velaris does not sleep,” he said, and then you were disappearing into starlight.

A brief burst of darkness that lurched you from place to another. The feeling of both flying and falling, of being nowhere and everywhere all at once. And then your feet were suddenly on solid ground.

You didn’t realise you’d closed your eyes until the sounds hit you first. Distant music, mingled with crisp laughter. The sounds of enjoyment, fulfilment. You snapped your gaze open to put a picture to what you were hearing.

You went so preternaturally still, you could almost be mistaken as fae.

You must have been perched upon a viewpoint, to see the city in its entirety like this — but not too far up to miss the details. Restaurants teeming with activity both inside and out front, gatherings of customers who talked and smiled and laughed without a care in the world. Vendors selling their wares despite the late hour, peddling anything from food to wooden carvings to flowers. People wrapped in each other’s arms and dancing merrily to a song that a young female strummed on a lute in the busy street.

If not for the dark blanket of stars above your head, you could be forgiven for thinking it was daytime. Your shoddy little village was never this bright nor light, no matter the hour on the clock.

This was Velaris, and it truly did not sleep.

You stared and stared and stared, for so long that your vision began to blur and smear the lights below into swirling shapes. It was almost easy to forget you were alone, just you observing this beautiful, seemingly perfect world. But a hand touched your arm.

“Would you like to take a walk?” Azriel asked, coaxing you to look at him.

Such palpable hope sat within his gaze that you couldn’t bear to look away. And when you nodded your agreement, that hope shifted into damn near elation.

The city seemed to welcome you into its arms as you began a slow stroll right through the heart of it. Azriel gave you your space, always remaining a few paces away. You could have sworn, in your periphery, that you caught him clenching his hands now and then, as though he didn’t know what to do with them. As though all he wanted was to reach out to you.

But he left you to acquaint yourself with the sights and sounds and sensations of Velaris. Never had you been amongst so many fae, and you half expected them to sniff out your mortality, to turn and stare or even make a grab for you. If they noticed you were not one of them, they paid it no mind, barely casting you a glance. Some of them greeted Azriel cheerily as they made merry and socialised. Not a drop of misery seemed to taint the blood of this living, pulsing place.

You came to a stop on a grand bridge that arched over a glinting river, its waters stretching further out than your human vision could comprehend. Only a moment after you leaned against the carved balustrade, Azriel was emerging in your peripheral vision, stopping beside you and mirroring your stance.

You could feel his gaze on you. And after a moment, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

A slow, stunned shake of your head was all you could manage. That was a question that had many different answers. You weren’t sure which one to give.

But you found yourself turning to him, your brow pinched, lips parted. “I don’t understand how any of this works. What…what is this place?”

Velaris, obviously — you knew that much. But was the entire fae realm like this? Was this what had been hiding on the other side of the Wall in the centuries since it was established?

Azriel seemed to think on your question for a moment, combing through his answer. He angled his body towards yours, the way his hands twisted around each other hinting that he was…nervous.

“When I took you flying the first time, I mentioned that Prythian is divided into seven courts,” he explained slowly. “Spring, Summer, Autumn, Winter, Dawn, Day and Night. Do you remember what else I told you?”

How could you forget? You’d turned it over in your mind enough that the words had begun to fray at the seams.

“You said you’re from the Night Court. That you’re part of the High Lord’s inner circle. You’re his spymaster.” Your gaze swept around. “So this is the Night Court.”

Azriel dipped his chin. “It is. But it’s a city in the Night Court. A secret, guarded city. There’s more out there than just this.”

“Secret and guarded? Why?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you that felt as long as the winding bridge. You found yourself focusing on the ebb and flow of the water beneath you, watching its languid dance. Until warm fingers landed on your arm.

The touch — tentative and gentle — coaxed your gaze back to Azriel. You studied him, drank in the sincerity and openness on his face. This was hard for him, you realised — to be so forward, to bare all. He was, perhaps, as guarded and secretive as this city itself. Perhaps more.

But his soft hazel eyes told you that he wanted to push through that difficulty. For you.

“It’s secret and guarded,” he answered huskily, “because it is beautiful and good, and the entirety of the Night Court is not. The entirety of Prythian is not. There are other places like this, of vibrancy and love and light, and then there are places of pure, evil darkness. Places that I would never dream of you venturing. They exist as truly as the good places do. As Velaris does.”

Once again, your eyes took in the area around you. On the other side of the bridge, a couple were hunched over a table, in their own world, sharing quiet words and quick kisses. A few buildings down, a group of friends roared with laughter as they spilled out of the door, arms around each other and happiness on their faces.

This place was beautiful. It was…life.

And the existence of darker places did not change that, did not steal its essence. Good and bad both simply existed. In people, and in places.

Just like in the human lands.

Just like Azriel had been trying to tell you all along.

“There’s good and bad everywhere…” you murmured quietly, the words sinking in, hitting home. How could you deny it when the people here clearly were not scared, not running and screaming and begging for their lives?

There was movement, and you felt Azriel’s side press against yours. “There is.”

And you could see it now, like a fog had been lifted. But there was still one pressing question that plagued you. One you couldn’t tamp down on as you angled yourself towards Azriel proper.

“Why bother, though?” you asked, studying him. “Why go to these lengths to prove this to me? You don’t owe me anything. Why…why would you bother taking the time to make me see this?”

Azriel gazed back at you, something burning in his eyes. He pursed his lips, like he was trying to force his words back down, trying to stop them spilling out.

A fight he ultimately lost.

“Because I am selfish,” he said, staring at you fiercely. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of not being able to see you anymore. Of you thinking I’m a monster. I would not care if anyone else were to think so, but…”

“…but what?”

“But not my Bluebird.” His voice was raw, raspy. He reached out cautiously, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Not my Blue.”

A breath shuddered out of you, and with it went your resolve. You knew you could no longer fight what been pressing you for a while, now. Could no longer deny what was right in front of you.

You cleared your throat, feeling the shivers that pulsed through your skin with Azriel’s hand still hovering so close to it. So badly, you wanted to lean into it. But you forced your gaze back to the brilliant city of Velaris.

“Life seems so lovely here,” you admitted, your voice surprisingly hoarse.

“It is,” Azriel concurred. “It really is. And you, Y/N…you deserve loveliness.”

You stared fiercely at the water, begging yourself not to get choked up. You’d never had loveliness.

A warm, comforting hand pressed against the small of your back. You shamelessly allowed it to.

“Would you like to meet my family?” the shadowsinger asked.

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You were going to be sick — and not from the flying.

Your feet touched down on a beautiful, ornate estate — grass trimmed and decorated with fountains, ornaments, decorative hedges. Trees and obscure plants and beautiful flowers. Never had you been anywhere so grand.

And before you — a huge, stunning house of pillars, winding staircases, giant windows and just…pure opulence. It intimidated you just to look at.

“This is…this is where they live? Your…High Lord and High Lady?” The words felt foreign on your tongue.

“It is.” As Azriel stepped up to your side, you realised his arm was still wrapped around you. “Did I ever tell you she used to be human — my High Lady?”

Your gaze shot to him in a flash. “What? How is that possible?”

“It’s a long, elaborate story that I’ll allow her to tell you, when she feels like it. But it’s true — she and her two sisters were once human, and they were all turned fae.”

A thought that set your heart thudding at a gallop. Had they once been lowly village girls, like you were? You hadn’t considered that you might have anything in common with these people.

“Shall we?” Azriel’s arm tightened around you, and you welcomed it. You needed the grounding comfort.

With a deep breath and a nod, you allowed yourself to be led up the broad stone steps that trailed up to the mammoth front entrance. You followed Azriel’s lead, wide-eyed as he opened the front door like it was his home, also, and led you inside.

The interior was, unsurprisingly, as decadent as the exterior, but you found yourself too nervous to take in any details beyond polished marble flooring and huge, painted portraits that hung on the wall of beautiful beings. You did, however, stop to take in the portrait that was undoubtedly Azriel.

“Feyre — our High Lady — is an artist.” Azriel stopped beside you. “She painted all of these.”

“And a damn excellent artist, too.” Behind you, a voice of pure, cloaked night echoed through the giant room. It added with a hint of glimmering humour, “Not that I’m biased, of course.”

You turned at once, knowing that such a voice could never come from a human. Your heart almost stopped at the sight of the male who leaned against a carved arch, and you blushed furiously at the thought that he could probably hear such a thing.

He certainly resembled Azriel, in his golden skin and dark hair. But his eyes were of a stark, peculiar shade — violet — and his ears very much pointed. Something about the smug ease with which he stood screamed at you that this — this was the High Lord of the Night Court, looking regal in a black button-up shirt and dark trousers.

And beside him, a woman — female — of such otherworldly beauty, it was hard to imagine that her golden-brown hair and blue eyes had ever been dulled by mortality.

“He is biased,” she said with a soft smile, fondness in her eyes. She drank in the sight of you, and there was no judgement, no disapproval — just simple curiosity. “Y/N. Welcome to our home.”

“This is Rhysand and Feyre,” Azriel explained beside you. “High Lord and High Lady.”

“Rhysand?” The High Lord echoed jovially. “You sound like Feyre when she tells me off. Just Rhys will do,” he sketched you a flourishing bow, “and as my beautiful mate said — welcome to our home.”

“I…I’m afraid I don’t know the customs, where greeting a High Lord or Lady is concerned,” you cleared your throat. “But thank you for having me.”

Feyre smiled warmly. “You’re very welcome. Shall we get a drink? The others are waiting.”

Your stomach turned with nerves, but you nodded. As Azriel stepped forward, falling into stride with Rhysand, Feyre stayed behind, turning to you.

“It’s nerve-wracking, isn’t it?” she smiled at you gently. “I had already been turned fae when I first came here, but…I can’t imagine coming here as a human who’s never had much to do with our kind.”

Our kind. Clearly her mortal roots were but a distant memory.

“It is,” you agreed. “This is…hugely out of my comfort zone.”

“Just stick with me, Y/N. But you have nothing to worry about.” Her smile grew. “We’re all just happy that Azriel has found someone. Even Elain.”

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Even Elain. What the hell did that even mean?

It stuck in your mind as you held yourself through introductions, your curiosity such that you were waiting for an Elain to be introduced to. But through the names that were thrown at you — Cassian, Amren, Morrigan, Nesta — that one did not come up.

The tiny Amren was terrifying despite her small stature, and yet you found her quick wit and remarks to be personable. Morrigan — Mor — had invited you to sit with her the second the introductions were over, and she seemed almost…excited by your presence. Cassian was jovial, warm, quickly making it clear that he would joke and banter with you as much as he would with his family.

Ironic, then, that the least forthcoming with any warmth was Nesta — who surely could relate to your humanity, even if her own was long gone.

She’d barely spoken to you beyond a terse greeting. And since then, she’d stared you down from the other end of the table. You couldn’t help noticing that her eyes continuously darted to the round edges of your ears. You couldn’t read the ferocity in her gaze.

It was an effort to ignore it as conversation bloomed around the table.

“So he was just hovering above your inn like a little creep?” Cassian’s broad grin was savage, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he plied you with questions. “You should have shot him down with an arrow. Taught him a lesson.”

Your lips twitched as you answered, “Somebody else saw to that. I just ended up helping him.”

“Boo.” The Illyrian warrior snorted. “How boring.”

Beside you, Azriel rolled his eyes, but a soft smile played on his lips that told you he rather enjoyed the teasing. You couldn’t help relaxing at the…normality of it all. How easy and light and warm this conversation was.

How naive you had been, to assume that the fae were simply cold, severe beings. The furthest thing from this loving family unit. It didn’t even seem to be a bizarre circumstance to them, that they had been gathered to meet at such a late hour. If not for the huge windows letting the night sky in, you’d be forgiven for thinking that their energy and enthusiasm was indicative of day time.

“From which village do you hail, Y/N?” Feyre asked you, sipping from her wine. You’d tried not to stare too long at the casual intimacy between the High Lord and Lady — the little touches you so naturally wanted to mimic with the male beside you. She added, “Perhaps Nesta and I would have heard of it.”

At that, Nesta lifted her chin a little. You could have sworn a glimmer of curiosity streaked through her eyes, there and gone in an instant.

“Northern Swancross.” You answered, eyes darting around the opulent dining room. “It isn’t anything grand. “Most of its residents are living in poverty.”

Feyre sipped her drink, offering an understanding nod. “Perhaps too far north for us. I don’t recognise the name—”

“I do,” Nesta said sharply — the first time she’d really spoken to you. “I remember reading a pamphlet once, about fae attacks on human villages. Northern Swancross was named in regards to an attack there a couple of decades ago.”

Silence and stillness filled the space that conversation had lit up moments before. Your mouth went dry. You felt the cool touch of a shadow caressing your arm.

“That would have been my mother,” you answered, clearing your throat.

Nesta stared at you a long moment, a slither of what seemed to be…solidarity…seeping through the cracks of her icy reception. She lowered her chin in the slightest of dips, and somehow, you knew exactly what that minute gesture communicated. We have both suffered at the hands of the fae. And yet, somehow, here we both are.

“That’s awful,” Rhysand’s voice cut through the moment, quiet and laced with sympathy. “I’m sorry for the loss of your mother. We all are.”

You nodded. “Thank you.”

“Nesta, Elain and I also lost our mother,” Feyre supplied. “To illness, rather than to the fae. But we understand what the loss of a parent is like. Many of us here do.”

A kind and heartbreaking sentiment, and yet all you could focus on was the mention of that name again. Elain. She must have been the third sister.

You didn’t know why you felt such preying curiosity about her standing in this group…or her standing with Azriel, and why her support for his happiness was a thing Feyre felt was worth mentioning. You couldn’t stop yourself wondering if her absence was a deliberate thing.

As if she’d read that thought, Feyre cleared her throat. “You’ll have to forgive Elain’s absence. She’s not much of a night owl.”

“Despite living in the Night Court,” Cassian added, and his booming chuckle at once chased away the tension that had seeped into the room. He grabbed the bottle of wine and refilled his glass. “So tell us more about you, Y/N.”

You did exactly that — and found yourself peculiarly willing to do so. Such a sheltered life you’d lived with no one to truly call a friend, that it now seemed that years of pent-up conversation came flooding out of you. And as hours ticked by, pedalling closer towards morning, you found yourself relaxing, forgetting that you were human and they were fae. They were just…people. Kind, good people.

And in turn for the information you shared with them, they told you about themselves, answered your questions, explained things you didn’t understand. Mor spoke to you like she’d known you for years rather than minutes. Even Nesta’s reservedness began to thin into something more cordial. One-by-one, the High Lord’s Inner Circle pulled you into its fold as if a place for you had been carved there for a very long time.

They did not balk — not even a little — at the idea of you being of worth in Azriel’s life.

Azriel himself was largely quiet throughout the night. He seemed to take a backseat and allow you to navigate this situation as you saw fit, only interjecting with comments and responses every now and then. But at your side, he remained a solid, steadfast presence, his shadows a thing of comfort. And the urge to lean against him as the night wore on was a pressing, growing one.

You didn’t want to resist anymore. Didn’t want to take a step backwards. You’d seen what he’d wanted to show you, and there were no more weak excuses you could come up with as to why your involvement with Azriel was a bad idea.

You wanted him…and you were done denying yourself him.

It was only when the night drew to a close that you began to feel the tiredness waiting on the edges of your mind. Nesta was the first to leave, and soon after that, everyone else was standing and saying their goodbyes.

“You’ll come back soon?” Feyre asked you, her hands squeezing yours. She seemed genuinely thrilled that Azriel had brought you here.

You glanced at the shadowsinger beside you, a smile playing on your lips. “If he’s willing to bring me.”

A soft, low chuckle sounded in Azriel’s chest. But there was nothing comical about the way he promised, “Whenever you want.”

Bidding the High Lord and Lady goodnight, you descended the front steps with a lightness that you hadn’t felt upon arrival. Tonight had been…easy. Simple. There was nothing more to it than merely getting to know Azriel’s friends. Getting to know Azriel’s world.

And when the doors closed behind you, it was just you and him alone, for the first time in hours.

He strolled at your side, back through the opulent front garden. Neither of you seemed to know who would speak first.

Until you turned to him and said, “Thank you for bringing me here.”

Az stared back at you, pausing for the slightest of moments. “To the River House?”

“And to Velaris. To…to Prythian.” You, too, paused. “To the truth, I suppose.”

His chin dipped just slightly. “You deserve the truth.”

A few paces forward, you walked in silence. It wasn’t until you were under the canopy of a huge, overhanging tree that you pressed your back against the trunk and allowed yourself to stare at him. Properly stare at him. To take in his beauty.

He stopped a few steps away, asking, “What?”

So many things you wanted to say. I’m done fighting this. I’m done fighting us. I want to dive further into this world with you. I want you, Azriel, whatever the hell that means for me—

“Who is Elain?” The words spilled, unplanned and undignified, from your lips. Your eyes shuttered for a moment as you regained your composure. “I mean…I know who she is. I know she’s Feyre’s and Nesta’s sister. I just mean…who is she…to you?”

Azriel was still for a moment, his brow pinching slightly. He took a step closer. “She’s…a friend.”

“…just a friend?”

“I…I won’t deny that I wondered, at one time, if she might be more than that.” His scent hit you as he continued to step closer. “But she has a mate. And I wondered that before…before I met you.”

The bark of the tree bit into your back as you held yourself firmly, grounding yourself in the moment. You inhaled a small breath, trying to ignore the dizziness that his general proximity seemed to provoke. But as he stepped closer still, now mere inches from you, you knew you were fighting a losing battle.

Still, you lifted your chin and stared up at him. Stared, as he closed the gap between your two bodies and pressed you further against that tree, his body seeming to line perfectly with yours despite your height difference. His breath tickled your neck as he leaned into your ear.

“Were you worried about that, Blue?” he asked huskily, a smile in his voice.

You couldn’t control the way your breath hitched in your throat. Lie, save face, deny it, your mind screamed at you. You weren’t sure you currently had the mental capacity to do so.

“You said you’ve had lovers,” you rasped back. “I was just wondering if, perchance, Elain had been one of them.”

A mix of both relief and disappointment filled you as Azriel pulled back — not far, but simply enough to stare sincerely into your eyes. His face was open and soft, despite the teasing that had been in his tone.

“No.” His tone was a promise. “Elain has never been my lover. I don’t…I don’t want you to worry about that. About her.”

Your shoulders relaxed just slightly. But as your gaze began to lower from his, his hand was suddenly at your face, cupping your jaw, holding your attention firmly on him.

“It’s been a long, heavy night for you,” he murmured, studying you closely. “I want you to tell me honestly how you’re feeling.”

Perhaps the most loaded question he could have asked. You swallowed, slowly shaking your head. “I…I’m feeling lots of things. Relief…that what you told me about this place was true. Shame…that I was obstinate in my ignorance—”

“You do not need to feel one bit of shame. There are always two sides of the coin—”

“And fear. I feel scared.”

Your words lingered between the two of you, truthful and unwavering. They were out in the open, now. You found yourself not wanting to keep them to yourself.

“I feel scared,” you repeated, “because I have nothing to hide behind, now. I can’t run and deny what I feel. You’ve shown me the truth, and I…I can no longer deny my own.”

His hand still cupping your face, Azriel brushed his thumb over your cheek. His eyes remained fully trained on you, not willing to look away for a second.

“There is no going back from this night,” you whispered, staring back at him. “And I’m glad about that. But I’m also so scared.”

“I don’t ever want you to feel scared. Not with me.” His hushed words, spoken quietly for your ears only, landed on your lips. “I just want to make you happy, Blue.”

It took a moment for you to realise that the soft noise that sounded — a small cry of both relief and need — came from you. You couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. You were done with resisting.

Your hand cupped the back of Azriel’s head, and you pulled it down, slanting your mouth over his. At once, he hummed against your lips and moved his hands to your waist, pulling you closer against him.

This was everything. Azriel was everything. He just wanted to make you happy, and you wanted to make him happy, too. He was not fae or a shadowsinger or a huge, imposing figure with wings. He was just Azriel. Your Azriel. Your salvation.

The male you were so, so glad to have been proved wrong about. The male you were falling in love with.

Your tongue pressed against the seam of his lips, and he parted them for you, allowing you to dip inside. At once, his taste mingled with yours, and you moaned softly, your hands grasping at him, wanting to feel him against you as you kissed him harder, fiercer.

And he kissed you back just as ferociously. You may have been inexperienced, but you knew the taste of desire on his tongue, and you knew exactly what you were feeling when he hardened against you, his arms banded around you.

“Blue,” he broke away, panting. His eyes were glazed as he stared down at you, his chest rising and falling heavily. “We’re getting carried away. Tell me what you want. I need to know what you want.”

Him. All of him. Every single inch of him.

Your eyes trailed down to the hardness that was unmistakably outlined through his leathers. Such stark hunger bolted through you that it sent shivers coursing down your spine. Had wetness pooling between your legs.

And from the way Azriel’s nostrils flared, and a deep, guttural noise vibrated in his chest, you could only guess that he’d scented it.

You pushed up onto your toes, brushing another kiss to your mouth. A light one that he seemed ready to get lost in, before you were pulling away, your eyes clashing with his again.

“I want you to take me back to my home,” you told him breathlessly, your fingers biting into his leathers. “And I want you to stay.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Not one bit of the journey was memorable. Not the flight back to the Wall, or that brief flash of darkness as you were winnowed from there, right back into the taproom at the Bluebird Inn.

Your only focus was on Azriel. The feel of his body pressed against yours, and how…how it would feel even better when you both rid yourself of clothing.

And gods, you were nervous. But you could feel in your very bones — you were ready.

This night had, indeed, been a reckoning. This night had, indeed, changed things forever, and made you realise that you had no good reason to deny yourself of the brilliant fae male who consumed your every thought.

You trusted Azriel. You wanted Azriel.

And when both your feet and his touched the wooden flooring of the inn, your eyes clashed only momentarily with his before you were pulling his face down to kiss you. And kiss you, he did.

It was hot and greedy and desperate, a kiss that could wait no longer. He made a low noise against your mouth, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards and pressed you against the bar. It was tongue and touching and too many clothes, and you were done waiting, done thinking, as you dragged a trembling hand down the firm feel of his leathers, down and down until you were cautiously folding your palm over the bulge in his pants.

You had no idea what exactly you were doing, but the way Azriel gasped against your lips seemed to be a positive reaction. One that only spurred you on further.

Even without properly seeing him, you could tell he was huge. Your hand barely fit over what pressed through his breeches. You explored the length of him, wishing that clothes weren’t in the way. That it was just skin on skin.

Azriel let out a choked moan — one that seemed pleasurable. Until he pulled away.

“Wait, Blue,” he panted, staring down at you. “Just…tell me you’re sure.”

You had gone past sure. Sure wasn’t a strong enough word. Sure was nothing against the certainty that roared in your veins.

“I am,” you promised, applying pressure with your hand. “Show me…show me what to do, Azriel.”

It was a pure, animalistic growl that broke from him then, and in one swift movement, he was lifting you up and carrying you over to the bar, perching you atop and slotting himself between your legs.

“I’m going to make you feel so good,” he kissed you. Kissed you again. Kissed you harder. “I promise, my bluebird.”

“Please,” you begged softly, grasping at his leathers. “I want you.”

Kisses deepened, turned more ferocious. Hands wandered, began roaming, exploring. You felt the cautious touch of a hand gliding over your breast, warm fingers permeating your shirt. You gasped, arching into the touch.

Perhaps that was why you didn’t hear it. Perhaps you were so distracted, so hungry for the male before you, that the quiet footsteps that approached were heard by neither of you. Not even by Azriel’s fae senses, his shadows.

No, you were both oblivious until a cold, stern voice filled the room.

“Y/N?” Devin stood against the doorframe, not taking his eyes off Azriel’s giant form. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

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bluebird tags: @kennedy-brooke @rosessndri @anae-naea-zacheria @iambored24601 @sirenpearldust @v3lv3tf0x @lupinswolfsbanes @alohaangels @feyretopia @janebirkln @a-dizzle777 @moonbirde @natashachelsea @navyblue-eternity @multi-reader @sfhsgrad-blog @makemeurvillain @lyinginameadow @101crows @bsenpai @honeyandhalfmoons @florencemtrash @ssmay123 @historygeekqueen @mika-no-sekai-blog @ktsskgzxlu @basicbittywitty @mybestfriendmademe @cali-flow3r @lalachat @honeybeeboobaa @azrielsbbg @eatinggummybearsisacrime @ilovemangomorethanu @rhysandorian @coralseacourt @berryzxx @pequeno-atlas @secretlyhers @grimoiregrl @just-jess-losers @happywolves81 @anama-cara @spideytingley @raccooninurwalls @despoinasstuff @ntimacy @brekkershadowsinger @ariaaira @lesehexe @aunicornmademedoit @fauxdette @moonlight-kr @sekiro1310 @fightmedraco @astarlitsoul @quinzzelx

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joshusten · 1 year ago

Text

bitter melon (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Honey got stood up on a date and Guy tried to save their night.

(pre-relationship, hurt/comfort, jealousy (hohohoho), slight misunderstanding, conflict between characters, making up, fluff) 4.6k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist]

[cw/notes: insecurities, self-depreciating thoughts and a lil breakdown im sorry honey has some issues over here (projecting moment?), NOT PROOFREAD as always LMAOO

ALSO sadly guy isnt as silly (maybe really ooc) as he is most of the fic because he has Internal Conflict + i tried to make honey’s outfit and appearance as ambiguous as possible but i’m not sure how well i did with that ;---; so just keep that in mind! Idk how to feel about this fic ! i love it and i hate it LMAO]

"Oooh, what's got you all dressed up, roomie?"

It was the weekend—Kayla had just been picked up by her boyfriend, which had Guy realizing he and his favorite roommate had the place all to themselves for a few hours. As far as he recalled, he was off from work, and they hadn’t mentioned any errands to him for today. Perfect!

Guy had a bounce in his step as he arrived by the entrance to the room at the leftmost side of their shared apartment. He rapidly knocked at the door with a giddy “Hello?”, eagerly waiting for the response that he knew would always come.

Hm, which game should they play this time? Smash was always an option but he wouldn’t mind trying something new with them. They could even watch some random YouTube documentary again like they did last time. Or maybe he can finally muster up the courage to ask them if they want to hang out somewhere outside the apartment that isn’t for laundry or groceries.

He smiled to himself. Yeah, I’d like that. They can go to that new arcade that opened up nearby!

Before Guy can daydream more of sharing smiles in photo booths and frustratingly rigged crane games, the door opens to reveal the subject of his reverie, clad in clothing and accessories flashier than what they would typically wear. He got a whiff of a pleasant fragrance too and he realized that they must have put on a perfume of some kind.

Woah.

They looked…amazing. They've always looked amazing. He had thought that about his grumpy companion even before the pair got close. But, seeing them in anything other than their usual casualwear or pajamas was definitely a surprise.

The teasing amount of skin they had exposed didn’t go unnoticed by him, as well.

His roommate, by all means, was no prude. They even had their fair share of comebacks more vulgar than his flirts when they banter (Those particular interactions definitely do not keep him up at night, blushing and wide-eyed while he stares at the ceiling. Nope. Never.) This side of them, however, was something he’d never seen before until now. This side of how they present themselves with such boldness was new and he didn’t mind it at all.

The outfit looked good on them. Too good. A seductive dark top that very much complemented the tone of their skin, unbuttoned dangerously low enough to reveal the expanse of their collarbone that was adorned by a simple necklace.

Their shoes gave them more height too, slightly towering over Guy more than they already did before and forcing him to tilt his head up a little for their eyes to meet. The dizzying scent of their cologne paired with those pants that hugged their figure just right had his mind reeling. It was mortifying—how they had him in such a daze so easily.

Fuck.

Guy gulped nervously.

“You going out tonight with friends o–or something?” he frantically adds, suddenly aware of how much he was probably staring amidst his very appropriate train of thought about the person before him. Admittedly, the man was a little bummed that his plans to take them out first (Platonically, of course. How else would it be?) were off the table, though his interest had been piqued by what they were up to being dressed like that.

"Oh, uhm, no. I mean, yeah? Kinda? I'm…" They looked hesitant and a little…embarrassed? Well if it's something they don't want to share then he didn’t mind. Despite how much of a menace he is (with his roommate never failing to lovingly remind him of this), Guy wouldn’t want to force anything out of them, especially if it got them so uncharacteristically timid. He tends to forget such social cues, but he actively tries to improve and avoid being so pushy.

As he was about to reassure them that it was okay to not respond, they replied with a bashfulness that was unlikely of them, “I’m…going on a date.”

A date? With someone else? Romantically? He felt his grip on the door frame tighten, and a sharp pang shot through his heart, silencing his buzzing mind for a split second before managing to fake a curious smile.

“Oh? Who are they? Do I know them?” He liked to think he inquired them out of politeness, like a nosey friend pestering someone about their crush, but the thought of his roommate being alone with someone for the night leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He had the need to asses this person, and determine if they really were worthy of their time—of them—for reasons he isn’t really sure of, it just felt like instinct.

Guy internally cringed. What the fuck does that mean? Why the hell is he thinking like this? Protective! He’s being protective, of course. Any friend would want to protect their friend with things like these! A love life is a huge factor in someone’s happiness after all, right? So he, as a friend, can definitely be wary if someone could be a potential risk of heartbreak for their friend.

Okay, if he thinks of the word ‘friend’ one more time he might actually lose it.

He needed a cold shower. Yeah! He just needs a nice cold shower to shock his brain and stop the weirdest fucking thoughts from ever forming, especially thoughts concerning his roommate that’s currently driving him crazy in every way possible.

“Ah, no, I don’t think so. He’s from my class.” They shrugged, looking to the side awkwardly. “I dont know, he just asked me out yesterday and I figured, ‘Why not?’”

Guy hands began to twitch involuntarily as his roommate smiled at themself, oblivious to the spiral that he was having. "My friends kept on saying I should try letting loose and going out more so I guess it’s about time.”

“Oh, uh, hope you enjoy, then.” God, he feels light-headed.

“Well, isn’t this a first. What, no witty remark? No innuendo about me finally ‘getting some’?” Guy fought the urge to grimace. Somehow those jokes would do nothing but sour his mood even more instead.

“Hey,” The man started, struggling to keep his voice steady. “Can’t I wish a friend good luck on their date?” Friend. The word felt worse and worse the more it festered in his mind. Yeah, that’s what they were. What they’ll ever be. Nothing more.

“Pfft, whatever, man.” The smirk grew wider on their lips. They seem really excited and he shamefully thinks it might make him vomit at how eager they are for this date. He should support them, right? Guy can see how his roommate tends to keep to themself most of the time, especially when Kayla’s with them. So seeing them go out of their comfort zone should have been a relief. He should be happy for them.

Whenever Guy was with them, being happy was easy. So why was he having such a hard time now?

Their grin dropped when they glanced at their watch with widened eyes. “Oh shit, I think I need to go.”

They opened their bedroom door and lifted up their arms from the side in a way to reveal more of what they were wearing. “How do I look?”

Yup, feeling dizzy again. Remember to breathe, Guy.

“Uh, yeah, y–you look great! Really.” Guy put on a strained smile. “Have fun, just don’t miss me too much, though. Might be unbecoming for your date.” He prays to god they don’t notice how his voice wavered at the end.

They rolled their eyes with a familiar chuckle that usually follows whenever he makes a joke, “Pfft, whatever.”

Waving him goodbye as they rush to the exit. “Don’t wait for me when you’re gonna eat dinner, by the way. I might be home late!” One last look on their watch had them walking faster. “Okaygottacatchthebusnowbye–!”

He heard the gentle click of the door shutting and the apartment felt lonelier than what he’s used to.

—

Tap, tap, tap.

“In old legends, tales long forgotten, the sea is often said to be unkind.

The sea’s temper is short, and his rage is felt through the angry swells of the water that eat sailors alive. His strength is tremendous, taking down the tallest of mountains and sinking whole countries with his surging claws. But most of all, his cruel waves do not discriminate, drowning both the wicked and the innocent altogether. He cares not for the last breath he takes from their lungs to fill with salt and water and death.

Despite his hostility, the sea yearns for the moon.

Whenever the moon came down to greet him like an old, treasured friend, the waters still. All is tranquil when the sky and the sea meet. The sea breeze is calm as the children play by the shore. The people were grateful, for the sea had fallen for the beauty in the sky.

But all good things never last.

The sea became selfish. He loathes the time when the moon eventually ascends to the abode of angels, their home. He loathes the loneliness that becomes of him when he can no longer feel the warmth of their glow. His loathing turns into wallowing in sorrow until he decides that he has had enough.

His calm waves suddenly grow with the intent to seize, to take, to keep the jewel of the night for himself. His desire for them to stay overflowed into his foolish actions that had done nothing but have the moon be victim to the harshness he had reserved for men.

The moon wept, and the sea received their tears. He had hurt them. He had hurt them in his act of love. They returned to the skies, burdened to carry the melancholy of a broken heart and the sea remains, afraid to cause more harm.

The moon never came down again.

His attempts to reconnect bear no fruit. A different kind of madness consumed him, wrapping around his very soul like how guilt wraps around the sinners. It’s God’s punishment, he deems, for his covetous ways. To chase for the sky but never touch the clouds, to stretch up to the heavens but never high enough.

He had realized that they could not be attained.

They will not come back for him.

Yet he continues to reach high above, hoping for the blessing of a god birthed by pity. To push his tides to the limit for a chance to be in the moon’s presence once more until the end of time.

It is all but a myth, ancient words that the people of the present cannot truly decipher, but all its messages share the same sentiment;

The sea is…”

“Hm.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is mysterious?”

“No, no, no…”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is prideful?”

“Ugh, that doesn’t sound right either.”

Tap, tap, tap.

“The sea is spiteful?

Vitriolic?

Rancorous?”

The living room which was once filled with the constant stream of clicking laptop keys came to an abrupt halt. I give up. This whole ‘running away from your issues’ thing really isn’t working.

That same irritating pain still persisted. It was becoming less of an annoyance and more of a discomfort, aching to the point that Guy started to rub his chest a few times in an attempt to soothe it. What is up with me today? Even after the cold shower that he was sure would solve his current predicament, the feeling of unease still lingered.

He figured he might as well do the writing exercises that his professor had assigned a few days ago to distract himself yet it was of no help at all. In fact, it was just fueling the fire of these messy emotions that he had been feeling. His tired eyes closed, fingers circling his throbbing temples, as he racked his mind for something that would best fit the final line. I swear to god it’s at the tip of my tongue!

His mind snapped out of focus after hearing the noise of the door suddenly opening. He managed to haphazardly type a word to try out before it could escape his mind so that he could finally finish this troubling assignment that had opened more problems he had meant to solve.

The sound of heavy footsteps reached his ears and they burned, knowing full well who had just barged in. Speak of the devil. His roommate finally returned along with the sinking feeling in his ribs. They had gotten back from their date. Guy made sure to put on his most convincing smile.

“Hey, roomie! Back already? How was it?”

“Uh, yeah, hi.” They didn’t bother to look at him, ignoring his eager questions while they hastily set down the small bag they brought. Guy sees them navigate through the kitchen to fill up a glass of water and hungrily gulp it down. “I-is Kayla here?”

He frowned, shifting his body to face where they were in the kitchen. “Uh, no. She texted me that she was staying over with her boyfriend. Why?”

“Thank god.”

“Yeah, I know right? So, uh, how’s the date?”

No response came again, His roommate was seemingly distracted by whatever they were scrolling through on their phone but it was clear that they were purposely ignoring him.

“He-ey! I asked how the date was. Did something happen?” They were as timid as they were before. And like before, the unease in his gut grew.

“U-uhm, it was fine.” The man heard them murmur. Why were they so secretive? They seemed frazzled and they were doing that thing where they touched their cheeks to cover their face whenever they got warm because they were…flustered. Are they–? On that date, did they–? Did something happen like that between them and their date?

Unnoticed by his roommate, Guy’s eyes widened. The pain in his chest returned tenfold. This should’ve been a good thing. That means they had a great time. Why is he mad? Why does he get that sinking feeling? Why does he feel so spiteful about it?

“What, no juicy details? Oh, I get it. You’re keeping secrets from me! Not a kiss-and-tell typa person now, are we?”

Maybe it was stupid of him to prod, especially about the one thing that set this rollercoaster of confusing emotions in the first place. But he needs to know. What did they do? How was it? Did they like it— being with him instead of Guy?

They continued to ignore his lighthearted interrogations and Guy knew that he should’ve just dropped it at this point but something in him snapped all of a sudden. He isn’t sure if the agitation that built up had got to him but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting out his next words—harsher than intended.

“Hey, I'm not the selfish one over here who left me all alone inside at a weekend while they got to actually enjoy the night in some fancy restaurant or something. C’mon, spill!”

The lightness in his tone never left. In fact, to anyone else, it would’ve sounded like his usual playful nagging Both of them, however, noticed the shift in the direction of their conversation. (Since when was he one to provoke someone?) He’ll blame it on being in the heat of the moment for now. They understand he was just curious like that, right? All he was sure of was that he needed to know what happened. Why is he mad? Stop being mad. They didn’t do anything wrong.

He noticed their flinch far too late.

“I got stood up, Guy. Was that what you wanted to hear? Because, god forbid, I get to actually go out and do shit for myself!” The acidity of the way they said his name sent chills up to his spine. Their voice was eerily still, its coldness made Guy’s blood freeze. “Because I’m such a selfish asshole to enjoy things for once, right?”

“Oh.”

Oh fuck. He fucked up.

“Yeah, oh,” A dry chuckle left their quivering lips. “Can’t believe I fucking thought he would actually show up. Thought somebody wasn’t fucking around with me for once and I–” They abruptly stood up. The harsh scrape of the chair puts the whole room into an uncomfortable silence.

They weren’t flustered from the date, they were embarrassed. Humiliated. They had probably been waiting for that douchebag to show up only to receive false hope and pitying glances. And he just had to add insult to injury by being when he clearly should’ve just listened, should’ve stopped, should’ve comforted them. He can finally see the tears that began to stream down their face.

“It’s whatever. I’ll be in my room.”

“Fuck, I–I’m sorry. I didn’t know that he–”

But they had already slammed their bedroom door with a force that shook the place. Guy stayed sitting on the couch, all alone once more. Great, you just had to be a dick because of your stupid fucking…feelings about the thought of them spending their time with someone else!

He’s pathetic.

Here he was brooding over his roommate going out on a date only for whoever that moron was to throw away the fucking chance to spend time with them. But maybe he’s the bigger moron in this case. The guilt seeped into his bones and he felt them ache. What is going on with him? He was supposed to be there for them. To be a decent friend. But now, he just ruined their already shitty night more.

Truly pathetic.

His eyes darted to the last line he had typed on his laptop and he held his breath.

"The sea is a jealous being."

The lump in his throat became harder to swallow. He needs to make it up to them.

—

This is stupid. This is fucking stupid.

They should have never gone with it. They should have never accepted that asshole’s offer in the first place.

The faint sounds of an old TV series played from their phone, which had long been abandoned within patterned sheets, accompanied the figure that was currently trembling under the blankets. Stuttering, hiccuped gasps filled the room with a suffocating gloom. They think their hoarse throat couldn’t handle another broken sob to let out, having already cried every single last drop of their wallow out hours ago, their hot cheeks sticky from its tears.

It wasn’t like this was the first time something involving relationships didn’t work out with them. They were used to it. They should be used to it—being left out, avoided, and unwanted. (It’s just a stupid date, it wasn’t even meant to be serious. Why are you making it a big deal? Why are you so affected?)

Why are they so affected by this? What made them think they were all-so-suddenly desirable to someone? Why did they even think they had a shot at all this lovey-dovey shit in the first place?

Stupid, stupid, stupid. They’re shit with expressing their emotions and even shittier with dealing with them. Their outburst a while ago was a testament to that, shouting at Guy when he didn’t know any better. Maybe everything tonight was doomed from the start, then. They should’ve expected the hurt. Heartbreak was far from being a stranger to them at this point.

A tired groan came out of them again.

Tired. They’re so tired.

Hungry rumbles erupted from their stomach. Damn it. Thanks to their ‘date’, they weren’t able to eat. Fuck it. Waiting out until Guy’s in bed and sneaking out of their room to eat would probably be the best option. For now, they stay bundled in their bed—thoughts spiraling, head pounding, eyes swollen, and a heavy heart waiting for its pieces to be picked up again.

Then they’ll sleep it off like always. And then they’ll confront him about it, play it off like it’s another bad day so he’ll stop worrying because they know he will. Everything’s back to normal— they’ll apologize for the overreaction, he’ll joke about it and everybody goes on with their lives again.

Yeah. That could work.

Knock, knock!

“Hello?”

What the–? Ugh. For the love of–

“Hello? Roomie? You there?”

When they wanted to confront the roommate that they snapped at, they didn’t mean right now!

“What do you want, Guy?”

“Can you come out, please? It’s…important.”

They finally stood up from their blanket cocoon, hastily wiping the tears from their eyes to try and ‘shoo’ their roommate away. The door swung open, ready to put on their whole grumpy facade again. “Guy, I’m not really in the mood for–”

“Good evening, prestige customer! Your dinner awaits.”

What.

“Wha-- How did– When did you–?” Not giving any mind to Guy’s abominable impersonation of a British accent nor the messy scrawls of black ink on paper that vaguely resembles a mustache taped to his mouth, their eyes wander around the living room, confused and curious.

The atmosphere was completely different from the bleak apartment they had been enduring for months. Multicolored lights that they usually use for the holidays hung around the area, providing the dim room with enough light to give a dreamy ambiance. The small foldable table set they had for eating was moved to the middle, covered in what they remembered to be Guy’s freshly cleaned checkered blanket that they had just picked up from the laundry when they were doing errands.

On the table were some scented candles in mismatched glass containers, and two servings of a dish they couldn’t recognize. They even noticed faint jazzy music playing in the background to imitate the mood of a pretentiously lavish restaurant.

Overall, the decor clashed together horribly, yet despite that, they’d never seen the apartment so charming. The improvised set-up looks endearingly…cozy.

“Come, let me guide you to your table,” Guy, err, the waiter, dressed in a white longsleeved button-up and apron, led them to the center, pulling out a chair and tucking the napkin he had around the collar of their shirt. The man directed their attention to the ceramics containing what seemed to be their dinner this evening.

“Our main course that the chef has prepared for tonight is a creative twist of a classic European dish composed of a rich tomato-based sauce paired with a unique and innovative pasta shell shape, garnished with traditional Italian herbs and spices.” “Guy, that’s a bowl of SpagetthiOs with some dried basil sprinkled on top,”

“Shush! Don’t ruin the immersion. And I am not Guy! I’m a waiter! Ahem!” The totally legitimate server who is not their roommate coughed very un-fakely, before composing himself in a more very real professional stance (then again, that might actually be real, seeing that he also serves the tables at Max’s when he’s not out delivering).

“I believe your date has returned. A very dashing fellow if I do say so myself, consider yourself lucky!” Guy suddenly ducked down out of view (though they could very much see him all the same) removing the mustache and button-up to reveal a shirt with a tacky tuxedo print on it.

He stood up, fixed a few strands of his hair that stuck up from his sudden movement, and looked at the person in front of him with a beaming expression.

“Hey, honey! Just got back from the restroom. Wow! The food looks amazing!”

All ‘Honey’ could do was stare dumbfoundedly before covering their smiling mouth with a trembling hand. A small chuckle became a bemused giggle until eventually they were full-on belly-laughing.

“H-Honey? Really? Where did you even get that from? And what the hell are you w-wearing?” Their voice shook, unable to contain any semblance of composure. This whole situation felt like it was pulled straight from a rom-com.

Guy laughed with them as he sat down to his side of the table. “Oh, so you like it? The nickname…came to me naturally. Feel like it suits you a lot, seeing how sweet you are to me, right?”

Honey, huh? They wouldn’t mind him calling them that.

“Also, I don’t know what you’re talking about! I think I look the most classy I’ll ever be!”

“Well, I’m underdressed then.” Their laughter had died down, slowly processing everything going on, well, it made them want to cry. All of this, for them? It’s too much trouble to go through.

“Nah, you’re fine! And besides, you look pretty all the time—which by the way, is absolutely not fair! I’m supposed to be the hot roommate here!” He declared with a mock offended tone as he sassily put his hands on his hips. Honey hoped he wouldn’t notice how their cheeks burned at how casually he called them ‘pretty’, like it was second nature.

“Then again, I wouldn’t mind if you underdress some more, ehh–”

It was his comfortingly familiar lewd quips, something they didn’t realize they missed hearing, yet why did their eyes water instead? The sobs that they weren’t aware they had been keeping in broke their dam again. Their cheeks must’ve grown tired from their crying all night, but this time, these weren’t tears for some dickhead that ditched them.

The abrupt stop of laughter and panicked sputtering from Guy after hearing their croaky sniveling would have had Honey laughing if they weren’t already struggling to breathe from their convulsive crying. “Oh, fuck! Uh, okay, sorry! I’m sorry! Bad timing! I shouldn’t have joked–”

“No, no, Guy, I’m sorry I–” They let out a shaky breath. “Wh–why did you go through all the trouble for me? I-I snapped at you and I don’t–,” hands wildly gestured around their surroundings. “–deserve all of this! I don’t– I’m so sorry I–”

“Hey, no, don’t apologize. You deserve this, okay? If someone like Kayla gets to share a night with her boyfriend then you, out of all people, deserve to spend your weekend having a great time and I won’t let some jerk ruin that for you,” He looked at Honey in the eyes with a sincerity that involuntarily made them shiver.

It’s not often that Guy was this serious with them. It was only reserved for moments when it was late at night and their teasing and gossip turned into deeper talks about anything and everything. They forgot how intense the look in his pretty eyes could get, how it felt like he saw through them, through their very being.

“I’m…one of those jerks, too. I really shouldn’t have said those words to you. You’re not selfish or an asshole. Your date was the asshole for not showing up and that’s a reflection on him rather than yourself. I just sprouted out those stupid things because I was just…bitter that you had your own plans when I really didn’t have the right to be.” Among other things. He decided not to bring up the other messy emotional stuff in his head. It’s not what they need to hear right now. “I’m really sorry for pushing you. I…really hope that you can forgive me but I would understand if you won’t.”

“I forgive you, Guy. Thank you for… for all of this. It really means a lot.”

They shared a tender smile as they continued their chatting with their dinner. By the time they cleaned the dishes and put everything back in its original place, the pair plopped down on the soft cushions of their sofa. Guy shifted himself into a better position to face Honey.

“I’m surprisingly still not sleepy. What else do you wanna do for tonight?”

“Hm…Smash?”

“Honey! How scandalous! Take me out to dinner first! Oh, well technically, I already did, so I guess your wish is my command after all—Ow!”

“I meant the game, you freak!” --- THIS FIC TOOK SOOOOO LONG i was so close to giving it up BUT WE'RE HERE EYYYY also this was suppose to have a bonus scene but ehhhh idk where i was going with it rlly rlly hope you enjoyed ;--; i'm still not rlly happy with how i wrote this but there are some parts that i rlly like so i decided to post it HAHAHAHA feel free to give me feedback :DD and have a nc day/night!!

#redacted audio #redacted guy #redacted asmr #redactedverse #redacted honey #redacted fanfic #sten writes!#FINALLYYYYY #LIKE THIS TOOK SO LONG ITS NOT FUNNYYY #literally ruined my sleep sched BUT EYYY #i like the guy writing assignment part nyeheheh #haha get the title...bitter melon bc guy's bitter and green (with jealousy) hahahahha #thinking up the title took so long also i just thought that the word melon looks cute

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