#Dried Flowers Near Me

[driedflowerdelivery]

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[good-night-space-kid]

I did not need to know how easy it is to make jamaica because I will be drinking this every day

[ellisonwilliams]

How to Care for Dried Flowers to Keep Them Beautiful

Dried flowers not only beautify the interiors but also serve users as cheap and eco-friendly remedies for those who like to have fresh flowers around but can hardly put up the strain of taking care of them. For this reason, they are also preferred for decoration in the case of weddings, functions, and presents because they can be stored for a long time. They can be used in artistic designs or displayed straight in a vase. As with any other decor item, dried flowers will require certain efforts to maintain their attractiveness in due course. In this article, we will discuss how you can treat your custom dried arrangement that you ordered online or any other dried flower decoration so that it always remains as good as new for a long while.

What Are Dried Flowers?

Before we provide the care instructions, let’s first elaborate on what dried flowers are and why they are so much in demand in home decor and events.

Dried flowers are natural flowers that have been treated to retain their shape, colour, and attractiveness. In contrast to fresh flowers that need to be watered and cared for constantly, dried flowers have been thoroughly processed to ensure that there is no water content in the flowers dried, usually by air drying, pressing, or using desiccants. This allows the plants to last remorselessly for a longer time, more often than not, years without withering or decaying.

Roses, lavender, eucalyptus, and many other varieties exist. Dried flowers placed as a centrepiece on the table or arranged by a professional florist have a classic elegance that can fit any occasion, design, or type of interior.

How to Care for Dried Flowers

Although dried flowers may not require as much care as fresh flowers, they do require some attention to maintain their beauty. Here are several easy but efficient ways to care for dried flowers, whether they're part of a bespoke dry arrangement ordered online or chosen for a special touch.

1. Keep Them Dry

The message when dealing with dried flowers is simple: they must be maintained dry. Taking into consideration that the flowers have already undergone a process of drying out, it is important to keep them in a dry place as it is easy for flowers to absorb moisture and become wet again. Humidity levels are a major concern when it comes to dried flowers, as they are very liable to moisture, which may result in their deterioration, formation of mildew, or even distortion of shape.

To preserve your custom dried arrangement online or any other display of dried flowers, it is advisable to avoid placing them in high-humidity areas, for instance, bathrooms or kitchens. Rather, go for rooms in the house that are moisture-controlled and have a stable temperature environment.

2. Protect from Sun Rays

Closely knitted dried flowers will withstand handling better than fresh blooms but may still dull down when exposed to the sun for longer periods. Direct sunlight provides intense UV rays, which can make any colour of flowers worn out and pale. To avoid the case of outlooking and glaring dried flowers, display your items away from sunlight.

Consider placing your custom dry arrangement online or any dried flower display near a window, but not in direct sunlight. If you keep flowers in a vase or display area, turning them every now and again to avoid lengthy exposure to the light can help them retain their colour.

3. Dust Regularly

Dried flowers can gather dust over time, making them appear dull and lifeless. Regular dusting is required to keep them looking their best. The best approach to cleaning dried flowers is to use a soft brush, such as a paintbrush or cosmetics brush, to carefully remove dust from the petals and stems. Avoid using a cloth or rag since it will cause the blooms to crack or lose their exquisite texture.

It's a good idea to check your custom dried arrangements online every couple of weeks to remove dust and maintain the display looking fresh.

4. Avoid Watering

Water is unnecessary for dried flowers because they have already been preserved. In fact, soaking them can make them mushy, lose their shape, and even mould. If you bought a custom dried arrangement online that includes a little vase or container, make sure it's totally dry before putting the flowers in.

If you realize your dried flowers have become damp (due to high humidity or unintentional contact with water), carefully separate them and allow them to air dry completely before rearranging them.

5. Handle with Care

Dried flowers are delicate and can break or shatter if handled too aggressively. When moving or altering your custom dried arrangement online, make sure to touch the stems and petals gently. Be careful not to bend or crush the blooms, as they are no longer as supple as when they were young.

It's also vital not to touch the petals too much. Natural oils from your fingers can create stains or cause the flowers to decay more quickly. Handle dried flowers by the stems or base, especially while cleaning or rearranging them.

6. Keep Them Away From Pests

Although dried flowers are less susceptible to pests than fresh flowers, they can still attract insects such as moths and spiders if not properly cared for. To avoid pests, preserve your custom dried arrangement online or any dried flower displays in a dry, cold location and inspect them regularly for symptoms of bugs.

If you see any uninvited guests, simply shake the arrangement outside to eliminate them. If required, sprinkle a moderate insect repellent from a distance to protect your flowers without harming them.

7. Use a Fixative Spray

A floral preservative or fixative spray can provide an extra layer of protection. These sprays help to keep the flowers fresh and prevent them from fading, dust, and insects. Fixative sprays are sold in craft stores and online, and they are specifically developed for use with dried flowers.

Spraying a light coat on your bespoke dried arrangement or any dried flower display will keep them looking fresh and brilliant for longer. Follow the manufacturer's directions and test on a tiny area before using it across the arrangement.

8. Storage Tips for Dried Flowers

If you need to store dried flowers temporarily (for example, if you ordered a bespoke dried arrangement online for an event), keep them in a dry, cold location. If they need to be preserved for an extended amount of time, wrap them loosely in tissue paper or put them in a cardboard box. Avoid storing them in plastic since it will collect moisture and cause them to degrade.

Make sure the flowers are totally dry before storing them since any remaining moisture might cause them to mold or degrade over time.

Conclusion

Caring for dried flowers is straightforward but requires some attention to detail. Keep them dry, avoid direct sunlight, dust them regularly, and handle them gently to guarantee that your custom-dried arrangement online or any other dried flower display lasts for years. These low-maintenance blooms are not only a beautiful addition to your decor, but they also serve as a lasting remembrance that can offer delight long after the event or occasion has passed. With these care suggestions, your dried flowers will remain a beautiful and long-lasting element of your home decor.

[floraldandelion]

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[hkhair]

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[rayveneyed]

nanami kento is the kind of man that makes people swoon without even realising it.

he's the kind of man to walk into a luxury store after work, suit jacket folded over one arm and a bouquet of flowers in the other -- his blonde hair still mostly perfect from the high-end pomade he uses. he scours the shelves, frowning to himself, while the attendants whisper and giggle amongst themselves near the tills -- an argument over who will be the one to talk to him, because he's intimidatingly pretty.

("just look at him," one whispers. "he's definitely buying something for a girlfriend."

"a wife," another disagrees. "c'mon. he's giving husband vibes."

someone hums. "but i can't see a wedding band."

"his mother, maybe?" says one other. "oh, i love when guys come in shopping for their mother."

"nobody's mother is getting a bouquet of a hundred red roses--")

eventually, one of them is volunteered as a sacrifice -- smiling and sweet as all attendants should be, she clears her throat. the others, crowded around the till, watch the exchange closely. "excuse me, sir. is there anything we could help you with today?"

her mouth is dry and her hands are clammy -- and when he fixes her with those narrow, burning eyes, her throat bobs.

"ah, yes." and his voice is deep and gravelly and drawling, and her stomach turns. she can only imagine what her coworkers are thinking -- hell, she can only imagine what she's thinking. her mind has stopped short. "my girlfriend likes this brand quite a bit. i thought i'd pick her up something..."

disappointment brews in her stomach -- and it's stupid, she knows it's stupid, because obviously a guy like that is taken. and -- she glances down at the roses -- obviously he treats her super fucking well. of course he does, because why wouldn't he? "oh, perfect! do you have anything in mind?"

"well, actually..."

he ends up buying one of the priciest gift boxes available -- fancy body care and perfume laid out in their signature boxes, decorated with ribbon and dried lavender -- no argument, no fight. he doesn't look for something cheaper, doesn't try to haggle or remove something to decrease the price. he adds, and adds, and adds -- and when she mentions a special offer at the till, a little add on for an extra 2000 yen, he accepts it readily. he inserts a black card into the card machine (of course, a black card), takes the beautifully wrapped bag, and thanks the girls for their services -- and just as he's leaving, his phone rings.

of course he answers the phone with hello, darling. of course he begins to ask his girlfriend about her day, the girls think with some amount of annoyance -- of course. maybe the curse of retail isn't entitled assholes expecting you to wait on hand and foot for them -- maybe it's the handsome men coming in to splurge on their girlfriends while you're painfully single and working for pennies.

[wellliveflorist]

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[entitled-fangirl]

You’re a Stark now.

Cregan Stark x reader

Summary: Cregan and the reader take a trip to the market to spend time away from the Winterfell walls. One vendor gets too aggressive.

Warnings: extra protective Cregan, anger, talk of harsh punishments

Masterlist

…………………………………….

Cregan had woken his still newly-wedded wife to the question of if she would accompany him out of the Winterfell walls.

Any time with him was welcomed by her. He was very busy as the Warden that any moment was precious.

She quickly rose and began to get ready, biting her lip when she still couldn’t retrieve her Stark pin for her cloak. Now three days without, and she’d have to tell him.

But that’s a problem for later.

…

“This is lovely,” Lady Stark commented to the merchant as she neared the small table.

Cregan had disappeared to the blacksmith, trusting her under her guards gaze until he returned.

Her finger grazed over the top of one of the handmade arrows before the merchant’s voice chipped up, “careful.”

She jumped a bit, created the smallest of nicks on her finger, but it still oozed blood just the same.

The man huffed, “Can’t ya read the damn sign?”

She looked up with wide eyes to the sign that laid on one of the tables. Her eyes scanned it, but it made no sense to her. Now was not the time to admit to her people that she couldn’t read the common tongue. Her cheeks flushed red, “my sincerest apologies. I meant no harm.”

“Whatever, girl.” He huffed lightly.

She turned back to look at her guard, Ser Martin. He always stayed far enough for her to enjoy herself, but not too far as to not intervene when needed. But he hardly moved when words were said. Only when actions took place. She liked that about him.

She frowned slightly and moved to the merchant’s next table. Atop it laid a tool she had never seen before. A small mallet of some sort and a rather large spike. Multiples of them laid out for sale, and she couldn’t think of a reason to need such a thing. Fearing another scoff, she asked, “What are these exactly?”

The man felt the need to roll his eyes and he laughed mockingly, “What are these?! You can’t be serious!”

Her cheeks couldn’t be more red, “I… I am not Northern. I do not… I do not know much of it, I am afraid.”

The man sneered, “You stupid girl. I wager you’ll freeze your little arse off before winter even comes.”

She felt her eyes water but she held it back. She couldn’t stay there any longer.

She distracted herself at the booth a few down, where a young woman sold seeds and dried petals of various flowers. She chatted with the woman for a while, even making a friend of her.

She helped the Lady of Winterfell pick petals to scent her chambers with and seeds to grow said flowers in the window of her chambers, swearing that they lived through the cold.

She thanked the woman kindly before turning around, directly into a broad chest.

When she felt a familiar hand around her waist and chuckle, she relaxed into Cregan.

He bent down to her ear with a low voice, “have you enjoyed yourself?”

She looked to him and nodded lightly, “I… I have.”

He smirked just barely, “Ser Martin tells me you have made many friends.”

“I suppose I have,” she answers truthfully.

“I have finished my business at the smith. Are you ready to journey back, or is there still things you must see?” His hand began to trace up and down her back through the cloak.

“I am at your whim, Cregan.”

His other hand came up to her chin, “Let us lazily return then. I’m afraid I have not had the chance to make friends as you have.”

She nodded and pulled away, “I’d like that.”

The two journeyed back ever so slowly with interlinked arms, pointing to each table with their favorite oddities on it, even stopping at a few now that Cregan had become interested.

Cregan seemed entirely fixed chatting with a vendor about maces when her eyes wandered a bit up the road.

She pulled on his sleeve with a soft voice, “Cregan.”

He immediately gave his attention to her and bent down to her and spoke softly, “yes, my love?”

She furrowed her brows, “I was curious about something I saw earlier. Can… can you tell me what it is?”

His brows furrowed in turn, “I suppose I can. Where did you see it?”

She pointed up the road to a few tables down.

He nodded and looked back to her, “Go ahead and I’ll meet you there. Let me finish here, sweet girl.”

She let go of his sleeve and bowed her head lightly to the vendor in an apology of the interruption.

She quickly made her way up the road to the same vendor that had been so rude to her earlier, but she hoped Cregan’s eventual presence would help ease the tension. She wanted so desperately to understand the tool she had seen.

But the man’s eyes were already set on her.

He immediately moved out into the street to meet her halfway, “Go on, girl. Take your pretty fur coat and go on! I’ve no business for you here.”

She paused in confusion. She really hadn’t thought she’d angered him that awfully. “I-“

“-ya what?” He stepped closer to her and reached out to touch her shoulder. “I won’t have no silly girl that-“

“-Touching my bride like that is an act of war, Bolton.” She didn’t need to see Cregan to know exactly what was happening. He was behind her with a tightly clenched jaw and a hand on the sword still held in its sheath.

The man immediately stopped all words from his mouth and seemed to be in a daze.

Cregan gave a vicious smile, “I would suggest you remove your hand from her before I remove it entirely from your body.”

The words registered and the man moved away as if he’d been burned, “My deepest apologies, my lord. I… I didn’t know…. She had no sigil on her cloak.”

She didn’t have the heart to turn to Cregan and see his reaction to her loss of pin.

Cregan’s hand wrapped around her from behind and pushed her backwards as he stepped around her. He now stood in front of her protectively. “And here I believed you wanted Stark patronage.” He scoffed, “If that is not the case, say so, rather than turning your Lady of Winterfell away in the streets.”

Only then did she looked around and take in the fact that everyone in the street was staring.

But Cregan couldn’t have cared less.

The man held his hands out, “Lord Stark, I am honored to have your patronage. I… I simply did not know. She…” he pointed to the woman tucked away safely behind Cregan, “She was being reckless-“

“-Reckless? How so?”

The man paled but knew he had to continue what he’d started. “She disobeyed the signs and… and then did not know what an ice pick was-“

“I don’t care if your Lady of Winterfell asks for your left eye, I expect you to take it from your socket gladly!” Cregan’s voice raised angrily, “and you’ve made her feel like a fool in her own lands!” His gripped on his sword tightened in deep thought, “Perhaps I should take your hand as payment.”

Her hand shoots out to Cregan’s back, a silent plea to not take things too far. He reacts to it almost immediately, relaxing himself with a deep sigh.

The man becomes hysterical, “Please! Please, my lord! I will do anything!”

“Cregan-“ her voice finally broke out.

He growled under his breath in thought before finally speaking again, “Apologize.”

The man looked up, “m…my lord?”

Cregan grunted, “Apologize.”

Bolton nodded, “I am most sincere in my apologies, my lord. I was wrong. So painfully wrong-“

“Beg for it.” Cregan growled.

The vendor paused for a moment before he dropped to his knees shamefully, “I will do anything. I am sorry-“

“And not to me.” Cregan grunted again. His arm moved behind her to pull his bride from behind him to now directly in front of him. He pulled her tightly to him, her back against his firm chest. He bent his head down to the side of her head, his voice low and dangerous, “to her.”

She was at a complete loss for words. She knew Cregan was gruff and demanding, honorable and proud, but she had never seen him so angered. He looked like a wolf ready to devour anything that stepped too close.

And all for her.

The man pleaded and whined and begged for her forgiveness immediately and she nodded. Cregan gave a light “tsk” in her ear before speaking softly to her, “make him work for it.”

She turned her head to him in confusion.

He spoke again, “you’re accepting because you feel empathetic. What do you want him to do for you to truly earn your forgiveness?” When she doesn’t answer he chips in, “It’s hard to earn, and rightfully so. Especially from a sweet girl like you.”

“I don’t want anything,” she finally says.

Cregan’s smirk returns, “that’s why you’re mine.”

He straights up to address the man, “Your lady has forgiven you, and so has Winterfell now.” He looks to the crowd and back to the man with a light sneer, “and Bolton? Thank the gods tonight that she is so forgiving.”

He immediately pulls her along with him, not bothering to stop at anything else after the scene they had caused.

His anger was still too great to be out in society and he needed something to take it out on.

The horse ride back was tense and awkward. She knew he wasn’t angry with her, but she wasn’t sure what to say or how to fix it, and so she didn’t.

The two even separated once inside Winterfell. She went to their chambers and Cregan went immediately to the training yard.

She watched from the balcony for a while. He beat away at a dummy with a wooden sword, clearly in an unapproachable state.

…

Supper was equally quiet. The two stared at each other from across the table.

Finally, Cregan spoke, “How are you so easily pleased?”

She tilted her head, “I’m sorry?”

“Earlier. You forgave him so easily.”

“Well, he was sorry.”

“Not enough,” Cregan continued. “I would have made him do far worse”

“It was not worth-“

“-Do not tell me what it was worth, love!” He slammed his fist down. “If he had embarrassed me, I would have taken his tongue. But he didn’t. He did it to you.” His voice turned to iron, “I should have made him worship the ground you stand on.”

“Cregan, I hold no grudge over it.”

“There it is again,” he almost laughed in frustration. “You are too kind, my love.”

“The only frustration I hold over it now is towards you.”

His brows raise, “Me?”

She sat her glass down on the table, “You are the only one still in flames about it. I wanted to enjoy a day out of Winterfell with you.”

He took that like a hit. He clenched his jaw and sighed, calming himself. “You’re right. I’ve been too hard on you. On everyone. Let me try again today?”

She knew she could never hold a grudge against him, “of course.”

He smiled at her, “Thank you.”

The silence grew into a comfortable one now and she was the one to break it. “I have a confession.”

He looked up to her as he ate, “oh?”

“It is rather embarrassing and I do not wish for you to be upset with me.”

“I am never upset with you,” he quickly countered. “Out with it.”

She sat straighter in her chair, “I lost the sigil you gave me. The one for my cloak.”

Silence grew.

She tried to reason, “I’ve misplaced it. I promise I shall find it again. I shouldn’t have set it down and I am most sorry-“

She stopped when she heard his light chuckles from across the table. “What? Why do you mock me?”

He quickly held a hand out and collected himself, “I do not mock you, sweet girl. I’m simply surprised it took you so long to tell me.”

She stuttered, “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

Cregan looked up to one of the servants, “Bring the new one for me, will you?”

The Lady of Winterfell simply stared in embarrassed confusion.

So, Cregan began to explain, “When I wedded you, beautiful, I did not have time to have a pin of your own crafted for your cloak, so I gave you one of mine temporarily.”

She nodded, trying to see where he was going with the story.

“That is why I was at the black smith today. They’ve created all my best ones and I only thought it fair that you deserve the best. I took the one you had been wearing to them to be replicated. They managed to finish it today and I retrieved it.”

“That is why we were out today?” She asked.

He smiled, “entirely. That and I suppose…” he tilted his head back and forth, “when the North manages to see the sun, I like to see you in it.”

She grew a smile.

The servant returned with a cloth in hand, setting it on the table next to Y/n.

The woman took it and unwrapped it, revealing the finely decorated pin for her cloak.

Her eyes widened and she smiled, “Cregan, this is quite beautiful, but I loved yours all the same.”

He chuckled, “I know that, pretty, but you deserve your own. You are a Stark now.”

Her eyes met his dark ones, “that I am.”

………………………………….

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[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Love

Synopsis: Emotions run high after you and your knight were attacked, and though it was the most unfortunate of events, you would have to thank it for all that would transpire after. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Princess Secret Relationship, Fluff, Mentions of Violence PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: I have decided and we shall all expect the addition of canon characters in the next coming chapters!

“I— I saw them on their way to the hill, her seated on a white stallion and her knight holding the reigns. She was wearing a… a pink dress, and there were flowers and ribbons in her hair, and she even bid me ‘good morrow,’ but that was all, I swear! I never told anyone that I saw the princess by the grove; please, you must believe me!” The prince looked upon the woodcutter, who was one of the last persons who had seen his sister and her knight. You and Ser Aemond had left early in the morning two days before for you wanted to have a picnic on the hill, they granted you permission, thinking the two of you would return by midday, but two days had passed, and naught a word nor sign appeared to tell them the whereabouts of the princess and Ser Aemond. 

The prince gritted his jaw and nodded, the testament of the woodcutter believable. He turned to his father, who was growing impatient and was consumed by his nerves. They had no idea what had happened to you. They had sent out search parties since the afternoon you had left, but none still had seen you. “Next!” A voice announced as another witness stepped towards the throne where your father sat and your brother stood next to. “Your Highness, your Majesty; I—I have not seen the princess, but I have found this,” The prince paled as the man raised the eye patch of your knight. “I have seen the princess’ sworn protector a couple of times in the city, and I believe it to be his— his initials are carved on the leather.” A squire brought the found eye patch to the king, and they witnessed the ‘A.T.’ engraved on the strap, signifying that it was truly your knight’s.

The prince gave a hesitant nod for the next witness to come and hoped it would give them the answers they were desperate for. However, it was just the same information given— you were seen near the grove with your knight. “This cannot be. Double—no, triple the search parties, and extend their territory. I want my daughter found!” The king almost yelled as he was with his son and the council in the privacy of his study. “Of course, my king,” A council member bowed and hurriedly left the council room to do the king’s order, and in exchange for him came a knight. 

“My king, the princess, and Ser Aemond had been spotted by the gate,” He said, almost out of breath. The prince immediately stood and went to the window and witnessed that it was truly you. The prince ran out of the room to meet his sister, pushing away all the members of the court who had flocked as they were worried out of their minds about the disappearance of their princess. The prince felt further dread pool in his stomach as he saw the state you two were in. Your dress was torn, your hair disheveled, and a speck of dried blood by your temple; the cloak of your knight draped over your shoulders to keep a part of your torn dress concealed. Ser Aemond, on the other hand, had dried blood trickling from his thigh and arm, pieces of his cloak to bandage his wounds— and what was most shocking was the lack of his constant eye cover which revealed more of his scar and a gemstone in his eye-socket. The prince looked away, fearing he would offend your knight if he continued to stare. 

“Oh gods, sister…” The prince’s voice was barely above a whisper as he could not believe the state you were in. “He needs a maester— Ser Aemond needs a Maester,” You fretted as your brother enveloped you in a hug, though you found comfort, you could not be calm as your knight still held his injuries. “I’m fine, princess,” Aemond interjected, more concerned about your well-being than his, but you parted from your brother and shook your head furiously. “His wounds, it might grow infected— a maester, please!” You pleaded, and before anyone could do your plea, your father came and immediately took you in your arms, your mother following behind him. “Oh my darling, you’re alive— you’re safe,” Your father finally breathed out a breath of relief, but you quickly parted from his arms as you turned to a squire and urged him to fetch a maester. 

“Why are you hurt? Where’s your injury?” The king began to fret once more, but you shook your head, unable to answer him until a maester came for Ser Aemond. “Princess, truly, I am fine,” Aemond said quietly, fearing your anxiousness would catch the attention of the court who still circled around you. He feared your understanding would be found out by the way you fretted over him. “Bu—“ You were cut off as your brother spoke, “Here’s the maester now— sister, come, we must get you inside, Ser Aemond will be fine,” Your brother said and gently pulled you to guide you inside. You gave one last look towards your knight, his eye imploring you that he would be fine before you reluctantly followed your family inside the castle. 

After the events of the two days were cleansed from your skin, you sat in the sitting room of your chambers with the whole of your family before you. All of them were cautious as to how to question you on what had happened, so all of you sat in silence. You stared at the fire, your mind still consumed by Aemond, fearing that his injuries would grow worse after days of being unable to treat them properly, but the faint yet distinct sound of his armor from the other side of the door made you quickly look up. “Is that Ser Aemond?” Your brother questioned as he noticed your attention was turned to the door. You did not know, so your brother went to confirm, and indeed, it was your knight standing by his post bathed, with clean bandages, and wearing his eye patch. You followed your brother and grew confused as your knight was in his post, your eyes silently imploring him that he must rest, but your father called upon both of you. 

You went back to your seat, and your knight stood behind it, stance straight and ready to answer any query. “What has happened?” Your father asked the simple question. “We were attacked.” You answered, surprising the king because he aimed the question at your knight. “We were ambushed on our way back to the castle. They placed a felled tree upon our path as a distraction— it was too heavy and wide to be moved or be lept by the horse, and in consequence, we had to take the road less traveled.” Aemond explained, and you rested your back on the cushion of your chair to see your knight better from your peripheral vision. “They… had shot arrows at the princess’s horse, making her fall, and before I could make my way to her, three men attacked me while the other two took hold of the princess…” Aemond paused as he felt the familiar dread he felt as he heard your desperate cries as two men took hold of your frame. 

“And then?” Your brother dared ask. “When I had killed the three, I found them in a distance. They tied the princess upon a tree and…” He trailed, having difficulty to utter the words before your kin. “And?!” Your father roared, his mind imagining the worst in the few seconds of Ser Aemond’s pause. The knight straightened his stance, his eye growing darker. “And they had torn her dress and attempted to sully her— but before they could lay another finger on the princess, I had cut their hands and taken their lives.” He said coldly, finding an odd sense of calm as he recalled their lifeless bodies falling upon the dirt ground, the fitting retribution for what they dared to do to you. The king let out an exasperated sigh, his hand running along his face as he felt rage consume him with just a retelling of what had happened. “Did they suffer?” The king gritted, surprising you and your brother with his question. “The three had rather swift deaths…. But I had made certain that the two would endure each minute of their death.” Aemond answered, the king giving a satisfied nod.

 You traced the embroidery of your dress as you glanced towards your knight. Aemond glanced towards your fingers, your nervous habit of tracing the delicate stitching of your gowns. He was itching to have somewhat a hold of you for fear you were still traumatized at the scenes you had witnessed. He remembered your scream; it still echoed in his mind, as well as the horror on your face as you begged him not to kill another bandit, but how could he not? When all of them threatened your life, and all had the goal to harm you and take you from them— from him? 

“Well, Ser Aemond, you have proven to us once again how well you take your duty— thank you. We… we are not certain what will befall our daughter if it was not you who was with her,” The king commended, and Aemond nodded. You sat still for a moment, waiting for your family to leave, for you wanted a moment alone with your knight, and when they did, you immediately went to Ser Aemond’s side, dissolving the damned gap that had to return each moment any other presence accompanied you two. 

“You must rest,” you said, inspecting the bandages of his wounds. “I am fine; you must not worry so much,” Aemond said softly, his heart warming at how concerned you were of him. “No, you are just saying that! Please, you must rest, at least for a few days— let your wounds settle,” You murmured, gently caressing his arm. “And leave you in the protection of another? No. Princess.” Aemond said, no longer trusting another to watch over you now that he had come to the full realization that there are more dangers that may come to you than he had previously thought. Aemond sighed and cupped your fretting face with his calloused, stained hands, but you found no care, you only leaned closer to his touch. “Thank you.” He whispered, confusing you. 

“Why are you thanking me? You are the one who saved my life; I should be thanking you,” You murmured, placing your hand atop his. Aemond smiled and shook his head. “Yes, but you are the one who nursed me back to health— the one who cleaned and bandaged my wounds; if you were not there, I might have bled to death.” Aemond smiled even though the subject was grim. You, however, frowned greatly, “Do not say such a thing,” You said, not even able to grasp the idea of such a proposition. Aemond smiled wider as he attested to how much you truly cared about him. He placed a kiss on your forehead and let his arms wrap around your frame. “I don’t think anyone has cared for me as much as you do,” Aemond murmured, confessing the truth. You felt a twinge in your heart as he said such a thing. How can someone not care for him when it came so easily for you? You sighed and only held him tighter as you had no words of reply. 

“I still think you need to rest,” you say after an intimate moment of silence, making Aemond laugh. “Stop fretting, I am fine.” He insisted as he tried to wipe away the furrow between your brows with his thumb, just as how you had done for him before. “Very well— but swear to me if you feel any discomfort, you will tell me, yes?” Aemond sighed and nodded as he knew that was the only way to calm your fretting self. “Promise?” You asked, not completely believing him as he does have a tendency to keep what he feels inside. Aemond did not answer but instead kissed your lips as he always believed that actions do speak louder than words. You sighed, finally feeling some relief after the few days that had passed. You felt more secure and safe now that it was just you and Aemond in the privacy of your chambers, and you could only hope and pray that it would always be like this. 

Days passed, and the whole of the kingdom had been privy to the fact of how you were ambushed and how your knight bravely and gallantly protected you from the five ambushers— proclaiming him as a hero for he was the reason why their beloved princess was saved from further harm. Aemond did not like the attention; he had noticed whispers regarding him were quick to grow, and usually, the eyes of the court were most pointed at you, but now it was as well directed on him; he did not like that. You, however, appreciated how the kingdom was starting to take notice of your knight’s effort and how much he had taken his duty incredibly.

“Stop scowling, you’re scaring them.” You say quietly as you walk through the gardens with Aemond and your two cats trailing behind you two, the passersby taking a double look at your heroic knight. “Good.” He answered, glancing behind to see the commotion your two cats were creating as they practically fought each other. “Sapphira, do not bite your brother,” Aemond then scolded, making you bite your lip as you wanted to laugh because you had never heard him refer to or speak to your cats, but it would seem his frustrations with the attention of the kingdom upon him was affecting his usual behavior. “They mean well, Aemond— they see you as a hero; nothing to be upset about,” You say quietly, but he only shakes his head. “I am no hero. I was simply doing my duty.” You sighed at his stubbornness. “Duty or not, if it were not you who was by my side, we would not know what would befall me— and for that, you are a hero.” Aemond restrained himself from answering as his frustrations were getting the better of him.

“Well, I hope your mood will improve, the Knights’ ball is fast approaching— you are aware that you have to be part of the reception, yes? You’ll have to be presented before the kingdom to receive the Medal of Valor.” You informed, and that only severed the frown on Aemond’s face. “Do not remind me,” he drawled, as he took the bouquet of flowers in your hands as it was getting quite hefty. “That reminds me, have you heard from your family? Are they to come so we can prepare their rooms,” You say, and Aemond stilled, as he had not sent out a letter to his family informing them that he was to receive a medal and that they were invited to the banquet but he had told you he had. 

You turned to your knight, but he was silent and was avoiding your gaze. “You did not send the invitation, didn’t you?” You sighed, in a way already expecting this. “No matter, I shall send the letter myself,” You say, making your way back to your chambers to draft a letter for Aemond’s family. “Princess, I— please, I—“ You shook your head. He followed you to your desk beside himself, not knowing how to hinder you. “I do not understand you— other knights have waited a lifetime to be presented with such recognition, yet you hold it with such animosity,” You were starting to grow frustrated with Aemond’s attitude, a deep furrow in your brows as you drafted an invitation to House Targaryen. 

Aemond sighed and crutched down to the side of your chair so you would meet him at eye level, his hand gently resting on your arm that furiously scribbled the words. “I am honored that you shall bestow upon me such recognition, but I do not think it is needed. I was doing my job— I was only fulfilling my oath to protect you,” Aemond said softly, his voice immediately making you forget your frustrations upon his actions. “I do not need all this pageantry and frills— I am not after recognition… I only wish for you to be safe.” You sighed and cupped his cheek as he said such words, not thinking you could fall for him further, but apparently, there were still uncharted dimensions where your affections for Aemond could still reach. 

You captured his lips in a quick kiss. “I know you do not like attention, but I’m afraid it is custom— you have naught a choice,” You say delicately, biting on your inner cheeks as a slight pout appeared on Aemond’s thin lips as he thought he had convinced you to hinder all these frills. “I’m beyond all of this, my love. I cannot make them cease with their curious gazes and wants to celebrate you,” You laughed as you found the small pout in his lips amusing. Aemond, however, froze as he realized the endearment you called him. “My love…?” He questioned with uncertainty if he had heard you correctly. 

Your eyes widened as you realized that the words had slipped your lips— instead of brushing it off and making some excuse, you breathed in a deep breath and smiled, taking another risk. “I… I love you,” you confessed, hoping your emotions would not be too much for him and scare him off. 

Aemond was rendered in shock. You love him—him! He was speechless, something that he had never experienced, but he realized he best get used to it because you often managed to dismantle and stun him. 

You sat in quiet fear as Aemond made no reaction, horror starting to settle in you as his silence was making you believe he felt no strong emotions towards you. That you perhaps said the words too quickly, or worse, he saw you as a passing fancy when you yourself believed him to be the one. You began to trace the embroidery of your dress again, removing your gaze from his lilac eye. Your hands were clammy, and you were starting to regret your confession as it would seem you would be scorned. But Aemond took hold of your cheek and guided your face to look upon his. “I—It’s fine if you do not feel the same,” You lied, trying to save face, hoping no more wounds be afflicted to your pride. 

Aemond shook his head, realizing he had taken too long to reply, and doubts quickly festered inside you. “You… love… me?” He said slowly, trying to confirm what he had heard because he doubted it might be a cruel joke. You licked your lips as your hands fisted the fabric of your gown. “I do.” You repeated. “But I am not forcing you to feel the same way— I understand if you don—“ Aemond kissed your lips shut, not wanting you to utter such words. 

“You love me,” He repeated again, voice holding thrill and disbelief. “You, love me.” He said for the third time, and you could not help but be amused. “Yes. I love you.” You repeated, letting go of the potential wound that would be inflicted on your pride if he did not feel the same. But as you stared into his eye, the amazed look on his face, you could not believe that you had let yourself doubt him— though no words were said, you had your answer. He loved you. And his actions were proof enough. 

[parkerslatte]

Fighter

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: blood. injury. near death experience.

Summary: Azriel was severely injured on a mission and his chance of survival is low and his mate and wife refuses to leave his bedside.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

Azriel was laid motionless in his bed. The only indication of life was the shallow rise and fall of his chest that seemed to get slower and slower day by day. On the left side of his bed, Rhys and Cassian sat looking helplessly at their brother before them. There wasn’t anything they could do for him no matter how much they wanted to. 

Sitting on the right side of Azriel’s bed was Y/N. Her hand clutched his still and cold one between hers tightly. There were dried tears under her eyes as she looked at her mate and husband before her. The blanket covering his body did little to show the large scar staring from his hip and ending at his shoulder. It was an angry red but Madja had calmed everyone that the redness would go down with time. 

“If only I didn’t send him on that stupid mission,” Rhys mumbled. “Then he wouldn’t be here.”

No one responded. The only sound heard was the rain hitting the window outside. 

Y/N brushed Azriel’s hair away from his forehead. After the mission it had been caked with blood and grime and now after many washes it was soft to the touch. She only wished she could listen to his small content sighs as her fingernails scratched his scalp. 

“Don’t blame yourself, Rhys,” Y/N replied after a while of silence. “He would have gone on that mission regardless.”

“But I could have gone with him,” Cassian said. “I could have protected him.”

“And possibly gotten yourself hurt as well,” Y/N responded, finally lifting her gaze to meet Cassian and Rhys. “Then we would be in a position where both of you could have been severely wounded.” Y/N’s gaze returned to Azriel. “I don’t wish for Nesta to feel the way I am right now.”

“You shouldn’t be feeling like this at all, Y/N,” Rhys said. “You two should be in your own house safe and sound.”

“Well that is an impossibility right now, Rhys.” Y/N’s tone was clipped and short. “I’m sorry to ask you this but could I be alone with him?”

Rhys and Cassian immediately got to their feet. “Of course,” Cassian responded. 

“If you want or need anything Y/N, make sure to ask,” Rhys said as he placed his hand upon Y/N’s shoulder. 

“I’ll be okay.” It was all Y/N said. It was all she could say. 

When Rhys and Cassian left she barely heard them as she let fresh tears fall. “Az, you need to come back to me, baby.” Y/N shuffled her chair closer to the bed, her knees knocking painfully against it but she didn’t care. “I need you to wake up. I need you to open your eyes.”

There was no movement from Azriel and it only made Y/N’s tears fall in a more rapid succession. 

“Madja healed you the best she could but she made no promises that you would wake up. But I need you to, my love. Please, just give me a sign that you are in there, please, just anything,” Y/N’s voice was full of desperation and she spoke to her husband. Y/N didn’t even know that something could be as painful as this.

Y/N watched Azriel for any sign of him listening to her. But there was nothing. No flicker of his eye under his eyelids. No stutter in his breathing. No twitch of his finger. There was absolutely nothing. 

Y/N screamed. 

***

The sun was high in the sky and Y/N stepped through the gate to her and Azriel’s cottage. It was on the edge of Velaris, far from the centre of the city. In her small wicker basket, Y/N had two fresh bouquets of flowers, courtesy of Elain. The blistering heat made Y/N wipe the sweat from her brow as she approached her front door, fishing the keys out of the basket. 

As she went to place the key in the hole, she found that the door was open the smallest amount and Y/N’s guard immediately went up. As her grip tightened on the basket, she pushed the front door open. Their living room was large but cosy, filled with many blankets and pillows of all different textures. The windchimes hanging just beside the front door sounded out as a small breeze blew bast. 

“Hello?” Y/N called out, reaching for the dagger concealed behind a painting Feyre gifted her. 

However, Y/N immediately dropped the dagger and basket as her mate walked around the corner. A smile immediately spread across Y/N’s face as she launched herself at him. 

“Hi, baby,” Azriel’s low voice whispered in her ear as she wrapped her arms around him. His arms making their way around her, his hand cradling her head. 

“You weren’t meant to be back yet,” Y/N said. 

“I finished what I needed to do early,” Azriel mumbled into her shoulder. “The first thing I did was come here, even Rhys doesn’t know I’m back.”

Y/N gripped onto him tighter, afraid that if she let him go, he would disappear. It had been two months since Rhys sent Azriel on a mission and it had been two months since Y/N had spoken to Azriel. The only contact she had with him was the wave of love he sent through the bond each night, but that was never enough. Y/N craved to hold him within her arms. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Y/N replied. “I would have stayed here to wait for you.”

“I wanted it to be a surprise,” Azriel said.

“Well it has been the best surprise ever,” Y/N said, pulling away from the hug to capture Azriel’s lips with her own. 

Azriel dropped his arms to her waist, wrapping them around her tightly. Y/N pulled away and rested her forehead on his. “I missed you so much,” she said looking into his eyes. The colour ingrained into her brain.

“Well you’ll be happy to know that I won’t be going on any missions for a while,” Azriel said. 

“Why? Are you okay? Did Rhys tell you to take some time off?” Y/N asked, her eyebrows furrowing as she thought of the worst possible reasons. 

Azriel smiled brightly. The smile only Y/N got to see. “I’m fine, Rhys doesn’t know that I am taking time off yet.”

“Then why are you? Not that I’m complaining or anything,” Y/N said, pecking his lips. 

The smile on Azriel’s face only seemed to light up his face further. “Well since you and I are going to be planning a wedding, I will have no time for my duties.”

“Wedding?” Y/N asked. “What wedding?”

Azriel reached behind him. “Ours.” He revealed the most beautiful ring Y/N had ever seen. It was simple but it was perfect. 

Y/N stumbled back. “Az, you can’t be serious?”

“I’m completely serious,” Azriel said. “Will you marry me, Y/N?”

“But we have already been mated for years and you have never mentioned anything about getting married,” Y/N said.

“I saw how you looked when Elain and Lucien got married,” Azriel said. “And I’ll be honest that I bought this ring nearly a year ago, long before the wedding.”

“You want to marry me?” Y/N said, tears springing to her eyes. 

“I want nothing more in my life,” Azriel replied, taking her hand in his. “It would be an honour to call you my wife.”

A single tear fell down Y/N’s cheek but she smiled wide. “It would be an honour to call you my husband.”

“So is that a yes?” 

Y/N nodded. “Yes, Azriel. I will marry you.”

***

Y/N awoke with a smile on her face as she reached to the other side of the bed, searching for her husband’s warmth. Only when she opened her eyes did she realise what her reality was. Azriel was still laying in the bed and his breathing seemed even shallower than it had been before she fell asleep. 

Her chair scraped the floor as she leaned closer to caress his face. His dark eyelashes rested delicately on his cheeks, Y/N had always been jealous of them. There was no small flutter of them at all. All Y/N wanted him to do was open his eyes. His beautiful eyes. 

“Please,” Y/N whispered, her lips brushing his cheek. “Please wake up.”

“Y/N?” Feyre’s voice came from the doorway. Y/N hadn’t heard her open it. “I brought you some food.”

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N said, her voice void of emotion.

Feyre sighed and made her way further into the room. “You need to eat something, it’s been days.”

“I’m not hungry,” Y/N said, settling back in her seat but kept Azriel’s hand firmly clasped between hers. 

“At least have a drink of water,” Feyre said, offering a glass to Y/N. 

Y/N tore her gaze away from Azriel and looked at the glass Feyre was offering. She didn’t want to take it but her mouth was dry. With great reluctance, Y/N released one of her hands from Azriel’s and took the class of cool water. 

“Have you been here all night?” Feyre asked. 

“I haven’t left since he was brought in here,” Y/N answered. “I can’t leave.”

“I know that you don’t want to leave him, Y/N, but you need to take care of yourself too,” Feyre said gently. “Why don’t you get dressed in some clean clothes? I will stay here with Azriel and if he moves, I will immediately come and alert you.”

Y/N looked at her mate and husband laying on the bed. “I can’t leave because I know that if I do, there is the possibility that he stops breathing.” Tears glistened in Y/N’s eyes as she looked up at Feyre. “And I will regret for the rest of my life that I was not there with him while he passed.” 

Feyre placed her hand on top of Y/N’s and gave it a small reassuring squeeze. “I have not known Azriel as long as you, Y/N. But what I do know about him is that he is a fighter. And above all, he will always fight for you, he will always fight to come back to you.”

Y/N sighed. “I know. And I will always fight for him. But this time it is different, Feyre. I have seen Az injured beyond what I thought could be possible. I have seen wounds like you would ever believe, but he powered through it. You never saw the look on his face when he appeared on the doorstep. He was scared, Feyre. I had never seen that look on his face before.”

Y/N took a shaky breath and stood from her chair and perched on the edge of Azriel’s bed. Her hand gently cupped his cheek. 

“I had never seen such fear in his eyes. When he collapsed in my arms he whispered one thing in my ear, ‘I will always love you both’. He did not believe that he would survive. He risked everything so he could see me one last time.” Y/N said. 

“‘I will always love you both’? What did he mean by that?” Feyre asked. 

“I’m pregnant, Feyre,” Y/N said and allowed the enchantment that concealed her scent to fall. “We were going to tell everyone after he was home and we had a few days just to ourselves. But it seems like we will never get the chance. I can feel the bond fading every single minute. It feels like I am clutching at air trying to hold onto it.”

“He will wake up, Y/N,” Feyre said, determination lacing her tone. “Even if I have to wake him up myself, I will make sure he comes back to you. I will make sure he will meet his child.”

Tears fell freely down Y/N’s cheeks. “I really need him to come back, Feyre. I can’t do any of this without him.”

“He will wake up, Y/N. Az would never leave you alone. In the years I have known you both, I have never seen two people so in love with one another. Whenever you walk into the room, he lights up. Whenever your name is mentioned he listens in. Whenever you smile at him, his shadows always seem happier. He thinks no one notices but we all do.”

“I love him so much, Feyre,” Y/N sobbed. “I need him so badly.”

Feyre shuffled closer and hugged Y/N. “He will come back. You will get to hold him in your arms again. He will meet his child and the two of you will live happily. There is no possible way on this planet where Azriel would let you live in a world where he isn’t in it.”

Y/N nodded into Feyre’s shoulder. “You make him sound like a stalker.”

Feyre let out a quiet laugh as she pulled away and wiped the tears from Y/N’s face. “Now let’s get you some proper food. Because you know that Azriel will kill you if he finds out that you are not taking care of yourself.”

Y/N smiled. It is small and barely there but it was a smile. “Yeah, he would.”

“I need to make Nyx his lunch so what do you say about sandwiches?” feyre asked. 

“Sandwiches are fine with me,” Y/N answered. 

As Y/N began to pull her hand away from Azriel’s, she felt his fingertips curl around hers. He head snapped to where they were connected. A small gasp left Y/N’s lips as she clutched his hand a little tighter. In return she was greeted by his grip twitching within hers. 

“He moved,” Y/N said. “He moved Feyre.”

A soft smile appeared on Feyre’s face. “He knows you’re here,” Feyre said. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

As soon as Feyre was out of the room, Y/N sat back down by Azriel’s side. “Hey, baby. I miss you and love you.” Another gentle squeeze of Y/N’s hand. She smiled, tears in her eyes. “I can’t wait until you wake up. It may be many months away, but our child is desperate to meet you. They’re desperate to hear your voice again. And so am I. I can’t wait to listen to you tell me about your day, about how much you love our small family. I can wait to hear a stupid joke you heard that you will only ever tell me. I just can’t wait until you wake up.”

Azriel didn’t squeeze Y/N’s hand again but deep down Y/N knew that he heard it and knew that she was there. She brought his hand to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss against his knuckles before placing it down by his side once again. “I love you and I will see you later.”

***

It had been three days since Azriel had first squeezed Y/N’s hand and he had been making more movement since. His chest rose and fell in a healthier succession and there was the occasional twitch of his fingers, always in the direction of Y/N. Azriel was always reaching out in the direction of his mate and wife. 

Y/N still constantly remained by Azriel’s side, but occasionally took breaks to look after herself and the baby growing within her. Y/N had taken the time to inform the rest of the Inner Circle about her pregnancy and the news was greeted with congratulations but Y/N could tell they were holding back. The one other person who should have been celebrating with them could not be there. 

“I’m just saying that if it's a boy, you should name him after me,” Cassian said. 

Y/N had found herself once again in the company of Rhys and Cassian. Both of the males wanted to sit beside their brother in hopes he would wake up. Unlike the first time the three had sat together, the atmosphere seemed to be a little lighter. 

“Az is certain that it's a girl,” Y/N responded. “He wants to name them after his mother.”

Y/N looked down at Azriel with a small smile on her face. She could still picture his excitement when she told him that she was pregnant. Almost immediately he wanted to go out and start buying things for their child. 

“That’s sweet, but Cass can still be a girl’s name,” Cassian remarked, a teasing grin on his face. 

Y/N shook her head, a small amused smile creeping onto her face. 

Cassian groaned. “Rhys, when you and Feyre have another kid, what about the name–”

“I’m not naming our second child after you either,” Rhys replied. “Maybe go and pester Elain and Lucien next.”

Cassian laughed. “I still think it's a great name. You are missing out.”

“I’m not naming my child after you, Cassian,” A new voice entered the room. It was quiet and groggy.

Y/N’s gaze immediately shot down to the bed and noticed that Azriel’s eyes were opening and the grip he had on her hand tightened. 

Tears sprung to Y/N’s eyes. “Az…”

Azriel groaned as he shifted his head to look at Y/N. As soon as his eyes met hers, Y/N felt the bond come to life and that was when she broke down. So many emotions filled Y/N within seconds and she threw herself down on the bed, her head resting on Azriel’s chest. 

“My love, I thought you were gone,” Y/N wailed. 

Azriel slowly moved one of his hands to caress the back of her head. “I would never leave you. Either of you.” His voice was quiet and hoarse, yet Y/N could hear the love within it. 

Y/N lifted her head to look at Azriel and noticed both Rhys and Cassian slowly making their way out of the room. She noticed the tears shining in their eyes. 

“I never thought I would see you again,” Y/N said.

Azriel slowly pushed himself up on the bed, wincing in pain as he did so. 

“No, no,” Y/N said, placing her hands gently on his shoulders. “You need to rest.”

“I’ve done enough resting,” Azriel said, settling back against the headboard. “All I want to do is look at my wife and hold her in my arms.”

Azriel gently tugged Y/N forward until her forehead rested on his. “I heard everything you said to me.” He revealed. “I tried to move, I tried everything but I couldn’t. I had no way to reach you. I never thought I’d ever see you again. I never thought I would meet our child.”

A single tear fell down Azriel’s face and Y/N hastily wiped it away.

“It’s okay,” Y/N said, gently cupping his cheeks. “All that matters is that you are here and you are okay. We don’t need to think about that anymore because you are awake and here.”

“I love you,” Azriel whispered. “I love you so fucking much.”

“I love you too,” Y/N replied. “Just promise me that you are not going on any missions for a while.”

“I won’t be,” Azriel said. “I will not be leaving this court at all until our child is born and probably long after. I don’t want to be put in this position again. I don’t want you to ever nearly lose me again. I want to see our child grow up. I want to be by your side for eternity. No mission or job could ever come before my family.”

Y/N gently pecked his lips. “I am so glad you are here, my love.”

“I will always fight to get back to you, Y/N,” Azriel said, nothing but love in his tone. “I love you too much to ever let you go.”

Y/N didn’t respond verbally, instead she gently shuffled forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder. Azriel’s arms immediately latched around her, keeping her pressed against his body. Even when Y/N tried to pull away slightly to not hurt him, Azriel refused to let her. Y/N just relaxed into him. 

“Madja will need to come and check on you at some point,” Y/N mumbled. 

“Not right now,” Azriel said. “I just want to hold you right now.”

“Rhys and Cass will want to see you too,” Y/N said. 

“They can wait,” Azriel said. “And all the others can wait. Just for tonight I want to spend my time with my family. Just you and our child.”

Y/N pressed a soft kiss to the side of his neck. “Then let’s just lay here all day then. I can’t think of anywhere else I would rather be.”

“I cannot believe how lucky I am that I have you in my life, Y/N,” Azriel said, the stubble on his face scratching her bare shoulder from where her robe had fallen. 

“I am the lucky one, Az,” Y/N said. “I am lucky enough to have someone who would fight so hard to come back to me.” Y/N leaned back from the hug and placed his hand on her stomach. “To us.”

“I love you,” Azriel said, wrapping his arms back around Y/N’s body. “I love you both.”

Y/N only hugged him tighter and that was the way the small family remained, completely wrapped up in their own little world.

[driedflowerdelivery]

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[samuelsdean]

Next To You

pairing: sam winchester x reader

summary: waking up next to sam was your favorite thing in the world.

genre: fluff

word count: 1.4k

author's notes: i would very much love to wake up next to sam don't y'all think so? i literally wrote this because i think t'd feel so good to be hugged by him the entire night and wake up to him first thing in the morning.

WAKING UP NEXT TO SAM WAS PROBABLY YOUR FAVORITE THING IN THE WORLD. IT WAS YOUR REFUGE, A SANCTUARY FROM THE WORLD'S HARSH EDGES. It was a reminder that each day is another day you get to spend the rest of your life with the love of your life.

You loved waking up next to Sam because his warmth radiated like your favorite hoodie, chasing away the remnants of a cool summer night. Tucked into the space between his jaw and chest, you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breath, his arms encasing you.

Slowly, you untangled yourself from his embrace, careful not to disturb his sleep. The light of dawn peeked through the window, painting a golden sheen across Sam's face. His brow furrowed slightly, a crease etched between his eyes, usually reserved for facing down monsters, but right now, it softened with sleep, replaced by the slight ajar of his lips.  

Watching Sam sleep had you going through your memories in a flash—the way he surprised you with your favorite flowers, after being gone from a hunt, a shy smile gracing his features as he laid a gentle kiss on your reddened cheeks. You smiled wistfully when you recalled how Sam confessed to you his feelings the night he had gotten home from a hunt that went on too long and could've gone sideways.

The motel room door creaked open, revealing a battered Sam Winchester. Dried blood stained the sleeve of his jacket and he was sporting a nasty gash on his right cheek, a grim souvenir from the hunt gone south.

Exhaustion hung heavy around him, a storm cloud threatening to unleash the floodgates of aches and pains. He wanted to go to sleep as soon as he stepped inside the dank motel room, but the tiny flicker of light beneath the door held him captive.

There you were, bathed in the warm glow of a lamp, hands wringing together and brows crimped in worry. Sam seemed to forget all about sleep when he saw you. He has never yearned for anything the way he has right now with the sight of you, his relic of normalcy in his chaotic world. He pushed the door open further, the sound jarring in the silence.

You looked up, surprise giving way to relief. "Sam! Thank goodness you're alright. I was worried sick after you've been gone for so long."

A weak smile formed on his lips. "We got them. Nasty ghouls took longer than expected." He shuffled closer, the weight of the hunt pulling at him. He could feel the warmth radiating from the room, a stark contrast to the bone-chilling night he'd endured.

You stood up and reached out, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch, even through the grime, sent a jolt through him. It was a simple gesture, yet it held the power to ground him, to remind him of what he was fighting for—what he was going home to.

"You look like hell," you said, your voice laced with concern. "Go wash up, then I'll get you something to eat. There's a diner near here, open 24/7 apparently, Bobby told me on the phone earlier, bless his gruff soul."

He allowed himself to be ushered towards the bathroom, crumpling onto the tub with a groan. As the hot water washed away the grime and fatigue, something else started to wash over him. It was the weight of his unspoken feelings, a truth he could no longer keep buried.

He emerged from the bathroom, a fresh towel wrapped around his hair. You were already by the table, a steaming cup of coffee and grub waiting for him. He caught your gaze, the way your eyes held a warmth that chased away the chills of the hunt.

"Listen," Sam began, his voice thick with emotion. You tilted your head in confusion as to what he was trying to say. "This life… it's not easy. It's dangerous, messy, and frankly, it terrifies me sometimes."

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking with yours. "But then I come back here, see you… and suddenly, facing it all over again, well, it doesn't seem so bad. It feels… bearable."

A blush crept up your neck, mirroring the heat rising in his own. You opened your mouth to speak, but he pressed on.

"I know this is crazy," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "But, I can't keep it in anymore. I… I care about you. A lot more than a friend."

The silence stretched, heavy with anticipation. He braced himself for a rejection, the fear of a cold fist squeezing his heart. Then, you reached out, your hand gently cupping his cheek.

"Sam," you said, your voice soft, "you're not the only one who feels that way."

Relief flooded him, warm and exhilarating. A hesitant smile spread across his face. "Really?"

You nodded, your eyes sparkling. "For a long time, actually."

He leaned in, the space between them collapsing in a rush. The kiss was soft, a tentative exploration of your unspoken feelings toward each other. But within it, there was a spark, a promise of something deeper. He pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, a newfound warmth radiating from within.

"So," he whispered, a grin tugging at his lips, "does this mean I get to keep bothering you for a while longer?"

You chuckled, a sound that filled the room with a melody of hope. "Looks like you're stuck with me, Winchester. Now, about that coffee…"

He pulled you close, the scent of coffee and the lingering warmth from the confession clinging to the air.  

Yes, in the face of whatever darkness awaited, this peaceful moment with Sam was a treasure. You leaned in, brushing a kiss against his cheek, a silent promise whispered against his lips, "I'll wake you soon, pretty boy."

The sunlight, bolder now, sliced through the gap in the curtains, landing right on Sam's eyelids. He let out a soft groan, sleep fading as he blinked the light away. Unlike you, mornings weren't exactly his best friend. For a moment, his eyes fluttered closed again, then snapped open, a glimmer of surprise crossing his face when he realized you weren't there.

"Morning, baby," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. He reached out instinctively, his hand brushing against the empty space where you'd been. A frown tugged at his lips for a brief moment before it softened into a smile as he spotted you by the window.

You were turned away from him, busy reading a paperback. The rising sun cast an ethereal glow around you, highlighting the way your hair seemed to catch fire with golden light. A shiver danced down Sam's spine, a mix of the cool morning air and the unexpected sight before him.

"Hey there, Sleepyhead," you said over your shoulder, your voice laced with amusement as you turned back to face him. "You look like you could use some more shut-eye."

He stretched languidly, the movement sending a groan escaping his lips. "Nah, I'm good. Just gotta get the lead out before Bobby gets impatient." He winced slightly, a reminder of the recent hunt probably still clinging to his muscles.

A playful glint lit up your eyes. "Lead out, huh? Sounds fancy. Did you polish your shoes too, Mr. Winchester?"

He chuckled, a low rumble that sent a warmth radiating through you. "Only the finest demon-blood repellent for this hunter, sweetheart." He reached for you, his hand warm and strong as he pulled you close, grinning at how easily he could make you laugh with his comebacks.

As you snuggled into his embrace, a comfortable silence settled between you. However, a shadow lingered in the back of your mind. The thought of Bobby calling usually meant trouble brewing. You decided to break the comfortable silence.

"Any whispers about what Bobby wants this time?" you asked, your voice soft.

Sam shook his head, his expression turning serious. "Not a peep. Knowing Bobby, it'll involve something nasty, a whole lot of rotgut, and probably a cryptic message scribbled on some random book." He paused, his gaze softening on you.

"But whatever it is," he continued, his voice low and reassuring, "we'll face it together. Like always."

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his cheek. "Always," you whispered the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air—together, no matter what the coming day brought.

[bunnys-kisses]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა a butcher au - max verstappen ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

max could've been a lot of things. but he was very good at cutting meat. those curious blue eyes didn't flinch at the sight of guts and blood. he simply worked and he in turn lived a happy life. in a way it got certain frustrations out, that he was never a good driver. when he craved up meat for sale at the small shop he worked at, in the apron and heavy gloves, he liked that no one recognized him. the weight of expectations didn't fall to heavily, instead he got thanks yous and no one praying for his downfall. he did have favorite customers though. the old nonnas who came in who were very particular, but always left heavy handfuls of change in the glass tip jar. the love sick man trying to win of a new woman of the week with his attempt at fine dining. and you.

you had lived out in the small town near the italian and french border for a few months now. an aunt of yours had died almost a year ago and you get saddled with the small property she owned. you took it as a chance to go somewhere else, having lived in the bustling city in another part of the world. so, the small town life was nice. and every week you'd come in and see max. he was always happy to see you. he'd often say to you, "i think i have something better in the back." before he flashed you a smile and headed to find a better cut.

he liked you, there a fondness he carried for you. you were just very polite and sweet. your grasp on both italian and french was a little rusty, but max was helpful as he wrapped up your order and told you to have a nice day. over the months you became comfortably familiar.

while max was comfortable at a distance, he was surprised when he heard your voice from the front. he looked down at himself, elbow deep in an animal all morning... staining the front of the apron and the gloves he wore. there was even specs who knew what on his upper forearms. "shit." he sighed to himself. he knew that his job required getting a little dirty, but he didn't want the beautiful woman who came in every week to see him look like a serial killer. he quickly took off the apron and gloves (even attempting to pick the dried blood off his arms) before he went to see you. you were at the front with other groceries in hand. you were just in yesterday. he looked at you with a little confusion. and you simply smiled. you placed two sunflowers wrapped in last weeks newspaper on the counter near the cash register.

you couldn't look him in the eyes when you asked him, "i couldn't wait for you to make the first mood, max. but... would you like to have dinner with me?"

max picked up the flowers, they looked beautiful even in the somewhat bad lighting of the butcher shop. he looked to you, your smile had dropped and you looked nervous. while max was wrapped up in receiving flowers and your request, he realized he hadn't said anything. he put the flowers down and took you by the hands across the counter and said, "yes! of course!"

you ended up having dinner with max at your home a few nights later. you two had been texting over the course of those days. and while he found himself comfortable messaging you. being in your home felt nerve wracking, he hadn't been on a date since he left his home town after he turned eighteen. but, you looked beautiful in the kitchen. making sure that everything was perfect for dinner. occasionally his eyes would scan over your form as you worked in the kitchen. you seemed to natural there. the way you prepared the sausages in the pan (the ones he sold you days prior) made max feel more at ease. there was a joke there about you knowing how to prepare meats. while most of the time he simply ate vegetables when he got home, after being around cut up animals for hours on end made him want to eat a stalk of celery by the time he got home. but to see someone so beautiful work a kitchen marvelously and the end result being something so beautiful.

"i made these rolls earlier today." you said as you brought the bowl with some on there, "i'm not the best baker ever. i'm pretty sure i can't compete with the place a few doors down from you." you laughed as you turned back to around to grab the pot of stew that you finished.

max eyed you behind as you walked away and was already in love.

you returned with dinner in hand, oven mitts protecting your hands from the hot surface of the pot. it smelled good. it smelt like home. and it made max feel warm all over as if his body wasn't heated from the warm summer night. you smiled when you sat across from him then clinked your wine glass with his, "to the first date in a long time." and max took a sip, he got lost in your eyes for a moment. and there was little room for dessert when you pulled max into the bedroom. the bed frame creaked as he was almost pushed onto it. you stood in front of him and he wrapped his strong arms around you then kissed at your clothed middle.

the clothes came off and he saw you eye his chest for a moment. he almost wanted to recoil a little from the attention. he wasn't built like a statue. he was strong for years of lifting things around the shop and walking to and from home every morning. but before he could say anything or move, you ran your hands down his chest. feeling his soft skin under your palms then said, "holy shit, this is what's been hiding under those aprons you wear." he looked away for a moment felt heat in his cheeks before you pulled him by his chin into a heated kiss.

you got max onto your back and straddled his waist. you watched him swallow before you kissed him along the neck and collarbones. your rubbed yourself up against his abdomen and shuddered from the stimulation of your clit. max clutched onto the covers under him and you went in for another searing kiss. it was perfect, you were perfect. your movements were slow, feeling him up against you. it was teasing for both of you until you got yourself seated on his cock. which made him tense up and feel a flare of his across his body. your hands on his strong shoulders for leverage as you moved up and down. max shuddered and his swallowed hard, "shit. please." he said as you moved against him. you replied, "you feel so good. i'm surprised no one else has tried to pick you up in town." you giggled, the heat in your cheeks was heavy. he simply held onto your hips and started to work alongside you, letting the pleasure bubble up, "i get nonnas and their granddaughters visiting from overseas. usually they are too scared to talk to me. or i'm too scared to talk to them. they see the blood or the animal in the back and get scared." maybe it wasn't polite to talk about work while he was fucking you, but you didn't seem to complain. he found that you didn't flinch at how the sausages were made in the shop. he clutched further onto your soft hips. his hands were used daily for taking apart the meats that arrived. he was usually in the back carving like he was making a masterpiece. the anatomy of the beast burned into his head. but while he held you, his touch was full of tenderness.

he wasn't trying to carve himself into your skin, he wanted to make you feel good. he wanted to be good in your world, and as sweet moans left your lips he knew that he was doing just that. he looked up at you with those blue eyes, the pupils a little wider from the heat in his body. the euphoria that was a drum in his chest as he continued to meet your pace. he then added, "plus, now i have no reason to talk to them. not when i have you." you blushed a little bit, looking away for a moment as he did earlier before you leaned in and kissed him on the lips. your hands splayed across his chest as you worked along his cock. up and down as a fire burned in your belly.

you two kissed once more as you pace started to stagger. you felt the heat become fuel in your blood as you worked his cock. he felt like a dream, an utter euphoria that you couldn't put into words. you had been with others before. but in the low light of the home you now owned with a man you met by chance while living in this small town. there was a certain niceness to it. a comfort you longed for while stuck on packed buses or falling asleep during meetings on a year prior. in the warm heat of the summer, you felt good as you moved against him. so long tinder, so long bumble, you met the man of your dreams while he was covered in blood, whose hands worked diligently every day to deliver the finest cuts of meat. not only to you but to large portions of the town. maybe it was love right off the bat, regardless you felt a warmth in your chest for him.

you kissed once more as you both loss the rhythm, soon you finished with a moan against his lips and he followed soon after. he clutched onto your hips tightly as you continued to thrust on top of him. eventually the pleasure flooded your brain and you slowed down to a stop. the kiss was broken and you both panted heavily. max cupped your face for a moment ans said something you couldn't quite pick up, but you responded with, "right back at ya." between heavy pants. and max knew it was love.

you soon laid in bed with the butcher, curled up against him. both feeling the after shivers of climax. you felt comfortable in the crook of his shoulder and your face up against his softer chest. you could tell he was strong, but wasn't opposed to homemade cooking.

he lazily took your hand in his other one and kissed across the knuckle. he sighed against your fingers, rubbing them up against his cheek soon after, "if this is a ploy to get a discount

you looked at him and chuckled, "damn, my plan is ruined."

he chuckled, "i'll need a few more homemade meals before i can do that. don't want the little nonnas to think they can seduce me into better prices." then kissed your hands once more.

you sighed and pressed further into him, feeling a sense of comfort in his arms, "next time i'll bring more than flowers."

he simply laughed, but in the back of his mind he thought, don't bring me a ring. that's my job. and maybe it was a little bit too soon to jump to that next step. but, as he held you in his arms it felt like a perfect piece. he wouldn't mind giving you discounts, of course if you were married then it would be free. but as he kissed the top of your head and heard your breathing level out and eventually fall asleep, it felt nice. it felt like home.

[floraldandelion]

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[hkhair]

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