#that smilee and those sparkles in her eyes😭😭🫶

[bronzeys]

LUCIAAAAAAA🫶

lionesses: BTS with Bronzey. 🎬

(lucynation we finally have the lionesses admin on our side, war is over🥳)

[solbaby7]

I love your work, and I’ve been creeping on your master list and it’s so good 😭❤️❤️❤️… pls do one with Azriel and AFAB reader who finds out first that they’re true mates but says nothing at all, too scared that he’ll reject her cause he’s in love with Elain and she witnesses the whole necklace gifting/almost kiss between them and runs away, tries to avoid both of them for days and gets sick or injured or something and that’s when Az realizes it too and smut ensues 🫶😭❤️

Since You Have A Lover

pairing : azriel x afab!reader

warnings: angst babe, torture too (oops👀🤣), not proofread, swearing, probs typos, mild smut at the end, testing out the longer fics and then we’re gonna figure out if longer or shorter is better 🫣

thank you for the request bean! i switched it up a little to add some much needed angst but i’m so happy you’ve been enjoying 💗💗

oh and…educate a girl. wtf is afab?👀 respectfully ofc

—

Deep breaths and a lowered gaze is how you make it through family dinners as your stomach lurches uncomfortably.

The feeling never got easier, even after months of enduring the debilitating emotions that ensued from watching your mate love another.

It’s instinctual to be jealous—to compare yourself to Elain when Azriel refused to tear his eyes away. He was supposed to be your equal and yet the longer dinner went on with overhearing their hushed conversation and not-so-sneaky touches under the table; you felt anything but suitable in comparison.

Drowning those thoughts is surprisingly easy, a plethora of wine bottles are scattered about the table and not a single person bats an eye when you snatch one up for yourself. They’re too caught up in each other to realize you’ve slipped away; abandoning the suffocating love that permeated from every direction besides your own.

Fresh air helps a little, the stolen bottle of wine aiding in keeping you warm from the unforgiving nighttime chill. Eventually the cool bite doesn’t send shivers down your spine and you barely even flinch when bare skin meets cold stone, your gaze dipping down to lively town below.

Time moves too quickly as the observer, seconds bleeding into minutes until hours have passed and the bottle has nothing left to offer. There’s a brief moment where your foggy brain contemplates the effort it would take to retrieve another when your solitude is broken.

Two bodies burst through the balcony doors on the furthest side, mostly concealed by trees and flowers but you’d recognize those wings anywhere. A hand smacks over your mouth to conceal any sound, body freezing in place as you witness Azriel press Elain into the wall, his hands cradling the sides of her face lovingly.

A part of you shatters when you catch that sparkle in his eye, the eagerness in his movement to have her closer until her cheeks go flush and thick lashes flutter closed in preparation for the sweet kiss Azriel is sure to grant her.

You’re unable to stomach another moment and neither of them even flinch when you shuffle from your spot and make a bee-line for the exit. Tears cloud your vision, shoulders shaking and steps unsteady as you all but run through the halls, darting up the stairs and colliding right into another body. “Oh,” The startled sound is all but whimpered out of you and red eyes and splotchy cheeks are the first thing Nesta sees as you look up. “Gods, I’m sorry.” You scramble to your feet, retrieving the book she’d dropped in the collision. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t watching here I was going.”

“That’s not like you.”

A weak smile quirks at the corner of your mouth, unbound hair in unruly strands down your shoulders. “I’m not quite myself at the moment.”

Nesta hums in response, slender arms crossing over her chest and the fabrics of her nightgown shifts with the motion. Her gaze is scrutinizing, picking apart the truth from the lies and you’re infinitely grateful that she doesn’t call you out on your state of disarray. “Want me to walk you to your room?”

“No.” You whisper, hastily wiping your cheeks and attempting to smooth down stray hairs and wrinkled silks. “No, I think I’m going to go for a walk instead. I could use the fresh air.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

Nesta's neck cranes, slowly turning on the balls of her feet as you swiftly slip past her and make way for your chambers. Perhaps, it's the defeated slump of your shoulders that catches Lady Death's attention; that emptiness in your eyes that couldn't even be filled by the overflowing tears that stained your cheeks.

She considers waking Cassian--he always was better equipped to handle the emotions of others but you're already gone, disappearing behind the door without even saying goodnight. Something about the interaction forces her to linger, smutty book long forgotten as she waits to see you creep out that same room ten minutes later.

You're dressed to better accommodate the weather now. Thick leathers insulating body heat while subconsciously providing much needed compression--the tight fabric mimics comfort in its attempt to hold together the broken bits of you shoved inside.

Nesta's lips part, a million possible words resting at the tip of her tongue but you're quick to intercept, tone numb and alarmingly empty. "Don't wait up."

--

Being alone was supposed to be relaxing.

Distracting, at the very least.

But, all you could feel was the cool prickle of awareness at the back of your neck the whole time you sat at the edge of the mountains that overlooked the Sidra. Each time you'd slow your breathing and attempt to regulate the unusual beat of your heart with the captivating view of Velaris at night. While most were inside, the homes that resided there were full of life; lights glowing golden through their windows, laughs ebbing through the woodwork and creating a sense of serenity that refuses to wash over you as well.

Eyes narrow, shoulders squaring and fingers twitch for the sharp daggers strapped to your thighs. The thick trees you’d come through seems far less attractive now, branches craning out like grabbing hands with gaps of murky darkness that resembled giant mouths waiting to swallow you up. “Nesta?”

The chuckle that breaks through the clearing is anything but feminine. “Not quite.”

It happens too fast--the hand that smacks over your mouth to mute the startled scream that rips free. You push against the solid wall of a body stationed behind you, attempting to sway his stability in order to break free but a sharp sting in your neck renders you still.

The burn that follows is instant and before you can stop it, the unforgiving darkness becomes all you know.

--

The palpable tension at breakfast is suffocating.

Azriel's seething brood casts angsty shadows along his strong build, creating a visible wall between himself and his High Lord after the stern conversation he was forced into the night before. It runs on repeat in the shadow singers mind, the order given to back off on his affections towards the middle Archeron sister.

It seems cruel. A sick form of punishment that Azriel can't quite wrap his mind around because who was really in charge of the tragectory of his life? Azriel ? Or his High Lord?

The mere thought has his teeth grinding in silent contempt, his gaze flickering around the table before landing on the bare spot directly across from him. His brows furrow, confusion briefly sweeping away the rage as he considers the time--your usual schedule and the words leave his mouth before he can stop them. "Where is she?"

A brief pause, the casual conversation slowing to a halt until Azriel catches a glimpse of something on Nesta's face--a strain of guilt he'd seen a million times on a trillion different faces. "Left earlier this morning." Polished silverware scrapes at fine china, pushing aside food that her body refuses to indulge in. "Said she was going for a walk."

Discontentment settles into Azriel's bones--a feeling he struggles to understand and Nesta's answer only exasperates the unsteady sensation.

"In this weather?" Grey clouds are thick in the sky, shades of slate and granite completely masking the sun as relentless rains pour down from above. "When was this?"

"Around three."

Cassian swears lowly from beside his mate, a sturdy hand resting at her shoulders but the regret lacing his features speaks plenty about the decision to stay quiet for so long. It was too dangerous, especially after the last few meetings Rhys had with Kier in Hewn. Change took time and the Steward and his men were complaining about that change taking too long. Hateful words were thrown in the name of the people of Hewn City and how they had desires too; dreams of a better world for themselves and their children but the High Lord’s better judgement rose question to the other consequences that could arise from giving what they were asking for. "Ness that was nearly eight hours ago."

The screech of Azriel's chair draws attention, a sudden boost of fuel being injected in his veins. "Did she tell you where she was going exactly?"

Nesta’s tone turns into vitriol, a subconscious reaction to the guilt that gnawed at her bones for not seeking for you sooner after finding you in your state. The reminder of tears streaming down your face flashes behind her eyelids; the choppiness of your words through labored breathing. How desperately you’d attempted to wrangle it together just long enough to make it to your room and suddenly the eldest Archeron feels that familiar uselessness creep beneath her skin. “She didn’t leave me a map with a drawn out route—she just said she needed air.”

“While crying?” It wasn’t intentional, Rhysand seeing the flash of memory that Nesta had unknowingly projected; her mental walls caving for just a fraction of a minute before the iron doors had regained their formidable security. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Silverware clatters against the table, staining table linen in strawberry jam but no one seems to give a shit when the severity of the situation behinds to settle over the room. Nesta runs a hand against the material of her dress, smoothening out wrinkles and creases in order to avoid all of the eyes settling over her face. “I was just going to the library to read and we bumped into each other. She came from the balcony—I offered to walk her to her room but she just…” A sigh pulls free, jaw setting tightly. “I let her go.”

“Nesta.” Feyre’s slow shake of her head holds enough disappointment to have Nesta’s shoulders squaring on the defensive.

“I’m not some evil bitch, I waited up!” She seethes, the beginnings of those silver flames lapping at the steely grey of her eyes but the fight within isn’t truly directed towards Feyre or anyone else but herself. Because she’d felt the exact moment that you walked from the doors and winnowed away, that she’d made a grave mistake. Nesta’s shoulders sag, fingers bunching unforgivingly into the inky linen cloth until she felt the tips of her nails digging into the polished mahogany underneath. “I waited.”

Azriel’s already out of the room without a word.

He didn’t have a right to shame her because Azriel had a feeling he knew what sent you running.

His teeth grind together when thinking back to the night before when he and Elain had scuffled off onto the balcony at the witching hour; hoping their sins would be shielded by the dark cast of night. Too caught up in one another to consider another already occupying the space.

And, no matter how many times Azriel brushed his fingertips over the soft curve of Elain’s cheeks or vyed for a fleeting touch when passing in the hallways—the kiss he thought he wanted lacked the spark he was sure would flicker to life when lips grazed.

He’d pulled away so abruptly, brows furrowing in a stark line discontentment that was visible to anyone with eyes and then he heard the broken whimper of a gasp.

It’s been too easy to pass it off as Elain and far easier for him to forget about it altogether after Rhysand had found an embarrassed Elain rushing back to her room with flushed cheeks and an unsteady gait. He’d never heard his brother shout so loud, the veins in his neck protruding as he ordered Azriel to never even look her way again. That if a quick fuck in the dead of the night was what he desired then Azriel should wander along the cobblestone streets of Velaris and find himself a suitable pleasure house and pay for it.

The words act as fuel, Azriel’s senses working on overdrive; shadows scrying for information faster than ever before until they’d returned with something he could work with.

Dropped neatly in his palms were the cool steel of your twin blades that never left the secure holsters forever strapped to your thighs.

And they were soaked in your blood.

—

You recognized the suffocating dank smell that tended to fester when stuffed so far beneath the earth—the perfect dungeon.

One you’d been in countless times before, wearing that shadowy mask of indifference when masquerading as the soulless monster that became necessary to survive while in Hewn City. It took decades of assistance by Azriel’s side; an apprentice of sorts when the bounds of your affections had just begun testing its limits—wondering to see just how far you’d go just to be near him.

To get him to notice you. Your mate. Yours. Yours.

All of that seems so foolish now. Insignificant compared to the dire situation you’d found yourself entangled in.

Sharp twinges of pain throb up your neck, aches settling in from the uncomfortable position and it’s a strain when you shift in attempts to take in your surroundings. Fear lurches in your chest when your hands don’t move, restrained by chains that had you hung up like a prized hog after a fresh hunt.

Not good. Not good. Not good. So, not good.

“I always did love that look.” Immediately your spine goes ramrod straight, fingers clenching into fists over the cool bite of the chains as that voice washed over you like a bucket of water. Refreshing on your own terms and a horrible wake up call when it wasn’t. “When panic shifts into realization—truly a sight worth capturing. Especially when attached to such a delicate disposition.”

Delicate?

You’d never once used that word in ordinance to yourself.

Hearing it now, under such circumstances makes your heart lurch, it’s beat untamed against your ribcage and it takes every bit of strength left to smooth that look of utter calm across your features. “Come a little closer, let me show you how sweet I can get.”

The underlying threat is easily palpable and Kier is wise not to follow the bait; aware of the wounded animals ability to put up a considerable fight and he’s too coward to brawl fairly. “As tempting as that is, it won’t be me who plays with you tonight.” Your teeth bare into a snarl, pure promise rumbling from your chest and the sound encourages a chuckle from the male.

He’s not close enough to injure; to swing the brunt of your weight around for a well-timed kick that you knew would disable long enough to figure a way out of these damn restraints. But even with the distance between you, the resemblance between this male and Mor was striking. She’d inherited the shape of his lips, even if the words she spoke were far sweeter than the shit spewed from her predecessor. More similarities are spotted during your scrutinizing evaluation of him; the line of his nose, the shade of his hair, the confident air that oozed from his form—no matter how misplaced it was.

“I’ll kill anyone who dares lay a finger on me.”

“So much fight in you,” Kier all but croons, his eyes raking across your body in a way that was less than savory. “I can’t wait to see how long it lasts.”

Breathe.

Years of training beside the spymaster had prepared you for this very moment and it’s easier to drift back into the memory of just another session; before things had gotten so complicated and he’d just been a friend eager to teach if you were willing to learn. Countless times you’d been in a similar situation—you, waking up tied up to some chair with ropes securing every possible joint in place and Azriel would leave you there as long as it took for you to figure your way out of it.

Allow the thrum of your heart be the beat that keeps you focused.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The cell wasn’t very large, four stone walls covered in grime and mildew with just enough space for two grown men to fit semi-comfortably. No windows. One door with a thin slot at the top large enough for two eyes to peer inside. No fire. No light. No warmth. No breeze, just stale, dank air that tasted of iron when your breathed in too deep.

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“What do you want from me?”

Kier inhales a greedy breath, his chest expanding in the ornate armor worn. It glistens even with no light—proving that even with his privileged title, he was never the one who got his hands dirty. “Many things,” He finally confessed, the words airy and nonchalant. He’s too cocky. Too comfortable. “But first, I want you to tell me about the Cursebreakers sisters.” He dares a step closer, arms crossed casually behind his back as a dark look begins to worm its way into his eye. “I want you to tell me everything you know about the Made ones and the power they stole from the Cauldron.”

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

A smile works its way across his face—one so familiar it taints good memories with its stain. “I hoped you’d say that.” Kier walks past, the smell of his cologne burning your nostrils and you couldn’t imagine ever smelling tobacco and ash, bergamot and oakmoss without gagging ever again.

One knock on the thick steel door and slender male with hair like soot and eyes like a raven enters.

Your face remains a blank slate. Even as you take in the rubber material of his apron and the sturdy material of his leather boots. Well used gloves cover his hands and tucked under his left arm is a rawhide holder filled to the brim with all kinds of terrifying treats.

Breathe. Focus on your heart beat. Stay alive.

“Who are you?”

He takes his sweet time answering. Making a show of neatly setting down the holder and undoing the braided leather straps holding it in place. “You can call me the Butcher—everyone else does.”

“How original.” A thick swallow to quell the nerves; to shove away the shake that threatened to disturb your carefully curated cadence. The chains rattle as you shift, the tips of your toes just barely skimming the cool ground beneath you but not quite enough to relieve your wrists of the burden of bearing the entirety of your weight. “Well, Butcher—come make yourself useful and loosen my chains, will you? It’s starting to chafe a bit.”

His head shakes in his denial, barely acknowledging the departing Steward and the heavy thud of the shutting door—a lock sliding into place. “You don’t really want me to do that.” For donning such a threatening title, the Butcher is deceivingly soft-spoken. It sends your nerves into a fritz, triggering your fight or flight and for the first time since your eyes had opened and the darkness had waned; that delicately woven web of control slips from your grasp. “If you’re as stubborn as I think you are,” The sharp ring of metal twangs through the air and in his grasp is a perfectly polished knife a little too curved to be considered a scalpel. “You’ll need something to hold onto. It helps with the pain…for a time.”

Breathe.

“Then let’s just get this over with, shall we?”

Butcher chuckles low under his breath, full lips concealed by an ever fuller beard—the only thing about him that wasn’t perfectly trim and proper. “Not a fan of foreplay?”

Fingers curl around the cool bite of thick chains, your chest rising and falling in a steady pattern as you began to dissociate. An attempt to keep your mind as protected as possible from whatever was to come. “I’m more of a rip-the-bandaid kind of girl.”

Death clings to the pristinely polished rubber of his apron, the creak of his gloves filling the space as worn fingers ready around the hilt of his weapon. “You know,” Inhale through your nose, exhale through your mouth. Disappear off into that numb place deep, deep within your mind. Ignore the bite of the blade poking around already sensitive wounds. “Under entirely different circumstances, I think I might’ve actually liked you.”

The switch flips so fast—too fast for you to catch but it’s impossible to miss the devastating burn that ripples through you as flesh is severed, muscle flayed and so, so much blood spilled.

It’s hard to keep track of how much time passes down here without access to windows and you’re certain that it’s intentional, aiding in the psychological aspect of their torture.

Relax and take in your surroundings. Notice things no one else thinks is important because that could be the one thing that keeps you from an untimely death.

The masculine baritone of Azriel’s teachings repeated like a mantra in your mind until it becomes the only thing distracting you from the sound of your flesh tearing, your blood drip, drip, dripping a misshapen puddle beneath you.

You force yourself to keep conscious, mentally noting anything your eyes are able to latch onto. Insignificant things; ebony hair, umber skin, a brand burned into the middle of Butcher’s left wrist in a symbol half-obscured by his gloves.

There’s a block on your powers, not quite faebane in its most lethal dose but paired with the wards humming against the walls, you knew using magic wouldn’t be an option for you. “Tell me about the Made ones and I can stop.”

“I don’t know anything.”

Just stay alive long enough to get help.

“You live there with them,” Butcher goads, crooked teeth exposed when gritted into that grimace of a sneer. Leather creaks under the playful twist of his wrist, the sharpened blade carving at muscle and obliterating sinew until you swear it reaches bone. “You share drink and food, you fight beside them in battle and you expect us to believe that secrets aren’t shared as well?” Every breath is ragged, a sheen of sweat coating your skin and unruly hair sticks to the curve of your neck. “Tell me what you know before I decide to get a little more creative in my methods.”

“Even if I did know anything, why the hell would I tell you? What would Hewn scum do with such knowledge?”

Your words have nicked a nerve, robbing the Butcher of that soft-spoken charm and replacing it with something more sinister. “You say the same thing to that bastard Illyrian you’re always seen around?”

A brow quirks, furrowing ever so slightly as it became more and more apparent that this was more than some spur of the moment kidnapping. Their questions, the desire to keep you immobile and battered but not enough to render you unconscious—not enough to be fatal. For whatever reason, they needed you alive and judging by the desperation that claws its way to the edges of Butchers voice, his curses and demands falling on deaf ears as your mind runs on overdrive to accumulate all the information you could before it was too late.

Each breath grows more labored, lashes fluttery and thick with exhaustion but just when it feel like too much—when you feel like giving up and succumbing to the sweet oblivion.

The rake of talons brushes against your mental walls. A cautious prod, testing your durability and utter relief washes over you when that feline lilt floods your consciousness. “We’re coming, just stay awake.”

The syllables barely reach your ears, sound faded by the obnoxious ringing that refused to subside—a side affect from all the fucking screaming and shouting. Swears slurring together the longer you snapped at the male before you, knees jerking and wounds barking in agony when the heel of your foot smashes so hard into his nose, his skull caves in; limp body dropping to the floor with a thud.

It’s all the strength you have in you and the death-grip you have around the chains is released all at once. Time moves in slow motion as you dangle there, vision darkening at the edges and that thrum of your heartbeat loud enough to distract you anymore. “Rhys they want— they want…”

So much blood oozes from your wounds, drenching your leathers all the way through and you were definitely feeling the affects. Your vision blurs, lids going lazy with just enough time to hear that voice—Azriel’s voice bellowing your name. “Stay alive.” He mutters over and over and over when he’s finally reached you, adrenaline pumping so high that he breaks the chains from their bolt with nothing more than his bare hands. “Do you hear me? Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

You swear you try to obey the command, desiring nothing more than to keep Azriel's attention after finally being front and center in it. But it just felt so safe held in his grasp, tucked so close to his chest while he rids you of your restraints and applies pressure to gaping wounds.

All you wanted was one second. If you closed your eyes just for a second to gather your wits then you'd wake up and everything would be okay.

It sounds like a good idea-- so good that you allow the peace to wash over you like a cool tide washing over the shore in the early days of the burning summer; ignoring the desperate shouts from a vignette of voices that fades in the background like the haunting final notes of a song.

—

Confusion crashes at you in unforgiving waves, memories --or were they dreams?-- flash behind your lids with each blink. A dull throb pounds behind your lids, aggravating your mental shields to the point where you feel them wobble with each breath.

"You should stay still." Azriel's saying without giving you time to clear through the dense fog plaguing your mind. Instead, he busies his hands with fussing over your blankets, carefully tucking bare toes and pressing a five finger grip on your sternum when you attempt to rise from the soft cushion of a mattress that certainly did not belong to you. "It took Madja a while to get you all stitched up. Are you in pain? She left ointments and a few tinctures."

He's graceful enough not to mention the owlish blink of your eyes and their befuddled examination of his room until the crackly rasp of your voice cuts through the space; both of you refusing to address the elephant in the room. "My head hurts a little."

"Yeah," Shadows fuss with warm rags, sweeping it over your forehead and dabbing it along your cheeks while others occupy themselves with filling a glass of water to offer. "Rhys will be by later to apologize for that, I'm sure."

Your brows furrow deeply, nose scrunching when you sip your water. "Apologize for what?"

"You were in distress. We thought you were going to--" Azriel abruptly cuts himself off, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "Rhys went in your mind, said that before you'd gone unconscious that you were trying to tell him something that seemed urgent enough to bypass the usual request to wait for permission."

Your heart begins to pick up speed in your chest and suddenly the desire to rise from this bed and run away was becoming horribly intense. Legs shift under the weight of a duvet that didn't belong to you, attempting to hide the way your sore muscles sink into the overwhelming scent of night-chilled mist. "Okay...and what did he see?"

"He saw you get taken," Azriel turns his back to you, expertly avoiding your eyes but the nervous energy buzzing off his skin was unmistakable. "He watched them carve you up and torture you for information about Nesta and Elain." The stabilizing breath he takes shakes his shoulders, the strong line of muscle barely concealed by the tight stretch of his leathers--leathers still stained in the blood of those who'd spilled yours, no doubt. "Rhys said that you didn't say a word. You didn't give them a thing."

"That's good, right?" A pillow is fluffed behind you, shadows doting on every need. "Then, why do you sound so upset?"

"Why do I sound so upset?" Azriel cruelly mocks, his aurate gaze positively smoldering with rage when they land on you. "Because, you almost died! You almost died in my fucking arms before I ever got the chance to—. What the hell were you thinking?"

The beating you'd endured does nothing to quell your fiery spirit, eyes lighting with life and lips running a mile a minute—too fast for your logical brain to keep up with. "I was thinking that they wanted information on your precious, little girlfriend." You all but spit out, childishly pushing away the comfort the duvet from your legs as you attempt to shuffle from Azriel's bed without disturbing the tight wrap of your bandages. Why the hell were you in here anyway? "I was thinking that maybe, it'd be easier for them to fucking butcher me rather than watch what would happen to you if it were Elain there in my place."

Silence stretches along the hardwood floor, cloaking up the length of the walls and muting out the low crackle of the fireplace; its flame gentle and calm in the midst of an emotional storm. "I almost wish you would've let it be her." Azriel fills the void, finally mustering up the courage to face you. "I could've survived that and whatever consequences came along with it because my mate takes precedence above all."

Just like that, all the spitfire you’d prepared in retaliation absolutely dissipates after hearing those two words. “Your mate.”

Azriel doesn’t confirm with words. Instead, he searches inside for the humming gold thread wrapped taut around his ribs, just above his heart and pulls. Fucking yanking at it with all his might and something sparkles in his eye when your body jerks in retaliation.

“You know?”

“How long have you known?”

Your heartbeat hammers against your ribcage, threatening to carve out a hole if that’s what it took to get to its other half. “A while.”

“And you’ve said nothing.” He says, tone sounding almost defeated. “Why wouldn’t you have said anything?”

“Because, Az,” The shadows have seized their tireless caretaking, sliding back into place beside their master as you lose the ability to accept the tender affection. “You wouldn’t have chosen me. Not before Mor and certainly not before Elain.” You’re quick to bristle over that part, not leaving any room for the spymaster to interrupt no matter how expressive his face became. “Besides, the bond is a choice not a burden and that’s what it would’ve been for you if I spoke up about it.” Pure determination is what allows you to bear the brunt of your weight , willing yourself to appear strong in the face of the male who could render you to cinders if he so pleased. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to shower the dungeon smell off of me.”

A childish whine of a noise is ripped from your throat when Azriel huffs out a breath, murmuring something about you being stubborn as hell before carefully picking you up and carrying you to the bathroom. It's embarrassing, a furious blush burning at the apples of your cheeks as he starts the shower, adjusts the temperature and slowly sets you down. "Thank you for that but you don't have to do this. I can handle cleaning myself."

"You can barely stand on solid ground on your own."

"I'll manage."

"I know. What I'm saying is that you don't have to." You nearly faint on the spot when Azriel crouches down in front of you, his hands shaky but sure when unlatching the difficult ties of your fighting leathers. His teeth grit together when the fabric is loosened and carefully worked down your thighs, over your knees and tugged away from your ankles. "Just let me help."

Azriel is nothing short of respectful, you notice. He doesn't sneak salacious peeks at the endless expanse of bare skin that he exposes. Doesn't once mention the tremble of your breath or the way your fingers seem to bite into the flesh of his arms whenever a new article of clothing is removed and dropped to the floor. Even after he's eased you into the shower stream; standing before him, perfectly presented on a soaking wet platter—he keeps his eyes trained on your face.

Shadows thicken over sensual bits, providing a shield between you and the male diligently applying soap to rag. Each drag of the slightly rough material against your skin releases a tension you hadn’t noticed you’d been carrying and all you can do is watch as he rids your skin of the thick film left behind when magic was used to clear away muck.

Eons must past before words are spoken, a this time Azriel is more intentional when he chooses them--more intimate when he relays them. "I'd always hoped for a mate. Ever since I was a boy and my mother told me stories about two halves scouring the world to finally become whole again." You're malleable under his care, pliant when he lifts your arms to scrub underneath and damn-near boneless when he turns you with slippery hands to slowly work the knots from your back. "I had always hoped that one day, I too, would find my equal." Azriel clears his throat, returning back from whatever memory he'd been sucked into but the massage doesn't stop; it only drags lower. "Then so much time had passed and I started to wonder if I couldn't find them because I wasn't being forward enough but that only lead to misplaced affections and unfulfillment."

"Azriel, I'm not sure if I really understand--"

"I felt something for you—something stronger than friendship but I pushed it away. I ignored it and looked elsewhere because I can bare not being as close with Mor and it’s as easy as breathing to never see Elain again but losing you—ruining the peace I feel when I’m with you would’ve broken me.”

Tears well in your eyes, a thickness welling in the back of your throat and your skin burns where his fingers touch, lingering near the dip of your back and just barely curling around the curve of your hips. “Az, you don’t have to say any of this to make me feel better. I just wanted you to be happy. I want you to be happy.”

“Then, please don’t reject it.” His warmth ripples over every inch of you, your neck craning to make room for the forehead he helplessly drops in the crux of your shoulder. The perfect line of his nose drags along the curve of it, inhaling the soothing notes of your scent mixed with his body wash. “Don’t reject me—this is all I’ve ever wanted.” Finally his fingers curl around your hips, the grip gentle but oh, so claiming. “Can’t you feel it? This rightness.”

Raw emotion swims in the amber tones of Azriel’s eyes when you turn in his arms; searching within those rich shades to find any detection of a lie.

Not one reaches your radar.

The line of your vision drops, creeping down his nose until it fixates on the plush pink of his lips. Instinct takes over, offering a gentle nudge until the space between two is eaten up and breath becomes shared as a line was about to be crossed—a prophecy fulfilled.

When Azriel’s lips finally brush against yours, it’s like a coil snaps, unleashing an animal he hadn’t known existed. Sure, he had plenty of experience with childish crushes and boyish infatuation. But this, Cauldron, it nearly takes his breath away with its intensity—the burning desire that rips through his veins like a forrest fire.

One kiss bleeds into two hands desperate to acquaint themselves with your body until all that mattered was you, your spymaster and the sentient shadows protectively surrounding you both. “Azriel,” You all but keen in his ear, chest heaving and hips rolling into the hardness of him pressed against you.

“Mate.”

A whimper cuts through your throat, neck craning to make space for the perfect bruises he was sucking into the skin there. “I want you.”

“You have me,” He promises over the frantic beat of your heart, tongue laving over the soft fat of your breasts. “Even when my bones are rotting in the dirt, I’ll belong to you. My mate. Mine.”

[unpopularwriter25]

HI!! 🩷🩷🫶🫶

Could I request a Tengen x selectively mute fem!reader?

I was listening to the song Valentines by Laufey and just got excited teehee!!

Summary: Tengen and (Y/N) are out on a mission or a date or… somewhere! Tengen is chatting and (Y/N) is quietly listening. Eventually, he compliments her and (Y/N) is surprised. (Y/N) speaks up for like… maybe the first time and tells him that he’s pretty too, then immediately is embarrassed. Tengen laughs it off… (and that’s all i got)

ANYWAYS TYYYSSMM 🩷🩷🩷🫶🫶🫶😭😭

I'VE BEEN WANTING TO WRITE FOR TENGEN!! Thank you for the request!! I hope this is what you wanted! Enjoy!

Unspoken Bonds

Warnings: None

Summary: After a long mission, the flashy and confident Tengen Uzui and the selectively mute Y/N share a quiet yet profound moment at a food stall.

The food stall buzzes with the usual late-night crowd, laughter and conversations mixing with the sizzling sounds of cooking food. Lanterns hanging from the stall's roof cast a warm glow, creating a cozy atmosphere. Tengen Uzui, with his flashy presence and boisterous laughter, stands out effortlessly. His flamboyant appearance and confident demeanor make him the center of attention, even in a crowd.

Across from him, Y/N sits quietly, her chin resting in her hand, occasionally sipping on her drink. Her eyes follow Tengen as he rambles animatedly about their latest mission, his deep voice contrasting with the gentle ambiance of the stall.

"So, there I was, surrounded by those demons," Tengen recounts, gesturing widely with his hands. "And you know what? They didn't stand a chance! With a single swing of my blades, I took them all down. It was truly a flamboyant display of skill, if I do say so myself."

Y/N listens attentively, her eyes never leaving his face. She finds his energy captivating, a stark contrast to her own reserved nature. As he continues his story, she can't help but admire how effortlessly he commands the space around him.

Tengen pauses for a moment, his gaze shifting to Y/N. He takes in her delicate features, the way her eyes seem to sparkle with quiet admiration. A smirk spreads across his face as he leans over, brushing a stray hair out of her face.

"You know, Y/N," he says, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, "you have a quiet beauty about you. It's...quite mesmerizing.

Y/N's eyes widen in surprise, a blush creeping up her cheeks. Her heart races as she gathers the courage to respond. In a soft, almost timid voice, she whispers, "You're pretty too."

Tengen is momentarily taken aback. It's the first time he's heard her speak more than a few words, and her voice is so sweet and soft. His smirk widens into a genuine smile as he watches her face turn even redder, her hands coming up to cover her embarrassment.

With a chuckle, Tengen pushes his hair back, his confidence undiminished. "Oh, I know I am. My three lovely wives are a testament to that."

Y/N remains hidden behind her hands, trying to recover from the unexpected exchange. Tengen leans in closer, his voice low and playful. "Let me see that pretty face."

When she doesn't move, he laughs softly, a hint of challenge in his tone. "Don't make me come over there and remove your hands myself."

Hesitantly, Y/N lowers her hands, her gaze shyly avoiding his. Tengen reaches out, gently taking her chin in his hand and tilting her face up to meet his eyes. Y/N feels like she might pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the closeness.

"You'd make a lovely wife, Y/N," he says, his voice sincere despite the playful glint in his eyes. His smug look softens as he takes in her flustered expression.

With a final, lingering touch, Tengen pulls away and stands up. "Let's head home."

Y/N nods, following behind him as they leave the stall. The night air is cool, and the streets are quieter now. Tengen looks down at her, his tone softer yet still filled with his usual confidence. "I'd like to hear you speak more often, you know. Your voice is...refreshing."

The night around them seems to fade away as they walk together, the warmth of the lanterns and the distant murmur of the crowd blending into the background. For a brief moment, it's just the two of them, connected by a shared understanding and the blossoming of something deeper.

[semperamans]

I read your writing for Johnny I’m FERAL i saw that your on a trip hope your having the best time I understand if this isn’t written asap🫶🏽 but I had an idea for ( jealous) johnny

So you’ve always been around the outlaws not major close but there, then your friend kathy starts dating benny and you slot in with them permanently it’s no secret to anyone that your stunning like the girl on the block that everyone wants type of thing but a sweet heart

Johnny always admired from afar ( maybe you have a secret soft spot for him as well, you both steal glances etc like you know that one person you naturally gravitate toward when in a group of people) but he never made any moves

But then word on the street you’ve finally said yes to a date with someone maybe not a biker but a mechanical (idk) and Johnny overhears the boys speaking about it and he’s like wtf

And v stupid on your part you thought after your date you’d bring him to the bar with everyone and it would be good vibes lol definitely not the only vibes are rude unhappy and jealous Johnny ( everyone’s just sat watching the tension like it’s a movie 😭) maybe he makes your date leave idk

I hope this isn’t too much 🫶🏽

kinda ran with this!

(reader is younger than johnny! slightly nsfw! violence!)

johnny's momma made him go to church on sundays when he was a youngin' and boy he hated it. jus' didn't make any sense to him - believin' in something he couldn't see (and wearin' those ridiculous clothes) - so the minute he turned old enough to make his own decisions he was outta there. i mean, he hasn't seen the inside of a church since he n'betty got hitched years ago - but the strangest damn thing happened to him the other night. he saw a goddamn angel in the flesh and it changed his entire life.

september 1965

johnny always hated the soaps betty watched. fuckin' unrealistic, y'know? s'much as he missed betty, he was glad when she up and left and took the fuckin' antennas with her. time didn't stop whenever ya saw someone attractive. i mean, there was no dreamy music or fuckin' swirlin' sparkles. but then you stumbled into the clubhouse with your sweet smile and long painted nails and swishy dress and johnny was spellbound because what the fuck? he'd never seen you before - that much he knew. if he had seen you 'round prior to this night he woulda called his momma and apologized for not believin' her all these years. a fuckin' angel amongst all these sinners - who woulda thought? you were just so young n'precious; smilin' brightly next to a laughin' kathy. johnny couldn't help but stare n'he tried not to make it obvious, y'know, but who could blame 'em? then you spoke to him. turned your head just so and gave him a little wave and a "hello" that made his heart squeeze and his cock twitch and he knew he was destined to be fucked for the rest of his miserable life.

your big ole eyes lit up when he introduced himself. he gave you the spiel: his name, that he's the president of this rag-tag group of fuckin' bozos, n'like with kathy he made the promise that he wouldn't let nothin' happen to ya. he said it to kathy outta due diligence, y'know? i mean, she looked mortified when she stumbled in through the doors lookin' for dingy - but you? you weren't at all off-put by cockroach's stories or wahoo's slurred speech. you just giggled n'shook your head, wrapping your pink lips around a bottle of pop. maybe you were just too young and naive to realize the relative danger of bein' there, johnny thought. i mean, you were just this sweet girl who fluttered her lashes and saw the good in everyone an' so johnny told himself to let it go. to knock it off. that you were too young. too pure. too angelic. but, well, the road to hell is paved with good intentions, right?

october 1965

"well, look at you," each word that dripped from johnny's mouth had been submerged in lust and coated with longing and he wanted to kick his own fucking ass but you beamed at 'em. you had spearheaded the idea to have a costume party on halloween n'of course all the guys voted yes at the meetin'. it was fuckin' cold that night, but it hadn't stopped wahoo and corky from rippin' their shirts n'jeans an' stealin' cal's earrings to look like pirates. cockroach's wife had affixed long, cloth-wrapped wires to his back so he could resemble his namesake n'sonny'd even found a rubber clown mask that zipco fuckin' hated. then there was you. you - of course - were an angel. it felt like a cruel fuckin' joke when johnny saw ya stumblin' through the door in heels that were a bit too tall of ya. you were a vision of white and wings and feathers and he was so unbelievably in love with you it made him sick. "g'head n'gimmie a twirl, peach. lemme look at ya."

so you did and you always did exactly what johnny said which was something he both hated and adored. you were always so good to 'em. whenever you'd come in with kathy you'd slide a chair right next to him and he'd fuckin' burn whenever your leg kissed his. he felt like a goddamn 16-year-old gettin' hard at the attention you bestowed upon 'em, but he couldn't help it. couldn't help that it made his heart soar when you propped your elbows on the table n'leaned in closer to hear over the crooning music. and it would be so easy to use that power for evil, y'know? to tell ya that he had a hard day n'just needed some lovin' and he knows you'd give it to 'em. such an affectionate girl you were, always huggin' on everyone n'stumblin' into his arms when you had a bit too much to drink. he'd felt your lips against his ear as you whispered drunken secrets to 'em but he'd never felt them on his own and he wanted to. he really fuckin' wanted to kiss you.

"well, what do ya think?"

you didn't seem phased that he had been staring. y'just stood there with a little smile n'your hands slightly outstretched like ya might actually use those wings to fly off. how was johnny to not eat you alive?

"think you look perfect. jus' like the real thing."

because you were.

after knowin' you for a month johnny was certain his initial reaction toward ya hadn't been an exaggeration. you were a goddamn angel - costume or not. at his high praises, you smiled even bigger. he loved your smile. then you were fluttering off to find benny n'kathy to show 'em your pretty wings and all johnny could think about as you high-fived and waved to everyone was how you'd so quickly grown to be an integral part of the group. a room felt empty without your robust laughter n'when you weren't around johnny was wishin' you were. you prettied up the place - prettied up johnny's life - n'maybe god had forgiven him for all the bad shit he'd done in life. i mean, why else would he have given johnny a gift? given johnny you.

but you weren't his.

you were never gonna be his.

and johnny accepts that.

kind of.

january 1966

he doesn't.

johnny doesn't know her name - doesn't care - because she wears the same perfume you do an' with his eyes closed he can almost imagine that it's you under him n'not some random from down the street. you're the one takin' him so well n'tellin' him how good it feels, not her. not this girl who means nothing to him. johnny even moans your name, rookie fuckin' mistake, n'the woman smacks him, which is deserved n'the second she tugs up her dress and leaves johnny is like a wild animal; fuckin' his fist, n'shoving his face into the pillow to chase the fleeting scent of you you you.

februrary 1966

he's ruined.

his thoughts are of you - only you - and they've grown progressively worse. he wants to marry you, to wake up to your sweet smile, to make you a momma, but fuck he can't. you're still so sweet n'young and you have no idea what the real world is like and he wants to ruin your life but he can't. he promised nothin' would happen to you n'he doesn't break promises even if it breaks his fucking heart.

the next time he sees you is at the family picnic. you've got a scarf in your hair n'you're so happy to see him - he knows by the way your face lights up n'you come skippin' over - but then he's shrugging off your hug and goddamn your sorrowful little pout almost breaks him, but he stays on course. when you come to stand by him at the fire, he moves. he doesn't let you sit on his lap when you all settle in and refuses when you ask him to toast your marshmallow and you're so confused. you don't know what you did; how you made him angry n'why he wants nothin' to do with you anymore.

he won't even acknowledge you when you paw at his arm and whisper his name. he stays locked in conversation with wahoo and corky who seem just as confused as you are, but they say nothing.

nothing.

maybe that's all this was after all.

march 1966

johnny doesn't pick up when you call.

he swore he always would, but he doesn't.

april 1966

"oh yeah! she's gotta man now!" kathy says nonchalantly like she didn't just ruin johnny's life. the room feels too hot. what did dingy say? he didn't hear over the ringin' in his fuckin' ears.

"it's that, uh, robbie fella. y'know, the one who works in sharky's garage? yeah, apparently they hit it off n'ya know, now they're goin' steady." kathy's words lodge deep in johnny's brain the way a fuckin' bullet would n'his heart is falin' out of his ass and okay, maybe he wasn't so good at hiding his feelings because benny n'brucie turn to look at him, but he's fine. yeah. no. he's totally fine. he knew this would happen, knew that you would go on about your life. it's what you deserve. nice guy, close in age. yeah. that's fine.

he definitely doesn't punch a hole in the wall picturin' robbie's face.

july 1966

"well, look at you."

johnny's got his back turned, so he isn't sure who sonny is talkin' about til he peers over his shoulder n'almost falls outta his seat. he's too drunk for this, so drunk he's seeing angels because there you are and oh, you look so pretty. how long has it been since he's seen ya? couple of months? my god, you've gotten prettier, somehow. hair is longer now and your eyes actually look happy. you give hugs, avoid johnny, n'then gesture over toward the door where that no good, low down robbie stands.

in truth, robbie's a good kid. all the guys know 'em. i mean, he can't ride - johnny isn't even sure he could hold up a goddamn bike with those scrawny legs - but he knows his way inside and out 'round a bike. the man's brain is like a fuckin' robot n'so of course he gets along with cal and johnny doesn't know why he feels so betrayed when all the guys go stumblin' over to greet the fuckin' traitor. you stay right where you are, though. lookin' over at johnny with unspoken words lodged in your throat. there is so much you wanna say to him, but all you manage is a choked

"hi,"

"get 'em outta here."

your eyebrows furrow, frown etching onto your mouth as you shift your weight from one foot to the next.

"why?"

"because this is my bar n'i wan' 'em gone."

"he hasn't done nothin' to you!"

oh but he has because what's that glintin' on your finger? johnny rises from his seat so quickly he damn near loses his balance, but he regains it quick enough to snatch your hand n'sure enough...

johnny has no right to be upset. i mean, you were never his to begin with, right? but his fucking heart is in pieces all over the floor just like the beer bottle he busts over robbie's head n'there is fuckin' chaos. it takes benny, brucie, and whaoo to pull johnny off robbie. the poor guy hasn't done nothin' wrong; just gave you the life johnny always wanted. like, now, as johnny pants n'winces as kathy cleans up his knuckles, robbie's got your face cradled in his palm. he's kissin' your cheeks and rubbin' his hand down your arm and... pressin' it to your stomach.

johnny never believed much in religion, but he prays that there is some kind of god because he's going to need some forgiveness before the night is through.

[josephquinnswhore]

Hii, I'm new here and loving everything you wrote xD

can I request one pedro x reader in which they meet each other at a party or sth but reader is in a relationship with someone else (famous or not, it doesn't matter) but pedro gets mesmerized and it's pretty much love at first sight on his part and he acts respectfully but yet very flirty saying one day they'll be together and reader will be his and some months or a year or so later they meet again by chance and reader is now single and also sure pedro forgot about her but he didn't and they just flirt again and there's a sparkle there, it could end on smut or not, it's up to you! Thanks 💖

ill wait for love - pedro pascal x female reader

Summary: Pedro waits for you after a love at first sight moment with you.

Word Count: 4.6k

Content Warning: reader has a dirtbag boyfriend, abusive relationship, he threatens to off himself. (Reader is oblivious). Use of whore, hooker etc. Foul language, getting drunk. Bit of spice at the end but nothing actually happens.

Note: thank you for requesting this, I went overboard I’m sorry 😭😭😭🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I decided to change things up a bit to go with the plot I hope that’s okay!!

“You’re not wearing that. You look like a cheap hooker, go change now.” You frown at the comment, liking how the dress sits on you, but you know better to argue, Ben, your new found boyfriend of a few months was sensitive on topics like this; what you’re allowed to wear, but you thought it was sweet, it means he cares about you right? Plus you were his, your body wasn’t meant for wondering eyes.

“Sure hun. Do you want to pick out something nice and I’ll change?” You start to kick of your heels and unzip the knee high silver dress, approaching the mirror in your bedroom, you take a look at yourself and decide he’s right, it’s not the right outfit, you do look cheap.

“Put this on.” He had pulled out a floor length gown, navy blue in colour and it had mesh long sleeves, and a high neckline, it kind of felt suffocating but you didn’t argue. “Zip me up?” He does, his hands feel like fire on your skin, and like a flame you try not to flinch at the warmth on your cool skin.

“What do you think?” You ask, twirling for him, holding your hands in front of your stomach, fingers intertwined in a nervous twitch as you rub your fingers together. He smiles, his suit hanging off him loosely as he walks towards you. “You look perfect. That’s my girl.” You relish in the compliment, your eyes flutter shut and he kissed you on the forehead, smoothing your hair after he disturbs it.

“You can put those black heels back on, I love how they make your ass look, but I better not catch anyone else looking.” You’re grateful to wear the heels, not really wanting to wear flats of sneakers to a work after party. You check your watch, you were running late now, you had to get there. “Are we ready to go?” Ben hums in return and slightly pushes on the small of your back to get you moving, you almost trip on the fraying carpet of the bedroom.

When you get into the car, the aircon is blasting in your face, the music is too quiet and you wish you had something to focus on that would take the nerves away. You decide on smoothing your dress over and over in an attempt to calm yourself.

“What are our social rules? Tell me babe.” You knew this was coming, the rules he’d set every time you’d go to a public function together, in which you reasoned, he just wanted to keep you safe, he didn’t want to be seen with a slob.

“1. No swearing or cursing. 2. No hanging out with guys without you. 3. No getting stupid drunk.”

He looks at you with pride in his eyes and offers you a lopsided grin. “There’s my good girl.” You feel yourself smiling, cheeks hurting as you force the grin, all you want to do is make him happy, proud of you.

When you get to the event his eyes are watchful of the people around you, his hand immediately meets your ass as he leads you around like his award winning show animal.

The noise from inside the club is booming from outside, you come across your security guard from work and he greets you. “Good evening miss, sir. Enjoy the night.” He winks playfully and you smile at the tall man, “thank you Simon, be seeing you!” Your boyfriend scoffs from beside you and your smile drops, not wanting to annoy him already, you had just gotten here.

The music was loud inside the club, the lights were colourful and the speed in which they move around began to hurt your sensitive eyes. When you move into the dance floor, a familiar voice comes through the speaker. “Here’s the women that made it all happen, everyone give her a round of applause.” The DJ pointed to you and you flush red, bashful all of a sudden as your work colleagues cheer for you. You wave in a thanks and you’re about to keep moving when your co-owners stand on the stage, baring teeth as they grin at you, the music has stopped now and Ben pulls you to him roughly with his arm around your waist.

“Thanks to this lovely lady, for pushing us to make the game so special to us into a tv show, which has been shown so much love in return and unspeakable success, without you we would have found our new family.” You’re crying at the speech Andy and Jason are giving, and you thank the gods your make up is waterproof.

“We want to give you the pleasure of inviting you back to our VIP area with a few more special guests in our team tonight, what do you say?” The room goes quiet and you’re cheering, nodding yes. How could you refuse that offer, Ben stands beside you however is furious, you hadn’t consulted him, you had publicly embarrassed him as he had not been invited, he wouldn’t be allowed in. What were you trying to do, get away from him? Not going to happen.

“You’re not fucking going in there, I can’t protect you in there.” His hand is on your wrist and you wince, pulling away from his grip as Andy and Jason come over, eyeing the two of you before leading you away, “come on, let’s get this started hm?” Jason stays behind, feeling the first hand anger of your boyfriend being embarrassed, “sorry man, no plus ones.” He held his hand out to stop him and walked off, unaware of the holes Ben was burning in the back of his head. You turn around and mouth ‘I’m sorry’ but by the look in his eyes as he watches the men lead you away, you’d fucked up, badly.

You turn to the men, anxiety clawing up the back of your throat, “hey Um, maybe I should go, you know.” The men look at each other and shake their head, “absolutely not.” Andy huffs. “You’re coming with us, pretty lady.” Jason compliments. That would only get you in even more trouble.

The VIP area was stunning, there was one giant lounge that was in the shape of a half circle, the dark red velvet felt amazing as you graze your fingers over it, a large chestnut wooden table sits in the middle. The people who already are seated, stand up to greet you. First is Bella Ramsey, you pull them into you, squeezing them before you let go. “You look beautiful you know.” You shrug it off caustically, “and you look handsome.” Your fingers run across the blue suit they wear, the blue brighter than your own dress but still looked like you dressed to match.

Next was Anna Torv, her long blonde hair sits on her shoulders, you smile as you see her, you’re both mock screaming as she pulls you into her. Your chin rests on her shoulder, in your heels you’re almost as tall as her without. “It’s so great to see you, you’re looking stunning.” She gives you a once over once she pulls back, looking you up and down before smacking your ass. “How have things been with Ben?” You sigh, people knew things weren’t great but was the only one who spoke of it.

“He’s upset I came in here, I dunno maybe it was a mistake coming at all, i just wanna forget Anna,” she grins, “then we’ll make you forget hun, what’s your poison?” You hum, looking at the menu she had handed you that was sat on the table, “it’s gotta be a fruit tingle, I would die for one right now.” She walks towards the private bar and orders you a drink. The last man that’s in the room and coming towards you is Pedro Pascal, an emerald green suit clings to his broad shoulders, a black turtle neck fits him deliciously underneath, his hair is messy in a way that makes you swoon, the unruly curls and patchy beard have you swooning for the man before he even says a word to you.

“Hi I’m Pedro, it’s so wonderful to meet you again, we’ll properly this time.” You give him a lopsided smile, “it is wonderful to meet you properly. How are you enjoying your evening?” He shrugs, “I haven’t had the chance to check out the bar yet, care to join me?” You nod, “sure, Anna’s just ordered me a drink.”

When you get to the bar Anna turns to you, seeing Pedro in tow by your side, she gives you a smirk and you raise an eyebrows, giving her a look that ceases her action. “Hey pretty lady I was just coming to find you, here.” Pedro orders a whisky as he stands beside you. She hands you the drink and you sip out of the straw, stirring the ice and watching as it swirls around the glass. “Pedro, this is gonna be a great night dontcha think?” He looks at you, actually taking you all in with a slow up and down look.

He takes a sip from his glass, nodding to himself. “Yeah, it’ll be a good night.” The words left unspoken were in her company.

Hours go by and you realise you’re tipsy, you should probably stop now while you’re ahead, you’re sat between Pedro and Anna, the two are up to a whole lot of mischief when they hang out, now you’ve been dragged into it. “So you’re the beautiful lady I gotta thank for turning the game into the tv series huh? Anna told me you’re a founder of Naughty Dog.”

You shrug, your humbleness was something everyone admired. “I thought it would be awesome to see it on screen you know, I grew up playing the game and wanted to do something special with it as an adult. Keep the story alive.” Pedro sits with his legs towards you, leaning in close to listen as the music blasts over the speakers, lifting his drink to his lips as he takes a sip, his tongue licks the sticky residue off after some drips from the cup.

“I actually pushed the casting director to try and see if you’d be interested in the role when I realised you’d auditioned, I just knew we had to have you.” Your words sent Pedro’s cheeks flushing bright red, he runs a hand through his hair at your drunken confession. “So you’re the woman I have to thank for my success.” You set your drink down on a coaster on the table, your hand on Pedro’s knee as you give him a sincere look. “You’ve got no one to thank but yourself, you’re a talented actor and I’m sorry it’s taken the world this long to appreciate you and your hard work.”

Pedro thinks he fell in love then and there, he wanted to pull you into him, kiss you with all his might and take you home. But he couldn’t, he saw you walk in with some guy that’s the opposite of how he looks, blonde hair, green eyes and a slim build, there’s no way you’d find him attractive. He shoots his shot anyway; being too drunk to care about the consequences, especially not the fact you’re literally his boss. “You’re gonna be mine someday, beautiful lady. I gotta have you.” You bite your lip as you look up at him, wishing now for nothing more than to kiss him and let him take you home.

“Yeah sure, Pascal whatever you say.” You roll your eyes playfully and stand wobbly, he helps you up and holds you in place as you wipe your sweaty hands on your dress, Pedro’s flirty and charming personality was taking its toll on you.

“I better head home, it was incredible to meet you properly. Hopefully we can catch up again soon.” You smile, your face completely red as you realise how much you’ve had to drink. His face is unreadable and a beat goes by before he offers, “why don’t I take you home, just so I know you get home safe.” You turn around and look, not being able to see Ben anywhere in the general club area, you’re humming and ah’ing about what to do. “I came here with someone, I should probably wait for him.”

“Actually, your boyfriend left like an hour ago, he was super pissed about something.” Your heart drops to your stomach, fuck.

You rush to gather your things and scramble in a panic that worries Pedro. He stops you with a hand, “hey, you’re in no state to go home alone, let’s catch a cab.” Your heart rate is pounding so fast you think you might spew. “Okay.”

The cab stinks of cigarettes and cheap cologne, a bitter mix that had your gag reflex heaving, you had to fight the nausea of the car rocking back and forth not to spew in the car. Pedro rubs your shoulders as you slump into him, his hands tucking your loose strands of hair behind your ears. “Hey, keep your eyes open for me gorgeous, don’t fall asleep you’re almost home.” Home. If your home was with Ben then why did everything with Pedro feel so natural, so beautiful and seemed to be flourishing already. You sighed, you’d have to go back to Ben and he would be furious with you.

The cab comes to a halt and you open the door, turning back to Pedro, “let me walk you to your door.” Pedro offers, you shake your head, “he’s already mad I don’t-I don’t wanna make him angrier. See you around.” You offer a small smile before wobbly stepping out of the cab into the cold air, it was 12:38. The cold nipped at every crack and crevice in your body, only warming after you had climbed 3 sets of stairs to get to your apartment, the elevator was unavailable to use after 11:30pm, stupid assholes whoever made that rule.

As you get to your door, your chest is heaving, you bring your keys up to the door to unlock it and turn the key, but it doesn’t unlock, you try every key on your lenyard but it doesn’t work, he’s changed the locks; again. You start to bang on the door, not wanting to deal with his bullshit this late, you were exhausted, just wanting to go to bed. With no reply you start banging on the door more furiously, “Ben let me in!” You stand for a few more minutes and you hear shuffling, “you can find somewhere else to stay tonight, whore.” You sigh, “please ben, just let me in.” He scoffs, the sound muffled through the door, “get lost.” His footsteps shuffle away and you hit the door and yell, “fuck you!”

You race out of the building, heels in hands by the time you get to the bottom of the stairs, tears in your eyes and body freezing. You ring Anna a few times, who was by the sound of it, still at the club. She was surprised to hear you crying, but not really. “Hey An, can you come get me please? I need a place to stay tonight.” Your voice is wobbling and shaking at the cold air and the emotions you’re feeling.

“Stay where you are hun I’m coming to get you.”

You weren’t sure how long you waited before Anna shows up, Simon was driving and he got out of the car to help you up off the sidewalk, your shoes still in your hands as your feet ache from 6 flights of stairs you’d walked tonight. As Simon helps you up, you hear Ben yelling to you, cheeks red and gasping for breath. “Babe wait! Wait please.” You turn to him, a scowl on your face as you wait for him to explain himself. “Don’t leave babe please. I need you, you’re the only one that stops me from hurting myself, please don’t leave.”

You freeze, you didn’t want him to hurt himself, of course you didn’t. You were scared it would be all your fault if something did happen, that’s what made you stay as long as you did. Anna steps between you, offering a barrier between you to protect you from the manipulation, “she’s coming with me Ben.” Ben growls when you don’t come to his defence. “I’ll fucking kill myself if you leave me.” He shouts at you, “it’ll be your fault you know!” You’re sobbing and shaking into Anna as she leads you to the backseat of the car. “No wait! Babe please wait! I’m sorry I’ll change!”

Simon shoves Ben as he nears the car, a clear warning of what he’ll do to protect you. As Simon drives off you head the distant shout of, “you’re nothing without me!” You sob and Anna pulls you into her, running a hand through your hair as she shushes you, “you know none of that nonsense is true hun. I’ve got you.” She kisses the top of your head and let’s you cry into her, she feels a sense of pride when you speak through your tears, “I’m done An, I’m finally done for good.” She had never been more proud of you.

The next time Pedro sees you is nearly 10 months after your proper meeting at the work place party. You had returned to work after months in therapy and working on yourself, it had been hard work, trying to reverse all that Ben had done to you. You’d even gone to the lengths of getting a restraining order after he had followed you around town a few times, even sitting in the workplace parking lot waiting for you to finish work.

You looked different to the first time he got to know you, not by physical appearance, but you had a shine about you, you were glowing in your own warmth that had come from your hard work alone. You had been shuffling through some paperwork when Pedro had knocked on your door in the office, you’re met with a nervous Pedro, you have a gentle smile on your face and welcome him in, “please, have a seat.” He sits across from you and you set your paperwork down.

“Is everything okay?” He shuffles, “uh yeah everything’s fine, I just wanted to say it’s great to have you back.” Your heart flutters at his kindness, he was such a sweetheart. “Thank you Pedro, it’s incredible to be back, is there anything else?” You didn’t want to rush him out, in fact you loved his company, but you could tell there was something that was bothering him.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong, but I’d like to take you out for dinner, you know, on a date.” You smile at him, finally.

When you don’t reply as a beat passes he’s chuckling nervously, “sorry I said anything I must’ve-“ you stand over the desk and caress his face that’s looking up with to you with those chocolate brown orbs, full of vulnerability which makes you want him more. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask for months, of course I’ll go on a date with you.” His breath hitches when he realises how close you are, you kiss the corner of his lips and sit back down on your seat, picking your paperwork back up.

He watches you, stunned with your confidence and your actions, “pick me up from mine at 8?” Pedro nods, cutely stuttering as he agrees, “right, y-yes 8 will do perfectly!”

“Alright handsome, now get back to work.” You wink to him, “yes ma’am.” He says before leaving. Your heart is hammering so hard in your chest you’re finding it hard to focus on any paperwork. You start to wonder what the hell you’re gonna wear to dinner.

Pedro shows up at your house at 7:45pm, a punctual man is such a turn on. You’re shimmering your dress down a little bit so it sits comfortably, the red dress accentuates your body perfectly, the sweetheart neckline shows off a decent amount of cleavage without leaving nothing to the imagination, your gold heels were sparkling in the hallway light, your purse hanging off your shoulder as you answer the door. “Hey,” he says as if he’s breathless, and hands you a bouquet of flowers, he’s wearing a navy blue suit that’s unbuttoned, a white turtleneck sits comfortably underneath.

“Hi.” You greet, not hiding how obvious you are to checking him out. “You look so handsome,” you muse, taking the flowers and hold them to your chest. His cheeks flush as red as your dress, he takes your hand to lead you to his black Audi, “you look breathtaking, I’ve never felt luckier.” He opened the door for you and you sit down, carefully setting thr bowyer down at your feet, to your surprise, he leans over you and buckles your seatbelt in for you.

It drives you crazy, the smell of his natural musk mixed with cologne and his hair mousse. You have to fight the urge to bite the flesh on his neck to claim him as your own.

The radio is quiet as he drives to your location, the gps interrupting the song playing as it directs Pedro to take a right at the next set of traffic lights, he’s still beside you, looking like he’s fighting himself internally. You reach over and set a gentle hand on his thigh, that seems to relax him as he takes the right turn, his hand rests on top of yours as you encourage him to relax.

“You have arrived at your destination.”

The building was fancy; that was an understatement. It was a large building, what you can only assume are thousands of bricks and large open windows, the parking is exclusive and he picks a spot that he reserved, having to punch his reservation number into the device before the gates opened for him to enter.

“Thank you, such a gentleman.” You compliment as he opens the door for you. He readjusts his suit jacket, nerves getting the best of him as he locks his car as you walk towards the entrance of the building. You feel the ghost of his hand on the small of your back, as if he’s scared to actually touch you.

The interior of the building was beyond what you could’ve imagined, the lighting was dim; romantic. The music was quiet and the building was completely empty; had he rented out this whole thing? Just for you? The first man you meet is dressed in a suit, “welcome, Mr Pascal, please join us at our finest table.” He leads you away from the main area, into a reserved room which was stylishly decorated with balloons, rose petals and two tall candles on the table.

“Oh Pedro, you didn’t do this all for me did you?” He pulls your seat out for you and sits across from you, “it’s too much isn’t it? I knew I was going overboard. I’m sorry.” You frown at him, your hand caressing his own on the table, the silk tablecloth was gentle on your fingertips. “Pedro, listen to me sweetheart I’m only going to say this once.” His brown orbs meet yours, worried about what might come from your mouth.

“I like you, I have for a long time, okay? Whatever we do together I’m happy with. We could’ve went to McDonalds and I would’ve had a great time with you. No matter where we are or what we do. Now unclench your jaw and relax your shoulders handsome.” He obeys you, you see him visibly relax at your orders and he gives you a bashful look, he’s trying not to apologise. “Thank you, I just-after everything you’ve been through. I wanted it to be perfect.”

Your heart aches at his sweet confession, the words stick to your heart like thick honey. “Oh Pedro, it’s always been you sweetheart. You are perfect for me, perfect to me.”

The waiter comes with the first course, you hum in delight at the taste that tingles on your tastebuds.

“You know, Anna was the one that pushed me to ask you out, she knew I wanted to I was just-spineless I guess.” You laugh, of course she did.

“She’s been rooting for us since that night at the club, I don’t blame her. Look at us.”

The second entree is delivered to you, as well as the waiter offering wine in which you accept, you both opting for red. You sip on your red wine as you pick at your food, talking and eating in between bites.

“You know I’ve had a crush on you ever since game of thrones, how could I not, are you kidding. Oberyn Martell was the love of my life as a young adult.” Pedro laughs at that, the crows feet by his eyes are endearing to you. The sound of his laugh is like the sweetest symphony you’ve ever heard.

“He’s everything I want to be, the sexiest guy ever.” You can’t contain the smile that breaks on your lips, “please, have you seen yourself? Every person on the internet right now wants Daddy Pascal.”

The sultriness of your voice wasn’t meant to be that-sexual. It had just slipped out-kind of. Pedro was cut off by the main course arriving, the smell was delightful and tasted even better with the accompaniment of the wine.

“What do you think of the whole daddy thing?” He asks, it’s not a question you’re expecting to come from him. You nearly choke on your food from laughing, you carefully swallow the food, the fullness becoming more and more with every bite, you were thankful the last course was dessert.

“I think it’s sexy.” You deadpan, honesty is the best policy right?! He spits his wine into his napkin, obviously not expecting that to come from your lips.

“I don’t have daddy issues, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just think it’s sexy that you embrace it, like you’re a dad for all the people out there that don’t have a good father figure. I think it’s sexy because I can imagine how good of a father you would be to your own children.”

Pedro watches you, dumbstruck, completely and utterly in love with you, without a doubt you are meant for him. The waiter clears your table, returning a few minutes later with dessert, the last course.

You sit in comfortable silence, you don’t mind that he didn’t say anything back, it’s a lot to take in and process and maybe you could’ve been crossing a line-but you wanted to be completely honest with him about your feelings.

“I think I love you.” He sputters out, “no.” He nearly shouts, earning a confused look from you, “I know I love you. God I want you to be mine.” His fingers are tapping on the table in a nervous stim, trying to draw the nerves away from his mouth and anything stupid he might say.

“I’m yours sweetheart.” It’s everything he wants to hear, you waltz over to him, sit on his lap sideways and play with the curls on the nape of his neck, “I’m yours Pedro.” He leans forward and brushes your lips together softly. You pull away after a few seconds and his pupils are blown out, dopamine flowing through the two of you creates a high you’ve never felt.

His fingers trace the hem of your dress, tickling your thigh which emits a low groan from you, “you’re gonna be mine forever right?” He already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear it. His fingers dance up your thigh, kissing your shoulder as he looks at you through his dark lashes. “Yeah baby, ‘m all yours, forever.”