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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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What're friends for?

AN: As a fellow weeb, bringing up Soobin and hentai was only a matter of time. This is just crack tbh. Also, this is just me once again pushing the Boobs enthusiast! Soobin and Sub! Soobin agendas. (Also also, I was tipsy while editing this so, hopefully it's some level of coherent 💀)

Synopsis: A night that was supposed to be spent watching anime with your best friend takes a sharp turn when he accidentally forgets to close his hentai tab.

Heads up: Choi Soobin x Fem! Reader, mostly pwp, friends to friends who fuck, crack, mentions of hentai, Dom! Reader, Sub! Soobin, dirty talk, Reader thinks Soobin is cute and calls him cute a lot, handjob, oral sex (m. receiving), Reader has boobs big enough to give Soobin a titjob, titjob and Soobin cums on Reader's face and tiddies.

Word count: 2353

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

"Hurry up!" you yell, making yourself comfortable on Soobin's bed as you wait for him to return from the kitchen with drinks.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. It's not like My Hero is going to go anywhere," he retorts when he finally returns with two glasses and a bottle of soda, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah but, we barely get to spend time together in person and I don't want to waste it," you respond, moving over a little so he can comfortably settle beside you.

"True but, you don't need to yell," he says, rolling his eyes at you and grabbing his remote to switch on his TV.

Any response you have dies on your tongue when loud moans assault your ears. You're startled when you turn to see hentai playing on Soobin's screen. A pretty graphic scene of the male protagonist getting a titfuck from a woman with a...generous bust plays out on the screen, obscene sounds emitting from both of them.

Soobin fumbles with the remote, rushing to turn the TV off as quickly as he can. Silence rings out throughout his bedroom.

"Don't," is all he manages to choke out, his face speedrunning its way into scarlet territory.

"Hey, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. A lot of people watch porn," you say sincerely.

Soobin makes a noise that's a combination of embarrassment, frustration and distress. He refuses to look in your direction, choosing instead to stare holes into his bedroom door. Looking for all the world that he hopes the earth underneath him would open and swallow him whole.

"Seems like I was right about you being a boob guy atleast," you say jokingly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

He turns to face you so fast you're half surprised he doesn't snap his neck. "Who- how- why are you talking about what I prefer?" He asks, and his voice cracks halfway through.

"Soobin, relax, none of this is that big of a deal," you shrug, "You're not exactly... subtle when you take peaks at my boobs. Also, I just think you have boob guy energy. Can't really explain it beyond that."

You've never seen Soobin look like he's wished for death more than right now.

"I'm sorry for staring at your- um- it's inappropriate and really disrespectful-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm not offended. I'm pretty flattered, actually," you respond with a wave of your hand.

He looks stunned then, "Wha-what? You're not offended? Wait, you're flattered? Why?"

"Who doesn't feel flattered when someone thinks they're attractive?" You ask with a laugh, "Really, this doesn't have to be a big deal, Soobin."

"You're not the one whose porn habit was just exposed," he fires back but, it's difficult to take him seriously with that cute flush still colouring his cheeks.

"I don't mind sharing if you're really that curious,"

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Yet you think I'm attractive so, what does that say about you?"

Soobin looks like he's 5 seconds away from yelling.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," you soothe with minimal laughter this time around. Giving his arm a comforting squeeze. He says nothing after that, and the two of settle into a tense silence. However, you've always been too curious and talkative for your own good.

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Tried what?" He asks with his face scrunched up cutely in confusion.

"What they were doing in the hentai. Have you ever gotten a titjob?" You ask, genuinely curious.

The strangled noise he let's out starts to make you consider that maybe you are taking this a little too far.

"No," he mumbles out, dragging his hand across his face and pointedly looking at anything in his room that isn't you.

"Would you like to?"

"What?" Soobin's wide, startled eyes meeting yours. As though he's not entirely sure he heard you correctly.

"Would you like one? I wouldn't mind," you say sincerely. You've always thought your best friend was attractive and, clearly, he thinks you're attractive too. The circumstances couldn't be more perfect if you tried.

Soobin just stares at you for a long minute. His lips parted, and eyes wide.

"Are you... serious?"

"Yeah. I know I tease and joke a lot but, I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't serious,"

"You don't have to do this out of some misplaced sense of pity or whatever. I'll survive being embarrassed,"

"I'm not. I really want to. You can obviously say no. I'd never hold it against you, but I'm not offering out of pity. Not in the slightest,"

Soobin seems to still not believe this is all real, but he doesn't look quite as skeptical, and he's looking at you now, so that's a start.

"Okay," he says so softly that you almost miss it. Anticipation courses through you when his words do finally register. You shuffle closer to him then. Feeling a bit of pride when his blush darkens and his hands nervously toy with his sheets.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?"

"Yes," the already breathy quality of his voice makes your insides squirm. It's cute how he jumps slightly when your hand rests dangerously high on his thigh. You don't give him much time to think about it, though, because soon your lips are against his.

The moan he let's out goes straight to pussy. A dull ache already settling in as you try your best not to push him down and straddle his lap. You can't help the uptick of your lips when you feel him shudder as your tongue teases his mouth. He's just so fucking cute.

"You can touch me, you know," you tell him when you trail kisses along his jaw. Your hand moving further up his thigh as you shift closer to him.

"I did-didn't want to ma-make you uncomfortable," he stutters out, hands hovering nervously over you. "Soobin, you're going to be fucking my tits. It's completely fine to touch me," and to prove your point, you grab one of his gigantic hands and press it to one of your breasts.

Choosing not to wear a bra today definitely worked out for you. He seems to take initiative from there. Tentatively squeezing and letting a breathless 'fuck' as he takes in how soft you are.

Before you can utter more teasing remarks, his other hands weaves its way into your hair, and he meets your lips in a frenzied kiss. You moan against his pillowy lips when his thumb brushes over your nipple through your shirt. That just seems to egg him on more. Groaning into you when he gives you a particularly harsh squeeze.

For your part, your hands toy with the waistband of his sweats. Smiling when you feel his abdomen tense and jump with ever brush of your fingertips.

"Y/n," he whines, hips jerking towards you. "Yes?" You pull back and ask coyly, the ache between your thighs worsening as you take in how dishevelled he already looks.

"You're playing with me," he says with a pout and god, you want to ruin him. However, you push down the thought. You don't want to scare him off so soon.

"Playing with you? How?" You ask, titling your head in faux confusion.

"You're teas-teasing me. I want you t-to touch me," he rushes out so quickly you nearly miss his words. When you register what he says, your walls clench hard. You're a little surprised he said it so directly. Maybe he's becoming desperate. Cute.

"I am touching you, Soobin," you don't fail to notice the way he shudders when you say his name.

"You know what I mean,"

"I don't. You have to be specific,"

For a brief moment, you think he isn't going to respond. Maybe too embarrassed to tell you what he wants exactly.

"I want you to touch my cock," he whispers and, you pounce.

You don't give him a moment to comprehend what's happening. Kissing him fiercely as your hand snakes its way down his sweats and boxers. You both moan into each other at the contact. Fuck, he's much bigger than you fantasised about. Hot and incredibly hard in your palm.

"You're already so hard," you tease as you dot kisses along his jaw and, barely stroke him. The copious amounts of the pre-cum he's leaked out making for an easy glide nonetheless. Briefly, you wonder if he'd let you sit on it and ride him to your heart's content. Another time maybe.

"Yeah, for you," he moans, eyes fluttering shut and hips jolting against your hand to get as much friction as he can. It's not fair in the slightest how good he looks like this. His words certainly don't help either.

Impatiently, you tug his boxers and sweats down, and the sight of him flushed an appealing red makes you clench hard.

"Is it okay if I suck you off? Going in dry wouldn't be...pleasant," you ask, watching him for any signs of hesitance. However, you're met with the opposite. A throaty groan falling from his plush lips and his cock twitching against his stomach. This man really might just be the death of you.

"Yeah, it's okay," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze as the blush in his cheeks darken.

"You're so fucking cute," you breathe, kissing his neck and stroking him less leisurely this time around. His moans and the jerky, shallow thrusts of his hips into your hand make you grin against his skin and, your insides squirm.

"Shut up," he retorts but, it's severely undercut by how fucked out he already sounds. His hands gripping the sheets harshly.

"Oh?" You ask with faux innocence, stilling your hand around the base of his cock. Biting back a giggle when he whines and tries to fuck your hand for any sort of friction.

"Fu-fuck, fine. I'm so-sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" He grits out.

"Good boy," you say with a grin that's likely a tad too smug. Giving his jaw one more kiss, you ease yourself onto his floor. Honestly, you're impressed you're being so composed about all of this. Your breath stuttering in your lungs when you're eye level with his ridiculously appealing cock.

Soobin feels himself throb when your soft breaths hit him. It's made worse when he sees your tongue lick your lips and the look in your eyes. You look like you want to devour him.

The sharp gasp he let's out when you take your first lick of him goes straight to your clit. Ruined panties sticking to you uncomfortably as you familiarise yourself with the slightly salty taste that is all Soobin. His hips instinctively buck into you when you finally decide to stop toying with the poor man and, see how far you can take him.

"Fuc-fuck, sorry," he groans, eyes shut tightly as he tries his best to reign in his reactions. Such a cutie. You'd tell him so if your mouth wasn't filled with his dick. A mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum slipping past your lips and down your chin. Your hand stroking what you can't fit in your mouth and making sure he's thoroughly coated.

However, as much as you'd happily make him cum down your throat and keep sucking him off until he cries, tonight isn't about that.

His eyes are frantic and glassy when they meet yours. He looks so genuinely offended that you stop sucking him off that it almost makes you laugh. "Why?" Is all his foggy brain can seem to supply and you really want to kiss him.

Instead of answering him with words, you tug off your shirt and Soobin doesn't seem so upset anymore. Fiery eyes take in your breasts and committing them to memory. You don't fail to notice his cock twitching against his stomach, a fresh drop of pre-cum leaking out of him. God, he's just so easy.

"Still complaining?" You can't help but, tease. However, any response he would've given you dies on his tongue when you cup your breasts and envelope his slick cock in them.

The moan that flies from his lips is so wanton and broken that you can practically feel yourself soaking through your shorts. His eyes are shut as he tries his best not to fuck up into your ridiculously soft tits. Such a good boy.

You notice his large hands grip his sheets even more fiercely than before when you start to move. Allowing him to get accustomed to the glide of his cock between the valley of your breasts.

"Fe-Feels so good," he stutters out, weakly bucking into your touch. You've never felt more aroused in your entire life. He's so sensitive and responsive. You're sure you could have him cumming within minutes.

You bite back a grin when he gasps as you lick and suck at the head of his cock that pokes out. Looking up at him through fluttering lashes with his tip in your mouth and the rest of him nestled comfortably between your unfairly soft tits. His pre-cum and your saliva smearing your breasts.

You knew it wouldn't take much but, it still startles you when Soobin cums. He babbles out apologies as his hips jolt against you. His warm, thick cum landing on your tongue, face and breasts before you can even fully comprehend what just happened.

His cum isn't unpleasant. A little salty and you swallow it as he cock begins to soften between your breasts. You give him an apologetic look when he shudders as you slowly remove him from between your breasts. Looking around for anything to clean yourself up with.

"Fuck, again I'm so sorry," he apologises reaching into his bedside table for a few tissues, "here you go. I didn't mean to...make a mess."

Those words really shouldn't affect you as much as they do. At this point, you're sure even your shorts are ruined.

"It's okay. Honestly, it was really hot seeing you fall apart like that,"

The embarrassed, strained groan he gives you makes you smile harder than perhaps strictly necessary. He really is just so easy.

#choi soobin smut #soobin smut #txt smut

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sonarspace · 1 month

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appointment, fem!geto

a/n: fem suguru is constantly on my mind so here's this... content: fem!geto. laser tech!geto. x reader (fem). nsfw. wc: 906

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

you walk in to the clinic right on time for your appointment. the receptionist lets you know that your usual laser technician hasn't come in today and someone else will be replacing her.

not expecting that you're nervous as you wrap a towel around your body and lay onto the bed - waiting for your new laser tech. she walks in with a big smile, "hii, my name's suguru. i'll be taking care of you today" she chirps.

she was beautiful, you thought. the kind of beautiful that drives all coherent thoughts out of your brain and jumbles your words. her long black hair tied into a half bun while the rest drapes over her shoulders and back. her bangs frame her face perfectly.

"i take it, you're not much of a talker," she chuckles lightly — bringing you out of your thoughts. you meek out a "sorry" as you introduce yourself. she undos her half updo and grabs all her hair back into a bun. your eyes move over her face and then over her neck. you wondered how smooth the skin of her neck would be. how smooth it would feel under your lips.

you breathe in heavily when she moves closer to where you're laying. scared that she might've read your thoughts. "i've done this a lot, so you don't have anything to worry about. just spread your legs a bit and stay still for me, okay?" she tries to comfort you.

you hum and do as she says. spreading your legs enough so she can get a perfect view of your cunt. you gulp when you feel her soft hands on your thighs.

so soft, suguru thinks when her hands move over your thighs. eliciting goosebumps across your skin. you looked so pretty laying like this. a cute nervous pout on your lips. a wetness coating your cunt. was this because of her? she wonders.

your hole clenches around nothing as her eyes move between you and your cunt. a small smirk plays on her lips. "you okay?" she teases. her thumb rubs smalls circles into the skin of your inner thigh. close to where you needed her.

not thinking it through, you whine out a "please". it was a gamble really. you weren't sure if she wasn't into women. you think you'd die on the spot out of embarrassment if she rejects you. but you were lucky. cause she was into women. especially the ones who looked like you — innocent but far from it.

"what do you want, pretty girl?" her hand inches closer — a finger grazing your wetness. "you," you whisper in desperation. as soon as the three letter word is out of your mouth, a carnal need takes over her and she's pulling you closer to her mouth.

you gasp as her mouth makes contact with your pussy. a peck to your clit, as if she was greeting it. a peck to your folds. a peck to your hole. "suguru," you lean on your elbows as you call out her name. growing needy and undeniably wet.

she licks a stripe from your hole to your clit. her lips wrapping around your nub and sucking hungrily. she hums in satsifaction at the taste of you. sweet with a little bit of a kick to it. loving the feel of your fine hair that entrapped your wetness, she tugs it lightly with her teeth. eliciting a deep groan from you.

"you're gonna get us caught," she huffs a laugh. you try to but can't keep quiet as she continues her assault on your needy cunt. your body was reacting to her every touch. her hands move over your towel, tugging and letting it fall around you.

her mouth gapes slightly as she takes you in your bare body. she keeps her eyes on your face as her hand cups your boob - squeezing lightly and moving her thumb of your hardened nipple. your eyes squeeze shut as her tongue moves in and out of you.

she moans at the way your hole clenches around her tongue — the sound reverberating throughout the room. she pulls back from your cunt in need for a proper breath. her chin coated in your wetness. before she can go back you pull her towards you. "kiss me," you plead her.

you both hum as your lips make contact. you can taste yourself on her lips. on her tongue as she pushes it in. moving over yours languidly. taking her time. completely opposite to her hand in between your thighs which moved at a vigorous pace. "so close," you whine into the kiss.

the pleasure takes over your body and she keeps her lips locked with yours, swallowing your moans. if this was her bed, she would have you screaming her name as you cum, but she can't take that risk here.

you fall back on the bed breathing heavily as you watch her eyes roll back at the taste of you on her fingers. she grabs a towel and cleans you up quickly. "i think you need to let it grow a little longer," she jokes. and you both laugh.

"can i take you on a date, tonight?" she asks breaking the silence. "yeah," a blush creeps up your neck. an innocent smile on your lips and she's instantly thinking of how it would look around her strap. would you be into that? she can't wait to find out.

𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆. 𓆝⋆. 𓇼 ˚｡𓆉 ⋆𓇼 ⋆.

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lillotte17 · 1 month

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I just woke up, so good morning, let me see if I can string any words together in a coherent pattern. This has actually been on my mind for weeks. Slowly driving me insane.

200 years. Two. Hundred. Years. 2 HUNDRED years.

That amount of time is literally incomprehensible to us in terms of personal memories and trauma. We can barely remember anything collectively as a species for that amount of time without losing bits and pieces of it. It is more than 2/3 of the time that Astarion has been alive. Well, "alive."

I am currently in my mid thirties, it would be like if I had died when I was 7 or 8 years old and then had to try and remember everything about my personality and my family and my morality from that time period. I do remember it, of course, but a lot of it is pretty vague. A lot of things that I know happened, or that I know I did, I remember because there are other people in my life who knew me then. Astarion wasn't a child, of course, but time still has it's way with things, and there is no one in his life he knew from before he became a vampire, with the possible exception of Cazador, and he's hardly a reliable source of information. Trauma also damages memories, and he has spent more that 2/3 of his life being constantly starved and beaten, and abused in pretty much every possible way a person can be.

The main point being that it is simply not possible to make any firm assumptions about the kind of person Astarion was before he was turned. Maybe he was a horrible, power-hungry, back room dealing, lying, racist, POS trash-man who deserved what he got when that group of thugs jumped him. Maybe he was kind underneath all his bluster, and had a strong sense of justice, and he was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Most likely, he was something in between. But we can't know. And Astarion probably doesn't really know anymore either.

(I firmly believe that Cazador chose him specifically to be a spawn, and possibly even orchestrated the attack on Astarion. They might not even have really been Gur. Astarion would only have Cazador to rely on for confirmation about what really happened to him that night, and having a culture of people who hunt monsters and were likely already targeting Cazador himself be the same group that murdered Astarion seems pretty mmmm convenient.)

And for all that he is a chaos gremlin, prickly rat-bastard, dumpster fire of a man, it is honestly pretty astounding (and rewarding imo) just how much growth he can have over the course of the game, which is only a few months, tops. (assuming, of course, that you are playing a good aligned Tav/Durge) But even before that, after the first night he tries to bite you, he is the one who immediately promises that he's not going to feed from innocents, with no prompting at all from the player. He doesn't ask to keep feeding from your PC, and he only drinks from you if you offer it. (unless you direct him to in a fight, I guess, lol) That feels huge to me. He has been STARVING for 200 years. Part of being a vampire is that he's always kind of starving, but he doesn't want to be a slave to that hunger any more than he wants to be a slave to anything or anyone else.

I'm not saying that he's secretly a good man deep down, but even from the start, the potential for him to be better was already there. Which is AMAZING because, as I said earlier: TWO HUNDRED YEARS.

Like, imagine that you know absolutely nothing about yourself except misery and torture and losing things, and it fucks you up, and you KNOW it's fucked you up, and you are terrified that one wrong move could send you back to the place that you just escaped from, and you still say, "I'm still not going to attack the innocent people around me for no reason, though. Sure, I might laugh if they manage to get themselves killed in an amusing way, but it's not going to be my fault."

#Astarion #astarion ancunin #bg3 #fandom meta #i guess idk lol #this is a bit stream of consciousness oops #it's honestly impressive that he's not MORE of a dick tbh #my horrible little guy has me chewing through the bars of my enclosure

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fieldofdaisiies · 1 year

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Azriel x Reader | Crazy Stupid Love

edited!!

type: angst warning(s): self-doubt, harmful thoughts, age-gap, Azriel is Reader's boss word count: 5.4k words summary: Reader is one of Azriel’s spies. Nesta has rescued her from Illyria and brought her to Velaris. Azriel has seen Reader’s potential and has asked her to become his spy. Slowly, he has fallen for her and vice versa. But both have difficulties accepting those feelings, especially since Azriel has doubts about him being Illyrian when you just escaped the Illyrian war camps, thinking you would be disgusted by his love for you. This is now the edited version of a request (where Reader is one of tge IC members' children) that caused incredibly much hate and uproar. Once again I can only apologise and hope you will like this story now better. Additional info, Reader is jealous of Gwyn in this, so Reader’s dislike of Gwyn stems from disappointment and jealousy. I love Gwyn’s character a lot, so these are not my thoughts and hence why I put some cute Gwynriel friendship into it.

The shadowsinger’s thumb carefully swipes over your cheek, barely brushing the surface, his palm soft and warm on your skin, his touch gentle. You almost melt into it, your heart rapidly beating against your rib cage, reveling into the closeness of him. Your skin tingles, prickling. Not only where he touches you. Everywhere actually. Your gaze is trained on the ground, unable to look at him.

Azriel. Shadowsinger and spymaster of the Night Court. And your boss—you being his best spy and that for quite some years now. So these feelings are…very, very wrong. You know that, but—

“Hm?” he questions, his voice barely above a whisper. It is the gentleness in it that nearly draws tears to your eyes, this side of him that hardly anyone ever gets to see. He lets this gentles, this soft and caring side show whenever he is around you.

And that hurts, because even though, your heart beats for him, there will never be more between the two of you than…friends.

And friends is already the most of it. You are his employee.

“I just felt dizzy all of a sudden. Might have been the heat,” you answer, warmth filling your cheeks. Azriel does not really seem content with this answer and tips your chin up with his thumb. You are forced to meet his gaze eventually, your heart pounding in your throat. You clamp your mouth shut, knowing that you first had to order your thoughts and only then could talk.

You mind is a mess whenever you are around him. You have always liked Azriel a lot. He always seems to understand you, making you feel comfortable in what you do and say and think. Until it changed. Or not. You still feel comfortable around him, but now also really nervous and sometimes a little bit...shy.

Azriel is just–Gods!

He…you find it hard to breathe whenever you look at him. But now, now that your eyes clash with those of hazel, it is a sheer impossibility to form any coherent thought and to make your lungs fill with air.

“I think you might not have drunk enough today,” Azriel says, a tint of reprimanding in his voice. You roll your eyes a little–yes, you are a younger fae, but you aren’t a baby. You are an adult and very capable of knowing how much or little you should drink a day.

The shadowsinger clicks his tongue and chuckles, the deep rumble doing something to you, making your toes curl. “What did I say about you rolling your eyes at me, little one?” Taunting laces his features when his gaze moves over your face, the corner of his mouth tipping up.

Snickering slightly, you simply roll them again. “Well, sometimes, Shadowsinger, one can only roll their eyes at you. I am no baby. I can perfectly—“ “I never said you are a not capable of knowing how much to drink or you being a bay, I just realised that during training you drank nothing at all. And also not during lunch.”

So he was watching you during lunch? Your mind plays silly games with you. Why would he watch you? To see if you are fit for work?

“So during lunch you had nothing better to do than watch me and see if I drink enough?” Your brow raises in challenge, eyes aglow when the narrow in on the shadowsinger. He cocks his head, smiling at your teasing words. Azriel leans back on the lounger and stretches his legs, then he folds his hands behind his neck. His onyx hair glow in the bright sunlight, his hazel eyes sparkling with challenge.

“I’m just looking out for you. Training requires strength. But so it does require that you eat and drink enough and have enough power.”

His explanation is not entirely what you hoped to hear, nevertheless you bow your head and force a small smile on your lips, knowing it does not reach your eyes.

You know this is wrong, know that you should not feel…so much for Azriel. It is strange, odd, weird, twisted. But you cannot do anything against your feelings, you cannot force your heart to stop beating so frantically whenever Azriel is around, whenever he is near. It just happens, you just happen to have caught feelings for him. Feelings that you cannot suppress, nor do anything against them.

You cannot stand the tension any longer, how close he sits, how his scent fills your nostrils —night-chilled mist, cedar and a hint of sweat— or how his warmth reaches your body, how his thigh touches yours. How often have you imagined situations just like this in the dead of night, staring at the ceiling in your room, fingers toying with the edges of the romance books you have been trying to read but soon lost focus.

“Can we just go back to training?” You don’t wait for an answer, standing in one swift movement that has you tumbling a little bit.

“Only if you drink. You nearly fainted earl—“ You snatch the bottle from the bench next to Azriel, roll your eyes and take a big sip. Actually you down the whole thing in a few big gulps.

Unsmiling the spymaster stands, shadows skittering around him. Azriel rolls back his broad shoulders and stretches his wings for a moment.

You find yourself gazing. Your throat works on a swallow when your eyes trail over the thin, leather-like membrane, the vein up to his talon. From Morrigan and Nesta you have often heard the rumors that wingspan says a lot about—

“Staring at wings is inapproiate, Y/N,” Azriel chuckles and quickly snatches them in.

“Sorry,” you whisper, sharply turning away from him. He could never see the terribly blush staining your cheeks. Internally you curse Morrigan and Nesta for telling you about wingspans.

Heading away from Azriel, you decide to join the children of the High Lord and the general of the Illyrian armies, them only being a good century younger than you.

You just have to leave, wanting to get away from the shadowsinger that still has your knees wobble.

Baxton already frantically waves at you, a big toothy grin on his lips. “Feeling better?” he asks and you bow your head, smiling.

They inform you that they, Baxton and Nyx, would do some one-on-one combat while Dorian trains with his father, Cassian, on the other side of the pitch. Well, then you would not train with them. Which leaves you with–

A shadow appears above you and you don’t even have to turn to know who it is. “Let’s do some kicking. There are still some…lacks you have to work on.”

You really want to kick backwards, knowing Azriel just said this to anger you because he knows that you fight much better when you are angered. And this again...that he knows you so well, makes the content of your stomach sour. He knows you somehow better than anyone else, like and and his shadows can read you perfectly, your actions, your thoughts, just everything.

“Well, then, master of kicking, show me how it is done.”

The grin that spreads over your face is cruel and mischievous when you turn to Azriel, innocently blinking your eyes up at him. His nostrils flare and a snort leaves his throat before he tilts his head, motioning for the right side of the pitch.

"Little one..." he growls lowly, reprimanding but also amusement in his tone.

Nyx and Baxton are already dueling, fully focused on each other when you start with kicking excises that Azriel has just shown you, trying to imitate them.

“If you continue kicking like this you will twist your ankle,” Azriel comments and yes, has you roll your eyes once again.

“Then show me how to stand, you oh so great Illyrian warrior.” Mischief sparks in your eyes when you throw him a challenging look over your shoulder. Azriel chuckles lowly, lifting his hand to show you a vulgar gesture. “No need to get feisty, little one.”

“Don’t always call me little one!” Your cross your arms over your chest. Well, you are little indeed since that is what makes a good spy. You have an easy time hiding, and sliding through narrow and small spaces, ducking down behind bushes or fitting into cupboards and closets to get secret information.

Your breathing comes to an abrupt stop when Azriel closes the distance between your bodies, now standing mere inches from you, his brow raised while he looks down on you.

Night-chilled mist and cedar envelope you, the heat from his body stretching out and warming your skin. You try to hold his gaze, looking up at him with colour blooming on your cheeks. This is…different. This feels different. This feels intimate.

“You are little,” Azriel argues and grins. You want to hit him, but you find yourself unable to do so. It becomes a sheer impossibility to breathe, to think, to…exist.

His grin is nothing but cruel beauty. He is beautiful when he smiles, but gods, when Azriel grins, it feels like someone pulls the rug out from under your feet.

A cool breeze tingles your skin when Azriel leans in. Maybe you are imaging it, but still fully on its own accord your head tilts, your lids slowly closing. Offer and permission.

You feel his breath hot against your skin, Azriel is mere inches from you, his own heart rapidly beating in his chest. You can hear it. You can feel it.

The shadowsinger clears his throat, probably remembering that you aren't alone on the pitch, and the warmth leaves your body the moment he leans back.

“Let me show you how should…stand,” he breathes, voice hoarse and croaky when he wipes his palm over his face. He steps back, unease lacing his features, a deep shade of red on his cheeks.

Is he blushing? Is Azriel truly blushing right now? you think, still in a sort of trance of what has just happened. Only moments later you can, with quite a lot of difficulty focus back on training.

But in all honesty, you still think about how close he stood, how his breath felt on your skin, how he looked at you on the training pitch, when you are sitting in your bathtub the following evening.

Soon it is Starfall Eve and you are going to have this big celebration where the whole Inner Circle along their friends will meet up at the House of Wind, celebrating the travelling spirits.

Half a century ago, Nesta brought you along to one of her Valkyrie trainings. She met you in the outskirts of Illyria –you worked there as a laundry lady– and you immediately loved the idea suggested to you: become a Valkyrie and leave the war camp you worked in.

Nesta brought you with her to Velaris, and soon you were offered a room in the Town House as there was always a place for people who needed it.

During the very first training Azriel has already seen your incredible potential, having somehow stolen you away from Nesta somehow by offering you to work as a spy form him. And that was what you did. You became his spy. Neither you nor Azriel has had any intention of falling in love with the other–you hearts apperently have had different ideas. And so did your souls. Two souls hoping to finally being united as one.

Your fingers absently brush over your calves, your gaze trained on the tub wall, imagining how deep the brown of Azriel’s eyes looked when he locked his gaze with yours. How soft his scarred hands felt on your skin. You have always felt most comfortable around Azriel–it was always him who you sought out when you needed someone to talk to, when you felt sad or lonely. It was always Azriel who was there for you, comforted you. And it was always—

“Are you done, Y/N?”

“Almost done,” you answer the young Nyx, whom, when he was younger, you have often baby-sitted, when his father and mother went to High Lord meetings and you did not have to work.

But well, you aren’t even close to almost done, but Nyx seems content about the answer, mumbling something before shuffling away.

You haven’t been finished in twenty minutes, but apperently everyone seems fine it, the High Lord also having taken quite some time longer himself, fixing his suit jacket and his hair.

You were in the bathroom for so long, doing your hair and putting on some light make-up. You want to look stunning, you want to knock the breath from Azriel’s lungs, even though you know how silly that sounds.

You aren't in the best mood, swinging the wine in your glass and releasing some air through your nose. Even two hours after arriving at the House of Wind you haven’t caught sight of Azriel, starting to feel slightly uneasy. Where the hell was he?

You have been hanging around with Nuala and Cerridwen, your two colleagues, for quite sometime until Nuala leaves to talk to the High Lord if still everything is alright and so it is Cerridwen and you. Cerridwen blabbers non-stop about a new recipe she has discovered and you only listen with one ear, always trying to figure out where Azriel could be. He has to see you in this dress, you think to yourself when Cerridwen guides you through the kitchen to head towards one of the balconies.

The door to the balcony is open and the moment you lift your gaze, your heart splinters into a million pieces.

That is where he has been the whole time.

Your brother is still talking to you, still happily chatting, but you cannot make out a single word that is said over the blood pumping in your ears. You feel your knees get wobbly, a large crack appearing in your heart when you see it, the priestess' hand, placed on Azriel’s lower arm. Tensions brackets your mouth, tears burning behind your eyes when you look at the shadowsinger’s happy, joyful face. He is laughing, freely, whole-heartedly. His eyes are glowing brightly, his posture so relaxed, so at ease.

Your hands fall to your side, the crack in your heart increasing, making it hard to breathe. Your lower lip trembles and your—

“What do you think is better–chocolate or vanilla?” Gods…Furrowing your brows you turn to Cerridwen and look up at her. Your lips part when confusion laces your insides. You have no idea. No idea of what she has said, of what you should do now, of how you should act now. You do not want to stay here. Not with them getting all cosy and Azriel probably falling in love right in this moment. He seems so—

A loud, whole-hearted laugh draws your attention once again back to the spymaster and the priestess. Azriel is slightly bent over, clutching his belly, laughing. Gwyn is chortling loudly next to him, her beautiful teal eyes glowing, a stunning smile plastering her face. She is stunning.

Tearing your gaze away from them, you look down on yourself. She is stunning, but you are…What are you?

Self-doubt and self-consciousness flood your entire body and suddenly all you want to do is get out of the skin tight, midnight blue dress. You want to rip it off your body and put on one of those big jumpers that would hide every little curve and edge of your figure. You aren't as slender and stunning as Gwyn and you know that. Azriel probably knows that as well. He finds her beautiful, this is obvious, has become obvious during training in the past…years. He might have been in love with her for much longer, even before the two of you even met, and you simply did—

“Y/N? Still with me?” Getting impatient, the shadow wraith snaps her fingers in front of your face. You turn to her, taking in her partly irritated but also worried expression.

“Sorry, I am not feeling too well,” you whisper. “What did you say?” She waves you off and gives her head a little shake. “What is going on?” she asks, her eyes turning softer. She puts his glass of wine down and fully turns to you.

“Nothing,” you quickly answer. Too quickly probably. She raises one brow at you and parts her lips, but you are quicker.

“I am close to my cycle I believe. I am just not feeling too well. I will head home now. It is best if I get some sleep, the past days have been quite exhausting.” You put your glass down and wipe your hands down your dress, smoothing it out or rather getting the sweat that has started to form on your palms off. “Are you sure? The spirits are about to start travelling.” “Yes, more than sure. I have seen this quite some times already and it will be the same next year. I don’t mind missing it this year.”

And yes…yes, you run down all the dreadful steps that lead up to the House of Wind. You can barely feel your legs, the pain in your heart so much more potent and drowning out everything else.

The journey back home becomes a blur. Storming into your room you already started pulling at the strings of your dress, finally wanting to get out of it. This beautiful dress that no longer feels beautiful. It feels too tight, scratchy somehow. It has the same colour as Azriel's siphons, you have chosen it…Cauldron, yes, you have chosen it for Azriel. And now you hate it. Loathe it.

Your fingers claw at the laces and straps until you finally manage to rip the dress off your body and toss it into the room, stumbling over your heels while you step over it. You slip out of them as well, now just standing in your undergarments.

You head for the bathroom, needing to cool down. You splash cold water into your face, letting a sob you have been holding in for minutes finally escape. The sound of it hollows of the walls, reverberates through your body and fully cracks your heart open. Your soul feels so empty, so dead, the feeling so dull. It feels like someone had cut a thread and now your soul would never find a way to happiness ever again.

Your lower lip still trembles when you stare into your face through the mirror. Your knuckles turn white from how tightly you are holding onto the sink. Obviously he would never fall for you. You are a good three centuries younger than him. And most importantly, he sees you as his spy, as someone who works for him, but he would never see you as a love interest, as his lover. But why is there this connection between the two of you? Why has this connection existed since the very first day?

A single tear rolls down your cheek, landing in the sink. You stare at your eyes, those eyes that would never be as beautiful as Gwyn’s. You have always liked her, she was always like an older sister to you when your first arrived here and now she is stealing your…your…your nothing. You bring one hand up to smack it over your forehead. Azriel is your boss that is it. He is nothing more or less.

You hear your own breathy sob hollow in the bathroom when you wipe at your cheeks with the back of your hand. You breathing is ragged, air wheezing in and out of your lungs while you try to calm down. This is all so stupid. You are so stupid, you think to yourself. How could you have ever had hopes for this male? How could you have ever thought that Azriel would really fall in love with you? With someone like you when there were all those stunning females right in front of him.

You grind your teeth together, trying to think of anything other than Azriel. Every thought just jumps right back to him, how he was laughing, how happy he looked. It still hurts, your chest still aches, your soul still feels dark and cold, empty.

Your soul isn’t the only one yearning. Sadness is etched into his features when Azriel’s gaze longingly travels through the room.

Weren't you at the celebration earlier, wearing that stunning midnight blue dress? The spymaster does not want to make his searching for you too obvious, but he can't really focus when an uneasy feeling appears in his belly. Somehow like he can feel your hurt. Like he can feel that you are not well.

“And so I kissed him back. And it was beautiful because he gave me a choice and made me feel loved and respected in my decision,” Gwyn finishes her sentence, giggling softly, eyes gleaming with bliss. Azriel turns to her, raising a brow.

Gwyn swats at his arm. “Don't tell me you haven’t been paying attention the whole time.” Reproach laces her features while she shakes her head at the shadowsinger.

“I did listen to your story, Gwyn. And I think it is really nice that you kissed,” Azriel mumbles, shortly looking past the priestess, trying to make out if you maybe are in the kitchen with Nuala.

“What is going on, Azriel?” The spymaster shrugs a shoulder, shadows curling tightly around him. “Nothing,” he breathes and Gwyn rolls her eyes. It reminds the spymaster of you. His heart cracks a little bit because he shouldn’t be thinking of you. He should never be thinking of you. You work for him, he is at least three centuries older and—

Not once did he allow himself to pleasure himself to the thought of you. One time he thought about it for a split second and then was grossed out about himself. He is still disgusted about himself that he thinks about you in way that is more than just…friendly. He likes you, but he also knows that he can never love you. It simply would not be wrong…everyone would think he has only wanted you to work for him for the purpose of wooing you or making you his lover. He saw your potential on the first day and knew that he wanted you as his spy as you were simply great. Still are.

But then, unfortunately, the feelings came in, his heart skipping an extra beat every time he sees you.

But what worries him the most: wouldn’t you be disgusted by this whole thing? This old male drooling after you?

Azriel has been pondering about these questions for months, years maybe. There have never been these feelings until a few years ago. Until some time ago when you came home form a mission…hurt. You had several broken ribs, a bloody face and slashes over your abdomen. Azriel was out of his mind, his heart splintering when he saw you and he knew in that moment that things between the two of you have changed. That he was so worried and broken to see you like this because you are more to him than just his spy.

To him you are the most stunning and breathtaking female Azriel has ever come across.

But you work for him, you have escaped Illyria and the Illyrian brutes, loving you now, wanting to be with you, this could not happen. It would be too twisted, too strange, too out of place.

You probably only see him as your boss, the High Lord’s spymaster, the shadowsinger. Because that is what he is, and only this and never ever anything else or more, Azriel thinks.

Absently, Azriel rubs his scarred palm over his chin, only then realising that he still hasn’t answered Gwyn.

“Nothing, I think I am just tired. Thank you for your concern,” Azriel quickly says, meeting Gwyn’s worried expression. Her hand once again moves to his lower arm, squeezing softly. “What is going on with you lately, you always seem so absent. So…sad,” Gwyn queries, her eyes soft, empathetic.

“Nothing. It really is just that I am tired. Work was exhausting these past weeks.”

Yes, work has indeed been exhausting. But not because of the work itself, but because Azriel constantly found himself distracted. It was either you sauntering into the room with a big, stunning grin on your face, you giggling or talking while you were discussing missions, you teasing him during training, simply you!

But there could never be more between the two of you. He could never openly love you and you could never have a relationship, that is clear. And that hurt. And it hurts so gods damn much, it nearly tears the spymaster's chest apart.

“Have you seen Y/N somewhere?” Azriel then asks, rather out of the blue as they have actually formerly been talking about his well-being.

“Y/N?” Gwyn asks and spins around on her heels. She looks around in the living room and shrugs her shoulders. “She has been here earlier, maybe she is getting herself something to drink? Why are you asking?” A small smile blooms on her face, her feature not giving anything away though.

“Just curious,” Azriel answers and takes a sip from his drink.

“She is doing so great during training, don’t you think?” Gwyn chimes in. And yes, you are doing amazing during training. Gods, Azriel is so in admiration of—

“Yes, she does.” “I bet she would have been a great Valkyrie if you hadn’t stole her away to become your spy,” Gwyn chuckles and nudges the spymaster with her elbow.

Azriel bows his head and smiles.

You don’t show up for the rest of the evening, or night, which has Azriel going close to mad. What has happened to you? Mor, already slightly tipsy from the fairy wine, only says as much as you did not feel well and obviously Azriel blames this on him. Did he do something wrong?

He has noticed that you have slightly changed around him, sometimes acting a bit shy and nervous when he caught you looking at him. But mostly you still were your sassy, confident self, so what could be the reason for you leaving early? Did you really just not feel well? Were you ill?

Those questions still haunt him later that night when he is lying in bed, arms crossed behind his head, throat dry, a thousand thoughts coursing through his mind. He definitely doubted his rationality.

You have left the Illyrian war camps only to fall into his…grasp.

He could not allow that. This was twisted and wrong, he could not have those thoughts, those feelings, for you. Loving you, wanting you, aching for you was off limits. He could never allow himself that. Never.

The spymaster’s sleep is uneasy, he does not find rest, his heart beating sadly in his chest, his shadows unruly, finding not rest either. And many times he questions why he has agreed to family breakfast the next morning which would obviously be held at the Riverside House.

“All packed?” Azriel lifts his gaze to you, heart sinking when he takes in the dark circles under your eyes.

The words leave his mouth before he can stop himself. “Where are you going?”

He has not sent you on a mission and has not given you a day off, so where the hell where you going? A crease appears on his forehead when he swallows the lump in his throat and he feels the High Lord’s gaze on him, but his eyes are trained on you. On you only.

The spymaster watches your throat work on a swallow when you slowly meet his gaze. “I will take a few days off work, I am sorry for only informing you now. I am going to the Day Court to pay Elain, Lucien and Iris a visit.” Although your hands tremble at your sides, your voice comes out steady, strong.

Through working with Nuala and Cerridwen and eventually becoming friends with them you have also befriended the middle Archeron sister, you would now pay a visit. You just have to get out–get away from here.

Your gazes stay locked, something like sorrow glistening in Azriel’s eyes. Has he hurt you somehow? he questions himself. Your demeanor is so different. You don’t smile at him, you don’t tease him, you don’t even smile at your parents.

Has he made a wrong move? Is it because he touched you during training? Did he touch you too much? Somewhere where you felt uncomfortable? Was this because in the war camps those Illyrian brutes did touch you as well and now he was nothing better than them?

Disgust fills him once again, the back of his mouth tasting bitter when he grits his teeth and averts his gaze.

“Tell them all the best from us,” Feyre hums, finally fetching you both back to reality. You have been wondering if he has spent the night with Gwyn, if they went to his place together. Or if he kissed her goodbye.

“I will. Thank you. Good bye!”

By the huge bag you are carrying Azriel can tell that you will be going for longer. The sheer thought of not having you here does something to him. He swallows the rising sorrow, stuffing another piece of egg into his mouth, his gaze drawn to the table.

You cannot look at him either when you leave the room, waving the others goodbye.

Days pass and you love it at the Day Court, but still you find yourself caught in thoughts many times. You bounce a happily giggling Iris on your lap when Elain slides into the seat next to you, narrowing her eyes and placing her hand on your shoulder.

“And now you tell me what is going on with you.” It is a statement not a question. She is so good at that–probably one of her seer abilities, seeing right through you. In the past days you have acted like everything is fine, but apperently she has seen right through your lie.

“I think I am in love with someone…”

“Why such a grim face then? This is beautiful, love is beautiful,” Elain hums, her eyes soft and warm. You shrug and Elain rolls her eyes. “Ugh, don’t tell me that that he leaves far away or something and you barely have a chance to see him. Did you meet him on a mission?”

A soft laugh escapes you and you give your head a tiny shake. “No, that is not it. Really. It is all just complicated.” “What is complicated?” Elain asks, softly stroking your shoulder with her thumb.

“Love is complicated. Crazy, stupid love,” you grumble and focus back on Iris who happily taps her feet on your thighs, giggling and squealing. You lift and lower her once, squeezing her slightly, grinning.

“You want to tell me who it is?” You shake your head again. “I appreciate this. And I am really thankful, but—“ “Nothing but, it is perfectly fine. You don’t have to tell me. Just know that I am always here if you need someone to talk to.” You turn your head slightly, smiling at the Archeron sister and bowing your head. “I know, thank you.”

For a moment you deliberate about just telling her, but you know that when you say it, it would just complicate things because then she would always question you how you felt concerning…Azriel. And you do not want that. You don’t want anyone to know.

You have no time to ponder any longer, the moment of being caught in your thoughts soon gets interrupted by Lucien strolling inside the room. Not only Lucien, there is tall figure, veiled in shadows behind him. Azriel’s presence immediately fills the room, your breathing halting when your gaze moves to his, meeting, locking.

His hair is ruffled, disheveled, his eyes empty when his lips part. “We need to talk.”

Part II

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Feel free to leave some feedback. I love to hear what you say💙

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag): @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii @nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbitxh @cityofidek @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22 @valeriedarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian @kennedy-brooke

#azriel #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #acotar x reader #azriel angst #acotar #acosf

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starrylayle · 3 months

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Marauders Fandom > "There is no canon !!" and other rhetorics

Guess who's back in their marauders phase after 2-3 years of being dormant lmao?? ((spoiler its me lol)). Anyways, a lot has changed since 2021 in this fandom so I just wanted to talk about the direction i think it's going.

I remember in 2020-21 the fandom started to boom in popularity on tiktok --> esp with the rise wolfstar + atyd. I remember people were so suprised with remus' characterization as 'rougher around the edges' instead of the 'soft boi' thing, and how that influenced the new wolfstar dynamic. [Just want to add that the atyd characterisation is much more complex than this and its one of my fave fics --> I'm more talking about the fandom at large's reaction to this)

And since fandom is incapable of having two nuanced and characters who are not stark opposites,, their roles were basically reversed and now Remus is the toxic dom alpha male and sirius is the cute girlyboy twink --- which um,,, the oc-ification is so real its embarrassing but whatever (omg don't even get me started on jegulus 💀)). I just assumed these would stay as headcanons. But now we have people saying, that 'we barely know anything abt the marauders in canon' or 'isn't the whole point of fandom to make shit up?' which i have sO many issues with so let me just try and compile my thoughts into dot points for the sake of coherency.

'we barely know anything abt the marauders in canon' ---> First of all, Remus, Sirius and Severus are fully fleshed out characters in the og series -- why do you think people would care enough to create an entire fandom based on their backstories if they were 2d flat characters in canon?? Like bffr. I saw a post on here (forgot who it was by, let me know if u know!) that said, 'I didn't cry over sirius' death in OotP just for ppl to say that we know nothing abt him in canon'. Like, its just mind-boggling to me lol.

'isn't the whole point of fandom to make shit up?' --> Ok y'all. For a fandom to work, there have to be some guidelines, some kind of source material, some point of reference so people can build upon it and make content. I think we can all agree on that. One reason why HP is such a popular place for fandom is the world-building and potential plots/storylines. I see some people argue that jk rowling was a shit writer anyways so might as well contradict everything she says. Now, I don't disagree with that point in particular, Jo is a pretty mediocre writer and a terrible person. HOWEVERrr, I'd argue that it is a lot more fascinating when people expand or work on the concepts in HP. JK Rowling has a lot of great ideas but executes them terribly -- I love when fic writes do this, which prolly explain why I love atyd as it is still very much canon compliant but executes themes on class, disability and queerness that jkr could barely do in subtext. This doesn''t mean I only think canon compliant fics are valid. That's not the case! I think as long as the charcterization is consistent to the character and the particular circumstances/world they're in, its fine! In fact, I love seeing how the same character would function if in a different place! I also love seeing explorations of the magic and magic systems in aus or fix it fics (or even canon compliant ones) that still fit in with the canonnical system that we know.

I guess what I'm trying to say I wish the marauders fandom explored the world and charcterizations more deeply instead of creating shallow oc-fied version of the characters that fit into whatever's trending -- like just write your own book or smth lol -- booktok will eat it up i promise.

Also, kinda related kinda not but um,,, why are we romanticising fascists -- like babe no evan rosier is not your babygirl he canonnoically tortured multiple ppl and became a death eater soo... not saying that I wouldn't want an exploration of his character or even a relationship with barty -- (who's not some cool dairk-haired edgelord but a actually a cowardly fascist murderer with blond hair -- yes the blond hair is important) -- I'd just want them to be portrayed as the not morally good people they are. Like,, if u want to oc-ify a character like pick someone whos not a death eater or has little info on them like dirk cresswell or frank longbottom,,, or ya know,, one of the MANY female characters in the fandom ((This fandom also has a problem with women and sapphic ships in general but that's a whole other issue lol).

I know this 'babygirlification' of death eaters doesn't mean to do this, but it also ends up watering down the themes of oppression, bigotry, etc and leaves us with not nearly as complex characters. Also one of the issues I had with the og HP world is that JK will introduce concepts like wizard racism and slavery and then just like,, not really do anything about it or just have half-arsed redemption arcs whilst not ever actually exploring the root of the issue. And now i feel like the fandom is following in those footsteps unfortunately.

Anyways, i've been rambling for too long so I'll just leave it here. Sorry if this came off as mean spirited in anyway,, I just have a lot of thoughts™ and my family is sick of hearing them lol. These opinions are not set in stone however so I'd love to hear your thoughts on this subject! At the end of the day this is fandom and we're supposed to have fun -- so yeah !! thanks for reading if you made it this far!

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pepsiiwho · 9 days

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ROMANCE REAL!

I'm a heinous, devious multi-shipper and I always have been and always will be but for now I won't get into sleep's harem. Right now I'm just gonna word vomit about my two biggest Hypnos ships and what im thinking of writing for them with the information we have currently with the new teaser.

If you don't like Zagnos, Arenos or Hypnos getting some well deserved loving (in which case, you can fuck off now) then skip this one. If you'd like to avoid spoilers for my next possible wip (not that this is nearly coherent enough to explain anything I'll write) run away. Now.

Okay. Anyway. Hi true believers.

So, the dynamics of both ships are different to me fundementally but on the outside they look incredibly similar (I have a type). the basics being that Zagreus and Hypnos is more a will they/ won't they childhood friend romance with a twist of like "you stole my whole family and I resent you for that" and "you're the one person in this literal hell hole I can't just fix and it's driving me crazy". Initially Zagreus was like, the one constant nice, polite and understanding person Hypnos had in his corner. Because of like 3 lines of dialogue in the first game (of which I shan't even speak!) I fell out of love with the ship just because of how jarring and heart breaking it was. But I have love for them and have worked in tandem with cano, for once in my life, and can fix it all.

This was a long way to say, Zagnos exs. They dated and it was great. Very puppy love but after a point Hypnos got comfortable enough that he felt discontent with the fact his boyfriend was more beloved in his family then he was. They clash over it, Hypnos gets upset that zagreus gets THREE sets of families, HYP'S INCLUDED, while Hypnos can barely manage one on a good day and Zagreus just does NOT get it. Eventually they break up because they're just too different. Hypnos bows out, in his self-deprecating way, and they're done. Considering the second game, I think this happens shortly before Mel is born/ or conceived. One of the two because news/birth is a whirlwind that takes all of Zag's attention so they have a lot of unfinished business.

Obviously the titans attack only like a year or so after Mel is born and then everything goes to shit and my scene of the escape happens. At this point, Zagreus is still very in love with Hypnos— he never really stopped oops— but their time has run out and it's too late. He goes into the fray. Womp womp. We're caught up.

Arenos, on the other hand, was always an escape from the mess of the house and the family drama happening there. Hypnos the forgotten and unloved son paired up with Ares the forgotten and unloved son. They are very different yet have a shared loneliness no one else really gets? It helps Ares has his weird fixation on the chatonic gods and their entire lineage. So they meet at the post game dinner and Ares is instantly smitten and wants to wisk Hypnos away. This is, surprisingly, the significantly more affectionate and fluffier ship in my mind. He wants to adore his god and obsess over him as Hypnos deserves. Ares is a lover boy to me and Someone who's been deprived of such love his whole life needs someone who's too enthusiastic about his mere existence. Anyway, when the titans attack and Hypnos gets out with Mel, he loses contact with Olympus because they go off the grid and he's too weak to reach ares in his dreams or anything. Until Mel begins communication with her kin up top, Ares assumes Hypnos is dead. He is not normal about it. WOO!

Which brings us to now. The scene I have in mind is post game or like later in the game? In this idea Zagreus has been freed and olympians can come and go from the crossroads without alerting the enemy faction.

The concept for both ships is the same: X goes to crossroads and finds Hypnos sleeping, unwoken for (long period of time here) and unreachable. Im imagining the scene from Snow White. X walks up, ruminates on Hypnos and their past together and then kisses him before crumpling on his sleeping form, overcome with grief.

Naturally, the grief is different. Zagreus for lost love. For another thing lost to him through this conflict but due to his own negligence, not the Titan's whims. He chose to ostracize his love, he chose to ignore him when they were all of 30ft away from each other at any given time. His Hypnos, his sleep, who protected his little sister and (perhaps) helped guide his family to safety/defeat the titans whatever. The fates were as cruel as ever.

Ares, in my mind, would find Hypnos earlier. Before the titans are defeated fully. Seeing his lord sleep, his beloved, his heart and dreams left comatose and out of his reach enrages him. He has a new resolve coming out of the meeting, unable to do anything but wish for the utter decimation of any and all against him and the head of whoever put his love in this position.

The crossroad I'm at though (ha) is If true loves kiss can prevail... I love happy fluff good ends but tragedy is so lovely... Id love to hear other's thoughts as well. Feel free to send asks to continue the convo or reply ... or tags of course... sigh... they're so important. Also more Hypnos ships soon.. first on the block: Apollo and Hermes!

#the funnies #hades hypnos #hades 2 #hypnos hades #zagnos #arenos

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elly99 · 8 months

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Hanni's Playlist

Same challenge as before: including lyrics from each of the songs in Hanni's playlist in a story.

You wake up from a nap to your phone ringing. It was pampam 🐰💕.

"Heeeyyy! I'm on the way home from the airport. How are you?"

"Hey, honey! I'm good! Been missing you a lot, though. How was your flight? And how was Spain?"

"Ugh, I missed you so much, too! Like a lot a lot. Spain was amazing and I had so much fun! But I'm glad to be home now. Can't wait to see you."

She hears you yawning.

"Oh, were you sleeping, baby? Did I wake you up?"

"Possibly..."

"I'm sorryyy! I should've texted you first or something."

You can't help but smile. She was being a sweetheart as always.

"It's no problem, babe. What is a problem, though, here I am waking up, but you're not here. Still can't sleep on your side."

"I know!" You can practically hear her pouting through the phone. "But I'm coming! I'll be there soon." Then with her voice lowered she says, "And I'm gonna need a cuddle buddy to get over this jet lag tonight."

Your smile widens just thinking about it. And it breaks into laughter when you hear the other four crying, "Ewww," through the phone in unison. You can hear her just laughing, too.

"Hey, Hanni?"

"Yeah?"

"I just want to let you know I'm proud and I admire what you do. You guys are amazing! I see posts about you everywhere, I hear your voice in the streets and the TV stations. It's crazy! I see you working hard and you're always such an inspiration to me!"

"Aww, man, you're too sweet! Thank you, baby! That means a lot to hear."

"I'll see you tonight, then? Tell me all about your trip?"

"It's a date."

"I love you, pampam."

"I love you, too! Actually, wait. Amor eres tú."

"What's that mean?"

"It means, 'you are love.' Cuz you're my love! Just some Spanish I learned for you while I was over there. Anyway, see you later!"

She puts down the phone before you can catch the others making a fuss again about her cheesiness. In the silence that follows you're left with her lasting warmth, but a hint of regret. In truth you'd been napping to escape your thoughts. There'd been something on your mind the entire week she was gone and you wish you'd brought it up. But then again, maybe it was better to leave it for when you could talk to her in person.

The doorbell rings once. Twice. Three times. You rush to open the door and before you can even register that she's in front of you she practically tackles you to give you the best hug you could remember.

"Oh my god, I missed you so much!" she growls into your chest. "My baby! Ugh, I love you! How have you been?"

You pull away and look into her eyes. "I've missed you, too. Been feeling kinda down without you. I love you so much, it hurts."

"Aww, but I'm here now, babe! Your pampam's home," she says with the smile that's melted the hearts of millions. But right now it was all just for you. What chance did your singular heart stand against that?

You talk on the sofa for hours, chatting about her trip and the filming of her music videos, getting lost in her eyes and the honey that was her voice. You almost forgot there was something you had to get off your chest.

"Baby?"

"Mmm?"

"You know how I said I've been feeling kinda down?"

Immediately worry flashes across her face. "Yeah?"

"Well, it's cuz while you were away, apart from missing you, I kept thinking about us. About you and how I... Ugh, I don't know how to say this right."

She takes your hand in hers, making sure you knew she was listening. The front of reassurance in her eyes barely masking her concern. "Take your time, angel."

"When we started dating..." In your mind the flood gates open, bursting with the thoughts you'd been keeping to yourself for so long. The dam breaks and tears start to form in your eyes.

She comes even closer, wipes the tears from your cheeks, and whispers, "You know you can tell me anything, right?"

You nod weakly and try to form coherent thoughts.

"When we started dating I knew it would be hard. Like, I know you were way too bright for me. You're a star. So obviously I knew our relationship would have to be..."

"Secret?"

"Yeah, like, there's always that fear of people finding out. We kinda have to live a lie and that really hurts. And it's also terrifying."

"I know..."

"But there's something about your love, Hanni. You really are an angel and you're the sweetest person I know and you make everything better. But sometimes it feels like you're an angel with a gun in your hand. Cuz whenever you leave it hurts. It hurts missing you all the time. And it hurts pretending. Lying to everyone about us. I feel like... I die every night with you, just knowing that the next day you'll leave and it'll be like we don't exist. So sometimes I'd like to make myself believe that Planet Earth turns slowly just so I have more time with you. That sounds super dramatic but..."

"Hey, I get it," she says before kissing you softly. "Whenever I leave or whenever we're apart I try not too think too much about it but I can't." She sighs deeply and looks at the ground. "Cuz I love you so much. And love is when you try to place it out your mind but you can't think of anyone else. So I always end up thinking of you... and, like you said, how it hurts to have to hide. And it scares me, too."

She takes another breath as if deep in thought, then she looks back at you with a distinct look of determination in her eyes.

"So let's just stop. Let's stop running from love. Let's stop running from us. I'll die every night with you, too. At least we'll be together."

"Hanni, no, we can't do that..."

"Baby, you know I'll be on your side. No matter what. We in this for love. We in this for life. So it doesn't matter what they say if they find out."

Though tempting, you had to remain rational. You knew she was just being impulsive to try and cheer you up.

"Babe, we shouldn't. Maybe in a few years. We can keep it secret until then."

She sighs again. "Ugh, you're right. But you know I'm always here for you, right? You'll always have my shoulder to cry on. You'll always have my arms to fall into."

But before you can even fall into them, she wraps them around you. And before you can even cry, she whispers "No matter what the future holds, it's you my heart beats for."

#hanni x reader #hanni #hanni new jeans #newjeans x reader

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notknickers · 8 months

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in the last few days, i have been rotating the big austrian lad in my head relentlessly and, even though i may change my mind about some of these, or have mutually exclusive headcanons cohexist in different renditions of him, i feel like he is starting to take more deifinite shape in my mind. therefore, i want to write a list of my interpretation and share it, both for personal reference, since i'm juggling two different fics, and as modest contribution to fandom. i'll try to keep things coherent, but...

in spite of the misleading banner, which portrays a silly, cartoonish version of tentakönig i had a lot of fun doodling specially to embellish this post, the following is about human!könig, military contractor. that is just to give an idea of how much he has been bouncing in my skull as if my brain were a trampoline.

♛ he is between forty-two and forty-five years of age;

♛ his untreated social anxiety only increased during his military recruitment and gradually exacerbated into full-on PTSD during his career as contractor; he is afflicted by dissociative episodes, panic attacks and night terrors, as a consequence, which he keeps hidden at any and all cost and manages covertly, sometimes through questionable means;

♛ he is very quiet, pensive and observant. as such, he loathes using more words than he needs to and uses as little as he can, trying to avoid long conversations and small talk alike;

♛ his mask is the only remnant of his pre-military life. he clings to it as a reminder of his own humanity, of the person he used, for good or ill, to be and as acknowledgement of how far he has come from the scrawny, fearful lad he was, even when sometimes, he wishes he would have made different choices;

♛ under his mask, the features on his face are slightly uneven, such as one of his ears, which hangs at a slightly different angle than the other and his left cheekbone, still crooked from a past injury that healed poorly. he also has some deeper disfigurement, the scars of which still remain, less and less visible as time passes, and his lips are ruined. these are the consequence of both maltreatment and bullying during his childhood and adolescence, from both callous peers and neglectful parents, and of injuries incurred on the job. ironically, the worst are not from his military career, however. as such, he barely ever removes his mask, chiefly when alone or on leave.

♛ his hair is light in colour, kept cropped very short as it tends to grow quickly and get matted under his mask and helmet, but beyond the slightly receding hairline typical of men his age, he is nowhere near starting to bald; ♛ his eyes are grey. not blue, nor black. grey. sometimes lighter, sometimes darker, sometimes glittery and glassy, but always grey, according to his state and the light conditions;

♛ even though he is barely average in attractiveness and the presence of keloidal scar tissue, which often ranges from being off-putting to instilling repulsion in others, he is noticeable in size. some would find the mass of packed, rounded muscles in more than 2m rather interesting. however, given that very fact, he probably has or will soon start experiencing heart issues as he ages. realistically, he will probably die younger than his peers, in spite of being in top shape;

♛ his approach is practical and detached: if he's on a rescue mission, that's what he will focus on; what happens afterwards is none of his business, as long as his job is done and he gets recognition remuneration for it. if, on the other hand, civilians or competitors are a liability, he will not hesitate to take care of the situation in the most expedient way, the way that will not impair the status of his mission;

♛ this strong preference for detachment and pragmatism is not to say that he does not take pride in his skills, even though his job is nothing more than a means towards an end, or, well, more than one. namely, a paycheque to live comfortably and never fear poverty or food insecurity again; isolation from people or controlled interactions with predictable scripts, when necessary; the rules that apply, which are different from those of society at large, in which he always struggled and still struggles to fit in;

♛ when engaging the enemy, he is not reckless, but he is beastly and brutal. he displays a sort of controlled berserk mode. he has no particular respect for life and under those specific circumstances, allows himself to delight in carnage. he otherwise appears in control of himself, even though he spends as much time as he can alone, so others only know him so much;

♛ he is not beyond torture, even the disfiguring, excruciating kind, the kind that carries long-lasting, when not permanent effects on body and spirit alike. however, he merely sees it as a means towards an end. he is not the type to waste time threatening and warning: he thinks practical demonstrations are more eloquent that any word. as such, his methods tend more towards the crude, than the sophisticated, but they are equally effective in half the time;

♛ when on leave, he lives frugally and anonymously, barely leaving his abode unless necessary; he lives below his means as a matter of habit, a consequence of his childhood poverty, even when he could afford much, much more;

♛ his modest flat is a pigsty and he likes to leave it like that to break out of the stifling rules and expectations of his job. this is also reflected on his shabby sense of fashion: better to be a practical slob than an elegant buffoon who wastes his hard-earned money on impractical peacocking attires;

♛ whilst true that his height, build and scars attract stares in public, he has become very adept at shutting such rudeness down with one of his strategic, whithering looks. out of combat, he is just some bloke and that is all he cares to be until he is called back from leave;

♛ he compartmentalises a lot his civilian persona from his military persona and, even within his military persona, there are more subdivisions to be found (coold-headed, reserved, collected and calculating vs murderous, bloody and savage in conflict.) to be clear, he is not ashamed of what he does for a living, but his profession also requires a lot of discretion on his part, which makes the compartmentalising already so natural to him an external necessity;

♛ he's a smoker and a drinker: as long as he still performs well on the field, he has no interest in denying himself the scant pleasures only vice can offer;

tentakönig rolled and bounced all the way down here to say: "if you do not wish to find out what i'm like sexually and romantically, do yourself a favour and do not read below. proceed at leisure, otherwise."

🗡 perhaps not every single time, but more often than not, he cries when he comes;

🗡 i get submissive vibes, with a dash of unpredictability. for now, let's say that, with his lovers, occasional and less so, he knows how to be both rough and rash or gentle and devoted. sometimes, even within the same session, all depending on mood and circumstances.

🗡 i'm toying with the idea of him having a specific type of mummy kink, the kind expressed by seeking the gentle, comforting touch of a willing-enough woman who he will address as mummy, in german, only to end up weeping on her tits as he greedily sucks on them... i may have already begun writing a fic along this lines... >.> i did and more are coming. this is both a promise and a threat.

🗡 when he gets desperate and/or fuckdrunk during his sexual encounters, he starts muttering nonsense in austrian german, incapable of focussing his brain enough to maintain some coherency; it's very endearing to see him lose control like that. if the sex in question is happening with a very lucky woman (lucky according to whom?!) who he trusts enough to be that vulnerable, besides giving in to his native tongue, he will probably also cry, as mentioned above;

🗡 when on leave, he occasionally pays for sex when he can't (or won't bother to) find anything on his own, or when he has something particular in mind and prefers to put himself in the hands of a professional;

🗡 even though he does not consider himself queer, when mercenary sex isn't in the cards, he frequents local gay clubs. as a tall, athletic, middle-aged and moderately hairy man, it is hardly challenging for him to find a willing man to fuck in the face or the arse, even though he never reciprocates;

🗡 though more or less settled in his reality full of idiosyncrasies and resigned to it, he occasionally allows himself to wander off his established path to seek companionship outside of the above-mentioned methods. he knows he could hardly stand a regular life with wife, children, pets and a less dangerous job. yet, there is a part of him still curious, which would like to discover whether he could get what everyone else allegedly seems to want, what he feels he should want but is not sure he actually does. as such, he occasionally tries and manages to establish a relationship in between deployments, but it often collapses or remains in the early stages. the older he gets, the harder he finds to make them happen, especially when he is very much not everyone's cup of tea;

🗡 nevertheless, i believe he would appreciate to know what it's like to see himself through the eyes of someone genuinely infatuated with him and not see them recoil in disgust or reflect back the image of the mindless killing machine with little depth left he considers himself to have become;

may add more in future. apologies for any potential mistake: it's very late and i don't have time to reread everything. thanks for reading.

#cod #call of duty #könig #konig #könig cod #konig cod #könig mw2 #konig mw2 #könig mwii #konig mwii #könig headcanons #konig headcanons #könig x reader #konig x reader

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dalishthunder · 4 months

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WIP Whenever

Missed WIP wednesday bc Covid has me in it's clutches, but I'm feeling coherent enough to write again so have this!

When the door to the craft finally closed behind you, you visibly sagged, slumping against the wall with a shaky breath.

“Are you alright?”

“That was Akande Ogundimu. That was Doomfist.” You stared at your trembling hands, “How the hell am I alive…?”

“Because you are with me.”

You continued as though you had barely heard him, your voice still heavily modulated from the mask, “And those others? That omnic, Maximilian? And I’d heard stories about a shadowy figure called only Reaper, but I wasn’t sure that he actually existed. It’s mostly just been a source of speculation, a few blurry videos here and there like fucking… Bigfoot or something.”

You were now almost hyperventillating, quaking like a leaf in the wind, and you clawed at the mask on your face, struggling to find the latches to pop it off.

Ramattra placed a hand on your shoulder, steadying you as the ship began its ascent.

The mask clattered to the floor as you finally managed to tear it from you. Your eyes were wild with fear, and you gulped down air as though it would run out any moment.

He… did not like this look on you.

When had you become such a weak spot for him?

Tell me… what do you see when you look at me?

My friend.

That…was the first thing that had come to your mind when you looked at him.

Not that he was an R-7000, not just a figure of war….

“Do they truly frighten you so much?”

“Yes!”

“Why?”

“Humanity has grown complacent in its peace with omnics; Weak and bloated. We have seen where this weakness leads, to crisis, to the brink of extinction. But from the ashes of conflict, we rise. Humanity grows stronger only through our strife, and only through the gauntlet of conflict can we forge our way forward. As the saying goes, the gold that shines must first pass through fire. Akande Ogundimu, Unpublished Manuscript 2, 2071.” Your words were measured again, breaths starting to slow. “There’s a lot more in there, but that was the passage that stood out to me most. He also implied that if he could start a new Crisis, he would. I know… Talon acts as though they’re helping you, but these are very, very dangerous allies.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I told you, I studied them back in college.”

#odt #ramattra #ramattra x reader #x reader #a game of go #wip wednesday #sort of #thunderous applesauce

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writerblue275 · 4 months

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The One That Could Break My Heart (Chapter 2)

Inspiration: "Houdini" and “Break My Heart” - Dua Lipa, “Got Me Started” - Troye Sivan, “Tattoo” - Loreen (that’s right we’re adding another one lmao).

Champion: Ezreal (Like Pilty!Ez.)

Summary: You once again fill the role as Ezreal’s plus-one, but things don’t always go according to plan and you have a startling realization.

Genre: Song-inspired fic

Type: Fluff, Angst (but happy ending to chapter), Smut-ish (18+ ONLY. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Gender: Reader who is comfortable with she/her pronouns and with being referred to as a daughter. There are also typically fem presenting clothes and stuff mentioned (but obviously clothes and stuff are not limited to the gender binary).

TW: Swearing, suggestive content (NSFW). Some emotional distress/angst. Mention of torture/violence/death (Jesus that makes it sound so bad) mainly in a nightmare-ish setting. Mention of alcohol (drink responsibly).

Important context: I’m involving Jayce/early HexTech as an example because it’s my story lmao. This is like over double the length of Chapter 1, but you know what, a lot happens plot-wise, so 🤷‍♀️.

Also: Please take this as my humble holiday gift. Happy Christmas Eve to those who celebrate, and to those who don’t, Happy Holidays! I hope your winter season is filled with love and joy.

Key:

“Break My Heart” lyrics in orange

“Houdini” lyrics in blue

“Got Me Started” lyrics in purple

“Tattoo” lyrics in green

“Everything you say is soundin’ so sweet.”

As you slowly drift back to consciousness, your first thought is how lovely and warm you are. My bedroom isn’t normally this warm! Not without a pile of blankets on top of me. But now all you feel is a sheet and one blanket covering you and it’s perfect.

The next couple things your mind registers are arms around you and a pair of soft lips slowly and gently kissing up and down your neck. The feeling is heavenly and you can’t help but let out a soft unintelligible moan as your brain finally manages to register where you are and who the lips belong to. You’re at Ezreal’s house, in his bed, and those are his lips currently nibbling the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“E-Ez,” you murmur sleepily. You try to tilt your head a little to give him more space, try being the operative word. Your brain isn’t exactly connected to your muscles in its current sleepy state. You let out a happy whine as he chuckles and nips your jaw.

“Good morning, princess. Does that feel good?” he murmurs softly into your ear, his voice husky and a bit deeper from sleep.

You softly moan and lace your fingers with the hand he’s anchored on your stomach. “Ez, please…I’m not…dreaming…right?” Your question is just a little more coherent as you start to actually wake, though your words are definitely still sleep-slurred.

You can feel him chuckle against your neck. “Not a dream, baby. I’ve missed waking you up like this…” He punctuates his point by gently nipping your ear.

You can’t help but let out a soft whimper. As you try to shift in his embrace, you squeeze his hand, trying to use any leverage you can to face him, even with your eyes still closed. “Kiss me…please,” you sleepily beg as you’re unsuccessful in your mission of turning yourself in his arms.

“Easy….I’ve got you…easy, princess…let me take care of you,” Ezreal coos softly, gently adjusting you so you’re laying on your back before one of his hands returns to lace with yours. His other hand gently strokes along your side for a moment. “Can you open your eyes for me?" His lips gently kiss and nibble along your jawline.

You finally manage to flutter your eyes open, turning your head to the side his voice is coming from. There you’re greeted with a delightfully heart-stopping sight. Ez is smirking gently down at you as he rests on his side, head propped up on his palm, with the blanket slid down to his waist, showing off his bare chest and abs. You stretch your arms a little before reaching over and resting your hand on his chest, gently trailing your fingertips down, and giving him a sleepy little smile. “Good morning,” you murmur, your voice still a little husky as well, though he’s the main cause of that, not sleep.

All of his features light up as he smiles. “That’s it, princess,” he says quietly. He moves his head down towards yours. “Very good,” his voice ends in a whisper as he takes your lips in a kiss that can only be described as…drugging. It’s deep, slow, addictive, heart-racing, and breathtaking. It’s everything you wanted.

A happy noise slips from your throat and you tangle your hands in his hair as you kiss him back. After a few long moments, you pull away, a content smile on your lips. “You certainly know my favorite way to wake up” you sigh out, biting your bottom lip as you look up at him.

He gently uses his thumb to tug your bottom lip free of your teeth. The unexpected gesture causes your cheeks to heat and your heart to skip a few more beats. He leans down and kisses you deeply again, making you sigh again in even more delight as your hands move to rest against his chest.

“Sleep well?” He inquires in a murmur against your lips.

You slowly nod and stretch some more with a little smirk once he pulls back. “You made sure I would.”

After you and Ezreal cuddled for a while after finishing dinner last night, the two of you ended up going another round before you both fell asleep, him spooning you. It was truly exquisite, how easily you fell asleep. You never fall asleep as quickly as when you’re with him.

You gently flop back on the mattress, looking up at the ceiling as you’re transported into your mind. You can’t help but focus on the past. You think about how young you never would have imagined this situation being in the future of your friendship with the troublemaker son/nephew of your father’s colleagues. Her jaw would be on the floor.

“Princess, you just woke up! What’s got you thinking so much already?” Ez asks on a chuckle, poking your stomach gently.

You turn your head and shoot him a sleepy grin. “Just how shocked younger me would be that this is where our friendship has gone. She wouldn’t believe it at all. Remember? The first time we met I was so shy, I barely said a few sentences to you. Now look at us,” you remark. “Did you ever think things would be like this? With the history professor’s daughter?”

Ez looks down at you. He responds thoughtfully, “Honestly, no. Younger me didn’t see this being part of our future friendship/relationship to each other. But, I’ve never been so glad to be wrong in my life. I feel very lucky to have been wrong.” He leans down and kisses your forehead softly, his hand once again lacing with one of yours. The actions make your heart flutter and your eyes widen slightly.

You reach up with your free hand and gently cup his cheek, making him look at you. “Who are you and what have you done with Ezreal? You’ve been exceptionally affectionate and sweet since you’ve been home, Ez. Though I’m not complaining. I really like this sweet side of you, but it is different from how things have been in the past,” you observe softly. You let your curiosity linger for a moment before finally asking the questions that are stuck on your mind. “Ezreal, is…is everything alright? Is there anything you want to talk about? Did something happen on your expedition?”

You instantly notice how he stiffens as you mention his expedition and also how he hesitates as if thinking what to say.

You gently trace his bottom lip. “It’s alright, Ez. I won’t push you to tell me anything. I know I can’t comprehend everything you’ve seen in the field, especially when it comes to dangers you’ve faced,” you comment, moving to gently trace his jaw with your thumb.

He stiffens again slightly when you mention dangers. You know his body language well enough at this point to understand that he faced something that he’s hesitant to tell you about.

“As long as you know you can tell me anything without judgement, that’s all I care about,” you soothe, giving him a soft smile.

He leans down and kisses you softly, murmuring, “I do know that, and I’m very grateful. I will tell you. I’m just not ready to relive it quite yet.”

You nod and brush his hair out of his eyes. “Understood. I’m very sorry you went through that, then. When you are ready to talk about it it, I’m here to listen,” you promise him softly. “Always.”

“We’ve got that hot chemistry, you and me won’t make it out this house.”

It was a very slow and easy day for the two of you. Once both of you initially left bed, you shared a lovely and long shower, followed by a delicious, but simple, breakfast back in bed. Then the two of you just cuddled and chatted the afternoon away, mainly talking about your life updates since he was gone for two months with very little contact to home.

You also took a small little nap curled up against Ezreal’s chest. You fell asleep to his hands playing with your hair and rubbing your back, a perfect combination to knock you out.

A couple hours later, and now you’re getting ready for the dinner party with him.

Ez walks out of his closet and into his bathroom wearing a well-tailored black suit set and holding a garment bag, walking over to you as you finish putting on your makeup. He smiles as he meets your eyes in the bathroom vanity mirror. “Ready to see your dress? I think you’ll like it.

You smile back at him. “I’m sure I will. You know my fashion tastes very well by this point, Indiana Jones,” you observe. “Ok show me!” You turn towards him, closing your eyes, and patiently waiting as he unzips the cover.

Ezreal removes the dress from the garment bag and holds it up by the hanger. “Alright princess,” he says. “Open your eyes now.”

You do and you can’t help but let out a little gasp of delight at the clothing in front of you. It’s an off the shoulder purple cocktail-length dress with a fitted purple bodice at the top, covered in subtle 3d floral details, and a flowy tulle skirt that is ever-so-slightly high-low.

You murmur a little breathlessly, “Oh my goodness Ez, that’s so pretty! Is this what you bought the purple set to wear with?”

He nods and says, “As smart as ever. Yes, that’s why I got the purple set. It’s strapless at the top so you should be fine to wear it with this neckline.”

You immediately walk closer to him and kiss his cheek, murmuring happily, “Thank you, Ez. It’s truly beautiful. I honestly don’t know what I did to deserve such special gifts, but thank you for giving them to me.” You pull back and immediately walk over to your bag, getting out the purple set, with its matching top, bottoms, and garter belt.

As you gently herd him out of the bathroom and close the door you call out, “After I change into these, will you help me into the dress? I’ll need assistance with that zipper.”

“Of course. Happy to help, princess,” he calls back.

You quickly change into the lacy purple set, also pulling on some hose and connecting them to your garters. As you check yourself out in the bathroom mirror, you can’t help but say, “Well fuck! I look sexy...”

Ez’s voice sounds through the closed bathroom door, tinged with amusement, “You always do, princess. Why do you sound so surprised?”

You can’t help but smirk and giggle, “Such a charmer, Ez! Alright come in, I’m ready for your help.”

You just giggle even more as he opens the door and freezes after taking only a couple steps with his eyes glued on you.

“Fucking hell, (Y/N), you look stunning,” he breathes. He hangs up the dress on a clothes peg behind him before quickly coming over to you. The second he reaches you, one of his hands is in your hair and the other is pulling you to him, holding your waist. His lips are on yours with a passion that has you gasping and even has your knees going a little weak, making you wrap your arms around his neck just to make sure you don’t fall. He chuckles, sliding the hand on your waist around your back so his arm helps better support you as his lips move to your jaw and throat.

You’re practically panting as you try to recatch your breath. “Careful Indiana Jones,” you gasp and whimper as his lips find a particularly sensitive spot beneath your ear. “Keep this up and we won’t even make it out of this house to get to dinner. Hell, we won’t even make it out of this bedroom.”

His very amused murmur sounds in your ear, “Don’t threaten me with a good time. I see no problem with that particular outcome, baby. That sounds like a far more enjoyable evening to me.” His lips reattach themselves to your neck, causing you to gasp again as your hands tangle in his hair.

“Ezreal, do not leave a hickey when we’re about to go in public. I was barely able to throw my brother and parents off their suspicions of you the last time you left a visible mark. I’m still not completely sure they believe me. Do you know how it would look if we show up together and I have hickeys on me? I’m fairly certain my parents and your uncle would murder both of us once they heard about it!” You scold him breathlessly as you tug on his hair to get him to remove his lips from your neck.

He just smirks wickedly and instead of pulling away completely, he moves his lips to the soft skin of your upper arm. “Fine. Then I won’t make it obvious. I’m still going to mark you, though. Just in a place your dress covers. I know how much you love it when I mark you, (Y/N), don’t even try to say you don’t.”

You close your eyes and let out a soft noise of pleasure as your head goes back. “Fuck…I do,” you let out on a sigh as he does just what he said he would. He leaves a cluster of small marks on soft skin that will soon be covered by the off-the-shoulder sleeves of your dress.

He pulls back to admire his handiwork. “Perfect,” he observes on a smirk. “Now let’s get you into your dress so you can fix your hair. Apologies for messing it up,” he says, not sounding apologetic in the very slightest as he checks himself over in the mirror. “Whatever makeup you used though, good choice. Your lipstick didn’t smudge or get on me at all.”

You laugh as you wait for him to unzip the dress from the hanger and bring it over to you. “I should be upset with you about messing up my hair, but I can’t really be mad when you kiss me like that. Damn, Ezreal!” Your voice is still a little breathless. “That was…..woah…”

He laughs as he stands behind you and helps you step into the dress. He holds it up as you put your arms through the unconventional sleeves. He also helps zip you up, wrapping his arms around you, leaning forward, and kissing a bare shoulder once he’s done. “There,” he murmurs. “Just as incredible as I thought you would look.”

You smile and turn, kissing his cheek softly and uttering a gentle, “thank you.” You reluctantly step out of the warmth of his arms, going to the mirror to quickly fix your mussed hair. When you turn around again, he’s holding a pair of purple heels that match your dress. Once you walk over to him, he offers his arm and lets you use him to stabilize yourself as you step into the heels. They’re not ungodly tall, but heels have never been your forte.

You look at him with a raised brow. “Making sure I hang onto you all night, are you, Indiana Jones? You know me and heels aren’t besties. Promise to keep me upright?” you tease.

He sends you a wink. “Always, princess."

He leads you downstairs once you grab your small clutch with your essentials in it. As he opens the front door, you see a pretty carriage with horses and a driver.

You pause, your mouth opening in a surprised oval as you let out a small little gasp of, “Oh!”

You hear Ez chuckle next to you. “I thought we’d arrive in classic style tonight. And besides, I didn’t want to make you walk in those heels,” he murmurs as he offers you his arm to hold. Once you’re securely holding onto him, he leads you to the carriage steps, making sure you’re able to easily get in before pulling himself up and into the plush interior to the bench next to you. He laces his fingers with yours as he calls out to the driver to go.

After about a 10-minute ride, you see the line of carriages lined up to drop off occupants at the mansion of the council member who was hosting tonight’s dinner. You couldn’t even remember who was hosting. You only knew a couple of the councilors and it wasn’t any of them. As your carriage approaches the drop off point, you start to get nervous as you see flashes of exposed camera bulbs going off.

“You think by now I’d be used to the cameras and reporters,” you utter, “but god they still freak me out. I’m not photogenic, Ez. I still don’t get why you don’t have some model come with you. They’d do so much better in front of the cameras and in polite conversations. You could get whoever you wanted.” Your hands are starting to shake as your anxiety starts to really kick in.

Ezreal uses a finger to gently turn your head towards him. “(Y/N)…hey, don’t say stuff like that. You look incredible. Also, a random model isn’t my best friend of almost two decades who knows me better than I know myself a lot of times. And they certainly wouldn’t be as fascinating as I find you to be,” he voices reassuringly. He ends his affirmations with a quick peck to your lips. “I’ll do most of the talking if that makes you feel better. Just hold onto me. I’ll never let you fall or look stupid. Do you trust me on that?” Ez’s gentle question helps break through your nerves.

“Of course. I trust you completely, Ezreal. Always,” you answer honestly, giving him a small smile before taking a deep breath and rolling your shoulders back.

He smiles at you. “That’s more like it. Ready, princess? Your adoring public awaits,” he jokes.

You can’t help but grin. “But of course! As per usual, I’m ready to be your arm candy, Indiana Jones. Lead the way!”

“It’s your moment baby don’t let it slip.”

He laughs as the driver finally opens the carriage doors at the drop off point. Ez easily slides out of the carriage before turning back to you and helping you down the gap between the carriage steps and the ground. He makes sure you’re stable and offers you his arm to hold.

You smile brightly at Ez as you take his arm. “Thank you!” you whisper. You allow him to lead you along the walkway lined with reporters and photographers. You keep your attention primarily focused on him, and honestly it does wonders for tuning everything else out. He primarily keeps his attention on you as well, chatting casually with you instead of talking to the reporters or photographers clambering for his attention. Before you even know it, both of you are being welcomed into the spacious home of the councilman hosting. “Hoskel,” You hear his name murmured by some passing staff.

The two of you are led to a drawing room where everyone is gathering before moving to the dining room for the formal dinner. Your names are both announced by a very distinguished looking butler. As soon as Ez’s name is announced, there’s a moment of stunned silence as people stare at him before the chattering gets even louder, everyone clearly discussing the return of Piltover’s “prodigal explorer.”

You lean close to his ear. “Looks like you’ll be the hot topic as per usual. Granted, I already knew about the “hot” part,” you playfully tease.

He smirks at you. “Ready for the introductions, princess?” He murmurs. “The only important people I don’t see in here are councilor Hoskel and his wife, but I’m sure they’re just playing host.” He squeezes your hand as the first curious guests approach for an introduction. It didn’t take long, but you’re not shocked. Everyone wants to meet and talk to Ezreal.

You’re touched how Ez always makes sure to introduce you when he’s meeting someone. Out of the two of you, he’s always been far more of a social butterfly. Having him do most of the talking works really well for your dynamic. As he introduces you, as always, you are surprised at the number of people who recognize your last name. You’ve always been proud of your father, your mother who is an attorney, and your brother, who is involved in Piltover politics, but now you realize their accomplishments are farther reaching than you even realized. They’re very well respected, even among Piltover’s elite. Knowing how humble you are, Ez also makes sure to brag about your many accomplishments, making you blush and smile shyly before you talk about yourself.

Once there’s a lull in the introductions, you lean over to him again. “It’s kind of you to brag about my accomplishments, Ez, but they really don’t compare to yours. You’re doing the impossible,” you murmur.

He frowns a little bit. “(Y/N) your accomplishments are just as important. Your past successes when you were in music. Your multiple degrees in public health. Your non-profit work in cancer treatment research. Your job literally helps find cures for cancer. Don’t you realize how incredible that is? You’re very easy to brag about, princess. You’ve done incredible things and I’ve always been really proud of you,” he murmurs back passionately.

“Ez….that’s,” you battle speechlessness. After a moment you squeeze the arm you’re holding onto. “You keep saying the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me,” you manage softly, almost fighting back tears. “T-thank you…truly..”

“And I mean all of it, (Y/N). I’m proud to have you in my life, just as I’ve heard you say you’re proud to have me in yours,” he says.

You slide your hand down his arm and lace your fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze. “I believe you, Ez. And it means so much to me, I can’t even say the proper words. But thank you.” You pause for a moment before leaning over and quickly pecking his cheek.

Such displays of affection in public are rare between the two of you. Neither of you want anyone to get the wrong idea. But he doesn’t look upset. In fact, there’s a very slight twinge of pink on his cheeks along with a shy smile.

Just then, the host and his wife walk in and announce dinner. Everyone is led to the main dining room which is elegantly decorated with a massive table in the middle. Ez leads you to the two chairs with your names in front of them. He’s sitting to your right and the two of you are only a couple seats down from the head of the table. No doubt so Hoskel can ask Ez his own questions about his expedition. Ez pulls out your chair, waiting for you to sit before pushing your seat closer to the table for you.

You smile at him. “Thank you, Ez. Always a gentleman,” you observe happily before lowering your voice and leaning closer to his ear. “Well at least you are in public.” You smirk so only he can see. “In private with me, you’re certainly no gentleman…”

He gets a wicked grin on his face and winks at you as he leans down, his voice practically a low purr against your ear, “I take offense to that, princess. I believe you thought me quite a gentleman this morning.”

“Only after our shower. Before that, you were only a semi-gentleman, Ezreal.” You grin at him as he sits down next to you. Both of you put your napkins on your laps and look around as everyone else settles in. Tonight you’re dining with quite a few members of Piltover’s elite and regardless if you’re very chatty or not, it’s an interesting people-watching opportunity.

Dinner soon starts with an appetizer of a delicious and light soup that reminds you of gazpacho. Once people settle into the course, conversation continues easily again, and sure enough, one of the guests on your end of the table soon asks Ezreal if it’s true he just returned from an excursion.

Ez nods. “I did. I was in the southwest area of Shurima for two months, looking for a legendary tomb only talked about in ancient manuscripts. The tomb is called the Tomb of the Fallen Lovers. Supposedly it’s where an old king went mad and buried himself alive after witnessing the death of his beloved queen via torture when their kingdom was invaded.”

A hush falls over the table as he speaks, everyone eager to hear his story. “How tragic!” You hear someone murmur to their table mate.

Ez turned his head toward the commenter. “Yes it was tragic. What made it even more tragic was she hadn’t been tortured at all. It was all the cruel illusion of an enemy mage. So his queen was unharmed all this time. Then she went mad with grief when she learned what happened to her husband, sealing herself in with him. The tomb is believed to be cursed and anyone who enters will see one of their loved ones being tortured in order for them to lose their will to live, just as the king did. And that’s just one trap protecting the tomb. There are many others as well,” he explained.

He pauses a moment to build up anticipation. Once he looks around, he continues, “The traps were both physical traps, and mental traps caused by magic. And they were hiding things. Elixirs, amulets, and other treasures. Which I was able to retrieve.”

Ez then goes into a longer explanation of a lot of the physical traps he faced. You find yourself getting more and more tense as he explains all the dangers he experienced. He’d really been in quite a bit of peril, and that was upsetting for you to think about. Though you know he is extremely capable, you don't enjoy thinking about your best friend being in danger. As he continues, you’re really hoping Ez can’t see the slight tremor of your soup spoon.

It seems you aren’t so lucky at avoiding Ez’s keen sense of observation. After a couple more moments of him talking, you feel a warm hand gently slide onto your right knee under the table. His hand is over the fabric of your dress, but the thin tulle isn’t much of an insulator from his body heat.

You subtly switch your soup spoon to your left hand so you can covertly slide your right hand on top of his, giving it a gentle squeeze to give your permission to his touch. You then remove your hand from his so you can continue to act as if you’re just listening to his story casually, like everyone else. Internally though, your brain is practically short circuiting as his hand very slowly makes its way up your thigh, above your dress. It takes every ounce of your control to keep from blushing wildly as his thumb gently traced the letters of his name, your name, and then other words you can’t make out against your skirt.

This smart smart man. He knows what he’s doing. You think you’d be used to it by now, with the number of times he’s done it, but every time, his gentle touch manages to completely snare your attention. Soon enough you’re not listening at all to the words of his story, distracted to the point of only focusing on keeping your face pleasantly impassive.

Eventually he gives your thigh one last squeeze before moving his hand back down to your knee. It’s his own way of warning you he’s winding down his story, allowing you time to gradually tune back into his words.

The next person to speak is councilor Hoskel. “Ezreal, you’ve been to many places very few of us could comprehend. Places filled with all sorts of traps, both physical and magical, as you say. What has been the worst or scariest trap you’ve ever faced to get an artifact?”

The unexpected happens. You feel Ezreal, nearly unshakable in all things, freeze and stiffen. His hand on your knee grips a little tighter, as if he’s trying to keep himself anchored to you and to reality. You glance at him, keeping a straight face even as you’re increasingly alarmed to notice he’s gone pale. He’s hesitating, and you can tell by how tense he is this question makes Ezreal think of something that truly rattled him. You hate seeing your usually unflappable partner-in-crime so tense.

As you lace your fingers with his hand on your knee, squeezing his hand reassuringly, you do something you tend to avoid doing at these events. You draw attention to yourself.

Your words to the councilman are coated in a deceptively polite coolness. “Councilor Hoskel, are you aware how insensitive your question is?” It’s a blatantly bold statement, especially to a member of Piltover’s ruling council, but your loyalty to Ez has you speaking without a filter, and well, it’s too late to take it back now.

The rest of the diners sitting around you let out a soft gasp. Hoskel himself looks stunned at your audacity. “Insensitive? Please elaborate,” he demands.

You stare him down as you gently squeeze Ezreal’s hand again, a silent indicator that you’re gladly taking this man on. “I’m sure Ezreal would rather not relive something he classifies as “the worst trap he’s ever faced.” We heard at the beginning of his story the tale of the fallen lovers and how the tomb came to have its name. That entire series of events was caused by an extremely cruel moment of magic. As Ezreal told us, that curse still exists meaning anyone who enters they tomb will see a realistic illusion of someone they love dearly being violently tortured and killed. For the sake of my argument, I’ll use that trap as my example. This is a rhetorical question, but if it were you, would you want to remind yourself of the time you saw an illusion of your lovely wife in that situation?” You say, pausing a moment to let what you just said sink in with everyone before continuing.

“I certainly wouldn’t want to relive that moment, especially not if I only recently experienced it for the first time anyway. That is just one of many psychological, mystical, and physical traps Ezreal has faced across the continent, and not even just the continent, but in that tomb alone, as he just told us. If it were me, the last thing I’d like to do is think about all the moments I faced intense magic or weapons that were set with the sole purpose of killing me. Especially when I must think about said moments because someone wants to be entertained by my answer. That seems like it’s own unique form of psychological torture,” you observe quietly but firmly. “In Piltover, we’ve seen the beauty of magic and human ingenuity, using Mr. Talis’ burgeoning HexTech as an example. What Ezreal does on his expeditions repeatedly brings him face-to-face with magic’s cruelty, as well as the dangerous cunning of humanity. Horrific things you and I could never dare to imagine.” You never once take your eyes off of Hoskel’s face, and you take great pride in the fact that he’s the one to first look away.

Hoskel finally meets your eyes again and nods. His acknowledgment is begrudging as he says, “I see your reasoning. You have an excellent point, Miss…”

“(Y/L/N),” you quickly finish his sentence for him.

Hoskel studies you closely. “Like the history professor at the academy?”

You nod. “Yes sir, he’s my father,” you explain. “My mother is one of the personal attorneys for councilor Kiramman and her family. You also work with my twin brother. He’s a member of the sub council that oversees daily academy affairs.” You explain proudly. You then do another thing you try to avoid at all costs. You brag about yourself, “I myself work in the non-profit sector helping run clinical trials for cancer drugs. It might not be the most “glamorous” work, but I’m proud to do it and try to make a difference in the lives of Piltovans.” Bragging about yourself isn’t something you like to do at all, but you know how elite society craves social connections, and you fear it’s needed in order to make your point to the arrogant man. At least you can brag about the rest of your family, who you are extremely proud of.

Hoskel looks at you with newfound respect. “House (Y/L/N) has done quite well for itself. I should have known who you were. I’d heard you were the one usually found on Ezreal’s arm when he’s at an event such as this, and now I understand why. You and your family are quite impressive.

You smile at Ez, who is looking far more normal-colored at this point, and run your thumb over his knuckles under the table before speaking. “Ezreal and I have been very close friends for almost two decades. We’ve known each other since early childhood. While he brags about my accomplishments, as well as the accomplishments of my family, I certainly don’t think my family’s social connections or achievements are why he invites me.”

It’s at this point you feel Ez squeeze your hand, silently signaling to you he’s jumping back into the conversation. “(Y/N) is right. I bring her because there is no one who understands me better nor is there anyone I trust more. Though I am more than happy to brag about (Y/N) at any time to those who will listen. She’s extremely impressive as we’ve all heard.”

Hoskel nods. “So she is,” he agrees. “And wise. She’s correct. My question to you was insensitive. I apologize, Ezreal. I spoke without thinking.”

Ezreal nods once to the councilor, acknowledging and accepting his apology through the simple gesture.

As the appetizer course is cleared and fragrant roast is set in front of you, you lean over to Ezreal and whisper, “Are you alright, Ez? Based on your reaction I figured that question brought back things you’d rather forget. I didn’t mean to step in as I know you can handle yourself, but…I…”your voice trails off as you hope you didn’t overstep.

Ez looks over at you and squeezes the hand he’s still holding. “Thank you for stepping in. I mean it. You’re exactly right. It brings things to mind I never want to think about again,” he whispers back. “But on a lighter note, how many people can say they have someone in their corner ready to take on a damn council member for them? You hid it very well, but I know you. You were absolutely furious with him.

You nod. “I was livid with him, yes,” you admit. “And I think my mother would be quite proud of how I respectfully tore him down a couple pegs. The question just made me so angry. Hadn’t he been paying attention? Magic and humanity can be cruel.”

“They certainly can be. But anyway, maybe I should start calling you “Angel,” since you were my avenging angel just now,” his voice takes on a playful tone as he responds.

You feel your cheeks get a little warm. “I don’t hate it. Test it out on me once the dancing starts, yeah?” You murmur with a wink.

He squeezes your hand one last time before letting go of it so he can eat the main course, nodding at you. “Good plan, princess."

“Am I falling in love with the one that could break my heart?”

The rest of dinner goes by without any fuss, and soon everyone is excused to gather in the ballroom for dancing. Ez stands and helps you up, again offering a stable arm for you to hold. He murmurs close to your ear, “Ready, Angel?”

You smile and murmur back low against his ear, “A. Yes I am ready. B. Oh I like the new nickname….it gets my stamp of approval.”

He chuckles, “Good because I like it too.”

“Now since it’s been two months, how worried should I be about my feet this evening, hrm?” You tease. You don’t really mean it. Ezreal is a surprisingly divine dancer. He always says that his dancing classes as a kid made his footwork much more agile for his expeditions, and you believe the agility he needs on his expeditions has turned him into an even better dancer.

You glance over to see Ezreal smiling widely at you. He gently squeezes your arm holding onto him. “I feel like I should be asking you that, Angel. You’re in heels this evening,” he murmurs.

You give him a playful pout. “Because of you, Ezreal! You picked out my footwear for tonight.”

He laughs. “So I did. I suppose any damage I take is my own doing.”

“Oh shush,” you giggle as you playfully swat his arm. “You’re skilled enough to deal with my two left feet.”

He smirks widely at you as the two of you find yourself in a beautiful ballroom. There are multiple doors opening to more private balconies, as well as to let air in. There’s also a bar where flutes of champagne and sparkling rosé are being poured. It’s a luxurious space, perfect for someone trying to show off his wealth and power.

You tilt your head towards the bar. “I didn’t have any of the wine with dinner, so I think I’d like some sparkling wine now. Care to join me?”

He instantly starts leading you that direction. “Of course, princess. That sounds like a great idea,” he easily agrees.

Once the two of you have your sparkling wines, him champagne, you the dry sparkling rosé, he leads you by the hand to one of the smaller more private balconies. On the side of the room he picks, there’s only the one, so it really is more like a completely private balcony just for the two of you. He draws the set of curtains in front of the door to show it's occupied. There’s a little table set up, and there’s plenty enough space for two people to dance.

You smile at him and say, “Thank you…my social battery was getting pretty drained when it came to people that weren’t you. This is perfect, Ez. Can we stay out here for a little bit?”

“Angel, we can stay out here as long as you’d like. I was also pretty done with most of the people in there,” he murmurs back as he wraps an arm around your waist and gently pulls you against his side, looking at you fondly. “We should be able to hear the music out here as well, so we don’t even have to go back inside for dancing.”

You sip your rosé and gently rest your head against his shoulder as you and him just watch the sunset. “That sounds…perfect,” you sigh happily.

“Glad to hear it, Angel. I aim to please,” he says.

You glance up at him with a shy smile. “Ezreal, you do an excellent job of pleasing me. In every way that matters and even some that don’t,” you admit. It’s quite an intimate admission, but it’s the truth. Even just being with him, standing here, makes you so very happy.

His eyes light up. “Do I?” he asks in a murmur. “Good. Since we’re being honest with each other, I can tell you that you also do an excellent job of pleasing me, again in all the ways that matter and even those that don’t. Always.”

You finish your wine as he’s talking, gently rubbing his back with the arm you put around him, the one not holding your flute. As he finishes talking, you lean up and kiss his cheek. “Ez, you are so important to me, and I hope you know that. My life would be infinitely darker without you in it,” you say, meaning every single word.

He turns his head and kisses your temple gently. His lips linger on your skin as he quietly confesses, “I do know that. I hope you know I feel the same way about you. A life without you…well that wouldn’t be living to me.”

You look at him as your heart speeds up from his incredibly tender words and the incredibly soft expression he’s looking at you with. “Ezreal…” you whisper, stunned. Tonight alone he’s managed to render you speechless twice by saying the absolute sweetest things. You reach up and cup his cheek, returning his soft expression with one of your own.

Just then, the music starts, disrupting the moment and causing both of you to jump in surprise a little since you were so focused on each other.

You can’t help but start giggling, “Fuck, that scared me!” You lean your head against his shoulder as you continue giggling, and eventually Ez joins in laughing with you, leaning his head on yours for a moment before stepping back from you and facing you.

“Now that we have music, Angel, may I have this dance?” Ezreal asks with a smirk and a well practiced bow, holding his hand out for you to take.

You deposit your empty flute on the little side table before turning back to him and curtsying. “I’d be delighted to give you this dance,” you say, playfully sweet as you place your hand in his, smiling as he easily pulls you closer.

His arms both snake around your waist as the two of you slowly start to sway to the music. Your left arm goes up around his shoulders, while your right hand gently comes up to rest on his chest where his heart is beating. You sigh happily as you let him lead.

He smiles softly at you. “Is this alright, princess?” He asks gently.

You give him a tender smile in return. "Of course," you murmur. “Ez?”

“Yes, Angel?” His soft response gently floats around you, almost like a hug.

“It’s funny you say, Angel, because if you get something new to call me, can I call you something new? You call me Princess, baby, and Angel, while I just call you Ez and Indiana Jones. That seems a little uneven to me."

He smirks gently at you. “I suppose it is uneven. I have no issues with you calling me something else. What were you thinking?” He voices curiously.

“Now of course this would just be between us two when we’re in private, but since you call me baby, could I call you that?” Your voice is shy as you ask the question. “I-I understand if you don’t want me to though, and I can find something else. It just seemed easiest since you already call me that.”

“No, you’re right, that makes sense. Sure, Angel. I have no issues with you calling me that,” he murmurs gently.

You smile brightly at him. “Thank you, baby.” You test out the new nickname. “Oh! What do you think?”

“I like it. It gets my full seal of approval,” Ez states with a grin.

Both of you laugh as you continue to dance with each other, softly chatting for a little bit. Eventually though, you two are just swaying back and forth in comfortable silence, your foreheads resting against one another. The position is so beautifully and peacefully intimate. You’ve never felt as safe as you do on this balcony. And as you realize it, you’re almost a little frightened, as odd as it sounds.

You’ve danced with Ezreal at these sorts of events hundreds of times over the years, but the last few times? Well, you realize they’ve all started feeling like this. Like it’s just you two while everything else is tuned out. Your heart keeps skipping so many beats, all because of one person, the man currently holding you in his arms, and it terrifies you to think about.

Your thoughts start to race as this realization sinks in. Oh shit...what the hell have I done to myself? What have I done in general?? Oh my god….oh my dear fucking god…am I…falling in love with him? Frankly you’re pretty sure you know the answer but you're refusing to believe that right now. That would mean admitting to breaking your own condition you put forth the morning you two agreed to this whole thing. “Condition number 4. No falling in love with each other.”

No, of course I’m not falling in love with him. I’m just surprised because he’s been so sweet since he’s been home this time. It’s because he’s been gone for two months, that’s all. Nothing else. Definitely nothing potentially friendship-ruining. Nope. Absolutely not. Everything is just fine. At this point you’re basically willing yourself to believe that because the alternative isn’t pretty in the slightest.

You're so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice your arm around his shoulder tightening and your hand on his chest closing into a small fist, but Ezreal does. He can tell you’re completely distracted by something, so he gently kisses your forehead and murmurs softly, “Everything alright, princess? You’re really tense all of a sudden.”

You blink at him in surprise as his gentle voice snaps you back to the present. “O-oh! Y-yes, s-sorry. I didn’t mean to woolgather. I think my feet just finally registered I’m in heels. And they’ve started to hurt a bit. I-it was bound to happen eventually during the evening.” Your excuse is a little weak, but it’s not completely a lie. Your feet are starting to hurt because of the heels.

He nods. “Got it,” he says. “Would you like to sit? Or after one more song we can go home? Whatever you’d like.”

You give him a slightly shaky smile. “One more dance sounds good, Ez,” you decide.

He’s known you long enough though to see that something really has you bothered, and while he knows well that you and heels don’t get along, he’s pretty sure there’s something else in addition to your feet hurting, but he knows better than to push you to talk about it, just as you didn’t push him this morning to talk about what happened on his expedition. He spins you one more time under his arm before gently stepping back.

You hate how the cells in your body immediately seem to protest his absence once he’s away from you, but you can’t seem to help it.

He gives you a bow and murmurs. “The conversation from dinner still has me a little tense. I think going home is wise, Angel. Is that alright with you?"

You start to relax as you nod.

“I know these aren’t your favorite things to go to, so thank you again for coming with me. Truly. There’s no one I’d rather go with,” he says with a small but genuine smile.

Internally, that sets off your alarm bells again. Oh god he can’t say stuff like that to me. I’ll start to believe it…He says it so casually too…fuck me…damnit this isn’t good.

Externally though you manage to keep a calm demeanor, smiling gently at him and squeezing the hand he offers you. “These aren’t my favorite things, true, but you make them much more tolerable,” you admit. You are being honest there. While you might be freaking out inside, you’re not afraid to admit that being with Ez does make elitist society bullshit like this better.

The two of you re-enter the ballroom, leaving the almost cozy little world you created for yourselves on the balcony. The loud hum of conversation is a little jarring compared to the companionable silence and soft conversation the two of you found yourselves in moments ago.

Despite your prior warning thoughts to yourself, you find yourself gripping Ezreal’s hand a little tighter as he leads you through the room to where councilor Hoskel is standing.

Ezreal speaks once he has Hoskel’s attention. “Councilor, we greatly appreciate the invitation. Dinner was delicious and the company delightful. Unfortunately, I find myself still not fully recovered from my journey. I hope you’ll forgive our abrupt departure.”

You listen as he easily slips into the high-society member his parents, when they were here, and uncle trained him to be. You, Ez, and your brother even shared the same cotillion tutor when you were younger, and in moments like this, you’re grateful for the stuffy old woman and her lessons.

You step up next to Ezreal and smile at the elder man. “Yes, truly, thank you for hosting us. I hope the rest of the evening runs just as smoothly as it has so far,” you add on to Ez’s statement.

The councilman smiles at the two of you before jovially saying, “I’m very glad both of you could make it. I look forward to following your next journey, Ezreal. I’m even happy to help fund it when the time comes. And you, Miss (Y/L/N), your future is very bright. Your willingness to always speak your mind and make people listen is unconventional, but very admirable. I’m excited to follow your career, help where I can, and see where you go. I initially thought the friendship between the two of you was an odd pairing, but after the conversation at dinner, I see why Ezreal is always asking you to join him at society events. You clearly do understand him better than anyone. You two make an excellent team, the type of team that only comes from knowing each other as long as you two have. Treasure it in whatever form it takes. Companionship such as this is extremely rare to find.”

You and Ezreal speak simultaneously, “I will.”

You look over at him and blush a little.

Ezreal looks back at you, his expression a little surprised and the very slightest amount of pink on his cheeks. He quickly recovers and turns his attention back to Hoskel. “We appreciate the kind words, sir. Please enjoy the rest of your evening,” he voices before squeezing your hand and leading you from the ballroom to the front of the house where the butler was already informed of your intended departure and had the fancy little carriage brought back around for you two.

You gladly let Ez assist you into the carriage before scooting over on the seat so he can slide in next to you. “That was…that was quite the evening,” you murmur as you gently lean against him and rest your head on his shoulder. “For fuck’s sake, I took on a Piltover councilor. During the soup course!”

Ez’s arm makes its way around you. “For me, nonetheless. It was one of the most impressive things I’ve ever seen, (Y/N),” he chuckles softly before gently turning your head to look at him with a soft finger on your chin so he can gently peck your lips. “Thank you, Angel,” he whispers.

You just can’t help it as you lean forward and peck his lips in return, almost like a second nature response at this point. “You’re welcome, Ez. I'll always stand up for the people in my life that I are care about. You know that," you murmur affectionately.

He gently smiles and pulls you closer, allowing you two the rest of the ride to unwind. He’s just so sweet and gentle with you, but even then you can tell something is still a little off with him. You wager he’s likely still a little shaken up by the question he was asked at dinner, and you can’t blame him. While you don’t know everything Ez has faced, you know enough that pondering the “worst” trap he’s seen must be extremely difficult.

“Ez? Dinner and dancing wore me out, so I think I’m just going to undress and relax in bed for a while and read,” you say.

“I like that idea, Angel. I think I’ll join you, if that’s alright?" His voice goes into a very very gentle tease, “If it helps to convince you, I’ll provide the cuddles…”

You can’t help but giggle softly. “I was hoping you would,” you admit, making him smile widely at you.

Once the carriage gets to the front of his house, he gets out and hops down before turning back to help you. Since it’s really just you two and the driver who doesn’t really care, Ez makes it easy on both of you by just sweeping you into his arms and carrying you inside with a gentle, “So you don’t have to walk anymore in those heels.”

You rest your head against his shoulder. “Thank you Prince Charming,” you sigh happily as he once again carries you easily upstairs and to his room before gently setting you on the bed and helping you take off your heels.

“Happy to serve you, my princess,” he says with a wink, making you laugh. He then moves around and helps you unzip your dress so you can remove it, letting out a low whistle as he again sees the purple set. “Again, you look fucking stunning,” he murmurs. He softly kisses along your neck and jaw as he helps you remove your hose and the rest of the lingerie.

As he focuses his attention on undressing you, you make sure to do the same for him, quickly undoing his tie and unbuttoning his suit, pants, vest, and dress shirt. As soon as his shirt is unbuttoned your hands are on his chest, savoring the delicious warmth of his skin and the sure “thump” of his heartbeat. You can’t help but look up and giggle softly at him, “How unfair…you’ve thoroughly distracted me.”

“Just as you do to me, Angel,” he chuckles as he undresses the rest of the way. “But, let’s at least get your makeup off and our nighttime stuff done before we distract each other too much, yeah?”

You nod and stand, pecking his lips before you go into the bathroom with your toiletries kit, happily beginning to take off your makeup. You call out to him, “Why is it that getting unready almost feels better than getting ready?? I love dressing up, especially in the beautiful things you so kindly get me, but the feeling of removing my bra for the day and getting my face washed and teeth brushed is almost…divine!”

He comes and joins you in the bathroom, sharing the sink with you. “It’s a good question. I can’t relate to the bra part,” he muses with a grin, “but definitely agree about the feeling of getting the night routine done. Maybe it’s because, once you get it done, that’s when you feel like you can most truly relax.”

You nod in agreement as you brush your teeth. He has an excellent point, and you make sure to tell him so once you don’t have a mouth full of toothpaste. “See, now this is why I like you. Most people would write my musings off as silly ramblings, but not you, baby. You gave me a genuine answer, and I agree with you. I think that’s a great reason!” You rest your head on his shoulder for a moment and smile at him in the mirror.

He laughs. “Anyone who dares to call your brilliant mind silly can fight me. We have the most interesting conversations, Angel.”

You blush happily and kiss his bare shoulder before returning to your night routine. Before long, both of you are cuddling in bed, your legs tangled together and his arms around you as you rest against him and happily read your book. The moment is so lovely and peaceful, you practically forget the stressful thoughts you had earlier. Soon enough, you’re falling asleep, nuzzling his neck as he tells you a story about one of his happier adventures.

“No I don’t care about the pain; I’ll walk through fire and through rain; just to get closer to you…”

You’re not sure how long you’ve been asleep when you’re woken up by a soft whimper. Everything is still pitch black out and you’re listening to the stillness to see if it happens again. Eventually you hear it again, and this time you realize it’s coming from Ez who has started shifting in his sleep, based on the movement of the mattress.

“Ez?” you murmur sleepily, wondering if he’s awake. It’s only when he doesn’t respond that you realize he’s likely having a dream.

Suddenly you hear a “(Y/N)? No….no stop!” slip from Ez’s lips.

Oh, he’s sleep talking. He’s saying out loud what he’s saying in his dream, you realize. You focus back on him, trying to figure out what sort of dream he could be having that would make him say your name.

Suddenly, he speaks again, this time his voice a lot more….panicked, which is never a word you associate with your level-headed best friend. “(Y/N)! No! S-Stop! Let her go! She has nothing to do with this! Hurt me if you must, but please don’t hurt her! I’m the one who entered this tomb. N-No! (Y/N)! Kill me, damnit! My life for hers! Just let her go! (Y/N) please hold on! I’m almost there!” His voice is frantic and he’s starting to struggle in the blankets, as if desperately trying to get to you.

Your alarm skyrockets as it’s clear he’s having a terrible nightmare about one of his expeditions and it involves you being hurt in some way. You quickly throw on the lamp on the bedside table and carefully move the covers off of him. While you’re worried about him, you know panicking won’t do anything to help. Your voice is as calm as possible as you shake Ez’s bare shoulder and say, “Ez? Ezreal? Baby, wake up. It’s just a nightmare, Ezreal. It’s (Y/N). Ez! Wake up.”

“No!” he cries out desperately as he suddenly awakens and startles up. His breathing is ragged, tears streaming down his cheeks. He’s trembling and gripping the blanket like a lifeline.

“Ezreal?” You gently turn his head to look in your direction. His eyes are wide and unseeing in a haunted expression, and it’s clear he’s not fully awake yet. You cup his jaw, kiss his forehead, and tenderly wipe away his tears. You continue to speak to him in soothing tones as he shakes like a leaf, “Shhhhh Ez, you’re ok. It’s me. It’s (Y/N). Look at me, baby. Focus on me. Focus on my voice. I’m safe, Ezreal. I’m completely safe. Nothing bad happened to me. It was only a bad dream, Ez. We’re safe in Piltover. We’re safe in your room.”

You note the moment he’s fully awake by the spark of recognition in his eyes.

“(Y/N)? You’re ok? You’re not hurt?” he says, his eyes and voice still holding some panic as he frantically looks you over, hands skimming you to physically check your well being for himself.

Whatever he saw has him absolutely terrified. You’ve never seen him so rattled, and it’s honestly jarring, but you don’t let that show, still intent on calming him at the moment.

You gently rest your forehead against his to get him to really focus on you, continuing to wipe away any tears that fall. Your heart squeezes as you continue try and ease the fear from his eyes. “Shhhh. Shhh Ezreal…breathe slowly for me. I’m ok…I’m safe, baby. I promise you, I’m perfectly fine. It was only a nightmare. We’re together, Ez….we’re safe,” you coo softly before wrapping your arms securely around his shoulders and nuzzling his neck just as he likes. “Feel this? You’re here, safe in my arms…” You softly kiss his cheek before gently kissing his lips, lingering until you feel him start to relax against you and feel his arms wind around your waist to pull you closer.

Once you pull back, you again rest your forehead against his and look him in the eye. As you feel him stop shaking, you peck his lips another time. When you eventually move one of your hands back up to his cheek, he eagerly leans into your touch. You tenderly whisper, “That’s it, Ez….back with me now?”

He sighs deeply and nods, closing his eyes and just letting his forehead rest against yours. His breathing slowly regulates and one of his hands comes up to cover the one you placed on his cheek. “Thank god…it was just a nightmare…or a memory, I suppose,” he murmurs so softly you barely hear it.

“I wonder when you go if I stay on your mind.”

You trace along his jaw lightly with your thumb as you softly inquire, “A memory?” You think for a moment. “Ez, I’m not going to make you tell me anything you don’t want to. But, may I ask some general yes or no questions so I can understand what’s going on? You don’t even have to verbally respond, you can just nod or shake your head if that’s easier. You may also stop me at any time, no questions asked.”

He laces his other hand with yours and nods, giving your fingers a squeeze.

You gently squeeze back. “Thank you for trusting me, baby,” you murmur. “To start, you said this is a memory, so this is something you saw?”

He nods and squeezes your fingers before whispering, “Yes. On my most recent expedition. The one I just returned from.”

You gently lay down, silently directing him to lay on your chest, melting as he rests his head where he can hear your heartbeat. Once he’s comfortable, you get back into your line of questioning.

“I see. Was this the trap you didn’t want to discuss at dinner, and the thing that happened that you didn’t want to talk about this morning?” Your voice is soft but your curiosity is unmistakable.

He squeezes your hand tightly and nods. You softly reach down and cup his jaw, melting even more as he closes his eyes, turns his head, and nuzzles your palm.

“Ezreal, did…did you see m-me being tortured when you were in the Tomb of the Fallen Lovers? Was that the trap?” you ask hesitantly. Based on what you heard him say during his nightmare, and hearing what he's told you so far, you can't imagine what else it would be.

He stiffens again and nods, looking up at you with a haunted expression similar to the one he wore when he wasn’t quite fully awake from his nightmare. Once he starts speaking, he whispers so softly you barely hear him, but his whisper is thick with emotion, “(Y/N)…I saw you being tortured and killed. I heard your screams and sobs as they hurt you. I saw you look at me with terror in your eyes as you cried out for me, desperately begging me to save you, to stop the pain. My very soul felt like it was being ripped apart every time I heard you say my name in such pain, in such fear. It was fucking unbearable, (Y/N). It was as if my deepest nightmare had come to life. I was going insane. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t get to you. I could do nothing to help you…and then…I-I couldn’t save you in time. I’d never felt so helpless or useless in my life. I believed I failed to keep you alive, (Y/N). That very nearly broke me…completely. What good is my magic, what good am I, if I can’t protect or save those I care for most?”

You look back at him with wide eyes, your heart breaking at the distress creeping back into his voice.

He pauses for a moment to take a shaky breath. “The only thing that snapped me out of it was remembering the rest of the original story. How it was just a cruel illusion on the king and that the queen was really unharmed. That made me remember that you were still here in Piltover, that you hadn’t come with me to Shurima so it made no sense for your captors to have you. That’s what finally made the illusion and trap fall apart. But, fuck it was so realistic…” his voice finally breaks and you feel warm tears gently drip onto your bare chest as his breathing gets unsteady and he again starts to tremble.

You move your hand up to gently wipe away his tears again. Your voice is gentle and tender as you murmur to him, “Shhh, oh baby. Oh my god…oh Ezreal…” you’re struggling not to let emotion overwhelm you too. “No wonder you didn’t want to talk about it. I’m sure Hoskel’s question and the discussion at dinner had something to do with the memory reappearing in your nightmares. Your strength astounds me, Ez. I’d never want to relive that either if I were in your shoes and I’d seen realistic illusions of you being h-hurt or w-worse. Seeing that happen to you…even if it just turned out to be a t-terrifying illusion…God, Ez, it would completely r-ruin me.” You can’t help but let out a shudder as the horrific thought goes through your mind.

His voice sounds softly, “I also knew if I mentioned that trap they’d ask who I saw in there. You know how nosy that group is. And I didn’t want you finding out I saw you in there at the same time as other people, not when it’s none of their damn business. I wanted to tell you myself, in private. You deserved to hear it from me in private. That’s not the type of news to surprise someone with in public. I respect you too much and you’re too important to me.”

You gently shift down the bed so you can better cuddle him. He immediately nuzzles your neck, allowing you access to kiss his temple. “I’m very glad you told me in private, Ezreal. We’ll need to talk about this more later, because I’m sure it means something important that I can’t comprehend at…” you peek at his clock, “…3:26 in the morning. But for now, let’s table this extremely distressing topic and just focus on trying to get back to sleep. What else can I do to help you right at this moment to help you relax? Would you like some tea? Warm sweetmilk? Water?” You ask softly, playing with his hair.

He thinks for a moment before looking up at you and murmuring, “Warm sweetmilk doesn’t sound bad right now. Can I come with you to make it? I think getting out of bed for a bit would be helpful.”

You nod and trace his lips with your fingertips as you utter a simple, “Of course, Ez…”

You blush as he gently grabs your hand and places a kiss to the inside of your wrist before he gets out of bed and pulls on a shirt and boxers. He tosses you another one of his shirts and then the neatly folded underwear of the lacy purple set so you can also get dressed.

Once you are ready, he offers his hand, giving you a shaky smile as you lace your fingers with his and give his hand a squeeze before letting him lead you into the rest of the dark house.

Despite the darkness and many stairs, thanks to Ez’s guidance, you never feel unsteady or unsure of your step. As the two of you move quietly, you can’t help but silently ponder everything you’ve seen and heard tonight. Why would he see me in the trap? I-is this why he’s been so very sweet lately? It’s overwhelming to think about, especially considering the thoughts you had earlier at the party. As well, for your own sanity, you don’t want to consider how very close you might have come to losing Ez. After calming him, the last thing you want to do is work yourself into a panic. You push those troubling thoughts to the side and move back to the present to focus on making both of you some much-needed warm sweetmilk.

He easily guides you to the kitchens, grabbing a couple mugs while you grab a pot and a cold bottle of milk. The two of you meet back at the stove and you’re relieved to see how he’s already far more relaxed than when he woke up. You pour the milk into a pot and add some sugar, anise, and a couple dashes of cinnamon while Ez easily gets the stove going. You grab a wooden spoon and carefully place the pot over the heated grate. As the milk heats to a simmer, you stir occasionally, keeping a close eye on things and getting lost in the routine of the recipe.

“You’re quite good at that, it seems,” a low voice murmurs by your ear as Ezreal wraps his arms around you from behind and sleepily nuzzles the junction of your neck and shoulder. He lays feather soft kisses there, making you sigh softly and tilt your head a little so he has more access.

“I happen to be a sweetmilk enjoyer when I can’t get to sleep, which is unfortunately more common than I'd care to admit. Are you trying to distract me? You’ll make me scald the milk, Ez,” you voice, mock offense coloring your tone.

You shiver as you hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers, “Would you rather I stop, Angel?”

You’re infinitely glad your teasing Ezreal is back after everything he saw in his mind, even if he’s making it much harder to focus on stirring the milk. “I mean my answer is no, baby, but, since I’m mianly making this for you, maybe you can wait until we’re back upstairs and not dealing with appliances that involve heat. You’re well aware of my clumsiness.” you tease right back.

Ez lets out an exaggerated sigh. “Fine….we can be sensible,” he grumbles, though you can hear the smile he’s trying to hide.

You turn your head slightly and grin, saying, “Out of the two of us, that tends to be my role, yes. The sensible one. You’re the bad influence who managed to corrupt me a little bit. But I’m not really complaining. Being a goody-two-shoes all the time was so stressful.” You finish your point by turning your head a little bit more and kissing his cheek.

“What a pair we make.” This time he definitely can’t hide the smirk on his face.

You laugh as you finish heating the milk, straining out the larger spices as you carefully pour the liquid into the two mugs he brought over. “Hopefully you like it. There are a million different ways to make warm sweet milk, but this happens to be the way I was taught by my mom,” you say as you hand his mug to him and pick up your own.

“Cheers!” You hold your mug up and smile as he gently clinks his against yours before both of you take a first sip.

“Oh fuck,” he sighs happily, his fond gaze finding you. “That’s so good….that is exactly what I needed. Thank you, (Y/N).”

You smile back at him. “Happy to help, Ez. Always.”

You turn off the stove and put the small pot you used into the sink to be washed later. After you return to him and grab your mug, you take his free hand and lead him back upstairs.

Back in his room, you hand Ezreal your mug so you can climb into bed first, sitting up against the pillows. You then take both mugs as he climbs in and settles next to you. Once you give him back his mug, you wrap your free arm around his back, gently cuddling him.

“Now that we have my second favorite sleep aid, how do you feel?” you ask as he lays his head on your shoulder.

He smiles. “Much better. And cuddles certainly don’t hurt either,” he admits shyly. “But back it up a bit. So sweet milk is your second favorite sleep aid. What’s your first?” He asks curiously, popping his head up and adjusting his position so he can look at you.

You can’t help but blush and let out a giggle before smirking widely at him. “It’s you, Ez. I sleep really well when we’re together. You’re number one because your methods definitely make me feel the…well...best,” you confess, unable to keep from giggling some more when you see surprised, wicked delight flash in his eyes as he starts smirking back at you.

“Well well well,” he murmurs. He gives you a mock bow as best he can in his current position as he leans towards you. “Happy to be of service, my princess,” he whispers playfully into your ear before capturing your lips in another deep kiss that you’re helpless to resist.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! This chapter was really interesting and fun to write. Like obviously Ezreal comes off as so confident and arrogant almost always, but the man has likely seen some shit in his travels and I wanted to explore that a little. Also I am a SUCKER for a good FWB gone wrong story. It's looking like Chapter 3 will be the last chapter of this particular fic, but I'm enjoying this "universe" so don't be surprised if there is a future one-shot based in it lmao.

#ezreal #ezreal fic #ezreal x reader #reader insert #ezreal fluff #ezreal smut #ezreal angst #league of legends #league fanfic

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