#sim tag

“What do you need me to do?” he asked patiently. While he waited for her response, he took out his phone and sent a quick text to Cassian to let him know that Gwyn was safe and sound.

“Wipes,” she said, giggling before sitting down on the toilet with a painful-sounding thump. Azriel grabbed her by the arms to stop her from falling in — she hadn’t put the toilet cover down — and lifted her, adjusted the seat, and let her sit down again.

“Careful,” he said. She pouted before pointing out a pack of makeup remover wipes and he realized what she wanted him to do.

He did his best to be gentle as he wiped the remnants of her makeup away, revealing the familiar freckles he liked so much. She giggled the entire time and only stopped when he had to wipe her lipstick away.

“Did you get it all?” Gwyn asked. She tried to stand to check in the mirror but he put a hand on her shoulder to keep her place, knowing that if she got up now she’d definitely run somewhere else in her apartment.

“I did my best,” he replied. He looked down at her and couldn’t help but crack a small smile at how adorable she looked. “Are you going to keep that dress on?”

She looked down at the tight navy dress she was wearing before looking back up at him, a devious glint in her eye. “I need my pajamas!”

Gwyn pushed herself off the toilet and made a run for her closet, barely avoiding slamming into her closed bedroom door. She gave one last look at Azriel before she managed to get in and started bumping around her room.

He sighed deeply before following her and made sure to turn on the light so she could actually see. Her room was filled with books and sheet music, with a keyboard in one corner and a small ukulele on her nightstand. He could hear her opening and shutting drawers in her closet and decided to wait for her to finish, hoping she could manage getting undressed on her own.

That hope was short lived, because she was calling out for him within thirty seconds. “Azriel! I need help!”

He counted to five in an attempt to calm his rapidly beating heart before he made his way into her closet. When he opened the door he saw she already had on Mickey Mouse pajama pants and was just struggling to get her dress over her head.

His throat went dry as he realized how much of her skin he could still see — her stomach, her back, her chest. Thankfully she had on a bra, but it was his favorite color and he knew he’d be thinking about this for at least the rest of the night.

“Help — me — take — this — off,” Gwyn said, panting as she struggled with her dress.

“Hold still,” Azriel replied. He reached out to help her maneuver out of the tight dress, both of them struggling to lift it over her head. At one point she even started jumping to try and get it off, and he apologized every time she made even the slightest noise of frustration.

After almost two minutes, they managed to get it off. Her face was flushed and her hair was incredibly frizzy, but it was off.

“Thank you so much,” she said. She swayed on her feet and he reached out to steady her, but then he remembered she was just in her bra; he pulled his hand away faster than he could blink.

“You’re welcome,” he said quickly. He turned around and walked out of her closet, leaned on the nearest bedroom wall, and debated the merits of banging his head against it.

Gwyneth Berdara was truly going to be the death of him.

After another minute she emerged fully dressed in pajamas with her hair looking slightly less frizzy. She grinned wildly at him before throwing herself facedown onto her bed.

“Can you tuck me in?” she asked, her voice muffled against her pillow.

“Uh…” he trailed off. Of all the things he’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been this. But she was so cute there was no way he was going to say no. “Sure.”

He walked over to her bed and reached for her comforter, the material soft in his hands. She sighed contentedly when he pulled it over her body and turned her head to face him.

“Good night, Gwyn,” he said. He resisted the urge to kiss her on the forehead and smooth down her fiery hair.

“Good night, Azriel,” she replied, giggling again. He made to walk away when she spoke again. “I don’t get a goodnight kiss?”

“You’re drunk,” he said, but he leaned down and gave her that forehead kiss he’d thought about only a few moments ago. Her skin was soft and warm underneath his and she pouted as he pulled away.

“I want a real kiss,” she whined. She turned onto her side and tried to grab his shirt with her now-freed arms but he leaned away.

“You’re drunk,” he repeated. He wanted to kiss her more than anything, but he wouldn’t do it like this. “Ask me when you’re not out of your mind.”

“Would you say yes?” she asked, biting her lip.

“Maybe,” he replied. He patted her on the head before actually starting to walk away, knowing if he didn’t leave now she’d try to rope him into any number of shenanigans.