Can i request something where reader finds rauru's sharp toothed smile adorable and not at all offputting. I imagine that dragon teef probably would be a little intimidating
oh, anon, bless your big beautiful brain
the sweet ache settles (rauru x gender neutral!reader, tears of the kingdom/totk)
You’ve taken notice of them before, of course. It was impossible not to, displayed as readily as they were whenever Rauru smiled or laughed.
Some shrunk beneath the sight of them, quailing at their length and sharp edges. They were certainly intimidating, especially when bared in a snarl at an enemy of the kingdom, and yet you felt little fear whenever they were bared to your gaze.
Far from it, actually.
Rauru is speaking, fingers curled delicately around his tea cup, and while you know you should be listening, you’re driven to distraction by the glimpse of teeth afforded to you each time his lips lift or purse around his words.
The King of Hyrule as a whole serves as quite the distraction, you think with a wry grin, feeling warmth suffuse your cheeks as his eye catches yours. Eloquent, fierce, and desperately kind, you had found yourself growing more and more flustered in his presence, your thoughts lingering on the Zonai long after you had parted ways, and your anticipation growing for your next encounter with the King.
Foolish, you chide yourself, but your heart is a beast with a will of its own, and it quakes as the King huffs a soft laugh, teeth bared for a moment in joy.
“What distracts you so?” he questions, great ears twitching as he regards you curiously.
“My apologies, your Majesty,” you hurry to assuage him, only to trail off in flustered silence as he smiles anew, the edge of a fang peeking through his lips. Your pulse thuds at the base of your throat.
“Rauru,” he reminds you, his voice a gentle timbre rumbling down the length of your spine. His fingers curl against the tabletop, bare inches from your own, and even the presence of his guards fails to curtail the pressing, aching need to close the gap between you.
“Rauru,” you murmur, the syllables sparking on your tongue and filling your chest with warmth. He gives you far too many liberties, your King, but you can’t deny the joy they bring you. The joy his regard brings you, always.
And oh, how he’s regarding you now, eyes heavy-lidded and lips parted, his sharp teeth catching the light of the setting sun. Soon, the garden would fill with dusk and the soft flickering of fireflies, and the King would guide you to your room with a lithe, powerful arm curled through yours, the length of his body tucked against your own, and suffusing you with warmth.
“Tell me,” he urges you, and this time - as it so often is - it is the King who dares to bridge the gap between your fingers, his own twining through yours with all the grace and fluidity of the monarch who wields them.
“What is it you wish to know?” His nails graze your skin, a gentle sting, and your lashes flutter. You would tell him anything, if only he kept touching you.
“You have been distracted of late.” Of course he’s noticed. You had worn your thoughts like a badge on your sleeve for all to see, if only they knew where to look. “What occupies your thoughts? What sets that look upon your face?”
You knew well what look he spoke of, had felt it steal across your face each time he glanced your way, stole his fingers across the pulse at your wrist, flashed a glimpse of that sharp-toothed grin.
Your eyes are drawn to it, even now, and this time, Rauru takes notice.
“Do they frighten you?” he murmurs, his nail brushing gently against your knuckles. A breeze fills the garden with the warmth of late spring, and plays through the riot of Rauru’s silver hair like a lover’s caress. “You would not be the first, I am afraid.”
“I find them quite pleasing, actually - “ The words take but a moment to register in your brain, yet even then, you can’t regret their impulsivity. Not when Rauru’s eyes are widening, his fingers twitching against yours. Atop his head, his long ears perk, gems swaying in the breeze - searching, perhaps, for the truth in your words.
Does he doubt your claim, then? Surely not, not with the wealth of evidence at his disposal, your heart all but thrust into his hands and waiting to be plucked.
You draw on a store of bravery you did not know you possessed, and uncurl your fingers from your cooling tea to curl them about Rauru’s jaw, blunt nails dragging through the slate-colored fur there.
The King draws short, breath a warm huff against your inner wrist. Your thumb drags along his lip and his ears twitch violently, as though caught in a storm. His mouth parts. His eyes grow wide, and then dark.
The sharp edge of his fang pricks against your thumb, sinking into the meat of it, and you both suck in a ragged gasp.
Around you, the fireflies emerge.
“No, Rauru,” you murmur, your voice like gravel, your heart afire, and your body consumed with a desperate, longing ache. The soft glow of the fireflies alights upon the King’s hair, his face, the sweet curl of his lips and the sharpness of his dragon’s smile, and you bestow upon him a grin of your own. “I am not afraid.”
