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eclipixels · 2 days ago

Text

Payback

Sylus x reader

Content: You don't like Sylus allowing other girls to flirt with him, so you take matters into your own hands to get back at him

A/N: pt.1 pt.2

[2,911 words]

You sat with Sylus at the bar, your head resting against his shoulder, the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses filling the air around you. The two of you had arrived earlier than most, and now, as you watched the slow trickle of people filtering in, you couldn’t help but think that maybe Sylus had been right, you should have waited a little longer before coming.

With a soft sigh, you sat up, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. "I’m gonna go use the bathroom, okay?" you murmured, your fingers lightly squeezing his arm before you slipped away toward the restroom.

The momentary break was meant to be nothing, just a quick trip before returning to his side. But when you emerged, your heart nearly stopped.

A woman stood dangerously close to him, tilting her head in that familiar, flirtatious way as she batted her lashes. The dim lighting of the bar only made the moment more intimate, more insufferable. Then, as if to twist the knife deeper, she leaned in, her lips close to his ear as she whispered something you weren’t meant to hear, something that sent a searing pang of jealousy straight through you.

Did you really believe him when he told you that you were the only woman he wanted? That he never entertained temptation? That he never strayed, even when countless women threw themselves at him?

You wanted to believe him. You truly did. But watching this unfold, watching him stand there and allow her to linger, to bask in his presence without a single sign of dismissal—it gnawed at you. It didn’t matter if he wasn’t flirting back or even paying her much attention. The fact that he didn’t push her away, that he allowed these moments to exist at all, was what truly got under your skin.

And who could blame her for being drawn to him? Sylus looked effortlessly breathtaking in his tailored black Versace suit, the sleek fabric clinging to him in all the right ways. He exuded confidence, mystery, an untouchable charm that made heads turn the moment he stepped into a room. If you were in her position, wouldn’t you want a man like him to look at you the way you wished he only looked at you?

But why? Why couldn’t he make it clear that he was unavailable, that there was no room for anyone else in his orbit? The questions burned in your mind, threatening to spill over into words you weren’t sure you were ready to say aloud.

Because no matter how much you trusted him, doubt had a way of creeping in like a shadow in the night. And right now, standing there, watching her linger in his space… that shadow felt all-consuming.

"You okay?" a voice pulled you from your thoughts, and you turned to find yourself looking at some guy. Tall, effortlessly good-looking, with a broody, mysterious air that made him stand out.

"I'm completely awesome. Just having the time of my life," you replied with a smirk, the sarcasm practically dripping from your words. "I mean, you agree, right? I am awesome. You know what? Don't even answer that."

He gave you a small smile, the kind that was just barely there but still managed to be annoyingly charming. "As much as I’ve heard about you, you're more than just awesome."

Your drunken mind barely registered the comment or who exactly had been talking about you. But if he had heard things, well, hopefully, they were good things. He had this whole mysterious, darkly intriguing vibe, and if you weren’t so hopelessly in love with Sylus, maybe—just maybe—something could have happened.

"Do you wanna dance?" you asked impulsively, tilting your head at him.

His eyes widened slightly, as if the question had caught him off guard. "I don't think that would be appropriate," he said, his voice polite yet firm.

Seriously, what was it with men not wanting to dance with you today? You were an amazing dancer.

"And why exactly wouldn't it be appropriate?" you teased, grabbing his arm before he could protest and pulling him toward the dance floor. Not that you were trying to make Sylus jealous or anything. But, you know, if it happened organically, you wouldn’t be opposed.

"Just relax. It's just a dance," you grinned, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him a little closer. You giggled as he let out a small breath, clearly debating whether to just go with it or keep resisting.

Then, as if the universe had a twisted sense of humor, the music shifted into something slow and romantic, one of those songs you'd never heard before but could already tell was meant for lovers lost in each other’s arms.

Perfect. Just perfect.

You didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to see if that woman was still talking to Sylus.

"You know," your dance partner said after a moment, "I learned how to waltz once. It’s been a few years, though."

You chuckled, tilting your head at him. "Oh yeah? Think you still got it?"

He smirked slightly. "Guess we’re about to find out."

For a fleeting second, you felt Sylus’s gaze burning into you from across the room. You could almost hear the unspoken words in his stare. But you ignored it. To hell with him.

The two of you danced so flawlessly, so effortlessly, that the energy in the room shifted. People took notice. Whispers spread, eyes turned. But you didn’t care. For the first time tonight, you were simply having fun.

Then, with a fluid motion, he twirled you around, sending a rush of exhilaration through your veins before pulling you back into his arms. And finally, the grand finish—a dip, deep and dramatic. The moment lingered as you locked eyes with him, your breath slightly ragged from the movement.

A slow smile spread across your face as you straightened up. “I’ve always wanted to do that,” you admitted, a soft laugh escaping your lips.

"I'm glad I could make that happen," he replied, his own smile warm and genuine.

Before you could say anything else, the sound of clapping caught your attention. You turned to see Wanda and Tara grinning at you, their faces full of approval and amusement.

“You were amazing!” Tara cheered, her excitement practically radiating off her.

Your dance partner chuckled, then took a small step back. “You should go join your friends,” he said, his voice quieter now, almost hesitant. “Besides, I wouldn’t want any trouble for you.”

And just like that, he turned to leave.

A frown crept onto your face. His words confused you. What kind of trouble? He was fun to be around, easy to talk to. You had a feeling that if nothing else, the two of you could have been good friends. But he was gone before you could ask.

The thrill of dancing, the lightness of the moment—it all started to fade as the weight of reality crashed back down. For a little while, the music, the movement, the laughter had made you forget. Forget about Sylus. Forget about the ache in your chest.

But now? Now, it all came rushing back.

You forced a smile as you said goodnight to Tara and your other hunter friends. They wanted you to stay, to shake off the sadness, but you were drained. Completely and utterly exhausted.

All you wanted was to be alone. To cry in peace.

And you didn’t care how you got home.

Stepping outside, the cool night air did little to soothe the fire burning inside you. But as if the universe hadn’t tormented you enough tonight, there he was—Sylus, leaning against his motorcycle, waiting.

The last person you wanted to see right now.

At least he wasn’t with her.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, voice sharper than intended.

At the sound of your voice, he turned his head, his expression unreadable—until his eyes met yours. Then, just like that, his gaze hardened.

"The real question is, what the hell were you doing in there? With that guy?" His tone was sharp, laced with something that almost sounded like jealousy.

God. The sheer audacity.

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "It's called dancing, Sylus. You know, that thing people do when they're having fun?" You crossed your arms, eyes narrowing. "And honestly? The hypocrisy is commendable. Really."

His brows furrowed. "The hypocrisy? What’s gotten into you, Y/N?"

Maybe it was the drinks. Maybe it was the adrenaline crashing. Maybe it was the way your heart still ached from watching him with her. But something inside you cracked.

"You know what? You’re right. I knew what I was getting into with you," you admitted, voice shaking, "but I can’t do it anymore."

His expression faltered for the first time, but you didn’t let him speak.

"Is this even a relationship to you, Sylus? Or am I just someone you’re fooling around with until you get bored?" The words came out harsher than you expected, but you didn’t care.

For a moment, silence hung between you like a storm waiting to break.

Then, something in his face changed. The sharpness faded, replaced with something else, something you couldn’t quite place.

Hurt?

"Is that what you really think of me?" he asked, voice quieter now, almost disbelieving. "Of us?"

You swallowed hard, but he didn’t stop.

"Is that what you think I’m doing?" He took a step forward, his usual cocky demeanor nowhere to be seen. "Just stringing you along until I get bored?"

The way he said it made your chest tighten, but you wouldn’t let him turn this around on you.

You stepped back, refusing to let your resolve waver.

"That’s how you made me feel today, Sylus," you snapped, your voice trembling with the weight of everything you had held in. "You made me feel used. You made me feel small—like I was nothing compared to her. Like she mattered to you, and I didn’t."

Your lips quivered as you tried to hold back the lump forming in your throat, but the words wouldn’t stop now.

"You can’t let the most gorgeous woman in the room flirt with you, throw it in my face, and then expect me to just stand there and not care," you choked out, barely recognizing your own voice—raw, broken, angry.

Sylus exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. He wasn’t trying to hurt you. You knew that. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. And maybe he hadn’t been ready for this confrontation, but neither were you—you hadn’t asked for this heartbreak.

"She means nothing to me, Y/N," he said, his voice quieter now. "And she wasn’t the most gorgeous woman in the room."

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. "Yeah? That’s funny, considering how easily you let her hang all over you."

His jaw tightened. "Don’t use that tone with me, Y/N."

And that—that—set you off completely.

"Fuck off, Sylus," you spat, stepping back, fire burning behind your eyes. "You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to act jealous then get mad when I get the same way."

As soon as the words left your mouth, Sylus closed the distance between you in an instant, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was rough, desperate, and possessive. He had heard enough. He couldn’t lose you like this. He wouldn’t let it happen.

You wanted to fight back, wanted to push him away, wanted to scream at him for how much he had hurt you tonight—but you didn’t. Instead, you gave in. You kissed him back with just as much fire, all the jealousy, anger, and pain pouring into the way your lips moved against his. You wanted to rip his hair out, but at the same time, you wanted to fuck him senseless.

His hands gripped your waist as he lifted you effortlessly, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him. He walked forward until your back hit the wall, trapping you between the cool surface and the warmth of his body. A sharp gasp left your lips as he tangled his fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, exposing your neck to him. His mouth was on you in an instant, lips and teeth marking you, sucking deep enough to leave bruises. His marks.

He wasn’t the only jealous one tonight.

Watching you dance, hearing you laugh so freely with that guy—it had made something primal snap inside him. He wanted to be the one spinning you around, holding you in his arms, making you smile like that. He wanted to be the man who made you happy.

His hands slid under your dress, gripping your ass roughly as he pressed his hips forward, grinding against you. You gasped at the friction, a moan slipping from your lips as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, rolling your hips against his, desperate for something to ease the ache between your legs. You were frustrated, upset, and so fucking turned on all at once.

Then, before you could stop it, a single tear slipped down your cheek.

Sylus stilled.

He heard the soft, broken sob escape your lips, and his chest tightened. His hands, which had been gripping you so possessively just moments ago, suddenly softened their hold. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours as his breathing evened out.

His thumb brushed the tear from your cheek before he pressed a tender kiss there, his lips lingering. And then, slowly, he set you back down onto your feet.

The loss of contact made you shiver, but you weren’t ready for this moment to end—not like this.

“I'm so absolutely sorry for how I made you feel tonight.”

“I just wish you would push those women away, why don’t you do that?” Your lips quivered. His heart broke, how could he make you feel this way? He was mad at himself.

“I didn’t think it mattered. I thought you already knew I loved you.” He admits, feeling stupid for not realizing sooner how much it hurt you.

“Still, it hurts seeing them flirt with you and you do nothing.”

“I am sincerely sorry my love, I promise, I won’t let it happen anymore.” He closes the distance between you two. He wraps his arms around you tightly "you're my weakness y/n, I never wanted to have one but then you came along.”

“You’re mine, okay?” You say firmly.

"I am yours. So beautiful you are, the prettiest. I love the dress princess" he kisses your forehead

"Thank you love, I got it in your color" you smile.

"I know but It would look better on the floor” He grins wickedly. Oh my god, you really are stuck with him now.

“Don’t think I’m forgiving you that easily, though,” you said, your voice firm, your expression stern.

Sylus paused, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features, but he masked it quickly. “What do I have to do?”

You took a step closer to him, a sly smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Beg.”

His brows furrowed, and he blinked, clearly caught off guard. “What? You can’t be serious.”

You leaned in, your gaze locking with his, a challenge in your eyes. “You heard me. On your knees. Beg me to forgive you.”

His lips parted, but he didn’t immediately comply. “Y/n–”

Before he could say anything else, you shoved him gently but firmly, guiding him to the ground. The sudden action had his breath hitching, but he quickly found his footing, settling on his knees in front of you. He looked up at you, his gaze filled with something between defiance and desperation.

His thighs flexed as he kneaded his jaw, eyes narrowing in thought. Then, he finally spoke, his voice low and sincere. “Please forgive me, darling. I am so fucking sorry.”

You raised an eyebrow, not satisfied with the apology.

Sylus let out a soft groan, his hands resting on his thighs, looking up at you with a vulnerability that made your chest tighten. “I’m so, so sorry.” His voice dropped an octave, heavy with regret.

And still, something in you wanted more.

The sincerity in his eyes pulled at something deep inside you, but you weren’t ready to let him off that easy. "I want to hear you say it. I want to hear how much I mean to you. I want to know that you won't let this happen again."

His breath hitched as his hands moved to the floor for support, his body leaning slightly toward you as if instinctively reaching for you, aching for you. “I won’t let it happen again, I swear to you. I won’t make the same mistake. Please, Y/n, forgive me. I can’t lose you. You mean everything to me.”

You could see the desperation in his eyes now, the plea for you to believe him.

"That’s better," you said, nodding slowly. "But words are just that. Show me."

He lowered his gaze for a moment, then looked back up at you, his posture shifting as if he was preparing to give you all of him. And he did just that, all night long. You drained the life out of him, not stopping until you were satisfied.

#sylus #sylus x reader #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x mc #sylus love and deepspace #lads sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus qin #love and deepspace #lnds #l&ds

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lifeasadorkwithnolife · 2 days ago

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Monster (Azriel X Reader)

Word Count: 4700

Summary: Everyone thinks that Y/N is a horrible person for what she did under the mountain, and she agrees, but Azriel realizes that things aren't what they seem.

I have not wrote any fanfiction in 5 years, which is absolutely crazy. I've been talking to my boyfriend a lot about story ideas and he asked me, why don't you just write it down? So here it is, it's not exactly what I used to write.

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You had hoped you would die under the caldron-forsaken mountain. The 49 years have cost you everything: your family, your court and your humanity. Amarantha had chosen you to be her right hand, you had no one to lose and everything to gain. You became known as Amarantha’s bitch, arguably a worse title than Rhysand’s. Your job was to keep discipline under the mountain and frequently had to whip and grant Amarantha’s wishes of public torture sessions when the Attor was not around.

Your reputation had made it outside of the mountain and throughout the courts, you were known to be ruthless and would kill without hesitation. You were an absolute monster.

Before Feyre had come along and saved you all from the mountain, the only one who understood your pain was Rhysand. For the first few years of your position, Rhysand would look at you with hatred in his eyes. He tortured people too, but you knew he didn’t enjoy it in the same way you pretended to. Every time you tortured the poor soul who got on Amarantha’s nerves, you would go up to them after the fact and hold their hand and ask if they had learned their lesson.

You had a gift and a curse, your gift was the ability to absorb pain from someone else, but the curse was that pain demanded to be felt eventually. Every whipping, every burn, or every cut that you performed, you took it from them to feel later. You kept this secret to yourself originally, but it’s quite hard to hide things from Rhysand.

On one unfortunate night, he entered your chambers under the mountain and witnessed the blood beginning to pool on your back. “Someone give you a taste of your own medicine?” He smirked, leaning against the door frame.

“Get the fuck out, Rhysand.” You croaked, mouth dry as you felt another blow to your back from the whipping earlier. “If I wanted to sleep with someone, it wouldn’t be Amarantha’s seconds.” You could feel the walls you built to protect yourself from Rhysand crumbling, like they were nothing but paper, and his eyes grew in realization.

He walked over to you and placed your face in his hands, his eyes growing wide with understanding. “You don’t have to bear their pain alone, Y/N.” He whispered, but you shook your head.

“Please go away.” You whispered, tears filling your eyes. Nobody had ever seen you like this under the mountain, “I can handle it, really.”

You felt the next blow and cried out, Rhysand caught you in his arms and held you. You felt him in your mind, and then your physical pain was gone, and it was just you both in your head. He was right there, in front of you, and all you could do was sigh. “I can explain.”

“Are you…. Are you taking their pain?” He whispered, and you nodded. “Why?”

“We’re all trapped here.” You replied, your voice echoing across the black void. “Someone will hurt them either way, at least if I hurt them… I can take their pain away and they can pass peacefully.”

“How long have you been doing this?” Rhys asked, and you shrugged. “I could have helped you, we’re on the same side.”

“It’s my pain to bear, I wouldn’t have agreed to this job if I couldn’t take their pain away.” You whispered back, he nodded in understanding.

From then on, you had one friend under the mountain, and when Feyre became part of the picture, you had two.

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When Feyre won the trials and you were released from the mountain, you realized that you had nowhere to go. Your court has disowned you and your family was…gone. Rhysand invited you back to Velaris to the dismay of his inner circle, and he agreed that your gift would remain a secret until you were ready.

You trained as hard as you could and tried your best time and time again to win over the inner circle. You promised yourself you would tell them about your gift eventually but couldn’t bring yourself to do it, feeling like you would be using it as an “excuse” to torture others and end all the lives you did, when it was really inexcusable.

The member of the inner circle that hated you the most was Azriel, he would immediately leave any room you entered, refuse to go on missions with you and would even stop training as soon as you were in earshot. You could sense him staring at you from afar sometimes, and whenever you would look it would be anger, hatred and maybe a little confusion in his eyes.

You tried your best to make friends with everyone, but it’s hard to be friends with a sadistic murderer who laughed as they were killing the weak and defenseless. The only people who gave you a chance were Cassian and Feyre, and you couldn’t be more appreciative.

One night, during one of your nightmares, you awoke to large hands shaking you awake and came face to face with Cassian. He looked at you in concern and placed a hand around your head in a brotherly, comforting way. Tears flowed down your face. “You were shouting your own name, what were you dreaming about?”

“Cassian, do you think I can be forgiven for what I’ve done?” You whispered, looking up at him. He hesitated, then nodded slowly. “I need to tell you the truth.”

Cassian was the first person you willingly told your story to, and he looked absolutely horrified. You showed him the scars on your back and told him about the worst things you have ever done. He comforted you for hours, and in return told you his stories about how he’s killed and how guilty he feels about it sometimes.

It was nice having Cassian after that point, you two would spar, but you still couldn’t bring yourself to throw a punch when he was open. His laughter was a wonderful sound, and he would often catch you staring at Azriel- longing for his forgiveness but knowing that would most likely never happen. You knew he didn’t trust you, and you don’t think he ever would.

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“I need you two to go on a mission together.” Rhys explains, looking between you and Azriel. “I don’t care about how much you don’t like each other; this needs to be done. The attor was sighted on our border, and I need him found.”

You took a quick look at Azriel before turning away, his hands were clenched into fists, and his shadows were swarming around angrily. “I can go by myself just fine.” Azriel snapped, “She’ll just slow me down and you know it.”

“I need you BOTH to go, which is why Y/N is here.” Rhysand clasped his hands together, looking at you expectantly. “I think she will be helpful in this mission, since the attor is involved.”

“I am familiar with the attor.” You sighed, peeking over at Azriel. “I may be able to lure him out.”

“I bet he’s very fond of you,” Azriel turned to look at you, “I bet you killed more people than he did, did you guys keep count like a competition?”

You stepped back, you had barely spoken to Azriel, but these were his first words with you. Every reassurance that Cassian, Feyre and Rhys had ever provided seemed to disappear.

“I just don’t understand Rhys, why is she here? The rest of us have killed, sure, but for good reason. She is a monster.” Azriel’s shadows circled the room, and you could feel the hatred coming off him in waves.

‘You’re not going to defend yourself?’ Rhys asked you, and you gave your head a slight shake.

“This is the last I’m hearing of it, Azriel, you better bring her back here in one piece or so help me.”

After 3 cold days of searching for the Attor, he was nowhere to be found, and Azriel’s snide comments were getting on your nerves. The flight back to Velaris was cold and silent.

“Hey, I’m sorry that we came all this way and didn’t catch him.” You whispered, staring down at the darkening landscape.

“I just hoped that you would be useful for something.” He replied, not even looking in your direction. You sighed, your heart plummeting to your stomach. You had hoped, on some deluded level, that this trip would allow you to talk to him and explain yourself and maybe- just maybe- he wouldn’t hate you so much anymore.

“I just wanted to say sorry- not just for the attor but for everything.” He looked down at you, and you couldn’t tell what expression was on his face. “I’m just- I’m trying to be better than I was under the mountain, the person I was then is not me. I hope you can believe that.”

He nodded, looking back up at the setting sun. “I believe that you want to be better.” He said solemnly, “But if what everyone is saying is true, then there is no hope for you. You will never change, even if Rhysand and Cassian don’t see it yet.”

You couldn’t even bring yourself to nod, you felt the cold tears sting your eyes but tried to blink them away before they could fall. Azriel saw you for who you really were, the murderer. At least he won’t lie to you like everyone else has.

The silence ticked by when all the sudden, an arrow flew by your head and hit Azriels wing with a sharp crack. He grunted in pain and dropped a couple feet; another 2 arrows swished by and tore through his other wing. “Azriel- land!” You shouted, searching the darkened forest floor for any sign of the attackers.

“No shit Y/N.” Azriel shouted, his wings pumping as the ground came in closer. You felt Azriel turn to the side as another arrow whizzed towards your head, but he took another arrow to the wing. Did he just…protect you? You two landed on the ground in a heap, but you stood up quickly, knife in hand as you searched the darkness for your attackers.

You feel a presence behind you, and turn around, quickly taking the archer to the ground and holding your knife to his neck. He was older, with pointed ears and white hair. He barred his teeth angrily, but with your knees holding down his arms and knife against his neck, he was stuck.

“Why are you attacking us?” You seethed, your knife getting dangerously close to his neck. He struggled.

“They told us you would be passing through- you killed my whole family you bitch!” he shouted, you froze, “Just kill me! Like you did to all of them!” You stood there in silence, hesitating, trying to remember who it was that you killed. You couldn’t kill this man too, you promised you would never hurt anyone again.

Suddenly you were under him, his knife starting to slide across your neck. You didn’t even raise your hands to defend yourself, you could see the pain of his loss clearly on his face. You nodded, closing your eyes as you waited for him to finish. You remembered Azriel’s words from earlier, he was right after all, there would be no redemption either way.

You felt the weight lift from your throat and took a deep breath, opening your eyes and seeing Azriel’s angry from holding up the man. Azriel looked absolutely terrifying in that moment. “No, don’t hurt him- “You started, but Azriel had his knife out and slashed his neck, throwing his body to the ground. You cried out, crawling over to the males bloodied form. His eyes frantically looked around, and you grabbed his hand, but there was no usual tug, no usual surge of power as you took his pain, you looked up again and met with lifeless eyes. The male was already gone.

“Did you…did you know him?” Azriel spat out, grabbing you angrily by your arm and pulling you up. “He shot me out of the sky and just had a knife to your neck, and now you’re crying over him?”

“of course I didn’t know him!” You pushed back at Azriel, looking down at the male who was dead. “I just…. I just….” You felt a wave of nausea roll through you and turned so you could dry heave. Another death, because of you, again.

“You just what Y/N?” Azriel barked, and you flinched from him. “Tell me what is going on.”

“He’s dead!” You whispered. Azriel looked astounded, looking at the man then at you. He then laughed. “Why are you laughing?”

“Give me a fucking break, Y/N. Lets go.” He grabbed your arm, pulling you with him.

You two wandered until you found a cabin, the candles were still burning when you arrived and there was a fire going in the fireplace. You were becoming more worried about Azriel by the minute, his skin was losing it’s color and he was almost limping as he walked. As soon as you both entered the cabin, he sat down in a chair and started removing his leathers.

“Azriel- are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I just need to get this arrow out of my wing.” He muttered, looking at you. You watched him as he reached behind him, failing to get a good grip on it. “Would you mind?”

“I can help.” You whispered, coming up behind him and looking at his wing. His wings were beautiful, dark and somewhat translucent, you had never been this close to him before. You could see an oddish green color seeping from one of the wounds and your heart dropped, poison.

You slowly touched the area around the protruding arrow, he tensed up. Your fingers lightly traced the area around it, trying to figure out if pulling it out was the best option or if keeping it in to stop the blood flow would be better. Removing it would probably be best, since it was poisoned.

“Azriel, I’m going to remove it now, okay?” You said quietly, bracing your hands on the arrow. This would hurt like a bitch, but only for a second. You pulled, wincing as the wing membrane tore open a little more. Azriel grunted. “I’m so sorry, but it should start to feel better now, okay? Let me go outside so we can ice it.”

“No- don’t go.” Azriel looked back at you, his expression a little less guarded. “There could be more of them out there- it’s unsafe.”

“I’ll be okay, we really need to keep an eye on this for a little bit.” You reassured him and walked out of the warm cabin and into the harsh cold. You grabbed as much snow as you could fit in your sack and came back in just a few minutes later, as soon as you walked in Azriel seemed to slump in relief.

“How are you feeling?” You asked him, noting that his complexion had looked possibly worse than before.

“I’m feeling okay.” He looked at you, his eyebrows scrunching, then a small smile came to his lips. You stopped in your tracks, if Azriel was smiling at you, there definitely was something wrong. “I feel a little funny….I think there was something in those arrows.”

You nodded, coming over and handing the cold pack to him. He nodded and placed it against his wing, wincing at the cold. “You really confuse me, Y/N.” He admitted, his shadows seemed as lethargic as him as they swirled around you. “I can’t figure out who you are- I just see so many different things and it’s not adding up.

“Who do you see?” You whispered, and he shook his head, somewhat confused. “You can tell me.”

“You act like you are kind, and at first I thought it was for show, but you seem to be kind even when nobody knows it’s you.” He explains, his voice somewhat slurring. “You pay attention, you leave out books you know Feyre will like, you leave out Mor’s favorite snacks when she doesn’t even like you.”

“And I’ve watched you train with Cassian; you refuse to throw a punch even when he’s wide open. Even- even with that guy outside who was going to kill you- you refused to hurt him, and you cried when he died.” Azriel looked at you, without hatred, for the first time. “How can someone who killed so many people, who tortured others and laughed as their families mourn, cry over a stranger? There is something you’re not telling me. Rhys and Cassian can see it, what are you not telling me? I want so badly to be on your side, please, tell me, who are you? ”

You felt tears fall down your face, because he’s only saying this because he was drugged. “Azriel, I don’t want to hurt anyone ever again.” You whispered, “I’m different than I was under the mountain.”

Azriel nodded, head leaning back as he winced in pain. You grabbed his hand, not asking for permission, and pulled away his pain. You thought of your family, your last memories with them. Your mother, father and two brothers sitting at the table. Your brothers throwing food at each other whenever your parents weren’t looking, trying to get it into each other’s mouths, and trying to hide your laughter so your parents wouldn’t notice. You could feel him sigh in relief and fall unconscious. You sighed in relief, playing the memory again in your head, missing who you were 50 years ago.

You woke up with a gasp, the pain from Azriel’s injuries tearing through your back. How did he deal with this much pain without even showing it? You snuck outside past Azriel’s sleeping form, and grabbed some snow into the pack that you had used for Azriel, hoping the cold would help your back.

After shoveling some of the snow into the pack, you felt a presence behind you and looked up, seeing Azriel in the doorway. “Are you feeling bet-“

“What did you do to me?” Azriel growled, walking down the three steps to confront you in the snow. “Who were those people? What did you do?”

“You were poisoned Azriel, I just…I gave you some snow to cool you down and tried to get rid of the infection.” You looked up at him, trying to find the man who you had spoken to so truthfully a few hours before. “You were a little confused, which is expected.”

He shook his head, “who was that family? Is that another family you killed?” he spat, and you froze in place. You didn’t realize that you had shown him that. “Forgot I asked. Don’t ever touch me again. Get back in here so I don’t have to protect your ass if someone else comes around to kill us.”

You nodded, leaving the pack in the snow and making your way back up to the cabin. You could feel the chills start but could feel how physically hot your body felt. You laid down on the floor, where you were previously right next to the fire. Azriel stood next to the door, watching you intently like you might try to run away.

“Are you alright? You’re shaking.” Azriel stated, and you nodded. He walked over to you, hesitating then placing his hand on your forehead for a brief second. “Y/N, you’re burning up. We need to take off some of these layers.”

You couldn’t find it in yourself to argue as Azriel ripped off your leathers, freezing at what he saw. He turned you over, but you were pale and nearly unconscious. You could hazily see a hint of worry on his face as you passed out.

The flight back was torturous, the pain had started shortly after you woke up, and with each pound of Azriel’s wings another wave of pain went through you. You noticed that for the first time, you were warm and Azriel kept you close to his chest. You could feel how slow your heart rate was, and the growing pain made your realize that maybe this trip would be the end for you.

“Hey Azzie” You whispered, looking up at him. He was truly so beautiful, especially with he early morning sunrise reflecting off his features and the small beads of sweat. “Are you hurting at all?”

“No Y/N, I’m fine.” He stated, looking down at you confused. “Azzie? Where is this coming from?”

“I think Azzie would be a fun nickname.” You laughed before groaning in pain. “I just wanted to tell you something really important.”

“And what is that?” He looked down at you, if you looked like how you felt, then you could understand the growing concern in your eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me you were hurt? We could have left last night.”

“I don’t want to argue, please.” You whispered, trying to get closer to him. You felt cold and hot at the same time. “Those people I showed you- I did kill them in a way.” His arms stiffened but you continued. “That was my last good memory before I…. became a murderer. I didn’t protect them, I left and they came and attacked and I was the only one brought under the mountain.” The pain in your chest matched the pain in your back. “I couldn’t take away their pain, I couldn’t hold them as they died, I will never forgive myself.”

“You can’t save everyone,” Azriel whispered, you sighed and closed your eyes again, listening to the thumping of his wings. “Why didn’t you just use the antidote on yourself too, I could have handled it.”

“I can’t use it on me.” You whispered, before falling back unconscious.

---------------------------

“I need help in here!” Azriel’s voice boomed, causing you to stir and groan from your position in his arms. “Rhysand!”

You heard thumping and were placed on a soft surface; you felt a warm hand against your cheek and found yourself leaning into it. Then the pain started, and you felt yourself writhe as the poison worked its way through your back.

“I’m not sure what happened, one minute she was fine.” You heard Azriel say in a panicked voice, “then she’s shaking from the cold, no matter how hot I turned up the fire. She has a fever, and her skin is cold to the touch. She has been delirious for the past two hours of the flight, talking about forgiveness and you and Cassian knowing the truth. What is going on Rhys?”

You could feel a set of hands on your back and you screamed in pain as they tried to flip you over. “Don’t do that! You’re hurting her!” You heard a voice yell, and you tried to keep your mouth shut to prevent any more noises from escaping.

“High lord, I’m going to need to him out of here if he can’t control himself.” You heard the women say, you recognized her voice, was that the healer?

“Azriel, what else happened?” Rhys voice asked, you realized that you couldn’t open your eyes, but you weren’t in as much pain, Rhys must be doing something to you.

“We were attacked on the way back; I took three arrows to the wing but she didn’t say anything. Hell, I didn’t even see an arrow go towards her.” You could hear, maybe it was worry, in his voice. “Then she healed me somehow, but she didn’t heal herself. She couldn’t tell me why.” You felt a hand grab yours, and from the ridges of skin there could tell it was Azriel.

“Please, help her.” You heard him whisper.

“Madja, Y/N an absorber healer, she’s been poisoned.” Rhys instructs; you hear a gasp from the healer.

“By the cauldrons, I have never met one before, they are so rare.” You hear her say.

Despite Rhys’s efforts, you feel another wave of pain shoot down your back, but you keep your mouth closed to avoid screaming. “Azriel- get out.” Rhys shouted, and you tried to shake your head in objection. You need Azriel, you gripped his hand tighter, or tried to in your half-conscious state.

You felt your shirt rip open, and then your hand was released, and steps were taken away from you. “Rhys- what are those- why does she have all those scars on her back?”

“She can explain when she wakes up.”

You woke up with a start, a scream on your lips. “Y/N, you’re okay.” A voice said, and you felt two hands rest on your shoulders. You snapped your head to see, Azriel? You looked around, you were in your room, but a chair had been pulled up next to the bed.

“How long��”

“3 days.” Azriel stated, settling back down into the chair.

You nodded, “and…why are you in my room?” You looked around, cautiously looking back at him. He looked…incredulous.

“Oh I don’t know, maybe I’m just making sure you wake up.” Azriel cocked his head to the side, anger filling his eyes. “Why would you do that Y/N? I would have been perfectly fine, but you almost got yourself killed, you had no right to do that to yourself on my behalf!”

“It’s not like I can help it!” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at the scratchiness In your throat. He grabbed a cup of water for you on the nightstand, and you drank almost the whole thing. “Azriel- can I be honest?”

“Please do, I need a good explanation.” He retorted, sarcasm lacing his tone. His shadows were surrounding you, but seemed almost- relieved.

“I can’t watch people in pain.” You whispered, “Watching you in pain killed me inside, and even though you hate and can’t stand to be around me, I couldn’t just watch you go through that.”

“I did hate you.” Azriel says, grabbing your hand. “How else was I supposed to feel? You had killed people I knew, people with families, tortured for fun and acted like you enjoyed it. Hell- I think the whole court hated you.”

You looked down, nodding, tears in your eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, Y/n.” You looked up, locking eyes with Azriel, “I was such an idiot, the signs were there, and you’re a terrible liar. When I saw the scars on your back, I – I lost my shit. Literally. I don’t Madja is going to let me anywhere near the healing quarters anytime soon.”

“I was just trying to help people the only way I knew how.” You whispered, a tear spilling. He nodded, reaching up and cupping your face.

“I feel like a monster too, I’ve killed and tortured, but I’ve always done it in the name of our court.” He exhaled shakily, giving you a small smile. “But you are kind, and I have just been so frustrated over the past couple of months because I wanted to hate you so much- but couldn’t bring myself to. Watching you laugh with Cassian and Feyre, I felt so helpless like you could never open up to me like that. I literally couldn’t even be in the same room as you, because I felt so…jealous for no reason.”

“Rhys- when he told me about us going together, I was angry. Angry that he would put you in danger just for the sake of getting us to get along.” You watched anger fill his eyes, “and he almost got you killed.”

“I’m okay.” You reassured, smiling through the tears that were still falling.

“just make me a promise, okay?” Azriel released the grip on your face and grabbed your hand, fiercely. “I never want you to take my pain again, or anyones for that matter, okay? My pain is mine to bear, alone.”

You nodded, feeling some relief. “Thank you Azriel, I…this means a lot to me. I’ve been wanting to tell you everything for so long.”

“I want to hear everything,” he squeezed your hand again, and you could feel your heart flutter. “I will never let you get hurt again, and honestly…Azriel is so formal. I’m okay with Azzie….as long as its between us.”

#azriel #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic

405 notes · View notes

seitmai · 13 hours ago

Text

Many thoughts

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.” You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

Oh no being the center of attention is bad, but because of Bucky, the person that she wants to not really think or talk about? Arguably worse

“We all know you aren’t going to flaunt any gift he gets you, but you should’ve seen the way he looked at you. He had hearts in his eyes,” Gina smiled. You tried to smile back. There were hearts alright, along with some darkness that they weren’t aware of. “I’m surprised he even looked at us.” “Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with. “Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

Intense is one way to describe it...

If being treated like a doll, having you followed, and showering you with affection while messing with your head was meant to make you happy… “He thinks we’re soulmates. That we were meant to find each other and be together. It’s… a lot,” you said carefully. “I haven’t had anyone who seems to need me the way he does, especially so quickly.” “Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

And with a lot she really means A LOT

“Ahh! You beautiful slut! Thigh riding is so hot!” If anyone ever needed a hype girl or enabler, Dana was the one to call. “And what are you waiting for?! Let him fuck you and eat your kitty. Do it for us.”

Do it for us lmao

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

Period

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

Fair hahha this is the only way to use Buckys affection for good 😅

You were on the verge of tears. They were happy for you, but didn't seem to notice your discomfort. You didn’t blame them. Not at all. It was your fault for not being truthful about the true nature of your relationship. That wedge you imagined Bucky was trying to drive between you and your friends felt real and they didn't even know.

💔💔💔

“Wow. If you’re considering that it’s either because you’re going along with what he wants or you really care about him. I hope it’s the latter,” she said, her brows pinching in concern. “But, listen, if you aren’t ready for that, he has to understand you haven’t dated in some time and you should go at the pace that makes you feel comfortable. I’m sure he’ll understand and it shouldn’t change how he feels.”

She's a good friend 🫶🏻

Your words caught in your throat. The pace wasn’t yours to control, even if Natasha said you had power. There was no choice in moving in and you wish you could blurt out every single thing that transpired, but the words refused to come out. Because all you could think about was what would happen to Addison, and she didn’t deserve any kind of pain.

This just breaks my heart 💔

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased. “Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Fair 😅

You inhaled. Bucky, Bucky, Bucky. Everything went back to him, and you had to say something. “You know what I should tell her?” You smiled as they listened expectantly. “I should tell her that even though Bucky is rich and handsome and could have anyone he wants, he stalked me and coerced me into being his girlfriend. You think her head will still explode, or will she just laugh?” The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Iconic!! Let it out!!

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-” “Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻

“But you didn’t, Bucky. You didn’t let me know what I was getting into. One look at me and you made the decision for me and sealed my fate,” you continued, looking sadly at Ray. “So while I’m thinking of you today like you wanted, I want you to think of me and that target you painted on my back and my loved ones. And think about if you really love me the way you say you do.”

I love that she makes him rethink his choices! Not sure how useful it is but still!

“I’m finishing the day with my friends. Ray will stay here with me. I also need to go to my place before I go to the penthouse,” you said. If he wanted you there so badly, he could bend a bit since you were in no direct danger at the moment. “And don’t expect a happy conversation like we had this morning.”

Good for her!

You stared at your own glass, dread filling your stomach. You felt perfectly fine, but they looked tired. Was it possible that someone slipped something in their drinks or food? Did Ray do something or did Bucky set something up in order to make you leave? Or were you just being paranoid?

Oh no 🙈

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

Not good😬

Hold You Tight: Part 19

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 18 | Series Masterlist | Part 20

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.2k

Chapter Summary: Your day out with your friends isn't as relaxing as you want it to be.

Chapter Warnings: DARK AU, drinking, suspected drugging, reference to stalking and violence, your friends are cheering you on, inner turmoil, stubborn reader, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight! Thank you again for sticking with me! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo . ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You wished you could say you breathed easier as the limo pulled away, but you didn’t. You felt Bucky’s piercing eyes on you, watching until you were completely out of sight. He still wasn’t “out of sight, out of mind.” He made sure you’d think about him, and Ray was following in his vehicle. Even glancing quickly at the limo partition you could see that it was cracked. Was the driver one of Bucky’s men?

“Okay, so your new boyfriend is stupidly hot and loaded,” Dana said, her eyes darting around the limo. “You should be proud of yourself. Holy shit.”

“I should be proud of somehow snagging a hot and loaded guy?” you laughed a little. You always told yourself money wasn’t a factor as long as the love was there.

“Yes! Tell me he’s spoiling you the way he’s spoiling us today.”

You shrank back in your seat a bit. It wasn’t that it was the first time you were the center of attention with your friends, but it overwhelmed you specifically since it concerned Bucky. “Well, he bought me this outfit. And he has bought me a ton of books since I love to read,” you answered. You weren’t about to say that he transferred a ton of money into your account. “And on our first date he gave me a diamond necklace.”

The girls gasped. “Clothes, books, and a diamond necklace?! Yeah, be proud and fucking flaunt it,” Dana encouraged. She had to be half teasing since she knew that wasn’t your style. “Gina, Addison, back me up here.”

“Yeah, he’s… kind of intense like that,” you said. That was the word you’d go with.

“Intense isn’t necessarily bad.” Addison scooted closer to you. “And you’re happy, right? He treats you well?”

“Soulmates? Wow,” Addison said. “I can see why you’d say it’s a lot.”

You could’ve hugged her. Maybe she saw through some of the charade. If she did, that could also put her in danger if she spoke out.

“Or maybe he just knows what he wants and he’s an all in kind of guy,” Dana commented. She had no idea. “Wait! Have you two had sex?!”

“No, we haven’t had sex yet,” you answered. Just him jerking off over the phone and some heavy petting and jerking off again with you nearby. “But he really wants to sleep with me and I did ride his thigh,” you mumbled.

It was still clear as day in your head, how he encouraged you to get off, his lips against yours. You didn’t want to think about it, but Bucky got his way and invaded your thoughts. It was inevitable.

“Hey. There’s nothing wrong with waiting,” Addison promised. Of all of your friends, she’d snap if Bucky ever hurt you. “You wait as long as you want.”

You were trying to wait, but it was only a matter of time before you had to sleep with him. “It’s just…”

“Are you worried that his feelings will fade once you two have sex?” Gina asked.

“I’m not worried about his feelings diminishing,” you said with complete sincerity. His feelings wouldn’t waver, even if his actions screamed love-bombing. “I just… I guess I never pictured myself dating someone who owns a nightclub. He just seems out of my league.”

And he was someone who had very dangerous ties.

“No, we don’t put ourselves down here. Every league is your league, and he should be honored to be your guy.” Dana clapped her hands together. “Ooh! What if we do a big date night at his club? We bring our guys, and we can all hang out?”

Your eyes widened. “I… Maybe,” you replied. It would just be another chance for Bucky to charm them, and it felt like you’d be asking him for a favor by letting your friends in. He’d probably love it.

“I’m texting my man and telling him you got a diamond necklace.” Dana quickly typed something on her phone. “He needs to step up his game.”

“As fun as it is talking about Bucky, maybe we can talk about something else?” you smiled, nudging Addison. You didn’t want this whole day to be about Bucky and your relationship. “Your big day is getting closer.”

“Yes, it is,” she smiled.

You relaxed in the seat when the conversation shifted to the wedding and found yourself smiling and laughing through the rest of the ride. Bucky still lingered in your mind since he’d be at the wedding. The nice part was that since you were in the bridal party, he couldn’t spend the entire day with you.

“We’re here!” Addison smiled as the limo eventually came to a stop.

You were the last to get out and you took a deep breath. The winery was the perfect mix of relaxation, beauty, and good vibes. The lush vineyard stretched across the hills, and you wished for a moment you could run through them and disappear. The sun on your face brought you back to the present and made you smile, and you couldn't wait to sample some wine with the girls. You had a right to enjoy your time.

“You coming?” Dana asked.

“You two go ahead. We’ll be right in,” Addison said, linking her arm with yours and leading you away from the limo. You tensed up only for a moment when you saw Ray’s vehicle in the distance. It didn’t look completely out of place though since there were other cars and people around. “Okay, what’s up? You seem on edge.”

“I do?” you asked. You thought she didn’t notice, and you should’ve known better.

“Yeah. Is it work? Or is it about Bucky?” You tensed up again. “Did you think we wouldn’t like him?”

“No, that’s not it. It’s just a lot really fast, that’s all,” you said, leaning in to whisper, “I didn’t want to say it in the limo, but he wants me to move in with him.”

She stopped walking. “Whoa. Okay, that is fast, but some couples do move quickly in whirlwind romances, so I wouldn’t say it’s completely out of the ordinary. Brady and I knew right away that we wanted to be together,” she said. What she had with Brady was pure, and you could’ve possibly had that with Bucky in another life. “Maybe Dana’s right that he just knows what he wants and he wants to go all in.”

“He’s very much all in,” you agreed.

“Are you considering moving in with him?”

“Maybe,” you said. Bucky was going to force his hand either way.

“And if I do care about him and want to move in?” you asked.

“You know we’ll support whatever you do, but think about it carefully because that’s a big step. And if things go south, you tell us right away so we can help,” she said, giving you a small smile. “He may be your boyfriend, but you’re still my best friend and I was here first. I’ll smack him with a frying pan if he messes up.”

You blinked tears away before you hugged her. You were lucky to have a friend like her. “A frying pan? What happened to a shovel?” you teased.

“Frying pan is more accessible,” she teased back, giving you a squeeze. “Now let’s go. We have some wine to try.”

Ray kept a respectable distance from your table and didn’t make eye contact as he pretended to read while sipping his drink. You were glad for that since your friends didn’t seem to take notice of him as you all ate and sampled various wines. Though you were having a great time, you hardly drank a drop. You wanted to stay on guard in case Bucky decided to crash the outing.

“Oh, we need to take a bottle of this home,” Dana said, pointing at her empty glass. “And where the hell is your cousin?!”

“She bailed.” Addison rolled her eyes. “That's exactly why she’s not in the wedding party. I can’t rely on her.”

“That and she’s a bitch,” Dana said unapologetically while pointing at you. “We know she would’ve said something shitty about you and Bucky, and we don’t need that bad energy.”

You scoffed. Addison’s cousin was the type who always had to one-up someone or try to tear them down so she felt better about herself. You tried to see the best in others, but you were admittedly glad she wasn’t there today. “I’m sure she’ll have something to say at the wedding.”

“If she does say anything, don’t listen to her,” Addison urged. “Or say something back to shut her down.”

“Rub it in her face how hot and rich Bucky is,” Dana grinned, nudging you with her elbow. “Her head will explode.”

The table went silent as you sipped your wine before they burst out laughing. A few heads turned your way from the sound, and you didn’t crack a smile when Ray made eye contact with you. Had he heard what you said?

Dana laughed so hard she wheezed. “You don’t understand. I need you to tell her that just to see the look on her face. Please. I beg of you.”

“And make sure Bucky’s in on the joke, too,” Gina giggled.

Your heart sank. Their safety came first, but the reaction was another reason you didn’t say anything. Who would possibly believe you? He was a rich and powerful man and you were merely a florist. “Maybe I can say something that’s not quite so dark,” you smiled.

Addison stared at you curiously before she shook her head. “You and your sense of humor,” she teased, drinking the rest of her glass. “But if you could shut her up, I’ll be thankful.”

Your phone dinged before you could respond, and you almost spit up the little wine you had when you saw a message from Bucky.

“Call me. Now.”

Direct. No sweet words. Oh, no.

“Is that your loverboy?” Dana wiggled her eyebrows.

“As a matter of fact it is and he’s asking for me to call him. Do you mind if…”

“Go. We’ll be right here,” Addison smiled.

Your legs felt a bit rubbery as you walked outside and took a look around to make sure no one was nearby. What if he had a bug in your phone and he heard what you said? Oh, God. You were so stupid.

Pressing his name on your phone, you let out a shaky breath when he immediately picked up. “Kotyonok, I need you to come back,” he replied, his tone stern. Upset.

You swallowed. God, he did hear you. You could convince him it was a joke, right? No one had to get hurt. “Why, what’s wrong?” you asked, your tone remarkably calm. “We aren’t done with our samples.”

“You were followed to Addison’s this morning by one of Zemo’s men. Ray and I both spotted him.” There were muffled noises in the background. “I just finished… talking to him.”

“I was followed?” you whispered, your heart sinking for a completely different reason now. The day you went out with your friends someone followed you? “What did he want?”

“I can explain more later, but he had a ‘look, but don’t touch’ order. I broke his fingers anyway.” You closed your eyes. He sounded proud of himself. “I have some business to attend to for the rest of the day and I have to go to the club after, which is why I need you back at home.”

Ray appearing behind you almost made you drop your phone. “Jesus, Ray,” you gasped, your heart nearly beating out of your chest.

“I’m sorry,” he said, briefly resting a hand on your shoulder. “Boss messaged me to bring you home.”

“Yeah, I’m talking to him right now,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “And I’m not going home right now. I'm not leaving.”

“What?” Bucky growled. He could be angry all he wanted. You didn’t care. “This isn’t something to argue about or negotiate, I need you safe and-”

“Safe? You need me to be safe?” you asked, trying to stay calm amidst the storm inside you. “Has it occurred to you that the entire reason I’m not safe is because of you? That the only reason Zemo even cares about following me is because I’m your girl?”

“You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t know I painted the very target on your back by falling for you? I’m well aware of that fact, but I’m also the one who can keep you safe.” He sounded almost as vulnerable as he did when he talked about his mom. “So just… come home.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Home. “You know, there are a lot of dangerous people out there who have families and loved ones. And I’m sure some of them are blissfully unaware of what goes on behind the scenes, but not all of them are. Some are very well aware of what their partners do for a living because they were told what they were getting into.”

“Kotyonok-”

“I do love you,” he breathed. It would be nice to believe that. “Come home, please, and we’ll talk when I get back from the club.”

One step forward, two steps back.

“I’ll just be happy that you’re safe,” he said, which only infuriated you more. You couldn’t make out what he ordered to someone else, but the muffled noises picked up again. “Leave in thirty minutes. The driver will drop your friends off and he’ll take you to the apartment. Ray will take you home from there.”

“Two hours,” you stated just to be stubborn.

“One hour,” he countered. “Or I’ll drive there myself.”

You huffed, but didn’t want to test him. “Fine. I’ll leave in one hour.” The girls would understand if you made some excuse.

“Thank you,” he exhaled. He really did sound relieved. “I love you. I’ll see you later this evening.”

You waited a beat. “Think about what I said.” Ray waited patiently as you hung up. “Have I told you that your boss is a pain in the ass?”

“He certainly is, but he is correct that your safety is important,” he agreed, gently stopping you before you went back inside. “If you aren’t in the limo in one hour, he will come after you.”

“I know,” you sighed. Bucky would be dramatic like that. And protective. “Someone was really following me?” you asked in a small voice. Bucky had no reason to lie unless he was trying to get you away from your friends.

Ray nodded solemnly. “It could’ve been to report your movements back to Zemo, but I’d have to ask the boss for more details since I didn’t get to interrogate him myself.”

“I do appreciate you both spotting him,” you complimented, even if Bucky violently handled it. You shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Of course.” There was a ghost of a smile on his face. “You were wrong, you know.”

Your brows pinched. “About what?”

“Your strength. You handled that well all things considered,” he answered.

“You’re only saying that because you can’t read my mind,” you said. It was a mess. But you hadn’t broken down or cried, so that was a plus.

For a moment you thought he’d laugh, but he merely nodded to the building. “Better go join your friends before they miss you.”

“Thanks, Ray,” you whispered, putting a smile back on your face as you walked back inside and headed back to the table.

Addison held up two fingers. “You missed two more rounds of samples.”

“I guess I'll have to catch up,” you teased. “And would anyone object to leaving in an hour? Bucky’s planning a romantic evening for the two of us, and I need to stop by my apartment before I head over to his place,” you said. It was partially true. “If you all want to stay, I’ll get an uber and you can take the limo.”

“An hour’s fine.” Dana blinked a few times. “Anyone else tired? I’m a little tired.”

Gina covered her mouth when she yawned. “Yeah, I am, too.”

“I feel fine,” you said, frowning when Addison yawned, too. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, but a nap sounds good right about now,” she said, pushing her now empty glass away and checking the time. “It is kind of late. It’ll be night time when we get back.”

“Is everyone okay?” you asked. It felt like too much of a coincidence that they all felt tired after you came back to the table. “Should we just leave right now?”

“I’m fine. I was just up really late last night,” Addison answered. Dana and Gina nodded in agreement.

“Maybe we should cut back on the samples and stick with water,” you suggested.

“You’ve always been the sensible one,” Dana said, resting her chin in her hand. “But can we still buy some bottles?”

“Yeah. As many as we want,” you promised. Bucky did say he’d spoil you, so why not?

Exactly one hour later, you were back in the limo with the girls and plenty of bottles. Unlike the ride over, the ride back was much quieter. You thought Addison would fall asleep on your shoulder at one point and Dana actually did fall asleep at one point for a few minutes. They somehow didn’t stumble on the way to the limo, and it would’ve impressed you if you weren’t so worried.

“Are you sure you girls are okay? Should we go to the hospital?” you asked.

“Why would we do that? We drank more at my bachelorette party than we did today. We’re fine,” Addison assured you. “You worry too much.”

You had good reason to worry. “This sounds crazy, but did you drug my friends? I need to know if I should take them to the hospital.” you messaged Bucky. If he did something to them…

He typed something back right away. “How could I possibly drug your friends when I wasn’t there? Is everyone okay?”

Did he actually care? “I’m fine, but they’re very drowsy and I’m worried.”

“Ray kept me updated and he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. None of Zemo’s men were there. I didn't do anything either. Did any of them complain that they were dizzy? Nauseous? Did anyone pass out?”

“No, but it could've been something like Benadryl to make them drowsy and get me to possibly leave faster.” Or punish you by mentioning the stalking thing, if he knew, and show you that his reach expanded beyond the city.

“That’s a very creative method to get you to leave, but lots of wine can make anyone drowsy and I have no reason to do that to your friends. I think our conversation may have scared you a bit since Zemo had someone watching you and you’re understandably worried for your friends.”

You looked around at your friends. They did drink a lot more wine than you, and drugging people didn’t seem to be Bucky’s style. Zemo’s men weren’t there. Maybe you were being paranoid and the girls really were just tired. Being part of Bucky’s circle just made you question everything.

“Okay. I’m trusting you.” You had to.

“Thank you. Your worry aside, it sounds like you girls had fun though from what I heard. Maybe the next day out can be at my club. Could be fun.”

You gasped. Did he know what Dana suggested? No, no, no. You weren’t falling down that rabbit hole, and didn’t send any texts back for the rest of the drive.

Brady and the other guys were waiting on the curb when the limo stopped at Addison’s. You were the only one who didn’t get out, but you gave each of them hugs and helped hand out the wine to their significant others. They seemed a bit more awake, so maybe they were just fine. “Love you girls. And, guys, keep an eye on them. They had quite a few samples,” you said. You’d have to text each of them later to check on them.

“Love you,” the girls echoed before the door shut.

The driver headed in the direction of your place after a minute. What were you going to say to Bucky when you saw him? Would you scream at him for putting you in danger, or would you just accept that this was your life? It was a continuous losing battle the more you fought.

The morning you had with Bucky, minus the groping, had been somewhat nice. Could it be like that all the time if you tried? Could it be better if he loosened the reins?

“Thank you,” you said when the limo stopped and the partition rolled down a few inches. “How much do I owe you?”

“Mr. Barnes took care of that, miss, but if you’ll allow me-”

“Oh, no. Please don’t get out. I got it,” you smiled, letting yourself out. You scanned the street for Ray’s car, but didn’t see it. He was likely waiting for the limo to pull away.

Two steps into your building, your phone dinged. “What now?” you muttered when you opened a text from Bucky.

“Ray got a flat tire. Stay in the limo.”

You read the message twice. A flat tire? You were about to type back to Bucky that you already left the limo when you heard a familiar voice by the elevator. “It’s about time you got back.”

You couldn’t breathe when you found a pair of blue eyes staring at you. “Clark… what are you doing here?”

Oh, I hope you lovelies are prepared for the next part. And what do we think of your friends? And were they just drowsy or did something happen? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

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ang3ltine · 2 days ago

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"𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠" - Ellie Williams x Jealous freader MDNI!! 18+

𝖲𝗒𝗉𝗇𝗈𝗌𝗂𝗌: Having a crush on Ellie wasn't easy, especially when she had her eyes set on Dina. Does that make you jealous? Very much, but Ellie was determined to prove you wrong. Even if it means fucking the truth into you.

𝖶𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: slight angst and adult themes, so please scroll if you're a minor!

Despite the Tipsy Bison being pretty full tonight, you couldn't help but feel lonely.

Your eyes were following a certain brunette in the middle of the dance floor, Dina. As much as your heart ached from seeing her flaunt around with Ellie with that sickingly sweet smile on her face, you couldn't stop staring.

Much to your disappointment, you weren't Ellie's type. Dina on the other hand, seemed like the perfect girl for her. You wanted to reject the idea of them being a couple so bad but that was the ugly truth. You didn't look like Dina but the way that Ellie looks at her made you wish that you did.

Stirring the drink in your hand, you hastily chugged it down your throat before slamming it down on the counter in front of you. You were at the bar, already getting drunk after a few rounds.

"Hey, you good?", you snapped out of your trance and turned to face Jesse. He stepped away from your sudden movement with his hands up in the air, chuckling slightly. "Woah! Not a threat, calm down." You gave him a forced smile and told him you were OK.

"I'm fine... just not feeling the party vibes right now."

Looking down at your hands, you saw dark crescent wounds appear on your palms from how hard you were clenching your fists.

"Doesnt sound like your ok. Your smile gave it away bubba," you snorted at the nickname and gave him a 'are you kidding me' look. He started calling you bubba after your obsession with bubbles as a kid and hasn't stopped teasing you since. You were the same age as Ellie, just a few months older. But that didn't stop you two from being close.

That was until she started talking to Dina. After her and Jesse broke up, it seemed like the pair started getting closer than usual. Up to the point that Ellie barely came by your place anymore.

Taking a deep breath then slowly turned your head back to the couple in the corner of the room.

"I was that obvious huh?" You sighed while you turned around fully to face away from the counter and leaned on it instead.

"Kind of yeah," Jesse laughed as he grabs your glass before you could take another sip. "By the way, your girlfriend over there hasn't stopped staring at you the whole night. I'm guessing from how much you've been drinking you haven't noticed yet."

You furrowed your eyebrows as Jesse nods towards the table where Dina and Ellie were sitting on.

Just like Jesse had said, a pair of dark green eyes locked with yours. Suddenly you felt exposed under her intense stare.

She was eyeing your outfit, which was a simple white cami dress with a lace trim paired with your usual leather brown jacket.

Considering that there were kids in the party too , you wore something appropriate but pretty nonetheless.

Ellie gave you a small smile before looking back to Dina to carry on their conversation.

"She's not my 'girlfriend' ", you sighed while rubbing your temples with your fingers. "Besides she looks like she has her eyes set on Dina..." you rambled on while walking with Jesse to a free table near the entrance of the bar.

A small frown was apparent on your face, catching the eye of a certain brunette just a few tables away. She noticed how you didn't smile back at her. Walking beside Jesse like you never even acknowledged Ellie's presence.

"Dina does have a way with words," Jesse grimaced as he poured you another drink. Realising there was no stopping you and saw how upset you were.

"Nah she's not for me, you on the other hand. You have a chance with Ellie, she clearly likes you -" before he could say another word he catches something that he thought he'd never see.

You noticed how Jesse froze with the beer bottle in his hand and followed his nervous gaze towards the couple behind you.

Dina... was kissing Ellie??

Suddenly the room started to spin and a painful throb formed in your throat. Jesse's voice became muffled as he tried calming you down, feeling your heart quicken and your palms becoming sweaty.

You had to get out of there. Fast.

That's exactly what you did, despite being pretty tipsy from the drinks. You found the strength to make it towards the door and a frantic Jesse followed after to make sure you got home safely.

After dropping you off he muttered an apology and a long hug before leaving. Knowing you had a rough night and wanted some alone time.

Half an hour had gone by before you heard knocks on the front door. You had fallen asleep on the couch in the living room and quite frankly, didn't want to get up to answer.

But after another set of frantic knocks, you got up with heavy steps and opened the door lazily. Lucky for you, you sober up quite quickly, but it didn't mean the throbbing on your head had gone away yet.

A pair of strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a warm embrace. Ellie felt you tense up but soon relax under her touch as her hands slide to your waist, looking down at you with worried eyes.

"Hey... I'm sorry you had to see that. Dina, she uh - wanted us to be thing, but I turned her down. Are you ok though?"

"I'm fine just...I dunno honestly-" you internationally groaned from how pathetic you must look right now.

"You're jealous of me and Dina?"

"You've been with her all night." You sighed while messing with the band of her jeans, sticking your finger through one of the belt holes.

"Hey" her finger slipped under your chin, tilting your head up slightly to meet her eyes. "Why didn't you come over?"

"I didn't want to bother you. You were having fun -" before you could say more, Ellie cut you off.

"Yeah, well I would've had more fun with you and not seeing you sulk with Jesse." She snickered as she sees the flicker of a smile on your face.

"So you were watching me the whole time and you didn't think to come over yourself?" You pried with a smug look on your face.

"With the dress you're wearing? Who wouldn't stare? Plus I didn't want to ruin your conversation with Jesse."

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks at her comment with a dopey smile on your face.

"So we're just both idiots?"

"Yup" she stated, emphasising the p. You moved towards the mirror that was in the hallway to see how bad you looked after a rough nap on the couch. In your eyes you looked like an absolute mess.

Your dress was all ruffled from you constantly moving in hour sleep, the same with your hair. The makeup you wore was starting to fade , making the outer rims of your eyes dark.

Ellie then wrapped her around your waist, meeting your eyes in the mirror, her breath fanning your neck.

"I know what you're thinking. But you still look gorgeous in my eyes ," you wanted to say something back but your breath got caught in your throat. Her hands had snuck down to your torso. Rubbing slow but comforting circles into your hips.

"What are we Ellie?" You finally breathed out.

"Hm I thought it was obvious," she drawled as her fingers made their way down to the band of your denim shorts.

"Last time I checked, you and I had a pretty good time last night. Guess I have to prove it to you again, huh , princess?"

Your face warmed up again, memories flicking back to last night. A faint ache pulsated in your shorts as you finally caught her hand messing with the button on the flap. "You're very confident tonight."

"Had a few drinks, oh and trust me. You being jealous is just fueling my desire."

It was then that you could smell her favourite liquor on her breath. Hastily unzipping the small zipper between her much larger fingers as she started to kiss your neck then your jaw.

"I just - I feel bad...let me make it up to you." She says in-between kisses.

Knowing you couldn't really talk her out of it, you let her do her thing. Turning your head to press a soft kiss on her cheek as she left sloppy kisses down your neck.

Her heart rate had increased as you turn around fully and looked up to see that her eyes had begun to dliate.

"See this? This is how you're making me feel right now. Absolutely crazy," Ellie pointed out as her voice goes on octave deeper. Leaning down, she lightly grazes your lips with hers as your breath hitches. She glances into your eyes, silently asking for your permission.

Seeing as there was no way out of this, you gave in. Pressing your lips against hers with fervent as you reach up to entangle you fingers into her hair. You tug at it gently, pulling out a low groan from Ellie as she deepens the kiss.

Her lips were slightly chapped but it didn't bother you as much, they were still soft. Tasting the liquor on her tongue as she slowly backs you up to the couch behind you.

Yelping as soon as she picks you up behind your legs and plops you down onto the soft cushions. It was slightly messy but that wasn't really on your mind right now. Ellie had crawled ontop of you to pull you in for another heated kiss. Whispering sweet nothings againgst your lips while you let out soft moans. Bucking up mindlessly against her hips.

She carefully removes your shorts and hiked up your dress revealing your dainty pink underwear.

"Oh? What do we have here..?", she drawls as her slender fingers crept over your throbbing cunt.

You're not sure when it happened but you only grew more wet just by her painfully hot touch.

Quickly stripping you, she left you in just your underwear. Burying her face into your neck to leave harsh kisses and bites all along your supple skin. She rips off your bra before attaching her lips onto your erected nipples, sucking and swirling around both buds carefully.

Her hand reaches down towards your heat, already feeling a wet spot on your underwear. "Huh.. that wet for me already? Just from a few kisses?" She chuckles darkly as she removes the dainty piece of clothing onto the floor beside you.

You feel her push in her index finger into you, slowly, making sure you would feel every inch of her girthy finger. The feeling of her fingers stretching you oh so deliciously got you drooling - fuck even Ellie seemed to be enjoying this more than you. Picking up the pace, she was practically fucking you with her rough fingers. Abusing your sopping wet cunt while mindlessly sucking your boob's, taking turns on each one.

Her pace never once faltered, not when you looked so good when throwing your head back in pleasure and moaning out her name. Ellie, sucked and bit each and every inch of skin she could reach, while her fingers remained curled inside you. You were so close.

"Shit Ellie! Gonna cum - please I'm gonna..-"

"Do it. Cum all over my fingers baby" she hissed as she looks down at you through her lashes. Admiring your ruined form with a lazy smirk.

Still drunk from the alcohol and the buzz from being horny.

You grab the hem of her shirt and pull her into a seering hot kiss. You couldn't let her have all the fun.

Tugging at the ends you asked for permission to take it off. She tuts and guides your hand towards the nape of your neck.

"Uh I don't think so. I'm in charge right now so you just lay back like the poised princess that you are ..", her voice going an octave deeper as she only became more amused at your reaction.

God you hated her.

An hour into the session, she has you in her lap as you lay your head on her shoulder. Already becoming exhausted from the constant thrusting from Ellie's slender fingers.

"Fuck", Ellie hissed as the grip on your hip tightened. Almost certainly leaving a bruise mark on your supple skin.

You keen, long and guttural as she continues hitting at your g-spot. Your pelvis unkowngly bucks into her hand, wanting more than you could take.

Ellie nuzzles into the crook of your neck, leaving a series of dark hickeys all over down your bare chest. Your nipples perked as she has one mound in her mouth and the other between her unoccupied fingers.

After a while she let's go with a pop and grabs your ass making you rise up and slam back down on her fingers. You cried out and instinctively reach for her shoulders for balance.

"I" slam "Still hate you", you sneer slightly despite being in a euphoric state.

"Oh, rude aren't we?" She snickered as your breath caught in your throat, you would've retorted had she not stuck another finger in. Twisting and going deeper than before to make you more dumbed out.

A dirty cheater for sure.

"Ugh...!! I-- did you have to ruin my dress too-?", you managed to hiss out while you peered down at the smug women beneath you.

You were an absolute mess, mascara stained tears ran down your cheeks. The curls of your hair unravelled and cascaded down your shoulders and your perfect pink lips, swollen and slightly bleeding.

"Don't worry babe, I'll get you a new one", she cooes while she moves a stray strand of hair away from your face.

It was one thing to fuck a pretty girl, but another thing to have a partner so smart yet bossy as you, being desperate for her to ruin your cunt.

"Shit babe!! Right there--!"

She had you fucking on her fingers for so long you couldn't even check the time on the clock, your vision blurred from your tears. At last you finally burst, unleashing a wave.

Helping you ride through your orgasm until the only thing heard in the room was lewd , wet noises coming from your sopping cunt.

Ellie, was stuffing your own juices back into you at this point, you couldn't really tell if it was that, or her fingers were just too filling.

You both were panting, one more than the other as you reach up to caress her cheeks. Nuzzling your nose against hers and whispered "I love you."

"I love me too," you scoffed and tried scrambling out of her grasp. She was laughing while trying to get you back on the couch.

"I'm fucking with you ok? I love you too dummy."

With that, Ellie lifted you up, carrying you bridal style. She softly placed a kiss on your damp forehead as she makes her way down the corridor, heading for the washroom to give you a nice warm bath.

"Still think I like Dina?"

You lightly hit her arm playfully and rolled your eyes.

"Shuttup and just take me to the bathroom already."

#ellie williams #tlou2 #tlou fanfiction #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou smut #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x y/n #the last of us 2 #the last of us #ang3ltine

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shaunamilfman · 3 days ago

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if i could be who you wanted

pairing: Shauna Shipman x f!reader (and the memory of Jackie) summary: You're Melissa. iykyk note: Minors DNI. mentions of blood, cannibalism.

You duck behind a bush the second you hear the sticks cracking beneath Shauna's feet, a bolt of fear shooting up your spine.

Shit, shit, shit.

God, Shauna would kill you if she found you out here. And you would deserve it for being so stupid.

You hadn't meant to follow her out here–well, that wasn't exactly true. You had meant to follow her, sure, but this was the last thing you had expected to find. It was sweet in a horribly depressing sort of way. It's not like you hadn't heard the way all the other girls talk about her around camp, the way they comment on her refusal to wear the dumb mask. She was grieving in her own way, and this was proof of it.

So you'd watched her visit his grave, feeling like some pathetic stalker intruding in on one of the worst moments of her life. But it wasn't the first time that's happened, was it? Everything Shauna's gone through has been in front of everyone, leaving the rest of you to watch like voyeurs as Shauna found Jackie's body. And again, as she lost her baby.

Maybe you should have let her have this one thing to herself, but you couldn't stop yourself from leaving the flower on his grave. You just wanted Shauna to know that she wasn't alone, even though she kept pushing everybody away. Good thinking, really. She's lost her best friend and her baby, but she has you: random JV girl.

You're not even sure she knows your name, even now. She'd pointed toward you and called you “that one” just last week. But it was fine. Shauna had a lot going on. Especially with her growing feud with Mari. She had actually looked at you then and seemingly saw you for the first time when you had shit-talked Mari to her. If you knew that was all it would take, you would’ve done it ages ago. It’s not like you haven’t been doing it behind Mari’s back for months.

Your hands start to shake as Shauna pulls the knife out. Pressing your hands into your thighs in an attempt to stop it only results in you finally putting enough pressure on the stick you were kneeling on to crack beneath your weight.

Fuck.

Shauna whirls around, staring intensely in your direction as she holds the knife out to her side. You know what she’s done with that knife, what you wish she would do to you. You don’t dare move, hoping that maybe Shauna won’t see you that way. Like in Jurassic Park. As long as you just stay still and make no noise, maybe you can get out of here alive.

You’re honestly terrified, and it’s not unwarranted. She was known to fly off the handle at the best of times, and here you were leaving flowers on her dead son’s grave in the middle of the woods with no one around to hear you scream. In simple terms, you’re screwed.

“Get out here,” she calls out, stepping slowly forward as her eyes search the underbrush before coming to a stop as you stand up.

You approach her slowly, with your hands clearly visible at your sides. No sudden movements. The way she’s watching you goes beyond anger, beyond even rage. You can’t put your finger on it, but it doesn’t make it any less terrifying to be on the receiving end of. It reminds you oddly of the stray dogs in your neighborhood, ribs visible beneath fur matted with grime, feral eyes focused entirely on you. It’s something in the way they bare their teeth and growl as you slowly inch away, like they’re just praying you turn your back to them so they have an excuse to lunge forward.

Back then you were at least smart enough to leave.

Now, you were moving towards the predator.

You smile weakly at Shauna, and she doesn’t even seem to notice. Every bit of her attention is focused on you for once, but now that you have it, you aren’t sure you know what to do with it. This was a lot, wasn’t it? It certainly felt like it. You’ve always heard that not all attention is good attention, but death glare or not, you were willing to take what you could get. You haven’t survived in the wilderness this long without taking what you could get and saying thank you for the scraps.

“Hey,” you say slowly.

You keep walking forward even as Shauna starts stalking toward you. If looks could kill, she wouldn’t even need to make use of the knife in her hand. Your heartbeat skyrockets, beating so hard in your chest that you can barely hear the words that leave your lips as you speak them.

“I didn’t mean to follow you, or anything. I just–I couldn’t sleep, you know?” You force out a panicked laugh that sounds more like a wheeze than anything else. Were you sweating? It felt like you’re sweating. You’re sweating like a pig, aren't you?

Focus.

“I just saw you leaving and I thought maybe I could look out for you.”

Shauna’s still quiet, damningly so as she looks at you. She doesn’t even blink. Just stares.

“Not that you need anyone to protect you, obviously.” You gesture vaguely in the direction of the knife at her side, but Shauna only grips it tighter. You were just digging the hole deeper at this point.

“But with Coach out there and Mari missing…” You trail off as you realize your words seem to have absolutely no meaning to her.

“No one,” Shauna says, gliding forward with the effortless grace of a predator. She’s not a stray dog anymore, not shaky and desperate and feral. Now she looks like the killer she is.

(The mother she is.)

“Has a right to my baby.”

Your eyes widen in fear as you take a step back, a distance that Shauna is quick to close. She doesn’t even seem to think as she moves forward. It’s not a calculated intimidation like you were used to. It just was.

“He’s my baby,” Shauna repeats.

“Oh,” you gasp, not entirely from fear. Mostly not from fear, though the feeling overwhelmed almost every one of your senses. Almost.

“No, it’s not–I wasn’t trying to…” You start helplessly. It takes everything you have in you not to start stuttering like an idiot in front of her. You weren’t doing much to help your case right now. A fact you’re reminded of as Shauna’s eyes feel like they’re drilling holes into your skull. One wrong move and you’d end up like Mari with a face full of dirt, but no one around to pull Shauna off of you.

“You’re right,” you say earnestly. Shauna hesitates for a moment, her feet stilling as she watches you. It’s almost scarier now that she’s staying in place, like her muscles are just coiling up and waiting to strike.

“I’m sorry. For everything that’s happened to you. It’s not fair–not that anything has been since…” You don’t even have to say the words. Still, the words the crash hang between you just as heavily. It hung between all of you, a constant reminder of everything you’ve lost and still have to lose since boarding that plane to nationals.

“But you just keep moving forward,” you continue. “And I really admire that.”

Shauna softens slightly, but not much. Not enough that you aren’t sure she isn’t still planning to gut you. You aren’t even sure if she knows. Shauna moves so impulsively at times that it seems to be as much of a surprise to her as it is to everyone else, like she’s halfway through the action before she even notices and has to commit to seeing it through.

“I just–”

She lunges forward, the knife away from her side and pressing against your neck before you even take another breath. Your back slams into the tree, scratching painfully against the bark beneath your skin. It hurts. But as Shauna looms over you–even though she’s looking up at you– you quickly realize how much you like it. How could you not when she looks at you with brown eyes so wild and dark and so, so close?

“If you tell anybody about this, I will fucking kill you,” Shauna says, a raw anger to her words that sends chills through your body in more ways than one. “I will kill you, and I will gut your little fucking–”

What she was going to gut will have to remain a mystery. Because before she can finish the thought, the snarled threat cuts off as you lunge forward–as much as you can with the blade of her prized knife held so closely to your throat–to kiss her. You keep your eyes open just long enough to watch hers close as your lips connect, a moment of surprise on her face before it’s gone in a flash and she’s pulling away.

The knife is held looser in her hands now, tilted up to point to your chin instead of pressed so threateningly against your throat. She’s watching you closely, her mind whirring as she scrutinizes every inch of your expression. You can practically hear her mind working, and you hope desperately that she’s decided she wants to kiss you again more than she wants to hurt you for what you did.

It’s so quiet, not a single sign of the wildlife around you.

Just the two of you panting together inches apart.

She presses forward, closing the distance as she all but slams your lips together. Both of her hands are wrapped around her knife, holding it steady even as yours fall to her hips and pull them desperately into yours. Shauna doesn’t need to be told twice, keeping you up against that tree and exactly where she wants you as she moves her hips against yours.

Shauna has the knife and unlimited power to do whatever the hell she wants out here so far from everybody else. Somehow it’s the safest you’ve felt in months.

She kisses you like she wants to devour you, which probably is a thought in the back of her mind. The only thoughts left in yours are holy shit and please. Shauna is everywhere you are, not allowing your lips to get a moment of peace as she chases each and every twitch of your jaw. You think she’d probably still kiss you on the way down if you passed out from the desperate screaming of your lungs, and the thought isn’t as unwelcome as it once might have been.

Your mouths separate just long enough for the two of you to suck in one desperate breath apiece before she’s on you again. As confused as Shauna looked the first time she pulled away, she sure seemed to get the hang of kissing a girl rather quickly. It makes you wonder if she and–

She yanks you away from the tree with one hand fisted in either side of the collar of your shirt, the knife still held in one hand. You have to turn your head to the side to avoid her cutting your jaw, leaving you unaware of the shove before it comes. It sends you stumbling back, your ankle catching painfully on an upturned root as it takes your legs out from under you far more effectively than Shauna could have done on her own.

Your back hits the ground with a loud wheeze, the sound of all the air in your lungs making a quick exit. Shauna follows you down onto her knees, one leg swinging over your hips as she settles down heavily on the base of your stomach while you’re still trying to find air left to breathe.

“Shauna,” you gasp, staring wide-eyed up at her.

She tilts her head to the side in consideration before leaning down to attach her lips to yours once again. You’re not sure it's because she still wants to kiss you as much as she wants you not to protest.

You can feel a rock digging into your back, only made worse by the way Shauna rests more of her weight on your shoulder as she leans forward, but you might still kiss Shauna even if she started biting chunks of flesh away. A rock was nothing in comparison.

Shauna’s hand was still wrapped around the knife. She wasn’t using it to threaten you anymore, was barely even aiming it in your direction, but the handle of it digs into your ribs as she holds it between the two of you. With each messy roll of her hips against your stomach, she runs the risk of cutting herself on the edge of it, which you think must be part of the thrill of it for her. The thought of the sounds that would leave Shauna’s lips if she caught the edge of her skin made you kiss her harder, almost desperate to watch her shirt turn red with it.

You’re so caught up in that thought that you almost don’t notice her fingers loosening around the hilt until she finally arches her back enough to sit it vaguely off to the side in favor of threading her fingers through your hair.

The sudden absence of the knife is almost enough to pull you out of it.

“What?” You question dumbly.

“Shut up, Jax,” she mutters, freezing the moment her brain makes the connection. Shauna looks afraid for the briefest of moments as she looks down at you. Not afraid of you or the situation. Afraid of what letting the name slip from her lips means for her. Fear quickly turns into a murderous glare. Like it was somehow your fault she said it, like you had torn it from her lips like your teeth tore flesh away from Jackie.

It takes a moment for you to realize the significance of it, far too focused on the feeling of her rubbing herself against your stomach to listen to the words coming out of her mouth. You could adapt. You’ve done a lot of that lately.

“Oh…” you say quietly, “Oh–okay.”

You lick your lips, trying to speak even as dry as your throat feels. “Okay, Shippy?” You try.

That wasn’t it.

“Don’t you dare call me that,” She hisses, fingers flexing like she’s already missing her knife.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “I didn’t mean to–”

“I don’t care,” she interrupts, speaking right over you. “Just shut up.”

You nod quickly. She grabs your chin roughly, holding your gaze captive as she forces you to meet her eyes. Whatever she finds there seems to satisfy her, because she lets go with a scoff as she rolls her eyes.

“That’s good,” she says condescendingly, tapping your cheek lightly with her fingers. “You’re good at doing what you’re told, huh?”

You flush with embarrassment, eyes drifting away as you struggle to find something to say back to that. As it turns out, you don’t have to. Not as Shauna pulls the button through her shorts, slowly dragging the zipper down as you watch. She’s holding you still with the weight of your anticipation, and she’s more than enjoying the power it gives her over you as she moves away just enough to pull her shorts and her panties out of the way in one rough pull.

“I want your mouth,” Shauna says.

It isn’t a question, but you nod anyway. She smirks, and that’s all she needs to start moving. One thigh and then the next settling on either side of your head. Your fingers tremble with hesitancy as you slowly reach out to grip her thighs, but Shauna either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care as her hand reaches out to grab your hair.

Shauna holds herself just out of reach, tantalizingly wet and just aching for your tongue. The muscles in her thighs strain from the effort, but that doesn’t register for Shauna. You feel your mouth water, leaning forward only for her to yank you back by your hair. The pained gasp you let out has an obvious effect on Shauna, her grip tightening as her cunt visibly twitches. It’s only when you give up and send her a pleading look that she finally lowers herself within reach of your mouth.

She cries out in shock at how quickly you are to take her into your mouth, your curious tongue running through her as her free hand shoots out to rest on the forest floor to balance herself.

“Oh, fuck,” she mutters, which goes straight through you.

You pull her closer by your grip on her thighs, figuring she wouldn’t get mad at you for it now that she’s let you get your mouth on her. It was a fair guess, not even a thought of protest leaving Shauna’s lips as you bury yourself in her.

She grinds down against your face, smearing her arousal up and down your chin and your cheeks. The ends of her flannel brush against your skin as she moves, her head tilted back to look at the tops of the trees as she bites at her lip to keep herself nice and quiet. Shauna doesn’t want to give you the satisfaction of hearing her moan.

But you can feel it in the way she holds herself, in the way she chases your tongue like it’s the only thing keeping her upright. Shauna can play games all she likes, but her satisfaction is undeniable as you flick your tongue across her clit. She whines, a choked sound that’s punished with the nails of one hand digging into your arm. You can feel blood slowly making its way down your arm, but you pay it no mind.

It’s almost like she can sense how cocky that reaction has made you, rising up on her knees and out of reach. You try to chase her again, because you never learn, to meet with no success once again.

“Nuh-uh,” she says mockingly, lightly–as far as Shauna is concerned–slapping your cheek. “I'll decide when you get to taste.”

Shauna hovers out of reach, reaching down to rub her thumb across the streaks of wetness on your cheeks. She brings it to your lips, looking pleased when you suck the tip of her thumb into your mouth. There’s something like delight in her eyes as she presses her thumb down against your tongue, holding it in place at the bottom of your mouth to feel the slick warmth of it before pulling her hand away again.

Is she seriously going to make you beg to get her off? You take one long look at Shauna, pulling lightly at her thighs.

“Please? Please, Shauna.”

You strain against her grip, anything to get her back into your mouth. You’re beyond pride. Making yourself look as pathetic as possible has worked for you so far, and it works again as Shauna lowers herself down to start riding your tongue.

She doesn’t even take a moment to get back into it, slipping back in place like she never left. You couldn’t care, not when she’s taking exactly what she wants from you. This is what you’ve wanted from her for months, and now it’s finally yours.

You can just barely make out the sounds of her chanting a name under her breath, over and over like a prayer. “Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, Jackie.”

It should sting, and part of it does, but you can live with having Jackie’s seconds. God knows it wasn’t the worst thing that’s happened to you out here. Besides, Jackie wasn’t the one beneath her right now. Wasn’t the one whose face she was riding. She may be imagining it was Jackie, but you’re still the one with your mouth on her.

You grip her thighs firmly, holding her in place as they start to quiver on either side of your head.

Shauna comes with a muffled grunt, biting at her hand to keep herself from calling out. She doesn’t want to come, doesn’t want her body to betray her in the way it so obviously is, but she can’t help herself. She’s so quiet you almost wouldn’t have noticed if not for the way her hips buck as she soaks your face.

Her hips slowly still as she rides out the last of it, panting quietly as her hands rest on either side of your head to hold herself up. After a moment, almost reluctantly, she swings one leg back over the other side of your head as she stumbles to her feet on unsteady legs. Shauna wipes the hand she’d rubbed across your face on her shirt, trying to get rid of the last evidence of your dalliance.

It would’ve been a smart idea if not for the way she covers the lower half of your face and smears the inside of her thighs. Shauna stares down at you as she picks the knife back up, twirling it idly in her hand before sighing.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” she says. There’s no bite to it, no real sting. She’s speaking the truth as plainly as she can manage it.

“Yeah, probably,” you agree.

Shauna laughs gruffly as she pulls her clothes back on. She sends you back sprawling into the dirt with a well-placed hand on your forehead as you start to sit forward, grinning at the shocked huff you make.

“Don’t follow me next time,” she warns.

You should say okay, which would be the acceptable thing to do. It’s clearly what she’s expecting you to say.

“What if I do?”

Shauna hesitates. “Find out.”

She walks away, leaving you dazed on the forest floor.

#minors dni #yellowjackets x reader #shauna shipman x reader

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gublerryswift · 2 days ago

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Museum meet cute | Spencer Reid x Reader

meet cute | fluff

In which you have your own meet cute in a museum visit

Warnings: None

Content: Reader meets spencer in a museum and he does a classic Reid ramble (she loves it, it's cute)

All the studying for your master’s degree was starting to get to you, the sleepless nights, the stress and one of the most draining: the lack of fun. You had never been one to spend weekends in parties and clubs, hating the crowded spaces and loud music, your type of fun consisted more of slow things like vising libraries, museums and expositions, but lately you couldn't even find time for those little things that brought you so much joy. Well, this ended tonight.

After sending what you hoped would be the last draft for your thesis, you decided you deserved to finally have some fun. You got ready in your favorite outfit, and stepped out the house, the first stop was your favorite coffee shop to grab a caramel macchiato before heading to your favorite museum. You had heard of this new exposition of a painter caller “Walter Sickert” that sounded fascinating and were excited to finally see it, as you walked into the exposition you were mesmerized by the beauty of the work there, never been one to totally understand art and all the meanings and references, but you always had a soft spot for it, a thing that captivated you to those paintings and sculptures.

As you walked into the exposition, the soft lights above the paintings, the faint sound of the surrounding conversations, it all made you feel at home, you noticed how much you had missed these places. One in particular caught your attention, a painting of a woman looking straight out, her gaze seemed lost and half of her face was not painted, you were intrigued by it and stood there trying to make understand what might be the history behind what you were seeing.

A couple of minutes later, you felt a presence beside you, you looked to the side and saw a tall man standing there dressed with a cardigan you internally wished were yours and these glasses that made him look like one of those philosophy professors, his hands inside his pockets also admiring the painting.

“Mesmerizing, isn't it?” He speaks, pulling you out of your thoughts. His voice is soft and quiet as to not disturb the other people in the gallery, you look over to him, a small smile forming on your lips as you nod.

"Absolutely." you reply. "There's something about this style of art that just catches my attention, it's so…" You drift off, trying to find the right words for how you were feeling

“Hauntingly beautiful” He completes your sentence, giving you a small shy smile that made your heart flutter

“Yeah, exactly that. I couldn't put it into words before”

You two fall in a comfortable silence, admiring the painting in front of you until he breaks the silence. “You know, some people believe that this artist was actually Jack the ripper”

Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, not expecting the random mention of a serial killer, “What, really? Why?” You turn to him, your genuinely curious expression seems to only fuel his excitement, he smiles and begins talking. The words roll out his mouth like he’d just been waiting for the moment to drop this.

“Some DNA analyzed from the letter jack sent to the police matched with the author's, also he has a series of paintings called 'Camden town murder’ which were made at the same time jack committed his crimes in the same town, also he is said to have worked in a studio that once was occupied by the ripper himself” You nod along and smile, being a sucker for true crime and history you really were interested in what this guy was saying, plus the speed in which he talked was perfect for your brain, and you found yourself immersed in his explanation.

“However” He lifts his pointer finger in a way that makes you hold back a giggle, god this man was cute – Why were you finding a man who was talking about a painter possibly being a killer cute? Maybe all the time inside your house made you lose your self-preservation skills. “Forensic scientists believe that most, if not all the letters sent to the police weren't actually sent by the killer, and all the other possible evidence is very circumstantial so the probability of him actually being jack the ripper is almost none, still an interesting hypothesis though.” He smiles and nods as he finishes his explanation, and he starts fidgeting with the strap of his satchel bag.

“Wow, that's actually really interesting, I would never imagine it” You smile at him “It's really impressing how you just know all that”

“Thank you, my brain is basically filled with a bunch of random facts just waiting to be said” He chuckles, and you notice a light blush showing up in his cheeks as he looks away from your gaze, going back to staring at the painting.

“I never got your name” You say, trying to keep the conversation going, you were drawn to him for some reason and didn't want to part ways so soon.

“I'm Spencer, and you are…” You tell him your name, smiling at him.

You were never the girl who would ask guys out or try their number, always being shy you were terrified of rejection, but right now you met this really cute guy who seemed so smart and was exactly your type, and you really didn't want to just leave it at this, so with a sudden courage you decide to take the plunge.

“You know, this museum has a really good coffee shop downstairs, would you like to go?” You smile at him, feeling your heart thump on your chest from the nervousness.

Spencer's eyes widen in surprise, but a warm smile spreads across his face as he nods eagerly, agreeing to your spontaneous invitation “Yes, I'd love to, maybe I can find more painter fun facts to tell you”

“Oh can't wait” you let out a giggle as you both start to walk out.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x y/n

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mrs-kmikaelson · 2 days ago

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helios

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x sunshine!reader Summary: Aaron thinks you're just about the most radiant person he's ever met. But then you fly too close to the sun, and all your light disappears. Warnings: grumpy x sunshine turned not sunshine, references to the greek myth of icarus and the sun god helios, graphic descriptions of violence, murder, mentions of abduction, heartbreak, complicated relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, unresolved trauma, aaron is a bit of a jerk (with reason) Words: 3.1K

Masterlist | icarus (part 1) | part 3

a/n: part 3 otw (don't kill me; we can talk about the next part of the grey area later)

When you first met Hotch, you knew he was wondering why you'd apply for the BAU. Most people wondered why you'd work for the Bureau in the first place. To make the world brighter, you'd thought.

But now your world was so dark that it made you wonder what the point of any of it was.

Did it matter if you helped some people? Did you really help anyone? You used to think so.

Now you were on the other side of the equation, and it didn't seem that way anymore. You weren't the agent, just the victim. And now you wondered—could you ever truly help anyone? Or were they all just dead the moment they were taken?

You never stayed long enough to see the aftermath, what happened to the victims after the unsub was apprehended. You now wished you did. Did this feeling ever go away?

It didn't feel like that right now.

Nonetheless, you still found yourself sitting at the BAU round table, coffee in hand in attempts to remedy your lack of sleep. It didn't help much, but it made you feel like you were doing something. Lately, everything in your life felt that way.

You sat across from Spencer, between Emily and Derek. They were talking about this movie they saw; Reid was arguing about innaccuracy and statistical probability. They invited you to go, too.

No thanks, guys. I'm busy this weekend. You didn't elaborate further.

You remembered the look of disappointment that washed over Spencer's face, but he covered it with a smile. You reciprocated it the best you could.

Smiling felt harder.

"Hey, Y/L/N, you listening?"

You blinked, turning to see Morgan looking at you expectantly. "Sorry. What?"

"I said, drinks. After this case. It's all on the old man's tab." Rossi made a sound of protest in the background, but Morgan barely glanced his way, keeping his eyes on you. "You in?"

Your mouth opened, but you didn't know what to say. You were running out of excuses. This felt like a test—

"Let's start the briefing."

At Hotch's entrance to the room, you felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders despite the air somehow getting heavier. You trained your eyes on the screen, relieved that you wouldn't have to answer.

JJ started, "Baltimore's seen a series of child abductions over the past few months. Jimmy Porter was abducted from the mall a week ago." She clicked to the next slide. "His body was found dumped by the harbor 2 days ago."

Diving into profiler mode, you tilted your head at the picture. "Dumped is a nice way of putting it," you commented. "The positioning shows an ample amount of remorse."

"And he dumped the body where it could easily be found," Hotch built off your point. He usually did that. It almost felt like things were normal between you.

Please, Y/N.

You cleared your throat. "Have the other bodies ever been found?"

JJ sighed, automatically indicating you wouldn't like her answer. "Baltimore PD is sweeping the water as we speak." She clicked to the next slide. "Last night, Max Campbell was taken from his home while his parents were asleep."

Derek sat up straighter. "That's a hell of a risk to take."

"To go from abducting from common hunting grounds like a mall to one's own home is extremely unlikely. It shows an immense jump in confidence and victimology, going from victims of opportunity to a specific victim in a specific location," Reid said, making gestures with his hands.

You tipped your head in his direction. "There must be something specific about Max Campbell that made the unsub take him without even cooling off."

Hotch nodded, agreeing. "We'll discuss this further on the jet. Wheels up in 30."

You all stood up, grabbing your things. You were about to leave the room when Hotch called your name.

"Y/N." You turned back, seeing his soft expression that was simultaneously devoid of emotion. "Could I speak to you for a moment, please?"

No. Whatever he wanted to talk about could wait. He already got his fill the night before. You had nothing more to talk about.

But you couldn't say that. You'd already said too much. So, you reluctantly nodded, waiting for everyone to file out of the room and ignoring the glances they shared.

Rossi closed the door on his way out, like he could anticipate that you wouldn't want anyone to hear this conversation. You didn't know if you wanted to thank him for it or be angry at the assumption.

Most of your feelings were torn between extremes.

Sadness and anger.

Relief and intensity.

And as you stared at Aaron, standing there with stiff arms, hate and love.

He started slowly as if he was pacifying an unpredictable animal. "Y/N... I would like you to stay with Garcia for this case."

You involuntarily recoiled, shocked at the notion. If he was ashamed, he didn't show it. You scoffed. "What?" He opened his mouth, but you didn't let him get a word in, taking a step forward. "Hotch, that's ridiculous. Child offenders are my specialty. Are you seriously taking me off this case?"

"I'm not taking you off the case," he reasoned. "You'll be more help here—"

"How?" A look of offense crossed his face, but you couldn't care less. Maybe you would've been more scared to go against Hotch before, but this was now. He'd never suggested something so ludicrous.

Emily called you yin and yang, two sides of the same coin. He trusted you on all fronts. This didn't feel like trust.

It felt like punishment.

Hotch's eyes hardened, giving you a look you'd never seen directed at you before. "Agent Y/L/N, as your unit chief, I am ordering you to stay here. Your input is valued; you will still contribute. But effective immediately, you will not be joining us in the field until a psychological evaluation deems you fit."

Another scoff left you. "Psychological evaluation? That's what this is about? All because I wouldn't fucking talk to you—"

"Watch your tone—"

"You have my doctor's note. I am physically and mentally capable for this job. You are not a licensed psychologist—"

His voice raised as he cut you off. "I reserve the right to make decisions about the agents on my team." He gave you one final once-over, like he was daring you to say another word, give him a reason to do something more drastic. You clenched your jaw, holding back all the words you wanted to let flow. That seemed to satisfy him enough. "You will stay here. End of discussion."

Hotch grabbed his briefcase and promptly left the room, not sparing you another glance as you just stood there, left once again by Aaron Hotchner.

Yin and yang, Emily had said. It almost made you laugh. The coin was flipped.

He was leaving you in the shadows.

—

Derek passed by your desk as you were grabbing your things, getting ready to go to Penelope's bat cave. He raised a brow at you. "Hey, where's your go bag?"

Without meaning to, you sighed, immediately regretting it when you saw the smile on his face falter. "Sorry, I'm—" not mad at you, "I'm not coming. Bossman's orders." You threw in a smile, trying to smooth things over, but it came out more sarcastic than anything.

He stared at you in silence for a few seconds with that same look that everyone had been giving you since you came back. The same way you'd look at a pressure-activated bomb. Careful not to move too fast, press too hard, press in the wrong areas.

Derek seemed to decide that whatever he was thinking was worth saying. "Kid, you know he just wants what's best for you." Kid.

Were you not grown up now?

You pursed your lips before responding, "Yeah." It was sure as hell hard to see it that way when you were being benched, punished for something that wasn't your fault.

You couldn't help but think that Hotch would never do this to Derek. Or anyone, for that matter. It was just you.

Morgan sighed, but he left it at that, sensing the cut was too fresh. His eyes travelled lower. Silence again.

You knew what he was looking at. You resisted the urge to cover your stomach.

"Does—" he hesitated. Derek Morgan never hesitated. "Does it still hurt?"

You sharply inhaled. The scars had two months to heal. Sometimes, you could still feel the knife ripping into your body. Once. Twice. Three times.

You could feel it most times, actually.

The medications could get rid of the pain, but they couldn't get rid of the sensation of that knife in your body. Sometimes, you thought nothing ever would.

"I'm told it doesn't hurt anymore than it should," you said. Whatever that meant. Apparently, you were in pain paradise. This is the spot you want to be at, you doctor told you.

You didn't call bullshit when he said that, but Morgan looked like he might do it for you in real time.

He opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off by Emily.

"Are you guys coming?" Right after she spoke, her eyes darted between you both, asking you a different question with her eyes. Am I interrupting something?

You shook your head, giving her a smile that looked more practiced. No, you're not. "No, I'm not coming. I'll see you guys when you get back." You dodged any more questions by quickly turning around. Morgan could explain it to her if she asked. You didn't feel like answering any more questions, being treated like a ticking time bomb.

You just wanted things to go back to normal. Once they started treating you like they did before, then you could be the same as you were before.

You're not the same, Y/N.

Nothing was.

—

Penelope couldn't get through to you. You were quiet all day except to share your theories. The next day was the same. And the next. And the next. Until the bastard was caught.

Max Campbell was rescued. You weren't there to see it, but you wondered if it really made a difference. He was just a boy, so full of light.

Would that light ever come back to him?

You exhaled, running your hand over your face. Even though you stayed home, you were exhausted. You didn't sleep more than an hour at a time, but that wasn't much different from your new routine.

You were starting to see more of the moon than the sun.

When the team returned, you greeted them all with smiles. There, just like before. The only difference was that you didn't talk to Hotch.

He glanced at you, wordlessly telling you to talk to him, but you weren't gonna do that.

Rossi noticed the lack of communication between you. Everyone did, but he was the only one who'd say something about it.

Stirring his coffee in the break room, he started, "Aaron is... stubborn. But he's extra hardheaded for the people that he loves." Loves.

Your hand stilled halfway to grabbing the coffee pot, but you recovered quickly, grabbing it and pouring yourself a cup. You glanced side to side, checking to see if anyone was around to hear him and whatever he was implying.

When you found no one else, you replied, "Okay." You weren't going to dignify that claim with any other response.

You knew Aaron cared about you; you'd be a shitty profiler not to know that. But love was a strong word.

Love didn't leave you all alone when you begged it to stay. Love didn't stay away from you while you were lying in a hospital bed. Love didn't interrogate you and make you sit on the sidelines when you didn't answer its questions. Love didn't make you feel so cold when all you wanted was to feel warm.

Rossi stopped pretending to pay attention to his coffee. You didn't meet his eyes. "Bellissima, you're going to have to talk to him eventually."

"Can you pass the creamer, please?"

"No." Finally, you looked up, meeting Rossi's passionate gaze. "It gets worse before it gets better. You have to let that happen."

You clenched your fists, digging your nails into your palms. You didn't see how it could possibly get worse than this.

"You know, I don't really think I want this coffee anymore." You left the mug on the counter, exiting the break room and leaving the conversation altogether.

—

"Hotch, please. The case is right here—"

"No."

"Come on, I'll be right by your side the whole time," you argued. A new case came in, just over in Montclair, and you were trying to negotiate your way into it. Two cases had passed where he made you stay in Quantico. It was becoming nonsensical.

You thought he'd crack by now, but he remained firm in his resolve, refusing to let you in the field until you talked about what happened. And "talking about it" was something you didn't want to do, much less with him.

His gaze had more heat than the sun outside. You could tell he was contemplating it. Even he must've been able to see how absurd this was, holding you back from your work when he wouldn't do the same to anyone else.

When it was him on the other side of this, he came back to work. He went into the field 30 days after being stabbed nine times. You only endured a third of that.

You thought back to that day. You'd rushed to the hospital and didn't leave his side. You visited him every day, keeping him company and updating him on your cases. You never iced him out the way he was isolating you right now. You never avoided him when you knew he was hurting.

If you talked to him—if you had that conversation—then that's what you'd say. You'd end up saying something foolish about the things you felt, feelings he wouldn't reciprocate. You'd reopen wounds you were desperately trying to close.

So you wouldn't.

You didn't say a word of what you were really thinking, sticking to the script. Please let me go. I'll be fine. I'll stay by you.

Eventually, he made up his mind. "Fine."

You could've nearly smiled.

—

The case finished speedily. You captured the unsub and found the girl just in time. Happily ever after.

Hotch didn't seem to think so.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the sixth floor, he was storming past you all, his footsteps thunderous against the floor. Garcia's smile fell from her face when she saw.

Without turning back, he called, "Y/L/N. My office, now."

You rolled your eyes, following him and ignoring the looks your colleagues exchanged. They did that a lot, lately. But everyone stayed silent, electing not to make commentary. It was smart, not wanting to add fuel to the fire.

But you... you were the most fire you'd been in months. For the first time since what happened, you didn't feel cold. White hot anger coursed through your veins, lighting a fuse that no one could get rid of.

You slammed Hotch's door on your way in. He immediately turned to you, seething, "That was reckless and stupid—"

"It got the job done—"

He raised his voice. "You walked into the house alone, without backup—"

"I talked him down—"

"You could've died!"

"It wouldn't be the first time!" you snapped. Your chest heaved as if you'd just run a marathon, phantom pains in your abdomen supporting your words.

He glanced downward before meeting your eyes again. For a second, it was almost like you were looking at Aaron. It was almost like he was understanding.

You got quieter, but your voice was no less firm. "It certainly won't be the last."

And just like that, Aaron disappeared. No longer your friend. Back to the prosecutor, the unit chief who took your words as a challenge. His eyes narrowed. "Yes, it will be." It took you a moment to understand what he meant, but he soon made it very clear. "Your gun and your badge, now. You're suspended for the next two weeks."

You took a step backward as if his words were a slap in the face. "What?"

Hotch didn't lighten up, his face completely impassive. "You are a danger to yourself, and I cannot allow you into the field in good conscience." He held his hand out. "Gun. Badge. Now."

You echoed, "You're suspending me?"

"Yes."

An incredulous scoff left you. He was suspending you after everything? When he had done the same and worse?

He was allowed to use his judgement and keep things to himself, but the second you stepped out of line, he wanted to suspend you? You couldn't believe it. You wouldn't believe it.

In a split second, you made a snap decision. If he didn't want you here, then it wouldn't be on his terms.

You unholstered your gun and unpocketed your badge, shoving them in his chest as opposed to handing them to him. You didn't take your eyes off him once, maintaining your glare.

You hoped it burned.

"You're not suspending me," you rebutted, taking a step closer to him. Realization dawned on his face. "I quit."

Hotch's face morphed into something that almost looked like regret. You wouldn't stay long to savour it.

You spun on your heel, marching out of his office with him right behind you. The team, who no doubt heard small bits of your conversation, looked confused. You didn't stop for any of them.

"Y/N, this conversation isn't finished." He must've thought that'd get to you. His unit chief voice, big and loud. But your feet didn't stop moving.

With your back still turned to him, you retorted, "No, but I am."

You reached the elevator, pressing the ground floor and close button within seconds of each other. When the doors closed, Hotch's approaching figure was gone, replaced by your own reflection.

A shaky breath left you. The fluorescent lights in the elevator were blinding. It was brighter in there than it was anywhere else in the building. But when you got out to the parking lot, it was just dark.

Artificial lights. Not the sun.

They didn't last. They had switches; you could turn them off.

Your switch was flipped, too. For a second, you were hot and blazing, burning brighter than you'd ever burned before. But as soon as you left the building, that changed completely.

You were immersed in darkness.

And you were alone.

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snoopychris · 18 hours ago

Text

calm

in which... boxer!chris needs to calm down after a fight

warnings: mentions of fights, p in v, unprotected sex, cliche jokes, no use of y/n (cherry used instead)

“great fight as per usual chris.” his assistant speaks, clipboard in hand as her heels click against the floor. chris looks down at the small figure besides him, shrugging nonchalantly. “all in a days work, esme.” he points to a day on her very marked up calendar as they walk towards the buildings exit, tapping his finger over it a few times. “clear my schedule that day. it’s-”

“yes yes i know it’s a very important day for miss pie and you have to be there for her. it’s cleared.” she replies. there’s a moment of silence before she speaks again, her pen being tucked behind her ear. “a-and last on the docket is just… i was wondering if-” chris unlocks his car as he looks over at his assistant, pursing his lips into a thin line. he already knows what she’s gonna ask. of course he knows. what kind of boss would he be if he didn’t.

“yes, esmeralda you can have your birthday off.” the girl smiles as chris starts the car, waving her off with his hand. his drive home is quieter than usual, only filled by the song coming from his speakers. it’s a song you had suggested to him— Something, Somehow, Someday by Role Model— he sometimes felt like Tuckers voice calmed him down after a fight that he won. he’s not too sure why he remains so worked up after a fight, only keeping his cool to protect his image. his mind is telling him to just go straight home. that you’re busy right now. that he can just have an early night. that he’ll see you in the morning because the two of you had breakfast plans. his heart ignores him completely.

by the time he pulls into the small parking lot of your bakery, it’s 8:02 pm. your bakery— The Wishing Whisk— was one of the towns hidden gems. it was a small, cozy place on a corner with plants growing around the large brown door. chris had a key if it was locked, but it wasn’t tonight. not yet anyway. he shuts the door gently behind him, locking it to ensure that the night would remain safe and uninterrupted, no matter where it went. your soft voice came from the kitchen, filled with the same sugar that your treats were made with.

“oh my gosh! i’m so sorry but we’re actually closed for the night.” the voice gets louder as you walk towards the front of the shop, still distracted by the bowl and whisk you were holding. your face and apron were covered in flour and what chris assumes is cocoa powder. the small embroidery of the cartoon beagle cookies that had become your speciality completely gone due to the powered covering your form from basically head to toe. “i’m forgetful and sometimes don’t lock the door but i- oh. it’s just you!” you smile, pressing a peck to chris’ lips. he hums in joy as your lips meet his, lingering for more of your touch. “did you text me? i’m sorry… i’m slammed tonight. well… not really i just… have to make about… 5 dozen more cookies before i can go upstairs.”

his gaze remains set on yours, the welcoming smell of all of your sweets filling his nose. “y’got some extra? maybe just some extra cookie dough or something?” chris asks, walking past your coffee bar area to the large kitchen. there were cookies scattered all over, one of your mixing stands was still going, and the oven had a timer set for whatever was in there. you giggle at your boyfriends actions, slapping his chest gently when he sits on the counter. “food safety regulations. get off!” you giggle, trying to move him. he wasn’t going to budge. he was a lot heavier than you were due to the nature of his career. he simply shakes his head, poking the tip of your nose with his thumb. “y’re covered in flour you know” you shrug as you begin mixing another batch of cookies in a separate bowl, handing the previous bowl to your boyfriend. “hold that”

chris complies without hesitation, his feet restlessly kicking against your counter. “can you give me attention for just five minutes?” he pouts, stirring slightly in his spot. you glance over at him when the oven timer beeps, taking the cookies out of the oven. this batch in particular was a red velvet sandwich, the filling for which was going in the mixer. you set them on the nearest cooling rack, popping in the next batch of cookies and setting the typical 13 minute timer.

“those are brown butter chocolate chip, i recognize those anywhere! i thought you said that you were only doing your specialty cookies with all the designs and patterns and stuff” the genuine curiosity in his voice makes you giggle, pressing a small kiss to his lips with your hands moving to sit on his knees. “yeah? y’listen to to me that much?” he hums as he pulls you in for another kiss, setting the bowl that was previously on his lap off to the side. his lips taste just slightly metallic— a hint of dried blood from his earlier fight still lingering. you pull away after a few moments of feverish kissing, looking around your insanely messy kitchen. “i don’t have time for this right now chris, i’m sorry.” he frowns when you pull away, watching as you look around the kitchen for your next steps.

you stop the mixer that has your cream cheese frosting, placing it into a piping bag before you grab one of the chocolate-red cookies and piping a thin layer of cream cheese on it. “do you think that’s enough filling?” you whisper, spinning the edge of the cookie in the matching sprinkle topping. chris hums from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist as he pulls you against him. “mhmmmm. looks great. now lemme give you some filling, ma please.” you groan at his words as you reach for another cookie, repeating your actions but halting when you feel chris’ hardening dick against your thigh. “fine but you’re doing all the work and i’m gonna keep… wo-orking.” by the time you’re done speaking, chris and his greedy fingers have found their way towards your sheer tights, ripping a hole in the middle for easy access.

“chris.” chris can’t tell if you’re scolding him for ripping your tights or begging him for more. he peppers kisses along your neck as a way to fill some time while he’s waiting for your answer. when you tilt your head for him to have more room to mark you up, he knows it was begging. his hand sneaks behind your neck to sit in front of your mouth, his way of asking you to spit on it. you comply as chris slips his shorts and underwear down to his ankles, rubbing himself a few times with the spit on his hand. “atta girl… been thinkin about you all day.” he whispers, slipping into you slowly. your eyes squeeze shut for a moment, placing another finished cookie on the plate next to you. there’s 3 cookies done when normally you would have eight done in the short time span. “that feel good, ma? y’doin so good workin on your little cookies… wish you could see what i’m seein. swallowing me whole… ‘s like you were made for me.” his thrusts are rough and shallow, being more for his pleasure then yours right now. “keep working on your cookies… i gotcha…” he whispers, your whimpers growing louder.

in an attempts for more attention, you begin to push yourself back against chris, setting down your piping bag and pushing your cookies off to the side. chris’ grip on your waist tightens, pulling you against him harder. “chris… mph fuck please! please please…” you whine, burying your head into the crook of your elbow. chris grips onto your hair, pulling your face to look at him. “you’re doin so so good… y’probably taste sweeter than these cookies… y’try em? you try your sweets?” he asks, moving to grab onto one of your baked goods. he moves it towards your mouth, smirking when you hesitantly take a bite. “how’s that?” he whispers, his voice full of lust. “good… good it’s good.” “yeah? s’good? you rather eat your cookies or have me cum inside you? hmmm pretty girl?”

“i-um… mph.. oh my god! c-cum inside me please oh my fucking god.” you whimper, letting your orgasm take over your body. as you begin to squirm and squeeze around chris, the cookie in your hands begins to fall apart with the sheer amount of force you’re squeezing with in order to stable yourself. chris groans at the sight, releasing the spurts of his cum deep inside you. it’s a feeling he could never get sick of. he stays nestled inside you for a minute or two, only pulling out when your oven timer beeps. your legs are too wobbly to move, so chris does your job for you. you giggle as he grabs an oven mit and sets the cookies on their cooling rack, practically drooling as he grabs a towel to clean you off.

“those are for you.” you whisper, beginning to clean yourself off. you was your hands shortly afterwards, beginning to work on your cookies once more. chris’ eyes widen like a kid in a candy store, eying the chocolate chip cookies on the tray. “for me? you’re too good for me. how’d you know i was comin, cherry?” you smile as you grab another piping bag, preparing to work on a completely different batch of cookie decorating. “you always stop by after a fight. just thought i’d make you something if i was gonna be makin cookies. now wash your hands and get to cutting that dough that’s close to the fridge. snoopys and charlie browns.” chris chuckles, nodding as he begins cutting out the shapes into the brown cookie dough. his glances keep moving over to you, admiring the sight in front of him. when he sees you smile at him, doing what you love so much, and suddenly he’s calm.

tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @mattsbratt333 @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslu @bluessturniolo @courta13 @sturns-mermaid @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @emely9274 @princessesgarden @marrykisskilled @cykss @riasturns @jetaimevous @whore4mattsturniolo @camzeecorner @sturniolosymphony @ribbonlovergirl @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @lovergirl4gracieabrams @loverboysturn @muwapsturniolo @bernardsbendystraws @bambisturns

a/n: haiii guys i love u all so so much like truly also if it wasnt clear and cheesy enough... readers name in this au is basically.. cherry pie... also rose made the dividers! finding dividers for this was actually so hard.

#⋆˙⟡snoopychris #⋆˙⟡chris!#⋆˙⟡boxer!chris #⋆˙⟡baker!reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo angst #chris sturniolo au

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imaginationbeyondreality · 2 days ago

Text

It’s 1:25 am, been caffeine-free for a week now, and still I’m wide awake.

I should have done fellowship after I passed the diplomate exam. Looking back, I do not know why I was so adamant in not going into fellowship. I wasted my time, a part of me voices that. Had I done it back then, I’m finished by now and prolly finished also the return service.

I should have opened my own clinic. Since I did not go into fellowship, I should have done it. But for whatever reason I’ve been telling myself, I did not. Well, to be honest, the thought of it failing is actually eating me up. But, hey! I really need to do it.

She told me the other party was hired because I was late. And maybe because there are times I am indeed late, I felt guilty. But hey! It’s the other way around. I was hired after her. And it pisses me off. Why wasn’t I thinking properly that time. I should have told her that it’s the other way around. I was hired because she is late. I should have told her that, technically, it is not late based on the contract we signed. I should have told her that they should not be having unreasonable demands. I do not work solely for them. I cannot fathom why I wasn’t able to say those things. It makes me hate myself. Ugh!

How do I actually say to someone, no. That I do not like it. That I do not feel comfortable. I dunno. I just thought she should be picking it up. But sadly, she is not.

I wish to be rich. Rich to the point that I would not be worried when I spoil my family. Makes me think I should have taken more jobs. I should have looked for opportunities. But I did not. I chose to settle here and it’s for one thing… convenience.

It’s been so long. And when I opened my account, this is the first thing I saw. Indeed, Allah SWT’s plan is always better. This will get better. I will get better.

And this is the next thing I read.

I should not really be drowning my self into worrying. So, yeah! I’m calling it a night.

#late night #musings #3

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corazondebeskar-reads · 3 days ago

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of rage and ruin - chapter ten

chapter ten

series masterlist | prev chapter | next chapter

werewolf!alpha!Joel Miller x f!omega!reader

word count: 5.6k

summary: joel faces his inability to protect you.

chapter warnings: dark, dead dove do not eat, a/b/o, alpha/omega dynamics, omegaverse, captivity, canon-typical violence, genre-typical violence, horror themes, graphic violence, abuse by captors (not by either joel or reader), body horror, viewer discretion is advised, p in v, oral, torture

also on ao3

dividers by @saradika-graphics

Tommy Miller is a changed man.

Four and a half years of scouring the midwest will do that to someone.

So will being bitten by a toddler.

Well. Probably not just any toddler.

After Tommy had cajoled DJ into sinking his tiny teeth into Tommy’s bicep, Laura hadn’t spoken to him for three months. She refused his company at the door.

“I have spent years—years, Miller—teaching that boy that he cannot, under any circumstances, bite someone. Do you know how hard it is to convince a toddler not to bite? Do you?” Laura had berated him thoroughly, and shut the door in his face.

She’d forgiven him, after some nudging from Tess, and a couple special deals with Bill for some new shoes for the boys.

Even so, he’d never felt quite so alone before. There was a pull behind his ribs, an ache that said he could not give up.

“You really don’t feel any different?” Tess said cautiously, one night when all three adults were lounged on the worn leather couches in Laura’s cottage, passing a bottle of whiskey.

“Nah,” Tommy says. “Well, I do, but I can’t explain it. But I think I’m getting closer. I’ve got this feeling.”

Tess crooked a brow at him. “You got me brokering deals across the goddamn half of the country based on a feeling?”

“Ain’t like you’re getting nothin’ out of it,” he grumbled.

“I know what you mean,” Laura admitted. “I— when Peter died—” she, with a kindness he feels sick for accepting, doesn’t say 'when you shot my husband.' “I knew.”

“That’s freaky,” Tess says bluntly. “But alright. I’ll keep pressin’em for info.”

It was hard, though, to get real information out of anyone, when you can’t explain that the missing person in question may also be an 8-foot-tall fairytale monster.

There were rumors, though. Most of them turned out about as well as if he were looking for Bigfoot.

Tess spent less and less time in Boston, taking up Laura’s sofa. Tommy spent less and less time at Joel’s cabin, instead roaming the country for any sign of his brother. Sometimes, Tess would go with him, usually if she had secured a good trade at the same time.

But there was no sign of Joel.

Joel doesn’t let you out of his sight. He refuses to go out, even when they bring him to the ground with the shock collar.

“She goes with me,” he snarls.

Jim throws his hands in the air in frustration. They’ve tried… well, they’ve tried a lot of horrible things. You wish he would just go and stop getting hurt.

“Joel,” you plead for the nth time.

“Look at it this way,” Jim leers. “You either go and risk her getting hurt. Or you refuse and guarantee it.”

Joel wolfs out for the nth time, and horribly, you share a look with Cheryl.

“For fuck’s sake,” she says, finally breaking her uncharacteristic silence. “He wants to bring the girl? Fine. We’ll bring her.”

Her words are not a comfort. There is no promise of safety. But truth be told, not that you’ll voice it after all this, not that you’d ever disagree with Joel in front of them, but the verdict is a tightening noose.

To you, the threat is gone. You helped him pick the threat out of his teeth. The two brothers were an anomaly; none of these people have any loyalty to one another. The status quo works right now, but at the slightest tip of the ship, that ends. No one is coming after you because of Mike.

Joel had furrowed his brows, shaking his head with a glower. “That’s what we thought about Mike. Ain’t riskin’ it, darlin’. And that’s final.”

He hadn’t used his alpha voice, but you had felt compelled to shut up anyway. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe it was the way his jaw was set tight. You reached up, one hand against his cheek, thumb brushing his beard. “Okay,” you capitulate.

He almost bristles at the coddling, but the rigidity leaves him in a heaving sigh, and he allows himself a moment to lean into your gentle touch. His hand covers yours, trapping it there.

“Atta girl,” he mumbled, drawing your palm to his lips for a kiss.

Now that it was happening, though? He smells the acrid citrus disinfectant of your fear as it curls into guilt in his lungs.

Not that he can do anything to help. He stands, hands through the bars, as they shackle him. He waits, brow twitching, as they fit the muzzle around his snout. Two of the lackeys push him against the cinder block wall outside your room, twin prongs jabbing against the furry expanse of his chest. It heaves with his heavy pants, eyes darting between his would-be guards and where you’re similarly being bound.

Jim bitches. Of course he does. He bitches the whole time they begin the march to the surface, to the wild.

They shove you in the van behind Joel, and he uses his great, hairy body to catch you, huffing and nudging until you manage to sit on his lap. Your hands are bound tight behind your back, tense lines of your body perched precariously, but the only other option is the floor.

The raiders are piled in around you. Well, most of them. Cheryl and her favored lackeys are in a pick-up truck following behind. Jim drives, ruling this operation as he does every other—with rigid, unwavering control. The others trapped with you in the cargo hull have guns or tasers, so clearly uncomfortable with sharing an enclosed tin can with the most dangerous creature they’ve ever known.

None of them look at you. It’s too careful to be coincidence. He’s made his point.

The Wolf doesn’t think it’s enough, so he growls every time someone so much as shifts in their seat.

It speaks to the danger that you don’t even think of making a Little Red Riding Hood or Three Little Pigs joke, though they do come to you later.

The raid is anticlimactic. The raiders mow down most of the other group. Joel disposes of the rest with neither pomp nor circumstance, just swift swipes of sharp claws.

They work methodically through the small house, loading the back of the pickup with their spoils. That takes far longer than the slaughter.

“Can I sit down?” you eventually ask Cheryl. Jim’s made her your keeper, since she made the call to drag you along.

“What the fuck do I care?” she snaps, examining a nail under the light of the moon.

So you sit on the porch and wait, hoping you don’t get a splinter in your ass.

Later, under the illusion of safety, you nestle into the circle of him, as you had in those earlier days. You tip your head back and bury your fingers in his fur, one hand petting and the other holding tight. He makes a sort of snuffly sound, inquisitive and wary.

“I’m still not scared of you,” you say, splitting the silent night. “I watched you eat a dude. Today was nothing.”

He rolls his eyes but settles back down, head resting on his misshapen arms.

When you wake, he’s more man than wolf. It’s been that way more and more often, now.

Joel cradles you the way he always does, like a child at the beach whose fistfuls of sand keep retreating with the waves. There’s a tender desperation to it that makes you ache. You can’t take it, pulling yourself close to him with his shoulders beneath your grasp, pressing your lips together as if the sweet sedative of his saliva could fix the rabbity seizing of your heart.

A twinge near your hip gives you pause, a creeping reminder of something that shouldn’t have been forgotten.

“Hey Joel,” you say slowly, drawing his eyebrows up, “you said the heats are for…”

He hears the word you can’t force from your mouth. As his fingers continue their steady rhythm, the soothing back-and-forth against your temple, he douses your worry.

“‘m shootin’ blanks, darlin’,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your neck, not pursuing anything, but luxuriating in the moment.

You shouldn’t laugh, but you snort anyway. “You’re telling me that you’re… fixed ?” you tease. Any self-control you had before doesn’t seem to have survived him.

He pulls away from his lazy kisses to scowl at you. “Shut up,” he grumbles, though there’s no mistaking the twitch of his lips as you grin.

“I’m right,” you say, squealing as he nips at your neck in retaliation.

“Ha ha,” he says, deadpan with a wry twist of his lips. “I get it. Like a dog. You gotta get some new jokes.”

“No, I’m good; these are still funny,” you say, wrapping one hand around the nape of his neck and trying to tug him back to his affections.

“I’m serious, though,” he says, somehow settling the little bubbles that crept up your throat. “Got snipped a long time ago.”

It’s an answer that asks questions. You don’t give them a voice. Not why, not when. You’re haunted by the thought of his past. My daughter loved that shit. It’s been weeks since he dropped that little tidbit, and neither of you have dug it back up. He sees the questions blooming in your eyes even as you snip them at the root, and shakes his head, so you follow a safer path of curiosity.

“What about the healing? What if it undid it? That’s a thing, right? Undoing vasectomies?”

“Thought about that, too. But none of my other scars or injuries from before went away. Why would that?”

He sounds so casually confident, and you can’t really disagree. “So you’re saying I won myself a sweepstakes from Little Debbie?”

He closes his eyes for a moment before looking skyward. “What’re you on about now?”

“A lifetime supply of creampies,” you say seriously, but it doesn’t hold, and you bury your laughter in his arm.

“You’re an idiot,” he says flatly, shaking his head. “And those are oatmeal cream pies, you pervert.”

It just makes you laugh harder. “I’m your little toaster strudel.”

He groans. “Wrong. Icin’ goes on the top of those.”

“Says the man who literally rubbed his jizz over my tits.”

“Alright, time for you to be quiet,” he says, covering your mouth with his hand only to snatch it back when you bite. “Now who’s the fuckin’ dog?” he mutters.

“Aw, giving up?” you say as he rises on his haunches, still looming over you.

“Nope,” he pops the p as his smirk grows. “Got a better way t’shut you up.”

The thing about him being nude all the time is that you’re hyper-aware of the status of his cock, like, all the time. It’s been half-mast for the last hour, but it’s paying full attention now.

“Guess I’m just as much of a dog as you. Got me over here like Pavlov.”

“Pavlov was the scientist,” Joel says absently, stroking his cock and scooting closer to where you’re sitting up in anticipation.

“S’there a way to shut you up?” But you don’t need to ask. You cut off his retort by taking the tip of his cock between your lips and sucking hard.

His words become a strangled whimper and you pull off with a lewd pop. “Oh yeah,” you say, “like that.”

Before he can muster up another snarky comment, you take his balls in one hand, rubbing your thumb over them to make his hips jerk a little. His hands don’t stay off you for long, but he doesn’t try to push you around or rush you.

A sweet kiss to each, and he knows this’ll be over a lot sooner than he’d like.

But goddamn, will it be worth it.

You groan at the velvety feel of his wrinkled sac, which grows more and more taut as you adorn it with little kitten licks, nuzzling your cheek against it. His oaky bourbon musk has a sharp edge to it that makes you a little dizzy. With a single-minded focus, your hands curl around the backs of his thighs, a soft sigh ruffling the coarse hair.

You pause to pick one of said hairs from your teeth and go back in for more.

His hand rests on your head, and he gazes down at you, his eyes dark like the underbelly of a cloud grown heavy with a brewing storm. The wiry tuft of his pubes copies his scruffy beard, though the former is far less salt than salt-and-pepper. The hard line of his cock presses against your cheek, the slip of his foreskin smooth. It leaves a trail behind when you pull away, though you can’t help but lean back in and kiss the rest from the tip.

He does the unthinkable in that moment.

He steps back.

You look up sharply, catching yourself with an oof. “Wha—”

He doesn’t even let you finish wondering. He grabs you, both palms smothering your hips, and rolls you onto your stomach. It’s not a display of his brute strength, but instead of the thrall you don’t like to admit to being under. The slightest pressure from his urging has you rolling over.

“Need t’be inside you,” he grunts.

“You were, ” you protest with no protest.

He shuts you up much more efficiently by the intensity of his grip on your hips as he pushes into you. His impatience finds his cock buried in the depths of your cunt and his teeth buried in the shallows of your shoulder. He rests on his elbows with your upper body trapped between them.

The breath leaves you in a whine, air forced from your lungs under the pressure of his bulk on you.

“Oh,” is all you can muster.

He nips at your ear in response, laving his kisses and tongue down your neck, bringing his teeth back up to the line of your jaw.

It’s so much. You’re overwhelmed by him, by the way something in you sings at the weight pinning you to the cold floor, sweater rucked up about your waist. There’s nowhere to go, nowhere to turn that isn’t Joel, and it’s bliss. White static and the pounding of his hips against your ass consume you. Your gasps and grunts and moans come from somewhere in the distance, not quite underwater, but only because his are rough in your ear, keeping you afloat.

He runs hot, hotter than any man you’ve lain with before, and it’s not long before sweat slicks between your bodies, dripping down from his brow. You’ve given up all illusion of being an active participant, instead laying your cheek against the cool ground and letting your eyes close.

The angle is divine. Each rock of his hips grants you the tiniest bit of friction, but it ends up being all you need. He makes you come once, twice, three exhausting times before he allows himself to take what he needs, fucking down into you mercilessly.

You only get to delight in the sensation of his cock twitching, of the bursts of his cum inside, for a moment before he’s pulling out to spill the rest across your ass.

When he pulls out, he slides off you to the side, but keeps you pinned with a leg and arm over you. If you weren’t so sated, floating your way down from the exquisite high, you’d roll your eyes. He’s letting it dry; of course he is.

He nudges you with his nose, and you turn your head to catch his eyes. They’re as tired and pleased as yours, but something cheeky lurks there. He doesn’t make you wait long for it.

“There," he says with a slap to your ass. "Now You’re a cream pie Toaster Strudel. Happy?” He's deadpan with flat brows and a scowl.

You laugh, lighter than you’ve been in a long time. It almost sobers you—the realization that you are. You may not be happy with your living conditions and dangerous circumstances. But you’re… you’re happy with him.

“Oh, you’re a pastry chef now?” You tease before pressing a kiss to his prickly cheek. “Yeah. M’happy.”

He stiffens at the way your voice goes so soft. So fond. It’s undeniable—the very thing he feared the most coming to full bloom before his eyes.

But what was he to do? This wretched world that always takes, always, never gives, it had given him you. And he’s too damn selfish to care anymore. There’s the imprint of concern, a triplicate carbon copy—barely indented, barely visible.

But more than that, it’s a facsimile. It’s the only thing that remains of the cautious voice warning him to keep a distance. To protect you from being hurt. To protect you from himself.

He can’t protect you from himself anymore. His hold on you turns, tightens like a corset around your ribs, and he watches in disbelief as you simply melt into it.

No fear. No flight. No fight. Just you, and him, here. Any energy he had earlier is sapped seems to leak out from his sigh, unfurling from the look in his eyes. If you didn’t know any better, you’d have called it fond.

Joel, though? Joel’d've called it something else.

The trips outdoors happen weekly. At least, you think so. Not that you know much about the passage of time beyond the phases of the moon. They skip the new moon since the Man isn’t useful. Everything is by-the-book, if there was such an awful thing, until the second full moon.

The Wolf Moon rises above the glittering snow, and all hell breaks loose in her glow.

The heavy, languid body sits huge on the horizon, commanding control. It’s hypnotic. You can’t really quite look away from the cold yellow, bigger than the sun and twice as potent.

You don’t even notice that you’ve started to move when she catches you.

Cheryl’s nails make little crescents in your shoulder, her face so close that her hot breath puffs into your ear. It’s an awful sensation, and you want no part of her in or on your body. But here you are, too afraid to do anything but take it.

“You’re just as mindless as he is,” she says with a breathless laugh.

You consider protesting, but she beats you to it.

“He doesn’t even know who he is. He’s got no control. Only obeys his master,” she says. Her fingers curl under your chin, grinding the soft flesh against your teeth as she forces you to look at Jim.

He’s got a girl by the throat. She can’t be more than fifteen. His gun sits in his hip holster, knife in his pocket. He doesn’t need a weapon. He has the Wolf.

A man who can’t be anyone but her father is pleading on his knees. You can’t hear anything, don’t know his crimes against Jim. But Jim kicks the man back with a boot against his chest and drops the girl unceremoniously to the ground.

He snaps his fingers and points. And the wolf lunges, teeth catching in the moonlight.

You don’t realize you’ve screamed until the whole clearing goes silent. He’s frozen, inches from the girl, but all his attention is on you.

“Don’t,” you whisper, and he recoils from her, standing on his warped legs and howling.

“You little bitch,” Cheryl hisses, her fingers dropping your chin in favor of your throat. There’s a fraction of a moment where the world pauses before the cacophony erupts.

Joel snarls, lunging for Cheryl. Jim hits the shock collar’s trigger. Joel stumbles, falls, and keeps moving.

It earns him a bullet to the leg. Jim never lets go of the button, and you scream as he convulses, bleeding profusely on the thick patch of grass.

It’s the last thing you see before everything goes dark.

When you wake up, you’re in the cage.

Outside the room.

Joel paces in front of the barred door, eyes never leaving you. A sigh billows out when he sees that you’re awake. He drops to his knees, reaches, and just barely grabs the bars before he pulls. The metal screeches something awful against the tile, but he can reach you now.

“Hey,” he urges, voice low and a little wrecked. “Tell me you’re okay. C’mon.”

“I’m okay,” you groan, but make no effort to sit up. You stare up at him, inverted as he is, half-obscured by the bars. “I miss Excedrin.”

He frowns, brows furrowed, but disregards your complaint. “Y’ain’t bleeding,” he says by way of comfort, though more for his benefit.

“No, just fuckin’... hurts,” you say, closing your eyes against the sickening flicker of the nearly-burnt bulb.

“That was real stupid,” he says. It lacks real bite, but it’s bloated with something worse than anger.

“We both lived. And that girl.”

Joel winces and looks away.

“No,” you say weakly.

“They shot ‘em all,” he says, the gravity of their fate dragging you down. “They never leave anyone alive.”

“No,” you repeat quietly. His words are the swing of an axe to your sternum.

He looks away. He’s always known you’re too soft, too good. Somehow free of dried blood under your fingernails all your life. He’s never asked, may never ask, how you ended up here. It’s not the thing to do.

Nobody talks about before.

“I know that ain’t what you want to hear,” he tries, but it’s disingenuous, placations like packing peanuts in their unwanted staticity and general ineffectiveness. The sound grates in his ears about the same, too.

“Sweetheart, listen t’me. Y’can’t interfere. They brought you here to get me to cooperate. If they think you’re a problem, they’re going to shoot you.”

It’s a sobering truth. “But—“ you whisper.

Joel isn’t having it. “I told you. I ain’t the man you think I am.” He swallows hard, and something shifts, his eyes gone cold and the set of his jaw hardening into a plaster mask. “I kill people. All the time, darlin’. Even before I got bit. It’s what a man like me has to do to survive and protect people I—” a pause, a catch in his throat—”my people. Do you understand?”

He hates the way apprehension settles your teeth into the soft bed of your lower lip. The way your gaze is unwavering, though the ache wafts like citronella, as if that could keep him at bay.

“I said, do you understand?” He repeats firmly. His words aren’t harsh, but they cut anyway. His hands on the bars rattle you a little, as if your dizzy brain needs more centrifugal motion.

“I don’t want to,” you hear yourself say as if underwater. You’ve never heard yourself sound quite so small.

“Goddamnit,” he growls, dropping his hands from you and rising to his feet in one smooth motion. “Goddamnit, can’t you see I’m tryin’? For fucks sake, just shut your eyes and don’t watch if that’s what you gotta do. But if you pull a stunt like that again, I can’t protect you. They will kill you.”

You draw your knees to your chest, tucked up against the corner. “I—I just—“

“You just nothing,” he snaps. “You need to listen t’me. Do what you’re told so I can keep you safe. Don’t you understand? Don’t you get it? I am not gonna let you get yourself killed because you can’t stomach what has to be done.”

Your throat closes, eyes squeezed shut tight.

He heaves a loud, grating sigh and covers his face with both hands, head tipping back.

A minute drags into five, and the only sound in the cell is your matching measured breaths. The thrum of his heartbeat from across the room. The silence fills with the buzz of your brain seeping out to your ears, the crackle of tinnitus, and just when you think you’re going to crack, he moves.

Joel crouches in front of you. “Hey,” he says gruffly, but with less bite. “Look at me,” he coaxes gently.

You want to bristle at being treated like a skittish horse, but instead, you acquiesce, taking in the lumbering shadow of him. You swallow hard, your heart lodged in your throat like gravel.

He sighs again, and closes his eyes for a moment before looking at you. Really, really looking. And he doesn’t like what he sees. As if your scent didn’t give it away. It’s different, somehow, seeing the fear stiffen your shoulders and pull you back from him like a hooked fish.

“It can’t be any other way,” he says. “I’m… I’m a bad man, a shitty person, and that’s mine to bear. I can’t shield you from it. I tried.” His voice croaks a little on the tail end. “And…” he makes sure you’re looking at him still, his hand slipping between the bars, catching your chin. His thumb brushes your lip as if he can rub the bite marks out. “And I ain’t sorry. Not if it keeps us alive.”

It’s strange, the way his words turn you inside out, and his touch puts you back. But you’re properly distracted from reading too much into it by footsteps clomping down the stairs.

The cage turns out to have been for dramatics. A red-headed man you’ve not seen before has shown up to haul you from it and dump you back in the room across the hall.

This time, Joel is quiet. He wants to snarl, to yell, to threaten. But he bites his tongue and lets it happen. It’s this or a bullet in your skull.

Instead, he paces the cell, near-sleepless. You can hear him at all hours of the day, the padding of his bare feet akin to the beat of his heart that usually lulls you to sleep. It’s a poor substitute, but you’ve learned to accept scraps.

They keep up their end of the bargain, though, and ten days later, they pull you from the locker room to ride along on the latest outing. This time, though, you’re stuck in the truck with Cheryl.

She turns sideways to regard you down the petite line of her nose. “Do I need to gag you?”

The question is drawled lazily, but her hand holding the switchblade as she cleans under her nails is anything but. The knife catches in the moonlight, the silver gleam a steady promise.

“No,” you mumble.

Nothing happens. She locks you in the truck, still bound. Sure, you might be able to reach the locks, but getting the door open is another story. And surely you’d fall on your face in the mud.

For a moment, Joel protests, but gives in. You’re safe in the truck, and he can still see you, still smell you, still hear your heart pulse through his eardrums as if it were his own.

You don’t watch, but you have to listen.

Nobody pays you any mind, which means you risk peeking into the bed of the truck. There are the expected supplies—rope, tools, and old sheets. But more importantly, much more importantly, a line of filled backpacks are tucked against the cab. Go bags. They have to be. There’s a bedroll on each, and you’d bet your sweater they’re full of supplies.

Oh, Jesus. Has your life really come to that? The only meaningful thing you have to wager against yourself is a sweater?

Fuck.

The bags live in the back of your mind, scurried away with the tidbits you’re collecting and trying to sweep into a pile vaguely resembling a plan.

It’s not going great, because Joel isn’t cooperating.

“You have to eat,” you plead.

His hands grip your shoulders, seizing onto you like it’ll make any damn difference. “I can't fucking take it anymore. Can't fuckin' sit by letting it happen,” he hisses.

“Joel,” you murmur, bringing your hands up to cup his warm, scruffy face. “Please. When the time is right, we’ll stop. But for now, please.”

He crumples, as he always does when you beg so sweetly. And he has to admit you’re right. This is not the way. There will be a time, but the new moon isn’t it. He can’t put you in danger by being weaker than ever.

He heaves a sigh and picks up a flank, rending the meat from the bone like he’s sectioning an orange. It should be disgusting, watching him eat raw, bloody flesh.

It should be.

Right?

You’re not sure anymore.

You’ve never been one for gratuitous displays of strength, but this… isn’t that. This is primal. It stirs behind your sternum, a possessive rumble that has him look up at you with an eyebrow raised. You shake your head and scrub at your face with both hands until it settles.

He gives a huff of approval, and then, capitulating to his belly that seemed to respond in kind to your growl, he shifts and does his magic trick, turning a huge stack of meat into a bloody tray.

When he stalks over to you after, he raises one thick, sharp-tipped finger in your face. “Don’t say it,” he warns.

You stifle a laugh. “Don’t say what?” you ask, all fluttering lashes and saccharine innocence.

“Don’t,” he says, but the sternness of his voice falters.

“Don’t ask if you’re ready for dessert?”

He groans, head dropping to your shoulder before sitting back on his haunches. “You’re not a very good listener,” he says. “Maybe we’ll skip dessert.” His eyes roll.

“What? No,” you say.

“Bad girls don’t get rewards,” he says, and to your mortification, you burn and squirm where he has you pinned with his hips.

He chuckles. “Aw, ya gonna pout now?”

“C’mon,” you whine. “It was just a joke. You wouldn’t be that mean.”

“I’m fixin’ to leave you high n’ dry.”

“ Joooooel,” you whine, and fix him with your best pleading eyes. “You’re not gonna take care of me?”

He twitches. “That ain’t fair.”

“But alpha—”

He cuts you off with a growl, yanking you by the hips and diving in. He holds you to the mattress with ease as you squirm and savor each stroke of his tongue, and doesn’t let go until he’s had his fill.

The days trickle, but it’s harder to abide them. You had taken this tentative peace for granted, before, unable—or perhaps unwilling—to see the veil. It’s still there, now, but you’re hyperaware of the shroud.

Gone are the lazy days of lounging and fucking and sucking. Gone are the luxurious cat-naps (dog-naps? wolf-naps? freak-of-nature-naps?), and you struggle to remember that you’re supposed to be figuring out a plan.

Joel doesn’t forget, though. Despite your argument, he’s eating less and less. He can’t stand the haze, can’t stand the complacency that stole nearly five years of his life.

At night, he broods and schemes.

“Next time, I want you to run,” he says.

“We’re not ready.”

“We’re gonna get you ready.”

You sit up in the darkness, your eyes as sharp as in the sunlight. “I’m not going without you.”

He growls. “Darlin’, you ain’t got a choice. You hear me? You get a chance? Take it. Swear to me.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

He shakes you a little roughly. “You will if you have to. Understand me? Swear it, omega.”

He knows you’re pissed. And maybe you’ll never forgive him, never trust him again after he’s done what he swore he’d never do. But you’ll be free.

“Yes, alpha, ” you grit out, teeth creaking with the strength of your clenched jaw. Your hands ball into fists, but there’s nowhere to direct your anger.

His mouth drags blunt teeth down your neck, and you snarl. He’s reminded just how much you’ve changed. How every day with him turns you more and more into the animal he makes you.

How much his bite has cost you.

“Tell me again,” he says gruffly as you give in to the insistent pressure of his claim and relax against him. He hates it, hates doing this to you when he knows on the inside you’re frothing and raging and burning.

But he holds you to him with that same fire and makes you repeat it. Over and over. Coordinates he could say in his sleep. The location of the key, the way to jimmy the back window loose if it’s gone.

And the name. Tommy. Tommy. Tommy.

Find Tommy.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

This was just a test run. An experiment to see if your newly-cleared brains (and viciously empty stomachs) welcomed back your sharp senses and survival skills. It wasn’t supposed to be the run.

You’re not ready. You have no supplies, no direction, no plan.

But it’s happening. It’s your chance, and you must take it. You hesitate long enough that the Wolf tips his head back and howls, urging you, and even though he speaks no words, your body must listen.

There’s no command, no compulsion. No, the howl is worse because it’s a plea.

You must run.

So you do.

Your heart pounds in sync with the beats of your bare feet against the forest floor. You don’t know where you’re going. You don’t know where you’ve been. The world blurs, not because you’re going fast enough but because of the unbidden tears pricking at your eyes, the pulse of fear and foreboding familiar.

Crack. Bark shatters to your right.

Crack. Dirt upturned inches from your left foot.

Crack. A yelp.

No. No.

They wouldn’t. They need him.

It becomes your mantra.

Each thud of your foot against the rotting leaves and hard-packed soil pounds with it. They wouldn’t. They need him. They wouldn’t. They need him.

The bullets stop; there’s no pursuit. You’re disposable.

Find Tommy.

Everything narrows to your path. To your feet and the way they carry you in turn, away from the angry yelling and howling and screams. Away from your prison and its guards. Away from your alpha— no. You can’t think like that. You’ll see him again.

You will.

Right?

dearest beloved readers, our story is coming to an end soon. it may be 2-3 more chapters including an epilogue. this particular chapter is one i'm v nervous about sharing since it's been our destination from the start. pls be niceys to me and i love you all, thank you so so much for reading.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #alpha!joel miller #alpha!joel miller x omega!reader #omegaverse fic #a/b/o fic #werewolf!joel #dead dove fic #fic: of rage and ruin #tlou fic #joel miller fic

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amourquinn · 1 day ago

Text

𝐇𝐔𝐆𝐆𝐘 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑 ; quinn hughes ( drabble )

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 528

genre : fluff long-distance relationship no warnings

summary : even miles away, you found a little something that makes the distance between you and quinn feel a little smaller

quinn was lying on his bed, his phone propped up against his pillow, watching you through the screen. facetime had become your thing—one of the only ways to make the distance feel bearable. no matter where he was, no matter how exhausted he felt after a game or a long practice, hearing your voice always made everything feel lighter.

you were curled up in your bed, wrapped in a blanket. the soft glow of your fairy lights made you look even prettier, and quinn found himself staring at you like he always did, like he was trying to memorize every detail of your face.

you had been talking about your days, bouncing between random stories and comfortable silence, when you suddenly perked up, a mischievous smile spreading across your lips.

“oh! i saw something today that reminded me of you,” you said, eyes shining.

quinn raised a brow. “yeah?”

you nodded. “wanna guess?”

quinn groaned, already knowing you were about to make this difficult. “y/n…”

you giggled, tucking your chin into your blanket. “come on, just one guess.”

he sighed, pretending to think. “uh… was it hockey-related?”

“nope.”

“something blue?”

you grinned. “yes.”

quinn narrowed his eyes. “wait, really?”

“mhmm.”

he studied you, trying to read your expression. “is it… a hoodie?”

your jaw dropped. “sort of… but how did you—?”

quinn smirked. “lucky guess.”

you shook your head, reaching off-screen for something, then held up a small stuffed teddy bear, its tiny body wrapped in a navy blue hoodie.

quinn blinked. his heart did something weird in his chest.

“it’s you,” you said simply, your voice softer now. “little teddy bear, little navy hoodie. the second i saw it, i was like, ‘yup. that’s my boyfriend. that’s quinn.’”

quinn swallowed, his fingers curling into his hoodie.

“that’s…” he cleared his throat, suddenly feeling warm. “that’s cute, y/n.”

you beamed, hugging the bear close to your chest. “i had to get it. now, whenever i miss you, i can just cuddle this little guy.”

quinn exhaled, shaking his head. “you’re unreal.”

you batted your lashes dramatically. “i try.”

“you don’t even have to.” his voice was quieter now, full of something he wasn’t sure how to put into words.

you seemed to understand anyway. you studied him for a moment, then murmured, “i wish you were here.”

quinn sighed, his fingers curling into his blanket. “me too, y/n.”

“do you think you’ll be able to come back to la soon?” you asked, tucking yourself deeper into your bed.

“i’m gonna try,” he promised. “as soon as i get a few days off.”

you smiled sleepily, still holding the teddy bear close. “good.”

quinn watched as your eyes grew heavier, your blinking slower. he loved this part—the way you always tried to fight sleep just to stay on the call a little longer.

“go to bed, beautiful,” he murmured.

you yawned. “only if you do too.”

“i will.”

neither of you hung up. you never did.

so quinn just stayed there, watching the love of his life slowly drift to sleep, a little navy blue teddy bear tucked against her heart—just like he always wanted to be.

#[ 📁 ] drabble #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fluff #nhl hockey #vancouver canucks

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lifeasadorkwithnolife · 19 hours ago

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Protect You

Word Count: 3200

Azriel has always gone out of his way to keep Y/N out of harms way, but Rhys sends her on a mission anyway.

-------

Azriel and you weren’t exactly on the best of terms, despite the fact that you had been a part of the inner circle for centuries- he rarely spoke to you. At first it really hurt your feelings, was it something you did? But after the years passed you learned that sometimes you can’t change a male’s opinion, no matter how many times you tried.

It was just another normal day at the house, you and Nessa were occupying chairs across from each other, reading in silence. Although your primary job was writing down Prythian’s true history, you still loved the library and reading all the books the house had to offer. You were never really adept for the front lines, no matter how much training Rhys put you through.

The library was aglow from the setting sun from the large windows, and you felt the warmth on your face as you read. You could honestly stay like this forever. You and Nessa had a unique friendship- despite her forceful resistance to joining the inner circle and stubbornness to admit that sometimes she was wrong, you two had gotten along well.

“Sometimes, I wonder if I will ever find a male like the ones we read about.” Nessa sighs, dropping the book in her lap. “They are just so…. In tune to their lovers’ feelings- I’ve personally never witnessed that before.”

“I’m sure there are some males like that.” You smiled, meeting her dark eyes. The thought of Cassian crossed your mind, and the love for her that he wore openly on his shoulder. “At least you have a few centuries to find it now.”

“Yes, thank the cauldron.” Nessa rolled her eyes, pulling her book back up to eye level. After a few moments, she lowered it to meet your eyes. “Have you talked to the shadow singer lately?”

Your eyebrows rose, and you set down your book, sitting up a bit. “You know me and Azriel don’t talk- what do you mean?”

You were right- you and Azriel did not talk, if anything, he actively avoided talking to you at every opportunity. “I just feel at times- that you two might be a good couple, but I could be wrong.”

“I promise you- you’re wrong. Azriel is the last person I could ever imagine being with.” You laughed, picking up your book. “I don’t believe he even has feelings- much less for me. But speaking of males- what about you and Cassian, have you ever thought about it?”

“I’ve definitely thought about Cassian, but I am not sharing those thoughts with you.” Nessa laughed, throwing a pillow towards you. “He’s insufferable, but I can’t help who I’m attracted to-“

“Y/N, the high lord has requested you.” You heard a deep voice behind you and nearly jumped out of your chair. Azriel was standing in the doorway, shadows slowly snaking up his arms. You had never seen him in this light, his skin was almost glowing, he was breathtaking. You froze in place, admiring the swirls of tattoos up his arms and leading into places that you wish you could see. Caldron, why couldn’t you control yourself. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, yes Az I heard you. Sorry, I’ll be right there.” You sighed, moving the blanket and getting up to slowly stretch. You had anticipated spending the whole day reading, so your outfit wasn’t exactly…. appropriate. You reached up to stretch, feeling the fabric of your shirt lift up past your navel. You heard the loud footsteps of the male walking away, and you sat back down.

“You are down so bad for him, Y/n.” Nessa muttered, “I don’t know who you’re lying to, but it’s definitely not me. You should have seen the way that male looked at you just now...like he's starving."

“I’m not lying to anyone- and I’ll be back as soon as I find out what our ‘high lord’ requests of me.” You laugh, throwing her pillow back and placing your bookmark. "And there is no way he looked at me like that, you've been reading too many of those books."

------------------------------------------------------------

“Would you feel comfortable going to the Spring Court?” Rhysand asks, tapping his finger against his chin as he stares at the excessively large map on the table. “I feel like it would really be helpful to get a sense of the…attitudes of the population there. I don’t feel like our high lord of the spring court is doing a great job with moral.”

“Of course, anything you need.” You replied, “When do you need me to go?”

“I was thinking today, if possible.” Rhys looked at you, “if that’s okay with you.”

You nodded, looking at the map. “It should only be a couple days- but you’re well known here. You should probably wear a disguise and make this as discreet as possible. The last thing I need is you getting caught.”

“I can handle that,” You smiled at Rhys, you two had been through so much over the years. When he went under the mountain, you were sure that you were going to lose your mind, Azriel and Cassian had lost theirs. “I promised you when you came back- I will do anything it takes to keep you here and keep Velaris safe.”

Rhys nods, then his head perks up. “Go pack your things.” You nodded, turning and leaving the room. After a quick walk down the hall, you remembered the book that you had left sitting on the desk. You quickly turned to grab it, but as you placed your hand on Rhysand’s door handle you heard the hush voices of Rhysand and Azriel.

“You cannot send her out there.” Azriel growled, his voice low. “We have spies for this very reason.”

“Y/N will be just fine Azriel, she’s a big girl and can handle herself.” Rhysand chuckled; you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“She’s going to get herself hurt out there, just let me handle it.” Azriel insisted, but Rhys didn’t reply. “it’s going to drive me crazy out, you know that right? Knowing that she’s out there in the spring court, and I’m stuck here and can’t do a thing about it? She’ll ruin everything!”

You shook your head, ire filling your veins. How dare he? You rarely, if ever, go on missions. Sure, you weren’t as strong as Cassian or Azriel, and sure, you weren’t as experienced at combat or using your powers as them, but you were still useful- especially at reading emotions. You hesitated, removing your hand from the handle, torn between throwing open the door and ripping Azriel a new one, or going back to your room to cry.

The decision was made for you when the door was opened, and Azriels dark eyes bore into yours. “Eavesdropping now?”

“Fuck you.” You spat, looking between him and Rhysand. “I know that you think I’m weak- that I’m incompetent, but I can assure you I’m not. I can handle myself just fine.”

“That’s not what I’m saying Y/N,” Azriel tried to interrupt, but you held up your hand.

“I’m going, and I’m not going to ruin anything okay? I will die before I ever let Tamlin get his hands on me or give up anything about this court. Despite the fact that you don’t seem to think I can handle myself.” He went to speak again, and you stopped him, “I’m packing my things, I just came back to grab this.” You stormed past him, grabbing your book off the desk.

An emotion quickly crossed Azriel’s face, which he quickly concealed. “You’re right- I don’t believe you can handle it. Just stay here in that little library with Nessa and I’ll get this handled. The first time danger comes your way- you won’t be able to handle it. Let me handle it.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “I’m glad I know how you truly feel Azriel, but I don’t care.” You walked away, storming down the hall, a middle finger pointing back at him.

--------------------------------------------------

The spring court was… and absolute disaster. The territory was chaos, fae ran rampant and there seemed to be no order- even Tamlin’s guard was nowhere to be found. You sat in the attic of one of the only buildings that wasn’t burnt down and wrote in a journal that you would be bringing back to Rhysand- hopefully all the details would help.

“Whos’ up there?” A gruff voice shouted, and you heard a loud bang as the floor from under you collapsed. You fell, crashing to the lower floor in a pile of hay. The breath left your lungs in a whoosh, and the pain from the fall echoed across your back. “Who are you? Why are you hiding?”

You couldn’t respond, still waiting for the breath in your lungs to return. “Who are you?” The man shouted, sending a kick towards your stomach. You rolled over, coughing up whatever air was left. A gasp escaped your mouth as you tried to breathe in whatever your lungs would allow.

The notebook was ripped from your hands, and the male started to read. You looked up at him through the haze of dust that floated around you due to the ceiling falling in, and although you could not read his facial expressions super clearly- you understood that you were screwed. You tried to quickly get up to make a run for it, but after one step you found that your ankle was severely bent in the wrong direction. The pain shot up your leg and you winced.

“Well well well…” The man stated, “I’m sure my high lord would love to see you, the friend of the high lord who stole his bride.”

You shook your head, but he pulled you up, and another male took your other arm. They tugged you out of the building, into the open clearing outside. Fae froze in their tracks, either holding baskets of vegetables, linens, or whatever else could be traded, they all froze to stare at you.

You tried to remember whatever moves Cassian had showed you, but with a bad ankle, even if you could get out of this hold, there would be nowhere to go. You couldn’t give up any information, that was just not an option. The words you had told Azriel only a few days before came back to you- you would rather end your life, than give away any information about the night court.

You knocked your head back, feeling the pang as your head hit the man in the lower jaw. His grip loosened ever so slightly, and you were able to turn and throw a punch at the first man, right in the eye. You felt the warmth around your hand and knew that you had severely injured him, possibly puncturing his eye. You tried to run, but your ankle wouldn’t allow it and you fell to the ground. The male came running back towards you, his eye shut and already swelling.

You took the knife out of your sack, knowing what you had to do, there was no way that you would win this fight. You held the knife out, aiming it towards your chest, when a gust of dark wind picked it up and tossed it aside.

One minute the men were coming towards you, the next they were backing away, hands in the air as they nearly tripped over themselves. You felt the air change around you, a familiar scent entering your nose, and you knew who it was- it was Azriel.

Two knives flew towards the men, entering each of their chest with no issue. You sighed, leaning back into the ground and placing your hands over your face, not being able to help the tears filing your eyes. You felt two strong hands pick you up, and start walking you towards the forest.

“Did Rhys send you out here?” You sniffled, not being able to help it. “Did he assume I couldn’t do it?”

“No, of course not.” Azriel replied, looking down at you, an expression you didn’t recognize on his face. “Please- don’t cry.”

“Don’t tell me what to.” You mumbled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hands. “Just take me home- please.”

Azriel nodded, winnowing you both back to the winter house.

--------------------------------------------------

Your ankle was healed, but you refused to leave your room. You told Nessa you just didn’t feel well, but it was the shame in the pit of your stomach that you had afraid to leave. Rhys sent you on a secret mission, once of the most basic missions he could have asked, and you still fucked it up. Azriel was right.

A knock sounded on the door, and you grumbled, turning over in bed. “Go away.” You mumbled, but the door opened anyways. “Nessa, please I’m not in the mood.”

The door shut, and you turned to see… Azriel standing in the doorway. He had a book in one hand and a glass in the other, filled with water. “Are you here to rub it in? To tell me you were right?” You turned back over, slumping in bed.

You felt the end of the bed sink as he sat, and placed the book and water on your nightstand, the book that you were reading when Rhys sent you off. “Y/n- I just want to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You whispered, staring at the setting sun outside the window. “You have had literal centuries to talk to me, but you haven’t, what’s changed?”

“I came to say I’m sorry.” Azriel sighed, “I’m not very good at admitting that I’m wrong, but it’s something I’m working on.”

“No Azriel, you weren’t wrong.” Tears stung your eyes again, and you sat up to face him. “You’re never wrong, and that’s the problem. You said I couldn’t handle it, you said I would ruin everything, and I did.”

“No, you didn’t.” Azriel grabbed your hand, squeezing it. You froze, you had always wanted to feel him like this, always wanted to grab his hand, but had always been too scared- he would have never had welcomed it. “I need to be honest with you, and I’m going to say this once. You can reject me or push me away and I will never ask again- but please just hear me out now.”

“Fine.” You whispered, wiping the tear from your eye. He stared earnestly at you, his eyes open and unguarded for the first time. He shook his head, looking away. “Just tell me.”

“I can’t tell you when you’re crying- I can’t stand it.” He released your hand, standing up and turning towards the window, his back to you. “Y/N, I never believed you couldn’t handle it, I never believed that you would fail- but I just could not stand the possibility that it was a possibility.”

“What are you talking about Azriel?” You asked, but he refused to turn around.

“The reason Rhys doesn’t send you on missions, the reason he doesn’t put you in danger, is because he owes me one.” Azriel said, his hands folding behind his back. “Knowing that you are in danger, knowing that you are somewhere I can’t protect you- I can’t get anything done, I can’t be productive, and my shadows don’t agree with it either. It literally drives me fucking crazy Y/N.

He turns to you, his eyes wide open, almost crazed. You could recognize his expression now, it was fear. “The whole time you were there, I watched those men watch you. It wasn’t any fault of yours, it was just pure luck. You did so well.”

“Wait- you were there? The whole time?” You shouted, ripping off the covers and revealing your pajamas. “Wow- you must really not have trusted me, you just assumed I would fuck it up.”

“Are you not listening to what I’m saying?” Azriel shouted, running his hands through his disheveled hair. “I cannot live knowing that you are in danger! Rhysand knew full well that I would not be able to sit here idly by as you risked your life out there, without me there to protect you in case things went wrong. Y/N, I can not live without you, you must see that.”

The bed groaned under your weight as you sat back down, unsure of the words. “Y/N, please. I told you I would tell you once. I cannot ever- ever- put you in a situation where you are unsafe. If it were up to me, you would be in this fucking house all day reading your books, and I would work twice as hard just so you wouldn’t have to.”

“I know its unreasonable, I know it’s crazy, but some instinctual part of me just can’t let you put your life at risk.” He whispered, moving to the floor and kneeling, grabbing your hands. “Your work here is important, just as important as fighting on the front lines. Please- for me, just stay here.”

“Why do you feel this way Azriel?” You asked, pulling your hands from his. “no offense- but you have spent the last 2 centuries avoiding me at every opportunity. I have tried to be friends, I have bought you books I thought you might like- hell, I still even go to that stupid bakery and buy you a cake on your birthday every year- but you still don’t talk to me. And now you come around and ask me to keep myself out of danger? I need a good reason Azriel.”

“I love you, Y/n.” Azriel shouts back, grabbing your hands back. “From the day I met you, I have loved you. I love you when I watch you read your books, I love you when you laugh with everyone BUT me, I love you when you stare at the night sky. And how was I supposed to tell you when you’ve made it so painfully obvious you could never love me?”

Azriel stopped, clearing his throat and backing up. “But now I understand, you don’t feel the same. Just please keep yourself safe- if not for my sake, then yours.”

“Azriel- stop, please.” You whispered, more tears coming to your eyes. “I…I have always hated when you left too.” You looked at him, and he turned to look back at you. “I have looked at other males and found myself comparing them to you- every single time. It hurt me so much when I overhead what you and Rhys said about me. I’ve always known that I’m not as strong as you or Mor, but hearing my worst fears confirmed-‘

“I didn’t mean what I said.” Azriel interrupted, giving you a small smile. “I was trying to find any reason for you not to go- or at least send me with you. You can handle yourself- but I can’t handle myself while you do. I heard what you said about me and you never working out, I was angry about that and angry at him, I just wasn’t in control of my emotions.”

“Please don’t accept any more missions from that asshole.” Azriel grew serious, his eyes darkening with anger. You grabbed his hand, squeezing it slightly, nodding. “I know you feel like you can’t say no, but just tell him to fuck off.”

You laughed, choking on the tears. “I’m not going to tell him that Az.” You whispered, you went to touch his face, then hesitated a couple inches away. He moved his face towards your hand, and you cupped his cheek. His stubble grazing your palm, and butterflies filling your chest. “You…really feel that way?”

“I swear it to you.” Azriel, covered your hand in his. “If you let me, I will spend every day protecting you for the rest of my life.”

You nodded, and you felt the relief in the breath he exhaled. “I love you too Azriel.”

#azriel x you #azriel imagine #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar

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partydemoman · 18 hours ago

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I'm not an ask blog, but I wanted to answer these anyway. Answering for my Wol, Naraya Tuivione

1. It would depend on who is doing the perceiving. Someone who hasn't seen many Au Ra might think she is a child/teen given her short stature, while anyone with combat training will notice that she has the air of a highly experienced warrior. In general, though, most people's first impression might be her air of competence. People can easily see that this is a woman who knows what she is doing.

2. Naraya was born in the Azim Steppe, but has spent most of her life in Eorzea, particularly spending most of her childhood in Gridania.

3. At first she followed Oschon the Wanderer, but after dealing with primals for so long she has become kinda desensitized to all things divine and doesn't really care anymore (If the Endwalker Alliance Raids would change this, don't spoil me. I haven't played them yet)

4. She is an only child, both to her birth parents and her adopted family.

5. Her birth father specifically didn't influence her in that way since he wanted her to choose her own path. Her adopted mom kind of did, but only in that she picked up archery to follow in her mom's footsteps.

6. Naraya treats pretty much everyone the same, in that she won't hesitate to help anyone who is in need. There was the exception of the beast tribes for most of the story, since they were all tempered, but now that that isn't a factor she'll gladly help out the allied societies just as much as anyone else.

7. Naraya has, admittedly, felt somewhat forced to play the part of World Saving Adventurer/Hero for a while, since she felt she is pretty much the only one strong enough to succeed at what she does. Since the end of Endwalker, though, she has been able to put more focus on being an adventurer, and it has been a massive breath of fresh air. As for side gigs, she is a rather talented singer, musician, and dancer, having acquired both the Bard and Dancer jobs. She doesn't really perform, per se, but mostly uses them for small personal things. For example, she created the songs Dragonsong, Tomorrow And Tomorrow, and Footfalls, and sings little bits of Flow to calm herself down at times.

8. At first, she learned each job from the in-game mentors but has since iterated on each of them to suit her style. She also taught herself a style that uses her ability to hot-swap between jobs mid battle to make a fighting style that is really hard to counter, swapping between weapons and styles rapidly while maintaining coherence and proper technique.

9. Naraya likes the neutrality of the Scions and uses it to help as many people as possible across nation borders, rather than tying herself to one specific nation.

10. It would vary. Sometimes, she'll take walks, make little doodads out of metal or wood, spend time with the Doman Adventurer's Guild, things like that.

11. I don't really use minions much, myself, but probably either Midgardsormer or the Starbird.

12. I haven't done enough with the Allied Societies to really say.

13. Naraya lost her adopted mom, Asene, who was on patrol near Fallgourd Float when the Calamity happened. Naraya herself was in Gridania and managed to make it through relatively unscathed.

14. I've made the occasional small change, like a specific line of dialog or Naraya's exact relationship with a character, but I've generally stuck pretty close to Canon.

15. I don't ship my wol with anyone so I don't have any screenshots like that.. Something something aroace.

16. Am I allowed to say Venat? I'm gonna say Venat.

17. I would absolutely save Haurchefant. I'm not having it happen in my Canon since his sacrifice was extremely meaningful and I want to keep it, but damn do I want to save him.

18. There really isn't anyone for me, so I'm gonna flip this around and say a villain I kinda wish we hadn't persuaded to join our side: Bakool Ja Ja. I can definitely see what they were going for and him joining our side is… fine. But he had been a relentless monster for the whole expansion up to that point. I'm not a huge fan of how quickly he flipped around to our side.

19. So long as there are new and exciting things and places to see, Naraya is right where she wants to be.

20. As I said, I don't ship my wol with anyone, so no, she doesn't have any plans to settle down like that.

21. Probably a really low stakes adventure. Just enough to see some new things and new places, but nothing especially important in the grand scheme of things.

22. Our journey will never end.

23. Naraya might be tempted to forget a few things, but ending up like Elidibus is an unimaginably horrible fate to her. She wouldn't take the risk.

24. Let's go Gambling! No, not really.

25. No, I don't really interact with FCs, and neither would she.

26. Light/Astral aether. Constant activity.

27. I've never actually thought to make any other shards before, but I have some lore for my Azem, who I've named Mnemosyne after the Greek Titaness of memory.

28. Naraya is fascinated by all things Amarotine, partly because she wants to learn all she can about Azem.

29. They're cute! Though they can be kinda hard to deal with sometimes.

30. It feels anticlimactic to say, but I don't have any.

I decided to make a very in depth and fun ffxiv oc question meme! (Feel free to steal and use)

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alluramiura · 3 days ago

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“𝒾𝓃 ℴ𝓉𝒽ℯ𝓇 𝓌ℴ𝓇𝒹𝓈, 𝒶 𝓀𝒾𝓁𝓁ℯ𝓇 𝓉ℴ 𝓅𝓇ℴ𝓉ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓎ℴ𝓊” ｜se-mi x reader

summary: you save se-mi during lights out.

word count: 1.6k words

warnings: lowercase intended, death description, 124 dies, se-mi lives, mentions of youngmi’s death (💔), reader is an implied foreigner

authors note: i was going to post something abt hyunju but i remembered how se-mi died and i got mad all over again. minsu you’re a fucking coward. enjoy.

you met se-mi after the first game, before six-legged pentathlon. you talked a few times, the first time being when you two agreed to team up. after the agreement, she proposed the idea to split up and search for more teammates.

a few minutes later, you found two players willing to join you; hyunju and youngmi. when you found her again, she had found four other players.

before you could say anything, one of the men behind her spoke up.

“who’s this, se-mi? the limit is five. we have all of our members.” he says, so quietly you almost can’t hear him. he was standing the closest to se-mi, and you notice his number is 125.

your eyes flicker to his for a second before flickering back to se-mi, who looks like she was about to give you an apology before another one of the men speaks, quite loudly.

“who’s this chick?” a man with purple hair—“thanos“— steps forward to address you directly.

“oooh, i see what’s happening. you want to join the amazing thanos’ team, huh? we are sadly out of room, señorita. but come to me next round, yeah?”

you stare at him blankly before turning back to se-mi. “it’s okay. i found a few people. you can stay with your group.”

she nods hesitantly, and you give her a faint smile before turning to return to the two players you found, who have now found two more players.

after the second game, you spoke again, a little before voting.

you opened up about your situation, how you were still relatively new to life in seoul, and how it’s been rougher than you imagined it would be, especially with the whole death game thing.

she sat and listened, nodding softly as you explained the last few months of your life to her.

she spoke about her situation a little as well. she didn’t say much, just that going back to her life was as good as staying here would be.

hearing that, you shouldn’t have felt as shocked, almost betrayed as you did when you saw her with the small “O” patched onto her jacket.

you knew you really had no right to be upset—everyone was here for a reason, some reasons being worse than the others, and her singular vote would have changed nothing regardless—but you couldn’t help but think of how the majority of players would choose money over fellow human life, her being one of them.

you try not to let her see how much the thought bothers you, but she seems to catch on almost immediately.

“are you upset that i chose to continue?” she asked, a bit suddenly, after noticing you’ve barely said anything and had been avoiding her gaze.

“…i’m not upset at you directly. i just…wanted to go home really bad.” you mutter softly, fidgeting with your necklace.

she hums in acknowledgement, and what seems like understanding.

“i wish i felt the same way.”

the next time you talk to her after that was during the third game.

mingle was probably the most stressful for you. you stayed with youngmi and the rest of your designated group for the most part.

that is, until youngmi died.

seeing her lifeless body covered in blood changed something within you.

when the farris wheel stopped spinning once more, you almost didn’t move. however, you suddenly felt the strong urge to make it out of here alive, if not for yourself, then for the friends, family you found here that might not make it along the way.

when you saw se-mi again, she was alone, looking around frantically for another person after the number two was called out.

you first noticed that she wasn’t with her team, but you pushed that thought away as you rushed towards her, grabbing her arm and sprinting to an empty room.

once you were in the room with the door shut, you pressed your back against the wall, catching your breath.

after a few seconds of silence and heavy breathing, se-mi speaks up, her voice hoarse and breathy.

“thank you.”

hearing that, you look up at her before nodding, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the wall.

“you’re welcome.”

when you left the room, you noticed she stayed near you and your group instead of with the people she was with before.

you didn’t mind.

the final time you talked to her before lights out was after the second vote.

when you saw she voted “X”, you were almost as shocked as you were seeing her vote the first time.

you didn’t ask what changed her mind, however. instead, you asked her what happened with her team.

“they…they’re assholes. i should’ve known from the start.” she mumbles, sighing softly.

you two spoke a little more, and you told her about your newfound motivation to make it out no matter what, after witnessing the death of your friend.

you shed a few tears thinking of youngmi. you didn’t know her for long, but like many other people you met here, you formed a bond you knew you’d never have with anyone else you’d ever meet.

se-mi gently put a hand on your shoulder as you cried silently, her expression grim.

you stayed with her for the remainder of the time before lights out.

now, as everyone’s killing one another and the scent of copper fills the air, you run around frantically looking for a place to hide.

you were climbing to the top of one of the bunk beds when you heard a familiar voice.

a shriek.

you look behind you, and a few feet away stood player 124, standing over se-mi with a bloodied fork in hand, looking like he was ready to attack.

that same feeling you got seeing youngmi die suddenly came back full force, and before you even realized it, you had hopped off the latter and began running towards the two.

as you approached, you locked eyes with se-mi as she struggled to fight him off.

suddenly, a glass bottle shatters, causing you to step back, and namgyu to pause his murderous actions, looking up to find the person who threw it.

while he’s distracted, you grab a shard of the glass and jab it into his his shoulder from behind.

namgyu lets out a pained cry as the glass pierces his shoulder. in an instant, he swivels around, backhanding you in the face.

you hit the ground pretty hard, feeling blood trickle down your nose. your vision was slightly blurred and you were disarrayed, your hand pressing against your temple where you initially hit the ground.

se-mi’s eyes widen, a strangled gasp leaving her lips as she watches you fall to the ground. adrenaline fuels her as she takes the opportunity to scramble to her feet, kicking namgyu in his side.

he doubles over slightly, but quickly recovers as he takes another step towards se-mi.

to her surprise, you get back on your feet, gripping the shard of glass so hard that blood runs down your wrist as you charge at namgyu again.

her heart racing, she joins fray in a flurry of limbs and desperation, punching and kicking wherever she could. namgyu was strong, however, and he managed to dodge all of your messily aimed attempts at stabbing him, his own adrenaline surging.

he suddenly grabs se-mi’s wrist forcefully, slamming her against the wall and raising his fork over his head, preparing to stab se-mi in the neck.

“no!” you shriek, balancing yourself and locking your blurry vision onto namgyu before charging at him a final time, stabbing him in the back harshly.

you don’t stop after the first stab, continuing to drill the glass into his back repeatedly, his blood splattering all over your shirt and skin.

he screams out in pain, staggering as his strength slowly leaves his body.

it’s only when he hits the ground, choking on his own blood as it pools around him when you realize what you’ve done, your hands shaking as you look down at the blood covering your hands.

you almost feel sick knowing it’s not just your own.

if someone told you a week ago that you’d become a murderer trying to protect yourself and your loved ones in a death game you’d blindly signed up for, you’d call a psychiatrist.

you drop the glass, trembling as you slowly look up at se-mi, tears beginning to stream down your face.

se-mi quickly runs over to you, her heart pounding in her chest. she grabs your face, holding it in her hands as she checks for any fatal injuries.

when she sees that you don’t have any major wounds, she pulls you into a tight hug.

you wrap your arms around se-mi as you bury your face into her neck, sobbing as the reality sinks in of what you’ve just done.

she kept her arms caged around you protectively, as she looks around to make sure no one else tries to attack you two.

“it’s okay. you’re okay. i got you.” she whispers, her own voice wavering as she rubs your back, attempting to comfort you for the second time that day, only under completely different circumstances.

“i-it all happened so fast…” you cry out, clinging onto se-mi like a lifeline. “h-he was trying to kill you, se-mi…i had to…i had to.”

“shhh…it’s alright. you saved me.” she murmurs, slowly guiding you to a nearby corner, hidden in the shadows from the chaos. she doesn’t once let you go, her eyes scanning the room for any immediate danger as the lights flicker.

after a while, she pulls back, gently tilting your head up so you could look at her. her thumb brushes away the tears streaming down your face, her touch tender.

"you're safe now. it's over."

#se mi x reader #se mi squid game #player 380 x reader #squid game x reader #player 380 #alluramiura #se-mi x reader

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fr0stf4ll · 1 day ago

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A court of Shadows and Moonlight - Part 14

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the wake of looming war and changing traditions, a gifted healer returns to the Night Court after centuries of wandering the continents. Tasked with stepping into Madja’s legendary role, she must guide reluctant healers, soothe wounded warriors, and face the entrenched prejudice of Illyrian leaders. But as she mends torn wings and broken spirits, an unexpected bond awakens between her and the Night Court’s enigmatic Spymaster. With rivalries simmering and a dangerous threat looming on the horizon, she must reconcile duty and desire, learning that true healing can extend beyond flesh and bone—if she dares to embrace the light hidden among the shadows.

word count ; 8k

Trigger warning; fluff hehe

notes; What's up everyone, back again this week for a new chapter. This is one is cute, really cute but it was a pain in the ass to write after everything that happened in the previous one lol. either way, i hope that everyone is doing well. i have not much to say this week beside that i wish you will have a great time reading this chapter. See you next time <3333

previous ✧

After a moment, the two of you left the garden, the cold air biting at your skin but doing nothing to dispel the warmth that seemed to radiate between you and Azriel. His shadows lingered around you like a protective veil, their faint touch against your skin a constant reminder of his presence. His hand was warm in yours, his thumb brushing softly over your palm in slow, soothing strokes.

As you walked back toward the house, you cast a glance over your shoulder at the garden. The snow had already covered the imprint of where you had knelt together, erasing any sign of the moment that had passed. It was as though it had never happened, yet you felt it etched deeply into your heart, a memory that would never fade.

The house was calm when you stepped inside. The dining table had been cleared, and the soft glow of the fire in the living room, accompanied by a few flickering candles, bathed the space in a comforting warmth. The echoes of laughter and conversation from earlier were gone, replaced by a serene stillness. It felt as though the house, too, had exhaled and settled for the night.

Without speaking, the two of you climbed the stairs, your hands still entwined. The gesture felt natural, grounding, and neither of you let go. When you reached Azriel’s room, it felt as though your feet had guided you there instinctively, and you stood together just inside the doorway.

You exhaled softly, your shoulders sagging as though the weight of the night had finally lifted. “I don’t think I’ve ever cried like that before,” you admitted, your voice tinged with both humor and lingering emotion.

Azriel’s worried gaze softened, and he stepped closer, gently cupping your face. He kissed each of your closed eyelids, the gesture so tender it made your breath catch. “Are you okay with staying here tonight?” he asked, his tone careful, as though he didn’t want to push.

You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Ah, yes. I mean, if you don’t mind.”

His lips quirked into a faint smile. “Why would I mind?”

You returned his smile, the tension in your chest loosening as he turned toward the wardrobe. After a moment of rifling through his clothes, he pulled out a large, soft shirt and handed it to you. “You can change here if you want,” he said, his voice low. “I’ll step out to the bathroom.”

The simplicity of the gesture, the quiet respect in his tone, made you smile as you accepted the shirt. “Thank you.”

Azriel nodded and stepped toward the door. Before leaving, he turned back, his golden eyes searching yours for a moment as though reassuring himself that you were truly okay. Then, with a quiet click, the door shut behind him, leaving you alone in the room.

You looked around the space, noting the minimal yet thoughtful touches—books neatly stacked on the shelves, the faint scent of cedar and something distinctly Azriel lingering in the air. You ran your fingers over the shirt in your hands, a soft laugh escaping you as you thought about how surreal the night had been.

The house was silent, the snow outside continuing to fall, but in this moment, wrapped in the calm and warmth of Azriel’s room, you felt... safe.

You quickly changed, the oversized shirt draping comfortably over you, and the scent of Azriel surrounding you felt like a protective cocoon. It was grounding, familiar, and it made your heart ache in the best way. A faint laugh escaped your lips as you noticed one of his shadows curling playfully through your hair, tickling your nose.

Stepping toward the window, you gazed out at Velaris, a city that looked like it had been plucked from the pages of a dream. The soft glow of lanterns dotted the streets below, casting a golden hue over the cobblestone paths that wound between the elegant, timeless buildings. The Sidra sparkled under the moonlight, its waters calm and steady, mirroring the endless expanse of stars above. The sky was impossibly clear, the constellations vivid and bright as if painted by some celestial artist. Everything about the view felt magical, like a promise of serenity in a world too often filled with chaos. For a moment, it was as though the looming threats had vanished, replaced by this pocket of quiet perfection. No war, no god of death, no impossible decisions. Just peace. A fleeting, precious peace.

You didn’t hear him approach, but you felt him—Azriel’s presence was unmistakable. His arms slipped around your waist, pulling you gently back against him. The weight of his touch was grounding, steady, as if he was trying to anchor you to this moment. One hand rested firmly on your shoulder, his thumb brushing a light, comforting arc against your skin. The other circled you protectively, holding you close to him. His warmth seeped into you, chasing away the lingering chill of the evening.

You leaned back into his chest, letting out a soft sigh as his face came to rest against your shoulder. The light scrape of his stubble brushed against your skin, sending a shiver down your spine, but his embrace held only comfort. It was intimate, but not demanding, as though he was content simply to be close to you. You closed your eyes briefly, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing calm the storm in your mind.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked softly, his voice low and velvety, carrying a weight of concern and curiosity.

You hesitated before answering, your gaze still fixed on the peaceful cityscape. “Everything feels so calm, so peaceful,” you admitted. “Like nothing is coming for us. Like I can just... breathe. It feels strange—almost wrong—to feel this safe.”

You felt his gaze on you, steady and unwavering, as though he was trying to memorize every detail of your face under the soft glow of the moonlight. His presence behind you was grounding, a silent reassurance that you weren’t alone in the chaos of your thoughts. Slowly, you turned in his embrace, meeting his eyes.

And oh, those eyes. They held so much—concern, yes, but also something raw and vulnerable. Admiration, reverence, and something deeper still, something that made your heart ache with its intensity. It wasn’t just affection; it was understanding, a quiet acceptance of everything you were, even the pieces you struggled to accept yourself. The bond between you hummed softly, pulling you closer in ways you couldn’t resist.

Before you even realized what you were doing, you kissed him.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t rushed or desperate, but deliberate, charged with an intensity that made your heart race. It was as though every word unsaid between you both poured into this single, searing moment. The bond thrummed stronger now, pulsing like a heartbeat, drawing you so close that the very act of breathing felt like a betrayal of the closeness you craved.

Azriel’s hands moved to your back, his touch firm yet tender as if afraid to let you go. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him even closer, and the kiss deepened. It was intoxicating—the way his lips moved against yours, the warmth of his body pressed to you, the way his scent enveloped you completely.

In one swift motion, he lifted you off the ground as though you weighed nothing. A small, surprised sound escaped your lips, and he smiled against your mouth. The gesture was fleeting but enough to send a shiver through you, softening the intensity just enough to remind you of the person behind all this strength.

You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, the world tilting as he carried you. His hands settled on your thighs, steadying you as he sat on the edge of the bed, his wings spreading slightly behind him for balance. The kiss didn’t falter. If anything, it grew more fervent, his lips claiming yours with a quiet desperation that mirrored the feelings you couldn’t yet bring yourself to name.

Straddling his lap, you cupped his face with trembling hands, your thumbs brushing against the sharp planes of his cheekbones. You broke the kiss, just barely, your foreheads pressed together as you both caught your breath. The silence was thick with emotion, the bond between you humming so loudly it felt like a third presence in the room.

Azriel’s eyes searched yours, his golden gaze filled with something you couldn’t quite place. A flicker of worry crossed his features, as if he was afraid this moment would shatter.

You shook your head softly, a small smile tugging at your lips. You cradled his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing gently over his skin. “It’s okay,” you whispered, your voice trembling but sure.

And in that moment, his entire world shifted. The way you looked at him—with love so unfiltered, so honest—made his breath hitch. He had spent centuries yearning for something like this, for someone to see him, all of him, and not flinch. To accept him, scars and all.

He kissed you again, this time slower, softer, but no less intense. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was a promise, a quiet declaration of everything he couldn’t yet put into words. His shadows curled around you like a cocoon, warm and protective, as if they, too, were trying to tell you what he couldn’t.

When the kiss finally broke, you both lingered there, your foreheads touching, breaths mingling. His hands rested on your waist, anchoring you in place, while yours tangled gently in his hair. The world outside the room seemed to cease to exist, leaving only the two of you in this stolen moment of peace.

Azriel gently turned you both, and you found yourselves lying on the bed next to each other, tangled in each other's arms. His fingers traced delicate, reassuring patterns on your back as he pressed soft kisses to your mouth, your forehead, your cheeks, and even the corners of your closed eyes. Each touch felt like a silent promise, as if he was ensuring that you were truly there, in his arms, in his bed, with him.

“Stop it, that tickles,” you murmured with a small laugh, squirming slightly under the light press of his lips.

He raised his head, a smile playing at his lips as he looked down at you, golden eyes warm and full of quiet amusement. “Does it?” he teased, chuckling softly.

“Absolutely,” you replied with a grin, your laughter filling the quiet room.

The intimacy of the moment felt right, but doing anything more tonight felt premature for both of you. The bond, the emotions of the evening—it was too much, too raw, too fresh. You both needed to let the night settle, to breathe and process before taking another step forward.

Azriel shifted, resting his head against your chest, his arms wrapped tightly around you as if he never wanted to let go. Your fingers found their way into his hair, softly threading through the dark strands. For the first time in what felt like forever, Azriel felt completely at ease, the tension that usually resided in his body dissolving into your embrace.

“Are you hugging me like that because you want to feel my heartbeat,” you asked, voice tinged with playful mischief, “or because you like being in my boobs?”

His head snapped up, his golden eyes wide with surprise. “What?” he exclaimed, the disbelief clear in his tone.

You winked at him, laughter bubbling out of you. He stared at you for a moment before a grin broke across his face, and he began laughing with you.

“Both,” he finally admitted, the corner of his mouth quirking up in a smirk.

“Both?” you repeated, feigning shock, your grin widening.

“Yes, Y/N. Both,” he said firmly, his laughter softening into a contented smile.

As the laughter faded, your breathing became slower, softer. Azriel felt your hand still in his hair, your body relaxing fully against his. He tilted his head slightly to look at you, seeing your features softened in sleep. The sight sent a quiet pang through his chest—how lucky he was to have you here, to have this moment.

Azriel closed his eyes briefly, and then he felt the gentle brush of Rhysand’s presence against his mind. He let him in without hesitation.

How is she doing? Rhysand’s voice was quiet but full of concern.

Azriel hesitated before answering. It’s a lot, he admitted. And knowing her, she’s trying to process everything as quickly as possible so it affects her the least. But for now... she’s okay.

Good, Rhys replied, his tone firm but kind. I’m sure you won’t need my help for the moment, but if you both need anything, Az, please let me know.

Azriel paused, feeling a faint warmth in his chest at Rhys’s offer. Thanks, brother, he said softly, and he felt Rhysand’s reaction—an unspoken acknowledgment of the term—as the connection faded.

Azriel’s shadows curled protectively around the two of you, their touch gentle and comforting. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, settling further into the warmth of your presence. In that moment, with you in his arms and the world outside forgotten, he allowed himself to truly rest.

You stirred gently, the weight of Azriel’s arm draped over you grounding you in a way that made your chest ache with unfamiliar comfort. His embrace was firm yet tender, as though even in sleep, he feared you might slip away. Your head rested against his chest, and you could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing, the warmth of him enveloping you. His scent lingered around you, rich and comforting, mingling with the faint, familiar smell of his room.

The sunlight creeping into the room was soft and golden, casting delicate patterns over the walls and the bed. It spilled through the curtains, brushing against your face like a whispered reminder that morning had come. The city outside was just beginning to wake, its quiet hum blending seamlessly with the steady rhythm of Azriel’s heartbeat.

Your gaze wandered, taking in the relaxed expression on Azriel’s face. In sleep, he looked so different—his brow smooth, the faint shadows under his eyes softened. His lips were slightly parted, and his hair was mussed from where you had run your fingers through it the night before. He looked peaceful, vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.

You raised your hand slowly, careful not to wake him, and watched as the sunlight caught the edges of your fingers. Azriel’s shadows, ever curious, danced around your hand, their movements gentle and almost playful. A small, tired smile tugged at your lips, the contrast between the light and shadow a quiet reminder of the bond you shared.

The past few days had been a whirlwind. Azriel discovering the bond, Elain’s vision, the attack on your way back from Dawn—it all felt like too much. Even for you, someone used to balancing on the edge of chaos, this was overwhelming. And yet, here you were, lying in the arms of the person who had unknowingly become your anchor.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you let your gaze drift back to the sunlit room. What were you supposed to do now? Pretend you hadn’t seen what Elain had seen? Ignore the ominous shadow of the future looming over you? It was an option, sure, but it was far from an easy one. The perpetual threat of what was coming made it impossible to fully relax, even in moments like this.

You let your hand fall back to rest lightly on Azriel’s arm, your fingers brushing against his skin. His shadows seemed to respond to the movement, curling protectively around you both, as though they, too, were trying to shield you from the weight of it all.

For now, you told yourself, you could take this moment. Just this brief, fleeting moment of peace in the arms of someone who had become so much more than you had ever expected. The world outside could wait, if only for a little while longer.

Azriel shifted in his sleep, his arm tightening around you as his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your skin, and the lazy movement made your heart flutter.

“Good morning,” you said softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

He mumbled something incoherent in response, the sound low and gravelly, which only made your smile widen. You ran your fingers gently through his hair, his soft strands tangling around your fingers. The small motion seemed to comfort him, his hold on you firm yet tender.

You thought you could stay like this forever, wrapped in his warmth and the quiet safety he provided. Azriel seemed to drift back to sleep for a moment, his breathing evening out against your neck. But soon, he shifted again, his face lifting to yours. His sleepy golden eyes met yours briefly before he leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and unhurried.

It was a simple gesture, but it sent a wave of warmth through you. You leaned into it before pulling away gently, stretching your arms above your head as you sat up. The morning light illuminated the room, and you were acutely aware of your messy hair and puffy face from the night before.

Azriel didn’t seem to care. He was still lying on his side, propped up on one elbow as he watched you. His gaze was so soft, so unguarded, that it made your chest ache.

“What are you doing today?” he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

You combed your fingers through your hair, trying to tame the wild strands. “I’m probably going to finish working on the last files you brought me last time. I forgot them here and didn’t had the time to come and get them. So I’m a bit late. Before lunch, I should head back to the clinic to check on things. If Elain is feeling better, I might examine her by the end of the afternoon or tomorrow, depending on how busy things are. Honestly, probably tomorrow. You ?”

Azriel nodded, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve got a few reports to go through and some meetings with Rhys and my spies. Tomorrow, I’ll need to head to Hewn City, so we’ll need to prepare for that.”

You raised an eyebrow, amused at the nonchalant way he mentioned visiting one of the most dreadful places in the Night Court. “Sounds delightful,” you teased, earning a soft chuckle from him.

Azriel’s gaze flicked to you, his shadows swirling lazily around his shoulders. “Are we seeing each other tonight?”

You tilted your head, pretending to consider it. “Well, it depends on my schedule,” you said with a playful smirk. “But I should be able to pencil you in.”

His lips quirked up at the corner. “Generous of you,” he replied dryly. “We could go out in Velaris, or stay in and do something here. Whatever works for you.”

The thought of spending a quiet evening walking through Velaris filled you with a sense of warmth. “Walking around Velaris sounds nice,” you decided, your smile softening.

Azriel remained on the bed, his gaze following your every move as you stood and leaned over him. Your hair fell in a curtain around your face, brushing against his cheek as you kissed him again. It was sweet and lingering, and when you pulled away, you noticed the way his shadows curled gently around your wrists, as if reluctant to let you go.

You stepped out of the bed, collecting your clothes from the night before since they were the only ones you had. As you moved around the room, you couldn’t help but notice Azriel’s gaze following you, his golden eyes filled with a quiet intensity that made your cheeks warm. You ducked into the bathroom, trying to shake off the flutter in your chest as you got dressed and washed up.

When you came back into the room, Azriel was sitting on the edge of the bed, his hair slightly tousled, and his shadows swirling lazily around him. He looked up at you with a soft smile.

“Hungry?” he asked, standing as you approached.

“A bit,” you admitted.

“Good,” he said, already heading toward the door. “Let’s get breakfast before you leave.”

You followed him down to the kitchen, where the quiet warmth of the townhouse enveloped you. Azriel moved to the counter, rolling up his sleeves as he started to prepare something. You took a seat at the kitchen island, resting your chin in your hand as you watched him.

“You’re cooking?” you teased, a playful lilt in your voice.

He glanced back at you, a faint smirk on his lips. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

You laughed softly and leaned forward. “So, about this trip to Hewn City—what exactly are you and Rhys hoping to accomplish?”

Azriel’s shoulders stiffened slightly at the mention of Hewn City, but he continued cracking eggs into a bowl. “There’s been some tension with the Court of Nightmares lately,” he explained. “We’re going to remind them where their loyalties should lie. Nothing too dramatic, hopefully.”

“Hopefully,” you echoed, raising an eyebrow. “With Keir, there’s no such thing as a simple conversation.”

Before Azriel could respond, you heard footsteps behind you. Turning, you saw Feyre, Rhysand, and Nyx entering the kitchen. Rhysand had Nyx cradled in his arms, the babe’s small hands clutching at his father’s shirt.

“Good morning,” Feyre greeted warmly, leaning down to hug you and kiss your cheek.

You winked at her. “Good morning.”

Rhysand shifted Nyx in his arms, giving you a sly smile. “Do you mind taking him for a bit?”

“Of course not,” you said, reaching out to take the squirming babe from him. Nyx immediately latched onto you, his tiny hands grabbing at your hair with a delighted gurgle.

As Azriel worked on breakfast, you balanced playing with Nyx and chatting with Feyre and Rhysand about the upcoming meeting in Hewn City. Rhysand eventually brought up the healer meeting and the detailed recap you’d provided him.

“Was it always like that?” he asked, tilting his head.

You nodded. “Pretty much, yes. Most of the time, Madja made me go instead of her to represent the Night Court.”

Rhysand raised an eyebrow. “She did?”

“She never told you?” you asked, laughing softly at his surprised expression. “Well, besides the last hundred years—because I was on the continent, and then Amarantha happened. But usually, we either went together or I went alone.”

Azriel turned toward you with a plate of food and a steaming cup of coffee, setting them down in front of you. Feyre gently took Nyx back from your arms, giving you a chance to eat.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your eyes meeting Azriel’s as he leaned against the counter. He gave you a small nod, his gaze lingering a moment longer before he turned back to the others.

The warmth of the kitchen, the quiet hum of conversation, and the contented sounds of Nyx cooing in Feyre’s arms made the moment feel almost surreal. For the first time in days, everything felt... right.

You left the townhouse shortly after breakfast, the large stack of files balanced precariously under your arm. Feyre laughed softly as she watched you struggle, shaking her head in amusement. Azriel, leaning casually against the counter, smirked as you maneuvered toward the door.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” Feyre asked, a teasing edge to her voice.

You grinned back at her. “I’ve got it, don’t worry. Just another day in the life.”

Azriel raised an eyebrow. “You’re carrying enough paperwork to bury an Illyrian camp. Impressive.”

You shot him a mock glare. “Keep making fun, Shadowsinger, and I’ll add your reports to the pile.”

Both of them chuckled as you waved and made your way out the door, heading toward the clinic. The brisk air of Velaris filled your lungs as you walked through the quiet streets. Despite the weight of the files, you couldn’t help but smile at the city’s beauty, the soft buzz of life returning to normal around you.

When you arrived at the clinic, the familiar scent of herbs and the gentle hum of conversation welcomed you. Healers bustled about, patients seated in the waiting area, and the overall atmosphere felt calm and controlled. You exhaled softly, relieved to be back.

Elira spotted you first, her face lighting up as she approached. “Y/N! You’re back. How are you feeling?”

You set the stack of files down on a nearby counter, rolling your shoulders. “I’m fine. Just a little sore, but nothing I can’t handle.”

Her eyes flicked briefly to the faint bandages peeking out from your shirt, her brows knitting together. “I saw Azriel’s wing the other day. Everything okay on the trip? We haven’t talked about it yet.”

Another healer, Aline, joined the conversation, her curious gaze darting between you and Elira. “Yes, tell us! How was the Dawn Court? Was it as beautiful as they say?”

You smiled, brushing off Elira’s concern with a wave of your hand. “Everything went fine, don’t worry. The Dawn Court was stunning—exactly as beautiful as they say, maybe even more. The palace is breathtaking, and Thesan’s hospitality is unmatched.”

Aline leaned against the counter, her eyes wide with curiosity. “I can only imagine. What about the healers? I’ve heard the Day and Summer Court healers are some of the best.”

You nodded, a warm smile on your lips. “They are. It was wonderful catching up with everyone. The collaboration between the courts has grown so much stronger over the years. It’s really inspiring to see.”

Elira tilted her head, a playful grin on her face. “And Thesan? How was he?”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes. “Still as charming and graceful as ever. He sends his regards, by the way.”

The three of you laughed, the lighthearted conversation a refreshing change after the tension of the past few days. As you discussed the various techniques and approaches you’d seen during the meeting, the healers listened eagerly, their excitement palpable.

The rest of the day passed quickly as you dove into your work, consulting with patients and organizing the files Azriel had brought you. The clinic buzzed with its usual rhythm, and for a while, you felt a sense of normalcy settle around you—a reprieve from the storm of emotions and events that had been swirling lately.

Back in your office, the organized chaos of the clinic buzzed faintly beyond the closed door. The soft light streaming in through the tall window illuminated the neat stacks of files on your desk. You pulled the chair closer, letting out a small sigh as you adjusted the lamp for better visibility. The familiar scent of herbs and parchment filled the room, grounding you as you began sorting through the documents.

Each file held the weight of decisions to be made: updates from the Dawn Court healer meeting, notes on new treatment methods shared between courts, and detailed reports from various Night Court healers. You carefully reviewed each one, annotating the margins with your thoughts and proposed actions. Your quill moved swiftly, the scratch of ink on paper blending with the faint sounds of the clinic.

Every now and then, a knock at the door would interrupt your focus. Healers popped in to ask for your opinion on a patient’s treatment plan, or to share updates on how things were progressing in the clinic. Despite the heavy workload, you welcomed these moments—they reminded you why you loved this work. Even in the chaos, there was purpose, and that purpose kept you grounded.

One particular case stood out, and you set the file down with a frown. It was from one of the Illyrian camps, detailing the ongoing challenges they faced. Supplies were running low but still manageable, and while progress had been impressive and made in spreading knowledge and materials, it wasn’t enough. Your mind wandered to Windhaven, the memories of your last visit there stirring unease in your chest. You would have to go back soon, as much as you dreaded it.

Between files, you found yourself slipping out of your office to assist in the clinic. A child with a persistent fever needed a careful examination, and an elderly woman with chronic joint pain sought relief. You moved seamlessly between tasks, your presence steady and reassuring. The healers you worked with were competent and kind, and it warmed your heart to see how well they managed everything in your absence.

Still, there was a heaviness lingering in the back of your mind. You hadn’t had time to check in on Elain yet, and the thought left an unsettling feeling in your chest. While Feyre had assured you earlier that she was resting, the memory of her vision—the way her body had convulsed and her eyes had gone stark white—clung to you. You couldn’t shake the image of what you had seen when you entered her mind, the darkness that had consumed the vision, the death it foretold.

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you stared at the document in front of you. The words blurred slightly, your thoughts drifting back to the moment Elain had slapped you. It wasn’t her fault, you knew that, but the weight of it all—her vision, your role in pulling her out, and what you’d seen—pressed heavily on your shoulders.

Forcing yourself back to the present, you straightened in your chair and picked up the next file. There was too much work to be done to dwell on the unsettling feelings. But even as you worked, the nagging thought remained: you needed to check on Elain. If not today, then tomorrow. You owed her that much.

By the time you finished the last document, the sun was setting, casting a warm orange glow across the room. The clinic had quieted down, and you sat back in your chair, staring at the neatly stacked files on your desk. Progress had been made, but the unease in your chest hadn’t abated. You knew it wouldn’t—not until you addressed everything that was hanging over you.

As you finished scribbling the last note on your parchment and set it aside, the soft knock at your door caught your attention. You glanced up just as Azriel stepped in, his presence instantly filling the space with a quiet, steady warmth.

"Busy saving the world again?" he asked, a faint smirk on his lips as his eyes darted to the towering stack of completed files on your desk.

You leaned back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head. "Something like that," you replied with a small grin. "I guess you could say I’m trying to keep the chaos at bay."

Azriel crossed the room, his steps unhurried, and perched on the edge of your desk. "You’ve been locked in here all day, haven’t you?"

You raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Are you keeping tabs on me, Spymaster?"

"Someone has to," he teased, his tone light but tinged with something deeper. "Otherwise, you’d probably forget to leave."

You laughed softly, pushing yourself up from the chair. "Guilty as charged. But I’m officially done for the day—well, almost. What brings you here?"

Azriel tilted his head slightly, his gaze flickering to the nearly empty desk before meeting yours. "We made plans, remember?"

"Right," you said, grabbing your jacket from the back of the chair. "Our walk. I didn’t forget, I swear. I just... lost track of time."

He smirked, standing as you slipped into your jacket. "You’re lucky you have me to drag you out of here."

As you both stepped out into the clinic’s hallway, Elira spotted you and raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Leaving work before the middle of the night ? Who are you, and what have you done with Y/N?"

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. "Very funny. I’m trusting you to keep everything under control while I’m gone."

"Go," Elira said, waving a hand dismissively. "You deserve a break. And maybe some fresh air."

"Don’t let her fool you," Azriel murmured as the two of you exited the clinic. "She’s probably relieved to have a break from you hovering over everything."

"Hey!" you protested, nudging him lightly as a laugh escaped you. "I do not hover. I supervise."

"Mm-hmm," he replied, his tone teasing but affectionate as his hand brushed lightly against your back, guiding you down the quiet street. The air between you felt warm despite the evening chill, and as you glanced at him, you found yourself smiling without even realizing it.

The streets of Velaris were alive with a quiet kind of magic that only came with the nighttime. The soft glow of faelights lined the cobblestone paths, their golden hues casting a gentle shimmer on the river that wound through the heart of the city. Above, the stars sparkled like tiny shards of diamonds scattered across a velvet canvas, their light reflecting off the spires and rooftops of the City of Starlight. It felt as if the world had slowed down, the rush of the day replaced by a serene rhythm, like the city itself was breathing in sync with the stars.

You and Azriel walked side by side, your steps in tune with each other, though neither of you spoke. The silence between you wasn’t heavy; it wasn’t awkward. It was comforting—like a blanket wrapped around the two of you, shielding you from the chaos of everything else. Occasionally, his shadows would dart out, flickering like curious wisps before retreating back into him. Their presence was faint but constant, as if they, too, were enjoying the peaceful night.

The streets were mostly quiet now, save for the occasional soft laughter or distant hum of music spilling out from a café or a home. The scents of freshly baked bread, spiced teas, and blooming night jasmine drifted through the air, wrapping you in their warmth as you wandered further into the heart of the city. The river reflected the starlight, creating an endless mirror that seemed to stretch forever, and every now and then, you caught Azriel glancing at it, a small, almost wistful smile playing on his lips.

Your hand brushed his arm once—accidentally, at first—and you felt a jolt of awareness run through you. You weren’t sure why, but it felt like the bond, subtle and unspoken, was humming softly between you. A few moments passed before you carefully, almost nervously, slid your hand to gently rest on his arm, your fingers lightly curling around his sleeve. It was such a small gesture, but it felt like everything in that moment.

Azriel glanced down at you, his golden eyes catching the faint light of the faelights. His smile was soft, unguarded, and it made your chest tighten. "Comfortable?" he asked quietly, his voice warm and tinged with something you couldn’t quite name.

You nodded, a faint smile of your own tugging at your lips. "Yeah," you murmured, your gaze shifting to the stars above. "I think I am."

His smile widened just a fraction, and he turned his head to look at the sky as well. You could feel the muscles of his arm relaxing under your touch, as if your presence grounded him in the same way his did for you. The world around you both felt distant, as though this walk was its own little pocket of time, reserved for just the two of you.

As you walked, your steps carried you to a small bridge overlooking the river. You both stopped, leaning slightly against the railing to admire the view. The stars seemed impossibly close here, their light dancing on the water. The gentle sound of the current filled the air, mingling with the soft hum of life in the distance.

Neither of you spoke, but the silence wasn’t empty. It was full of meaning, of unspoken words and shared thoughts. Azriel’s shadows curled faintly around your fingers where they rested on his arm, and you let out a soft breath, feeling your heart settle into a steady rhythm that matched the peace of the night.

When you finally turned to look at him, his gaze was already on you, his expression calm but filled with a quiet intensity. The corners of his mouth lifted just slightly as he met your eyes. You weren’t sure if the warmth flooding through you came from the glow of the stars or from him, but in that moment, it didn’t matter.

The walk was quiet for a while, the comfort of Azriel’s presence beside you a soothing balm to your thoughts. You glanced up at the stars, your hand still lightly resting on his arm. After a moment, you decided to break the silence.

“How was your day?” you asked softly, turning your head slightly to look at him.

Azriel glanced down at you, his expression softening. “Busy,” he admitted with a faint sigh. “The preparations for Hewn City are done, but it’s… tedious. We’re leaving early tomorrow.”

You nodded in acknowledgment, the mention of Hewn City tugging at something in the back of your mind. “It’s always tedious with them, isn’t it?” you teased lightly, though your tone held understanding.

He let out a low chuckle. “That’s putting it mildly.”

The conversation turned to smaller things after that—the tasks he’d tackled during the day, the little moments you’d found peace while working in the clinic. The exchange was easy, flowing naturally as you walked, the night air crisp and refreshing around you.

Then, as you turned down a quiet street, your steps slowed. You stopped in front of a large house, its windows glowing warmly with light. Even from the outside, you could hear the faint sound of laughter and the chatter of children. Azriel halted beside you, his sharp gaze flicking from the house to your face, where a wistful smile had formed. Your expression was soft, tinged with nostalgia and a faint sadness.

“What’s going on?” Azriel asked, his voice low and curious.

You gestured to the building, your eyes still fixed on it. “This is where I grew up,” you said softly. “It’s one of the orphanages of Velaris.”

Azriel blinked, clearly surprised. He had known of the orphanage’s existence—Velaris was a city that cared for its own—but he had never really thought about it, never imagined you having a connection to a place like this. But the way you looked at the house, with a mixture of warmth and old sorrow, made his chest tighten.

“What was it like, growing up here?” he asked, his voice careful.

You tilted your head slightly, your smile deepening as your gaze lingered on the house. “It was… fine, I guess. Much better than so many other places could have been. They took care of us, made sure we had what we needed.” You paused, the corners of your lips tugging upward in a bittersweet way. “I was the only winged child here, though. That made me different—set apart from everyone else.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed slightly, but he said nothing, waiting for you to continue.

“The times were difficult,” you admitted, “but still, there were good memories. I remember Madja coming to see me every other day, checking in on me. She practically raised me, even though she couldn’t take me in.” A soft laugh escaped your lips as you looked at the house. “I tried to fly on my own once. I barely made it off the ground before I fell straight into the Sidra.”

Azriel couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at his lips at the image. “Did it hurt?”

“Only my pride,” you teased, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the house. “I had good moments here, even though it was hard. Losing my parents… that was the hardest part.”

The lightness in your tone faltered slightly, and Azriel’s hand on your arm tightened just a fraction, a silent gesture of comfort. “Do you still think about them?” he asked softly, his voice gentle.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. “Sometimes I do,” you admitted. “But… I can’t even remember their faces clearly anymore. I was so young when they passed. It makes sense, I guess, but it’s still hard to accept sometimes.”

Azriel’s gaze didn’t waver, his expression somber as he listened. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice quiet but weighted with sincerity.

You smiled softly, turning away from the house to meet his gaze. “Thank you,” you said simply, appreciating the steadiness in his presence. Then, with a deep breath, you glanced back at the house one last time before stepping away.

“Come on,” you said, your voice lighter now as you tugged him gently forward. “We still have the rest of Velaris to see.”

Azriel nodded, falling into step beside you again. But even as you walked away, he couldn’t help but glance back at the house, as if trying to picture the younger version of you that had lived there—the one who had already endured so much and somehow still become the person walking beside him now.

As the two of you continued walking, the streets of Velaris became livelier, the marketplace ahead buzzing with energy. Merchants called out their wares, the scent of roasted almonds and spiced cider filling the cool night air. You instinctively stepped closer to Azriel, the press of people making you feel the need to stay near him.

Azriel, ever attuned to you, noticed immediately. Without hesitation, he reached down, his fingers brushing over your wrist before one of his shadows slithered around it like a soft tether. The feeling sent a shiver up your arm, but it wasn’t unpleasant—it was comforting. A silent reassurance that he was there, that he wouldn’t lose you in the crowd.

You looked up at him with a small smile. “Keeping me on a leash now, Shadowsinger?”

He smirked slightly, his golden eyes gleaming under the market lights. “Just making sure you don’t wander off.”

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t move away. Instead, you let yourself enjoy the warmth of his presence, the way his fingers occasionally brushed yours when you both shifted through the bustling streets.

As you turned a corner, lost in the vibrant atmosphere, a small figure suddenly crashed into your legs, nearly knocking you off balance. A tiny child, no older than four or five, looked up at you with wide, teary eyes, his little hands clutching at the hem of your coat.

“Oh, little one,” you said softly, crouching down. “Are you alright?”

The boy sniffled, looking back and forth frantically. “I—I lost my mama.”

Azriel stepped closer, crouching beside you. “Do you remember where you last saw her?” he asked, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

The boy shook his head, looking on the verge of tears. Without hesitation, Azriel reached out and carefully lifted him into his arms. The sight of it made your heart clench in the best way. The way Azriel, the feared spymaster, held the child with such ease and gentleness made something warm settle deep inside you.

You watched as the boy curled against Azriel’s chest, tiny fingers gripping his tunic. “We’ll find her,” Azriel murmured, his voice steady and reassuring.

The moment didn’t last long before a frantic woman came rushing through the crowd, calling the child’s name. Relief flooded her face when she saw him, and she all but collapsed in front of you both.

“Mother above, thank you,” she breathed, reaching for her son. Azriel handed him over with care, and the little boy beamed up at both of you before burying himself in his mother’s embrace.

The woman gave you both a tearful smile. “Truly, I don’t know what I would’ve done. Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank us,” you said warmly. “We’re just glad he’s safe.”

As the mother and child disappeared into the crowd, you turned to Azriel, still feeling the lingering warmth of the moment. He was watching them go, his expression unreadable. But there was something softer in his eyes—something distant, as if a part of him had once longed for the same embrace that child had just received.

You reached out, intertwining your fingers with his. He looked down at you, blinking in surprise.

“You’re really good with kids,” you said softly, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh. “You say that like I don’t deal with Cassian and Rhys every day.”

You grinned. “That’s different. Nyx loves you, you know? And that little boy—you calmed him down faster than I ever could.”

Azriel just shook his head, but there was the faintest dusting of pink on his ears. He gave your hand one last squeeze before leading you both forward again, back through the winding streets.

As you walked together through the quieting streets of Velaris, the familiar silhouette of the House of Wind loomed above, nestled in the mountains, its presence both imposing and oddly comforting. You tilted your head slightly, glancing up at Azriel.

Azriel hesitated for a moment before glancing at you. “Stay tonight,” he said softly. “Even though I’m leaving early tomorrow.”

Your chest ached at the thought of waking up without him here, but you nodded, offering him a small smile. “Of course.”

“Do you change places every night or something?” you asked, teasing.

He let out a low chuckle. “No, but the House of Wind is calmer than the river house. Feyre and Rhys barely sleep now with Nyx still not fully settling through the night. It’s better to leave them some peace for the moment.”

You hummed in understanding, your gaze drifting up to the House of Wind. It had been a long time since you’d been there. The last time had been brief, business-related. But now, standing here with Azriel, the idea of returning felt... different.

You turned to him with a smirk. “Are you going to fly me up there?”

He raised a brow, smirking back. “If you don’t mind, yes. Unless you’d rather take the stairs.”

You made a face, feigning deep thought before flashing him a grin. “Fine. But only if you don’t let me fall.”

Azriel scoffed, shaking his head in mock offense. “That happened once. And it will never happen again.”

You gave him an exaggerated, knowing look. “I know,” you said with a soft laugh. “Don’t worry.”

Without another word, Azriel scooped you up effortlessly, his arms locking around you with practiced ease. The rush of wind wrapped around you as his powerful wings spread wide, lifting you both into the air. The city of Velaris shrank beneath you, the lights twinkling like stars against the darkened streets.

You nestled closer, the warmth of his chest radiating through his leathers. The steady beat of his wings was soothing, the flight smooth, effortless. As the altitude climbed, you let your lips ghost closer to his ear, your voice soft, just above the sound of the wind.

“Your flying’s not bad, I’ll admit,” you teased lightly, feeling the faintest shift in his grip on you.

Then, without thinking too much, you leaned in further, brushing a kiss against his cheek—just shy of the corner of his mouth.

You didn’t miss the way his breath hitched slightly, nor the faint dusting of pink that rose along his cheekbones. His grip on you tightened just a fraction, but he remained steady, his expression unreadable save for the telltale warmth in his golden eyes.

The reaction made you laugh softly, pressing your forehead against his temple for a moment. “I think I like flying with you.”

Azriel exhaled, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite the slight blush he tried to hide. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I don’t intend on letting you go anytime soon.”

You didn’t have time to process the weight of those words before the House of Wind came into view, its towering presence greeting you as Azriel angled his wings and began the descent.

——

Azriel’s room in the House of Wind was just as you remembered—calm, dark, and carrying the faint scent of cedar and night-chilled air. As you stepped inside, he set you gently on the ground, his hands lingering at your waist for a moment longer than necessary before finally letting go.

The space was warm despite the vastness of it, the heavy curtains barely letting in the moonlight. It felt safe, intimate even, as if the very walls carried the weight of memories—of quiet moments, of healing, of revelations too heavy to be spoken aloud at the time.

You swallowed, taking in the familiarity of it all. It had been months since you had last stood here, when Azriel was still recovering, when you had barely left his side. When you had first discovered the bond and had buried it deep within yourself, refusing to acknowledge the aching truth of what it meant.

And now?

Now, you were here again, but no longer holding that secret alone.

Azriel turned to you, his golden eyes scanning your face before stepping closer, his hand rising to brush your cheek with a softness that made your chest ache. You tilted your head into the touch, savoring it, before reaching up to hold his wrist, your fingers tracing the warmth of his skin.

Neither of you needed words in that moment.

Instead, you leaned up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. It was slow, deliberate—not rushed or frantic, but full of understanding. The bond thrummed between you, a quiet hum of recognition, of home.

Azriel kissed you back with the same reverence, his hands settling at your waist, pulling you just a little closer. Not out of desperation, but out of certainty—certainty that he wanted you, that this was right. But still, there was a quiet restraint in the way he moved, as if he was making a silent promise to himself.

After a while, he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the dim light.

“I want you,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But not here. Not tonight. Not hours before I have to leave for the Court of Nightmares.”

You blinked up at him, waiting, listening.

“I want to take you to the cabin,” he continued, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek. “Away from all of this. Just us.”

A shiver ran through you at the thought, not just from the idea of what would happen, but from the way he said it—like he was already certain, already planning, already waiting for the moment you both fully accepted what was between you.

You smiled softly, nodding. “Then it will wait.”

Azriel exhaled, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your forehead before leading you toward the bed.

As you lay down beside him, your fingers instinctively reached for his. He let you trace the scars that marked his hands, let your nails gently drag over them, sending faint shivers through him. His wings twitched slightly behind him, betraying the way your touch affected him, but he didn’t pull away.

“You don’t have to be so gentle,” he murmured, watching you closely.

You smirked faintly, tilting your head as you continued your slow movements. “Maybe I like being gentle with you.”

Azriel huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “That’s dangerous.”

“Is it?” you whispered, lifting his hand and pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles.

He swallowed, his eyes darkening just slightly, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear before tracing his own fingers along your jaw, down to your shoulder, then back to your wrist, as if mapping every part of you he could reach.

After a while, you leaned in, pressing one last, lingering kiss to his lips before settling into his arms.

The silence between you was easy, comforting. Your breath matched his, slow and steady, as you allowed yourself to sink into his warmth.

Then—

“Oh,” you mumbled suddenly, your eyes widening slightly as the distant sounds of something unmistakable echoed through the walls.

Azriel groaned, closing his eyes. “I forgot about that.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, heat creeping up your cheeks as Cassian and Nesta’s… activities carried on without a care for who could hear them.

You hid your face in Azriel’s neck, shaking slightly with quiet laughter. “It’s fine,” you murmured against his skin, biting back another giggle.

Azriel let out a soft huff of amusement, his arms tightening around you. “I’ll soundproof my room next time.”

You nodded against him, letting your laughter fade as the warmth of his embrace lulled you toward sleep. His scent, his touch, his presence—it was enough to make everything else melt away.

As your breathing evened out, Azriel pressed a final, featherlight kiss to the top of your head, letting his own eyes slip shut.

Tomorrow would come soon. But for now, for this moment, it was just the two of you.

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