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jksian · 1 year ago

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Rivals in flight (m) |JJk

Navigating the challenges of adjusting and studying as a commoner amidst insults from the nobility was tough, but, the struggle only intensified when the fellow dragon rider, Jeon Jungkook, who took so much pride upon his status and abilities, became a formidable enemy and the ultimate pain in your ass. What did you do then? Simple. You started fucking him.

Pairing: dragon rider!Jungkook x dragon rider!oc

Genre: forbidden love, fantasy, e2l, ewb (enemies with benefits? lmao), smut, angst (18+)

W/c: 5k+

Warning: okay so... Jungkook is a jerk in it, noble Jungkook x commoner reader= chaos!, jk called her names (love, phoenix, SLUT), school bullies, arguments and fights, Enter Namjoon!!, oral sex in a semi-public place, hair pulling, grinding, fingering, ass spanking like for twice, he eats her out in a library🫣, edging, orgasm denial, cum eating, they are kinda toxic but it'll be okay later IF I EVER MAKE IT INTO A SERIES🥹

A/n: It's finally here!! This is my first ever fic so I hope y'all will like it! I know that e2l meant to be slow burn and it will be the same if I make into a series but I'm not so sure about that:⁠,⁠-⁠) Like, do you guys want me to turn this into a series?

“Aster, ascend! Use ‘astral radiance’ on them now!” You commanded. The dragon respond with graceful flight, scattering the shadows with pulsating waves of celestial energy with his power.

Jungkook’s dragon again surged a series of shadowy entity, a relentless onslaught aimed towards you. You didn’t even had enough time to recover from the previous attack before you see a cloak of darkness approaching you.

“Screw you, Jeon Jungkook.”

As both of you resumed in a blaze of magic and motion, each command from Jungkook and you echoing through the air.

Eythor and Asterlith soared high above the arena where the game is going on, their wings slicing through the enchanted currents with a thunderous flap.

You guided Asterlith through a series of evasive spins and turns, “Defend! Unleash bursts of celestial energy to dispel the shadows!” That burst of energy created a celestial barrier, disrupting the shadowy figure.

The sky became a canvas for elemental clash. Shadows and celestial radiance intertwined, creating a mesmerizing dance that captivated the onlookers in the grandstand.

You heard Jungkook’s voice, a command filled with determination as the word ‘attack’ reverberates through the arena. Soon, you see a shadowy tempest raising above the ground, big enough to engulf the whole arena in its darkness. The intensity of it makes you a bit wary.

You, however, remained steadfast, “Aster, illuminate the sky and repel the encroaching shadows.”

You can hear the heavy breath from your dragon, as he tries his best remain solid in the fight. He had already used so much of his power that its getting harder for him to continue using constellations energy.

You rubs his neck, tried to calm his nerves and encouraged him, “I know you’re tired, baby, but please just a little more. Could you do that for me?”

You ask softly as he nodded at you. He gathered as much as energy as he can, his celestial radiance intensified, pushing back against the looming darkness.

The crowd below watched with bated breath as the clash of flight and attack unfolded.

The Dragon Duel had reached a crescendo, the clash of shadows and celestial radiance weaving a mesmerizing tapestry in the skies above Syndril. However, as the intensity of the battle grew, an unseen force intervened.

The authorities of the Wings academy, recognizing the escalating magical energies and potential consequences, decided to halt the duel for the safety of all involved.

“Cease the duel, right away!”

A resounding voice echoed through the arena, as you and Jungkook momentarily caught in the ebb and flow of the magical currents, reluctantly reined in your dragons, their energies already subdued but still resonating with the remnants of the fierce battle.

“This clash of powers has reached a level of intensity that poses a threat to the safety of the participants and spectators, so we have to dismiss the game at this very moment.” As the principal of your academy announced.

As the authorities assessed the situation, a magical barrier shimmered into existence, enveloping the arena. It served not only to contain the remnants of the magical energies but also to signal the temporary halt of the sports day.

Jungkook and you, both atop your respective dragons, when you shared a glance with him, you clearly saw a mixture of frustration and anger in it. You shrug it off as you saw a representative of the authorities stepped forward, addressing the dragon riders and the assembled audience.

“The Dragon Duel shall be temporarily suspended. We will assess the situation, ensuring the safety of all involved. Further instructions will be provided once we are confident in resuming the event.”

In the ethereal expanse of Syndril, where dragons painted the skies with hues of mystique, the art of dragon riding was a privilege bestowed upon the chosen few, a regal tapestry woven for the noble and royal alike. The intertwining destinies of rider and dragon transcended mere power, forming a sacred covenant that echoed through the ages.

In the middle of Syndril’s heart, there stood a grand place called the ‘Dragon Keep’, a living testament to the ancient bond shared between the realm’s sovereigns and the winged custodians that adorned the heavens.

Throughout the annals of history, dragons have been formidable companions on the battlefield, their majestic forms serving as both a symbol of power and a devastating force. Since ancient times, these mythical creatures have been harnessed as instruments of war, their scales reflecting the glint of conquest and their breath embodying the fire of conflict.

But, as the time goes, dragons become companion and more of a friends to the humans as the bond between two becomes more strong.

In Syndril, the training of dragons was a vital necessity rooted in the intricate balance of power, protection, and tradition. But, only the nobles were allowed to have a companion such as mystical creature.

To provide such directions and train the dragon in a proper manner, the ancient of this land made a dragon rider academy named ‘wings academy’, where people from royal blood and noble families can train and study with their dragons.

There are few reputed dragon houses in the kingdom, famous for their Excelled skills and magnificent magic, from the ancient, these are the elite houses which has been serving this kingdom from ages.

Each of this houses carries unique abilities and distinct attributes that contributed to the kingdom’s intricate tapestry.

The first one is Eythor from the house Shadowthrone, famous for its mastery over shadows and illusions, possessed a unique and elusive power. Its ability to manipulate darkness and create intricate illusions made it a formidable force in both stealth and strategic deception. Ruled by the Jeons, highest member of the royal council. It is rumored that the only people who build this entire Kingdom and found out about it was, The Vilothorn’s and Jeon’s.

Next one is known as the house of stoneheart, famous for possessing the power of earthquake and stone manipulation, ruled by Kim’s.

The house of inferno is famous for harnessing the power of heat manipulation. There ability has become a relentless force of searing destruction on the battlefield, ruled by Park’s.

In contrast to the previous house, the house of Frostland is famous for its capability to freeze opponents with its breath and control ice in various forms, ruled by Min’s.

The house of Skydancers ruled by Jung’s, has the ability to dominate the skies with its mastery over air manipulation and flight agility.

And, once-extinct dragon, has been reborn again, now found by a commoner girl. Asterlith’s wings were said to carry the very essence of celestial realms, now under the care of you. A creature emerged with scales that radiated with the brilliance of a thousand constellations became a living testament to the resurgence of magic and the rekindling of ancient bonds between dragon kind and those destined to ride upon their majestic backs, and now, you become one of them.

A commoner in the academy where she will study alongside other aristocrats were something not acceptable. ‘only the noble are allowed to ride a dragon’ was like a tradition which now has been broken by you.

“Your Majesty, with all due respect, Wings academy has been a fortress of nobility for centuries. This departure from tradition may disrupt the delicate balance that has safeguarded our realm.” Lord Liam voiced his concern in front of the gathered noble in the chambers of Syndril’s royal court.

Lord Jeon, the most trusted component of king Leo and an expert diplomat interjected, “Yet, Your Majesty, the magic that binds ___ and Asterlith is undeniably potent, not to mention that she is the chosen one by Asterlith himself. Are we to dismiss the weaving of destiny itself?”

Conflicting ideologies echoed through the walls of the royal court as each person tried to justify their opinion. Some nobles, entrenched in their adherence to tradition, cast disapproving glances, while others, inspired by the possibility of a new era, nodded in silent approval.

A decision was reached—a groundbreaking one that defied the norms of Syndril. King Leo then announced that everyone must accept this new norm and welcome you into the, once only for the nobles, Wings academy. You, the common girl, would be permitted to study at the Royal Dragon Rider School alongside the nobility was the new rule passed through out the kingdom.

But, you weren’t warmly welcomed by the other students at the school neither.

You found yourself facing the cold glares and condescending whispers of those who clung tightly to the rigid norms of Syndril. The nobility, accustomed to a lineage that stretched across generations, viewed your presence as a disruption to their established order.

Despite that, you continue your training regardless. At least, those insults weren’t as unbearable as Jeon Jungkook.

The second son of Jeon house, Jungkook, a formidable presence in the mystic realm of Syndril’s, is an embodiment of unparalleled power and prowess.

Jungkook’s physical prowess is akin to a tempest, an unstoppable force that commands attention.

His martial skills, honed through rigorous training, transform him into a living weapon.

His strategic acumen, a calculated dance of intellect and intuition, adds a layer of sophistication to his formidable persona.

Not only talented but, Jungkook is a magnetic paradox himself, a living canvas painted with ink and adorned with piercings that echo the rhythm of rebellion.

His onyx locks, a rebellious dance against tradition, frame a countenance that carries the weight of both legacy and defiance.

With a set of piercing eyes, a deep brown that reflects both determination and a hint of arrogance, Jungkook’s gaze is both intense and captivating. His brow piercings increases the intensity of his gaze even more.

Upon his strong arms, a tapestry of tattoos unfolds, each design a narrative etched in ink- The motifs, stark against his fair skin, trace the contours of muscles that hint at a strength not easily contained.

Beneath the hardened exterior, however, lingers the paradox of a “baby-faced” warrior. Jungkook’s soft features, though sculpted by the passage of time and the rigors of dragon rider training, retain a youthful charm that defies the graveness of his responsibilities.

Here, Jungkook writes a story of contrasts, where tradition and rebellion dance together in a spellbinding harmony.

Yet, him being loved by almost the whole population of the kingdom, you found yourself loathing him.

The animosity that grew between you two, emerged from a combination of conflicting backgrounds, divergent ideologies, and a clash of personalities.

Jungkook carried the weight of familial expectations and traditions. His reserved demeanor and arrogant nature often set him apart, earning him both respect and an air of intimidation.

You, on the other hand, hailed from more humble origins, your ascent to the esteemed academy marked by determination and an unyielding spirit.

You both fought for recognition in the academy, often led to arguments marked by sharpe words, competitive duels, palpable tension and mutual hatred for each other.

The hatred grew over the years as well as the thick sexual tension between you two. The irresistible attraction you both feel towards each other is unexplainable but not-so-hidden either.

The aftermath of the halted Dragon Duel left the arena in an eerie silence, the tension was thick in the air.

As, all the students got dismissed by the school authorities, everyone stared entering the school and going back to their respective dorms.

You were walking alone as usual towards your dorm when you heard a very familiar and annoying voice of the male you hate so much, “This intervention was unnecessary. We could have settled it ourselves.”

Jungkook, his usually reserved demeanor now tinged with visible annoyance, broke the silence at last. His voice reverberates through out the hollowed hallway, making everyone pause in their movements.

You, equally agitated, responded sharply, “Your arrogance is truly astounding, Jungkook. The authorities stepped in to prevent a catastrophe, something you seem oblivious to.”

The venom In your voice evident and not much hidden from anyone present there. People gathered around you, saw the argument unfolding in front of them.

Jungkook’s patience worn thin, he retorted, “You act as if you know everything. This clash was an inevitable part of our training. We can’t shield ourselves from every challenge!”

He was being absurd with whatever statement he was stating. His pride was taking a toll on his thinking ability clearly.

You were beyond annoyed with his obliviousness when you shot back, “Training, yes. But, not at the risk of endangering everyone around us. Your recklessness is a danger, and it reflects poorly on House Shadowthrone.”

You heard a few gasps around you, people were surprising with your choice of words. You saw their eyes gone wide upon hearing you pulling house shadowthrone into this argument.

Jungkook was enraged, if he wasn’t a human but a dragon, he should have breathed fire and burned you to the ashes once and for all.

He snapped back, “You act as If your celestial ideals make you infallible. This interruption only proves your inability to handle the challenges and run away from them. I chose the perfect name for you, didn’t I? Phoenix? Rise from the ashes without any ability and prowess–,” he stepped a bit closer to you, burning holes into your face with his Sharpe eyes as he said, “You belong to the slums and should stay there.”

His insulting words pierced through your heart and ignites a intense rage which you were unable to handle, “I’m not afraid of challenges, Jeon Jungkook from the house of Shadowthrone.” You said mockingly, “I just refuse to let arrogance and recklessness guide my actions unlike you. We must be responsible for the consequences of our powers.”

Soon, the onlookers, divided by loyalties, began to interject with verbal insults and jeers. A supporter of Jungkook, emboldened by the mounting tension, shouted, “Jungkook’s strength lies in action, not in empty words and celestial theatrics. Your ideals won’t protect us when the real challenges come.”

People found amusement in them as they begun to laugh at you. You were standing alone there, with no one by your side but yourself, helpless but still defending yourself.

You countered with determination, "Strength without responsibility is a liability, not an asset. We need more than brute force to navigate the complexities of our calling."

You heard a ‘tsk’ from Jungkook as he kept on glaring at you. The voices in favor of Jungkook gained momentum, echoing sentiments of tradition and House Stonethrone storied legacy.

You saw Ivy Drakaron, one of the nobles who happened to be your fellow classmate, smirking at your direction and quite enjoying you being insulted in front of thousands of people, whispering provocative remarks to those around her and laughing along with it.

“Your supposed ‘responsibility’ is nothing but an excuse for your lack of prowess. Syndril needs dragon riders who can face challenges head-on, not ones who cower behind ideals.” Jungkook spits venom from his mouth at you, and this time, it was enough for him to break your hard exterior which you were maintaining carefully and brought tears to your eyes.

With glossy eyes, you glare at his direction and this time, he looked quite surprised and speechless.

Kim Namjoon, senior of yours, belongs to the house of Stoneheart attempted to mediate, stepped forward, “Calm down, both of you, Jungkook and ____. Our unity is paramount, and personal disputes must not undermine the cohesion of Syndril’s dragon riders.”

He had always been the mediator whenever you two started quarrelling in the middle of nowhere. Being the president of the student community, he had all the abilities to be the perfect leader, still, you both made him afraid with your intense fights, so much so that he became tired. He referred himself to an old man because, according to him, he will soon become bald, if he had to continue taking care of you two anymore.

You thought, he might stop with his hateful remarks after seeing your cracked demeanor, it was clear that you were hurt but he didn’t stopped. Jungkook, unwilling to yield, shot a disdainful look at you, "Unity does not mean blind conformity. Your idealistic notions jeopardize the very essence of our training."

“And your recklessness jeopardizes lives. I won’t compromise the safety of our dragon rider community for the sake of your misguided ideals.”

Before the tears descended from your gaze, you departed, no longer willing to endure the ceaseless barrage of disparagement.

You were alone in the library at night, when you sensed an elusive presence that stirred the tranquil air.

It wasn't that the library was open at night, you often snuck in there from a secret path, finding the atmosphere of the silently library amusing, it became one of your nightly endeavours.

The muted glow of lanterns cast intricate shadows on the ancient bookshelves, creating an ambiance that heightened your awareness.

As you delicately turned the pages of an age-worn tome, the subtle rustle of paper seemed to echo louder in the stillness… An inexplicable awareness tingled at the nape of your neck, compelling you to glance over your shoulder.

Despite the initial surprise after seeing the figure that stepped into the pool of dim light, you decided to mask any reaction, adopting an air of nonchalance.

Because, you knew who it was.

You continued your perusal of the ancient tome, deliberately chose to ignore his presence.

Jungkook, sensing the deliberate indifference, cleared his throat as he leaned on the table in front of him.

You just gave a quick glance at his direction before continue your reading. You saw Jungkook’s eyes aglow with the flickering candlelight, he looked…handsome. You might fall in love if it weren’t for his arrogant nature.

“Seems like you’re quite fond of conversing with seniors. Is that how commoners like to elevate their status?”

There he goes again. Why can’t he keep his mouth shut?

Wait…why he is asking that?

It’s nothing like you both share a loving relationship, far from that. You both hated each other but despite the hatred, the burning desire and the tentative lust for each other was unexplainable.

The magnetic pull that neither of you could deny, at last gave in.

The first time he fucked you was the time, when you came in the second position of your test.

The rule was simple. The winner must take the lead.

It was quite exquisite seeing Jeon Jungkook squirming under your touch when you tied him up and kept him on the edge until he was begging underneath you, because he lost to you in a game of chess.

It was only this ‘physical’ relationship between you two besides the rivalry. So, why he sounded… jealous?

Nonetheless, you were quite enjoying it when you donned a smirk in response to Jungkook’s probing gaze. “Oh, didn’t realize my choice of conversation partners was under such intense scrutiny –,”

You moved towards the bookshelf beside Jungkook to grab an another ancient tome as you continued, “Namjoon? Just discussing the intricacies of life, you know, the stuff that doesn’t make it into noble conversations.” your words, laced with sarcasm, floated through the library.

You did had a conversation with Namjoon earlier, about the incident that happened before. He was worried about you. So, it was a normal decent conversation.

“ –also he was worried about my wellbeing.” You said as your fingers idly tracing the spines of the books. The calmness in your tone unwittingly added fuel to the simmering fire.

Jungkook’s jaw tenses, he retorted, “Seems like you’re building quite the support system among the nobles, ____.”

His constant insults only proves your theory further more, “It’s called having friends, Jeon Jungkook. Maybe you should try it sometime.” You subtly threw a smirk at his way before minding your own business.

This time, when you tried to move away from the spot you were standing, you felt a strong arm pulling you backwards.

“What friendship, ____? Where you fuck them?” His face was closer to yours, his warm breath hitting your face. You looked up at him and saw a intensity in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

“Why do you care? Huh?” You stood firm on your toes, “That’s .None. Of. Your. Business!”

“It is. Because, I’m the only one who fucks you.”

He clenched his jaw, a subtle tension lingered in the air. You didn’t knew why he was acting the way he was acting, so you tried to push your body away from him.

It wasn't like it’s any of his business. You can have any kind of relationship with anyone, he was no one who could tell you otherwise. His oddly possessive behavior made you irritated further more.

“J- Jungkook –,” You tried to pull your hand out of his grip and pushed him back. Your hand was on his chest, you felt his muscles tenses under your touch, “–let go of my hand.”

Instead of doing that, he pushed your back onto the table beside you, caging your hands behind your back as your butt hit the edge of the table.

He didn’t said anything, just looked at your eyes with the same intensity and something your couldn’t decipher.

“Let me go!” You whisper-shouted at him.

“Kiss me and I will.”

You eyes widened at his words as you saw a devilish smirk on his face. He was clearly messing up with you. You pushed against him again, but he settled his one leg in between your thighs, further confining you in that position.

“Fuck off!” You retorted, annoyance etching your words.

In response, he countered with a smoldering gaze, “I shall if you ask nicely.”

His face more closer to yours, lips brushing against each other and the leg between your thighs slightly grind against your throbbing cunt, making you whimper in the process.

You didn’t held back yourself anymore as you smacked your lips on his.

As your lips collided, an intricate ballet of conflicting emotions played out. You sucked on his lips harder, so much so that it might leave brushes behind but he didn’t restricted you.

You heard him growl under his breath when you latched on his lower lip and pulled it down with your teeth.

You knew it was wrong, but you couldn’t help yourself. It was like you were hypnotized.

“I hate you.” You said in-between the kiss and he instantly responded, “The feelings are mutual.”

The intensity of the kiss grew even more when he grabbed your one leg, wrapping it around his waist. You could feel his boner right against you.

You grind on it, eliciting a hiss from him, moaning when you feel him growing harder underneath those clothes.

He deepened the kiss further, pushing further into your body. His hands comes down to your butt as he squeezes it.

Both of your tongue moved in a symphony, making you weak on your knees.

Then you did something. You grabbed his long locks in attempt to push in your tongue inside of his mouth but, in return, you received a harsh slap on your ass, along with a bite on your lower lip.

“Don’t even try, love.”

The moan that escaped from your mouth should be illegal, because the way Jungkook’s cock twitched and jumped in respond to that made him moan into your mouth.

You feel a gush of arousal approaching just from the name he called you. You knew he called you that mockingly but the things it does to you…it would rather be better if no one knows about that.

Pulling your head backwards by your hair, he started kissing your neck , leaving trails of colorful masterpieces on his way.

A reminder for you about your secret, which no one knows but you, the walls of these library and the man sucking your tits.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking wet.” The sounds you were making, was obscene. He twirls his tongue around your hardened bud, harshly sucking on it. Two of his fingers makes its way towards your throbbing pussy.

“You aren’t wearing any panties?” You didn’t understand why he was in disbelief. It’s night time, so, wasn't it obvious?

“Yes, because I was going to bed, you stupi–,” you gasped when he suddenly pushed his one finger inside, making you clench around it.

“Watch your mouth, love, or I might shut you up with something else.”

That jerk!

Before you could threw some insulting remarks towards him, he turned you around abruptly and made you spread your leg wide. You found support on the table in front of you, as you gripped on the edges of it for some support.

He pulled your nightgown all the way up to your waist. You couldn’t saw him in the dim light, but you felt the heat of his burning desire.

The library's dim light cast shadows that played upon the canvas of your unspoken desires.

You felt his fingers on your thighs as they tentatively draw patterns on your smooth skin, as he kissed your inner thighs, making you shut your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

When you did looked back, you saw Jungkook on his knees as he fondle your ass feverously, his intense gaze focused on your soaking pussy.

“Wandering around like this? You are a little slut, aren’t you?” You mewl when he placed a kiss on your clit, so soft that you just felt the ghost of his lips but it was enough for you to threw your head back.

Without a warning, he started sucking you clit, twirling his tongue all over your cunt as if he just found his favorite desert.

“My little slut, only mine. Right, love?”

He was settled in between you thighs, both your legs on his shoulder.

When you look down on him, he was smirking at you while devouring your pussy like a starve man.

The subtle eye contact ignited something in you, he made you feel things you shouldn’t felt. The forbidden sense of this makes it more appealing as you couldn’t help but drawn to the this unspoken game of lust and desire.

You screw your eyes shut, gripping the table as you prepare yourself for the upcoming orgasm.

He brought his fingers to your clit and started rubbing it in a crisscross way while his tongue goes inside of you, fucking you on his tongue.

As soon as that hot muscle entered, you moaned out his name, unable to control yourself, your essence dripping all over his mouth as he kept on rubbing and tugging your clit with his fingers while his tongue explores your warm walls as he found that spot which made your brain numb.

And, he knew it.

He smirked when you gripped on his men bun, shoved his face further into pussy as you grind on his face, desperately chased you release.

He kept on hitting that spot until you were a whimpering mess, but as soon as he felt your orgasm approaching, he pulled back altogether.

The whine that escaped your mouth was desperate. Embarrassing. But, you didn’t care.

“What the fuck?”

“I asked you a question, didn’t I?”

Asshole.

He wanted you to admit, to submit to him. Admitting that you’re his, had always been a struggle for you. Why would you though, when you weren’t his? You never understood his obsession with making you admitting that.

It must be some sick power play for him, you thought.

“I’m not saying it, because I’m not yours.” You firmly stated, glaring down at him.

His eyes further hardened from the previous half lidded one, “Let’s see for how long you can stick to that.”

Again he goes back to his work, this time more rougher than before.

Every time, you came closer to your release, he pulled back and made you squirm in his hold.

At the last thrust of his tongue, you cried out, your cries resonated through out the empty hall of the library. You instantly slapped your hand over your mouth.

“Come on, love. Say it if you want to cum.”

He was determined about leaving you then and there, hot and messy with your dripping cunt if you weren’t tell him the words he wanted to heard. His stubbornness and competitive nature wasn’t anything new to you.

He again brought his hand to your abused pussy, but this time, he put his fingers in it while sucking on your pulsating bud, occasionally tugging and biting the bundle of nerves, making you go insane.

“Fuck. Please, please Jungkook, let me c-cum,”

You voice was whiney, your broken cries made his cock twitch in his pants once again, making him growl into your heat.

“Then say it –,” He smacked your ass, his teeth dragging all over your throbbing clit before tugging and sucking on it harshly, “Say that you’re mine.”

You gripped onto his hair, tugged on it as your thighs stared trembling along with your whole body, you were close.

This time, you gave up.

You pleaded to him, chasing your release once again.

“No no, O-okay, please I’m yours, I’m yours, jus–Just lemme cum.”

“Then, cum for me but look at me when you do. I wanna see your face”

You obliged without any obligations. You looked down at him, staring into his eyes as you saw his brows pinched together as his lips attached to your clit, while thrusting his fingers inside you as you cum around them, made them soaking wet with your essence, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he watched your blessed out face with a smile on his face.

He didn’t stop though, until he drunk all of that you gave to him, slurping your essence, leaving you dry.

He was back on his toes as he turned you around. Your legs still trembling from the intense orgasm and overstimulation, he held you, encircled his hand around your waist and made you sit on top of the table.

You could see his face glistering with your essence, shining under the dim light, his piercing eyes staring at your soul as you saw he licked his lips with his half-lidded eyes and tousled hair from you gripping and tugging on it.

He was so hot that you didn’t knew if you wanted to kill him or kiss him.

He made it easier as he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking your essence of off it, then pulling you into a kiss.

An electric charge rushes through you as it seemed to dance across every inch of your body. You gasped, when you tasted your own cum on your tongue.

You were out of breath when he detached his lips from yours, both of you tried to breath in some air while you thought what the fuck you just did?

When he tried to caress your cheeks, you pushed him back, made him bewildered in the process.

“I-I have to leave.” You stumbled a bit on your steps but caught yourself before he could reach out.

“____...” It was surprisingly…tender, almost affectionate. It made you wonder if he genuinely felt remorse, maybe guilt?

“What went down earlier shouldn’t have, and I get that I said some hurtful things. But…honestly, if you weren’t mentioned my house, I wouldn’t have gone there and– I hope you know that…”

Oh, the irony! Expecting an apology from him?

His pride soared too high to grasp your emotions. He didn’t even considered the things he said to you, the things you had to heard because of him, how much you had to suffer.

Yes, you truly despise him and he is the reason behind that.

As you kept on walking out of the library, not sparing a glance back at him, unwilling to linger in the aftermath of his intensity.

“You are a fucking jerk, Jeon Jungkook and I hope you know that.”

The damage was done, and the scars of his callousness lingered.

Note: Let me know your thoughts on this and also, help me out with making the decision about if I should make this into a series or not. Like, is it worth it? Please let me know!!

#jungkook imagine #bts x reader #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook #bts #jungkook e2l au #fic: rivals in flight #jksian🤍

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callsigns-haze · 4 months ago

Text

You knew? Part 2 of 3

Part 1

Pairing: Bradley Rooster Bradshaw x Reader! Callsign Ace

Chapter Summary: A week after Ace's near-fatal crash, she finally wakes up in the hospital, recovering from her injuries. Rooster, who has avoided seeing her since the email debacle, finally gathers the courage to visit her. Their conversation is tense and filled with unresolved emotions, as Ace confronts him about the betrayal she felt after discovering he was behind the anonymous flirtatious emails.

This chapter contains themes of emotional conflict, betrayal, and recovery from a near-death experience. Expect tense dialogue and unresolved emotions.

The sun cast a golden glow over the runway as the Daggers prepped for another intense day of training. Jets roared to life, ready to take off into the clear sky. The Dagger Squadron was assembled, but there was a noticeable shift in the air.

Ace, usually vibrant and at the centre of their group, had been distant for the past two months. Ever since the email incident, she’d cut ties with Rooster, Phoenix, not really Hangman as he was her wingman so she forgave him, steering clear of their usual hangouts at the Hard Deck and avoiding meals with the squad.

Now, she focused solely on her flying. Her interactions were brief, professional, and limited to the cockpit. As she strapped into her Dagger and prepared for the upcoming dogfight training, the silence between her and the rest of the squad was deafening. Today’s exercise was set: a mock dogfight in the air, with Ace flying solo against Coyote in his own Dagger, while Payback and Fanboy flew as a pair.

The jets ascended into the sky, climbing higher until the blue expanse stretched endlessly beneath them. The radio crackled with orders as they spread out, the simulated combat about to begin.

"All right, Ace, you’re up. Let’s see what you got," Coyote’s voice buzzed through the comms, a hint of competitive energy in his tone.

Ace’s eyes narrowed in concentration, her fingers gripping the controls as she scanned the sky for her opponents. She banked sharply to the left, cutting through the clouds as she trailed Coyote from above, attempting to line up her shot.

"You’ve gotta be quicker than that, Ace," Coyote taunted, pulling into a sharp climb to shake her off.

She smirked, pushing her Dagger to match his altitude, refusing to give him an inch. Behind them, Payback and Fanboy weaved through the air, keeping their distance while searching for an opening to strike.

The chase was fast and relentless. Ace and Coyote danced through the sky, trading sharp turns and evasive manoeuvres. The thrill of the hunt filled the airwaves, with each Dagger trying to gain the upper hand.

Then, without warning, Ace’s jet jolted.

"Warning: Engine failure. Malfunction detected," the voice in her cockpit announced in a cold, mechanical tone.

Her heart rate spiked as she checked her instruments. Something was wrong. The controls were sluggish, her jet unresponsive to her commands. She tried to stabilize, but the Dagger began to spiral out of control.

"Ace, what’s going on? You’re dropping altitude!" Coyote’s voice crackled over the radio.

She fought against the controls, panic clawing at her as the Dagger dipped into a sharp nosedive. The ground rushed toward her, but her body felt heavy, her vision blurring at the edges. She was slipping into G-LOC—G-force-induced loss of consciousness. Her breath became shallow, her body unable to react.

"Ace! You need to eject!" Payback’s voice boomed over the comms, urgency bleeding through the static.

But no one saw her eject. Her Dagger spiralled, falling faster as she lost the battle to stay conscious. On the ground, the entire squad was glued to the monitors, watching the terrifying descent. Rooster, Phoenix, Hangman, and the others stood frozen, their eyes trained on the screens, waiting for the tell-tale flash of her ejection.

But it never came.

"Come on, Ace… pull the damn handle!" Rooster muttered under his breath, his fingers white-knuckled around his headset.

"She’s not ejecting. Is she unconscious?" Phoenix asked, her voice tight with fear.

Coyote pulled his Dagger up beside Ace’s, trying to get a visual. But it was too late. Her jet continued to plummet, the altitude rapidly decreasing.

"Mayday, mayday!" Coyote called out, desperation lacing his voice as he watched helplessly.

From the ground, they saw her jet spiral down until it disappeared from the screen. Silence filled the control room, the team paralyzed with shock as the realization hit.

"Did she—" Hangman started, but his words were caught in his throat.

No one saw her eject.

Coyote, Fanboy, and Payback, who had been up in the sky with her, were immediately recalled back to base. The radio buzzed with orders.

"Coyote, Fanboy, Payback—return to base. Now," the voice over the comms was firm, but there was no mistaking the urgency.

"Roger that," Coyote responded, his voice unusually sombre. He felt a weight pressing against his chest. None of them had seen Ace eject, and the sinking realization of what that might mean gnawed at him as he flew back.

The three Daggers touched down swiftly, their wheels skidding across the runway as they taxied to a stop. Before they could even unstrap from their jets, the rest of the squad came running, concern etched on their faces.

Rooster was the first to reach Coyote, grabbing his flight suit as he yanked him toward him, eyes wide with fear and questions. "Did you see her eject? Did she make it out?"

Coyote shook his head, face grim. "I didn’t see anything. I tried to get close, but she wasn’t responding. I couldn’t—"

Rooster let him go, stumbling back slightly as his mind raced. "No... no, no, no..." he muttered under his breath. Phoenix and Hangman rushed to Fanboy and Payback, their faces pale, voices rapid with questions.

"How low was she?" Phoenix asked, her voice trembling. "Did she even have time?"

"She was already in a nosedive when I saw her," Fanboy said, his hands shaking slightly. "It happened so fast."

Payback wiped his face with his gloved hand, trying to steady his breathing. "She didn’t respond to any of the comms. I don’t think she had time to eject."

Behind them, Maverick appeared, his expression stern and focused. He didn’t ask questions. Instead, he headed straight for the medical search plane, already prepared to take off. Without a word, he boarded, motioning for the search crew to follow.

"Let’s go. We need to find her," Maverick ordered, his voice commanding, though there was a heaviness to his tone that wasn’t missed by the others.

As the search and rescue plane lifted off, the remaining Daggers were left on the tarmac, standing in a tense, suffocating silence. Rooster, Phoenix, Hangman, Coyote, Fanboy, Payback, and Bob all stood in a loose circle, watching the horizon, their minds racing with the possibility of what they might hear next.

Minutes passed like hours. No one said a word. The weight of what might have happened to Ace settled over them like a heavy blanket, each of them replaying her crash in their heads, trying to make sense of it.

Finally, the radio crackled.

"We’ve located her Dagger," a voice came through. "Wreckage is extensive... no sign of an ejection. We’re sending in the medics now."

Rooster clenched his fists, trying to hold himself together. Phoenix closed her eyes, a silent prayer forming in her mind. Hangman paced back and forth, unable to stand still, his face tight with worry.

Maverick’s voice came next, calmer, but tense. "We found her. She’s alive, but barely. She’s in bad shape. Get the medics ready at base—she’ll need immediate attention."

The relief was immediate but short-lived, crashing against the rising tide of panic. "Alive" didn’t mean safe. Rooster stepped closer to the comms, trying to catch every word, his knuckles white as he gripped the edge of the table.

"Severe condition," Maverick continued. "Multiple injuries, possibly from G-LOC and impact. We’re stabilizing her now, but it’s critical. She needs to be flown out immediately."

Phoenix covered her mouth with her hand, her eyes wide with tears she fought to hold back. Fanboy turned away, unable to face the others as the reality hit. Hangman stopped pacing, his fists clenching by his sides. The usually cocky pilot was quiet, his expression unreadable, but the tension in his posture was clear.

The medical team on base was already on standby, rushing toward the landing area as the search plane prepared to return. The remaining Daggers gathered near the runway, standing in a tight group, waiting for any sign of Ace. Each of them wrestled with their thoughts, guilt creeping into their minds—wondering if there was something they could have done, something they missed.

Minutes later, the medical search plane landed with Ace on board, strapped to a stretcher and surrounded by medics. They worked quickly, moving her onto a gurney as they rushed toward the base’s medical centre. Maverick followed closely behind, his jaw set, but the worry was clear in his eyes.

Rooster watched, his heart pounding in his chest. The brief glimpse he got of her was enough to make his stomach drop—she was pale, her body bruised and battered, a mask over her face supplying oxygen. It was clear she was hanging on by a thread.

"Is she going to make it?" Hangman asked quietly, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.

No one had an answer. The squad stood in stunned silence, watching as their teammate, their friend, was whisked away to the medical wing, her fate uncertain.

Phoenix swallowed hard, her voice barely above a whisper. "She has to make it. She has to."

Ace was rushed through the hallways of the base’s medical centre, her stretcher surrounded by a flurry of medics shouting urgent commands. The sound of her ragged breathing through the oxygen mask was barely audible over the hurried footsteps. Her face was pale, her body still and battered from the G-LOC and subsequent crash. The medics moved with precision, wheeling her straight to the emergency trauma unit.

“We need to get her into surgery now!” one of the medics yelled, pushing open the doors to the operating theater.

The surgeons were already scrubbed in, awaiting her arrival. IV lines were attached, monitors were set up, and the sound of beeping machines filled the room. Her vital signs were weak, teetering on the edge of stability. The head surgeon quickly assessed her injuries, noting the signs of severe trauma from both the high G-force and the crash impact.

"She’s got multiple fractures, possible internal bleeding, and signs of severe G-LOC trauma," the surgeon announced, as they began prepping for surgery.

The doors to the operating room swung shut, and the medics filed out, leaving Ace in the hands of the surgical team.

In the Hallway

Outside, the Dagger Squad sat in the waiting area, the tension suffocating. None of them had said much since Ace was wheeled away. Rooster leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, staring at the ground as if trying to make sense of the last few hours. His mind was racing with worry and guilt. He’d been tough on Ace, both in the air and on the ground, and now she was fighting for her life.

Phoenix sat next to him, her foot tapping nervously against the floor, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. She couldn’t shake the image of Ace’s jet spiralling out of control, nor the sight of her pale, motionless body when she was brought in. "Come on, Ace," she whispered under her breath.

Hangman paced the length of the hallway, his usual bravado completely absent. His jaw was clenched, fists balled tightly at his sides. He’d been the one who set up the whole email situation, thinking it was just some harmless fun. Even though she forgave him, they still weren't back to normal. Now, guilt gnawed at him with every step he took.

"She’s tough. She’ll pull through," Hangman muttered to himself, but it sounded more like a prayer than a statement of confidence.

Coyote sat further down the row, staring blankly at the door leading to the operating room. He replayed the training flight in his head, going over every detail, wondering if there was something—anything—he could have done differently to prevent the crash.

Fanboy and Payback sat together, whispering to each other every now and then, though their voices were low and full of worry. Bob, the quietest of the group, sat against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, his face a mix of worry and helplessness.

The minutes dragged on. Every time a nurse or doctor walked through the hall, the squad straightened, hoping for an update, but the news never came. The tension was thick in the air, each of them lost in their own thoughts, consumed by fear for their friend.

Maverick entered the hallway, his face a grim mask of calm. He had been overseeing the rescue efforts, but now that Ace was in surgery, there was nothing more he could do but wait. He exchanged a few silent nods with the group before sitting beside Rooster.

“How is she?” Rooster asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“They’re doing everything they can,” Maverick replied, his tone steady but strained. He knew better than anyone how critical the situation was, but he didn’t want to add to their already overwhelming fears.

Hours seemed to pass as they sat in silence, the only sounds in the hallway being the occasional shuffle of footsteps or the distant hum of medical equipment. No one knew what to say, and the weight of uncertainty hung heavily over them all.

Every so often, one of them would glance toward the operating room doors, hoping to see a doctor emerge with good news. But the doors remained shut, and the tension in the room grew thicker with each passing second.

Finally, the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. The squad all turned toward the noise, holding their breath. A nurse approached, her expression neutral, but the look in her eyes was serious.

“The surgery’s still ongoing,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “It’s going to be a long one. She’s stable for now, but it’s critical. The doctors are doing everything they can.”

“Stable,” Phoenix repeated, the word a fragile lifeline she clung to. “That’s something.”

The nurse nodded. “It is. But it’s still touch and go. We’ll keep you updated.”

The squad nodded in unison, though the news wasn’t as reassuring as they’d hoped. The wait continued, with everyone’s minds now filled with images of Ace in the operating room, fighting for her life.

Each of them sat, stood, or paced, trying to pass the time, but every second felt like an eternity as they waited for any sign that Ace would be okay.

----

One Week Later

The sterile scent of the hospital room lingered in the air, blending with the steady beeping of the machines that monitored Ace’s vitals. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting soft shadows across the room. Ace lay in the bed, her body still aching from the injuries she’d sustained, but she was finally awake. Her head throbbed faintly, and her muscles felt weak, but she was conscious—and alive.

It had been a week since the crash. A week of surgeries, recovery, and slowly regaining her strength. The Dagger Squad had visited her throughout the week, offering support and well-wishes, but Rooster hadn’t shown up once.

She wasn’t surprised. After the email situation, their relationship had soured more than ever. The betrayal she’d felt after realizing it was Rooster on the other end of those flirtatious emails still stung, even more so after the crash. She had expected him to stay away.

As she stared at the ceiling, lost in thought, the door creaked open. She looked over, and her eyes widened slightly as Rooster stepped inside, his expression uncertain.

"Hey," he said softly, his voice a little rough, like he had rehearsed what he was going to say a thousand times but still wasn’t sure how to begin.

Ace tensed slightly but didn’t say anything right away. Her eyes flickered with a mix of surprise and something else—resentment, maybe—but she masked it quickly, keeping her face neutral.

Rooster took a few hesitant steps toward the chair by her bed. He looked uncomfortable, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his flight suit as he stood awkwardly by the door, unsure if he should sit or not.

“I—uh, I thought I should come by,” he continued, finally deciding to sit down. He ran a hand through his hair, the familiar nervous gesture she had seen countless times before, but now it felt different. “It’s been... a lot.”

Ace raised an eyebrow, though the movement sent a dull ache through her head. “A lot,” she repeated, her voice flat.

Rooster winced at her tone but didn’t back down. “I know I should’ve come sooner. I just—didn’t know what to say after everything. After what happened with the emails and then... this,” he gestured vaguely toward her, indicating her injuries.

Ace remained silent, her eyes focused on him but her face giving nothing away. She wasn’t ready to make this easy for him, not after everything that had happened between them.

He sighed, leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I know I screwed up with the whole email thing. I didn’t mean for it to... go the way it did, I didn't know it was you at the start either. It was supposed to be some dumb fun, but it hurt you, and I’m sorry.”

Ace’s jaw tightened, her mind flashing back to the moment she had discovered Rooster was the one behind the anonymous emails. The betrayal still felt fresh, even after weeks of avoiding him.

“You have no idea,” she said quietly, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. “You have no idea how much that messed with my head, Bradley.”

Rooster flinched at the use of his first name, a sign of how serious things had gotten. She almost never called him that. “I know. I get that now.”

“No,” Ace interrupted, her voice stronger now, though strained from disuse. “You don’t get it. You thought it was a game. I thought... I don’t know what I thought, but it wasn’t that. You led me on, Rooster. And for what? A joke? Some sick competition?”

Rooster looked down at his hands, guilt written all over his face. “It wasn’t like that. I didn’t—” He paused, searching for the right words. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It just got out of hand.”

Ace clenched her fists beneath the hospital blanket, frustration bubbling up inside her. She had spent weeks—months—trying to figure out why she had been so blindsided by him. It wasn’t just the betrayal, it was everything leading up to it—the animosity, the tension, the constant bickering. And then, suddenly, the emails had made her think there was something different, something more.

“Out of hand?” she echoed, her voice bitter. “You humiliated me.”

Rooster’s gaze shot up, his expression pained. “I didn’t mean to.”

Ace exhaled sharply, leaning back against the pillows, exhausted from the conversation but too frustrated to stop. “And then you didn’t even come to see me. Not once. I almost died, Rooster.”

He looked like he had been punched. “I know. I was... I didn’t think you’d want to see me. After everything.”

“That’s your excuse?” she asked, her voice laced with disbelief. “I’ve been lying here, dealing with all of this, and you just couldn’t be bothered to show up because you were afraid?”

Rooster opened his mouth to respond but stopped, realizing there was nothing he could say that would make it right. He couldn’t take back what he’d done, and he couldn’t fix the way he’d hurt her.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice raw. “For everything. For not coming sooner. For the emails. For being an idiot.”

The room was thick with tension, the air heavy between them. Ace watched him, her anger simmering beneath the surface. She didn’t know if she could forgive him—not yet, maybe not ever—but part of her was too tired to keep fighting.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Rooster added, his voice almost a whisper. He looked at her with genuine concern, the guilt and regret clear in his eyes.

Ace didn’t respond right away. Instead, she closed her eyes and let out a long, slow breath. “I don’t know what to say to you right now, Rooster.”

He nodded, standing up slowly. “I get it. I won��t push you. But I’m here if you ever want to talk. I mean it.”

Ace opened her eyes, watching him as he moved toward the door. He hesitated for a moment before glancing back at her. “Take care of yourself, Ace.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving her alone with her thoughts, the weight of their conversation settling heavily on her shoulders.

Please comment, like and reblog!

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onebadassunicorn · 27 days ago

Text

His Blue-Eyed Angel

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: talk of mutilation (clipping of wings)

word count: 4.7k

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

story tags: @bravo-delta-eccho, @tiredsleepyhead, @tele86

***************

Chapter 4

Y/n POV

The morning sunlight bathed Velaris in a soft golden glow, illuminating the city’s vibrant streets and sparkling waters. I stood at the front of the House of Wind, my dark, feathered wings tucked neatly behind me as I waited for Azriel. A faint breeze tugged at my hair, carrying with it the faint hum of the city waking up below.

I must admit…it was nice not to have to glamour my wings while in Velaris. I felt a sense of hope, like I could be myself without having to worry about what others might think of me and want to take from me.

I glanced up when I heard the sound of boots against stone, my eyes meeting Azriel’s as he approached. He was dressed simply, his wings tucked against his back, but there was an unmistakable air of quiet confidence about him. His hazel eyes locked on mine.

“Good morning,” Azriel said, his voice low and steady.

“Morning,” I replied with a small smile, adjusting the strap of the satchel slung over my shoulder. “Ready when you are.”

Azriel nodded, gesturing toward the cliffside path that led down into the city. “We’ll start at the Sidra,” he said, his tone businesslike. “It’s the heart of Velaris. From there, we’ll see the Rainbow and the markets.”

I followed him as we began our descent, the city sprawling out below them like a painting. The air was crisp, the sunlight catching the rooftops and cobblestones in a way that made everything seem impossibly vibrant. I couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it, my wings twitching slightly as I took it all in.

“It’s… beautiful,” I whispered, taking in all the sights and sounds of the city.

Azriel’s lips twitched slightly, the faintest hint of a smile. “It is,” he agreed, his hazel eyes flicking to mine briefly before returning to the path ahead. “Velaris is more than just a city. It’s a sanctuary. A place where people can feel safe.”

As we reached the Sidra, the river sparkled in the morning light, its gentle currents reflecting the colors of the sky. I paused, my gaze sweeping over the water and the bustling streets along its banks. Vendors were setting up their stalls, the scent of fresh bread and flowers filling the air.

“This is the Sidra,” Azriel said, stopping beside me. “It runs through the heart of Velaris. A lot of life here revolves around it.”

I nodded, my eyes lingering on the water. “It reminds me of the Summer Court,” I said softly. “The way the water seems to hold the light.”

Azriel’s gaze shifted to me, his expression softening slightly. “You’ll find that Velaris has its own kind of light,” he said, his voice quieter now. “It’s subtle, but it’s always there.”

They continued walking, Azriel leading me through the winding streets of the Rainbow. The colors of the artist’s quarter were vivid and lively, the walls adorned with murals, and the air filled with the sound of musicians tuning their instruments. I stopped to admire a mural of a phoenix, my lips curving into a faint smile.

“Do you like art?” Azriel asked, his tone neutral but his eyes watchful.

“I do,” I replied, tracing the edge of the mural with my gaze. “My mother used to paint when she had the time. I always found it fascinating—the way colors can tell a story.”

Azriel nodded. “The Rainbow is where Velaris’s artists thrive,” he said. “If you ever want to explore it further, you’ll find no shortage of inspiration here.”

We moved on to the markets, where the lively chatter of vendors and shoppers filled the air. My gaze darted from one stall to the next, my curiosity evident as I stopped to examine a table of intricate jewelry. I picked up a bracelet made of woven silver and tiny sea-blue stones, my fingers brushing over the delicate design. A wave of memories of home and my brother, Tarquin, swept through me.

“It suits you,” Azriel said quietly, standing just behind me.

I glanced at him, my cheeks warming slightly at the unexpected compliment. “It reminds me of home,” I said softly, setting the bracelet back down. “The ocean.”

Azriel’s hazel eyes lingered on me for a moment, something unspoken passing between them before he looked away. “There’s more to see,” he said, his voice steady. “Come on.”

As we continued our tour, I found myself relaxing more, the beauty of Velaris and Azriel’s quiet presence easing the tension I hadn’t realized I’d been carrying. And though Azriel kept his tone professional, there was a softness in his gestures—a subtle care in the way he adjusted his pace to match mine, in the way he answered my questions with quiet patience.

******

Azriel POV

Azriel had never been one for crowds, but as he stood beside Y/n, he couldn’t help but feel the magnetic pull of the city’s warmth. Velaris, the City of Starlight, was a place of beauty and magic, and even though it was filled with people, it felt intimate with the right company. Today Y/n was that company.

The soft breeze ruffled his dark hair as they walked side by side, and he noticed how she seemed to light up whenever they passed a shop or a stall. Her eyes sparkled with a quiet wonder, a stark contrast to the tension that had often marked her presence before.

Azriel could sense a subtle nervousness in her. He figured she had not been truly this close to people she didn’t know very well. He had always been the quiet shadow, the one who lurked in the background, never quite allowing himself to show the depth of his feelings. But now, with her beside him, he wanted to do more than simply accompany her; he wanted to know her.

“I can see why my brother has fought to protect Velaris and its people.” Y/n murmured, her voice quiet but filled with awe as she looked up at the mountains and sky. Her Illyrian wings fluttered slightly, almost as though they too were entranced by the city’s magic.

Azriel glanced at her, unable to ignore the way the sun seemed to reflect in her eyes, or how her long black hair seemed to shimmer as it caught the sunlight. He could see how she stood taller here—more at ease, more herself, and it made something inside him stir in response.

She looked at him then, her gaze meeting his with a vulnerability he hadn’t expected. Her lips parted slightly, as if she were about to say something, but instead, she just smiled. Azriel could feel the weight of her thoughts, the storm behind her eyes that she had yet to share with him. He wondered if she had any idea how much he wanted to hear them.

As they moved deeper into the city, they passed an artist’s gallery, and Y/n paused, drawn to the paintings displayed in the window. One caught her attention—a painting of a landscape with sweeping hills and a crashing ocean. She stood there for a moment, her eyes soft and reflective. Azriel watched her in silence, wondering what memories the painting stirred within her. He could sense her hesitation, the guardedness she wore like armor, and he couldn’t help but want to unravel it, piece by piece.

“What is it?” he asked gently, his voice almost too soft, careful not to break the moment.

Y/n glanced at him, her lips curving into a small, hesitant smile. “It reminds me of home,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Of the cliffs by the sea. The waves crashing against the rocks… the sky always so wide. It was where I felt most... free.”

Azriel didn’t speak for a long time, letting her words hang in the air between them. He only knew things about her past that Tarquin had mentioned, but nothing beyond that. But in that moment, he understood something important. Her beauty wasn’t just in the way she looked, in the way her wings spread so gracefully behind her. It was in the quiet depth of her experiences, the things she had lost, the parts of herself she still carried with her.

“I didn’t know that about you,” Azriel said softly, stepping closer, his voice uncharacteristically open. “But I think I’d like to know more.”

Y/n turned toward him, her eyes searching his face, as though she were trying to read him in the same way. “You’re not what I expected,” she said, her tone thoughtful, as if she were still trying to reconcile this new version of him. “I always thought you were just... shadows. But you’re not like that, are you?”

Azriel gave a slight smile, the corners of his mouth twitching up. “No,” he admitted quietly. “I’m not. But I’ve spent so much of my life hiding, I’m not used to letting people in.”

She nodded, her expression softening as if she understood, and for a moment, there was a shared understanding between them—a recognition of the walls they both carried. It made Azriel feel both vulnerable and exposed, but also strangely at peace.

“I get that,” she said, her voice steady, yet there was something deeper in it, something that felt like a promise. “But sometimes, letting someone in is the only way to heal.”

***************

Azriel POV

The quiet walk through Velaris became something of an unspoken conversation between them. They didn’t need to fill every moment with words. Their shared silences, the way their steps fell in sync with one another, said more than any conversation could. Y/n’s presence, her beauty, the vulnerability that she wore like a second skin, all seemed to pull him closer, as though every step brought them just a little bit closer to understanding one another.

And when they finally reached the Heart of the City, standing near the glowing fountains, Y/n turned to him with a quiet smile, and for the first time in a long while, Azriel felt a sense of peace settle in his chest. They hadn’t spoken much, but somehow, in this place, with her beside him, he felt as though he had finally started to understand her—and perhaps, she was starting to understand him too.

Y/n broke the silence first.

"Summer Court," she began, her voice softer now, almost as if she were saying the words out loud for the first time. "Is always warm. The sun never truly sets, not in the way it does here." She paused, her lips curving into a small, bittersweet smile. "The air smells like saltwater, flowers, and sunshine. And the beaches... the beaches are golden. Endless stretches of sand where the sky and the sea seemed to melt together. It is a place of peace. My peace."

“I decided to accept Rhysand’s offer to come to Velaris because I was scared,” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “I was scared of being trapped in a world where I couldn’t be myself. But even now, I wonder if I made the right choice.” Her voice trembled slightly. “I don’t really know if I’ll ever be able to return there—if I even want to. I just don’t know where I truly belong, Azriel. My family, my being an Illyrian female with different wings and strangely-colored eyes... it’s just not simple.”

Azriel stayed silent, letting her words settle between them. He could feel her heart laid bare before him, the raw vulnerability she had never shared with anyone else.

Azriel’s gaze softened as he reached out, his hand brushing against hers in a gesture of quiet comfort. He could feel the weight of her emotions, the complexity of her feelings for Tarquin, for her home, and for the place she had left behind. It wasn’t just a story about a family divided; it was about the struggle between who she had been and who she was still becoming.

"You don't have to return to Summer Court. You can stay in Velaris with your family if you choose. Azriel said softly, his voice carrying the depth of his understanding. "And you don’t have to carry this alone. Whatever it is, whatever is weighing on you, you don’t have to face it by yourself. You have a family here now too that will help you with that decision whenever you’re ready."

Y/n’s voice dropped to a whisper, as though the very memory of her past had the power to unravel her. Azriel, always patient, stood silently beside her, the weight of her words pulling at him.

“My mother...” she began, her gaze distant, her tone weighted with grief. “She did what she had to do to protect me.”

Azriel didn’t press her to go further, knowing she would share in her own time. Instead, he gave her the quiet space to breathe, to find her voice.

“She knew what they would do if they found me in Illyria,” Y/n continued, her voice trembling slightly.

“They didn’t know what to do with me when I was born,” Y/n stated, her gaze fixing on the ground as if she could still feel the weight of that rejection, that fear. “My wings... my wings were nothing like theirs. Theirs were strong, broad, designed for battle, but mine... mine were different. They were smaller, more fragile. My mother told me they were feathered, delicate—like the wings of a bird, not an Illyrian warrior. I could never fly the way they did.”

Azriel could hear the pain in her voice, the hurt of being different, of having something so beautiful and yet so feared. There was nothing wrong with her wings, but he knew the truth of the Illyrian males—they feared what they didn’t understand.

“They thought I was weak,” she continued, her voice hardening with the bitterness she had long kept hidden. “They were afraid that I’d be a liability, something to be ashamed of. There were whispers... about how I wouldn’t be able to fight alongside them. I was just a baby at the time so I don’t recollect it, but my mother told me what was said later on when she came to visit me.” She shook her head, as if the memories were too painful to relive. “My mother, she could see it—she could see the way they looked at me, the way they treated me like I wasn’t one of them.”

Azriel’s fists clenched involuntarily, the surge of anger building within him, but he held it back, not wanting to push her. He could feel her emotions like a shadow, pulling at the edges of his mind, and the truth of what had happened to her—how her very existence had been rejected by her own kind—made him ache for her in a way he hadn’t expected.

“She couldn’t let them hurt me,” Y/n said, her voice barely above a whisper. “So, she did what she thought was the only thing she could. She took me away. Snuck me out of Illyria.”

“She took me to the Summer Court,” she continued, her voice softer now, filled with a kind of reverence that Azriel hadn’t expected. “I was told about my father, the High Lord of the Summer Court and met my half-brother, Tarquin. He was young then, but he was kind. My father along with Tarquin promised her that I would be safe there, that no one would hurt me. And she believed him.” Y/n’s lips trembled slightly.

“My mother had been with him—Tarquin’s father, when he was a High Lord," Y/n said, her voice thick with the pain of the past. "I didn’t know him, not really. He was... well, not the kind of man my mother ever spoke of with affection. She never told me the truth about him, not about the way he treated her, not about anything that had really happened between them. Nothing about him actually, but she kept the secret for years. And she kept me—me, her daughter, from him—so that I would never know who he was until she decided she no longer had a choice. She was terrified of what the Illyrian males would do to me once they saw what I was. She couldn’t risk it. The truth was, they had no place for me, not with wings like mine. They would have taken them from me if they had the chance. It wasn’t just fear—it was what they had done to others who didn’t fit their mold. My mother was afraid that my wings, my difference, would make me a target. And so, she gave me away... sent me away for my own safety. And I grew up for many years without her, only seeing her on visits as she would travel through Summer Court with rescued Illyrian females…”

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with a pain Azriel could only imagine. He knew all too well the violence of the Illyrian males, the way they looked down on anything that didn’t fit their strict, unyielding expectations. It was why he, too, had been forced to live in the shadows. But hearing her speak of it—hearing how it had been her wings that had made her a target—cut deeper than anything else.

“You don’t have to explain,” Azriel murmured, his voice gentle as he reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over the back of her fingers. “You don’t have to carry this anymore, Y/n. Not alone.”

Y/n gave him a tight, almost fragile smile, and for a moment, Azriel thought she might cry. But she didn’t. Instead, she simply nodded, grateful for his understanding.

Y/n's breath caught in her throat as she spoke of the next revelation, her voice soft, almost in disbelief as the memories came rushing back, each word wrapped in the quietest sorrow.

“It wasn’t long after I learned about Tarquin’s being my half-brother that my mother... she told me the rest of it on her last visit to Summer Court,” Y/n said, her gaze distant, as though the very memory of it still had the power to freeze her in place. She paused for a moment, gathering the words she’d never thought she would need to say aloud.

Azriel stayed silent, his focus entirely on her, his presence a quiet reassurance as she shared this deeply personal part of herself.

“My mother had always been so careful with her words when it came to Rhysand,” Y/n continued, her voice wavering slightly as if speaking his name caused something ancient to stir within her. “She never spoke of him much. She always referred to him as ‘the prince of the Night Court,’ or ‘the High Lord of the Night Court’—never his name. But one day, when I was older... she couldn’t keep it from me anymore.”

Y/n closed her eyes for a brief moment, as if reliving the pain of that moment. Azriel could see the hesitation, the uncertainty still present in her every movement. The weight of what she was about to reveal was not lost on him.

“My mother... she told me she was his mother. That Rhysand was my half-brother. That she had given birth to him before me.” Her voice grew quiet, almost a whisper now. "It didn’t make sense at first, not to me. When she spoke of him, it was with a quiet reverence I couldn’t understand. But then she told me... she told me that he was born before me, that his father had been the one she had loved—the one she had kept close—and that she had come to love my father, the High Lord of Summer Court, in a different way. And somehow, from that, Rhysand was her firstborn, and I... I came second."

“She told me Rhysand was always meant for greatness, but that he was so much like his father—but also different in so many ways. And when I came along, it was like I was... an afterthought, a piece that didn’t fit. That’s why my mother had to take me away, keep me safe from what would’ve happened to me had I stayed with them.” Her voice dropped lower, as though the memories had become too heavy to bear. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How fate works. To be born of the same mother, to share the same blood with someone you’ve only met later in life, only to find out you’ve always been connected in ways you never understood.”

Azriel could feel the depth of her emotions, the confusion, the pain of having grown up without truly knowing the full extent of her family. The way Y/n spoke of it—as though she had never truly belonged to anyone—cut through him like a knife.

“I couldn’t help but wonder,” Y/n continued, a bitter edge creeping into her words, “if my mother had kept that truth from me on purpose. If she had been trying to protect me, or if it was just too painful for her to speak of it. She and Rhysand’s father, they had... their own history and lives together.”

"How did you feel when you learned the truth?" Azriel asked gently, wanting to understand the depth of what she had endured.

Y’n's gaze softened as she looked at him, though there was still a veil of sadness in her eyes. "At first, it was... too much. I didn’t know how to process it. I was just a baby when my mother sent me away, when I was taken to Summer Court for protection. I had never known about Rhysand or any of the other complexities of my lineage. And when my mother told me the truth, I didn’t know how to reconcile it. To think that I had been so close to him—so close—and never even realized it. To find out that my half-brother was someone so... important. So vastly different from me.”

Azriel nodded, understanding the hurt behind her words. "It's hard, when everything you've known about your past, your family, is turned upside down. It feels like a lie. Like it was all kept from you for so long, and now you're just supposed to accept it."

"Exactly," Y/n agreed, a quiet resignation in her voice. "To know we share the same blood but nothing else, and he never even knew about me until... until recently. It hurts."

“I think that’s why it’s always been hard for me,” she said softly. “I know I’ll never belong there. I’ll never be one of them. I’ll always be... different. I don’t really belong in Summer Court either. Sure, I have the same abilities with manipulating water that my father has, but I’ve never had the courage to show anyone who I really am. Not until now.” Her voice caught on the last words, but she steadied herself. “My mother wanted to protect me, to keep me safe. And I... I don’t even remember if I ever thanked her for that.”

Y/n’s eyes met his then, something raw and unspoken passing between them. She hadn’t been sure about him at first—hadn’t known if she could trust him—but the quiet honesty in his eyes gave her a strange sense of comfort. Azriel wasn’t perfect, and neither was she, but in this moment, it felt like they didn’t have to be.

As she continued to gaze at him, Azriel saw the faintest glimmer of relief in her eyes. She was starting to let the weight of her past settle, not because it was gone, but because she wasn’t facing it alone anymore.

And for the first time, Y/n felt a sliver of hope—that maybe, just maybe, she could start to heal.

******

Azriel POV

As they wandered onward, the knowledge of their bond lay heavy and secret within Azriel’s chest, both a blessing and a curse. He felt the tether that joined him to Y/n humming quietly beneath his skin, a silent vow inscribed in his very bones. However, each time another male’s gaze lingered too long on her face, on the graceful line of her neck, Azriel’s senses sharpened almost painfully. He knew this feeling—primal and protective, as old as the magic that made them mates—yet she remained unaware of its true nature.

He couldn’t resent these strangers for seeing her beauty. She was radiant, a steady light who’d guided him from solitude into quiet joy. He had no claim on her beyond what his heart and soul had forged in secret. The bond remained concealed. He hadn’t spoken of it, not yet. Perhaps he feared how that knowledge might burden her. Perhaps he worried that naming it aloud would demand a response she was not ready to give. He had promised himself that he would not force the bond upon her, that he would not use fate’s decree as a chain. And if she ever learned of the bond between them - if she chose him, it must be of her own will, not because the Cauldron or Mother decreed it.

But the truth weighed heavily in moments like this, when hunger or interest sparked in another’s eyes. Mates were drawn to one another beyond logic or reason, and while Azriel fought to keep his outward composure, inside something raw and protective snarled at the attention Y/n received. He tried to soothe it with reason: she was free, she deserved to be cherished. He would not become a cage around her. He would respect her freedom, always.

Still, the lack of her knowledge pressed at him. If she knew they were mates, would these lingering glances bother him so profoundly? Perhaps then he might stand at her side with quiet confidence, assured that no passing admiration could shake the foundation they shared. It would eclipse any casual interest others displayed, rendering it harmless.

But she didn’t know, and so he bore the weight of uncertainty alone. Each admiring look from a stranger chafed at the fragile hope he carried that one day she would see him as he saw her—part of her soul, although he knew he didn’t deserve such a gift. He kept his silence, not wanting to push, not wanting her to think her choices were predetermined. He had promised himself that when he told her, it would be at the right time, with the right words, so she understood that he wanted her happiness more than anything else—even if it meant risking that she might not return his feelings in full measure.

Now, as they paused in front of a tailor’s display, he studied the line of her face reflected in the glass. She held up a swatch of deep blue fabric, her eyes gleaming with appreciation. He smiled softly, meeting her gaze in the window’s mirrored surface. She offered a small grin in return, and something in that expression was both comforting and painful. Comforting, because the bond thrummed with quiet delight at her presence. Painful, because there were truths still left unspoken, feelings yet to be laid bare.

When another male strolled by and cast an admiring glance in Y/n’s direction, Azriel merely tightened body, careful not to let tension show.

Inside, the bond pulsed. Inside, a quiet storm of possessive love and longing raged. Outwardly, he remained committed to her freedom, committed to her choice—whatever and whenever it might be. For now, he would let the world admire her, let them see the gifts that fate had hidden in her beauty, laughter and strength. And he would stand guard over his secret—that he was her mate, forever changed—even if she remained blissfully unaware.

By the time they returned to the House of Wind, the sun was high in the sky, and Y/n’s heart felt lighter than it had in days. She glanced at Azriel as they reached the top of the stairs, her eyes meeting his.

“Thank you,” she said simply, her voice earnest. “For the tour. It was… more than I expected.”

Azriel inclined his head, his expression calm but his chest tightening slightly at her words. “You’re welcome,” he said, his voice quiet. “If you ever want to see more, let me know. Grab yourself some lunch and I’ll see you in the training ring in afterwards.”

Y/n smiled faintly, and for a moment, the bond between them seemed to hum louder, though she didn’t seem to notice. Azriel, however, felt it acutely—the quiet connection, the growing pull he couldn’t ignore. And as she walked away, he found himself already looking forward to training with her in the afternoon, no matter how much he tried to tell himself otherwise.

Chapter 5

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