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coquettefrancaise · 2 months ago

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the boy is mine

by Brandy, Monica

pair: Azriel x reader ~ 3k

warnings: lewd thoughts, a punch, self-deprecation, down bad shadowsinger

summary: only one person existed in Azriel's eye and it was you

author's note: this is the continuation of rock 'n' roll star! it’s more of an ‘az appreciating/adoring his mate’ story more than anything else lol this feels so all over the place but it felt...right

It was no secret that the Shadowsinger had a mate.

While he had been discreet about the past females he had taken to bed, when he met you, it was as if he suddenly enjoyed having someone to show off.

Something about your little quirks and the way you looked at him had him head over heels in no time.

Like how you hated peeling oranges because the skin dug under your nails and your fingers tended to smell like citrus the rest of the day. Or how you worried over the birds that he accidentally ran into mid-flight. Or-

"I need to think of some way to thank Mor."

Azriel was startled out of his reverie at the sound of your husky voice. He peered down at you where you rested, tucked into his side, fingers tracing the Illyrian tattoos etched onto his skin, warm from slumber.

You both enjoyed spending the mornings this way: waking up twenty minutes before he left for training, and either chatting and cuddling or getting some pre-exercise in.

It was his favorite part of the day. To wake you up with gentle kisses and then hold you close as you absorbed each other's warmth. You always opened your eyes with a pout, stretching your limbs while making precious noises before seeking to press as much of your skin against his.

And when it was time for him to head out, you'd snuggle into his side of the bed, intent on catching more rest. It was a struggle for Azriel to leave you but he knew Cassian would kick his ass if he wasn't in the training ring by dawn.

He had attempted to get you into joining but you quickly found that Valkyrie training hadn't been something you enjoyed. Instead, you preferred doing some pilates or yoga, intent on still toning your body but not by performing excruciating workouts. Preferably after the sunrise too.

"Why?" he asked, rubbing a hand over your arm.

You looked up at him under your lashes, softly illuminated by the dim twilight that crept through the lace curtains, finger climbing up his neck to twist the earring he wore. "Because she's an absolute gods-send and deserves the biggest fruit basket ever made."

Ah. He understood it now.

He didn't know what came over you after he acquired that particular accessory, but he couldn't say he was entirely put off by it. He was entirely put on by it, if anything.

Suddenly, your hands were always on him, whether it be fiddling with his ear, or roaming over his hard muscles, they were always on him.

Not to mention that you had become possessive, glaring at the people who dared a look at Azriel, twice once cursing out a female who had flirted with him.

And clocking one in the face.

You'd been interested in taking painting lessons by Feyre for a while now. Azriel knew how much you enjoyed finding new hobbies. First, it had been pottery, then archery, and now art. The first two had resulted in exploding ceramics and a nearly impaled foot but this one should be safer. Right?

Azriel leaned against the doorframe of the studio, admiring your hunched over form as you worked at your easel, tongue sticking out of your mouth in concentration, brow knitted deeply. He'd have to rub the tense lines out when you were finished to prevent a headache.

He had just returned from a fortnight-long mission in the human lands and arrived to Valeris not even ten minutes ago. He had refused to go home first thing, knowing you wouldn't be there.

It hadn't taken Azriel long to realize that he loathed being wherever you weren't.

His shadows clung to his leathers as he felt all the attention zero in on him. Don't get him wrong; he was used to being stared at but he rarely drew attention intentionally.

Even though most of the room's occupants were intent on Azriel, you and Feyre, who was up front, babbling on about shading, were oblivious to his presence.

He ignored everything else in favor of watching you. It took all that was in him not to walk to where you sat, pull you up into his arms, and take in your body being with his at last.

Cauldron. How had he managed being away from you for two weeks?

At last, the class wrapped up and everyone began washing their brushes, capping their paints, and gathering their belongings, brushing past Azriel on their way out with giggles and batted lahes.

Azriel watched as Feyre walked to where you still sat, pointing at the details of your art with a nod of consideration.

When there was only one fellow student straggling behind, Azriel pushed off the doorframe and strode to you, hand brushing along your bare shoulder in greeting.

Your eyes shot up to where he stood and in no time at all, your arms wrapped around his neck. He chuckled softly, pulling you tighter into his embrace as he took a deep breath of your skin.

"Missed you, baby," he sighed into your ear before pressing a kiss to the skin underneath. "How was class?"

You answered with a hum.

"When'd you get back?"

He opened his eyes to look at Feyre, who was grinning from ear to ear. "About twenty minutes ago."

"You know, Rhys always complains about how you go home to your mate first then write up your report."

Even though her words were meant to be a scold, her eyes shone with understanding.

"He's going to have to deal with it."

You detached yourself from Azriel, much to his dismay, but kept a hand looped around the small of his back and one on his stomach. "I usually have to feed this big guy as soon as he steps foot in Valeris so he doesn't tear off any heads."

Feyre's face scrunched in distaste. "I'd rather not hear about your bedroom activities b-"

Your face turned an adorable shade of red as you interrupted with, "Gods, Feyre! Not what I meant! At all!"

Azriel barely contained his smirk. "That's exactly what she meant."

You rolled your eyes and stepped out of his reach. "Both of you are impossible." You complained as you went about cleaning up your area.

Despite being easily flustered, you were in no way or form a prude. You climbed him like a tree every second you could.

"Could you step up onto the platform for me, Az?"

Azriel snapped out of staring at your ass as you bent over to retrieve a fallen paintbrush. "Hmm?"

Feyre gestured to the lifted platform in the middle of the room.

He hesitated, kissing his teeth before obeying. She was his high lady after all.

She then walked around him, finger tapping her chin as if in deep concentration. Azriel squinted, unused to the harsh glare of lights pointed directly at him. From the few times he'd observed the class, Feyre used this pedestal for the objects her students painted. Were it a bowl of fruit or a model.

Feyre continued to study him with a sharp eye before saying, "I've been thinking of offering a figure study course and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind being the muse?"

Before he could ask what the hell a study figure course was, a strong hand gripped at his arm. You stood at his side- when did you get there? -a murderous glint in your eye. "No way!" you hissed.

Feyre opened her mouth to argue but Azriel intervened with, "First off, what is a study figure course?"

Feyre huffed, "It's a nude anatomy class."

Out of all the things, that was the last thing he thought of.

Your fingers dug deeper into his leathers, bringing him out of his surprise. You were obviously worried- rightly so -that'd he'd accept. He could tell as much by the worry pulsating down the bond, and tight features.

Azriel considered pulling your leg a little but decided against it when an unbidden image flashed in his mind.

There you stood, in a room full of males, clad in nothing but a silk robe, standing on the platform, lights illuminating your exposed skin in a pants-tightening manner. You wore a seductive smile, breasts accentuated by the tie underneath and nipples poking through the nearly see-through fabric.

The males were perched on the edge of their stools, white-knuckled grasps on their art supplies as they hungrily watched you untie your robe. The scant fabric slid off your shoulders until it hit the floor with barely a whisper.

"So?"

Azriel kept his face composed, a lot calmer than he felt inside. "I'm alright, but thank you, Feyre."

He heard the sigh of relief you emitted.

"It was worth a try." Feyre shrugged. "Cassian will be ecstatic to know the position is all his."

"He'll be thrilled." He agreed, leading you out of the room to head home where he could remind himself that you were nobody's but his.

As soon as you both stepped foot outside, Azriel felt his tense shoulders drop, the fresh air clearing his mind of murdering males of his own fabrication.

"For what it's worth, you would have made a hot muse."

The straggling student stepped out from behind Azriel, finger twirling around her hair as she perused him with appreciative eyes.

It seemed that she had overheard the conversation then.

He was going to brush her off politely, but just as Azriel blinked, a fist flew into the female's face, causing her to stumble back with a pained cry.

Holy shit.

Azriel's head whipped down to you, who was rubbing your tender knuckles with a sneer.

You shook with barely contained rage as you spat, "Scram before you have to pay for a nose job." Azriel felt his blood rush south at your display of dominance.

Without further prompting, she fled into the night, hand cupping her bleeding nose.

The streetlights illuminated your scowl ."Don't even think about chastising me ab-"

Your snarky words were cut off by his mouth pursuing yours. He pushed you up against the nearby brick wall, hand cupping the back of your head to take the brunt of the impact.

His tongue swept past your lips, tracing the letters of his name on the roof of your mouth. That action spurred you into moaning, grinding yourself against the knee he slotted between your legs.

You pulled away abruptly, voice thick with arousal. "What in the cauldron?"

Azriel laughed softly, "I've never seen you so violent before, baby."

"Did it turn you on?" your lips curved in a wicked smile.

He brought your hand to his crotch, letting you feel his hardness.

Judging by the heaviness of your eyes and the heat emanating from your body, he'd say you were turned on as well.

"You know I'll never let another female see my body, don't you?" his breath caught in his throat when you squeezed.

"You're mine."

He guessed this was the end of your exploration of the arts.

With how obsessed he had always been with you, it was nice to have it reciprocated. And he only said that because you managed to be a little more subtle with your affections towards him. It was daunting, you had once told him, to be mated to one of the most dangerous males in history, especially in public.

"You really like the earring, huh, baby?"

"I absolutely love it on you," you teased your nails across his abs, causing them to tense. "I love everything about you."

"Especially my body."

"Why do you say that?"

He laughed through his nose at the defensiveness that laced your tone. "You're always ogling me."

You clicked your tongue, "Gods forbid a female has hobbies."

Sweat-dotted, sinewy muscles bulged every time he straightened out of his crunches. Abs tightening with short, controlled breaths.

You were beginning to feel faint with awe-

Azriel couldn't help but falter in his workout at your projected thoughts.

A shadow snickered in his ear that you hadn't taken your eyes off him since the moment he brought you to the training ring.

He'd been unable to sleep, tossing and turning relentlessly, until he decided to sweat off his insomnia. Having felt his shifting off the bed, you begged to join him.

Now, twenty minutes later, he was finishing his warm-up and amused at your open side of the bond.

"Come over here a sec," he sat up, panting softly.

You stood in front of him, arms wrapped around your waist as you waited for him to speak again. He took a moment to admire the cool breeze shifting your tousled hair and the hem of your robe.

"Lay down, baby."

"What?"

"Listen to me," his voice brokered no room for complaints or refusals. "and lay down. Or do I have to-"

You situated yourself along the mat before he could finish his sentence.

"Good girl."

He hovered above you, hands pinned above your shoulders, toes beneath yours. One of the things he appreciated about being nearly two times your size, was that he could dominate you in any position.

"You've behaved well today, haven't you?"

You nodded eagerly.

He lowered himself down into a push-up and pecked your lips, causing you to giggle.

He continued the process, laughing himself at your excited wriggling.

"I saw myself through your eyes earlier and I have to admit that you've done wonderful for yourself, choosing me to spend the rest of your life with."

"Someone's cocky," you puckered your lips when he went down again. "But now you see what I have to compete for everyday."

"Compete?" he moved to sit on his knees, watching you in confusion.

You sat up as well, biting at the inside of your cheek. "Yes, all of Prythian knows you're my mate and husband. But do they keep their hands and eyes to themselves? Ha!"

Azriel never thought twice about anyone other than you, so he didn't know why you were feeling so insecure about his attention. He'd rather carve out his eyes with Truth-Teller than look at anyone else.

He crushed you to his chest, uncaring that you were being smothered in his sweat.

Apparently, neither did you, seeing as you nudged your nose into the space between his pecs. He thought he'd been fairly vocal about his adoration for you. Every morning began and every evening ended with his proclaimed love for you.

No matter. He would reassure you every second of the day if it meant he could keep those deprecating thoughts out of your mind.

He said against the crown of your head, "There is no competition. You're the one I choose every single time."

You melted in his embrace.

"Would I have pierced my damn ear for anybody else?"

You giggled into his chest.

"I'd get a damn tramp stamp if you so much as hinted at it, baby."

"You really love me."

"Why do you sound so surprised? Have I not done a thorough job of showing my love for the past decade?" doubts began creeping into his mind and he-

A warm hand cupped his cheek, and you brushed your thumb over his lips. "There's nothing you've done to make me think otherwise; it's just me"

He kissed the pad of your thumb, feeling his heart swell with all the overwhelming love he carried for you. "And I wouldn't wish you to be anyone else."

He grabbed a handful of your ass, hauling you up to straddle him, "I would never begrudge you your peeping Tom hobbies, baby. You know I keep this body hard for you."

You huffed an ironic laugh, "Not because you're one of the only Carynthian's and right-hand male to the high lord?"

He shook his head. "Just. For. You."

Azriel took a moment to admire you. He didn't mind that you refused to get rid of his tatty-old t-shirt you used as a nightshirt. Not when you paired it with a pair of panties and nothing else.

"You're telling me you spent five-hundred plus years training and working out just for me? The mate you didn't even know you had? Who wasn't even born until centuries later?"

Cheeky female.

"Somewhere, deep down in my old, decrepit heart, a fire had been kindling. I had no clue where it came from nor how it continued to stoke. All I knew was that it meant something wonderful and glorious. I spent my days burying myself in my work; killing evil people and reporting to Rhysand. Every night spent with a random fae left me feeling lonelier and empty. Until I saw the most beautiful female in all of the world.

"She had this glow about her, this unwavering kindness, that drew me in. So I offered to purchase her ice cream and thus began my understanding of that long-forgotten fire. Every moment I spent with you, building the relationship I knew was about to be my everything, helped the flames burn brighter. I felt alive, something I never thought possible considering the blood on my hands.

"And now, that female turned out to be my mate and I knew I would do anything—anything—to keep her safe. To ensure that she was happy. So, to answer your absolutely ridiculous question, yes. I have built this body, and this soul, for you."

You tilted your head, silver lining your eyes, as you took him in, completely, and willingly, at your mercy. "You could have just said yes."

He chuckled, flipping you over so he laid on top of you, "Do you understand now why I do everything I have for you?"

A tear slid down your cheek and he kissed it away.

"Because you give me meaning, baby."

Your lips met in a slow kiss, conveying the words and emotions too difficult to speak aloud. Azriel breathed you in like one would fresh air. As if he needed you to survive. And you met him in the middle, giving him all he looked for.

After a couple of minutes, before Cassian would come to collect Azriel's sorry ass, you said against Azriel's lips, "Does this mean you'll help me with that fruit basket?"

"I'll find the biggest, juiciest fruit for that fucking basket."

divider credit: cafekitsune

#too many thoughts crammed in one post but idc #acotar fandom #azriel acotar #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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Part 4!! (No content warnings)

Fuck these men :)

You roll your neck, trying to loosen muscles tense from keeping your head locked in place. Hard work denying natural instinct to look at whoever is speaking, but the 141 doesn’t deserve any more of your attention than they’ve already stolen. Even if they didn’t know they had it at the time.

You’ll have to ask Nikto if he’ll massage out the knot forming there. He’s handy with anatomy like that.

“Listen, about what happened…” Gaz starts.

“Not relevant,” you snap, crouching behind a barrel.

“I’d say it’s pretty relevant,” he replies. “It’s not right, how we left things.”

You nearly snarl. ‘Not right’ is the understatement of the bloody century.

You twist on him. “You’re being unprofessional. Shut up and take this seriously, Garrick.”

You duck as a sniper shot pings dangerously close to your head. Spot Nikto across the way, hand-signaling to ask if you need back up. You reply with a ‘no’ and turn back to Gaz.

Thankfully, it seems he’s caught the message and keeps his mouth shut for the rest of the stupid drill. You resist a snappish comment when it’s over. Up until Gaz starts up again.

“I just think you deserve—”

“I don’t care what you think I deserve,” you interrupt. “I know what I deserve. And it’s a partner that can keep their feelings in their vest.”

Speaking of, Nikto appears at your side like a shadow in shifting light. There’s a disapproving tilt to his head, aimed at Gaz. You shake your head and tap your knuckles against his.

“Need a water break?” You ask, worried about how long he’s been under the helmet.

He shakes his head, then surprises you by bumping his forehead against yours — his version of a kiss. Even in private those are rare. You hum at him.

“Thank you, Nik.”

You have to run the next drill with Soap. Know from the start he’s going to be a stubborn prick about it. Can see it in the set of his jaw and the flicker in his eye.

“Didnae have to be a knob to Gaz,” he says.

You don’t respond, slipping away as the exercise begins. He calls after you and hurries to catch up, nearly blowing your cover.

“He feels bad enough for what happened, ye know.”

You level him a cool, blank stare. “You speak for him now?”

His eyes narrow. “If you won’t give him the chance to, aye.”

You knock his leg out from under him and fire at the “enemy” combatant, Nova. She sportingly goes down, but mutters that you should have let her take the shot. You should have.

“You compromise this drill again,” you tell a toppled Soap, “I’ll tell Laswell direct that you don’t belong on this mission.”

You spin on your heel and continue the exercise, ignoring any and all attempts by Soap to get you to speak again. At the very least, he picks up the slack, earns his callsign.

Nova finds you again when it’s over, arms around your neck and chest plastered to your back.

“Look’it you go, mamas,” she coos. “Shot me through the heart all over again.”

You laugh bending your legs to let her hop up for a piggy back ride. Yeah, you’re tired. But never too tired to carry your girl around. She giggles in your ear as you carry her off back to your captain for her next drill.

“With Price now,” he says, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Sure thing, boss,” you answer, doing a good impression of enthusiasm.

You know your place, settle into position just behind Price’s left side. No overtures about the past this time. Whatever iota of lingering respect you have for him grows as you complete the drill flawlessly. When it’s over, the two of you are at the furthest point from the designated “start”. And that’s when he decides to open his stupid mouth.

“It wasn’t personal, you know,” he says.

You smooth out your expression even though you don’t turn to him, already starting back.

“Okay.”

“It was the best call,” he explains, falling into step with you.

You tilt him a sideways look, don’t even bother with your full gaze. Spent far too much time looking up to him, by your estimate.

“Okay.”

“I look out for my soldiers.”

You turn forward again. “I wouldn’t know.”

Your captain happens to intercept, sweeping you up with one arm. You yelp, though can’t help grinning as you hook your fingers in one of his chest straps.

“Shouldn’t sneak up like that, sir,” you scold.

“That’s how I’ll know when I need to retire,” he replies with a crooked grin. “When I can’t sneak up on you anymore.”

You huff, snatching his sunglasses off his face to wear all the way back to the start point. Keegan meets you, looks directly at you as he salutes.

“Captain,” he says.

You laugh, give your CO his glasses back.

“Keeping fuckin’ around, Russ,” the captain rumbles, “I’ll take it out of your ass later.”

You gasp, scandalized, and laugh as the little skin visible through his smearing face paint turns pink.

“Off with you, girl,” your captain says. “We’re done after this, so keep it quick and clean.”

“Yessir,” you reply, jogging off to meet Ghost.

Fucking Ghost.

You don’t spare him a single look as you set up for the exercise. If nothing else, you have every expectation that he won’t say a single goddamn thing to you. No attempted apologies, no reprimands, no justifications. Just radio silence, like always.

What you don’t expect is for him to treat you like nothing’s changed. Like you’re still a fresh transfer that can’t watch their own six. You consider just putting your “gun” away and trailing after him until the exercise is over, but that would be just slightly too immature.

So you suck it up, grit your teeth, and do your job. Up until he gets in the fucking way. You’re about to get a sneaky shot on Keegan — a rare thing indeed — but Ghost moves. Goes out of his way to get the shot you already had and loses you both the element of surprise.

“Fucking oaf,” you snarl, scrambling behind a wall. “Is this your first fucking day or something?”

His eyes flash across the corridor. “What the fuck did you just say?”

You don’t reply, getting low and kicking your boot off, carefully sneaking it towards the corner like you’re trying to peek out. Keegan comes around, aiming too high and in the wrong direction, and Ghost shoots him.

Keegan “goes down” — goes out of his way to land on you, actually. You huff and shove at him.

“It’s not nap time,” you groan.

“Can’t hear you, I’m dead.”

You snort and shimmy out from under him. Not so different from most mornings, actually.

“If you two are done…” Ghost growls.

You suck your teeth and stalk off, giving Keegan one last pat to the back. The rest of the drill is barely civil, Ghost’s eyes more on you than on the training grounds.

When it’s finally, finally over, you sigh and pause, trying to work out that knot again.

“Haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Ghost sneers.

It’s meant to hurt. Meant to piss you off. Maybe remind you of the last things he said to you. You don’t look at him, bending to re-lace your boots. Thrilled to realize it’s like poking at an old scar. The skin is deadened, even though a mark remains.

“Fuck you’re so immature,” he growls.

You straighten and just start walking. Keegan finds you almost instantly.

“The hell was that about earlier?” He asks, frown audible.

“Ugh, he got in the way. I would have fuckin’ had you, otherwise.”

His eyes spark with outrage. “He fuckin’ what?” He snarls, turning like he’s about to say something to Ghost. Which… no. Just not worth it.

“Keegs,” you sigh, “c’mon, I told you this would happen. He’s not worth it.”

He scoffs, laces his fingers with yours. “‘Course he’s not. Don’t waste bullets on the dead, right?”

You snort and tug him along. The rest of your team will be waiting.

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Masterlist

#thoughts™️#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #angst #sad fic #former 141 reader #specgru reader #cod nikto #keegan p russ #nova cod #task force 141

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luckydraww · 1 month ago

Text

Ashes

Fracture - Chapter 1

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Pairing: ot8 x Reader Word Count: 5.6k Chapter Warnings: PTSD, Survivor's Guilt, Mentions of character death, Verbal Harassment, Isolation, Panic, Dissociation, Emotional Supression, Self-Doubt, Unreliable Narrator (trauma informed). Synopsis: You navigate the newly-found discomfort that comes with being an outsider, haunted by trauma and loss. Tensions start rise as fresh wounds are poked at.

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The next morning…

The bed underneath your hands is far too stiff. Devoid of blankets, with only a flimsy cover, it feels just as apathetic as the facility. You miss the feeling of a proper bed, or a proper room. One unbothered by the constant checks from medical staff and the incessant scribbling of the scribes that pop in and out without warning.

The overpowering smell of medicinal herbs and tinctures sting your nose, as you stare at the bag the healer left on the table in your room. There’s several packets in it, consisting of different blends they think might help your insomnia. You hate the taste. You hate how they cloud your mind. How they make memories of the fallen slip away through your fingers like sand.

A quick glance around the room reveals nothing new, it’s the same dull room you’ve been staying in for the past two weeks. At least it has some decor, unlike the isolation room you were originally placed in when you were found. A flower vase sits on the table side bed, holding a handful of little blue flowers with yellow centers. They’d be gorgeous, if they weren’t already half wilted. A petal detaches, driftung pitifully to the table.

A knock at the door. Your eyes snap up and away from the bag to it, only to see the doorknob already turning. You tense up, hands twitching as you instinctively reach for your dagger—only to remember it’s not on your person. You twist and reach for the small vase instead, only to freeze when you recognize the voice that greets you.

“Planning on using that against your Wing Leader of all people?”

You finally glance over to see your Wing Leader, Hongjoong. His expression is relatively neutral as he glances you over, though his eyes seem to pierce your soul. It’s like he’s logging every little reaction you make in his mind for future reference.

“Get up, grab your bag. I trust the healer already went over your discharges with you.” He says, hand still on the doorknob. It’s not a question.

He doesn’t wait for you to get up, already turning on his heel to leave the room. You quickly get up, reaching for the bag full of herbal mixes and slinging it across your back as you follow him out into the hallway. The mage lights in the room slowly dim, and you find yourself falling in step behind him as he heads towards— wherever it is you’re going.

“You’re being reassigned to Squad 3. The paperwork was finished yesterday but medical wanted you to stay one more night before discharge. The items that the recovery team were able to find have been sent to your new room already, though I’d double check to see if anything’s missing. Your room will be on the second floor with the other cadets in your new squad. You haven’t been cleared for much past basic training exercises, and Dàn is still grounded until she’s cleared—“

He cuts himself off when you let out a scoff. Dàn has to be cleared for flight maneuvers? Since when did they get to decide what you do or don’t do with your own dragon?

“Is there something wrong, cadet?”

“No sir.” Comes your quick reply, rolling off your tongue before you can make things worse.

Hongjoong stops and stares at you for a moment, before continuing down the hall and out the door towards the bridge that connects the healers quadrant to the rider quadrant across the canyon. His entire demeanor is distant. This is the wingleader in his element. Cold. Efficient.

There’s only a second of silence before he comments.

“The tension in your shoulders would suggest otherwise.” He comments, as you step into the hallway. Add on observant.

The hallway has small windows that line the walls, letting you look out and down to the valley below. The thud of Hongjoong’s footfalls ahead of you keep you moving forward, though your eyes are trained to the distance below. It’s sunny outside, and the valley below is relatively green and lush. Normally, you’d be able to appreciate the beauty, the serenity the valley and its view can bring. However, today is not the day.

Instead, a swirling of a chaotic mess of apprehension, anger, loneliness, and grief eat away at your stomach. You miss your squad mates, but you can’t get the visions of that day out of your head. A stray flower growing off the cliff side—yellow and vibrant— seems to taunt you.

“Can you think any louder, little one? I almost didn’t hear you.” Comes a snarky, slightly irritated comment from Dàn.

“You decide to comment on that after being basically MIA for the past three days?” You counter.

“I had matters to attend to.” Comes her cryptic reply.

The cool, pearlescent bond between you and Dàn had felt stifled the past few days. Where the bond typically felt like clear, silvery-blue water, it instead was a dried up creek. A trickle instead of a steady stream.

“Right.” You think at her bitterly, hoping to portray even a fraction of your hurt and anger.

“It was not a slight against you.” She growls in your head, her own irritation reverbing in your skull. “I am simply covering my bases. You were safe.”

You cut the connection off, not wanting to hear her lecture for today. She could likely crash through your barriers if she pleased, though it seems today she’s more lenient than normal. You can feel her hovering at the edges of your mind, before her presence ultimately fades to the normal hum.

“— and he’ll be the room to your left. I expect to see you on the mat later today. I’ll ensure you have a sparring opponent, since you were likely left off the roster today dud to your stay in the infirmary.” Hongjoong’s voice grabs your attention again. He looks at you expectantly, awaiting a reply. You must’ve missed something—not that you’re willing to admit.

You nod, trying to be as believable as you can be, as he leads you to the dorm rooms for second years and up.

“This one’s yours. If there’s any issues, bring it up with your squad leader. Also,“ he reaches into his pocket, handing you a patch. “Swap out your signet patch for now.”

You turn the patch over to look at it, noticing it’s the same compass design he wears on his own jacket. You furrow your brows, glancing at him silently in question.

“Your signet has been escalated to tier three. Classified.” He explains smoothly.

As you open your mouth to ask why, he holds a hand up and shakes his head.

“I also believe that keeping you off of training is poor judgment from the medical staff, seeing as you’ve already been off training for the past two weeks, so you are going to sparring today. I have a meeting to get to with the other leadership, though, but I trust you’ll find the training room just fine considering you’re a second year. Just make sure you swap out the patches. I expect to see you after lunch, on the mats.” He says, before whipping around and heading towards the exit. The thuds of his boots against the floors fades away slowly as he strides away, leaving you with more questions than answers.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

Your new room is bare. Functional, but lifeless.

It has the basic furniture, a desk, chair, bed, armoire, and bedside table. A small mage light sits on the bedside table. The walls are bare, save for the standard issue clock seen in every cadet’s room.

The bed is simple, but notably the blankets have changed. The color is different, navy instead of black. A small, inconsequential change, but it unsettles you nonetheless. They may have just run out of the black blankets when they were assigning you a new room, but you already miss your old blankets. On the bed are several standard issue sets of folded leisure wear.

You turn your attention to the armoire, opening its creaky wooden doors to peer inside. Several sets of your flight leathers sit inside, though you note that the squad patch on all your uniforms has been replaced with a different number. You feel dizziness take hold as you stare at the flame with a “III” embroidered inside, instead of the “I” you’ve known the past two years.

The floor spins. It’s somehow too loud, too quiet, too fast and slow at the same time as your breathing picks up.

Laughter. Smiles. Celebration. Tears. Pain. Anguish.

Memories of your fallen squad mates threaten to overwhelm you in the moment, and your spiral is only relieved when you realize you’re digging your nails into your palms.

“Little one.” Comes Dàn’s concerned voice in your head. Her constant presence seems to flood you momentarily, as her vigilance pokes at the edges of your mental walls.

You let out a shaky breath, glancing down at your hands. In. Out. In. Out. You take a moment to try and calm your breathing, before glancing down at the patch still in your hands. You still need to put it on your uniforms.

Except, you can’t get them out your head. You try your best to block it out, shoving it deep down, but it somehow comes back stronger. Your chest feels heavy as a creeping sensation of dread and fear climbs up, threatening to choke you, rob you of your voice.

“Little One.” Comes Dàn’s voice again, much sterner than earlier. “your breath stutters. Focus.”

You close your eyes, focusing on the shimmery silvery-blue thread that connects you and Dàn. It’s hard, and you find yourself fighting off the memories and echoes of your old squad’s final moments.

“You’re reacting to shadows, not steel. You are spiraling. Anchor yourself.”

“We were fine, Dàn. I—we were laughing. I looked straight at them. They looked at me like—like I wasn’t—“ You respond, but Dàn cuts you off again.

“They were compromised. That is not your fault.”

“But—“

“No. They were taken by something vile. You cannot mourn what they were in the end— cannot let it haunt you. Not when it wasn’t truly them.”

You feel a lump rise in your throat, as you clench your jaw in an attempt to ground yourself. You feel pitiful, losing out over ghosts of all things. A rider reduced to a coward in seconds, simply because of a patch.

“Lean on me. Endure. Remembering the dead keeps them here. Let them rest, little one. Do not let the darkness drag you down to join them. You can worry about the useless patch later.”

You exhale, shakily backing up to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. Your hands grip the signet patch in your hands harshly, but your breathing evens slightly. After a few moments, the worst of the feeling ebbs, leaving you tired but slightly more composed. Dàn goes back to being silent, though her presence is still felt.

“You should get some rest. Lunch hour is soon, and afterwards you’re expected on the mat for sparring. Don’t let your emotions cloud your abilities.”

You nod, putting the patch down on the pile of folded clothes on the edge of the bed, before moving it all onto the bedside table. You pull back the blanket, sliding in under it and yanking it up close to your chest. You lay your head down for a quick nap, unsure if sleep will bring peace—or ghosts of familiar faces.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

The waking world calls you back far sooner than you’d like.

For a fleeting moment, it’s blissful. Then reality comes crashing back down. The sheets are navy, not black. There’s no little carving on the headboard. Not yours.

You take the opportunity to shove your heart into a little box before it can overtake you. You are not weak, you remind yourself.

Blankets fall off the bed as it dips under your weight when you shift to sit up. You could care less, as you get up and stretch the ache in your neck and back. Must’ve slept awkwardly.

You reach for the armoire. Your hand pauses to hover over the handle, frozen in hesitation. Then, gripping it with more force than necessary, you open the door to snatch the first set of leathers within reach.

Your eyes catch the silver stars — second year. An open eye, encircled by a starburst. Your old signet patch, tier two. Vague enough to hide what you actually see. Above those two— A winged emblem with a two emblazoned on it, your name and rank nestled right under it. Cdt. L/N Y/N, Second Wing. Finally, a flame for your sections Except it’s wrong. You stare at it, as if glaring might burn away the “III” and bring back what’s supposed to be there. It doesn’t.

Throwing the leathers on your bed, you reach for the new signet patch sitting on the bedside table. The patch is a simple compass, though its meaning implies—to most cadets at least—that you’re likely far more dangerous than you seem. A frown graces your face as you start to pick at your old patch, ripping the stitching off to remove it. Your movements are a bit agitated, though from what you can’t tell. Once the final piece of string is pulled and discarded, you press the patch against the leather, trying not to think about its implications. Changed. Watched. Dangerous.

Once you deem it passable, you throw the old patch onto your table, and start to shrug on the uniform. You give yourself a cursory glance, ensuring it’s on properly, before reaching into the bag of things the recovery team had found. After a moment of rustling, your hand finally meets steel—your daggers. You pull them free, the cool weight grounding you. Familiar. Steady. You slide them into their sheaths.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

Finally feeling somewhat ready, you reach for the door and head out the room to the food hall. The walk there, the hallways are relatively devoid of people aside from the occasional cadet passing by. It gives you a moment to mentally prepare.

Reaching the door, your hand rests against the smooth wood as you steady yourself. Here goes nothing.

Opening the door, you’re met with the sounds of a busy hall. Cadets chattering, sharing meals, memories. The sound of something clatters to the floor, followed by a high pitched laugh. It’s overwhelming—but not nearly as much as the crisscrossing filaments you see between everyone. They shimmer with every color under the sun, creating an intricate spiderweb over the entire room.

Blinking your eyes rapidly, you will the colorful threads to dim. The faintest of outlines of them linger on the edges of your vision, but it’s much less overwhelming now.

You turn your attention to the side of the room, picking up one of the trays as you round the corner. The food line up seems lackluster today, you end up grabbing one of the dry turkey sandwiches. A cup of water finds itself onto your tray, along with a mush medley of vegetables.

Your feet steer you to the table you used to share with your squadmates on instinct. The lack of people sitting there wrenches something in you painfully. This is wrong. There’s no laughter or life here. The table is too clean and untouched. There’s no messy crumbs, or spilled water. No papers flung haphazardly to the side by your squad leader.

And yet? You still sit. Almost in denial, like you expect one of them to pop up and say it was all a joke. A hand on your shoulder, a tray dropping loudly next to you. Anything. Where are they? Why aren’t they here yet?

A lump forms in your throat as you stare down at your food. You’re suddenly not hungry, if you ever were. The sandwich, normally unappetizing, looks downright sickening. Your eyes sting, and you can’t stop your vision from blurring as unshed tears gather. Biting your tongue, you reach to at least take a sip of the water. The cup is paper and flimsy, while the contents are borderline metallic. The taste has you setting the cup down again, unwilling to take another sip. Hands grip it tightly, and you feel it crush in your hand, water overflowing. It drips down your hands and fingers, onto the table, but all you can think of is the memory it evokes. Blood. Warm, and horribly sticky. Bile rises in your throat, but you push it back down. Just an hour. You didn’t need to eat anyways.

That’s what you tell yourself, but every minute feels like an eternity. You feel like you’re stuck in a bubble, wanting to scream. Even if you did—no one would hear. Or care.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

Lunch was more performative than anything. You managed a bite of your sandwich, but it makes you feel queasy. The table drank more of your water than you did, the liquid having seeped into the wood and floor underneath. Most of your tray ended up in the trash.

Gathering your things, which really isn’t much, you get up to head to the training room. As you exit the lunch hall, a handful of cadets stand hovering just outside. Mostly first years in squad 2, their faces and names evade you. A glance at them reveals that they’re staring straight back at you. One of them leans in to another, whispering something in their ear, causing a gasp to escape as the first year glances back at you. Ignorong them, you hurry past them without a second glance.

Entering the training room, you notice most of the second years in squad two and three are already there. Your eyes dart over the groups, letting the threads flood back into your vision for a moment. The vividness of your new squad’s threads hit you hard. Vibrant reds and yellows, blues and greens. It’s almost intimidating, how closely knit they are. Their threads weave together in a complex net, overlapping and shifting constantly. Squad two’s on the other side of the room look dull in comparison.

You stand awkwardly by the entrance, unsure if you should approach—until a a head looks up and away from the group at you. Warm brown eyes meet yours, and a smile breaks out across his face. Yunho. Your new Squad Leader.

“Over here!” He calls, beckoning you over. “We’re about to start.”

You square your shoulders and walk over before the anxiety can say otherwise. The rest of the group parts to let your through, though most of them already look less than pleased by your arrival.

One of them eyes you up and down—as if searching for something. A taller cadet, next to him smiles at you, but the smile is more taunting than welcoming.

Yunho pats a hand on your shoulder, and attempts to pull you closer to look at the list in his hands. You stiffen, sidestepping away to create space again. The man seems utterly unbothered by the cold shoulder, and just angles the paper for you to see.

“Today you’ll be paired up with Jongho—“ he starts, but a scoff cuts him off.

“No. I want to go against her. Me and Jongho can switch.”

Yunho looks up from the paper, smile faltering for a second. You can practically see his mind rapidly sorting through thoughts as he shakes his head at the cadet.

“No. I was asked to pair her against Jongho, Woo.”

The cadet—who’s name clicks as Wooyoung—crosses his arms.

“By who? Because last I checked, you’re the one that makes the spar matchups. Professor could give less of a shit about second years pairing.”

Yunho shakes his head again.

“No. That’s final. If we have time after matches, maybe, but-“

“Good,” Wooyoung interjects, his eyes finding yours, “Jongho, you better kick her ass.”

The cadet he looks at as he says that—Jongho— shrugs. He looks utterly unbothered. Either he doesn’t care what Wooyoung thinks, or had that much faith in his abilities.

Yunho turns to you again, and claps his hands together.

“So— Y/N, correct? This is Squad Three. I’m the Squad Leader, so if you have any questions or concerns feel free to bring them up to me!” He starts, beaming.

As he introduces the squad, you can’t help but feel a bit removed. He refers to each member so warmly, the threads between them practically hum with unspoken devotion. When it comes to you, however, there’s nothing. No bond. No thread. The way he refers to the squad as separate from you rubs you the wrong way. Like his personality is directly at odds with how he truly feels. The Squad. No welcome. No acknowledgement that he’s your squad leader now.

“Anyways, this is Jongho, he’ll be your sparring partner for today.”

You glance at the cadet Yunho gestures to again. His expression is neutral, but he regards you with mild curiosity. His eyes dart down to your patches, where his eyes linger. Likely the flame patch marking your new squad number. That is, until you realize he’s staring at the signet patch. The compass. Unknown. Dangerous. His face for the briefest of moments looks wary, before it’s back to unreadable.

“If you need me, I’ll be sparring with San. Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung glances back to his squad leader.

“You’ll be sparring with Mingi. No funnny business like last time. Understood?” Yunho asks.

Wooyoung rolls his eyes, but mumbles out the faintest “yes sir”.

“Good. Yeosang, you’ll be on standby babysitting. We’ll rotate out whoever finishes their spars first.”

The quiet one in the back—who’s been staring at you this entire time— nods. You assume that’s Yeosang, based on his and Yunho’s reaction. As your gaze shifts back to Yunho, you do a double take. A single stripe falls just below Yeosang’s name plate.

Executive officer.

You didn’t realize this squad had one.

When your eyes wander back up to his face, he has the faintest smirk on his face, but it quickly dissipates.

“Right. We all know the rules. Pick a mat, and get started.“

The squad disperses, picking mats and laughing while you’re left standing awkwardly next to Jongho. He waits for everyone else to pick mats, before zeroing in on a open one. He nods his head towards it silently, indicating where to go.

Getting into position comes easily. You’ve drilled these hundreds of times before. The room sounds die down as you all wait for the start call. Trying to gauge the man before you, you’re only met with the same unreadable expression.

“Start!” Yeosang calls out.

The sound of the other scuffles starting echoes through the room. Squeaks of shoes against the floor, sounds of cadets dodging and weaving. Yet, Jongho doesn’t move immediately. He meets your eyes for a moment, dark brown, unreadable. Then it sharpens into something more. Focus. There’s no arrogance. No taunts, no feints. Just calm, unshakeable readiness. Healthy caution.

It rattles you more than if he had underestimated you.

You take the first move, finally breaking the eye contact. Where you’re good, he’s great. His moves are clean. Efficient. He’s infuriatingly composed, and moves as if he can almost see your thought process. He parries every move, counters every strike. There’s no hesitation, just calculation and unwavering determination.

It only takes one wrong move—one wrong misstep. Your legs are swept out from underneath you, and you’re face-first on the mat below. His hand is square in the middle of your back, the rest of him pinning your lower half down.

You tap the mat, indicating you yield, cheeks burning with humiliation. First day with the squad, and you’re barely holding your own.

”Good form.” He offers hesitantly, before he’s leaning back.

You nod, your voice stuck in your throat. You’ve never been beat that fast. You don’t think you’ve seen any other cadet tap out at that speed for that matter. You don’t offer a thanks, your pride too wounded already. Sitting up, and taking a breath, you rub where you got kicked on the leg.

“Guess surviving doesn’t always mean you know how to fight.” A voice rings out across the room, drawing everyone’s attention.

Wooyoung.

He’s standing off to the side of his mat, arms crossed. His hair is messy, the tie holding it back seemingly having snapped during his own spar with Mingi. He tilts his head, as a smile spread across his face, but there’s something darker to it. Something sharp. Suspicious.

“Cat got your tongue? Or are you always this quiet? Is that why you lost your squad? Because you don’t know how to make proper call outs on the field?” He goads, smile widening.

He makes his way over to your mat before Yeosang can stop him. He gets into fighting stance, eyeing you. There’s a dangerous sparkle in his eye.

“Or maybe you were too much of a coward to step in and save them?” He adds on. His smile is twisted as he sees you get into your own stance across from him.

Your pulse quickens, but not in fear. It’s anger. You’ll be damned if you let some pompous asshole of a cadet say you didn’t try. You’ll cry about it later. Right now? You need to get your frustration out.

The match starts before Yeosang can step in and stop you two. It’s less a spar and more an outlet for both of you.

Wooyoung moves like he’s intentionally trying to trip you up. Feints designed to frustrate more than gain an edge. Punches that are a bit too hard for a friendly spar. He’s grappling you, trying to throw you off balance. Every hit he lands that makes you flinch just makes him smile more, like he’s proving a point.

“You move pretty well for a someone who ran from the scene.” He quips during a close exchange.

Anger and sadness flood your being, and you find yourself pulling punches less and less. Your hits are more by emotion than proper technique.

“Careful Y/N, losing your cool?” He smirks, ducking under one of your swings to make a lunge at your lower half.

You manage to side step for a moment, reel yourself in, and defend. He knocks you off balance momentarily, but you plant your foot when it lands. Managing to kick him off and away, you re-center yourself. With a few well timed hits, you back him up towards the edge of the mat.

A grapple, a twist to his arm. He’s slightly off balance and on the defensive—he’s not smiling now.

Then, you feel it.

Heat.

You glance down to see his hand is glowing red. In the moment you falter, he beaks free, grabbing for you with the hand.

“Cheap.” You spit out, dodging to the side. His momentum sends him sailing forward to the other end of the map.

“Maybe,” he says, grinning again. “Or maybe I don’t buy the whole survivor act.“

He’s not even trying to conceal his signet use anymore, when he lunges at you again. Heat kicks up your side as a hand connects to your armor. A char mark is left, and the smell of burnt leather hits your nostrils.

The world shifts.

Mirror images of yourself and Wooyoung appear everywhere. The floor tilts yet stays still. The walls and mat warp constantly. It’s sickening—like floating and falling all at once.

Wooyoung stumbles, caught off guard by the sudden change.

Yeosang stands amid the mess, completely unbothered by the constant warping and shifting.

“That’s enough.” growls a voice, low and firm.

A moment later, the world turns back to normal. For a beat, no one moves.

“You know well what you did wrong, Wooyoung. Me and you are talking after this.” Yeosang says firmly, his eyes icily staring down the cadet.

Wooyoung scoffs and turns away. He mutters something under his breath, before stalking back to the mat where he originally was with Mingi.

You don’t move or say anything—just glance down silently at your armor. A very clear hand-shaped scorch mark is apparent, a charred divot where his hand connected to you for a moment. It’s still warm.

Yeosang watches you a second longer than necessary, before turning away.

══════♤══════♧══════♡══════♢══════

The rest of the training is much less intense, though you do still catch Wooyoung occasionally glare at you across the room.

Following the match against him, you notice you’re slower. Sloppier even. Every mistake you make, you fixate on.

If you were faster, could you have stopped your squad from destroying itself? If you were stronger, could you have fought off the first one to be infected?

“Their deaths were not caused by you.” A voice in your head cuts in.

You ignore Dàn, feeling too lost in your head to listen to reason. Your next strike to Yunho—that’s right. You’re in your last soar of the day—misses again.

Yunho furrows his eyebrows, confused at how you miss that easy of an opening.

Your next move is a little too slow, and he parries it effortlessly.

He stops moving all together, sighing.

“I think that’s enough for today. You’re still recovering.” He says, backing off.

You lower your hands in confusion.

“You’re not completely off medical restrictions yet. You’ve had enough. I’m calling it.” He repeats.

You blink for a moment, mind blank, before straightening yourself up. Nodding stiffly, you look around the room. Everyone’s stopped to stare at you, like you’re some kind of show.

Weakness gets you singled out—and you’ve just been dismissed.

Yunho hums, before pointing at a bench near the exit.

“You can stay over there until the block is over. Maybe observing will help.” He says.

There’s no outright malice in his words, but they still sting. Observe. As in—watch and learn because you’re doing horribly. Watch and learn how to actually fight. Watch and learn how to actually protect yourself, so you can protect us.

You can’t tell if those thoughts are your own being projected—or if they’re plausibly what’s going on in his head. Either way, you defeatedly sit yourself down.

The bench is worn smooth, and creaks under your weight. You watch half-heartedly as the others spar. Without you in the mix, everyone gets an even turn. Six squad mates. Three duos. You’re the outlier.

They all work so well together. Each member seems to understand the other in a way you could never hope to comprehend. And then there’s you. A piece in a machine that never belonged. You’ve already gotten one of them in trouble with his executive officer—maybe you are the problem. Who’s to say you didn’t do something to piss Wooyoung off?

Creak.

Someone else sits next to you.

The scent hits you first. Green tea, sandalwood, and soemthing clean. Almost floral. A quiet kind of calm. You don’t glance over.

Not until the voice speaks up, at least

“Is there a reason you’re not sparring with the others, cadet?”

The voice is smooth. Warm, measured. One that doesn’t need to be raised to be heard.

Seonghwa.

You tense up. Not out of fear, or wariness—but because it’s him. His presence right now isn’t loud, or brash, or energetic. It’s off putting because it’s the opposite. Calm. Composed. It’s the presence of someone who’s reading you better than you could ever read him.

“I was dismissed. Squad Leader cited medical reasons.” You reply.

He glances at the mats, humming softly.

You chance a glance at him finally. He’s alert, but relaxed. The mentality of someone always ready to step in, but not high-strung.

“I saw. However—you’re not injured. So, I’m asking again. Why aren’t you sparring with the others, cadet?”

“I think… that I shouldn’t be over there. I make things worse.” You say softly.

“Worse? You think your presence makes things worse?”

You don’t respond—but you don’t need to. Your silence is far more telling than any words could be.

Seongwha sits still, watching as San throws Wooyoung to the floor with a loud whoop.

“The squad has been through everything together. Been together since parapet—“ he starts

Dread hits you in your stomach. You know. You had that too.

“What you see between them—“ he gestures broadly to the area they’re all in, “wasn’t built overnight. Failure, mistakes, loss—it’s what bound them together. You won’t match that overnight, or anytime soon.”

There’s no softness to his voice, but there’s no malice either. Just unwavering conviction.

“I’m not here to coddle you,” he continues, “but I also won’t stand by and watch you be useless to the squad because you’re feeling blue. You’re a rider, not infantry. If you’re unfit to spar? Say so. If you are, act like it."

His words are unapologetic. Direct. They sting, but they’re necessary.

You meet his eyes finally. For a brief second, you see it: Caution. Not unkindness—but a leaders wariness, tempered by experience. He doesn’t explicitly trust you, especially not with the squad he originates from—but he’s willing to give you the chance. The briefest look of relief crosses his face, though you think you may be searching for something that isn't actually there.

“I’ll be back on the mats tomorrow. Ready.” You say.

He nods his head, accepting it, before standing.

“Good. Tomorrow? Act like someone who deserves a place here.”

He walks off to speak to your squad leader without another word. Like he had only stopped to tie his shoe, or fit in a quick stretch.

You’re alone again—but you don’t feel as invisible. Even if the burdens still weigh on your shoulders.

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Taglist: @euphoricem

#ateez fanfic #ateez series #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez x reader series #ateez fic #hongjoong x reader #seonghwa x reader #yunho x reader #yeosang x reader #san x reader #mingi x reader #wooyoung x reader #jongho x reader #fracture luckydraww #luckydraww #fic: fracture #fracture #fourth wing au

67 notes · View notes

milaisreading · 1 year ago

Note

CD!YN does that accidental rizz all the time to the boys. They trip and she catches them. Stray football flying towards them? She blocks it. They twist their ankle? She carries them princess style to the infirmary.

🌱🩷: Here it goes! Hope you like the fic and thanks for the request!

Warning: Reader uses she/her, but since she is crossdressing the boys use he/him. Requests are open

⚽️Blue lock belongs to Muneyuki Kaneshiro and Yusuke Nomura⚽️

"Isagi. Rin. Stop arguing, you two. We are not going anywhere with this and we still have to practice." (Y/n) called out as her, Aryu, and Tokimitsu watched the two bicker about God knows what now.

"He started it! If he stopped being in my way I wouldn't be arguing!" Rin said as Isagi pouted.

"In your way?! We are practicing together here!"

'They act like kids.' (Y/n) looked at them in disbelief as they continued arguing like nothing happened.

'Ok. That's it. This is worse than when I had to teach Reo and Nagi.' She thought as she walked to one of the abandoned balls and kicked them in their direction.

"Watch out!" Tokimitsu yelled as Aryu looked at (Y/n) in surprise. Luckily, Isagi and Rin noticed the football and moved away, so the ball just flew between them and into the wall.

"Huh..." Isagi gulped as he looked back at (Y/n) while Rin silently backed away as she gave them a tight smile.

"You two... What did I say about arguing for no reason?" She asked cheerfully, walking closer to them.

"To... to not do it." Isagi said back.

"And what did you two do?"

"Argue for no reason." Now it was Rin's turn.

"Exactly. 20 laps around the training grounds. Now."

"What?! Since when do you have a say in this?" Rin asked as he shook a little in fear.

"So 30, then?"

"I-"

"40?" She interrupted Isagi, causing the two to quickly shake their heads.

"We will run! We will run!" They said as (Y/n) nodded her head, unaware of Tokimitsu's awestruck look and Aryu's swooning.

'Amazing! He is so brave for that!!' Tokimitsu thought while blushing.

'What grace and dashing confidence! I like that!' Aryu thought in return as (Y/n) looked back at the two.

'Do they have a fever?' She wondered in worry when she noticed their red faces.

⚽️

Now, (Y/n) wasn't familiar with friendships and their bonds. Her whole life she mostly spent her time playing football, studying, or going to some random gatherings with her family. The most she got of the experience of friendships was from Reo and Nagi back in Hakuho, and even that wasn't much. But, if there was one thing she knew, it is that you shouldn't ignore someone in distress. Especially when it was someone she could consider her friend. That's how she found herself walking up to Niko when she noticed him walking back and forth one night after it was already past everyone's bedtime.

"Are you ok, Niko? Why are you up so late?" She asked in worry as the youngest contestant looked at her in surprise.

"Oh... I am fine. I just couldn't sleep." The boy admitted, causing (Y/n) to rise an eyebrow.

"And why is that? Today's exercises would have made anyone fall asleep." (Y/n) argued back as the boy quietly looked down.

"You know, you can tell me if something bothers you. I don't mind listening." She offered, her tone softening a little as she leaned her back against the wall, something Niko copied soon after.

"Well... I just don't know if I want to be here anymore." Niko admitted, surprising the girl.

"And why is that? You are holding up very well, and your skills are great, too."

"It's just, I remembered something. It's all." The boy said, not ready to confess that the words of his high school bullies were haunting him. (Y/n) kept on looking at the boy, wondering what to do or say.

'I always felt at peace when my nanny or mom would pet my head. Maybe that works here as well?' She thought, slowly moving her hand on top of Niko's hair.

'It's so soft!' She thought, mot noticing the boy tense up or his face turn red.

"Whatever is bothering you is normal. We all have our doubts here, but don't let them control your life." She said softly.

"A-alright." Niko stuttered out. Noticing his nervousness, (Y/n) panicked a little and tried to move her hand a way.

"Sorry about that! It's something my mom used to do-"

"It's ok! I like it!" Niko quickly said and grabbed her hand, moving it back on his hair.

⚽️

"Chigiri? Are you doing alright? You seem quite out of breath." (Y/n) asked in worry as the redhead looked back at her, quickly nodding his head.

"I am fine! Don't worry! I can still stand! My leg is alright!"

"I never asked about your leg." (Y/n)'s words caused Chigiri to flinch and he looked down on the ground as (Y/n) walked closer to him.

"Your ankle hurts, I am guessing." She said, not getting an answer in return, which pretty much confirmed her suspicions.

"Look, I am fine. I can handle this, let's just continue on with our practice." Chigiri argued, a little bit embarrassed by the whole thing. (Y/n), being more stubborn here than he was just sighed and walked up to Chigiri, quickly picking him up.

"Huh?!" The redhead let out surprised, looking back at (Y/n) with a red face.

"What... What are you doing?!"

"Taking you to the infirmary, and then you will rest. You already did enough for the day." (Y/n) answered simply as the boy started protesting.

"But we need to practice-"

"Your well being comes first, Chigiri. Please don't argue with me over this." (Y/n) warned as she continued to carry Chigiri down the hallway. The boy could feel his heartbeat quickening as he looked back at (Y/n), not saying anything for a minute or two.

"Why do you care so much?" (Y/n) looked back at Chigiri in confusion.

"I just do. I don't like seeing you hurt... or anyone else on that matter." (Y/n) stated.

'He cares for me that much?!' Chigiri thought happily as his face got redder.

'Another fever?!' (Y/n() thought in worry as she noticed that.

⚽️

"Food! Finally! Its been so long since I ate!" (Y/n) exclaimed as Karasu, Otoya, and Yukimiya looked at her in amusement.

"You say that like you are getting starved here or something." Karasu teased, poking (Y/n)'s cheek. Yukimiya chuckled and put and arm around the excited girl's shoulder.

"Leave him alone. It's kinda cute when you get like this, you know." Yukimiya said while winking earning an eyeroll from Otoya and Karasu.

"Huh? Like what? Also, what do you all think we will get for desserts today? It is a Saturday, after all." She wondered, oblivious to Yukimiya's words, which caused Otoya to laugh a little.

"Your flirting skills are so mid, Yukki."

"Whatever." Yukimiya sent Otoya a side-glare, but still kept his arm around (Y/n)'s shoulders.

"Let's just get him some food." Karasu argued, pinching (Y/n)'s cheek as she protested at that behavior.

Once they were in the dining hall, the group walked to an empty table with their meals in hand.

'Delicious!' (Y/n) thought while munching on her food, too lost in her thoughts to notice the trio looking at her while blushing.

'So cute!' Yukimiya sighed.

'I bet it would be even better to pinch his cheeks now...' Karasu blushed while fighting back the urge to grab the other player's cheeks.

'So adorable! I can die happily knowing I witnessed this!' Otoya thought as he put some of his food in front of (Y/n).

"Take some of my food as well." Otoya said, surprising the girl.

"But, it's yours-"

"No! Take mine! The grilled chicken us way better!" Yukimiya argued, pushing Otoya's food away.

"No! Here! These veggies are way better." Karasu argued as the trio glared at each other.

"Ahh... I am fine with the food I have." But her words were ignored.

⚽️

It was one of the rare few days when the Blue Lock team could go home and relax for a bit. And on this day in particular (Y/n) had agreed to meet up with Isagi to watch a movie that recently came out.

"Isagi!! There you are! Sorry, I had to get ready and I didn't notice how late I was." The blue-eyed boy looked away from his phone and towards (Y/n), freezing up for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

"I-it's alright. I arrived here a few minutes ago as well..." The boy said back as his face slowly turned red the more he looked at (Y/n).

"Oh, thank God. Sorry, I had to figure out how this eyeliner worked, it's my first time putting it on." The girl explained taking in a few breathes and looked back at Isagi. The girl and boy kept looking at each other in silence for a few minutes, which caused her to grow self-conscious.

"I... It looks ridiculous, doesn't it?" She gulped nervously as she looked down at her dress. Isagi quickly shook his head quickly and started speaking with a red face.

"You look great! You look great! The dress suits you. And the make-up as well!" (Y/n)'s face turned dark red for a moment and she slowly nodded her head.

"O-oh... You think?"

"Yep! Beautiful." Isagi said quickly.

"Th-thanks. I am glad. You look nice as well." She said back as they stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"S-so... should we go?"

"Yeah! Absolutely, we should go and get our snacks as well."

'So pretty!' Isagi thought as they walked towards the cinema, glancing at the girl a few times.

⚽️

"Bachira, no."

"Bachira, yes."

'What am I even looking at?' (Y/n) thought as she looked between Reo and Bachira, who were arguing over something stupid, probably.

"What are they arguing about now?" She asked Nagi, who shrugged his shoulders and leaned against her shoulder.

"Bachira had an idea for a new trick him and Reo could perform during the U-20 match and, well, Reo isn't all too happy with the idea." Nagi explained, resting his head on her shoulders.

'He smells really nice.' Nagi thought with a small blush, which the girl ignored.

"Arguing won't get us anywhere now." She rolled her eyes and walked over to the duo, to which Nagi pouted and followed right after.

"You two, we need to practice. You can argue after we are done with the match." (Y/n) said, catching the attention of the two.

"But, my plan is fool-proof! Tell Reo to listen to me!" Bachira pouted as Reo chimed in.

"It's stupid as hell! I am not taking part in it!"

"Coward."

"What did you just call me?!"

(Y/n) looked between the two while Nagi silently leaned against her again.

'What to do... what to do... Maybe bribing will work?!' (Y/n) thought as she cleared her throat, catching the arguing duo's attention.

"Ah! I will give you two my lunch if you stop arguing!" This statement caused Reo and Bachira to stop arguing and blinked at her for a while.

"You will give us..."

"...your food?" Bachira and Reo said at the same time, seemingly in a daze at first, but quickly got out of it as (Y/n) nodded her head.

"Ok!"

"Sounds like a plan!"

The two cheered as Nagi tugged on the hem of her shirt.

"I want food from you as well."

"Uh? Ok." (Y/n) said in confusion, unaware of the satisfied smiles on Bachira and Reo.

⚽️

"I know this isn't much fun, but I hope you like it here." Gagamaru said quietly as (Y/n) looked away from her grilled fish and at him.

"What do you mean?" She asked as she took a bite from her food.

"Well, you probably didn't want to spend your weekend camping when you agreed for a hang out."

"Huh? I don't care about that. Besides, it's nice to get out of the city once in a while."

"Hmmm...." Gagamaru nodded his head slowly, unsure if he should believe her or not. The noticed it and silently ate her fish, trying to think of a way to cheer him up. The quietness stayed like that for a few minutes until she patted his back and spoke up.

"You are fun to hang out with, Gagamaru. And I am enjoying my time in the forest with you. Don't think too much about that." The boy tensed up and looked back at her.

"Really?"

"Really. Don't cut yourself short." She smiled over at Gagamaru, who slowly nodded his head as his face heated up.

"Th-thanks!" Gagamaru nodded his head as he quickly ate his food again.

'Is he sick now as well?!' She thought in worry.

⚽️

"Can I have some of that?" Kunigami wondered, pointing at (Y/n)'s stake. The girl stopped eating and looked at the orange-haired boy, who was giving her puppy eyes.

"Oh, sure-"

"Get your own food, hero. That's (Y/n)'s." Barou interrupted before she could finish, which caused Kunigami to roll his eyes at him.

"I just wanted one bite-"

"I don't care it's kot your food." Barou said again as (Y/n) tried to interrupt their arguing.

"It's ok. I don't mind-"

"You should really learn to mind your business, Barou."

"Right back at you. Why are you even sitting with us here?"

The girl felt a headache come up and she cut up two smaller slices of her stake. One she fed to Barou and the other to Kunigami.

"There. You can leave the argument behind now." She said, going back to eating as the two stared at her with red faces.

'He really fed me his food! Take that, Chigiri!' Kunigami thought as Barou stared at her in a daze.

⚽️

"Kaiser, I swear to God, if you don't shut up I will kick a football in your face."

"What was that, princess? Was that you saying you are finally devoting your skills to me?" Kaiser smirked at the agitated girl. The duo continued arguing as Kurona and Hiori stared at them with confused and amused looks.

"I am happy (Y/n) is feeling better today. That fever yesterday scared me a lot." Hiori said as Kurona nodded along.

"I am, too. If only Kaiser would stop provoking him now." The rehead said as Hiori silently agreed. They were both pretty much agitated by Kaiser stealing her attention from them.

'Arrogant asshole.'

'Loud mouth.' Hiori and Kurona thought, completely forgetting that some players were practicing behind them. Sadly, they only remembered after they heard Gesner yell at them to.move away. Hiori and Kurona turned around, only to notice a football flying fast their way. Closing their eyes, the boys stayed still, waiting for the football to hit them, only for it to never come.

"Huh?" Hiori muttered, slowly opening his eyes.

"What happened?" Kurona wondered as he opened his eyes as well, only for the both of them to see (Y/n) panting and holding the football in her hands.

"Are you both alright?" She asked, looking at the duo in worry, the two slowly realizing what had happened.

"I am fine." Hiori swooned and nodded his head.

'He really ran all the way so I won't get hurt~'

"I am fine as well. Thank you." Kurona said as his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

'He is the best! I love him.'

"Nothing to thank me for." (Y/n) quickly answered and put away the football.

⚽️

"Here." (Y/n) said as she pushed a piece of cake in Rin's direction. The sulking boy stopped whatever he was thinking and looked at the piece of cake and then at (Y/n), who was sending him a smile.

"What is this for?" Rin asked with raised eyebrow as the girl shrugged her shoulders.

"It's for you. You looked a little troubled and a little bit of cake always helps people out. Don't you think so?" She said playfully. Rin was dumbfounded as he stared at her and slowly nodded his head, still trying to understand what she just did for him.

"Great! Enjoy the cake and don't go too late to bed." (Y/n) said as she waved at Rin while leaving the dining hall.

"Of...of course." Rin said as he waved back numbly, his own face turning redder and redder.

'He gave me some cake... (Y/n) gave ME some cake...' He kept on thinking while slowly eating the piece.

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vigilante-3073 · 4 months ago

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Gunpowder & Grindstone

Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Joel never thought that he would find love in the QZ, especially not with someone worse off than he was.

TW: PTSD, mentions of anxiety/hypervigilance/nightmares, weapons, firearms.

Y/N L/N lived in the apartment next door to his in the QZ. Joel knew almost nothing about her in the beginning, besides the fact that she was up at all hours of the night and started her day at the crack of dawn.

Joel heard her moving around in her apartment through the paper thin walls at all hours of the night. He could tell that she had trouble sleeping, but most people did at this point. Tess had reached out to her for help on a couple of runs in the past, she was a good shot and it helped to have her tag along.

Y/N had been an army ranger before the world fell apart and had been stationed at Fort Benning in Georgia. Y/N had seen far too much death in the first few weeks of the virus and it stayed with her.

Soldiers had been ordered to put down innocent civilians without even attempting to help them. Quarantine zones filled up and the government decided that people were better off dead than turned.

Men, women and children were shot to death while under the assumption that they were being taken to a safe place. Y/N had abandoned her post after four weeks and found her way into the quarantine zone in Boston.

Y/N was remarkably screwed up.

She talked to almost no one besides Tess, she spent hours exercising in her apartment alone and kept her living area insanely clean. She clung to her routine like a life raft, she did the exact same thing every day and rarely branched out. Anyone could easily see that there was an obvious case of post-traumatic stress disorder going on, but it wasn't possible to recieve treatment nowadays.

Y/N just continued on her downward spiral, isolating herself more every day. Tess liked Y/N and attempted to reach out to her on multiple occasions, but her responses were limited. Y/N helped Tess on whatever jobs she needed assistance with, but that was as far as she let things go.

Joel only really saw her when Tess managed to ply her from her apartment with the promise of ration cards. Joel had never seen Y/N relax, muscles constantly tense with pin straight posture as she held onto her gun. She couldn't sit still and always remained on guard, spending every minute watching out for their little group.

Y/N was in a constant state of hypervigilance and she got incredibly antsy when they stayed in one place for too long while outside the QZ.

Joel was partially deaf in his right ear and he appreciated having someone to look out for him. He did find himself feeling guilty because she wouldn't allow him or Tess to reciprocate the gesture.

Y/N didn't trust anyone and he couldn't blame her for it. She was paranoid and tense, focused on whatever perceived threat could possibly wipe them all out. Joel knew that it was exhausting and stressful being stuck on high alert all the time. Y/N would run herself into the ground if they let her, but she wouldn't accept help.

On long scavenging missions, Y/N couldn't force herself to stay awake the entire time and would eventually pass out from exhaustion. Joel and Tess left her be, letting her get whatever amount of sleep she would allow herself.

The smallest noise would rouse her and the pair had gotten really good at keeping the noise to a minimum when she rested. Eventually the nightmares would find her, she'd mumble softly in her sleep before her body would start to move. Y/N couldn't even find peace in the solace of her dreams, it was just pain and death.

She'd shoot awake with a ragged gasp, skin flushed and eyes wide as she looked around herself. Joel approached her as if she was a wild animal, slow and deliberate in his approach as he told her that she was safe. The statement seemed to calm her for a second before the rigidity returned to her body.

Y/N slowly began to trust Joel as they worked together, she knew that he had her back and eventually adjusted to having him around. Joel never pushed her, he left her be and allowed her to come to him if she needed it.

He never thought she would until someone knocked on his door at four o'clock in the morning. Joel opened the door and her presence shocked him, she looked frazzled and tense as she shifted uncomfortably on her feet.

He could tell that she was still reeling from another nightmare, droplets of sweat glistening on her skin and tears in her eyes.

"Can I come in, Joel?" She asked shakily.

He stepped out of the way instantly, watching her as she made her way into his apartment. She looked around, lingering awkwardly in the middle of the room with her arms wrapped around herself.

"Do you want a drink?" He asked, she nodded.

Joel moved over to the kitchen area and pulled out two chipped glasses, filling them with the strongest liquor he had.

He held one of the glasses out to Y/N, she reached out a shaking hand and took it from his grasp.

"Thanks," She mumbled, he nodded.

Joel watched her as she gulped down the alcohol quickly and set the cup back on the countertop a tad too hard to be intentional.

"I'm sorry," She said quickly.

"It's okay," Joel replied, picking up the bottle and refilling her cup, "Wanna talk about it or just drink?" He asked.

"Drink," She said, he nodded.

Y/N picked up the glass again, taking slow sips of the liquor as she began to calm down. Joel sipped on his own drink, watching her closely as her shoulders began to relax slightly.

They stood together in his apartment for a few hours, drinking in silence until Y/N was sufficiently drunk.

"I'm tired, Joel," She admitted softly, staring at the floor between them.

"You should try and get some sleep then," Joel said, not moving from his spot.

Y/N shook her head, "Not that kind of tired, Joel... I just want the pain to stop," Y/N said.

Joel nodded, "I get that," He replied.

Y/N looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, she was exhausted and drunk but it was the most honest she had ever allowed herself to be.

"I did some awful things and it fucked me up so badly that I can't even sleep," Y/N said.

"Everyone has done awful things, Y/N. Nobody has clean hands anymore," Joel stated.

Y/N stared at him for a moment before she set down her cup and took a few steps towards him. She stopped in front of him, "What are you doing?" He asked, looking down at her.

"I just want to feel something good, Joel," She said softly, reaching up and cupping his cheek in her hand.

"Sweetheart, you're drunk," Joel said, his hand holding onto her wrist loosely.

"Yeah, but I know what I want, Joel," She said, leaning in and pressing her lips to his gently.

Joel broke off the kiss quickly, "I'm not gonna take advantage of you right now, baby. You're not in your right mind," Joel said.

"I need you, Joel," She pleaded, her hand holding onto the material of his shirt.

He wanted to be the good guy. He wanted to want to bring her back to her apartment and say goodnight, but he didn't.

Joel's hands settled on her waist as he pressed his lips to hers in a rough and passionate kiss. Y/N wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers tangling in his hair as they kissed.

Y/N was desperate for him and he felt the same way, he needed to feel her body against him more than anything. Y/N felt lost and she needed someone to cling to, someone who could show her that the world wasn't all bad. Joel would do whatever it took to be that person for her.

His hands slid to the back of her thighs, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him as Joel held her securely. Joel carried her over to his bed easily, laying her down on the mattress and settling his body between her legs.

He broke off the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked down at her, "You sure about this, darlin'?" He asked, she nodded quickly.

"Not good enough. I need to hear you," Joel said.

"I want you, Joel," Y/N said, pulling his lips back to hers.

That was the first time they'd slept together.

...

They had never really spoken about what happened that night, but the dynamic between them had shifted. Joel and Y/N knew that they were important to one another, the rest didn't matter.

Y/N went to his apartment often, they shared a few drinks and spent the night together like they had before. Joel slept better than he ever had when she was beside him, he didn't need the drink or the pills anymore.

Y/N still had nightmares and difficulty sleeping but she was able to rest more easily beside Joel. He made her feel safe and that meant absolutely everything to her. On nights when she woke up in a panic, he held her close and helped her calm down.

Then, without them even realizing it, Y/N slept over one night and never left. It had been years since they spent the night apart and he couldn't imagine it any other way.

Joel and Tess had been talking about going to scavenge a new area that the QZ was expanding into. It was believed to have been overrun with infected, but an officer had recently informed them that it wasn't.

Tess wanted to search the area before others realized that it had been cleared. It was a relatively small shopping center with over a dozen shops inside.

Joel was honestly shocked at how decent the inside still looked. A variety of chain stores that he remembered with faded signs and window displays. He and Tess moved through the most promising ones, they gathered batteries, weapons and tools before moving back towards the entrance.

Joel noticed a jewlery store along the way with smashed open cases. He scanned the inside of the store before approaching the jewlery case. Almost everything was missing, barely anything left behind but broken glass. Joel felt stupid for even looking, but then he saw it.

Joel carefully pushed the glass aside and picked up a plain gold band. Looters must not have noticed it in their rush to grab everything that they could in the early days.

"Didn't take you for a jewlery man, Joel," Tess remarked, making her way over to him.

"It's not for me," He stated, tucking the ring into his pocket and adjusting his hold on his gun.

"Congrats," Tess said.

"Haven't even asked her yet," Joel replied, moving back into the center of the mall.

"She's gonna say yes," Tess said, following after him and falling into step at his side.

"You don't know that," Joel muttered.

"Maybe, but I know her and I know that she loves your grumpy ass for some reason. She's gonna say yes, Joel," Tess assured.

"Hope so," Joel nodded.

Joel returned from the shopping center, stopping briefly to make a trade before going back to the apartment. Y/N was sitting at the table sipping on a glass of moonshine as she waited for him. Y/N stood up when he stepped through the door, abandoning her cup on the table and making her way over to him.

"You okay?" She asked.

"I'm fine, baby," Joel nodded, setting his pack down on the floor.

"You took longer than you said and I got nervous," Y/N said, crossing her arms.

"I stopped to make a trade on the way back," Joel stated, kneeling down and opening his pack.

Y/N gasped when he pulled out a bottle of whiskey, "Is that real?" She asked, moving closer to him.

"It is," He nodded, holding it out to her.

Y/N took the bottle from his hand, looking down at the label as she made her way into the kitchen, "Jesus, Joel, how much did you have to trade for this?" Y/N asked.

"Nothin' crazy," He shrugged, standing up and making his way over to her.

Y/N pulled out the cork, taking a soft smell of the alcohol inside before pouring it into two glasses. Joel took one of the cups, taking a sniff of the liquor before clinking his cup gently against hers.

"Cheers, baby," He said.

"Cheers," She replied with a smile.

They both took a sip, savoring the taste of actual alcohol compared to the moonshine they usually drank.

"Why don't we sit down for a bit, honey?" Joel questioned, Y/N nodded.

Joel grabbed the bottle and followed Y/N over to the couch, she sat down on the couch and he settled in beside her. Joel put the bottle on the floor and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her body into his side.

They sat in silence for a while, simply enjoying each other's company as they drank. The hours stretched on and the sun set outside, the light in the apartment fading slowly.

Y/N leaned her head on Joel's shoulder as she enjoyed the alcoholic buzz that settled over her.

Joel pressed a kiss to the top of her head, "Can I show you somethin'?" He asked, she nodded.

Joel reached into the pocket of his shirt, pulling out the gold band and holding it out for her to see.

Y/N's face fell and she looked up at him, "Joel," She started.

"Before you say anything, I just need you to know that I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life tryin' to show you how much," Joel said.

"Yes," Y/N responded.

Joel chuckled, "Baby, I haven't even asked you yet... At least let me ask you before you say yes," Joel smiled.

"Okay, ask me," Y/N replied, looking up at him.

"Settle down, woman. I gotta remember what I was gonna say," Joel said.

"You forgot what you were gonna say?" Y/N questioned.

"This is my first time askin' someone to marry me. Forgive me for needing a second, honey," Joel said. Y/N smiled and rested her hand on his thigh as she waited for him to gather his thoughts.

"I never expected to find someone like you in a world like this. After I lost my daughter, I shut down for a while and I became someone who I wasn't proud to be. You make me wanna be a better man and I love you so damn much for that. Now I'm gonna ask you for real this time, so try and contain yourself," He continued.

"I can't make any promises," Y/N said.

Joel huffed a laugh, lightly pinching the skin of her arm. She smacked his hand away with a laugh, "Go on then. You've got me on the edge of my seat here, Miller," Y/N said.

"Will you marry me?" Joel questioned.

"Yes," She replied.

...

Y/N and Joel had been unofficially married for almost a year. Things in the QZ were going as expected, but Joel's brother had stopped replying to his messages and he was getting antsy.

Joel hated the silence and knew that he needed to go and find his brother. Y/N and Tess agreed to join him on his trip to Wyoming, but car batteries were hard to come by.

Tess had arranged a trade but she was screwed over at the last minute and left in the lurch. The man she had been working with gave away their battery and used up her credits. Joel was furious and it took a lot of convincing to keep him from going after them.

Joel had established an unsavory reputation for himself in the QZ and people did everything they could to avoid his wrath.

Joel knew that Tess was right about taking a gentler approach to get the battery back, but the rage still simmered within him. These people stole from Tess and beat her for absolutely no reason. No man should ever put his hands on a woman and if they did, they deserved to deal with the consequences. Joel found it incredibly difficult, but he kept himself in check for the sake of his brother.

Tess found out who the battery had been given to and the trio found themselves on the doorstep of the Fireflies. Marlene had been injured and most of the resistance members had been killed.

Marlene offered the battery to Joel on the condition that he took some cargo to the capitol building outside the QZ. Joel wanted absolutely nothing to do with it, but he needed to get to Tommy.

Y/N left it up to him, but Tess was quick to encourage the idea and he reluctantly agreed. The cargo from the Fireflies was a fourteen-year-old girl named Ellie and things had suddenly become more complicated.

Joel decided that they would bring the girl back to their apartment and take her out of the QZ at nightfall.

Joel went to sleep on the couch when they returned to the apartment, leaving Y/N to keep an eye on Ellie. He knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep with an unknown person in the apartment, even if it was a kid. Y/N was stubborn as a mule so there was no room for arguing.

Y/N sat on a chair across the room, laying her guns out on the small table in front of her. Ellie watched Y/N take apart each of her guns quickly, cleaning and reloading each one with expert precision.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with the young girl, "You're really good at that... Were you in the military?" Ellie asked, desperate to break the tense silence.

"I was," Y/N nodded, inserting the clip into her gun with a soft click. Ellie noticed the gold band on her left hand as she moved.

"You're married?" Ellie questioned.

Y/N looked up at her, "Why do you want to know, kid?" She asked.

"I don't, but we have a few hours to kill and neither of us is going to sleep," Ellie said.

Y/N sat silently for a moment before she replied, "Yeah, I'm married," Y/N said.

"Who's the lucky guy?" Ellie asked.

Y/N tucked a gun into her backpack, "You ask a lot of questions, kid," Y/N said.

"You seem like a person who has a lot of answers," Ellie shrugged.

"I'm married to Joel," Y/N responded.

"Seriously?" Ellie questioned, looking over at the sleeping man on the couch skeptically.

"Isn't he old enough to be your dad? I mean, I'm not kink-shaming or anything, but it kinda seems like he's robbing the cradle," Ellie said, turning back to Y/N.

Y/N didn't respond as she tucked a gun into her holster, "He's like fifty, right? And you're in your thirties?" Ellie questioned.

"Where exactly are you going with this, kid?" Y/N asked.

"Well, when you were born he was like twenty. Doesn't that gross you out a little?" Ellie questioned, scrunching up her face in disgust.

"I love my husband," Y/N stated.

Ellie held up her hands, "I'm sure you do," She said.

Y/N shook her head, packing away the last of her weapons before grabbing her rifle and sitting back in the chair.

"Oh, awesome, we're back to staring at each other in silence. I was hoping that we'd get back to that," Ellie said sarcastically.

#joel miller imagine #joel miller #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #tess the last of us #the last of us #the last of us imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x oc #joel miller x original character #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x f!oc #joel miller x female oc #tlou

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cumironi · 1 year ago

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CURSEBOUND HEART : RYOMEN SUKUNA

THE HIDDEN CURSE

Satomi Gojo, a talented sorcerer with a mysterious past, senses an unusually powerful cursed energy and decides to investigate. Her search leads her to an abandoned building where she encounters Yuji Itadori, the vessel of Sukuna. As Sukuna temporarily takes control of Yuji, he recognizes Gojo’s sister as his reincarnated wife, sparking a tense confrontation and revealing a dark, shared history.

⠀⠀⠀Tokyo Jujutsu High buzzed with the controlled chaos of students training under the watchful eye of Satoru Gojo, the enigmatic sorcerer known for his limitless potential and mysterious past. The morning sun filtered through trees in the training ground as Gojo guided his charges through rigorous exercises. His blue eyes are watching his sister closely, intensely.

⠀⠀⠀In the tranquil serenity of Tokyo Jujutsu High's secluded training grounds, Satomi Gojo moved with effortless grace, her movements a testament to years of disciplined training. Surrounded by ancient trees and the soft rustle of leaves, she focused intently, channeling her energy into precise strikes and intricate seals. She can feel her brother's eyes on her, watch every move she makes, every breath she takes, every blood that pumps in her heart— like he's waiting for the second she's made a mistake and makes fun of her like when she was a kid.

⠀⠀⠀But amidst the calm, a sudden ripple in the air disrupted Satomi's concentration. A familiar, sinister presence stirred within her, sending shivers down her spine. Cursed energy, ancient and malevolent, surged around her like a spectral tide, awakening memories buried deep within her soul.

⠀⠀⠀As she continued her exercises, snippets of another life flickered through Satomi's mind like shards of a shattered mirror. She saw herself in a distant past, clad in robes of another era, standing before a figure wreathed in darkness—the enigmatic King of Curses, Sukuna.

⠀⠀⠀In those fleeting moments, Satomi glimpsed fragments of a forbidden love that defied the boundaries of time and reason. She remembered the whispered promises exchanged under moonlit skies, the tender moments stolen amidst the chaos of battle, and the bitter anguish of betrayal that tore them apart.

⠀⠀⠀A sudden surge of cursed energy snapped Satomi back to the present. The sensation was unmistakable—the same chilling aura that once bound her heart to Sukuna's in a tumultuous dance of fate. Her pulse quickened with a mixture of dread and determination as she realized the implications of its return.

⠀⠀⠀The moment she got pulled back to reality she could feel her heart beating faster, hurting her in the process. Satomi coughed and fell to her knees, she clutched her hand to her heart and felt the pain as if a thousand needles rained down right to her heart. At the same time, she also could feel the same pain in her right eye. With one hand covering her eyes, Satomi looks to her left where her brother stands. Just as she knows Gojo is already looking at her. Satomi couldn't figure out what he was thinking behind that blindfold and one thing that she was sure of was that Gojo knew what happened to her, maybe.

⠀⠀⠀Suddenly, a sharp ring pierced the air, breaking the rhythm of the training session. Gojo’s expression shifted imperceptibly from you, his usually playful demeanor giving way to a mask of focused determination. With a fluid motion, he retrieved his phone from his pocket and glanced at the caller ID—a fellow sorcerer from the Jujutsu world.

⠀⠀⠀“Gojo-sensei,” the voice on the other end crackled with urgency, “we’ve detected an anomaly in the heart of Tokyo. Cursed energy levels are off the charts. It could be Sukuna.” Gojo’s eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of Sukuna, the infamous King of Curses whose existence posed a perpetual threat to the delicate balance of the Jujutsu world.

⠀⠀⠀Without another word, he ended the call and turned to his students, to you, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. “Class dismissed,” Gojo’s tone brooked no argument. Before he went, he looked at you from afar, without saying a word you know he doesn't want you to do anything stupid and know your place.

⠀⠀⠀Gojo, he sensed the anomaly spreading like a festering wound within the city and the last thing he wanted was your stupid and careless behavior. So he gathered a team of trusted students—Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, and Nobara Kugisaki—and briefed them on the urgency of their mission.

⠀⠀⠀“Gojo-sensei!” Yuji waves his hand in the air once a glimpse of his favorite teacher comes into his vision. “You guys here!” with his back pressed against the car door and both hands in his pocket, Gojo smiled and waved back. “So what are we gonna do here?” Nobara asked, holding her hammer in one hand.

⠀⠀⠀“Listen up,” Gojo began, his tone devoid of its usual lightheartedness. “We have a situation in the city. Cursed energy levels are off the charts. It’s highly likely Sukuna is involved. This is serious. We need to move out now.” Yuji's eyes narrowed. The mention of Sukuna sent a chill down his spine. The King of Curses was a perpetual threat, one that required immediate and decisive action.

⠀⠀⠀Even tho he felt scared, Yuji, always eager to help, nodded determinedly. Megumi’s eyes narrowed in focus, while Nobara cracked her knuckles, ready for whatever came their way. Unbeknownst to them, Satomi Gojo, Satoru's younger sister, and a skilled sorceress, silently volunteered to join the mission. Driven by a personal stake in the unfolding crisis, she blended into the shadows, her presence unnoticed but her determination unwavering.

⠀⠀⠀The team moved swiftly through the bustling streets of Tokyo, the vibrant cityscape a stark contrast to the dark energy they were tracking. Gojo led them with unerring precision, his senses finely tuned to the anomaly’s location. Satomi trailed behind, her heart pounding with anticipation. The cursed energy she sensed was unmistakably familiar, stirring memories of a past life intertwined with Sukuna’s.

⠀⠀⠀Their journey led them to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city, where the cursed energy pulsated with a sinister rhythm. Shadows danced eerily along the walls as the team cautiously entered, each step fraught with tension and uncertainty.

⠀⠀⠀As they ventured deeper into the warehouse, Yuji’s senses suddenly sharpened. “Huh?” he stopped in the middle, making the two of his friends stop in their tracks as well. “What is it now, Yuji?” Nobara asks, seems like she's not really in the mood for Yuji's bullshit in the middle of the mission. Megumi just looked at his friend with a bored expression. “Didn't you guys feel that? Suddenly the air feels so heavy,” he says.

⠀⠀⠀“Is it Sukuna?” Nobara asks.

⠀⠀⠀The air grew heavy with an oppressive presence as Sukuna’s malevolent energy coalesced around them. Satomi’s heart skipped a beat as she somehow recognized the familiar aura, her instincts screaming a warning of imminent danger.

⠀⠀⠀In the dimly lit confines, Yuji’s body tensed, a vessel for the ancient curse that lay dormant within. As if drawn by an invisible force, Sukuna emerged, his gaze locking onto a girl with unsettling familiarity. Satomi stood her ground, eyes locked onto him, her heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. The cursed spirit's smirk was as sinister as ever, but beneath it lay a flicker of something more—recognition, perhaps, or even regret. Yuji's bare face is now covered with Sukuna's tattoos.

⠀⠀⠀“Hina,” Sukuna’s voice echoed through the cavernous space, a whisper laden with centuries-old secrets, “you've been hiding from your past for too long.” Satomi had no idea who Mirumi was, as hard as she could to try to connect the dot she had none, but somehow she knew it was meant for her, that Hina was her. Satomi’s breath caught in her throat as she stared into the abyss of his gaze, seeing echoes of love and a betrayal that transcended lifetimes.

⠀⠀⠀Sukuna’s taunts cut through the silence like a blade, dredging up memories of their shared past—moments of passion intertwined with betrayal and heartache. Yuji struggled against Sukuna’s growing influence, his internal battle mirrored by the turmoil raging within Satomi’s heart.

⠀⠀⠀Satomi's jaw clenched. Instantly she feels rage buried beneath her flesh like she's never felt before, like she never knew it was there. “And you’ve been wreaking havoc for centuries. What do you want from me, Sukuna?” She doesn't know why she recognized him, as she had known him for as long as she can remember. Her six senses can recognize him but only the basic one, but her soul? it's like it already belongs to him.

⠀⠀⠀Their confrontation was electric, each word dripping with the weight of a shared history neither she nor the other three fully understood. “What the fuck is going on?” Nobara whispered to her friend next to her, Megumi. The man shrugged his shoulder, having no idea just like her, “No clue, Nobara, no clue. But just get ready, we don't know what sukuna might do,” he informed her. While for Satomi and Sukuna, memories of their intertwined fates, of battles fought and losses endured, flashed through Satomi's mind. She had always known there was more to her connection with Sukuna than she cared to admit, but now, facing him directly, the truth was unavoidable.

⠀⠀⠀Satomi stepped forward, her resolve hardening. She would not let Sukuna's taunts break her. With a swift motion, she summoned her cursed energy, a radiant blue aura enveloping her form. Her skills were formidable, honed by years of rigorous training under her brother's guidance.

⠀⠀⠀Sukuna smirked, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and challenge. “You've grown stronger, Satomi. But have you grown strong enough?” Without warning, he lunged at her, his speed blinding. Satomi met his attack head— on, their energies clashing in a brilliant explosion of light and shadow. The impact sent shockwaves through the warehouse, causing the very walls to tremble.

⠀⠀⠀Yuji, struggling to regain control, watched in awe and horror as Satomi and Sukuna engaged in a deadly dance. Each strike from Sukuna was met with a counter from Satomi, her movements precise and calculated. She fought not just with power, but with the weight of their shared history driving her forward.

⠀⠀⠀As they clashed, Sukuna continued to taunt her. “Do you remember the night we first met? The promises we made under the stars? How you swore you'd never leave my side?” Satomi's eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and determination. “And do you remember how you betrayed those promises, Sukuna? How do you turn your back on everything we stood for?” Their battle was not just physical, but emotional. Each strike carried the weight of their past, each taunts a reminder of wounds that had never truly healed. Sukuna's power was overwhelming, but Satomi's resolve was unyielding.

⠀⠀⠀In a moment of desperation, Yuji found an opening. Drawing on every ounce of his strength, he fought to suppress Sukuna's influence, his will battling against the curse's malevolent force. “Sukuna! Get out of my body!” For a brief moment, the warehouse was filled with a blinding light. Sukuna's hold weakened, and Yuji regained control, his body trembling with the effort. Satomi, sensing the shift, delivered a powerful blow, sending Sukuna reeling.

⠀⠀⠀The skirmish ended as suddenly as it began. Sukuna's presence receded, leaving Yuji gasping for breath, his body drenched in sweat. Satomi stood over him, her expression a mixture of relief and sorrow. “Are you okay?” she asked softly, helping Yuji to his feet. Yuji nodded weakly, his eyes reflecting the emotional weight of what had transpired.

⠀⠀⠀“Yeah...thanks to you.”

⠀⠀⠀Back at Tokyo Jujutsu High, the team regrouped, the atmosphere heavy with the gravity of their encounter. Satomi and Gojo retreated to a private sanctuary, their voices hushed with concern.

⠀⠀⠀The atmosphere in Tokyo Jujutsu High was tense as the team returned from the harrowing encounter with Sukuna at the abandoned warehouse. Satomi Gojo, her mind still reeling from the clash with her ancient nemesis, sought out her brother Satoru in his private study.

⠀⠀⠀Entering the dimly lit room, Satomi found Satoru standing by the window, his back turned to her. His usually composed demeanor was tinged with an underlying current of concern and frustration. Without turning around, he spoke, his voice quiet yet laced with unmistakable authority.

⠀⠀⠀“Satomi,” Satoru began, his tone betraying his simmering emotions, “care to explain why you decided to join the mission without informing me?” Satomi hesitated for a moment, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her shoulders. She knew her brother's strict protocols regarding missions involving high-level curses, especially one as dangerous as Sukuna.

⠀⠀⠀“I... I felt compelled to go,” Satomi started cautiously, choosing her words carefully. “I sensed the cursed energy, Satoru. It felt... familiar. I had to see for myself.” Satoru finally turned to face her, his expression a mix of exasperation and concern. “Familiar? Satomi, do you realize the risks involved? Sukuna is not to be trifled with.”

⠀⠀⠀“I know, Satoru,” Satomi replied earnestly, meeting her brother's gaze head-on. “But there's something about this encounter... something personal.” Satoru sighed heavily, running a hand through his unruly hair. His blue eyes were no longer covered with the blindfold he usually used. He is looking at his sister, trying to see right through her, what's on her mind. “Personal or not, Satomi, you endangered yourself and the mission. You could have jeopardized everything we've been working towards.”

⠀⠀⠀Satomi felt a pang of guilt at her brother's words. She knew he was right. Her impulsive decision could have had dire consequences, not just for herself but for everyone involved. “I'm sorry, brother,” Satomi whispered, her voice tinged with regret. “I didn't mean to cause trouble. But I couldn't just stand by and do nothing.”

⠀⠀⠀Satoru's expression softened slightly, his concern for his sister outweighing his frustration. “I understand, Satomi. But next time, please trust me to handle these situations. We're a team, and we need to act as one.” Satomi nodded silently, acknowledging her brother's wisdom. She knew she had acted recklessly, driven by emotions she couldn't fully comprehend.

⠀⠀⠀As they stood in the quiet of the study, a heavy silence settled between them, punctuated only by the distant sounds of students training outside. The encounter with Sukuna had brought to light old wounds and unanswered questions, casting a shadow of uncertainty over their current mission. “Satomi,” Satoru spoke again, his voice softer now, “what did Sukuna say to you?” Satomi hesitated, the memory of Sukuna's taunts still fresh in her mind.

⠀⠀⠀“He... he remembered me, Satoru. From another life. He spoke of promises and betrayal... things I thought were buried in the past.” Satoru's brow furrowed in concern. “Promises and betrayal... Satomi, what aren't you telling me?” Satomi looked away, her thoughts drifting back to the haunting memories of her past life with Sukuna.

⠀⠀⠀“There's so much I don't understand, Satoru. But I fear our connection to Sukuna goes deeper than we realize. And I'm afraid that whatever happened in the past might threaten our future.” Satoru placed a comforting hand on Satomi's shoulder, a rare display of vulnerability from the usually stoic sorcerer. “We'll figure this out, Satomi. Together. But for now, we need to focus on the mission at hand.” Satoru brings his feet to his sister and ruffles the white-haired girl before kissing her forehead. “I'm here for you, Satomi,” he whispered as he hugged her for a moment.

⠀⠀⠀Satomi nodded solemnly, grateful for her brother's support. The weight of their shared burden hung heavily in the air, a reminder of the challenges they would face in the days to come. As they parted ways, the study door closing softly behind her, Satomi couldn't shake the sense of foreboding that lingered in the depths of her soul. The encounter with Sukuna had opened old wounds and unearthed buried secrets, setting the stage for a drama that would test their bonds and reshape their destinies.

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duskandcobalt · 2 years ago

Text

Echoes in the Hallway

Elain didn’t know why it bothered her so much. Yes, she’d been prepared for a cozy night in with her nephew - just the two of them - but an additional presence in the house wasn’t usually something that would set her off like this.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

….

18+ pls

Azriel finds himself playing chaperone again, this time for the girl he’s been avoiding for months…. What could possibly go wrong?

This is like 7.7k words of shameless angst and smut????? enjoy!!

…

Read on AO3

“Azriel.” Rhys’ voice broke through Azriel’s concentration. Their eyes met as the Shadowsinger looked up from the reports he’d been diligently reading for god knows how long, reclined on a couch in Rhys’ office after their morning debrief with Cassian.

Azriel raised his eyebrows at his brother, already wary of the conversation they were about to have based solely on the seriousness in which Rhys had addressed him.

Rhysand leaned against the corner of his desk. “We’re all going to the Court of Nightmares tomorrow…”

Azriel nodded, shuffling his papers together and setting them to the side so he could sit up straight.

“I know you were supposed to come but something’s come up and I’ll need you to stay here.” Rhys continued.

“Why?” Suspicion laced Azriel’s voice.

“The twins aren’t available and Elain…” Rhys paused, carefully watching his brother’s reaction.

Azriel tensed at the name, frustration immediately building under his skin. He hadn’t let himself even think about that name for almost nine months now.

Solstice felt like a fever dream - a night that had gone so wrong, so quickly that he deigned it easier to just try to forget any of it had even happened. Even if he’d quickly realised that was easier said than done.

“Elain is staying back to watch Nyx.” Rhys finished. He was still studying Azriel, waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming. Anger flowed through Azriel but he pushed it down, wouldn’t let that icy exterior that he’d spent so long perfecting crack.

It had been Rhys after all that had put an end to everything before anything had even had a chance to begin.

“And you want me to stand guard?” Azriel inquired, quiet and steady, no sign of that underlying anger as he spoke.

“No.” Rhys sighed. “But we need Nesta to come with us and Cassian refuses to let her out of his sight after everything happened with the Blood Rite. Feyre’s already stressed about leaving Nyx for the night, with everything that’s happening. Elain and Nyx, leaving them for the first time… she insisted you be the one to stay back.”

“Why me? You told me…”

“I know what I said, Az.” Rhys cut him off. “And please don’t get any ideas. I stand by what I said.”

“So then why me? Why not someone else?”

“Because Feyre trusts you, Az.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We both trust you.” ‘

“Do you?” Azriel scoffed. It was the first obvious display of emotion he’d let Rhysand see during this conversation.

They’d both be lying if they said things hadn’t been a little tense between them since that night where Rhysand had exercised his power, his ranking, in a way he hardly ever did. And for him to use that ranking to call Azriel off for a matter of the heart… Azriel had struggled to move past the decision even if he had done his best to obey.

“You are my spymaster, Azriel.” Rhys leaned back into his chair but his eyes stayed fixed on Azriel. “ You are my spymaster and my brother, of course I trust you.”

Azriel said nothing, only dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the clear sincerity in Rhysand’s tone.

“Don’t do anything to undermine my trust, Az. Just be here tomorrow night and keep an eye on things. There is to be nothing more. Is that understood?”

“I’ve stayed away, haven’t I?” Azriel stood, gathering his things before rolling his shoulders back and allowing his wings to flare behind him. A slight show of power to let his brother, his High Lord, know exactly how he felt about the situation.

“Is that understood, Azriel?” Rhys ignored the display, repeating his words with that same sense of command that he'd used on Solstice.

“Yes.” Azriel replied, words sharp as he swiftly exited the office and made his way out of the house.

…

“I just don’t understand why I need a chaperone when I am the chaperone.” Elain grumbled, avoiding even looking in Azriel’s direction.

They were in the kitchen, Nyx balanced on her hip as she bustled around getting a bottle ready for his first feed of the night. Azriel was standing across the kitchen from her, one scarred hand braced on the counter as he flipped through a thick stack of paper with the other. Also avoiding looking at her.

More reports. His distraction for the night.

The rest of the household had just left for the Hewn City mere minutes ago. Rhys and Feyre had chosen to only inform Elain that Azriel would be accompanying her and Nyx right before they winnowed away.

“It’s a safety precaution, with everything going on…” Azriel replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His hazel eyes stayed focused on his papers.

“Ridiculous. This house is protected within an inch of its life.” Elain threw back, her words cutting.. She saw him tense out of the corner of her eye, clearly unused to hearing this tone of voice from her.

Good.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

She couldn’t even justify being upset at Rhys and Feyre for not telling her sooner. Why would they have thought to warn her? How could they possibly know that spending even a moment alone with the Shadowsinger wasn’t exactly high on her list of enjoyable activities these days?

Having him in her space after all these months apart had completely thrown her off, had her fumbling as she tried to put together a simple bottle. She cursed under her breath as she attempted to screw the top on for the third time. Nyx was entirely unhelpful as his little hands tugged at her hair, pulling curls loose from her braid and further distracting her from the task at hand.

“Need some help?” His low voice was closer than anticipated. She hadn’t noticed him come up behind her.

Alway so damn quiet - something that she’d found endearing once upon a time.

“I’m fine.” She bit back, silently willing her hands to stop shaking as she tried yet again to get the lid on the bottle.

“Elain.” Azriel sighed. Gods, she’d forgotten what her name sounded like on his lips. The effect it had on her body. “I know you don’t want me here. At least let me make myself useful.”

She set the lid down on the counter and turned to face him, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. For the first time since Solstice, really.

It’s hard to make eye contact with someone that seemed to do everything in their power to avoid her.

She could see the exhaustion in his hazel eyes but his face was as beautiful as always. The summer months had leant him a healthy glow, his already tan skin a couple shades deeper, a few freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. His dark hair was just a little longer than she remembered and a slight curl had developed along with the length.

How she had once ached to run her hands through his hair.

Anger flooded her veins again, a fresh wave, this time at herself for even allowing herself to think of him like she used to do.

He was infuriatingly expressionless as he watched her, patiently waiting for her to say something.

“I’ll take him to the great room. Bring the bottle and a cloth.” She relented, shifting Nyx in her arms as she quickly stepped around Azriel. His wings retracted to let her through.

…

Azriel took his time putting the lid on the bottle and grabbing a cloth in order to give Elain a little space.

He felt terrible about this - about having to be in this house, a looming presence that she very clearly didn’t have any desire to be around.

He didn’t know what else he had expected from tonight. He certainly didn’t think things would be like they used to be, back when she’d welcome him into the house with a shy smile, when they’d spend hours quietly talking to each other in the garden. He hadn’t even expected for them to exchange more than a few words.

He just hadn’t been prepared for the anger that radiated off of her.

It was so unlike her, so different from the girl he’d come to know. Of course, he knew that Elain wasn’t as quiet or demure as everyone seemed to think. She was kind, yes. Soft spoken compared to her sisters, yes. But she was also intelligent and sharp and funny in a way that often caught him off guard.

He’d seen her upset in the past, seen her frustrated, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this. So angry that the same raging fire which had once been a constant presence in Nesta’s eyes now infiltrated Elain’s.

He took a deep breath in, picking up the bottle and taking a cloth from the cupboard, steeling himself to face Elain again.

Multiple centuries of life - all those terrifying people and places he’d dealt with in his line of work - and somehow he still felt wholly unprepared and nervous to interact with Elain Archeron.

Azriel found her in the great room, as promised, sitting in a large navy velvet armchair. Her feet were tucked under her, her skirts a never ending cloud of soft pink fabric around her. Nyx was cradled in Elain’s arms, the fire in her eyes nowhere to be seen, her features soft as she babbled back to the babe happily babbling to her. The last bit of light from the setting sun streamed in from the glass doors that led out to the river, illuminating them from behind and Azriel’s breath caught - she looked ethereal.

Elain saw him then and watched as Azriel approached her, flames immediately igniting again as she met his gaze. He held out the bottle and she reached for it, careful to avoid touching his hands in the process. She looked away finally, adjusting Nyx against her chest and watching as he latched on to the bottle.

Azriel found himself fighting back the emotions that came to the surface at the sight before him. Of Elain with a winged babe in her arms, humming softly as she fed him. It was a glimpse into what might’ve been. In another life. Another universe. What he might’ve had if the cauldron had only deemed him worthy.

He tried to push the thoughts down, attempted to let them frost over in the depths of his soul as he shook out the cloth in his hands, doubling it over once before tentatively stepping forward and leaning down to drape it neatly over her shoulder - matching what he’d seen Rhys do for Feyre time and time again. He didn’t miss the way Elain stiffened, the way her breath hitched until he was standing upright again. He hadn’t let his hands so much as graze her skin, as much as he might’ve wanted to.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” He mumbled, one hand coming up to run through his hair, turning on his heel and heading out of the room before she even had a chance to reply.

He couldn’t take it.

There was a reason he’d stayed away all these months and he was quickly remembering just why he’d taken to hiding himself away at the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian. It was too much - being near her, being surrounded by her scent. Not being able to talk to her, not being able to touch her. Seeing her with Nyx. This unspoken tension between them. It was all too much.

He thought that the months apart would’ve helped, that the pull he felt towards her would’ve lessened with time. He hadn’t realised how wrong he’d been - hadn’t realised just how much he still yearned for her.

Azriel took a seat at the dining table, hands dragging over his face once as he attempted to focus on his reports. It was utterly useless, all he could think about was the female down the hall from him.

He had no idea how he’d make it through the night when the pain of this longing was eating him alive.

…

Nyx’s wailing had been echoing through the house for a couple hours now, so loud that Elain was concerned that the windows would shatter regardless of the countless wards Rhys had placed on them.

The poor babe had refused to settle, only sleeping for a few hours before he awoke just after midnight - tears streaming down his sweet face even after Elain had rushed down the hall to him, picking him up and cradling him to her chest.

She had tried everything - changing him, feeding him, singing to him as she sat in a rocking chair. She was at her wits end, bouncing him anxiously in her arms as she paced the nursery, only the moonlight streaming in from the balcony window providing her with just enough light to watch Nyx as he all but screamed in her arms.

She’d done her best to ignore the shadows at the foot of his crib. They’d been there all night, silently laying on the floor where they typically monitored Nyx whenever Azriel was in the house. She glanced at them now and saw that they were gathered together, a cloud of darkness that seemed to keenly watch her, just waiting to be acknowledged. Elain had a feeling they’d been instructed to mind their business and let her handle things tonight but she could tell that they had a different opinion on the subject.

“Go get him, then.” She rolled her eyes, frustrated enough to give in to what she knew they were itching to do. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed she might’ve laughed at the speed at which they vanished, off to find their master.

Azriel appeared seconds later, stepping through his shadows, fully alert with Truthteller clutched in one hand. His hair was a mess, dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He was still dressed in his leathers so he clearly hadn’t made it to bed yet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes scanning the nursery - the empty crib, the corners of the room, the balcony, before settling on her.

She saw him relax slightly once he realised that Nyx was indeed safe but then his eyes were taking her in - ever so slowly grazing over her - head to toe. She couldn’t help the heat that spread through her at his gaze. His eyes burned into her skin as he took in her unbound hair, the thin silk of the nightgown she wore, her feet bare on the plush rug. She was too exasperated to care that he was seeing her in this state of undress.

“I… I don’t know.” Elain rasped, her throat scratchy from being abruptly pulled out of her slumber. “He just won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything, I don’t know what to do.”

“May I?” Azriel stepped towards her, holding out his arms.

Elain paused for a second, looking up at him before gently maneuvering Nyx into his uncle’s outstretched arms.

Azriel took him, those beautiful scarred hands cradling the still screaming babe and bringing him up to rest against his leather clad chest.

She had watched Nyx fill out over these past few months and had often felt that he was growing too quickly for her liking. But now, seeing Azriel with him… Elain couldn’t believe just how small Nyx looked in the arms of the Illyrian warrior. How tiny his body was in those large hands, how fragile he seemed against that broad chest.

Azriel’s hand rubbed smooth circles over Nyx’s back - in between the tiny wings that were beginning to strengthen.

Just five or ten minutes later, Nyx’s wails finally began to die down, his cries fading into small whimpers as he nuzzled further into Azriel’s chest - one tiny fist clutching at his leathers.

“Go to bed, Elain. I’ll stay with him until he sleeps.” Azriel glanced up from where he’d been walking back and forth in front of the window. Elain peered up at him from the rocking chair that she’d fallen into once Azriel had taken over - fighting the exhaustion that threatened to send her to sleep in favour of watching in quiet awe as Azriel managed to calm Nyx down.

“How did you…?” She started.

“I think it’s the wings.” He shrugged. “They can be quite uncomfortable when they’re growing. Mine were so itchy when they were healing after Hybern. I’d imagine it’s even worse for a babe.”

“I didn’t know.” Elain remarked. “I had no idea how to help him.”

“How could you know? It isn’t your fault.” Azriel said softly, fingers still gently rubbing over Nyx’s back. “The leathers probably help too, feels familiar to Rhys.”

“If I’d been here alone…” Tears were gathering in her eyes, the exhaustion of the past few hours hitting her.

“You’d have figured it out.” Azriel cut her off, crossing the room towards her. “Please sleep, Elain. You’ve been with him all evening. I’ve got this.”

He adjusted his grip on Nyx, holding him firm to his chest with one large hand so he could extend his other hand out towards her.

She sighed, her eyes focused on his outstretched hand before she gave in and took it - doing her best to ignore the spark that coursed through her at the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers and pulling her up until she was standing in front of him. He didn’t let go even as Elain went up on her toes to peer at Nyx. Her other hand pressed into Azriel’s chest for balance as she leaned in to place a kiss on her nephew’s cheek.

“Sleep well now, sweet boy.” She said softly before backing up and finally letting her hand drop from Azriel’s chest.

“Goodnight.” He gave her a small smile and let go of her hand, motioning towards the nursery door with his chin - beckoning her to rest.

…

Elain couldn’t sleep even though she was utterly exhausted. She’d been laying in bed, staring up at her ceiling for hours now, her mind racing with seemingly no end in sight. She couldn’t stop thinking.

The way Azriel had looked at her was burned into her memory - the scan of his eyes over her hair, her nightgown clad body, the way his gaze softened as his alert eyes met her exhausted ones.

She pictured him with Nyx, that icy exterior of his melting as the soft side he kept carefully hidden came to the surface once his nephew was safe in his arms.

She thought of the feeling of his hand around hers - his scars grazing against her skin as his fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist. She remembered the feeling of his leather clad chest under her fingers, how the heat from him melted into her even through the thick material… how that heat made her want more - made her want to press her fingers to his bare skin, to feel the muscled chest beneath those leathers.

She pictured his full lips, how’d they once been barely an inch from hers - one hand on her throat with his fingers grazing her jaw to tilt her face up towards his, his other hand buried in her hair. She pictured what it would be like to have those hands of his on her neck again, on other parts of her too.

That all-too-familiar ache swept over her, settling deep in her bones just as it had for months now - night after sleepless night. The anger that coursed through her body during the day always seemed to shift into an unquenchable longing once the sun gave way to the moon and she was alone in her bed.

She knew it was wrong. Knew she had no right to think of him like this, to want him, need him like this. Not when he’d told her it’d been a mistake - even if the way he’d looked at her tonight had said otherwise.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to will away the ache in her chest, the ache between her thighs. She tried her best to try to find sleep until her keen hearing picked up on the sound of a door opening and closing.

Elain barely even realised what she was doing but suddenly she was out of bed and rushing to open the door to her room. She scanned the dark hallways until she found him standing at the top of the stairs. Azriel paused at the sound of her door opening but his shadows continued down the stairs without him.

“He’s asleep.” He turned to face her, those eyes once again quickly scanning her up, down, then back up again. “Why aren’t you?”

She took a second to look at him. Studied the way those leathers clung to him, perfectly contoured to every lean line of his toned body. He was so tall, so statuesque as if one of the gods had carved him out of stone with their very hands. His shoulders were so broad that they blocked out what little fae light carried up the stairs from the lower level of the house.

Elain ignored his question, months of that ache and anger suddenly coming together faster than she could even comprehend, combining into an emotion she couldn’t label. The words spilled out of her before she could even think it through.

“You haven’t spoken to me in months.” She seethed. “You told me I was a mistake and then you left me standing at the bottom of those stairs.” Elain gestured behind him. “You all but disappeared until Nyx was born. Even then, you stopped coming to family dinners, you only ever show up at the house for meetings with Rhys and Cassian and then leave the second they’re done. You go out of your way to avoid me, you refuse to even look in my direction. What did I do wrong?”

Azriel still hadn’t moved from where he had paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on hers in shock as he took in what she was saying.

“You…” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong, Elain.”

“Then why?” Her voice broke as she took one small step down the hallway. “Why have you avoided me like this? You almost kissed me, and then you said I was a mistake…”

“I never said you were a mistake.” He took a step towards her. “You were not the mistake, Elain. I was the one who made a mistake by thinking I had any right to touch you.”

“Because you were with her? With Gwyn?” Elain’s hated how timid she sounded voicing the fear that she’d kept to herself all these months.

Azriel’s face fell.

“She was wearing my… I saw her wearing the necklace.” She corrected herself, leaving the rest unspoken. The crippling fear that Azriel had feelings for Nesta’s beautiful friend.

Elain had seen the necklace around Gwyn’s neck a few months ago when Nesta had invited her to the House of Wind to have lunch with some of the priestesses that she was training. She had done everything in her power to smile at the kind priestess, to try to make polite conversation and not break down in tears when she’d caught a glimpse of the stained glass rose sitting just under Gwyn’s collarbones.

She had willed herself not to think of how that necklace had ended up in Gwyn’s possession but had utterly failed. Had sat in silence, her mind racing as Nesta laughed with Gwyn. The priestesses' musical laughter like a soundtrack to the thoughts infiltrating her mind in that moment - had he looked at Gwyn like he’d looked at Elain that night? Had he put the necklace on her? Had his hands lingered on her throat? Had he kissed her like he’d almost kissed Elain? Did he visit her in the darkest hours of the night? Did she share his bed?

Jealousy swelled within her, the roaring in her ears so loud that she could barely even hear him when he spoke.

“Gwyn is a friend, Elain.” Azriel took another step forward, one hand coming up to land over his heart in earnest. “I help train her and we’re friends. There’s nothing more, I swear.”

“Then why?” She still didn’t understand, couldn’t work out how things had changed in a single second that night.

“I don’t know - I wasn’t thinking clearly after Solstice and I ran into her that same night and we spoke. Then I found the necklace with my gifts…I didn’t know what to do but I couldn’t keep it. So I went to the library and asked Clotho to give it to her, to any of the priestesses. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that now.” This was the fastest she’d ever heard him speak, his hands balling into fists at his sides as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “I don’t even think she knows it was from me.”

“No. I meant…” Elain shook her head. “If you weren’t seeing Gwyn then why was it a mistake? Why was it a mistake to almost kiss me?”

“You have a mate, Elain.” Azriel’s expression faltered. Even in this dark hallway, she could see the pain in his eyes.

Elain laughed. Just one single exhale of air at the reminder of her mate. Red hot rage once again seeped through her.

“That means nothing to me.” She shook her head. “I am so sick of everyone telling me that that means anything.”

“But it does.” Azriel replied. “The mating bond is… it’s rare and it’s a gift to be treasured. There’s nothing like it. To not acknowledge it, to not try at the very least, would be… it would be a mistake.”

“I don’t want to acknowledge it.” Elain’s throat felt like sandpaper, her frustration building with each second that passed.

“He’s a good male, Elain.” Azriel’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he broke eye contact with her, gazing at the floor before dragging his eyes up to meet her searing gaze once again. He looked defeated. “He’ll be good to you if you give him a chance.”

Elain took three steps forward, the distance between them becoming smaller although the was still so painfully far away.

“He may be a good male.” She paused, a shaky breath escaping her. She was unable to stop the tears that were falling from her eyes, didn’t have the strength to hold them back anymore. “He may be good, but he is not you.”

‘Elain…” Azriel tried to speak but she held up a hand, silencing him.

“He is not you, Azriel.” She sobbed.

…

Azriel’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight of her words. His ears buzzing as he desperately tried to focus on Elain, beautiful as ever in the moonlight despite the tears cascading down her cheeks. The tears that were there because of him.

Azriel.

She’d never said his name before. Not that he’d ever heard, anyway. Maybe she’d used it in conversations with the others but she had never once, in the last few years, ever used his name when speaking to him.

He is not you. He is not you, Azriel.

Those words, the way she said his name, ricocheted in his mind.

He took two long strides towards her, the distance between them minimal now - if he simply reached forwards, he’d be able to touch her.

“Azriel.” She repeated his name, her eyes searching his own. He still hadn’t said anything. “Did you hear me?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to say something but there were no words. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Could only stare into the depths of those brown doe eyes, glazed with tears, and listened as she continued to speak.

“Lucien… he tries with me because he feels like he has to. He tries because of the bond. He’d have no interest in me if there wasn’t this thing between us.” She was fighting to speak, her words interrupted by deep, heaving sobs.

Azriel fought every instinct that was roaring through him to reach out to her, to hold her against his chest and wipe away her tears.

“No one has stopped to think about what I want. They think that just because there is this bond, I must give myself over to him. That he is who I must be with. It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right. The bond is there. I can feel it and it is like a knife in my side. There is a pull to him, yes… but I’ve always felt a pull towards you, too.”

Azriel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, could barely keep up with everything she was saying as she bared her soul to him. Not even his shadows were there to guard him, to allow him to shroud himself in the safety of darkness. He was left to face her all on his own as she confirmed what he’d long suspected. That she felt that same pull, felt that energy that seemed to radiate between them since they’d first met.

“I felt drawn to you long before I was forced into that cauldron. You were there for me from the very beginning. You were the only one - the only one - to listen to me, to sit with me, to see me. They all thought I was losing my mind. I thought I was losing my mind. You were the only one to know. The only one to understand me.”

Azriel could tell she had thought this through - over and over again. Every word, though pained, was spoken with clear intent. He could tell that this wasn’t just hysterics in the heat of the moment. Elain meant every word she said and it rendered him absolutely speechless.

“My life was taken from me.” She went on, her voice quieter now as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I lost my fiancé, I lost my humanity, I lost my father. So many choices were stolen from me the second I was changed. Do I not deserve to have a say in what I do now? Do I not deserve to have a say in who I love? Do I not deserve to have a say in my own happiness?”

“It’s complicated, Elain.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “You deserve a choice but that choice comes with endless costs…there is already so much tension between the courts.”

“I don’t care!” She took another step closer until there was no space between them at all. Her hands reached for his and though he should’ve taken a step back, should’ve pulled away, he let her take them, let her intertwine her perfect fingers in his.

“You came for me once.” Elain’s voice was soft as she looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together as she stared into the depth of this soul - forced him to recall when he’d risked his life to rescue her. “You fought for me then, will you not fight for me again?”

Tears were still streaming down her face but her sobs had subsided, her voice stronger as she challenged him.

“You know I would, but it’s just… it’s complicated.” He reiterated.

“Do you not want this?” Her face fell, her hands dropping from his as she went to take a step back. The confidence that she had exhibited just a second ago, faltering.

Azriel moved without thinking, one hand landing on her hip to keep her with him.

She gasped as his fingers pressed against her, calluses snagging on the smooth silk of her white gown, the feel of his skin through the thin material warmed her from the inside out.

His other hand landed on her neck, just as it had months ago - his thumb tracing a gentle path along the soft line of her jaw.

“Of course, of course, I want this.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she’d even had to ask. His voice was so low he wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear him despite her face being mere inches from his. “I will always want this.”

Her eyes searched his, her shoulders dropping as all the tension she’d been holding in her body flooded out of her, causing her to slump against him. Azriel fingers flexed, his grip on her hip tightening, keeping her steady.

“I want you.” Elain whispered, tilting her face to look at him properly. “It will always be you.”

She was on her tiptoes then, her hands sliding up his torso until they were on his chest for the second time that night - her nails pressed into his leathers until her lips were just barely against his.

“Please, Azriel.” She all but whimpered.

Her plea cracked something in his chest and he could no longer hold back. All the work he’d done to stay away all these months, all these years, all of it was undone in a single second at the sound of his name on her lips. At the feel of her body against his.

Every wall he’d worked so diligently to build, came crumbling down faster than he could even comprehend.

Azriel closed the distance between them, his hand still on her throat as his lips brushed hers for the first time.

…

There was no going back from this.

The second his lips pressed against hers, tentative and sweet, Elain knew in her heart, in her very soul that nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. To him.

Every thought, every worry, every doubt she’d ever had slipped from her mind as Azriel finally kissed her. His lips were soft as they moved against hers, gentle and careful. He was committing this moment to memory just as she was - both of them desperate to remember every second of this, every possible detail. His tongue slid against her lips and she opened for him without a second thought, allowing him to deepen the kiss as she met him stroke for stroke.

Elain couldn’t get close enough to him, her hands frantically coming up from his chest to tangle in his hair, fingers tugging him down in a silent request for more, more, more.

His groan as she pressed her body tight against his reverberated through her and she couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped her in response. Every ounce of blood, every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming for him - for his attention.

“Touch me.” Elain begged. His face was buried against her neck now, his lips and teeth and tongue grazing the sensitive skin causing her to arch further into him even though there was barely any space between them to begin with. “Please, Azriel.”

He relented, his hand slipped from her throat, one finger slowly skimmed along the delicate neckline of her nightgown before traveling lower. After what felt like a million years, his fingers grazed her peaked nipple, circling once, twice, before his large palm covered her breast and squeezed gently. His other hand released her hip to slip behind her, gripping the generous curve of her ass and pressing her firmly against him - allowing her to feel exactly how hard he was for her.

Her head tipped back, exposing more of her neck to him as her mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of him in between her thighs. Elain rolled her hips against his as if it was second nature, seeking out that delicious pressure against her core again and again all while cursing the few despicable layers of fabric that separated her from truly feeling every inch of him.

His lips were on hers once more, all his previous gentleness nowhere to be found, replaced instead with pure heated passion as he claimed her with bruising kisses. She was dizzy - all she could feel was him, all she could taste was him, all she could smell was him - the combined scent of both of their arousal was heavy in the air, permeating every square inch of the hallway.

Azriel’s hands slipped under her ass as he continued to kiss her, bunching up the silk of her gown until he could get his hands on the back of her bare thighs. He let his thumbs drift over her soft skin once before lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms draped around his broad shoulders. He carried her with him, walking backwards until he could set her on a small console table in the middle of the hallway.

That familiar energy between them sizzled, only amplifying with each pass of his lips over her lips, her neck, her collarbones. She could’ve sworn there was a glowing aura around them as he lowered his face to her breasts, tongue laving at her nipples over her slip. The sensation of the damp fabric sliding against her skin was enough to have her seeing stars.

“Azriel.” She pleaded again, unsure what she was even asking for.

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” His mouth was still on her chest, hands raking her nightgown even further up her thighs as he raised his eyes to watch her. “Look at me and tell me what you want.”

Cool air hit the heat of her core at the exact same time she met his eyes.

The sound that she let out at that moment was almost embarrassing, her face and chest flushing. She felt him smile against the curve of her breast as he watched her. His eyes were darker than night, darker than she’d ever seen them. His tousled hair fell over his brows, casting shadows that only added to the darkness. Despite their darkness, there was a certain softness, a reverence in his gaze that she knew was reserved just for her.

She still hadn’t answered him. How could she possibly form words when his lips were on her breast? When his fingers were pressing into the flesh of her thighs? She couldn’t think straight, not when the soft ridges of his scars were sliding over her sensitive skin, going higher and higher with each pass as her legs widened for him on their own accord.

His eyes bore into hers as he straightened, raising up until his face was inches from her face. Azriel watched her carefully as he dragged a knuckle up her bare center - an absolute tease of a touch, so light that she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Is this what you want, Elain?” His breath fanned over her as he spoke, their lips almost touching.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” The word left her mouth in a gasp at the sheer command in his voice, at the brush of that same knuckle over the nerves at the apex of her thighs. She clutched at his neck, nails surely marking his skin as she kissed him.

Azriel kissed her as if he’d never get the chance to kiss her again, a searing kiss that caused a whole new wave of arousal to crest through her. But even his hot mouth pressing over hers couldn’t distract her from the feeling of two of his fingers slowly sliding through her, parting her, before his middle finger dipped into her just once.

“Look how wet you are for me.” He murmured in awe, pulling away just enough so he could bring his hand up between them. Azriel studied his fingers, the way the moonlight caught the wetness gathered there and made it glisten.

Her eyes went wide as she watched him take that finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it. She blushed when his eyes fluttered, savouring the taste of her.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste, Elain?” He returned his finger to her core, adding another, and then sank them into her once more in one slow thrust.

She couldn’t say anything, didn’t have the opportunity to when his fingers curled inside her, searching her upper walls until he found what he was seeking.

Those nimble fingers stroked a place that she hadn’t even known existed within her and Elain’s moan echoed in the hallway, her chest arching up into him - the friction of his leathers against her nipples only adding to the feeling of ecstasy that coursed through her.

Her hands roamed, grasping frantically at his chest, at his back. Azriel continued to steadily move his fingers within her. She needed to feel more of him. Needed the warmth of his skin.

“How do I…?” She whined, frustrated that she couldn’t find a single button or zip on his leathers. He’d have to do it. “Take this off.”

“No time. They’ll be back soon.” Azriel took her lower lip in between his teeth, tugging once before letting it go. “Just let me do this for you.”

She started to argue but Azriel kissed her again, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he stroked her over and over again.

“Another time.” He whispered, moving his lips to her neck and biting down lightly at the same time his thumb circled her clit.

“Fuck.” Elain cursed, immediately blushing as Azriel laughed against her throat - both of them surprised by her choice of words. She swallowed her embarrassment, choosing to focus on the desire burning low in her stomach instead. “Do that again.”

Azriel obeyed her order, running his thumb in smooth circles over her as he pumped his fingers into her, maintaining that same rhythm and ensuring that the tips of his fingers bumped against that spot inside of her with each pass.

Just a minute later, before she even knew what was happening, Elain’s vision blurred, her eyes squeezing shut as every nerve in her body came alive. She clutched at his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands as she clenched hard around his fingers. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as she came for him.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed before she regained her sense of self. Azriel’s fingers had slipped out of her but he’d pressed himself against her instead, alleviating the emptiness that she felt without his fingers filling her. Azriel’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight to his chest, one hand in her hair as she attempted to catch her breath.

“That’s it, Elain.” He whispered into her hair, hands drawing soothing circles low on her back. “You did so good for me.”

“That was… I’ve never…” Elain breathed against his neck.

“You’ve… never?” Azriel stilled, his hand paused its circles but he continued to hold her against him.

“I mean, I’ve had…” Elain said quickly, trailing off. Her words were muffled as she spoke into his skin, “But no one’s ever done that for me. I’ve never…”

“Finished?” Azriel completed her sentence.

She nodded, face still tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder. Despite what they’d just done, she felt shy admitting this to him.

She pulled back slowly when he didn’t say anything further. The sweat from her body caused her slip to stick to her.

Elain swallowed her nerves, looking into his eyes - searching them for any sign of regret.

She found none. Only saw simmering lust and adoration.

“You deserve to feel like that every time, Elain.” A small satisfied smile tugged at his lips. Some primal part of him secretly fulfilled at the knowledge that he was the first person to make her come. He tucked a strand behind her pointed ear. “You should really go back to bed now.”

Elain’s eyebrows furrowed together. She wasn’t ready for this to end, wanted to stay here, safe in his arms, in this blissful bubble, forever. But besides that, she could still feel him - impossibly hard - where he was pressed firmly against her.

She kept her eyes on his as she reached down in between them, fingers itching to feel him but Azriel’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she had the chance to touch him.

“They’ll be home soon.” He shook his head, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to each of her finger tips. “We have to save something for later.”

His words warmed something deep within her.

Later.

The promise of more.

“You won’t disappear again?” She allowed herself to voice her insecurity. The worry that things would go back to how they were before.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll seek you out. We’ll find a way. There’s more I want to do for you. With you.”

“Okay.” She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“This has to be just between us for now.” Azriel’s face was as serious as his voice. His large hands moved to cradle her face, fingers tracing softly along her cheekbones. “I’ll figure out how to make this work but for now… just between us.”

“Just between us.” She promised, repeating his words back to him.

She’d take whatever she could get. For now, this would have to be enough.

To have him in secret was better than not having him at all.

Azriel kissed her one last time before he backed out from between her legs, fixing her night gown to cover her before helping her down from where he’d perched her on the narrow table. His hands stayed on her waist, brushing over her curves until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight, Azriel.” She gave him a soft smile before walking away from him and back to her room.

The Shadowsinger watched until Elain’s door shut behind her and then he sighed, smoothing a hand over his unruly hair as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get the scent of them out of this hallway within the next hour.

#elriel #acotar #azriel x elain #acosf #mine #azriel #elain #elain x azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel smut #azriel smut #smut #angst #fic rec #writing #my writing #elain archeron #post solstice

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garbinge · 1 year ago

Text

Thanksgiving

Richie Jerimovich x Platonic!Reader mention of Carmy Berzatto x Platonic!Reader

30 Day Fic Challenge (15/30)

A/N: Patiently waiting for June 27th lololol

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: All my fics are 18+ regardless of content. Light angst, shit talking, cursing (lots), family problems, daddy issues. Mentions of someone losing their life from alcoholism, homelessness, hitting rock bottom.

The Bear Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @quixscentsposts @dadbodfanatic-x @adorable-punk-superheroes @lodeddiperrodrick @isalver @captainweasleybarnes @musicwithteeth @fancyvoidtragedy @shinebright2000 @knight4xmas @gills-lounge @navs-bhat @cosmicak @kmc1989 Other fics from this universe

The knock on your door wasn’t what you were expecting at 11:30 on Thanksgiving night. You weren’t exactly dressed for company in your pajamas, but the knocking was insistent so there wasn’t a way to ignore it or have time to change.

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming!” You called out as you made your way to the entrance and opened the door.

“You don’t look through the peephole before answering the door? I coulda been a murderer.” Richie was standing at the door of your apartment in one of his few nice sweaters with a tote bag in his hand.

“You here to murder me, Rich?” You stepped back and welcomed him in with a sway of your arm.

“I’m here to feed you, you weren’t at Thanksgiving.” He didn’t waste any time from when you invited him in and was already in the kitchen placing the bag down. “Why weren’t you at Thanksgiving?”

You took a deep breath and let out a harsh exhale, this wasn’t something you were expecting to talk about at this moment.

“Um, I’ve had my fair share of unstable parents lately.” You brought your hand up to your head as the past few conversations with your father flashed through your mind quickly.

Richie stopped pulling things out of the tote bag and looked up at you. “Your dad call you again? What was he lookin’ for before? Baseball cards right? You should hook ‘em up with the Faks, they got that baseball card scheme runnin’, the stupid fucks.” He let out a laugh and continued to pull stuff out of the bag.

Any other day, you’d join him in the banter. Any other day you’d enjoy it, but today wasn’t any other day.

“Richie.” You said his name so solemnly and he looked up at you immediately. It broke you seeing his face drop from a smile to a straight mouthed expression but you didn’t have much left in you to take it back. The next best thing you could do was explain. “Uh, Thanksgiving is just–” you paused for a minute as your brain searched for the right word. “It’s a day for me, alright.” You felt yourself get tense, the emotions that you didn’t want to think about, feel, or simply acknowledge were rising to the surface and it was making you angry. Your eyes closed out of instinct, an exercise to push the rage back down, and after taking a deep breath you re-opened them and stared at Richie.

Richie’s face didn’t change, it was still as heartbreaking as before even though it would have been described as neutral.

“How was Donna tonight?” You changed the topic quick and moved over to look at what Richie had in the tupperware containers.

“How do you think?” It was said like the conversation prior didn’t even happen.

“Yea, I figured.” You let out a snort. “She make the cannolis?” Your eyes were scanning around the containers looking for them.

“They’re somewhere in here, let me start putting this shit away and I’ll find ‘em.” He was turning around to face your fridge now. As the door to the cooler swung open, he froze. It went unnoticed by you as you continued to bury your emotions down so you didn’t start a misguided fight.

“What the fuck is this?” Richie was pointing inside the fridge and then at the container on the stovetop. Despite the cursing, he didn’t seem mad or pointed, just confused.

As your eyebrows raised and you turned around to see what he was talking about, you answered quickly.

“Oh, Carmy dropped off food for me last night.”

“Carmy knew you weren’t coming to Thanksgiving?” Now that statement held a little hurt in it, but you acted like you couldn’t tell.

“Carmy knows I never come to Thanksgiving.” You added a shrug to the statement to help make it seem nonchalant.

“I didn’t know you never come to Thanksgiving.” It was mumbled, like he was embarrassed.

“Why would you?” Another shrug left your shoulders and you moved to help him move a couple things in the fridge.

“Because I notice when you’re around.” It was such a soft statement that any other time it would have melted you to your core. But you could tell for him it was also like he was defending himself behind this sweet statement.

The bantering part of you wanted to retort that statement with a ‘clearly not.’ since you hadn’t been at a Berzatto Thanksgiving in over a decade, but with how Richie was talking and where you were at mentally tonight, you knew it wasn’t going to be good for either of you.

“It’s the first year that we’re–,” you stopped yourself at that statement because you didn’t know what you were and this was not the night you wanted to take the time to define it. “It’s the first year you’d actually notice, it’s not a big deal.”

“I guess I just missed you, and feel like something important is happening and everyone knows but me.”

Shocked would have been an understatement. Did Richie Jerimovich just express how he was feeling?

“You been reading that book?” You frowned, a smile forming slightly on your face as you stared up him.

“Fuck you, yea I been reading that book.” The self-consciousness flooding his senses at your look.

“Everyone doesn’t know. Just Carmy.” If you knew the weight the last two words would leave on him, you probably wouldn’t have said them but it was too late, the words were already hanging in the air.

“And the reason Carmy knows is because he’s known since 10 years or whatever ago.” You hoped that would offer up enough explanation to hold him over a bit.

“So what did Carmy bring you?” Richie was moving past you to look into the fridge again.

“Not cannolis.” Moving in the opposite direction you started searching in the bag.

“I brought too much shit, your fridge is stocked, shit’s gonna go bad.”

“What did Pete bring this time?” The clicking of the to-go container muffled your question but it was worth it as you pulled out one of 5 cannolis.

“A fuckin’ pie.” Annoyance was dripping off his tone. He leaned against the counter with his arms crossed.

Your head snapped at him, your mouth full of pistachio cannoli, surprise written all over your face.

“That sounds good.”

“It was fuckin’ rhubarb.” Richie spit out, his arms still crossed and eyebrows frowning as he remembered the pie.

“God, who the fuck likes rhubarb.” Your face twisted in disgust, the shock fully faded now as the realization that Pete didn’t succeed yet again in his gracious hosting gifts this holiday.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said. It’s a god damn vegetable.”

You let out a laugh at that as you took another bite of the cannoli.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for him.” Now you were just making conversation.

“Never was for you.” Richie shrugged as he recalled what rotation of items you’d bring to different Berzatto gatherings. “Hot chocolate, olive oil, those toffee chocolate things, one year you brought those stuffed olives.”

The shock came back and became very apparent on your face again as you turned to look at him for an answer.

“I told you I notice.” His hands lifted in innocence. “Plus your hot chocolate is the fuckin’ best, hard to forget.”

“There’s some in the pot.” You pointed to the stove but then went to grab two mugs.

The two of you melted into a comfortable silence, the tapping of your wooden spoon as it stirred in the pot of hot chocolate, the metal spoons clinking in the mugs as the liquid poured into them. The TV was at a lulled volume in the background, the slight sounds of Steve Harvey’s voice as family feud reruns ran.

As the two of you were on the last legs of your hot chocolate, Richie spoke up.

“You watchin’ The Game Show Network?” There was humor behind the question mixed with true curiosity as he heard the old school game show mumbling in the background.

“It’s relaxing.” There was no defense in your voice as you said it, mug close to your face. “And it makes me laugh.”

“Relaxing and laughing on Thanksgiving. Not sure I’ve seen that combination in a while.” He was opening your dishwasher to drop the empty mug into it.

You raised your eyebrows at that knowing exactly what he meant and knowing it was 100% true.

“Hey, you wanna go with me somewhere?” Your eyes were looking at the time and seeing it was just a little past 12.

“Where? Everywhere’s closed?”

You had already moved to the other side of oyur kitchen island and were grabbing your coat off the back of the bar chair.

“Can you pack up like 6 containers from Carmy and like 3 of the containers you brought?” It took Richie a minute to understand what you said since you had been bent down slipping into your shoes.

Although confused, Richie did what you said, making sure the cannolis weren’t any of the containers he packed in the tote he had brought over. As you re-entered the kitchen, you peaked in the bag and nodded. Quickly you pulled out a ziploc and took one of the cannolis out and dropped it into the plastic before carefully placing it in the tote.

As the two of you hit the Chicago streets, there were a couple flurries of snow falling, nothing substantial that would stick, but it set a tone. Your one arm was holding onto the the tote back as your hand hid from the cold in your jacket pocket but your other hand moved to wrap around Richie’s arm.

The gesture made him get out of his head and turn to look down at you.

“You wanna tell me where we’re going?” He brought his arm in tighter against yours.

“You’ll see.”

It was all you were willing to give up as you began walking towards Millenium Park.

“Millenium Park after 12AM, sounds like a great time.” Richie was taking his free hand and reaching to grab his pack of cigarettes.

“It actually is.” You spoke with such conviction that it actually shocked Richie. You were so upset earlier and now you were speaking with a hint of hope in your voice.

The music you started to hear as you approached the infamous Chicago Bean filled your face with a smile. You lived in Chicago most of your life so hitting tourist spots like this wasn’t exactly a common occurrence but this was a tradition you kept for yourself and now were bringing Richie into it.

There was a street performer about 20 feet from them, the violin was loud and the acoustics were incredible as it echoed off the landmarks around them. The smile on the man’s face as he played was enough to tell a million stories. He was having fun, despite the cold, the snow, the fact it was a holiday and he was here performing, he was genuinely enjoying this.

“That’s Morgan.” You whispered to Richie like it was a high class secret. “He’s incredible.” You brought your other hand up to rest on his arm that was still holding your other one.

“He brings a crowd.” He was looking around at all the people that were standing around him.

“There’s more people every year.” You said it like a proud parent.

“Every year?” Richie asked, not taking his eyes off the performance.

There were a few minutes of silence as you debated how you were going to answer his question.

“I come here every year. One thanksgiving, I was out here looking for something and ended up coming across Morgan. I come here every year now. The crowd used to be like 5 people and look now.”

“That what the food is for?” Richie was smiling now understanding what the girl was up to.

Just as he spoke the words, the violin sound was cut and the crowd began clapping loudly. “I’m going to take a short break, be back in 5 minutes.” He waved and placed his violin down to take a sip of the water jug he had next to his stuff.

You approached the man and before you could even say anything, he was bellowing a deep hello to you. Following his hug he looked down at the food and shook his head. “You’re always over feeding me, kid.”

“Who doesn’t like leftovers?” You crossed your arms and stepped back slightly bumping into Richie. “Oh, Morgan this is Richie.” You grabbed Richie’s arm and stepped behind him slightly to introduce him.

“Nice to meet you, Richie.” Morgan spoke curiously.

‘Back at you man, you got a real talent, truly incredible.” He turned on that typical Richie charm.

“You humble me, dude. I’m just a Chicago kid tryna enjoy the holiday.” He waved him off.

“Did you get to see Sandra this year?” You spoke with hope in your tone.

“She had me over earlier today.” Morgan was grinning.

“Morgan, that's incredible! From just coffee last year, to thanksgiving this year!” You leaned forward and tapped his arm. “Guess you don’t need my food.” You teased him and went to jokingly grab the bag back but not before he leaned down and blocked you from it.

“Hey now, this is top of the line fine dining food you give me.”

“And I packed a homemade cannoli in there for you.” Richie was smirking at the whole interaction.

“See the man packed little ol me a homemade cannoli, don’t strip a man of a thanksgiving cannoli, now.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” With a step back you wrapped your arm around Richie’s.

Morgan looked down at it and back at the both of you with a wider smile now. “Hope y’all had a lovely Thanksgiving.”

“Think it just got a lot better.” Richie nodded at him and then looked down at you.

“We’ll let you finish your break, but I’m so happy about Sandra, seriously Morgan, that’s great news.” You went to give him one last hug.

“Happy to see you out here with someone this year, seems like you finally found what you were looking for.” He was talking at a volume only you could hear as he hugged you.

“Funny enough, Morgan. I wasn’t looking for it at all. Just happened.” You whispered back.

“The best things do.” He was clearly talking about your friendship, how it came to be out of a time where you weren’t expecting or looking for it all. “Happy Thanksgiving, kid.”

As you moved back into the crowd with Richie, he took the opportunity to link your arms back together as he asked you a question.

“Whose Sandra?”

“The woman who has his wife’s heart.”

The sentence was so heavy, the more thought you put into it, every scenario that it could have been felt more heartbreaking than the last.

His head snapped to you and you nodded. “His wife died from liver disease and she was an organ donor, so her heart went to Sandra. He’d been trying to find her for a while, finally did, at first they wrote letters, last year she met him for coffee, and this year she had him over.”

“That’s incredible.” Richie was in shock. “Why Thanksgiving? Or just because?” He was genuinely invested in the story now.

“Thanksgiving is the night his wife lost her life, but the night Sandra kept hers.” You explained the situation to Richie.

“Holy shit.” He brought his hand up to his face and wiped it down as the weight of it all sunk in.

“What’s he doing out here?” Richie frowned trying to piece that part of it together.

“He kind of lost everything when he lost his wife, his place, his job, his will to live I’d even go far enough to say.” You thought back on the earlier years of meeting Morgan, he was your father’s age, and clearly had experienced loss in his life. That was what bonded you, because while you were going through the biggest loss of your short teenage life at that time, you came across someone who knew what losing someone to alcohol felt like.

“That’s rough.” Richie nodded and before the conversation could really continue, the sound of the music filled the space again and the crowd moved in tighter. Richie and you stayed near the back and despite everything being fine between you two, you felt the tension from earlier coming back.

It was hard for you to talk about it, but Morgan’s words about finding what you were looking for were in your head and it made you realize, maybe you could open up a bit about it all.

One thanksgiving, I was out here looking for something and ended up coming across Morgan. I come here every year now.

That one thanksgiving, you were out here looking for your Dad, your drunken dad, you later found him at the bus stop across from The Beef. He didn’t see you, but you saw him, fully packed, despite his inebriated state, he had thought through leaving enough that he packed bags.

With a sigh, your arm squeezed tighter around Richie’s and you said 5 words that you hoped would be enough to explain to Richie why today was so hard for you without having to dive into so much detail.

“My dad left on Thanksgiving.”

#The Bear #The Bear FX #The Bear Fanfiction #The Bear fanfic #richie jerimovich #Richie Jerimovich x Reader #Richie Jerimovich Fanfiction #Richie Jerimovich fanfic #garbinge #my best friends cousin #my writing

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lilmarshie · 6 months ago

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Healing Winter | B. Barnes x Reader

A/N - Taking a little break from the Harry Potter fics with a Bucky Barnes fic. I hope that you enjoy! Don’t worry, more Harry Potter fics are coming soon.

You are a skilled therapist, assigned to Bucky Barnes, who is initially resistant to receiving any kind of therapy. Your first sessions are tense, with Bucky reluctant to open up about his past. No matter how you try to get him to reveal himself to you he doesn’t open up.

In your next couple of sessions, you resort to using different and unconventional techniques to get him to talk. You do this by using music from his past as well as, inviting him to share positive memories that he’s experienced. Bucky is less hesitant to reveal himself now and he starts to slowly open up as the sessions continue.

You share small, personal stories to create a safe space for Bucky to start talking. Bucky soon follows suit and begins to share fragmented memories of his time as the Winter Soldier. You help him begin to piece together these memories, providing clarity and understanding.

As the sessions progress, Bucky starts relying on you not just as a therapist but as a confidant. Your bond strengthens, and Bucky feels more comfortable revealing his deepest fears and regrets. You become closer as time goes on through these moments of vulnerability.

Bucky has a particularly difficult session causing him to shut down and have a small panic attack. You comfort him and help him through what he is experiencing. Bucky is comforted by your words and instantly calms down. He has grown feelings for you and has realized that you have helped him far more than he knows.

You and Bucky begin to interact outside of therapy sessions. These interactions are initially professional but gradually become more personal, leading to shared meals and casual conversations on days that you don’t have sessions.

You begin to introduce Bucky to activities that can help him cope with his trauma, such as meditation, art, or physical exercise. These activities become bonding experiences for both of you. Bucky begins to start to develop feelings for you. You struggle with the ethical implications of their relationship, as well as your own insecurities and fears.

One day during a particularly difficult sessions, you and Bucky have a misunderstanding about a way that he is feeling at the time. This causes a rift between you. This leads you to confront your feelings and the boundaries of your professional relationship to resolve the conflict.

You begin to share your own struggles and vulnerabilities, showing Bucky that healing is a mutual process. This deepens the emotional connection and trust between you and Bucky.

Bucky makes significant progress in his therapy, feeling more at peace with his past. You and Bucky decide to pursue a romantic relationship, acknowledging the challenges but committed to supporting each other regardless of the circumstances.

You and Bucky are now looking forward to a future where they continue to heal and grow together, both personally and as a couple. You are each other’s saving grace and now Bucky knows that even winter can be healed.

#lilmarshie #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes headcanon #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #marvel imagines #marvel one shot #bucky barnes

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finniestoncrane · 1 year ago

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Wearing In

General!Riddler x Fem!Reader, word count: 750 ok so technically this is sort of unnamed goon x reader, but rest assured eddie is sitting on a little seat watching and orchestrating everything 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! �� cw: cuckoldery kinda, free use a little bit, sexual instruction, it's hard to describe this lmao

Your partner was nameless of course. They all were these days. The staff turnover within the ranks of The Riddler's henchmen was far worse than any other gang or faction in Gotham. As far as notorious criminals went, he was by far the worst when it came to any semblance of humanity. His workers were merely tools to be used. No loyalty needed, because under threat of an elaborate death, they tended to do exactly as he told them to do. And his extensive banks of knowledge meant everyone they knew and loved were at risk alongside them, should they disappoint him.

Edward Nygma even found it beneath him to have to call out "you there" to whatever poor minion was closest to him. The notion of learning the names of the ill-fated fools on his roster, then, was a ridiculous one. Why should have have to learn something as useless as that when they didn't even come trained half the time.

Training. The bane of his existence. You expected that was why he wasn't wasting any of his own energy on training you. Not when he could command someone else to do the physical part himself, while he barked orders from a seat across from you. Legs crossed, fingers drumming slowly against his knee.

It really could have been any one of them, any number of goons who happened to be walking by him when he decided it was time to wear you in. This man in particular had just happened to be lucky, or unlucky, depending on how any of the parties involved were objectively looking at the situation they found themselves in. You considered yourself the latter, given that Edward had somehow managed to choose one of his larger men to train you up.

As you hissed in pain, pressing your eyes shut tight and staring to the ground, he hesitated a moment. Pulling his cock out of your stretched and sensitive cunt, you let out a small sigh of relief. This seemed to irritate Edward, as he caught your chin with the rounded edge of his cane. He pushed it up, letting your eyes find him as he returned the intense stare past his domino mask.

"Keep your head up, please. As much as I hate to admit it, any hint of pleasure during this exercise may bruise my ego, so I want to be sure you're not enjoying yourself."

As your eyes began to drive instinctively down, trying to avoid his intense gaze, he tapped your chin, a dull pain appearing and quickly dissipating, but enough to have you focused on him.

"He's here to break you in. To make sure you know what's to be expected from you. The pleasure, I assure you, will come much later. When you're finally good enough, practised enough, for me to bother with you."

Edward nodded towards the goon, who eased the head of his cock between your plump, swollen lips, your body tensing as he filled you up once more. Fingers scratching at the floor you knelt on, mouth opening in a silent scream as Edward pulled his cane back and continued to speak.

"I don't need something shiny and new. Something pretty and untouched. I need tried and tested. Provable. Worthy."

How much longer did you have to last though? You could feel, with the exertion, the embarrassment, the feeling of your partner's thick, large cock hitting your cervix as he made you fit around him. Surely now, you were suitably worn in?

"I need to know that I won't be wasting my time with something that isn't good enough for me. Do you think you're good enough for me yet?"

He didn't let you answer, interrupting whatever word you were about to say.

"Np, you're not. You're barely good enough for him, whatever his name is. So. Stay on your arms and legs and let him stretch you out and warm you up while I watch and make sure you're responding the right way."

Your eyes remained open, even past the intense heat in your stomach, the slight clouding of your vision as you prepared to hold back the climax that was about to wash over you.

"Maybe then, you'll get your reward."

He palmed himself, the tent at the front of his pants visible even from where you were, as you resigned yourself to yet more pounding at his command.

#finnie writes #riddler #the riddler #the riddler fanfic #riddler fanfic #riddler x reader #riddler x you #edward nygma #edward nigma #edward nashton #the riddler fanfiction

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kayena1 · 1 year ago

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Taglist: @dayyzlol @iheartalotofthings @eddiemunsonguitar @atokirina-tsuki @morganswan @lunamochii

Chosen|pt3

Lay’ra sat in the sand, the Sully couple did the same. They crossed their legs and Lay’ra instructed them to breathe deeply.

“No, no you are doing it wrong!” She smacked Jake’s chest. The girl was frustrated. They couldn’t do the simple exercise that she was showing them.

Jake and Neytiri were sitting on either side of her. So she could see and hear if they were breathing right.

“You have to breathe from here” she said placing her hand on his stomach.

“Not from here” She again placed her hand on his chest.

“The same goes for you to Neytiri” The girl said turning to the woman’s direction.

“You breathe from here” She said placing a hand on Neytiri’s stomach.

She placed a hand on Jake’s stomach and the other hand was placed on Neytiri’s.

“The way of water has no beginning and no end. Our hearts beat in the womb of the world. The sea is your home, before your birth and after your death. The sea gives and the sea takes.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, before opening them again.

“That is the way of water that you must learn” Lay’ra looked at the both of them before she stood up.

“We are done for today. We have been practicing for long enough rest” Lay’ra said before turning her back to the couple. Jake and Neytiri quickly got up and started following the girl.

“What is it that you want? We are done for today why follow me?” She asked frowning.

“We want to ask you so many things” Jake said, his voice breaking.

She ignored him and continued walking humming a song.

“Where did you learn this song?” Neytiri asked Lay’ra who huffed in response.

“My mother sang this song for me every time I had a nightmare, she would take me in her arms and cradled me like a baby.” Lay’ra smiled at the memory. Her hands clasped behind her back.

“She took me in, the first time she saw me she showed me nothing but love, warmth and affection” The girl looked up to the sky. And frowned.

“The star that appeared in the sky a year ago… was it the sky people?” Lay’ra asked in a shakily voice.

“Yes” Was all that Jake said. The girl looked down at her feet, her ears flat against her head. Before she turned to face both of them.

“Then why come here? You are Toruk Makto! Why did you run away? You fought the first time why can’t you fight the second?” Lay’ra asked him frustrated.

“We have a family that we want to protect.” Jake said sadly.

“Why? What are you so afraid of? Was it the past that was haunting you that came back?” The girl asked trying to understand the reason for their family coming to her home.

Jake tensed up at the last question and Lay’ra knew that that was it. She straightened her posture and looked at Neytiri’s who looked away.

“Was it the man that you betrayed? The man that Neytiri killed saving you in the firs war?” She clenched her fist.

Jake and Neytiri perked up at the mention of that man.

“I see… if you bring war to my home I will do whatever it takes to throw you out of it” The girl glared at them.

“Sister!” Lay’ra heard a shout coming from the back. When she turned around she saw 3 little girls running to her. Immediately a smile appeared on her face as she crouched down spreading her arms.

“Girls!” She shouted back. She let the girls fall in her arms. The children looked around 8 years old. Jake and Neytiri looked at her confused.

“These girls are my students, I teach these children” she smiled at the girls who got out of her embrace and took her arms.

“Sister come! Tsahik asked us to get you! It’s lunch time! Our mothers too are making food for us to eat in our marui.” The girls shouted happily pulling her forward. Lay’ra stood up from her crouching position letting the children pull her forward.

“Yes I’m coming” Lay’ra said rolling her eyes. Following the children.

Jake and Neytiri watched Lay’ra walk away, guilt was what they felt. They regretted neglecting their first born daughter. They regretted hurting her. They regretted all those things but what can be fixed now? Jake took Neytiri’s hand in his own and squeezed it a little bit to comfort her.

“It’s okay” Jake like Neytiri felt the pain in his heart. He didn’t realise what he did wrong for her to leave. Overtime he realised how cruel he was to his first born daughter, Neytiri to started to realise her mistakes. They were parents to 4 wonderful children and the demons for 1. They couldn’t forgive themselves, Mo’at couldn’t look at them without giving them a glare or a sharp look. Mo’at missed her oldest grandchild. That’s when the parents realised their mistakes.

The Omatikaya couple went to their marui to prepare lunch for their children and themselves.

Meanwhile Lay’ra was dragged across the village by her little students to her family’s marui. She saw her mother and beamed at her. The children let go of the girl and waved goodbye to her, then ran off to their own homes. Lay’ra came inside and her mother immediately stoped what she was doing. Ronal spread her arms for the girl who came to her mother. She sat on her tights and wrapped her legs around her mother’s torso. Her arms hugging the neck of her older woman. Lay’ra nuzzled her head in the crook of Ronal’s neck.

“It was exhausting.” The girl said. Lay’ra heard footsteps coming inside and turned her head to see her father and her siblings.

“What happened my child?” Tonowari asked as he sat next to Ronal. Her siblings following their father’s footsteps sat down on Ronal’s opposite side.

“Nothing” Ronal sensing that her daughter didn’t want to talk about anything that happened sent her husband a look that basically said ‘mind your own business’.

The family sat in a circle ready to eat, the thing was that Lay’ra didn’t let go of her mother, the girl wanted to be held for a while longer before she would have continue with her day. Her family didn’t complain, didn’t say or question it. Ronal picked up some fruits from the leaf that was supposed to be Lay’ra’s and brought the food to the girl’s mouth. The girl accepted the fruit slowly munching on it. When she finished the fruit she was given, her mother offered her another one. And she gladly took it.

It reminded Lay’ra of the days when she first came in to this village. She was a young girl who never experienced a taste of love from a mother or a father. The only source of love she knew was her grandmother and she was back at the Omaticaya clan while the girl was with Metkayina. Lay’ra remembers when she was crying day and night. If not crying sobbing silently. She didn’t eat or drink, at those times Ronal would step in. She would take the girl in to her arms, gently putting the little child on her legs. Ronal would feed the girl small pieces of fruit. That became their thing. The thing that only they would do.

The lunch went by quickly. It was time for the family to return to their duties. Lay’ra slowly stood up. She gave her mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek before going to her father who she also gave a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Come now Tsireya, Ao’nung we have a lesson with the Sully children.” The girl said to her siblings. Tsireya stood up and went to her older sister’s side. Lay’ra gently took the smaller girls hand in her own before she looked at Ao’nung.

“Are you coming Ao’nung?” Lay’ra said looking at the boy who groaned in annoyance.

“Fine I’m coming” He said before he stood up going to his sister’s side. Lay’ra placed her hand on his forearm before gently squeezing it.

“It’s okay yeah?” She said in a gentle tone.

“Yeah” Ao’nung replied with a nod. Lay’ra gave him a soft smile. She removed her hand from his arm and turned to her parents who were watching the whole thing with a relaxed smiles on their faces. They liked to see their children bond and become closer to each other.

“We will be going” The girl said to her parents who gave a nod in return. The children turned to leave before Tonowari spoke up.

“If you start feeling uncomfortable or bad return back home” He said to his children, mostly to Lay’ra.

The children paused before nodding their heads. Lay’ra understood that it was meant mostly for her. The three siblings continued walking until they reached the Sully marui. Lay’ra saw how they ate their meal laughing and smiling at each other. She felt a bit angry and annoyed but mostly sad.

Yes she found a new home. Yes she had a new clan and yes she finally found a family that loves her cherishes her and adores her, but deep in her heart she still has that hurtful question why wasn’t she enough? What wrongs did she do to be hated by them?

The girl shook her head clering those thoughts away. She pulled her sister behind her still holding her hand, Ao’nung was trailing behind them. Lay’ra knocked on the entrance frame of the marui trying to get the family’s attention which she successfully gained.

“Are your children ready for the breathing lessons?” The girl saw Jake’s and Neytiri’s smiles disappear. The couple gave her a nod. The children excitedly stood up.

“We are ready” Neteyam spoke up. Lo’ak nodded, Tuk and Kiri smiled.

“I’m glad that you are because it won’t be easy now come on let’s go” Lay’ra said smiling at the kids.

She took them to a place where they were surrounded by water. As they sat down Lay’ra spoke again.

“Today we will learn how to breathe, tomorrow we show you how to dive properly” The girl spoke confidently and smiled seeing the excited faces of the Omaticaya children.

“Let’s begin” She smiled.

———————————————————————

Thank you all for the positive comments I’m really happy you find joy in this story.

Part4

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