weirdo-fun

[weirdo-fun]

Amazing chapter yet again 👏 Can’t wait to find out what happens next! Please go support the author.

Among the Bullets

Chapter 2 Part 2

Summary: You're a transfer mechanic for a task force which you know nothing about, and while trying to figure out your standing with each of the members you begin to realize you may be over your head. (Evental romance, He just sucks at flirting, but he is trying bear with meee)

Warnings?: jealousy? Body descriptions, nothing really.

 With a defeated huff you set the tablet down, leaning back in the chair was that was worse for wear. The light from the screen being the only real light source of the room, the hours of searching for a file you knew would be under the most secure of networks left you with a file that was more crossed out than not. A file you, of all people, should have access to. Yet perhaps the other people that was on that team thought not, and some part of you agreed with that.

After anothe few hours toying away in the hangar you had told yourself it was high time for an actual break, so you had gone to the mess hall, spending the thirty minutes pulling apart what you thought was a roll and reading over the briefing file for the up coming operation. Seemed easy enough, although there were a few things that were crossed out, so you assumed that was on a need to know basis. Even with all of the black ink covering the words in the upcoming operation, it didn’t hold a light to the scribbled out words of the past- a past you were now trying to uncover for your sake of mind. 

The way that the captain had referenced this, that mission, as if he knew the details you hadn’t been given until you had blood on your hands- he had information you wouldn’t ever be given. And you had been there. You were stay on the slow moving fan above you, mind whirling with questions you had buried deep down, just as you were about to doze off into a light slumber a knock came to the door, heavy set of hands yet a soft knock- enough to startle you

“Hi!” 

 You blink to the change of light and see the kind looking girl in front of you, bit taller, holding a duffle bag like the one they had given you in her clutch. Her blonde hair neatly slicked back into a bun and her eyes giddy if not fatigued. When you see her you give her a little smile, “Can I help you?” Maybe that was a bit rude but she didn’t seem taken back by it. 

  “Um, the- the guy with the mask- like the halloween one?- He said I’ll be sleeping here.”

Oh. A roommate. Lovely. While you try to hide your ghost of a smile from her words while speaking about the lieutantle you look her up and down, clean clothes, ironed even, white blouse tucked into a clean pair of khakis, black riding boots. She…if it was able to say, was the exact opposite of you.  With a few moments you nod and open the door some more, rubbing your eyes. 

“You must be the mechanical engineer for the operation, I’m chemical engineering” She chirps in response and looks around, setting her bag on the sofa, which would be your bed as you would insist she take the actual bunk. Being a scientist would explain a lot of things, such as her apparence. To that you hum, and she noticed your uneasy expression from the doorway, “Louise. My name is Doctor Lousie Johnson.” ‘

“You actually say doctor?” That was what you said, which was most likely not the best thing to say but it was you had. Sure, techimcally you ahd your doctorate degree, but the idea of introducing yourself like that made you cringe. So as the silence crept, you shrugged, introducing yourself with a shake of the hand, “And technically I’m a mechanic for the operation.”

Louise tilted her head, carefully taking out the tablet she had been given, her touch delicate, “Ah. Well in the briefing document they said engineer.” Her eyes lit up as she looks back up to you, “Oh! On that note can I have access to your notes on-” 

  “Eh, Tink-” 

You spin on your heels as you hear the scotts voice interrupting your thoughts and the words Lousise was speaking, looking at him as he was half knocking on the door. He flashes a smile to Lousie, and then looks back to you, “Goin to the bar with Si and Kyle, you’re comin.” 

With a frown you retort, “I try not to drink the night before I have something important to do.” 

“Nows the bes time to drink,” He frowns to that, his eyebrows furrowing, “Si said to drag ya if needed, so gimme y’er arm.” 

  You tilt your head with an exasperated look and turn your head as Louise bites back a little laugh, the woman quieting as you give her a glare, her hand clasped over her mouth and eyes scrunched up in laughter. Without missing a beat you look back to the man, “I’m not going to the bar, Sergeant.” 

 You sit in the booth, sipping the shirley temple as you read over the document for the thousanth time. It wasn’t anything special, the group was mostly sitting at the bar, chatting away with the doctor- who was aptly very quickly nicknamed ‘Doc’ You didn’t quite care for bars, however everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves- at least everyone expect for the Lieutentant, who somewhat mimicked your own posture but at the bar top. It wasn’t as if you were paying attention though, because that would be crazy, why on earth would you be watching- 

  About seventy percent of your attention was on the group you had isolated yourself from, how they laughed, how Lousie just clicked. It was idootic, you would most likely never see these men again in your life, nor her, after this operation, yet here you were feeling some sort of elementary school rejection. You were on a job, you were getting paid a decent chunk of money for this, and not to mention there were about a billion other factors which motivated your actions. With another sip of the drink you look away and to your tablet again, wiping off the oil smudge you had been too lazy to care about till then. 

  “Ya know its not safe for a lady to be out here alone,” a voice snapped you out of your trance, yet ther voice had no real body, you figured out it was coming from the person one booth over. 

  A quick glance back to the group, who were laughing with their backs to you, you bring your lips to your drink, speaking slowly and hushed, “You can say Hi like a normal person, Jack.” 

 A gruff laugh, and while you can’t see his face the rain covered grey hoodie was enough to confirm it was him- after all, you bought him that hoodie a few moments go by and you can hear him take a long swig of what you would guess was rum, “They want an update.” 

A long silence and you take a breath, hands looping around the glass as you think, “Can’t give them one yet, they haven’t told me anything…important, no location, time, nothing, they told me to be ready for anything and to dress warm.” You look around and then clear your throat, “They did ask if I was comfortable with 4320s.” 

“The tracktor?” He almost aughed, and for a spilt second you could almost see his smile before you replied. 

“Urals 4320s, dumbass.” You snipped back playfully, and look down to your glass, getting lost in thought for the millionth of a second, and when you looked up you noticed the luetiant looking at you, eyes narrowed, with a wary gulp you wave. 

Somehow, you had been given the task of dragging the ‘somewhat’ buzzed doctor back to your room, with a arm under her, aggravatingly small, torso you lead her through the hangar. Listening to the ‘buzzed’ words as she spoke, now, you wouldn’t lie- she seemed like a sweet girl, kind, and very smart in her field- if not a bit dense socially, most likely the only thing you both had in common. Yet there was something that rubbed you the wrong way, and perhaps it was your one jealousy. 

   She was what your parents wanted for you, perfect hair, perfect body, clothes, smile, eyes, makeup, all of it, she reeked of perfection. The worst part was that you couldn’t be upset at her for it, she was too kind. “I think- I think they’re nice.” 

   “Mmmhm,” You nod slowly as you kick the door to the room open, and that had been your go to response to anything the woman had to say, a quick mmhm and a nod, or maybe just a little lifeless laugh that would trigger her own chaotic giggles. Now, this was technically a task you had taken upon yourself, the boys had offered and you knew deep down they wouldn’t have done anything- but the ‘girl code’ was ingrained into your blood. So, with a roll of the eyes you took her back to the room, which now left you there.

     “The scary one is-is funny,” She stumbles out as you sit her down on the bunk, a hand on the top of the head to keep her from hitting her head, her eyes going over your emotionless expression, and she hums, “But he was looking at you.” 

   “You’re drunk, shut up.” You snip and then kneel down, taking off the boots with tough pulls which would get you a grumble and a scold, that you couldn’t care enough about. It took about ten minutes of standing by the bed and shoving her back down before she finally relented and stayed down, so you hum once she was out. So you push yourself up to stand, walking over to the desk, grabbing your bag and pulling out the tablet. 

The faint light in the bottom of it catching your eye, so you frown and grab the flip phone, double checking the door was locked as you lean against it, looking over the message. 

   Mission is in Poland- dress warm. Be safe. 

The contact name stung in your mind, Jackson. Unshokcing that they would have him be your contact, nonetheless, made your blood run cold every time you thought of him, much less when you spoke to him less than two hours before. 

     You too, okay?

 You stood outside the office for a solid few moments after you knocked before you heard the voice telling you to come in, and just as you remembered it was dimly lit, and the harsh smell of the smoke hung in the air. With an exaggerated clear of the throat you look to the captain, “Good morning, Sir.” 

     He motions for you to sit down, which you dismiss the offer with a shake of the head, “What do I owe the pleasure?” 

     “I have a few questions.”

The man seemed to almost expect this and he nods, “About the doctor.” 

   “Why a chemical engineer? From my experience-” 

“This isn’t about your experience. You were chosen for this operation, that should tell you everything you need to know, solider.” 

You stare at the captain for a long moment, the words rubbing you the wrong way, they way he was relaxed making your blood boil,  “I am not a solider. I will never be a solider and I will not be treated as such, I am consult and I demand some information on this operation aside from the vests I will be wearing and the truck I am expected to ride on. A chemical engineer and a mechanical one all in one op leads me to the assumption that is like operation that was lead on March 20th 2018 and I will need that information if you expect me to proceed.” 

Price stayed quiet as you spoke, seeming to take your words with a shaker of salt, which he prayed you would be thankful for, “You have all the information you need, as does Doctor Johnson.” 

   With a scoff you go on, “With all due repsect-”

“That will be all.” He interrupted you, his gaze hard and he holds out his arm for the door, “You are dismissed.” 

  “Did you get an’ sleep?” 

The voice snapped you out of your train of thought, zipping up your bag and you look up to the lieutant, giving him a brief laugh. Maybe to ease your own nerves, sure everything you were about to do made your blood run cold but the sight of a man who might as well just be a ghost at that point seemed to do nothing for them. He lived up to the callsign. It was four hours before you would go on the transport, for the operation to actually begin, and you were getting all of the things you thought you would need- however they didn’t tell you what you would need, so you were going in blind. 

   “Enough, sir.” You respond with an equally amount of lackluster. 

He looked you up and down, the uniform they had given you to wear was ironed and clean- unlike what you would normally wear. “You’ll be fine, yeah?” 

    With a quick glance up to him you hum, and you look around, eyes landing on Lousie as she chatted up Johnny and Kyle and you look to the Lieutant, “With all due respect I need to know why we need a chemist. I need to know what I’m walking into.” It wasn’t meant to sound so harsh, but the words spilled out and it was much too late to turn back. “Last time I had a chemist on my op-” 

    “Take it up with the Captain.” 

“I tried. He didn’t give me a straight answer.”

    The lieutenant looked down at you, the mask seeming a bit more intimidating up close, the black paint smuged around his eyes and the thread he used seeming to be tight to the cloth. He seemed to be mentally debating something, ot jdudging you, you couldn’t figure out which, and you didn’t quite want to. So with a grunt he picked up your bag without warning and began to walk to the transport. 

   “Hey???” You yell after him, a bit more confused than anything, catching the attention of the rest of the group from the other side of the hangar, “Thats mine?!”

Annnnyway that’s it! <33 comments and all that jazz mean a lot to me!!

#chaosandmarigolds #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #call of duty

[weirdo-fun]

Among The Bullets

Chapter 2 part 1

Summary: You're a transfer mechanic for a task force which you know nothing about, and while trying to figure out your standing with each of the members you begin to realize you may be over your head. (Evental romance, He just sucks at flirting)

 It had been a solid twenty hours of continuous work, about four energy drinks and two coffees, and three ten-minute naps, you finished round one of the daily tasks, or at the very least you had caught up. Yet, as you slowly move to sit back down on your workbench, you find yourself feeling a bit worse for wear, the sun had already come up and then it had set all over again, so it…made sense that you were tired, or at least you thought it did, or maybe you thought you would drop dead if you kept going or maybe a lot of things but you knew the room was beginning to spin and you knew you had a few more tasks but those could wait another ten minutes. 

Just…a ten minute nap. 

You deserved that at the very least, you had been working for the past twenty-something hours and had been awake for the past fifty- how weren’t dead was beyond you and how you hadn’t dropped was also beyond you. So as you drop your tool into the bag from your seated position you blink to keep the room from spinning.

Then you would be able to crawl back into bed and fall into a deep sleep for a good eight hours, after a shower, or maybe not, you weren’t sure but either way, you grumble as you sit down and rest your head down onto the bench, your tote back rolled up to be more comfortable than your hands. Ten minutes.

“Ho’ long bonnie been out?” 

“Since I got here.” 

Johnny looks at Kyle, “Tha’ been wha? Four hours?” 

With a slight nod, Kyle sat back on the crate he used as a makeshift chair after he had been told to get you so they could start going over the basic procedures needed for the mission, he had a few other plans that included breakfast. yet when he didn’t find you where he had thought you would've been he wandered to the hangar, still in the same clothes you were wearing two days ago. So Kyle shrugs, “Thinkin she was here since last night.” 

Johnny leans over to get a good look at your face, scrunched up as it lay on the bundled-up bag and he looks to Kyle again, moving a step or so away so the noise wouldn’t wake you. Yet that seemed to not matter because you were sound asleep amid a very loud and busy garage, so his efforts, however kind, were useless and pointless. So, they go on about their business, talking for a long bit before Simon finds his way over to them, seeming to be confused because this is not where they would usually be, but Johnny just motions to your very asleep form as he sits there.

Simon looks between his teammates and then you, motioning the tablet to you as he speaks to Johnny, “Ho’ long?” 

“A while.” Kyle responded with a dull shrug. 

With that being said Simon walked over to you and lightly nudged your boot with his, and when that only got a somewhat annoyed mumble he moved to touch your shoulder, hesitantly at that, almost as if he were to touch you it would shatter something. So, after a millisecond of faltering, he lay in hand on your back. He figured it must be a third thing because if he had some random person touch him while he was asleep (which he would never do in a public space) he would’ve quite literally tried to kill the person. You, however, just grumbles moving your head to lay on the other side. He doesn’t know what to do, so he moves his thumb over your spine and speaks, “Wake up.” 

To say a dump of adrenaline was shot into your blood would be an understatement because every muscle and every ounce of cognitive thought was all of sudden turned to a hundred and ten and you shoot up to stand- almost tripping over your bench twice as you got your footing and your vision unblurred. “Sir.” Your words were to catch yourself up and you mindlessly rub your eyes as you adjust to the light, and you look to the other two men, giving them a meek smile as well, “Sirs.”

 “I was jus, ya know…taking a little nap-just a little nap…” You trail off, avoiding the gaze of the masked man who stood a bit too close to you for your comfort, discarding how his hand was extended as if you were about to be very dramatic which you weren’t. Then you notice that the truck you had been working on was long gone, and your blood runs cold, “Wh..” 

   You walk past him and then go to the spot where the truck had been, “Where this?” 

 Their confused stares were words enough and your face contorted to a disgruntled frown, and you motioned to the stained cement ground, “The truck?? The-...the processing number was G839F09. Where did it go??”

“Why do you know the processing number?” Kyle mainly asked for himself and he looked down at the MRE he had been very slowly eating for the past ten or so minutes, and when he looked up he saw you had moved back to the work desk- having the guts to shove Simon to the side and grab the tablet. Seemingly to look for something. 

There was a silence before you let out a huff of air and placed your hand on your chest, “Oh thank god, I thought I-” You look up to still see them very quizzically staring at you and you laugh off the heat in your face, “I-uh, thought I forgot to the drums, I-heh- sleepy me is very detail oriented apparently.” There was another silence, and you then turned around and set the tablet down, letting your heart try and slow the pace it was currently drumming at, and then nodded with a spin of the heel, “Anyway…Where can a girl get something to eat around here?”

“After the briefing,” Simon interjected, causing your head to turn upward to see him, a frown appearing on the faint smile that had managed to weasel its way onto your lips he then motioned to the tablet you had just set down, “Then you’ll eat.”

To that Johnny and Kyle move to stand up, as they were both waiting for this supposed briefing you had just now been hearing about and you try to deny that, following after them as you ramble on about all of the things you need to get done. How the list you had been given was never ending and all the time you had was to eat and maybe nap, however, Simon’s reply was always ‘It’ll be only a minute’ or just a short and gruff laugh as if your concerns were humorous to him. 

Your rambling fell quiet when you entered the room, darkened and silent- a sudden contrast to the hallway you had just been in, stopping in the doorway only to feel the same hand that had awoken you to find the spot in between your shoulder blades; nudging you forward until you were fully out of his way. It was just light enough that you could make out the people, the large screen of what you thought was a TV-like monitor. 

Somehow you had found yourself tucked away in the very back, within the room there were about twenty or so people so you blended among the crowd. Within that, you had found it very easy to simply zone out, somewhat listening to whatever general and whatever they had to say, however, they were saying things you had already read- risky mission, yadda yadda, the part that did catch your attention was the transportation they were choosing to use. 

“That’s a horrible idea, oh my god, that’s so funny how bad of an idea that is,” Is what you thought you were simply thinking however as the sound of rustling and the current speaker, a woman you had met before- Lassie or something you couldn’t remember- looking to you. Your heart fell to your stomach you adjusted the way you were leaning back on the plastic chair, clearing your throat, motioning to the woman, “I…didn’t mean to say that out loud. I am so sorry I-.. please, go on. Please.”

“No, please, you’re our consult. Consult us.” She remarked back motioning you up with her hand and she must have found your terrified stare humorous because a small smile appeared on the expression. However, even though you didn’t want to, you slowly stood and walked to the front. 

With each hand griping the other tight enough to cut off air circulation you speak slowly, “I mean…These would be fine- they’d be fine until you ran out of coolant and you’re now in the middle of enemy terrorists and you’re stuck and then you’d all be dead so I mean…Yeah, they’d be fine.”

A short silence. “What would you recommend?” “Oh, these by far- best mileage and whatnot, you would just need to bring about two gallons of coolant.” You shrug in reply, “However if you wanted a continuous ride with a somewhat similar build I would go with the…the…Q68- yeah, those would be best.” 

A nod, “You got it.” 

“Huh?” No one listened to your words as the woman moved on to the next topic, and so you quickly moved to walk over back to your table and sit back down, shrinking down into the chair.

…

Simon looked back at you for a moment before mumbling, “Bold.” 

    “Bold?” Johnny whispered in reply, “Bonnie up and up tol’ her to shu’t it,”

(Annnnnyway that’s it! Lemme know your thoughts! <33)

[weirdo-fun]

Among The Bullets

Chapter One, Part 2.

Summary: You're a transfer mechanic for a task force which you know nothing about, and while trying to figure out your standing with each of the members you begin to realize you may be over your head. (Evental romance, bear with me. Simon doesn’t know how to flirt but he’s trying ok??)

On your schedule, which you were fully planning on ditching once you got your footing, you had a meeting with the Captain of the team before dinner. Made sense in your mind, however, what didn’t make sense was how it didn’t tell you where to meet him- you assumed his office? Did he have an office? How would find said office within the labyrinth of rooms?  So, once again you found yourself very awkwardly standing alone within the bustling crowd, head bowed you looked over the tablet for any missing information. 

You still hadn’t eaten, your eyes were pleading for a moment of closure and your muscles ached for something other than a caffeine-dense drink; yet, there were things that needed to get done and once those things were done would be able to go on with your life. So, you ignored the lightheaded feeling, the grumbling of your stomach, and the throbbing headache, and was snapped back into reality by someone nudging your boot- in all fairness you knew it was innocent but you, with the past forty or so hours being a blur, were already high strung so with a spin on the heel you turned to face the person, fully prepared to bite their head off and tell them to watch where they were going. 

“For fucks sake man, can’t you’ fuckin-” Your words died on your tongue as you saw another one of the team members (who you weren’t technically supposed to know who they were, but twenty minutes alone in a military room full of computers and a lot of old guys with generic passwords of their wives names seemed too easy) if you remembered correctly this ones name was John or something, as was the Captains, but you made a mental note because this one had a nickname you found hilarious: Soap. A sergeant, above you nonetheless, only taller than you by two or so inches, but could throw your weight around. 

Well. If this was rock bottom then you would certainly take the chance to start crawling up, so you nod hello and once again hold out for him to take, this time (unlike the very mean Lieutant Riley) he took it. A firm grip as you spoke, introducing yourself, and then you clear your throat as you pull your hand away. He seemed nice, seeming to just read you while you began to ramble, “I’m a consult for the next assignment, from the engineering and mechanics…department or…something, sorry-um, I am looking for a Captain John Price, do you happen-”

“Oi, the Cap’n of’ic is-” 

“Oh my God.” The words just spilled from your mouth and if you had zero self-control you would've slapped your hand over your mouth to shut yourself up, but you did so you then began to explain your sudden interruption as he stared at you, “I- You- your voice-I just-I, I wasn’t expect-” His eyes were wide as you went on and you gulp down your embarrassment and motion to him,  “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry- You, you were saying?”

The soldier seemed to be debating if he wanted to be offended or not but he ultimately let out a laugh, “Funny, ‘er funny, bonnie. Cm’on ‘ll take ya.” 

Funny? Well, you would take funny over having another military man out for your blood, so with a small nod you follow beside him, the silence between you both seemed to be deafening until he then spoke, a small nudge to your arm (it almost sent you to the ground but you’re praying that he didn’t notice that part). 

“Gotta be nice to th’ ol’ man, got-chit?” 

You blink a few times to let the words soak in and with a sharp breath you laugh briefly, “I…he’s thirty 37? I highly doubt that’s old, well if he’s old I’m middle-aged-.” 

John gave you a look and then spoke, “Ho’ you know tha?” 

Oh, again with the information…. “Educated guess?” 

“Off what?” 

“The..” can’t say pictures, definitely can’t see you saw all of their medical files during your twenty-minute deep dive, it would be a lie to see you’ve met the man before so you just motion around vaguely, “Vibes. Mmhm, the vibes, just…I knew. From….” He was just watching you, it made your stomach turn and somehow you couldn’t keep your mouth shut, “The vibes.”

John nodded and then knocked on the door, shoving his hands in his pockets and when the door opened he looked to the Captain, “You foun’ us a witch.”

“No-” You try to correct the sergeant but he turns and begins to walk away from you, leaving you with what was going to be your death because now you have a Lieutenant who just hated your guts for no reason and now you have a sergeant who thinks you're a witch. Oh the stories you would be going home with, so you take a breath and straighten your posture, looking at the captain. 

From what you read up on Captain John Price you knew about two things: one, he got his rank for a good reason, and two: he likes smoking (his medical files said so) However, when you looked up at him and held out your hand for him to shake he looked bit too nice for your liking, he gave the impression of an older brother, someone nice, as nice as any person can be within the military- which would be a staggering change of pace from the other people you’ve met thus far, so with a shining smile and shake of the hand your introduce yourself and follow him into the office. 

“Forgive Johnny,” Price begins and motions for you to sit down in one of the not-so-comfortable-looking chairs across from his desk, “He’s…well, you see. He means well.” 

“Ah,” You fake understanding and nod as you obey and sit down, hands neatly placed in your lap and your eyes quickly scan the area around you,  “No, yeah, Sergeant MacTavish seem-” 

“Mmm?” 

Your gaze snaps back to the Captain, panic rushing your bloodstream as you realize you did it again, the third time in the past two hours. So you choose to play dumb, pulling your lips together in a line and tiling your head, praying that your doe eyes were believable (they were, just not to him, and certainly not at that moment)  “Yes, sir?” 

There seemed to be a moment of silence before Price motioned to the tablet that sat in your grasp, “Basic information you’ll need will be downloaded at 22 hundred, no need to break any laws for names.” 

A small gulp and you look down at the tablet which you had spent the last ten minutes fiddling with, the edges of the leather cover already frayed, “I see, is there-” 

“The mechanic on base was killed a few days back, which is why you were picked up early. You’ll also receive his daily tasks and his reports, work is a bit clogged so I suggest you geta jump onit..”

As much as you tried to keep your expression unfazed by the news that the person who used to have your job is now dead, the way your eyes went slightly wide was a good indicator and you cleared your throat a sound coming from you being more like a nervous laugh, “Th…The head mechanic? How many-” 

“Just you.” 

What. There had to be at least a hundred trucks in that garage and then the planes upon that, the helicopters, all on one person? You had to hold back an audible laugh as you tried to read his expression because that had to be a joke. It had to be a joke. Sure, you were the best of your trade that even the military wanted to trade you for other things to help other world militaries and yeah you were good at what you did but you…a sum of 178 vehicles? That would be a stretch, and that was only if it was basic maintenance- not war-run vehicles that were sure to have a plethora of things wrong with them. 

When you realize he was dead serious your face falls from the polite half-smile you had and into one of mild annoyance, scoffing, “You do realize I’m not a superhero right? Can’t multiply myself?”

Price seemed entertained by your snippy words returning with a stern nod and his words harsher, he knew you didn’t understand ranks or anything along that besides a very basic ‘be polite’ standpoint, after all, you essitantally worked for yourself for the majority of your life and any person who held a higher rank most like respected you so…he might as well go a bit easy on you, yet it didn’t stop his tone being bitter, “Be respectful, and I assumed so.”

Okay, you didn’t mean to be disrespectful, so that was on you You direct your gaze to your lap and let out a huff of air, “I apologize, sir. However, I am just one person there is no earthly way I can complete what I assume to be a list of daily tasks on over seven hundred vehicles within a twenty-four-hour frame, if I had a second pair then perhaps, I am fully aware of my limits and this is beyond them. I can maybe complete a third of what you expect me to do within a twenty-four-hour window, much less if you expect me to keep to a twelve-hour shift…sir.” 

A stiff silence followed by a gruff laugh, nudging a sheet of paper over to you, and by the look on his face he could tell the memory attached to it was less than pleasant, “Good communicator, they had that underlined in your file. Along with that they had your mission from Snezhihnsk. You were able to reverse engineer twenty-four foreign trucks within ten minutes, and from what the General said is true…those things were no more than scrap metal.”  

It would be a lie if you didn’t remember that day, it would be a lie if you wished you could forget it as well. Barely twenty, new to the field, new to everything- you were still in college, yet you had been picked up from your dorm and shipped to Russia, being told that you would go with these soldiers and that your own job was to take a piece of a machine they needed to be demolished. Needless to say, that mission went sideways, found some insane laboratory, and saved the inmates, or that's what you like to believe…After you fixed the trucks there was a bombing and everything else was a blur. You preferred to not think about that day, and you hope he would catch onto that. 

“Adrenaline makes the body do some pretty insane things, sir.”

“Then I suggest you find a way to get a dose of it, the list of tasks and maintenance requests are already on the tablet.” He watched you nod and move to stand up however, he preferred to end the meeting with you note being salty about everything so he chose to speak again, “How do you like the barracks, don’t mind sharin do ya?”

Your breath catches in your throat and you look to the captain, confused by the words, you had been given your own room, well more like an office, but it had a sofa bed. So you tilt your head, “Lieutenant Riley took me to a room, said that’s where I would be staying.” 

Price processed the words for a moment, “37A?”

You falter for a moment as you try and remember the room number as you move to stand facing him, “Yes, sir.” 

“I see, my mistake then,” It wasn’t, he knew what the room used to be and more importantly who it was. “Thought it was still used as office.” 

A small pause and then you nod your head, “I better go get started.” 

“Dismissed.”

; 

“And…why haven’t I seen her? I wanna see her.” Kyle questioned Johnny as he followed him as they walked to the table, nice and tucked away in the corner of the mess hall. Of course, he was the last one who heard of the new consult, and it being a female piqued his interest all the more, it was a rare day when they would see female soldiers on this base, so he was especially interested in seeing how a civilian would fit in. However, Johnny was giving him vague words like ‘she’s nice’ or ‘I like her jus’ fine’ meanwhile Simon seemed to just be staring at the door, waiting for something. 

Johnny flashes Kyle a beaming smile and sits down, looking over the tray of food which he didn’t truly find appealing but it would be alright he supposed, “An’ you will, L.T said she’ gunna join us for dinner.” 

To that news Kyle frowned even more and grabbed his cup, “Ghost met her to? How is that fair?”

“Eh!” Johnny snipped back at his buddy, “I foun’ her lookin loss as a pup, L.T was ‘er welcome, maybe if ya did ‘er job ‘stead of holin up ya woulda gotten ta’ see ‘er.” 

Kyle looked at Simon and then back to Johnny, waiting for one of them to say that was a joke and it was actually the other way around because if Simon welcomed the consult then it would be reasonable to assume they wouldn’t actually have a consult and that the person had run away, he would have. Well…no, he would’ve stayed to spite him, either way, he wouldn’t be shocked if the next morning they would have some other mechanic wandering the halls. So, after a few moments of silence and neither of them broke into laughter over the joke he let his mouth go agape, “You’re fuckin with me, Ghost was the welcome wagon. Scared shitless is what she was!” 

Among other things they were pretending didn’t happen Kyle added that he pretended to not notice Simon’s glare over to him on the remark and then sat up straight. Simon looks down at his watch and then makes a mental note that you must just be late to everything, because it was twenty after what he had told you- or rather your schedule- to be there for dinner, and he wasn’t exactly in the mood to wait around. Well, either you were late for everything or you had aptly passed out as soon as he left you- yet that would go along with Johnny’s claim that he had found you standing in some obscure spot, making fun of his accent, and then following him to Price’s office. So maybe you went to sleep after that? 

Either way, he wanted to be angry with you for that, it was unprofessional and bluntly very rude, but you did loot tried when he saw you get off the carrier, and you seemed worn slick just by the way you held yourself, eyes with dark circles and your body moved with each breath. You needed rest, so a small part of him seemed to be content with that notion, if not pleased- purely because the mission needed your undivided attention and he did not have time to catch you up on briefings and help you in more ways than what he has to do. No other reason. 

Conversation seemed to die down as minutes wore on and after about fifteen more Simon had resigned to his original assumption, you had fallen asleep and so that meant he would have to go to his-your room and wake you up. So without a word being spoken to Johnny or Kyle he stands up and walks to the room, which was only about two or so minutes, and it would’ve been less if some stupid idiot of a rookie had gotten out of his way in a timely manner. So, when he did reach the room he knocked on the door, waited for a few moments, and then tried again, this time being greeted by you peeking out from behind the door and then flashing a smile up at him. 

“Lieutenant Riley! I’m sorry about dinner, I had to come back here after my meeting with the captain and I needed to change into-” Your words falter off as you open the door more and vaguely motion to the ruined pair of cargos and black teeshirt (black so no one would see the mess of stains on it),  in your hand you held a five-hour energy shot and in the other an energy drink you found within a vending machine somewhere, “This. Is…Is there something you need help with?” 

It took him a millionth of a second to realize what you were doing, and he shakes his head, “You ‘ere late.” That wasn’t enough because you just nodded and then picked up a small tote bag, filled with what he assumed to be tools judging by the sound- which raised the question of why you didn’t have toolbox but he was going to leave that be for the moment and he…for some reason, found himself speaking again, stepping aside so you can walk out of the room as he did, “Ya met Johnny.” 

With a bite of the tongue, you look up at the Lieutenant as you walk down the hallway and to the garage, tablet sprayed across your hand and the list pulled up for a refresher, so as you walk you nod, “Yessir, he seems very nice.” Simon narrowed his gaze on the ground for a moment as he thought about what you said, which did align to some degree with what he knew about Johnny but not quite right, so he looked at you, “Is that so?” 

“Oh, no, he’s…very pleasant.” You mutter out, eyes going across the hangar to spot what you assumed to be the mechanic's workbench, tucked away in a neat corner, and an assortment of tools and places for things to be placed, as well as the control panel for the garage doors, so you pick up your speed. Finishing off the remainder of the energy drink and tossing it in the trash can as you set your bag down. Staring at the list that shined up at you the cursed tablet as you ran your hands down your face, stretching the skin with a grumble. 

For the time you started at the list, you seemed to forget the Lieutenant was nearby, and when you did finally remember you spun around, leaning against the bench and crossing your arms, blinking the fatigue away from your eyes and plastering a faux smile on your lips, “Again, Lieutenant Riley, what can I do for you?’ 

“What do ya on ‘yer hands?” 

“Checkups.” You chirp, and then to his eyes narrowing from the hidden holes of the mask you go on, “Routine maintenance, plus some since the last is…dead.” 

“Mm, Rusty, poor fellow.”

A stifled laugh and then you bring your hand to your mouth to keep yourself from laughing, it wasn’t that funny it wasn’t funny at all actually and you felt like a horrible human for even chuckling, but you were exhausted and- “Rusty?” You take a deep breath to keep your laughter at bay and you gulp down, “Your mechanic's name was ‘Rusty’??” 

“It was Robert actually.” 

You did your best to stop laughing and gulp down the remainder of the giggles that threatened to interrupt your words and you cross your arms tightly over your chest again, “Mmmm, poor Robert.” 

“Quite. Well, ‘ll leave ya to it.” 

Odd man, you mentally quipped to yourself and then watched him walk off, not waiting too long before turning back to the workbench, within the next forty-eight hours you had to perform eighty-nine maintenance checkups, seven of which as ‘odd sounds’ coming from them and sixteen others who had ‘severe shell damage which affects the ability to steer’. Then you had to get working on the jets- less of your forte but you knew enough to handle yourself and then the helicopters, which again was less than you commonplace but you were able to get the job done.It was going to be a very long time. 

However, you then spent two hours figuring out where everything was, how to get the trucks there for you to work on and then how on earth this Rusty man had his files and tools organized, it was all like a hen house, everything everywhere. So, at the moment when the sun began to set you were pushing a crate across the garage, it was filled with parts, and for some reason, the idiot thought it was a good idea for it to be where all of the plane tools were when they were car parts but… You were trying to refrain from mentally scolding a dead man. 

The crate has at least two hundred pounds of metal so when you got it to the spot you wanted you slumped to the ground heaving for air and leaning your head against the wooden box, waiting for a long moment before you let yourself close your eyes for a moment, and it was truly only a moment because you opened them when you heard someone stands in front of you. With a small breath you crane your neck up to see the person, another solider, another person on the team, so you push yourself up to stand as you introduce yourself, once again, “Hi, I’m sorry, resting my eyes- can I help you S-” 

No, don’t make the same mistake again so you end up clearing your throat, the man giving you a sweet smile,  as he let your hand,  “Gaz.” 

That’s not his name, his nickname, yes so you had to bite back your urge to correct him on his own name, so with a clear of the throat you straightened your posture, “Nice to meet you, can I do anything for you?”

“No, no, just wanted to make an’ introduction.” Kyle spoke as he took a short step away and then motioned to the newly reorganized space, “Nesting?”

With a glare, you stifle a laugh and shrug your shoulders, “No. Just…if you do a job, do it to the best of your abilities, you know?” 

Kyle nods as if not believing a word you said, “Gotcha. Well, I wanted to say hi and make sure you weren’t too shaken up by Ghost.” 

It took you a moment of dumbly staring at an obscure tool as you tried to figure out who he was talking about when it clicked, you looked to the sergeant, “Liuetant Riley! Uh,” you laugh and run a hand through your hair, leaving it on the nape of your neck for a moment, “He…he’s a little scary sure, but he seems kind.” A lie through the skin of your teeth, the Lieutenant somewhat terrified you, and he did not seem kind if anything he seemed beyond condescending to everything you did thus far.

“Mmm,” Kyle seemed to not believe your words again and then patted your shoulder, “Well, goodnight, girly.” 

That triggered something, and it made you a bit sick that it did but blood ran hot for a second. You quickly bite back by saying your name, full name and everything, not leaving out the middle and making sure the last held a nice dose of venom to it, making the sergeant turn around to face you with a confused look on his expression. So you say your name again, “That’s my name, not ‘girly’ not ‘miss’, not ‘kiddo’ not ‘lass’ not ‘bonnie’ or whatever the fuck he called me, my name.” 

There was a stiff silence and you let out a huff of air, sighing, drooping your shoulders, “Oh god, I’m sorry, I’m sorry- I’m tired, I…shouldn’t have snapped at you, you…you’ve been nothing but kind, I-” 

Kyle says your name to tell you to shush up, “I apologize, you have a name, I’ll be sure to use it.”

A small smile appears on your lips and you nod, “Thank you, sir.” 

“Don’t…no, don’t call me that, Gaz, call me Gaz.” 

You laugh at his return and put your hands in your pockets, “Kay, you call me by my name and I call you by yours, that sounds like a pretty fair deal to me.” With a smile still on your expression you say your goodnights and then stand still for a moment, looking down at your boots as you think, this Gaz character was actually pleasant, he seemed nice to where you wouldn’t have to lie when asked about him. 

After a few minutes you turn around and walk back to the workbench, everything as you put it, tablet turned off but leaning against an out-of-use carburetor and everything seems just so. To the sight you were content, because that meant you could get started on the mountain of tasks you had lined up, and you looked over the scene again, grabbing your gloves but faltering when you saw the flipphone that had been sitting beneath it. 

They had made such a point to take your phone, ensuring no outside contact.

So you look around the hangar again, yet, because of the time there is close to no one there, you even peek out the door into the darkness of the airfield. Yet again, nothing. 

You stare at the piece of technology for a moment and it then begins to buzz, but only twice, indicating you got a message- well not you, but the phone did.

Hesitantly you reach to grab it, flipping it open, being met with a simple message- 

Awaiting orders, prepared to receive? 

Another look around the hangar and you quickly type a response.

Yes.

(Comments and feedback make my day! Thank you for reading!)

#simon riley x you #simon riley fanfic #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost call of duty

[weirdo-fun]

Am I supposed to be writing these stories? Yes. Am I having too much fun with creatng mood boards instead? Yes.

Here are two mood boards I have done for my upcoming stories. I know their aesthetic's are completely different, but I am just so excited (and nervous) to finishing up the first drafts that I need to post about it.

ACOTAR: Sun and Dusk

COD: Call of The Survivor

#moodboard #fanfic #acotar #call of duty #cod #cod mw3 #acotar fanfiction #weirdofunmoodboards #aesthetic #shower thoughts #please don't steal my ide

[weirdo-fun]

Hello everyone! Here is my masterlist for all my writings that are here or will come. I am creating this now so that once I finish school I can start posting all my works/ideas that I have had for the past year. See y'all soon :)

*Warning* Minors DNI! Please don't interact. The fics here will be for adult eyes only (18+) for the swearing and topics being discussed. Please be smart of how you guys use the internet and social media.

Created: 4/17/2024

Last Updated: 4/28/2024

ACOTAR

Coming Soon:

A Court of Lost and Found

Sun and Dusk

They Don't Care About Us

Call of Duty

Coming Soon:

Call of the Survivor

Reposts

All of these reposts are for me share these writers amazing stories and posts. To also give credit to them because they work so hard and so it makes it easier for y'all to find them :)

Disclaimer: some reposts are from multi-chapter stories and will be reposts of later chapters and not the first one.

Side note: there are some fics with smut so please read the authors warnings/tags beforehand incase you don't want to read it.

Mass Effect

theartofthecover Saren Stone art prints

Call of Duty Fics

Author's Masterlists/Multi COD Characters

halcylone-of-the-sea Call of Duty AU Masterlist

starsexplodeatnight COD guys

Soap Fics

Could You Prentend To Love Me? Part 1

Ghost Fics

Among The Bullets Ch.1 Pt. 1 Ch.1 Pt. 2

Ch. 2 Pt. 1 Ch. 2 Pt. 2

ACOTAR Fics

Fun Quiz

the-lonelybarricade Which ACOTAR Character Are You Quiz

Fic Recs

Cosmic-Whispers Fic Recs Part 2

Author's Fic Ideas

honeybeefae fic idea

Azriel Fics

Hope Ch.2

Lease of Life Part 1 Part 2

Soothing Darkness Ch.1 Ch.5

I Hate That I Love You

Cupid's Chokehold

Nightlight

Ceilings Part 2

Fall For Me: Chapter 3

Bluebird Part II Part VIII

His Shadow Part 2

And Then There Were None Part 1

Broken Fence

Lucien Fics

Kinktober Day Eight: Hate F-

Cassian Fics

My Hero

Jewel of the Authumn

Eris Fics

Gust & Flame Masterlist

#masterlist #writing #acotar #call of duty #weirdofunmasterlist #fantasy #science fiction #shower thoughts

[weirdo-fun]

Among the Bullets

Chapter 1, part 1

Summary: You're a transfer mechanic for a task force which you know nothing about, and while trying to figure out your standing with each of the members you begin to realize you may be over your head. (Evental romance, bear with me)

When someone would look over your file they would be met with a nice and normal, average-looking citizen, who took over your father's Machine Shop at the age of sixteen when he passed away, went to trade school and then university for engineering on scholarship. The worst law you ever broke was speeding, it was clean, neat, and tied up with a bow. Then came when you were invited to be a console on a Military operation, and somehow that kept being a habit; you were a vital person in many operations.

Clean file. Looked good on paper.

“Bullshit!” Simon snapped at Price as he tossed the file onto the oak desk, giving his captain a disapproving glare (as if he could look any different). “A civilian?” 

Price sat down at his desk, leaning back in the chair and looking over the file that now sat in front of him, the emblem on the folder like a haunting mark of the mechanic's impending doom. With a shrug of his shoulders, he lifts his gaze to the lieutenant. He was well aware was less than pleased but the order was over his head, even if he did agree that it was risky and it would only deter their efforts, he had no choice but to allow it and pray to whatever God there was that no one would be killed, “Listen it’s and in an out op, the kid’s been on the field before.” 

Simon grumbled pinching the bridge of his nose as he looked at the captain, almost having to strain his eyes to see it through the darkness. Sure he had seen consoles come onto the team for certain operations, but not for this type of one, not one that would require this much attention to detail, not one that would be risky even for him. Then atop of the already risky mission, he would have to babysit some knee-weak mechanic, and lord knew he would be dumped with them because no one else would even give them a second thought- it was idiotic. And he would be sure to tell Price about his opinions. 

“What ‘bout protocol? The ranks? To even know the task force exists is clearance nine!” 

“Since when have you ever given a shit about protocol?” Price retorted and then stood back up, picking up the file and looking it over, “Full scholarship to MIT, been in the field for over ten years, girl’s a borderline genius. Like it or not she’s comin on and guess what? For the lip you get to greet her.” 

“Not babysittin it.” 

Price narrowed his gaze and glanced up at Simon, almost amused by the man’s harsh words, “Oh? Now you get to show ‘er to her bunk.” 

Simon let out an exasperated laugh, almost in shock by it all. He was being downgraded to a babysitter, something any rookie could do with easily, something so very below his paygrade, “Make Johnny be the welcome wagon, ‘etter at it.”

“No, you’re doin it.” He tapped the folder and then held it out for the lieutenant to take, not bothering to make his expression even look pleased, so when the man reluctantly took the file he spoke again, his voice growing more annoyed with each syllable. “Get a move on, she’ll be here within the hour.”

With a grunt Simon looks down at the file and turns on his heel, mind whirling at how stupid all of it was, how stupid of a mission they had to go on was, how stupid whoever chose to put some random mechanic on the team was, how stupid Price was for making him be the stupid wagon. Well, replace stupid with much cruder words and maybe quite a few insults, and then it would accurately describe his mental dialogue. Just as he reached the door of the office he heard Price call his name and for some reason, not for some reason there was reason, he thought about ignoring him. With a sigh, he turned about halfway to assure his captain he had his attention. 

“Don’t scare her, need her for this op.”

‘Don't scare her’ he mentally mocked as he walked through the base, almost laughing at the choice of wording, there is nothing he did better than scare people. It was a part of his MO so of course he would scare whatever mechanic they deemed fit to come onto the team. Hopefully, for his sake and theirs, he would be able to scare them off before the mission happened. 

“It’s been forty-seven hours, I’m tired, I’m dirty, and I’m hungry,” Your words were mainly to yourself as the random solider handed you the duffle bag you had oh so perfectly packed, and you tell just by how lopsided the weight was that it had been ransacked. You had just spent the last two days in a carrier, only stopping twice to get fuel for the craft and you weren't even allowed to look outside because that was ‘above your clearance’ to know where you were and no one offered any food and you were stupid enough to think you would have some sort of meal provided on the trip. So, your grumble was more of a plead for food, or somewhere to take a nap, instead, you were met with your bag to your chest and no response. 

With a hum you walk off the hangar, the base itself was bustling, people all within their own heads and no one even knew you existed, which may be for the better because you felt like a fish out of water. You had been told that someone would be there to give you more information but you were currently standing with a bag at your feet, no phone, no reference for anything, and a lot of panic pooling in your gut. Sure, you were smart, socially well, you got along well with others but…You hated when you felt out of place, so standing there well it might as well be your worst nightmare. 

When you hear your last name hissed from behind you you close to trip over your own feet to look behind you, only to slightly wish you didn’t. Growing up you were of average height, and a strong build and you felt pretty alright with your stature- yet at that moment you had never felt so small to put it simply. The man before you looked the part you assumed he was, a soldier, one who probably had…issues judging by the skull mask and the black clothes, or maybe he just never outgrew his emo phase.

“Oh.” You couldn’t keep the small squeak from your throat from coming out and you tuck your hand under your arm to pull off your glove, holding out your hand as you forced a smile to introduce yourself. The man before you just eyed you put down and then held out a tablet for you to take. So, you nod and take it, “Okay…cool? What is this?”

“Your schedule for the next week and a half.” He quipped harshly and then began to walk off, getting about halfway across the hangar before he realized you were simply not following and he stood still, “Civil!” Simon heard you let out a small ‘oh!’ and then approaching footsteps as if you ran over to him

Simon's gaze remained impassive as he took in your appearance, his eyes lingering on your simple outfit and unassuming demeanor. There was something about you that piqued his curiosity, which for whatever reason he found more unsettling than anything else. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was something that drew his attention, even as he looked away there was the faint growing feeling that he needed to look back- which was disgusting and foreign and he hated it so he resisted it with all of his might.

"We'll meet the rest of the team tonight," Simon stated, his tone clipped and businesslike as he continued to walk towards one of the main halls.

"Okay, and…," your voice trails off as you look through the schedule and then bite back a laugh as you see how…well scheduled it was, not a minute was left for anything, even your nightly schedule was not your own (something you will be ignoring) and you nod. "That is at 17:30 thank you, Lieutenant Riley."

“How do you know that?”

Your head shoots up and look at him and you let out a small hum, realizing your error by addressing him by a name you really shouldn’t have known you look down at the tablet again, so with a nervous tic of clearing your throat your gaze lowers to the tablet again,“C…Can I plead the fifth to that?”

“No.” His words left room for silence until he reached the quarters, the one that used to be an office so the bed was only a pull-out sofa and by far it was the closest to the garage, and he could tell by your confused stare up at him that you were baffled on why he stopped walking and he motioned to the door. “Yours.” 

“I get my own room?” The lightheartedness to your slightly ecstatic quip was met with a lifeless stare and you nodded, opening the door with a laugh following your sigh, “This is so cool! Usually, when I work for the military they put me in the barracks-” You spin around to see him with a beaming smile upon your expression, “Thank you.” 

Unshokcingly all you were met with was a nod and then being left to your own unpacking, so you nod and then move to close the door. Not that you needed to unpack, afterall you would be on base for about a week and a half, and then your little ‘mission’ and then you would be free to go home. This would be easy. Super…easy, right? 

; 

“Tha’ little thing??” Johnny interrupted with a flabbergasted look on his face, almost falling over from the next punch Simon landed on the boxing bag he had supposed to be holding steady, sure he knew they were getting a consult but- “She’s gunna die.” 

Simon looks at him from the boxing bag, holding out his hand to steady it, “No shit.” 

“Cap’n okay with it’?” 

A small pause and then Simon raises his fists again, “Don’t know. Meet ‘er tonight.”

I’m still new to this still, feed back would be sooo appericated!

Chapter 1, part two

[weirdo-fun]

Broken Fence

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: angst. major character death.

Summary: Humans only have a short lifespan compared to the fae and unfortunately for Azriel he had fallen in love with one.

A Court of Thorns and Roses Masterlist

•••

The door slammed open as Azriel burst into Rhys’s office, tears streaming down his face and sobs echoing throughout the room. Rhys and Cassian looked toward their brother and rushed over to him. In the centuries they had known Azriel, they had never seen him this hysterical. As Azriel collapsed to the floor, Rhys fell down with him, pulling the shadowsinger into his arms. Cassian placed his hands on Azriel’s shoulders gently. 

“Az, what happened?” asked Cassian. 

The sobs coming from Azriel only increase as he clutches onto Rhys, trying his best to ground himself. Rhys and Cassian share a look of questioning, neither of the two knew what would have happened. 

“Azriel,” Cassian spoke softly. “Please tell us what happened.”

Azriel’s gaze finally met Cassian’s, his eyes full of tears and Cassian’s heart broke just looking at him. 

“She’s- she’s dead,” Azriel forced out before more guttural sobs came from him. 

“Az, who’s dead,” Rhys asked, tightening his grip on the shadowsinger. 

Azriel pulled away from Rhys and slumped forward, pushing his brothers away. His breath was ragged and he could barely see in front of him as the tears in his eyes clouded his vision. 

In his whole life, Azriel had never felt this type of pain. His heart was shattered and scattered where he would never be able to find them. In the matter of hours, Azriel had gone from the happiest male in the world to the saddest. The agony he felt was unbearable. Azriel had survived wars and torture but this was still the most pain he had ever felt. 

Azriel placed his hand over his heart, it hammered in his chest. Rhys and Cassian remained standing behind him giving him as much space as they could. 

“Y/N,” Azriel finally spoke. “She died.”

“Whose Y/N?” Rhys asked. 

“She—“ Azriel cut himself off as another sob forced itself out of him. “She was mine and I— I was hers. I love her so much.”

Cassian stepped up to Azriel and placed his hand on his shoulder once more. This time Azriel didn’t try to pull away. Rhys came up behind Azriel and stood next to him, offering him the same comfort as Cassian. 

“How did she die?” Rhys asked. 

Azriel was silent. He leaned into his brothers’ touch, seeking as much comfort as he could. “Old age,” he finally answered. “She was seventy-one.”

Only an hour before, Azriel had clutched onto hers as she took her final breaths. The slackening of her grip made Azriel’s heart drop as soon as he felt it. He had smoothed her hair out of her face as she closed her eyes for the final time. She looked older than when he had met her when she was twenty-six but that glimmer in her eyes remained. 

“She was human,” Azriel began. His sobs had slowly subsided and now his cries were quiet as he spoke. “I met her forty five years ago. It’s where I always disappear every night.”

Rhys guided Azriel to sit down. His wings were dragging across the floor, he didn’t care enough to pick them up. 

“How did you two meet?” Cassian asked. 

Azriel let out a breath. “You sent me on a mission to the human lands when an ash arrow was shot at my wing.”

“You never told me that!” Rhys exclaimed. 

Azriel shrugged. “It wasn’t important.” Azriel wiped away the tears that had dried on his cheeks. “I fell into Y/N’s garden, I ruined her fence.”

Despite the way he was feeling he couldn’t help but smile at the memory. 

***

As soon as he hit the ground, Azriel groaned in pain. It was late at night so Azriel thought that he would have been safe flying over the mortal lands. Apparently not. Heaving his body from the ground, Azriel stood on his feet. His left wing hung limply beside him. Every movement sent a sharp pain through it. 

As his focus shifted from his injuries— which consisted of his wing and his arm which had broken from his landing— Azriel had failed to notice where he had crash landed. 

“Who the hell are you!” A woman's voice echoed through the night air. 

Azriel spun around and noticed a woman in her mid twenties standing with a small wooden beam in her hands. She held it defensively in front of her though she looked as if she would throw it at any point. 

Azriel held his hands up in defence, although with some effort considering the pain in his arm. “I’m not a threat.”

“You’re not human,” the woman said. “Why are you here?”

“I was flying over the mortal lands and I was shot by an ash arrow,” Azriel explained. “I can leave as soon as I get the arrow out.”

The woman took a step closer, her eyes full of uncertainty. “Does it hurt?”

Azriel grunted as he tried to move his wing. The arrow was in a place he couldn’t reach. “Yes.”

The woman took one more step closer. Her eyes glanced at his arm and down to the arrow in his wing. “Aren’t you meant to be fast at healing?”

“The arrow slows that process down,” Azriel said. “As soon as it is out, I can be on my way.”

“You broke my fence,” the woman stated. 

Azriel looked over at the fence he had fallen on. “I apologise.”

The woman dropped the wooden beam, sensing that Azriel wasn’t a threat. “Do you want to come inside? I can help you with…that.”

Azriel looked taken back for a moment. “What?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “I asked you if you wanted to come in. I can help you with your injuries.”

Azriel lowered his head. “I would appreciate it.”

The woman turned on her heel and walked back to her house. “Come on then.”

Obediently, Azriel followed. He ducked through her doorway and shut the door behind him. The cottage was small but homely. There was a fire roaring and the woman walked over to the kitchen area, moving a stool out from under the table. 

“Sit,” The woman said. 

Azriel sat down on the stool and sighed, relieved to get off his feet. 

“How do I go about this?” The woman asked. 

Azriel finally looked at her in the lighting and his breathing hitched in his throat. The woman standing before him was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. 

“What’s your name?” Azriel asked, his voice soft. 

“Y/N,” she said. 

“Y/N,” Azriel repeated. The name sounded beautiful on his tongue.

“Don’t wear it out,” Y/N said, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “Now, how do I…y’know?”

Y/N gestured to the arrow in his wing. 

“Oh,” said Azriel, raising his wing the smallest amount, pain shooting through him. “Make sure you pull it straight or it will cause more damage.”

“Okay,” Y/N breathed, suddenly nervous. 

Azriel watched as she kneeled down by the arrow and glided her fingers over his wing. Azriel flinched and Y/N jumped back. 

“I’m sorry!” She exclaimed, wide-eyed. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” Azriel said. “My wings are just sensitive. Sorry I scared you.”

Y/N only offered him a nod before shuffling closer to his wing. Her fingers gently touched the area next to the arrow. This time Azriel didn’t flinch but breathed out through his teeth. 

“Okay, just pull it straight through,” Y/N muttered to herself. 

Azriel glanced down at her and watched her expressions change as she hyped herself up to pull the arrow from his wing. Her hand was already on the arrow and his blood was soaking into her hands. Despite the way he was feeling, Azriel was shocked. He would guess that any other mortal would easily shy away from him or happily kill him– and one of those options was already attempted. 

“I’m sorry if this hurts,” Y/N said.

She wrapped her hand around the arrow head and quickly pulled it through his wing. Azriel grunted in pain and Y/N simply pressed a bandage to the wound to clear the blood away. As Y/N continued to wipe all of the blood away, Azriel could hear her heartbeat increase. 

“Are you scared of me?” Azriel asked, his voice soft. 

Y/N looked up at him, stilling her movements. “No, I’m not. I’m just worried I hurt you.”

Azriel’s eyes softened. “You didn’t hurt me.”

Y/N offered him a small smile. “Good.”

Y/N rose to her feet and Azriel tracked her movements. She moved with a certain grace that Azriel had never seen before and he found it hard to tear his eyes away. 

“What is your name?” Y/N asked, sitting in the seat beside Azriel. 

“What?” Azriel questioned, snapping out of his trance. 

“Your name,” said Y/N, amusement shining in her eyes. “You never told me.”

“Azriel,” he said. “My name is Azriel.”

Y/N nodded before rising from the chair she was sitting in. For the first time since he had entered her home, Azriel looked away from Y/N and down to his arm. It was slowly beginning to heal. 

“It is truly fascinating how fast you heal,” Y/N commented. “I broke my arm when I was just ten years old, it only took six weeks to heal but it felt like it was much longer for me.”

Azriel offered her a nod and flexed his fingers, there was a dull ache– nothing he couldn’t handle. His wing still hurt but as he raised it from where it had rested limply behind him, he found that he would have the strength to fly. From where she now stood in the kitchen area, Y/N glanced at Azriel out of the corner of her eyes, her eyes focused on his wings. She didn’t seem to be afraid at all– she looked fascinated. 

In his entire three-hundred and twenty years of living, Azriel had never seen a human take such an interest in him before, at least an interest that didn’t cause him direct harm. Azriel enjoyed it. 

“How do you feel when flying?” Y/N asked, spinning around. “I mean, how is it? Is it scary being so high up? I always wanted to fly when I was younger. I was convinced that I had a secret power to fly so I jumped from the roof of the house. It’s how I broke my arm.”

Azriel couldn’t help but let a quiet laugh pass by his lips. He didn’t intend for it to slip past but from the way Y/N’s face lit up when she heard it, he was glad he let it slip past. “I can show you.”

Her eyes widened. “No, I couldn’t possibly accept that. You are injured.”

Azriel stretched his wing. “I’ve handled worse.”

Y/N took a small step forward as Azriel held out his hand. She looked down at it and Azriel had the urge to pull his hand away once her gaze became focused on his scars. Before he could even begin to, Y/N clasped her soft hand in his. “Only if this doesn’t hurt you,” she said.

Azriel clasped her hand in his, savouring the feeling of her skin. “I assure you, I will be fine.”

With their hands linked together, Azriel led her outside. Y/N looked nervous as she looked to the sky. 

“Having second thoughts?” Azriel questioned, a hit of teasing laced his tone.

“No!” Y/N exclaimed. “It’s just a bit high, isn’t it?”

Azriel chuckled and Y/N smiled. “What?” she asked.

If Azriel could have a portrait of her smiling face he would. It was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen.

“Nothing,” Azriel said, simply smiling down at her. 

Y/N shook her head, and looked down to the ground, her smile never faltering. 

“Are you still sure about this?” Azriel asked. 

“Yes,” Y/N replied. “Just…don’t drop me.”

Azriel squeezed her hand. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

With a quick movement, Azriel sweeped Y/N from her feet and she let out a noise of surprise and wrapped her arms around his neck. “I wasn’t ready!” she exclaimed.

Azriel turned his head to look at her and he immediately found that it was a mistake. Her breath fanned his face as his eyes met hers, faces only inches apart. Up close, Azriel could make out the colour of her eyes and the dark lashes that framed them. Azriel couldn’t help himself as he let his eyes glide down her face. Her lips were slightly parted and Azriel couldn’t help but fixate on them. They looked soft and he desperately wanted to test his theory. 

Before he could even think about leaning closer, he cleared his throat. As he spoke his voice was quiet. “I will need to stay away from the town or anywhere that we are likely to be spotted.”

“That’s fine,” Y/N replied, breathless. 

“Hold on tight.”

It was all Azriel said as he shot off into the sky. The pain in his wing was mostly gone, all that remained was a slight pain whenever he flapped his wings to soar higher into the sky. As soon as Azriel shot off, Y/N’s arms tightened around his neck and her head buried in his shoulder, eyes closed tight. Azriel tightened his grip on her as he flew through the sky, making sure to avoid anywhere that he would endanger Y/N. 

“You can look,” Azriel said. “You do have quite a view.”

Azriel felt Y/N let out a breath and pull her head from where it was buried in his shoulder and immediately looked down. As soon as she saw how high they were, her face was once again nestled in Azriel’s shoulder. 

“Don’t look down,” Azriel said, his voice gentle and encouraging. “Look at me.”

Y/N pulled her face away slowly, her gaze meeting Azriel’s. As soon as their eyes met, Azriel smiled. He couldn’t help himself. Once Y/N was used to the thought of being so high in the sky, her gaze left Azriel’s as she looked out and a gasp left her lips. 

“It’s beautiful,” Y/N whispered, her eyes darting across everything she saw. The twinkle of lights from the town, the stars in the sky and the moon, which was full and in her direct eyeline. 

“I know,” Azriel said, though he wasn’t looking at the view. He was looking at Y/N.

Everything in Azriel told him to simply fly her back to her house and leave her. Thinking about her the way he was would only cause problems, mainly for him. Her lifespan was limited, if he became too attached she would only become a small fraction of his immortal life. 

But Azriel couldn’t help himself. To him, she was the most beautiful being in the world. The moonlight shone on her face as she looked at the view around her, her gaze never focusing on one thing for too long, not wanting to miss anything. 

“You do this everyday?” Y/N questioned. “It’s incredible.”

The sounds of her melodic voice snapped Azriel out of his thoughts as he looked at where they were flying, closer to the village. “We should go back now, I wish not to be seen again.”

Y/N’s gaze looked at the moon once more before she nodded. 

It wasn’t long before Azriel had landed back in Y/N’s garden. He set Y/N down on her feet gently and looked down at her. Her hair was windswept but she was still gorgeous. 

The smile on her face was bright as she looked up at Azriel. “That was amazing! I can’t believe I was flying!”

“Technically you weren’t flying,” Azriel teased.

Y/N gently hit his arm. “I was up in that sky, so I was flying.”

Azriel rolled his eyes playfully. 

“Thank you, Azriel,” Y/N said, her hand caressing his hand. “Truly, that was the most incredible thing I have ever done.”

“I’m glad you trusted me,” Azriel replied. 

As they stood there in the middle of the garden with the ruined fence, Y/N reached up and threw her arms around his shoulders. Shocked, Azriel remained still, not anticipating the affectionate gesture. Her body was warm and welcoming against him. He enjoyed the feeling immensely. 

Just as Y/N was about to pull away, Azriel’s arms found their place around her waist and held her tightly, though not enough to injure her human body. 

“I didn’t pin you for much of a hugger,” Y/N commented, her voice muffled against his shoulder. 

“I’m not,” Azriel replied, lifting her from her feet with ease.

Y/N legs wrapped around his waist as Azriel buried his head in the crook of her neck. 

“You bring something out of me,” said Azriel. His lips brushed against her neck which caused a shiver to go down Y/N’s spine. “I can’t explain it.”

Y/N unwrapped her legs from around him and Azriel set her on her feet but Y/N didn’t pull away– not fully. “Are you leaving?”

Azriel sighed. He didn’t want to, but he knew he couldn’t stay. “I am.”

“Will you come back?” Y/N asked, her eyes, although sad, were full of hope.

Azriel knew that it was a bad idea. He could never be with a human but with Y/N, he had never felt so carefree and at ease before. Her touch alone did things to him that no other touch had. 

“I will return,” Azriel said. “I can’t leave you when I haven’t even flown you when there is a sunset.”

Y/N smiled. “When? I don’t want it to be when I am old and grey.”

There was a small stab to Azriel’s heart at the thought of Y/N ageing when he wouldn’t but he brushed it off. “Tomorrow?”

Y/N brightened. “Really? You will really come back?”

Azriel cupped her cheeks. “You couldn’t keep me away.”

Y/N hands held onto his wrists. “I will be waiting.”

His thumb brushed across her cheek. “I will be here as soon as I can.”

“You better,” Y/N said. “And you better be good with your hands because I expect you to fix my fence.”

Azriel laughed, not not bothering to hide his amusement. “Is that all you want me for? You rebuild your garden decoration.”

“And to fly me around,” Y/N replied. “Why else would I need you?”

“I can think of a few things,” Azriel whispered and watched as Y/N looked to the floor flustered. 

Azriel smiled fondly at Y/N as he tilted her chin up. “I will return tomorrow, Y/N.”

Their lips touched and before Y/N could process exactly what was happening, Azriel had pulled away, a smug smile on his face. He stepped back and Y/N gaped at him.

“You can’t just do that and then leave!” Y/N exclaimed. 

“Why? I thought you only wanted me for construction and flying?” 

Y/N rolled her eyes before she marched up to Azriel and tugged him down until their lips crashed together. Y/N took the lead in the kiss, and Azriel allowed her. Her lips were soft and Azriel needed more of her. He needed to feel those lips everywhere on his body. 

Before Azriel could wrap his arms around her and pull her body against his, Y/N pulled away. A smug smile now on her face. 

“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, Azriel,” Y/N said, stepping back. 

It was Azriel’s turn to gape at her and Y/N only laughed, a sound Azriel wished to hear again and again and again. 

“Maybe if you build my fence well, I’ll let you continue that,” Y/N said. 

Azriel smirked. “I will build that fence so that it outshines every other fence ever built.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Azriel,” Y/N said before turning her back to him and walked back into the warmth of her house.

Azriel waited until she closed the door before shooting to the sky to fly back home– a bright smile on his face. 

***

“I went back nearly every night,” Azriel said. “Any free time I had, I spent with her. We could never make it official but she had bought us rings. She said that despite the fact that we couldn't get married, she wanted to call me her husband.”

Azriel pulled a chain from around his neck, a simple gold band threaded on it, next to it a ring with a simple gen in the middle, the exact colour of Azriel’s siphons. Y/N had urged Azriel to take it before she passed. 

“I called her my wife for forty-four years,” Azriel explained.

“Why did you never tell us?” Rhys asked. “You could have brought her here, I would have protected her.”

Azriel shook his head. “I didn’t want to take any risk. I would happily risk my safety to keep crossing into the mortal lands but I would never risk hers.”

Azriel looked down at the rings on the chain and more tears welled in his eyes. It was the first time he had seen her ring off her finger since he had slipped it on. “I miss her. I really miss her.”

Cassian simply wrapped his arm around his brother and let him let out the tears. 

“I tried to convince myself not to get too attached to her,” Azriel said. “I really tried but the more I tried to force myself to leave, the more I began to fall in love with her. She was so easy to love.”

Rhys smiled sadly at his brother. “I wish we could have met her.”

“You would have loved her,” Azriel replied, he hadn’t torn his gaze away from the two rings. “Can I be alone for a moment?”

Cassian simply shared a look with Rhys and the two offered Azriel a squeeze of support before standing to their feet and leaving the room. Azriel remained in silence.

Tears fell down his cheeks as he pressed her ring to his lips, kissing it just as he had before he placed it on her finger. It hadn’t been long since Y/N had passed, yet Azriel dreaded everything that came after. He dreaded waking up in the mornings and not being able to pull her close to him. The left side of the bed would always be cold. 

Azriel clutched the two rings in his fist and cried silently. He would never hear her laugh or see her smile, always so bright it lit up any room. He would never wrap his arms and wings around her whenever she was having a bad day and he would never feel the comfort of her arms around him whenever he was feeling down. 

As the tears fell, Azriel swore he felt a hand caress his cheek. His eyes remained closed but as he felt another caress he opened them, his vision slightly blurred by the tears. However, through them he could still make out a faint figure. 

It was Y/N, looking the same as the day they met. 

“Y/N…” Azriel whispered as he tried to reach out but his hand fell though empty air. 

Y/N’s soft smile graced her face as she simply leaned forward and pressed her lips against her forehead. Azriel could barely feel it but he would recognise her kiss anywhere. He savoured it, knowing that it was the last time he would ever feel it. 

As she pulled away Azriel watched as she faded more and more, the sun shining through the window rendering her practically invisible but Azriel could still make out her face. A face that he would never forget. 

“I love you.”

Her voice was barely a whisper and it sounded like it was coming from all directions at once. 

“I love you too,” Azriel replied. “I love you and I always will.”

The same bright smile Azriel loved spread across her face as she blew him a kiss before she completely disappeared. Azriel’s eyes remained on where she had stood. He still couldn’t figure out if she was real or if it was just a figment of his imagination. But those touched felt real. 

Azriel looked back at the two rings on the chain. He slid his own from it. He had never been able to wear it when he wasn’t with Y/N. With his job at the Night Court, he never wanted any potential enemies to find out about her. But now…now he could freely wear it. Azriel slipped his own ring onto his finger and smiled. It felt right. 

He pressed one final kiss to Y/N’s before he tucked it back under his shirt, feeling the cool metal press against his chest, just over his heart. 

Azriel wiped the tears from his face and let out a deep breath before exiting Rhys’s office, seeking out the comfort of his brothers. With time he knew that he would be okay, he didn’t know if that would be in ten years or a hundred years but he knew that one day he would be okay. 

[weirdo-fun]

And Then There Were None – Part 1

Azriel/fem!reader

Synopsis: In the lead up to the war, Hybern releases a catastrophic spell that wipes out all humans, sparing just one.

Abandoned in the desolate human lands, you scavenge to survive long enough to find your family.

Reluctantly, you are found by the Shadowsinger as fate intervenes to guide you under his watchful eye.

Part 2>>>

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Death, blood, suggestions of miscarriage

Twigs snapped beneath your boots, your steps heavy with exhaustion as you stumbled through yet another town, as barren and deserted as the last one. 

Exhaustion and dehydration weighed heavy, wisps of dust caking your skirts, your boots the only thing to disturb the rubble in days. 

There was no concern for a carriage that might pull up behind, or a bossy merchant to yell at you to clear the path. While the ghosts of the life that once flourished echoed in closed shops and abandoned stalls, you stopped looking over your back days ago.

There were no plumes of smoke from chimneys, no distant chatter or laughter or cries. Safe from the occasional grunts or mews of abandoned cattle - there was not a single sign of life, and no human in sight for the past ten days.

A jarring cramp ripped from your abdomen, pulling you from delirium with urgency.

Water, food, bathe and sleep. That was why you were here.

You tried not to think about how quickly resources were depleting, even though you were sure you were the only one using them. Without people to treat water, the stagnant liquid became increasingly dangerous. And you couldn’t farm a vegetable to save your life, and had spent too long journeying to have tended to any crops.

You’d have to go further into the woods soon, find a fresh stream, perhaps hunt too. But you'd need strength for that, and you had just about run out.

At least it was spring, and at least the trees bloomed with fruit as you travelled from town to town, feet blistered and chapped. You cursed you parents for not teaching you formidable survival skills - fighting, hunting, even the ability to ride a gods damned horse would have been an incomparable luxury these past hellish days. 

A clang of guilt, and frustration quickly churned to longing. Gods, you hoped they were alive. You would do anything to have them here, to journey this devastating isolation together, the little ones too. You prayed to the Mother for the umpteenth time that day that they were safe and well. 

It was not a concern when you woke to an empty house almost a fortnight earlier. Your father was likely at the market, your mother hard at work at the tailor in town. Your siblings were hard to catch at this time of year, with school out of term and the warm spring air, they would spend each waking moment by the river if your parents let them. 

It wasn't until you spotted your fathers wheelbarrow through the speckled glass of your kitchen window, held by rotting wood. Empty and unmoved, his tools lay flat on the ground, untouched since the day before. You could have sworn he told you he’d be at the market by dawn. 

Scanning the room, your eyes flicked to the doorway where your mothers workbag lay untouched. Needles sat poked in balls of yarn as stray thread sprawled over leather - but an eery stillness sang to you at your parent’s tools. 

Names and calls went unanswered, and after a quick search of the home you ran outside, urgent to ask your neighbours where they had gone, your heart fastening with every step.

Too frantic to observe the lack of movement and noise from your own street, you rapped on the door, waiting only a few seconds to push the rattling screen and forcing your way in.

Names went unanswered again, and it was instinct that steered you straight for the nursery. You halted at the sight of new born's empty crib, blankets rippled as if the babe was taken straight from it’s sleep.

Your calls turned frantic as you scoured each room, an upsetting, looming sensation creeping over your skin.

Bursting from the home, you shielded your eyes from the bright sun as you scanned the street with urgency. Your only greeting was a quiet breeze and snort of a horse left abandoned by a cart - as if it had stopped it's journey halfway through.

In a panicked haze, you searched the next home, and the next, and the next. The dizziness found you then. 

Clearly there was an emergency of some kind. But you had been abandoned, left to sleep until midday amongst the quiet. The thought pained you.

More calls to anyone who might have stayed behind, yet still no answer. Your heart was a thunder in your ears. 

Had the war finally reached you? Had your family fled in the dead of the night? You shook the thought from your head – they would have woken you, would have needed your help to escape with the youngens.

And then you were running – yelling, sprinting through the dusty streets, voice breaking as you dashed from home to home, shop to shop, calling, crying, pleading.

You were utterly alone. You had been left there, alone. 

In a swarm of panic, you pressed a palm at your heart, willing yourself to calm. It was a dream, surely. You were not abandoned, only stuck in a nightmare, the kind that often found you as murmurs of Hybern’s army reaching human lands became louder. 

In that dizzying thought, you willed yourself awake, forcing your eyes open to the walls of your dark and cramped room, to the noises as your siblings shouting and playing from downstairs, to the whistle of the kettle and the creak of the wood as your father came to wake you.

But the light was blinding, the sun as true as the your abandonment.

Beads of sweat that ran down your neck, a gnawing anxiousness building in your stomach as it heaved and cramped, nausea and panic churning to one. 

Something truly terrible had happened.

And in that moment of utter disbelief, a stabbing pain ripped from your stomach, so great it forced a whimper from your throat. 

As silent trickles of blood ran from your thighs to your knees, tracing your calves beneath the fabric of your skirt, you found a numbing sort of courage. Pushing your legs forward, you mindlessly heeded the road out of your home town, and on to the next. 

People. You needed to find people.

————

Ten days, and still not a single sole in sight. Each home, each tavern, each market and farm left eerily untouched. 

The silence was enough to drive you mad, if not besides the aide you so desperately sought. This was not your cycle - although the pains were familiar. You had known what you were, what this was.

Almost a fortnight, yet the blood still came. Slower now, spotting instead of trickles. You had stolen clothing from abandoned shops, food and water too. But you were distraught, moments away from folding into utter madness. And you were weak – very, very weak.

Water, food, a bath and rest. A list you repeated to yourself, your body begging to prioritise sleep with every step as you approached a farm at the town’s edge.

With a weak hand, you pushed past the gate to the yard, large rusty barrels sat open where a cow and her calf now drank. The water was murky with a distinct smell, but it would have to do. Tomorrow, you’d find fresh water tomorrow.

The trembling hand that dipped to the cool water hardly looked like your own. Dirt lay thick under your nails, your skin littered with cuts from the countless times you had shattered windows of stores and traders homes, scouring the stock for preserved goods and weapons. 

Bringing the cool liquid to your lips, you ignored the taste of iron as you willed it to soothe your throat - hoarse from the endless calls that went unanswered.

Ears pricking at sudden growl behind you, you jerked at the site of a pack of dogs who approached on stealthy paws. Their eyes were hungry - flicking between you and the calf. Once loyal farming dogs you were sure, now abandoned by owners and left to fend for themselves. They had formed packs - clever things. While you were sure they couldn't kill you, you didn't have the strength to fight an infection if they got close enough to sink their teeth. 

From your side, you unsheathed the hunting knife you had looted from a previous town. Swinging it with unpracticed skill, you shouted at the pack, your heart thundering as you waited for them to recline on hindered paws and leap. 

They pack seemed to weigh you up, deciding the calf was an easier target. You fled inside the house before you could see it meet it’s end. 

The home was neat, and you almost cried at the sight of a loaf of bread sitting atop the kitchen counters. Mould had attacked it’s edges, but you tore at it, fisting mouthfuls of the centre, dry crumbs coating your throat it was an effort not to choke.

Your stomach lurched, unhappy with the quality of the food and water, but you didn't care. You were on step closer to rest.

Another jarring cramp from your stomach, and you faltered, gripping at the wooden table as you trembled to keep yourself upright. This ailment, how much longer would you last? Sleep begged at you, your body moments from giving out. You’d have to forgo the bath, and prayed to the mother you’d find the strength for it in the morning.

Forcing yourself to the bedroom, swaying with each stumbled step, consciousness was already slipping as you collapsed on the bed, clothes and boots in tact. 

————

It was a feverish sleep, your body doused in sweat as you stirred often, jolting awake in panics, phantom calls of your family mixed with the flap of wings, and the crunch of stone and rock under heavy boots.

Then a voice, voices – ones you were sure they were part of your slumber. 

But as those footsteps got closer, you woke in a startle, your heart fastened as you blinked furiously. 

Voices. Humans. People. Alive, well enough to talk. 

You leapt from the bed, ignoring the spin of your head as you clambered to the window, peering behind sheer drapes to the street in front.

Your stomach sank. Lurched. Then sank again. 

A large, demonic figure stalked for the home. Wings arched behind it’s head, it’s figure blackened by the leathers it bore, sword and knives strapped around. 

And, wisps of some kind. Deadly, reaping magic.

Fae.

Fae had come. 

Knees buckling, you stumbled back a few steps. 

The world around you reeled as adrenaline coursed through. You would have just moments to prepare if you wanted a chance to survive. 

Knife. Your hunting knife. Still strewn at your hip.

Grasping it’s hilt tightly with a trembling hand, you scanned the room for the best place to hide. 

The cupboard was too obvious, and there was room under the bed - but there’d be not enough to swing your knife, only enough for them to drag you by the ankle… 

The gentle click of the front door opening, and it took all you had not to whimper in panic.

Scrambling for the door as quietly as possible, you pressed your palm to your mouth, begging yourself not to cry as you pressed yourself behind the wood.

From what you could hear over the thunder of your heart, the steps of the fae were quiet despite it’s size. 

“Anything in there?” a deep voice boomed from the street. You jolted at the volume. More than one, then.

There was no reply from the creature in the home, only the creak of the wood as it made it’s way through. 

“Really, Azriel? Are we to check every home?” Female this time, impatience and ignorance laced in the somehow ancient voice.

No response again, instead a footstep, right by the door.

Something tickled your ankles then, and it was beyond you to stifle your compulsive scream. 

Black furling wisps coated your boots.

And then the door opened.

The creature made it one step inside before you had aimed your knife for it’s heart. 

A prepared, cool hand caught your wrist inches from it’s chest. Your bones crushing in it’s grasp, and you let out a yelp of pain. 

It’s face - his face - was one of shock. “S-sorry,” he stuttered, dropping his grip all together. 

You blinked back in shock, ignoring at the throb of your wrist as you snatched it back. 

For a dumb moment, you stared at each other with equally wide eyes. The male didn't seem to know what to do. 

“You’re human? How are you here, where-?"

The males sentence was clipped short as you drove the knife towards his chest again. 

Quick as an asp, he caught you by the forearm this time, more gently too. 

Hazel eyes scanned you, his features schooling as he called over his shoulder. “I’ve found someone.”

You were sure you looked mad, grunting with the effort to pull your arm from him, breaths ragged, eyes and hair wild. The male studied you as he might a rabid animal. 

Behind him appeared an even taller male, his form more terrifying than the one that gripped you. 

“Mother above,” the new one whispered, scanning you in the way the first one had. 

“L-let go of me,” you rasped, pulling your arm back, tears stinging at the pain of you surely broken wrist began to swell. 

It was a odd detail to note, the scars and ripples of the fae’s hand as he gently unfurled your fingers, prying the hunting knife from you before releasing his grip. 

“Let me see,” the female’s voice piped from behind, the males struggling to fold their wings further, cramming into the room to let her through. 

You faltered back on instinct, legs hitting the edge of the bed. 

As the female broke through the males, harsh silver eyes scanned you up and down. She was half their height, a little shorter than you actually, but the depth of her gaze kept your hands by your side.

“Seems the Mother has spared one after all,” she muttered, nose crumpling at your scent. 

Your answered with a scowl. 

“What is your name?” it demanded. 

“Amren,” the taller male warned, his eyes flicking back to you with softness. 

You refused to answer. Couldn’t if you wanted to. 

Amren sighed, casting her head sideways to the one with rippled hands. “She bleeds.”

“I know,” he answered, hazel eyes not breaking from you. You blushed, furious and humiliated. 

He stepped around her then, the movement graceful and soft despite his size. 

“You need aide.”

You gulped, unable to process his words. “L-leave me be,” you demanded, voice hoarse as you tried to create more distance between you and it. 

He crouched in front of you then, leathers stretching against ripples of muscle. You noticed them then, jewels, saphires, humming from his body as if they were alive.

He followed your eyes curiously, before answering you with a soft smile. 

“These are siphons,” he said plainly, giving one a friendly tap. 

You snapped your eyes back to him, disgust forming your features. “You are here on behalf of Hybern?”

The female snorted from behind, earning a shove from the larger male beside her, his siphons glowing red.

The one in front of you studied you. “No, absolutely not.” 

You scowled, not inclined to believe them. 

“We come one behalf of our High Lord Rhysand, and High Lady Feyre. Rulers of the Night Court. Do you know of them?”

Feyre - the human women who had freed the fae from the grasp of their enemy. You knew the story, the heroic tale of a human women who gave her life for the male she loved. Had heard of her triumphs Under the Mountain, that she had been made into fae herself in exchange for her sacrifice. 

“The-the curse breaker?”

A small smile cocked on both of the males faces. 

“That’s right,” the one crouched in front answered. “She sent us to retrieve you.”

A panic surged within you. “Me?” you spat. Oh the ignorance of the fae, as if you were some pawn to pluck and place elsewhere. 

Azriel frowned, eyes dancing as he realised the mistake in his words. “To help you, of course. There has been-"

"No-n-no. My family, they will seek for me-"

Azriel's brow pulled with softness, his tone falling flat. "We will search for them. Meanwhile, you must see a-"

“Where are the others?” Your voice was louder now, eyes dancing in panic, chest rising with fastening breaths. Had they taken them too? “The people, they've left, I don't know-"

“We are searching for others. You are… the first we have found.”

Your mind reeled. How could that be? You had searched by foot - but with those wings, and the strength and power of fae…

“WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO THE OTHER HUMANS?” the volume of your voice shocked even yourself, that strength, that demand from deep within your chest. 

Azriel gave you a pained look, before standing to turn to his counterparts. “Amren, can you heal-?”

“I’m spent,” she cut off the male with a flick of her fingers. “Those canines out back were hardly enough to keep me going until sundown, so forget about healing. Unless you suggest I drink her blood, though I doubt she’d survive.”

Mother above.

You were too hazed to see the glare both of the males cut her.

“Then she will need to see a healer before we can continue.”

“She might refuse,” the larger one countered. 

“If she’s smart, she won’t. She won't survive out here on her own,” Amren muttered, cleaning her nails as she leaned one on leg, checking her cat-like claws for flecks of blood. 

They continued their mutter without once turning to you.

“There is no option here. I’ll take her to Velaris, and return once she’s safe.”

A shaking, blubbering anger grew within you, the creatures in front of you as ignorant and obnoxious as you had always been told fae are – to discuss your own fate as if you weren't in the room.

A killer instinct flared in you then, and you remembered the second knife you bore, hidden within your corsette. A pocket knife, a tool from your father to help pit and peel the fruit from his farm. 

The oak handle was cool in your left hand, the right throbbing and limp. With the last remains of energy,  you pushed up from the bed, swinging with all your strength - aiming for the blue-siphoned back. 

In a graceful turn, the male caught your arm for the third time. You had to blink at the speed with which he stopped you. 

Bracing for cruel, unforgiving anger, you were instead met with sympathetic eyes. 

Loathing coiled within you. 

“Release me,” you spat.

“I’m sorry to do this,” was all he said, and then pads of those rippled fingers were grasping your jaw, pressing to the pressure points of your neck with precision. 

Grunting to fight his grasp, you didn’t struggle long before a ringing in your ear grew to defeating silence and the world tipped to black. 

Part 2 >>> AN: HELLLOOO! And welcome to ATTWN - massive shout out to @kindasleepywriter for finding the perfect name for this series! I so so hoped you liked part 1. I edited it like a million times, still not 100% happy with it, but I think I just needed to get it out. Fair warning - this fic won't be light hearted, our reader is going to go through some really heavy stuff. I'll of course put my warnings ahead of each part, but please know I plan to explore some darker themes surrounding mental health etc. If you'd like to join the tag list for this fic, let me know in the comments! Always love hearing your feedback, and thank you so much for reading! <3 Nic

[weirdo-fun]

Bluebird — Azriel x Reader — Part VIII

Hey! Sorry for the wait on this one, it’s a big one and took me longer than I anticipated! I haven’t had the chance to properly proofread so sorry for any mistakes! Hope you enjoy all the same 💕

Summary: Forced to go on the road with her father, Reader gets a rude awakening that starts to play on her mind. But Azriel’s not willing to let go so easily.

Click here to be added to the Bluebird taglist! Please remember to check your settings and make sure you can be tagged! 💕

Word count: 8.7k

Warnings: Pretty gruesome descriptions of violence and injury. Masturbation. Nsfw, 18+, minors dni!

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The curtains were drawn.

To superior fae sight, nothing lay behind them besides darkness. Not even the flickering of a candle.

Azriel waited. And waited, and waited. His eyes did not once stray from the window, and hope burned fierce in him that those curtains would suddenly part, that a beautiful human face would appear that made his heart race and his skin feel too taut on his bones.

The fabric didn’t even twitch.

He knew, after a couple of hours, that he would not be seeing his Bluebird tonight. He tried not to feel too disappointed as he flew back towards the wall, the comfort of the fae realm. Such was the nature of their…relationship. It was clandestine and risky, and sometimes things would come up. Sometimes, one or both of them would be unavailable.

But as he stripped off his leathers and fell into his huge bed, he couldn’t tear his thoughts from her. Thoughts of where she was, what she was doing, what had rendered her unavailable to meet — whether she was safe.

Too many thoughts like that would do him no good. Would only worsen this…this alien sensation, of needing her with him all the time. Needing to have her in sight. Needing to have her at all.

He could only pray to the Mother that the next week pedalled on fast.

That he’d see his Bluebird soon.

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It had been the most uncomfortable day of your life.

A monotonous day on horseback, one landscape blurring into another. The village you were travelling to seemed like worlds away — and the journey was only made worse by the sticky summer heat, and the fact that you rode with Devin, slotted between the tight press of his muscled thighs.

Still, you were unflinching in your resolve that while you may not have been able to wriggle out of sharing a horse with him, you weren’t going to talk to him, no matter how much he tried to ply you with conversation.

It was his fault you had to come on this trip in the first damn place.

You tried your hardest to while away the time by sinking into your thoughts. It seemed that with each hour that passed, those thoughts became more vibrant, more longing. Thoughts of you, Azriel, a wildflower meadow. The ability to just…be in each other’s arms.

The ability to kiss him. Touch him.

Those thoughts didn’t help at all. It was an effort to keep them at bay, lest you make the ride even more uncomfortable.

But eventually — thankfully — you and your father’s group had arrived in the target village, just as the sun had been setting. News of your father’s cause had spread wide enough that it seemed his presence was expected. And very much welcomed.

You’d been ushered into the village tavern and supplied with more food and drinks than any of you needed. The feast kept you occupied while your father was absent awhile, apparently visiting a few villagers he was familiar with. And when he’d returned, it was there, that evening, nestled at the very back of the old, crumbling building, that you’d watched your his passionate presentation.

You’d heard the words spoken numerous times, of course. To his friends, and to anyone at the Bluebird Inn who would listen. But this was more than just a speech. This was an entire damn performance.

And it surprised you, how uncomfortable it made you to watch.

For all your father was quiet, brooding, sometimes soft-spoken, he commanded the tavern with a voice louder than you’d ever heard come out of him. His cheeks had grown ruddier as his own words riled him up. Spittle accompanied the angered, venomous words that left his mouth.

And it was all you could do to watch, your dinner feeling leaden in your stomach as you listened to the words — listened to him reel off a list of people he, personally, had met, who had suffered at the hands of the fae. As he told the story of your mother’s brutal death, and the details formed a lump in your throat, never lessening in impact. As he presented his ideas, his plans, in a way that was so refined, so expert, that it almost had you considering that they were the best course of action.

But you knew Azriel. You knew Azriel. These faeries that your father raged about were not his brethren. Azriel himself would abhor their actions.

You repeated that to yourself in your head, like a chant. Azriel was not like them. Azriel was good. Azriel cared for you.

Two whole hours, you had to sit there and listen to your father talk about frightening creatures who stole babies from their bassinets, who brutalised young girls, who tore families apart. Two whole hours, and your muscles were stiff and aching. Your head throbbing. Your body and mind desperate for the oblivion of sleep. A respite away from the pang in your gut.

Azriel was not like them. Azriel was good. Azriel cared for you.

The sight of your father and his men traipsing around the room with rolls of parchment and gathering signatures was a relief — only because you knew this would soon be over.

You sighed softly to yourself, slumping back in your chair and absentmindedly rubbing a hand over your stomach. As though it would somehow ease the complicated feelings that twisted it so violently.

“Impactful.” The chair beside you was pulled out, and Devin lowered himself into it. “Don’t you think?”

You gave the slightest dip of your chin. Couldn’t deny that your father had a way with words.

Devin pursed his lips, his eyes skating over you. “We have a long ride home, Y/N. Are you going to ignore me the whole way back, too?”

“Yes,” you hissed. “Because you had no right to talk to my father on my behalf.”

He folded his arms, appearing unflinching and unbothered by what he’d done. You may have thought he was in the wrong, but he certainly didn’t.

“I did so out of concern for you,” he replied. “Because what you said about the fae was wrong. None of them are good. The sooner you see that, the better.”

You bit inside of your cheek, simply to prevent yourself from arguing. But gods, you wanted to contest the statement. You wished you could tell him that you had cold, hard, beautiful evidence that he was wrong.

But doing so would only make things worse for you.

So you merely folded your own arms, and focused your gaze on the men weaving in and out of tables, gathering signatures, clapping supporters on the back and parting with well wishes. You stared and stared until the sight of them blurred.

And then Devin said, “You haven’t been yourself recently.”

You whipped your head around to look at him — gape at him. “You don’t know me well enough to say that.”

“I know you were acting shifty as fuck the night I came to check on you during the Summer Festival. You couldn’t get rid of me quick enough. I’d be forgiven for thinking you had someone there with you.”

“Who would I possibly have at my house?” you narrowed your eyes. “I’m not allowed to make friends, to form connections.”

His gaze softened. “I’m your friend.”

It wasn’t that long ago that you’d fantasised about him being more than that. He’d seemed so incredible, so gallant — a young man who could sweep you off your feet, and protect you while he guarded an entire village. You’d wondered if there was ever any likelihood of him being drawn to you, instead of one of the many other beautiful girls within proximity. You’d wanted to impress him.

Now, you just wanted him out of your fucking sight before you said something that would land you in more shit.

“You—”

The tavern’s front door flung open, hard enough to slam against the wall, abruptly severing your sentence.

All fell still and silent as every face looked up to take in the man who entered. Hair ripped from the knot at the back of his neck, and he was drenched in sweat, clothes rumpled and—

And saturated with blood.

There was a beat, and then everyone who crowded the small space appeared to collectively clock what they were seeing. A wave of gasps rippled through the room like a breeze.

“I—” the man’s eyes immediately landed on your father, as though it were him he searched for. “I tried to do something, but I was too late. I couldn’t—”

“What has happened?” Your father strode forward.

“I was too late,” he repeated. “I…I think you need to see this.”

Just like that, every member of your group was readying themselves to leave — to throw themselves straight into the unknown. Devin, too, rose.

But your father was wrenching round to face them, shaking his head. “I’ll take only a couple of you with me. The rest of you should stay here until I send word,” he angled himself towards your table. “Devin, Y/N — you’ll join me.”

“Me?” Your eyes widened. Granted, you didn’t know what, exactly, you’d be facing, but one look at the blood-drenched man at the entrance told you it was bad. You didn’t know nearly enough about fighting, or defending, or healing—

“Yes.” Your father’s tone brooked no room for argument. “You.”

There was no chance to protest as you were yanked out of your seat by Devin and pulled along with him while your father headed out of the door. Your heart raced in your chest as Devin helped you up onto his horse, and you were lurched into action.

All you could think was that you wished — so badly wished — to be back in the safety of the Bluebird Inn. And Azriel’s arms.

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You didn’t travel far. A few dirty, dusty roads brought you straight to a house that was mostly unassuming, no different to the houses in your village.

But the similarities stopped at the first scream that ripped through the night and had you violently flinching, had the horses panicking.

Devin dismounted with ease and promptly lifted you off, setting you on your feet at the exact same moment another scream sounded, thinning out into a strangled sob.

“Come.” Your father beckoned to you as Devin made quick work of tying the horses up.

But you couldn’t get your feet to move. You stayed firmly rooted to the spot as you shook your head. “I can’t go in there.”

“You can and you will,” he beckoned again. “Don’t let me down.”

With him in front of you and Devin now at your back, you felt you had no choice but to follow. The man that had burst into the tavern held the front door open, increasing the volume of what now seemed to be wailing sobs.

“I’ve heard of your cause,” he said quietly as your father stepped in first. “Which is why I think you should see this. So you can report back firsthand to the Queens.”

The entryway was just light enough to catch the incline of your father’s head. He said nothing as you were led through—

You stopped dead in the doorway of what seemed to be a dining room. So abruptly that Devin’s front collided with your back.

“Her name is — was — Dahlia.” The man inched towards the table, balling his fists at his sides. “She was only fourteen years old.”

“What happened?” Those two little words came from you — and you didn’t even realise it.

Because lying motionless on the table was the body of a young girl — from what you could make out beneath the injuries that covered her skin, anyway.

Her pallor was such a deathly white that you knew she was long gone. Her clothes were dirty, ripped…by what looked like claws. Chunks of flesh had been gouged out, her throat cut—

Your ears were ringing too loudly for you to think. But as your heart beat at a gallop, another cry rent the air, stealing your attention to the corner of the room.

“This is Marin,” the man breathed, moving closer to the woman who sat curled up and distraught in the corner. “Dahlia’s mother. She saw the attack with her own eyes.”

“Oh, gods,” you whispered. Devin’s hand landed on your shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze.

Your father took slow, careful footsteps towards the grieving mother. And the softness with which he knelt before her, laying a tentative hand atop of hers…it had your eyes stinging.

“My name is Marschal,” he introduced himself quietly. “I’m so sorry for what those monsters have taken from you. Your beautiful daughter is safe in the Beyond now. The fae can hurt her no more.”

Another soft cry shuddered out of Marin. But she nodded her head and answered, her voice watery, “I know who you are. What…what you do.”

“Then you’ll know why I’ve been brought here. What happened…it’s something I believe our queens should know about,” he paused. “If you’re able, I’d like to know exactly what it was you witnessed. As much as you can manage, of course.”

The request almost made you flinch. It seemed callous, somehow, when her child’s body was still right there on the table and hadn’t yet been sent back to the earth. But after a beat of Marin staring at your father through her tear-filled eyes, she offered the slightest dip of her chin.

“I…” Her voice wobbled. “I’ll try.”

“Devin,” your father murmured over his shoulder. “Fetch her a drink to steady her nerves.”

You were jostled ever so slightly forward as Devin slipped past you — too close to Dahlia’s poor, broken body than you could handle. You turned away, your feet numbly carrying you to Marin’s side. You took her hand into your own, and she didn’t object to the comfort.

In fact, her voice was a little steadier as she said, “It was just me and my Dahlia.” She inhaled slowly through her nose, steeling herself. Her eyes fluttered shut for the briefest second before they opened again. “We were returning home from visiting my sister in another village. It was such a nice night that we decided not to spend coin on transport. The walk was a bit lengthy, but we’d made it before. We knew which way to go.”

The story was momentarily interrupted by Devin re-entering the room and handing a glass of amber liquid to Marin. Her free hand trembled as she took it and lifted it to her lips. Beads of dark liquid coloured her pale lips as she swallowed it down and continued.

“Only, Dahlia insisted on cutting through a forest to look at some plants,” she whispered. “She’s into botany, you see — she was into botany.” A fresh wave of shuddering sobs threatened to overpower her, but somehow, she found the strength to tamp down on them. “So we went into the forest, but Dahlia, she…she had a habit of wandering off, and I got separated from her. It wasn’t for long. But when I found her again, she was with a man.”

Your father repeatedly softly, “A man?”

“I knew at once that it was a faerie. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. And Dahlia thought so, too. He was talking to her, and she had this glazed look in her eyes like she was somewhere else. He offered her his hand, and she took it. I knew in my bones that he was going to take her away from me, so I stepped forward, announced myself. I told Dahlia to come, that we were going home. The man answered for her in a voice like music.”

“What did he say?” you rasped.

“He said — he said that Dahlia would make a pretty wife for a faerie. That faerie men liked human brides. He said that she was coming back with him, across the wall. He asked her if she wanted to do that, and she said yes. I think he had her under some sort of spell. I could tell that it wasn’t my Dahlia talking. And I panicked. I stepped forward to grab her out of his arms, and he attacked. Immediately. It was all so quick, I couldn’t register what he was doing. But then he was disappearing before my eyes, and Dahlia was crumpling to the floor, and I knew…I could see she was gone.”

A keening, horrendous wail left her, and she was curling herself up so tightly — like she was trying to hold herself together. It was all you could do to grip onto her hand as she rocked back and forth and cried over and over and over, my Dahlia, my Dahlia, my Dahlia.

You waited for your father to say something else — to come up with an answer as to what might ease her suffering, if anything at all could.

But it was Devin who lowered himself to one knee before her. He placed a hand on her shoulder, his face gentle, open.

“Madam, the last thing I wish to do is cause you any more distress at such an awful time.” He spoke in the calm, sure way that all village guards did. “But I am a guard of the village from which my companions and I hail. Our girls have been suffering attacks at the hands of the fae, also. If, perhaps, you could describe the faerie you saw…who hurt your child…”

“He was beautiful, as I said,” Marin snivelled. “So beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him. Dark hair and golden-brown skin. Eyes that seemed to glow. That beauty made him easy for Dahlia to trust. He seemed kind. His voice was just as stunning as he was.”

“Their beauty,” your father supplied sympathetically, “is a calculated part of their thrall. Do not blame yourself nor your daughter for being allured by it. The fae know what they are doing.”

You did not hear whether the reassurance brought Marin any comfort. You didn’t catch what Devin then said to her, despite you looking right at him, watching his lips move.

Your mind was roaring, ears screaming. You felt…panic.

Their beauty is a calculated part of their thrall.

The fae know what they are doing.

So beautiful, it almost hurt to look at him.

Dark hair and golden-brown skin. Eyes that seemed to glow. He seemed kind. His voice was just as stunning as he was.

Faerie men like human brides.

You felt like you were going to be sick.

Was it so easy to be lured by the mere beauty of the fae?

Was that what Azriel had done to you?

Dahlia’s attacker had seemed nice to her…just as Azriel seemed nice to you.

And Dahlia was now lying lifeless and brutalised just inches away. Allured by a beautiful faerie. Like the other village girls. Like your mother. Like you—

You launched up, nausea turning your stomach. This was too much. If all fae were the same…if all of them were capable of this…

“What is it?” Devin asked. Your father didn’t speak; merely stared at you with an indiscernible expression.

“I need some fresh air, I’m sorry.” Feeling as though you were gasping for breath, you pushed through them, stumbled clumsily past Dahlia’s body and out of the room before they could stop you. You focused on forcing your legs forward, finding your way out of the house. Balmy summer air coaxed you towards it and had you practically falling out of the door.

What had you been thinking, having regular, secret meetings with a faerie who could tear you apart with his bare hands? Inviting him into your village, your home? Allowing yourself to think that he was somehow different? Finding ways to justify your involvement with him?

Azriel may not have been responsible for the attacks himself, but his kind were. You didn’t know him. Didn’t know what he was capable of. For all you were aware, your warming to him had been carefully manipulated by him, by magic. For all you were aware, he could have an extensive list of human girls that he’d softened and lured. He could be using you for something.

You didn’t want to think about what. Didn’t want to know.

What you did know was that you couldn’t see him anymore. Dahlia was some sort of sign that your dealings with the fae had to stop. What you had with Azriel needed to stop—

“It hits a little close to home, doesn’t it?” Your father’s soft voice reached you from the doorway. Amidst your reeling thoughts, you hadn’t heard him follow you out.

You sucked in a huge gulp of fresh air and pivoted to face him. “It does,” you agreed. “I’m sorry if I disappointed you by running out of there.”

He shook his head, took a step closer. “You have nothing to be sorry for. I felt it was necessary for you to see just what a single faerie was capable of. That doesn’t mean I expect you to be unfeeling and unaffected. That sight in there is…it’s terrifying. And gods, if it were you lying on that table—” he cut himself off, swallowing hard. It was a rare thing for him to share such sentiments with you. That was as close as he’d allow himself to get.

So you nodded, letting him know that you got it. He was terrified of you meeting the same fate that poor Dahlia had.

The moment hung between you, thick as the sticky night air. And then you were taking the plunge and asking the question that lived somewhere deep and heavy inside you, trying to claw its way out.

“Was it like that when Mama was attacked?” you studied your father, waiting for him to flinch, grimace, something. “When she was attacked by a faerie, did she…did she look much like Dahlia does?”

A gruesome question, and perhaps an unfair one.

But for the first time in your life, you needed to know — the gory details. How bad it had been.

Your father pursed his lips, staring back at you. For a moment, you thought he might not answer.

But then he shook his head. Shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked…vulnerable.

“No,” he answered, his voice laced with something you couldn’t grasp. “No. There was far less left of your mother after her attack. Nothing of the woman I had loved.”

Before you could answer, he turned and trudged back inside.

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Three weeks in a row.

Three weeks in a damn row, the curtains had remained shut at Y/N’s bedroom window.

Azriel thought his need to see her was starting to eat him alive.

But gods, he missed her. He missed her curiosity, that she did not seem to fear him. Missed that he could lose hours talking to her about everything and nothing. Missed her scent, the taste and feel of her lips—

He heaved a sigh, sprawling back in his bed and running a hand over the panes of his bare stomach. His blood thudded and thrummed in his veins. Burned too hot.

He knew, at least, that she was well, only from the rare glances he caught of her from the sky above the village. Seeing her and not being able to swoop down and speak to her was a whole torture of its own. But if the curtains were closed, that meant it wasn’t safe. The last thing he wanted was to get her into trouble.

Still, that didn’t stop his bones from feeling too hot with need, his heart too heavy—

Another quiet sight escaped him, the pads of his fingers stroking absentmindedly over his abdomen. It felt entirely out his control that his thoughts quickly ventured down the same avenue they’d been walking for three weeks, now. Yet again recalling that conversation he and Y/N had had when he’d last been with her. The broadened confidence that had lain within her actions.

She’d asked him about lovers. She’d kissed him deeply, yearningly, and had he not stopped her, she would have taken it further. He knew she would have — knew it from the way her scent had changed.

Gods, that scent. He was sure it had followed him everywhere these past weeks. It would drive him mad yet. The scent of fresh summer air and sweet, ripe apples. It was perfect, and mouthwatering, and Cauldron boil him, Azriel wanted more. A touch. A taste—

A low noise rumbled in his chest as his cock instantly hardened. This was why it was best to keep his mind occupied. Because as time went on, so too did his growing, strengthening, snowballing attraction for the human woman.

She was likely unaware of what affect she truly had on him.

With only the covers draped over his naked body, the light brush of the fabric against his hardened length was too much. He kicked them away, glancing down at his body’s reaction to the mere thought of Y/N. Nothing to do with him not having had sex for a while now.

All to do with the fact that he wanted Y/N. Badly.

He wrapped a hand around his cock, releasing a hushed moan at the touch. And as his thumb mopped up the precum at the head, and he began to pump slowly, languidly, he closed his eyes and imagined it was her hand that touched him.

That mental image threw the unhurried pace straight out of the window. Fantasies swarmed him as he writhed on the mattress and bit down on his husky, growling moans. Thoughts of Y/N stroking and squeezing and licking him, of her guiding him through his pleasure with filthy words and promises. Watching his length disappear between those perfect, full lips—

A shout shuddered out of him that he was too slow to suppress, his chest heaving as he emptied his cock onto his stomach. The pleasure was too much. He couldn’t think around it, couldn’t see anything but the stars that burst in his vision.

He didn’t know when he’d last cum so fast, so hard.

But somehow, he did know that no other woman, female, whatever, would ever be enough again. Only Y/N. He wanted Y/N.

He needed to find a way to see her.

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Resolving to have nothing more to do with Azriel did not, unfortunately, banish thoughts of him. Nor did it banish the feeling of missing him, missing what you’d grown comfortable with.

It was hard to go from looking forward to weekly rendezvous to just…nothing. No social interaction, besides what you got from behind the bar of the inn. No personal connections.

It was for the best, you told yourself. In the three weeks since you’d been on the road with your father and his men, those images of Dahlia’s broken body had not left your mind. They haunted you as thoroughly as the sounds of Marin’s cries and wails. As thoroughly as those words she’d spoken.

The most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

Azriel was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen. And while he may not have been responsible for Dahlia’s attack, or the attacks on the girls in your village…that didn’t mean he wasn’t capable.

The fae were a violent people. There was no getting around that. And you…you could not take that risk. No matter how much your heart yearned to do so, just to feel the touch of Azriel’s hands and hear the smooth lilt of his voice.

He was fae. You were human. It could never work.

So you kept your curtains closed, and you kept yourself busy. You knew Azriel must have wondered what was going on, why you’d been unavailable three weeks in a row. Soon enough, you told yourself, he was bound to get bored and seek connection with somebody else, and your brief brush with the fae would become a bizarre, distant memory.

You hoped.

Perhaps if you chanted it to yourself enough, it would come true.

But gods, you’d become so comfortable with him. Had found what felt like a real, genuine bond with somebody, like nothing you’d been able to experience before. It was no easy thing to return to loneliness, just you and the inn and your piano. Everything was suddenly too dull, too quiet.

At least your father hadn’t asked you to come on the road with him again.

His trips were getting longer, the further he ventured. Two days had stretched to four. You were more alone than ever.

Tonight, when the last of your customers had filed through the door, you were not in the mood to play piano, nor to read a book. Your frame of mind was a tricky one. You felt…restless and misplaced. Tired in your bones and yet wide awake and longing.

You tossed and you turned, kicking your sheets, writhing against your mattress until you were sticky with sweat. You wanted to pull back the curtains and wrench open the window, but…not at this hour. Not while Azriel might still be circling above, searching to see if you were available.

So in the dark, you let the hours tick by, waited for sleep to find you or…some semblance of peace. You listened to each chime of the village’s clock tower, making you aware of every hour you’d lain awake; one o’clock, two o’clock, three o’clock. No passing time made a difference. Restlessness still commanded your body until finally, you’d had enough.

It was nearing four o’clock by the time you threw your sheets off you and stormed out of your bed, exasperated and fed up — by your constant thoughts that would not leave you alone, and how they seemed to control everything. What were you to do without the few hours of oblivion that sleep afforded you?

Was even this some power of the fae…to command your mind and drive you mad with sleeplessness and restlessness until you were losing yourself entirely, becoming an empty shell who lived only to harbour feelings for an ethereal being who saw you as some sort of toy? Was your longing even real, or just the product of magic?

You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

Though still very much night, the darkness had lifted just slightly over the village with another summer morning rapidly approaching. Birds were beginning to wake and sing their songs. It wouldn’t be too long before the milkman ventured through the village with his wagon, leaving bottles at the residents’ doors.

If Azriel had tried to visit, he certainly wouldn’t be around any longer — not with the world waking up.

So you resigned yourself to the fact that you wouldn’t be sleeping. You threw a robe over your nightgown and trudged down the stairs, irritated and ill at ease. You headed straight for the back door, to your small yard that was just as grey and dull as everything else. At least the air would be fresh. Somewhat.

Though tinged with the smells of the countryside, it was nice to feel it wash over you. Cool, in the absence of the sun, and yet not cold. You slumped down onto the wooden bench against the wall and rested your head back, closing your eyes.

How, you wondered, had you been foolish enough to land yourself in such a predicament? How had you gone from being some human, village nobody, to brushing arms with the very beings you’d been raised to despise? It had to be magic that had weaved its way into your mind. Perhaps Azriel hadn’t meant to bewitch you, but he had. Perhaps it was some natural facet of his kind that he had no control over, that you’d fallen victim to. You’d heard stories of the kinds of fae who were love talkers — Gancanagh — whose sole magic was to pour sweetened words into women’s ears and so thoroughly seduce them until they were nothing more than their feelings. Could that be what Azriel was? Could he have—

A thud ripped you from your thoughts so abruptly that you jolted, your eyes flying open.

Just in time to see Azriel jump down from the opposite wall, feet landing smoothly on the cracked concrete ground of the yard.

You stared at him, knocked speechless, for a moment, by the mere sight of him. You couldn’t deny that you’d missed gazing upon his brilliance. The dark leathers and flawless appearance. The shadows.

But you quickly yanked yourself out of it, shaking your head. You would not be bewitched or love-talked or…whatever. Not again.

“It’s so good to see you,” Azriel breathed, cleaving the silence.

But you were up on your feet, still shaking your head, suddenly cold all over. “You can’t be here.”

“I checked the village before I came down,” he stepped closer. “All is fine—”

“No,” you interrupted. “You need to leave.”

He paused, seeming to take his time studying you. His brow furrowed at your guardedness, the way you crossed your arms over your chest and eyed the distance between yourself and the door.

“I don’t understand…” he murmured, taking a step closer. “Where have you been? What’s happened?”

The backs of your legs hit the bench in your attempt to back up. “None of that matters. You just need to stay away from me. Leave, and don’t come back.”

Surprise seemed to steal him so suddenly that it gave you an opening the move. You made to cross your way back to the door, to get yourself inside. Locks were no use against his ability to winnow, but at least you could find a weapon in there, should you need it.

But Azriel was stepping closer just as fast, his warm hand closing around your elbow in a gentle yet firm touch. Gods, you’d missed that touch—

“Don’t,” you snapped, recoiling. “Do not touch me—”

“Y/N, just look at me. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Why?” Pivoting to face him didn’t ease his grip even a little. “So you can charm me into believing you’re not dangerous?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, his eyes blazing. “I never claimed not to be dangerous. But I am not a danger to you.”

A brusque, almost hysterical laugh broke from you. “Resorting to faerie riddles? How convenient—”

“Y/N—”

“Let me go.”

This time, when you yanked your arm back, his hand fell. You didn’t wait around to see his reaction as you darted through the door and slammed it shut, locking it with trembling hands.

But when you turned, he was right there in front of you, in your fucking house. You backed yourself up against the door to stop your body colliding with his.

“Get out,” you breathed. “I mean it. Get away from me.”

Slowly, he rose his hands in a placating manner. There was pleading in his tone as he carefully bit out, “I just want to talk to you. Please. Tell me what I’ve done.”

You stared at him, pressing your palms flat against the door. It hurt so, so badly that you wanted to hear him out. Wanted to wipe that crestfallen, devastated expression from his face and hold his hand and talk to him and kiss him—

No, no, no. You shook your head, shook the thoughts away. Azriel watched with wide eyes.

“I am not a danger to you,” he said again, slowly lowering his hands. “But if that’s what you’re worried about…” smooth as a damn waltz, he unsheathed a blade, sharp enough to slice through the sky itself. He gripped the hilt, holding the beautiful weapon out to you. “Take this. It is the only thing I am currently armed with, and if at any point you feel in danger, you have my permission to stab me with it. I just want to talk.”

Your gaze flicked between the blade and his face, unsure and upset. Upset, because you knew that the longer you spent in his presence, spent listening to his voice, the harder it would be to remember the driving force behind your hostility. The harder it would be to convince him to leave and never return.

But perhaps the key to that was not being hostile towards him, but rather, making him hostile towards you. That would be easier. You had never been completely honest with him — about who your father was. Maybe fessing up to the fact that you’d joined him in his campaign would be enough to anger Azriel into leaving.

You jerked your chin at the blade, squaring your shoulders. “Place it on the floor and step away.”

He didn’t hesitate. A shadow snaked out, coiling around the dagger and easing it to the floor with barely a noise. And then Azriel stepped back, and back, and back. Until he was pressed against the wall opposite you.

He didn’t move an inch as you reached for the knife and took it into your hand. The feel of it was weighty and foreign — and beautiful.

“I just want to talk to you,” Azriel said again, his voice gritty. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what…what’s changed.”

You met his eyes, squaring your shoulders as you admitted, “I wasn’t completely honest with you.”

His face showed no reaction. He didn’t even stir. Just stared back at you and spoke clearly, carefully. “Alright. Talk me through that.”

“We once discussed a band of humans who are raising a cause against the fae. Do you remember?”

“I do.”

“I never told you that it is my father who set up the cause. He is the one behind the campaigns. He is the one who takes his men village to village and spreads word of the evil deeds of the fae. He’s behind it all.”

A heavy silence filled the space between you. Azriel stared at you, his expression unreadable. This was the moment he would curse you for keeping the truth from him. The moment he would leave and never look back.

Except, all he did was nod his head once. Like you’d merely offered him a droll comment about the weather.

“Do you not understand what I’m telling you?” you pushed. “I sat up on that hill with you and discussed the matter when I knew the entire time who you were talking about. What they were doing. I deceived you. Kept it from you.”

“There are things you don’t know about me, too,” he answered quietly. “Things that I, for certain reasons, have not told you yet. I would be foolish to assume the same wouldn’t be the case for you,” he stared at you, head-on. Unflinching. “I know better than anybody, Y/N, that you cannot help who or what you come from. I won’t judge you for it, just as I’ve asked you not to judge me.”

Gods, he was so damn reasonable. So much more…worldly and mature, than the human men you knew in the village.

Then again, Azriel had centuries of life on them.

“I’m not angry that you didn’t tell me,” he studied you. “I can understand why you’d be cautious—”

“My father took me on his campaign three weeks ago. Took me on the road with him and his men.”

 It was that which seemed to really stop Azriel in his tracks. Something — the slightest thing, a tiny reaction — flared in his eyes. You weren’t sure what it was.

Good. This was good. Maybe now he would get the point, that you and he needed to stop seeing each other.

“Night after night, I sat and listened to what my father had to say. To what he knows,” your hand gripped hard at the knife’s hilt, like it was the only thing grounding you and making you able to speak. “None of it was stuff I hadn’t heard before. I even resented listening to it. I curled myself up in a corner and repeated to myself over and over that whatever was being said, you were not like that. You were not the kind of fae of which my father spoke.”

Azriel’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I am not. Just as I told you.”

“I found it frustrating to hear him tarnish all of your people with the same stories when you had proved to me otherwise. That some fae could be good. That I had been ignorant. And then,” a short laugh rasped out of you, “and then, as if the universe was trying to send me some sort of message, a man came looking for us and said we needed to accompany him somewhere. And we did. My father, a member of his group, and myself. We followed this man to a house in that village, and I knew it was bad from the other end of the street. I could hear the cries coming from within that house, the wailing.”

That information was met with a wall of silence — as though Azriel was biting back his words and waiting for you to finish your story before he would deign to speak. Even if the rigid set of his shoulders told you he desperately wanted to do otherwise.

“There was a girl’s body in that house.” Merely recalling the image of Dahlia had a lump rising in your throat. You silently begged your eyes not to tear up. “The body of a fourteen-year-old girl. A child. A fae male had attacked her, and her poor mother had seen the entire thing.”

Azriel swallowed. “That’s awful—”

“She told us exactly what she saw. Described the faerie to us. How he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, with dark eyes and golden skin and such a charming demeanour. How her daughter hadn’t stood a chance, because he was already weaving his way into her mind and appealing himself to her. Making her think that he was no threat. Because his beauty, his allure, was above anything else.”

“And…what are you saying?” Azriel asked bleakly. “That you think it was I who attacked that girl—?”

“No, but it was a faerie! It’s always the fucking fae!”

The words left you so angrily, so loudly, that you realised you’d been waiting for someone to yell them at. That they burned inside you, and they hurt. You felt…foolish. Betrayed.

And Azriel appeared to read all of that on your face. He swallowed again, hard, balling his fists at his sides like it took everything in his power to hold himself back and not approach you.

“I never once denied that faeries are capable of such atrocities,” he stared at you. “Not once. I simply asked you to acknowledge that there is good and bad in all people, whatever we are. It’s not as black and white as the fae just being bad.”

“And yet,” your voice was cold, “I haven’t been presented with anything to say otherwise.”

That might have been a low blow. You were guessing it was, from the way Azriel physically flinched, before schooling his features.

Because he…he was evidence of good, wasn’t he? He certainly had been, before the situation with poor Dahlia. He’d shown you that he was tender and soft, patient and kind. It had been enough for a while.

But you had more or less just said that it had never been enough at all. And that seemed to bother him more than anything else.

“You and I are worlds apart,” you added, sounding weaker. “Whatever or whoever you are…we simply have no business getting involved with one another.”

“That’s bullshit.” In a flash, Azriel was pushing off the wall. He strode forward a couple of steps, before thinking better of it and stopping in his tracks. Ferocity turned his golden skin a ruddy hue. “I don’t care what sides of the wall either of us fall on. What matters is that I feel right around you. I feel alive because of you. If we have no business getting involved, tell me why I cannot sleep for having constant thoughts about you. Tell me why you have consumed me as though you have bewitched me.”

You blinked, almost — almost — wanting to laugh. The description was one you absolutely had fitted to him. To consider that he’d come to the same conclusion about you—

“I swear to you that I have never used any sort of faerie sway to appeal myself to you,” he continued. “What we feel for one another is genuine. I keep coming back to you because I ache for you. And I don’t judge you one bit for thinking badly of my kind — especially after what you saw on your father’s trip. It’s awful, and I abhor what was done to that girl. But I beg of you, Y/N — please. Do not paint me in the same light.”

Each word pelted you like hailstones, the impact of them sending a shiver coursing down your spine. So quickly, your body wanted to falter, to fold, to go marching over to him. It took every shred of effort to stand your ground and grip onto the knife as though your life depended on it.

“I’m not trying to invalidate what you’ve seen, what you’ve experienced.” Azriel took another slight step forward. “I would never. I just…I ask you to give me one more chance to prove that there is another side to the coin. That good can exist as well as bad.”

You pointed the blade towards him, stopping him in his tracks. But you lifted your chin as you asked, “How? How would you prove that? I don’t want any faerie trickery.”

“And there would be none. I want to show you…for you to see with your own eyes…”

“…see what?”

“The good that I know. The good that I live amongst.” Pleading lay within his eyes. “Just give me one more night. One more night of your time to take you into my world. To show you more of myself. And if you still want nothing more to do with me…” Slowly, he shook his head, as though he could hardly bear the thought. “Then I will find a way to accept it, and you will never have to see me again.”

You shook — trembled — with the effort to rein yourself in. You didn’t understand this carnal…thing, deep inside you, that was drawing you to him. Like a thread in your body, connected to one in his, begging you to close the gap and go to him.

You rocked on your feet, eyeing him with none of the anger you’d felt moments before, and all of the caution at how he so often made you feel. Like you wanted to be in front of him. To touch him.

“I don’t…understand what you’re suggesting,” you said slowly.

Azriel took a single, tiny step closer. You didn’t stop him. “Let me take you across The Wall for one night. A few hours, if that’s all you’re willing to give. To my city, my home. Let me introduce you to my family. To everyone and everything that reminds me how much good exists amongst my kind, even when I sometimes doubt it myself.”

“Across The Wall—?”

“It would be entirely safe.” Another step, closing that gap between you. “I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you. And if we get there and you don’t even want to talk to me, you don’t have to. I just…I just want you to see. You deserve to see the good.”

So many feelings warred inside you at once. Intrigue, curiosity, fear — such raging fear. Excitement. Maybe…maybe a little bit of hope.

Hope that you could still be proved wrong. Because you still wanted to be proved wrong.

You didn’t want to let Azriel go.

Swallowing hard, your eyes shuttered. What he was asking of you was huge, and that wasn’t even considering the logistics of how you would do it. “I don’t…know if I could.”

With another step, Azriel was close enough to touch. The familiar scent of him was almost enough, alone, for you to fold. The hand that held the blade lowered entirely without your willing.

“Why don’t you take the day to think about it?” Hazel eyes were a long-awaited caress against your face. “Your father is away for another night yet, isn’t he?”

Your gaze clashed with his abruptly. “How do you know that?”

Quickly, he held his hands up. “Just going by the pattern of his previous trips, that’s all. He doesn’t usually return until the weekend.”

Right. Perhaps you were being a little bit paranoid. You forced yourself to relax a little.

“Yes,” you concurred. “He’s away for another night.”

Azriel’s chin dipped. “So…how about this? You take the day to think my offer over. If you decide you want to accept and come with me, I’ll be waiting for you above. At midnight, on the dot. If you decide you don’t, and you do not want anything else to do with me…well, like I said, I’ll find a way to accept it somehow.”

You knew your resolve was already slipping, leaning more towards what felt right, rather than…that what you’d been raised to believe was right.

And it wasn’t as though it was an unreasonable offer. You believed that Azriel could keep you safe either side of The Wall. Your wellbeing wasn’t what concerned you in the slightest.

You supposed that it was that if you were to go along with this…there would likely be no turning back. You’d so far merely dipped your toe into the world of the fae.

Crossing The Wall would be like submerging yourself in it.

“Take the day to think about it,” Azriel said again, studying you closely. “All I ask is that you do think about it…properly. Don’t just…don’t just write me off. Please, Y/N. I couldn’t bear it.”

Something in his voice smothered that last shred of doubt that tried to hold you back. Your own voice was quiet as you replied, “Alright. I’ll think about it.”

In front of you, his shoulders seemed to slump with something like relief. Pleading still lay within his eyes. You weren’t sure, in that moment, if you could handle staring back at it.

So you instead held the knife out to him, ripping your gaze away. “You can have this back.”

“Don’t want to stab me?” he said, and your lips threatened to quirk up. You forced the smile away as he took the weapon back and sheathed it.

“I’ve yet to decide. I’ll spend the day contemplating that, too.”

So easy, to fall back into the natural rapport you had with him. Azriel didn’t bother to bite down on his smile.

But the smile then faltered, and worry clouded his eyes. “I really do hope you’ll give me another chance.”

“Why?” you blurted. “Why me?”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. And then he stepped away from you. Something in his stance told you he was readying himself to disappear.

“I’ll tell you why, if you come across the wall with me,” he said, his eyes meeting yours. “I want to be transparent with you. But I have to protect my heart, too.”

“You—”

“Just think on it,” he spoke softer, gentler. “And get some sleep, Y/N.”

Before you could respond, a breeze rippled through the room, tinged with the smells of winter.

And just like that, you were alone.

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

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[weirdo-fun]

Could you pretend you love me? Pt.1

Soap x Fem Reader (single mom).

Let me introduce Mr. And Mrs. Blackwood, the newlyweds and new neighbors.

This is just the alibi, a false marriage with normal jobs and a normal and traditional family, Why? Oh, just to take a look at the enemy.

Warning: only grammatical and spelling errors.

Pt 2

You and Soap argue all the time, for everything and for nothing, both work well together but before every successful mission there's always a previous discussion.

The boys are accustomed already so they just let you argue and complain. «I told you we don't want to attract attention, we will be discreet!» «we need to create a distraction so they can take the hostage without someone noticing!» «No!» «Yes!»

Price acted like a Father trying to stop two teenagers, every time. Both of you are efficient but also a headache.

This time is not different. Price already explained to you the mission, observe, get close to the enemy, put some hidden cameras or microphones, trackers, all the necessary to obtain information and capture them. That was the easy part, the hard part was Price's proposition.

- What? Sorry cap, but I think Ghost or Gaz or even you, would play a better role than Soap.

«Oh no, here we go again» ghost and Gaz muttered while rolling their eyes.

- Excuse me? You don't know what you're talking about y/n. I'm such a perfect husband material.

- You're everything but a husband. Seriously Captain, we have to considerate someone else. Also I have my daughter, what will I do with her?

- Y/n, I understand you're mother now, but I also know the girl is in a private school... A boarding school, am I right? she will be fine and if she needs to visit I'm sure she won't be in danger, that could help us a little.

You simply nodded but then you stared at soap, you observed him head to toe, you're sure he's not the right person for this kind of mission, his hairstyle, his personality, you think he's inadequate.

-Alright... but... He's not the right person for this mission, that's all I'm saying.

Soap is not angry, he's actually making fun of this, he put a hand over his chest and opened his mouth, pretending to be offended by your comment.

- Y/n, I feel offended, I'm a very charming man, clearly I'm the best option. The lieutenant is too serious, he certainly won't be very friendly with our target, Gaz is maybe an option, but there's not much chemistry between you and him as a fake couple and our Captain... He simply has better missions to attend.

«Agree» «Sorry Y/n, Soap's right» «he'll do it fine, trust him»

You just rolled your eyes, you feel ridiculous trying to make them understand your point of view.

A few days later after that discussion, you were looking for someone around the base. Emma, your almost 7 year old daughter, was visit day and you couldn't get a nanny for her so you brought her with you to the base, the little girl is now lost and you're desperate to find her.

- Did you Lost something Sergeant?

Ghost's voice took you by surprise, his giant form always makes you a little bit anxious.

- Ah! Ghost, I mean Lieutenant, I... I'm actually looking for my daughter... I told her to stay in my office but she disappeared.

And just behind him, Emma appeared, holding your lieutenant's hand.

- I think I found her.

You kneeled in front of your girl and hugged her.

- Emma, why did you do that? I told you, you can't walk around here alone.

- But Y/N, I wanted to explore!! Ghost found me, he accompanied me, he's very sweet.

You stood up and took your little girl's hand.

- I'm sorry Lt; thanks for finding her.

You started to walk back to your office while Emma muttered to you «I think Ghost is very handsome...» you sighed «you're just like your mother...».

Indeed, Emma is the mini version of your best friend, you miss her, her loss was the most painful moment of your life, but Emma needed someone, your friend always said you would be her Legal representative if one day the worst happened. Now after a year, you're trying to be a mother for the little girl.

Both were getting ready to leave the base when a Knock on your door interrupted, Emma ran to open, it was Soap.

- Y/n, I just came to give you the files with the location of the house and other important stuff, oh, I think it would be good if we arrive together...like a happy family.

- Thanks Soap, ah... Can we discuss all this later?, I have to take her back to school...

You pointed at Emma who's still on the door observing at Soap with sparkling eyes, you continued talking.

-This is Emma, my daughter. Emma, this is my friend Johnny.

Johnny smiled at the little girl and shook hands with her.

- Heyyy, future daughter, Ghost told me about you, you're certainly a sunshine.

Emma blushed but instantly the curiosity captivated her.

- Future daughter? Are you Y/N's boyfriend? Have you seen Ghost's face? I think he has beautiful eyes.

Your red face was enough to make Soap's laugh, but he was quick to respond.

- I guess your mommy will talk to you about this later, and Yes, I've seen my lieutenant's face, not so bad but I think I'm more... Attractive.

He blinked an eye at Emma and then to you, he said goodbye and disappeared. On your way to Emma's school you explained to her what Soap was talking about, you never saw her so happy, excited to 'help' you in this mission.

While she was at school, you packed all your clothes and some stuff necessary to take to your temporary home. Soap was kind and went to your apartment to help you with the boxes, after all, it was better if both arrived together.

It was a short drive, you also discovered the location is not so far from Emma's school, the house is not so big but also not so small, white and yellow with a beautiful garden, certainly looks perfect for a family. Before leaving the car you decided both needed to put some rules.

- First of all, when Emma is around don't insult or say a bad word

- Copy...

- Second, we will sleep in the same bed... But, if you get close enough I will send you to sleep on the floor, okay?

- Fair enough.

Why is he so calmed? It is annoying how he simply smiles and is not complaining? You're not understanding what he is trying to do.

- And... Why are you agreeing to everything I'm saying?

- You said I'm not husband or dad's material, I will show you you're wrong my sweet wife... Let's start the show, Sweetheart!

He opened the door and got out of the car, you stayed speechless and followed him, he handed you the keys to open while he was bringing the boxes with you and his stuff.

You wanted to help but he refused, you were starting to complain when a man, your new neighbor, and technically the enemy, appeared, smiling pretending to be nice.

- I want to help! You're being a...

- Hello there! welcome to the neighborhood!

Both looked at him, he started to walk to you, Soap put the box on the floor and held your waist softly, you didn't know why but you felt shivers.

- Hey, thanks man! I'm John and this is my wife y/n

- it's really good to have new neighbors, I'm Jeff. I live in the house next to yours, feel free to visit whenever you want.

- Oh man, you live in a palace, it's a wonderful house!

- I Know, I think it is a good place to raise kids.

-Certainly it is, not only the house but the entire neighborhood, that's why my wife wanted to buy this house, no baby?

He kissed your forehead and squeezed your waist softly, you jumped in surprise.

- Oh, yes, sorry, I'm distracted by all this beauty, I can't wait to start to unpack! Jeff, how long have you been living here?

- I moved here 6 years ago, it's wonderful, my son loves this place, do you have children?

- Ah...

- Yes, our little princess, Emma, she's not here but will visit us soon, she's excited to see her new bedroom.

- Oh, where's she?

You started to worry, you never thought about the real danger you were putting on the little girl, but before you could think about a good lie, Soap spoke for both.

- She's visiting my parents, they have a small farm and Emma loves the horses.

- I see, well, I hope I can meet her soon, my son will be happy to have a new friend...

- For sure, Anyway, it has been a pleasure to meet you Jeff, we have too much work to do, we want to end all early, to have some time for us.

Jeff, was looking at both, there was something in his eyes that made you think he wasn't very convinced, You hugged Soap by his waist and put your head over his chest

- Ah yes, it has been a pleasure Jeff, but as my husband said, we have to hurry up if we want to... you know, do some newly married things.

He nodded and started to walk to his house, before you could speak again, Soap carried you and yelled «Home sweet home, my lady» you made a loud fake laugh and tried to make some sweet comments. Once the door was closed you jumped from his arms and looked for your phone and sent an encrypted text to Price. «Phase 1, Success, we'll start to install security around the house and ASAP we'll try to install microphones and trackers on the enemy». Soap was quick, he started to work in all the security system, you were surprised when you saw him installing on Emma's room.

- What are you doing Soap?

He looked at you and continued his work, you noticed Emma's room was the safest around the house. Then, his voice caught your attention.

- If your daughter will be staying here some days, I want to be sure she will be safe, you and her are my responsibility at the moment, it means that keeping us safe is my priority, more than spying on the enemy.

You blushed, his words caused you goosebumps and a strange feeling in your stomach, you weren't sure about why you were feeling all that so you decided to say thanks and leave the room.

- Thanks Jhonny, umm, dinner will be ready soon, wash your hands.

- I'll be there in a minute.

You ran out of the room, your heart beat was racing, after the dinner both were working a little, talking about your daughter and when she will visit you, it was strange for you, but for a moment you forgot this was all fake.

[weirdo-fun]

His Shadow pt.2 Azriel x Reader

a/n: all the feedback from the last fic is insane! I can’t even express the joy all of the comments bring me, the kind words mean so much!!! I'm so happy this concept is liked, I definitely want to explore more with it:)) I hope you enjoy!! <333

1.8k words

synopsis: azriel makes a deal with himself to get his shadows back

Warnings: angst, fluff

pt.1

He’d gotten so used to you being there, so comfortable with the shadows that always surrounded him. 

Now that they were gone—now that you were gone—he was left with an inescapable feeling. Loss. 

It felt like lead in his body. It twisted, and turned, weighing itself down on his ribs. Aching at every little thing he began to notice, the little things you did for him. The things he’d taken for granted. 

He missed the way your darkness covered him like a protective blanket. Missed the ease it brought him. Without it, he felt bare. 

He missed your voice, your whispers. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough he could almost hear it. Almost. He’d never taken the time to memorize it. Never took the time to see beyond what was on the surface. Why hadn’t he? 

How did he disregard you?

You, the first to show him compassion, apart from his own mother. You, who suffered with him in that cold keep, locked away. Unable to grow, to learn, to live. 

You were there for him, with him. 

How could he have overlooked you?

He holds on to your words, the idea that you would answer if he called brought him only a fraction of the comfort you gave him daily. 

You weren’t really gone, he kept telling himself. He’d see you again. 

When it was necessary. 

No longer would you whisper a good morning to him when he woke, or a goodnight when he slept. No longer would you be there, just to be with him. Just to rest on his shoulders, or weave between his fingers. 

He’d used you, like a tool. Like you were just another weapon in his arsenal. 

The pain in his chest swelled, twinging as the image of misery on your breathtaking face invaded his mind. The awful things he’d said, the hateful accusation he’d made. 

You cared so greatly for him, for so long, only to receive cruelty in return. 

How had he ever thought your absence poetic? 

Being away from him was a physical struggle. The need to be there for him, to comfort him, to apologize, and to express your faith in him was undying. You were surprised you’d lasted a full day. 

No matter how he treated you, no matter how much it hurt, he’d always be everything. 

Yet you kept hearing his words. ‘Are you jealous? Is that it?’ Kept seeing that angry glare he’d aimed at you, and how it melted away when you’d taken form. ‘Because I don’t give you enough attention?’

You kept remembering the change in his eyes, in the way he looked at you. Like he’d just then realized you had a mind of your own, that he didn’t have to think for you. 

You’d thought it would make you happy. To have him really see you. 

It didn’t. 

You felt anger and sorrow. Angry you practically had to spell it out for him. Angry the most observant person in the Night Court, if not all of Prythian, had never spared you a second glance. Sad that you had to look like him to get his attention. 

You'd given him every opportunity, you'd shown him your capacity for emotions countless times. He ignored it every single time. No, ignore wasn't right.

Ignorant.

Ignorant was the better word.

Perhaps it was your fault for expecting more of him. 

In the beginning, his neglect hadn’t even mattered. You didn't realize he treated you any differently. That is until you saw him interact with Rhys and Cassian, and then eventually Mor and Amren. 

With them, he was… still distant, closed off in a way. But he smiled, he laughed, he joked. He empathized with them, got angry for them, or sad, or happy. He loved them.

With you, it was just, find me this… bring me here…  go listen to them… keep me hidden… 

He never smiled at you. 

It was your own fault for expecting him to think of you as anything other than a servant. 

That’s what you are, right?

The need to grovel at his feet came back. You felt ridiculous. You lived to serve him. Without him you wouldn’t even have a life. 

You were such a fool, living darkness throwing a fit over some hurt feelings.

He was the only reason you were able to feel anything at all. He gave you meaning. He was your purpose in life, not the other way around. He had no obligation to you, he didn't even have to call on you. The fact that he did was a gift in itself. Just like the pain you felt was a gift.

Without him, you’d just be a regular shadow. 

That should be enough for you. 

So when you heard his call, when you felt that irresistible tug on your soul, you answered. 

You answered though you knew he had no reason for it. He wasn’t in danger, he didn’t want to go anywhere, didn’t need you to spy on anyone or find anything, he was just calling you. 

You answered because no matter what you said, no matter how you felt, he would always be everything. 

Azriel waits for you. Standing in the center of his room, shifting his balance from his right leg to his left. 

He couldn’t keep his hands still, they ran through his hair, adjusted his shirt, got stuffed in his pockets only to leave them a moment later and rub at his neck. His arms cross in an effort to keep them still. 

He was anxious, and restless, and nervous about messing up, but most of all he was angry at himself. 

He wouldn’t be surprised if you ignored his call, even though you said you couldn’t. You’d probably found a way, after all he’s done he wouldn’t blame you.��

It would hurt like hell, but he’d understand. Why would you bother giving him a second chance? 

He’d never even asked you for a name. 

Did you even have one? Do shadows need names? They obviously have a language, one he was able to speak and understand. Did you have a family? A people? Were you born or did you just appear one day? 

These were all things he should’ve known already. Things he should’ve had the mind to be curious about. 

He was too focused on himself and everyone else.

The lights dim, announcing your presence. 

His arms uncross, falling at his sides. You really came. 

Swirls of darkness slip into his room, slowly inching toward him. The way they move is lethargic. It makes him sick.

He speaks when you make it within a foot of him. Pushing past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry.” 

The shadows stop. Gone was the mighty spymaster. All that remained was the boy who cried out to you on that cold night several centuries ago.

“I’m so sorry.” He repeats. “You don’t have to accept my apology. I don't want you to. I know I haven’t earned it. I just want you to know that If I could go back and change everything I would.” The words were nothing but the truth. He wished more than anything to go back and treat you right. To erase all the hurt he put you through.

His heart jumps when you continue toward him, slithering up his body, encasing him in your energy. 

He feels you curl around his ear, and then he hears your voice. That airy tone reverberating through his head. A sound only he could hear. Only he could appreciate. One he hadn't until he knew what it was like to lose it. 

“I forgive you.”  

Azriel wanted to weep at those words. For you. For him. For what he’d done to the two of you. For what the two of you could’ve been if he’d just sacrificed a little of his time to be with you. Like you always had for him.

“No, you don’t,” He began, “I don’t deserve your forgiveness.” 

The lights flicker, once, twice, then he feels it. Your hand.

His gaze trails down to watch your smokey fingers lace with his. The feeling of your skin touching his had his heart racing for other reasons. Very different from the chill of your shadows.

He lets his hand curl around your own. Squeezing as he went on, hoping you could hear and feel every last drop of his sincerity. “I could apologize to you every day for the rest of our eternal lives and I still wouldn’t deserve it.” 

You step in front of him, meeting his stare. The emotion it held stitched something back together inside of you, something that'd gotten torn apart years ago.

“I will do everything in my power to change that. I promise.” His thumb rubs circles on your hand. “I will spend the rest of my life proving that I am worthy of you. That you chose right.”  He felt his body tingle with each word, the sensation traveling down his arms, his chest, and his back. Ink undoubtedly marking his skin with a visual reminder of the deal he’d just made with himself.

To strive to one day earn your forgiveness. Your loyalty. 

You reach out a hand resting it on his face, so faintly it barely even touched him. Afraid you were overstepping.

He leans into it, covering it with his own, holding it there.

Your mind drifts back to when you met him.

His small voice, crying out for anyone. 

The strength of the Gods couldn’t have kept you from him.  

You didn’t choose wrong. You knew that. It didn't matter if he believed it or not.

“I swear it.” He vows, bringing you back to the present. His hazel eyes so intense, so sure, burning into your own. You couldn't help yourself.  

You kissed him. 

His lips connect with yours and everything stops. Everything fades away until it’s just you and him.  

He knew he’d never stop chasing the feeling it gave him. Something so simple, so easy, like breathing or gravity. Something he couldn’t live without. Not now that he’d had a taste. 

One of his hands land on your waist, pulling you closer. The other leaves your hand to find purchase on the back of your neck, angling your head to deepen the kiss. 

It was euphoric, he wanted to get lost in it, in you. 

You pull away when his tongue brushes over your bottom lip, needing a moment to breathe.

Your eyes remain shut for a moment, stuck in that feeling. When you finally pry them open you study his face, taking in every detail, committing every single bit to memory. 

He's breathing heavily, scanning you with a hunger you’ve never seen before. Eyes darting all over your face, repeatedly drifting back to your lips as if he too was struggling with restraint. 

Then he smiles. Pure elation on his beautiful face. 

The sight was divine. 

You copied the action, smiling wide. You didn’t care if it looked or felt unnatural. You were just happy. 

Happy to be his shadow. 

taglist <33: @sidthedollface2 @mischiefmanagers @theravenphoenix26 @leeknows-wife @fxckmiup

[weirdo-fun]

Cod guys

Okay, Sooooo

I don’t know what this is per say, just

John Price x Florist!reader

Kyle Garrick x Dog-walker!reader

John Mactavish x Nurse!reader

Simon Riley x Preschool-teacher!reader

Price first!!!

This old dog is not having a good day. The first time you two meet? He’s looking to order a sympathy piece… a fallen solider. So, he’s not in the best mood when he enters your shop.

Then, you come out the back with your sweet smile. It feels like lip balm on chapped lips, soothing the cracks splintering his heart in this moment.

“Hi, I’m *Name*. Welcome, how can I help you?” With a soft look on your face.

Fuck him, he needs the kindness. You’re so understanding when he tells you, not overly patronizing just… kind. Understanding. You’d have to be, having to make arrangements and funeral pieces as much as you do.

While you’re quickly piecing the arrangement together you talk to him, just a natural flow of conversation. He does pause when you ask. “What do you want in the arrangement? What would you like it to look like?” “Sympathetic?” And you laugh. “Fair enough.”

He likes that laugh.

You hand him the arrangement and tell him how to take care of the flowers to make them last longer. Then give him this sweet, sweet encouraging smile…

Yeah, he comes back a week later. Up front asks: “You want to get dinner Love?” Makes you flush, your co-workers in the back giggling until you shoo them away. “That sounds lovely.”

‘Love really does bloom, doesn’t it?’ He muses.

Generally? Your life together is sweet.

You’re together for about a year before he proposed. He’s a man, he’s old enough to know what he wants. He wants to wake up with you ever morning with the safety of that ring around your finger. That, if anything ever happens to him? He could still provide even in his absence…

You hate it when he talks like that but, accept that you need to be realistic… deep down? It makes you feel loved. A painful, sorrowful, love.

He helps you when he can. Whenever he’s home? He’s at your shop helping you get any extra work done so you can spend as much time together as you can while he’s not deployed.

You need help assembling an arbor for a wedding? He uh- he has carpentry skills… let him help, love. He builds you the sturdiest arbor in the industry!

Deliveries? He’ll run those, he’s got time. He doesn’t mind. Warms his heart a bit to do some good delivering flowers to people… they get so happy when he shows up with flowers.

He helps you set up the flowers at weddings! He also refuses to do anything that puts him within the vicinity of the bride and her party! They mistook him as a stripper once, never again. Never again. He’s a happily married man, thank you very much!

What kind of male stripper wears a hat like his any way? Wrangler jeans and a L.L Bean shirt that’s probably older than the bride!!! It was actually very cute to see how steamed he was after that…

You make sure to give HIM flowers. Most men don’t get flowers until their funeral … You don’t want that to be John. He melts a little when you bring himself home flowers you arranged yourself just for him.

You’ve looked up and seen him leaning on the table with a rose between his teeth. As soon as you made eye contact, he wiggles his brows. It made you crack up, he did it just for that reason. A rare moment of silliness from your John.

Will judge other brides choices when you bring home the files for the weddings you’re hired for. But, nothing will ever compare to your wedding to him in his eyes because your wedding was the best. Ever.

He saved your bouquet, dried it and framed it. Gave it to you as an anniversary present.

He then played your wedding song and you two slow danced in a circle together…. Sigh…

Gaz!:

Kyle was on his morning run when he saw you. Across the street with a few dogs, you looked so fucking happy, that made you look so fucking pretty.

You’re wearing an over sized t-shirt, sweatpants and look frazzled as you wrangle 4 dogs at once. You don’t even notice the Adonis across the street as you try and regain steady footing as the dogs all do their best to keep you on your toes.

Brock the 3 year old yellow lab was a puller… and he is CHONKY so you didn’t have much time to pay attention to anything else.

Kyle now tries to ‘bump’ into you. Timing his run to make a meet cute happen. Fuck him if he’s already done his run and doesn’t see you only to spot you once he’s on his door step sweaty and gross! EVERY TIME!

He’ll try and go again even though his legs are burning. This? This stunt catches the dogs attention, not yours. You’ve got 5 today and they HAUL ASS to go see Kyle. And you’re just dragged to his feet.

“Oh my god! I’m so sorry! They’re all friendly, I swear!” You wheeze, Kyle laughs. “Don’t worry Luv! S’fine. It’s cute,” He’s not looking at the dogs, despite the Jack Russell ‘Shermie’ making eyes at him.

Ah ha! Kyle has ingratiated himself! He get’s so pumped as soon as he gets home! You invited him to walk with you! ‘Anytime!’ Fuck yeah! He does a fist pump and dances foot to foot.

He finds dogs are a good judge of character and, these dogs? They love you. And you are devoted to them despite them not being yours. He finds those qualities incredibly attractive.

Generally? You two are cute.

He’ll take the high energy dogs on jogs for you when you meet up. He can keep up with them! *subtle flex*

He despite his athleticism? He likes the small, slow dogs. Like the blind, cross eyed Shi tzu ’Louie’ and the grumpy old Bassett ‘Geraldine’

It gave him ample time to walk leisurely and talk to you… You, Gaz and Geraldine went on many walks together.

He love, love, loves whenever you send him a selfie of you and one of the dogs! He’s got a whole folder of them and the newest picture you send? That one is always his newest Lock Screen.

Has worn a dog papoose and, has carried a dog while wearing a dog papoose. He is not ashamed, you thought he looked cute. And he takes all compliments of any kind. Hell yeah he looks cute, thanks baby!

He loves those prissy little toys. ‘Teddy’ the Pomeranian is one of his favorites, Teddy just loves being held. Oh, Kyle looks so attractive holding that spoiled little poof… he’s so sweet and caring with it too. Fuck!

He holds you if one of your regulars dies. Losing an animal is hard, especially when you’d been walking that dog since it was a puppy… he’s here luv, it’s okay. His eyes are misty too because, he cared for that dog too.

He get’s a Bassett stuffed animal, ‘R.I.P Geraldine, you helped me find something worthwhile.’

He proposes to you that night.

You have a little Bassett hound topper on your cake as a small tribute to the dog that helped you get closer…

He will and HAS gotten between you and an aggressive dog. He doesn’t like hurting animals but, fuck if he was going to left anyone hurt his baby and her charges! Tries to beat the piss out of the owner.

His wedding gift to you? A dog. Not just any dog! He wanted to get you one that will keep you safe while he’s deployed and one that will help you handle your charges. So he get’s you a very highly trained Belgian malinois.

Her name is Gracie and she helps you both sleep better at night…

Soap!:

Oh, oh Soap. He get’s lambasted during a mission and gets put into hospital. His nurse? An over tired, over worked, grumpy woman who will not put up with Tom-fuckery during her shift.

In rolls in Soap: a battered pile of tenderized meat who immediately attempts a pick up line while she’s trying to make him comfortable. Oh, it’s going to be a long recovery.

Every goddamn shift! He’d light up every single fucking time you walk into the room! Oh, it makes you want to smother him with a pillow -cute aggression-

It’s not fair! You wanted to hate him! Be the grumpy bitch nurse and go on with your day! But, he makes it hard!!!

He seems so genuinely interested and not some creepy perv hitting on a nurse! He asks you how you are in such a genuine way, he leans in to listen, retains information! He does try and rile you up but, only because he thinks your ‘angry face’ is ‘cute’ the bastard! Who gave him the right to call you cute!?

And he loves, despite how angry you present yourself. You are the gentlest nurse, you care, you’re still a good nurse despite trying to act as jaded as the older nurses. You remember he does like certain foods, you get blood on the first draw and you always know what he needs…

God, it’s tumbling down the slippery slope faster than you ever imagined. You weren’t supposed to catch feelings! That’s not allowed!!! But when he’s finally discharged? He finds you, and offers to walk you home instead of going with his friends to celebrate his discharge.

He knew how much it meant to you for him to acknowledge what you’ve done for him… even behind the tough wall you put up.

He’ll always remember you stayed far past your shift to watch him when he spiked a fever and was critical…

You two are sour and sweet.

He rips those jaded glasses off your face and gives you a big kiss.

You’re kinda just- not codependent! but, something on the healthier side of that. You have a comfortable rhythm. He’ll go out with friends at night, stalling until you come off your shift and he can pick you up.

He gets to spend time with friends, you get to walk home knowing you’re safe at 2 in the morning… even if you have to steady him on the way home after one too many pints.

He has bought a sexy nurse costume for you. He mainly wants you to wear it, he has worn it as well…

He loves your stories! You have the best stories! He’ll sit you on the bar so you can regale his mates that story of that guy! “You know- that guy! The one that got that thing stuck up his ass!” “Which one?”

Sometimes you just, put your hand over his eyes. He looks at you with such fucking love it’s ridiculous. He just pushes further into your hand when you do this.

He will lie down and offer to be your dummy if you need a refresher on anatomy. Wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis.

It’s a personal victory whenever he makes you laugh.

He is lord and savior to the children in the hospital. He will come to visit the children’s care unit, full gear. You find him, and he is their god. They cling to his arms and legs, he’s still moving around, strong enough to keep on going even with 7 kids clinging to him.

He will use his little minions to his own personal advantage. Make them give you, like drawings and paper flowers just to see you smile. And for his own amusement.

It’s like Syd the Sloth and the tiny sloths.

He tells you he can’t wait until you have your own… you never imagined you’d actually ever get baby fever after working as a nurse again… Johnny makes that happen.

He makes you cry when he’s deployed. Wipes your tears away with his thumbs. “Oh, lass. Don’t cry! I ‘Ken you can put me back together if I come back in pieces.” He tries to joke, only makes you cry harder…

He holds you a little tighter after that one.

He never wants you to have to put you through that, ever. He cringes every time he remembers he said that… that he thought it was okay to joke about putting you through that.

Marries you after he comes home from deployment. He comes back in better shape this time too. He’s got to be careful now, doesn’t he?

Ghost:

This man? This man falls for a preschool teacher.

He’s just sitting in the park, minding his own business when he see’s you pass with your little class walking behind you like ducklings. Fuck, when was the last time he’d seen someone so pure?

Your preschool was just on the edge of the park and you, with a few other handlers, were letting the kids explore the park under supervision. Their ‘task’ is to find the ‘fauna’ of the park!

Imagine his surprise when more than 4 of the little crotch goblins run up to him specifically. He thought he was scary to the little kids, well apparently not! You rush over to his rescue when you see them using him as a piece of playground equipment.

Oh, he looked so confused. Frozen like a deer in headlights as you stifle your giggle, peeling the 4 year old girl off his lap. “I’m so sorry!” “No, s’fine… cheeky buggers.” The kids all giggle, eager to play with him again.

Ghost then adds it into his schedule to mosey past your school every afternoon. You always know when he does because it’s always at recess and all the kids (except a few) flock to the fence to say hello to ‘Mr Ghost.’

He feels like a celebrity… softens his prickly heart to see all these sweet kids admire him… he thinks so poorly of himself, then he looks at these kids and you? You all look at him with such adoration…. Makes him feel like a human being again instead of a war machine.

And you look at him with such love. You find it sweet he takes his time to come see the kids, graciously accepting their pictures they drew of him.

He was kind of awkward at first, he’d stood ramrod straight like he would with his old drill sergeant and informed you of his record. He wasn’t a creep, he was in the military, and this was his little… respite from all the bile he had to face.

You couldn’t turn him away. You welcomed him every time you saw him over the fence. He remained behind the boundary of the fence and was . He was very grateful you didn’t think he was a creep and trespassed him from walking by.

You two were blissful.

You asked him out on a date. He asked you how many children you wanted… so sweet. lol

He finds you absolutely beautiful, bouncing one of your students on your hip whenever he stops by. He can’t help it. He can’t wait until you have kids of your own, you’ll teach them to be such wonderful human beings. He’ll teach them how to defend themselves and he’ll keep you all safe.

He becomes a bit of a helper around the preschool whenever he’s not deployed. He’s certified in cpr- why not? He mostly just watches the class room to see if any kid is doing anything wrong and preventing anyone from choking.

Kids take turns sitting in his lap whenever he’s sitting. He acts like he doesn’t care but you know he adores it.

Little girls will bring him stuffed animals and by the time class ends he’s surrounded by every stuffed animal in class. He remembers all of their names too. Oh, you can’t help it you get cute aggression with him!

Will walk around with your lipstick prints all over his balaclava. He will dodge envy attempt to wipe them off. They’re his!

After a long day, he’ll help you clean up the class room. In his mind he’s playing this scenario out, like you two are cleaning up after your own kids.

Hates the moms. He hates every single one of of the moms. They’re annoying. They’re coming after his fine ass because they didn’t find a man that treat them right, like he does you and he’s not putting up with it!

Asks you to give him hickeys once. ‘‘But love, yes.’’ After you tell him ‘‘no!’’ “We work in a preschool!” “And? They bite each otha’ all the time.” “Simon!”

He is their god, part 2.

They laugh at all of his stupid jokes, which in turn makes you laugh and now he’s a smug bastard.

Vibes with Bluey, you two watch it together. Aims to be like Bandit when he’s a dad. Takes it as a compliment when you tell him. “You’re pretty much a dead ringer for him already love.” Like, stunned for a second before he’s kissing your temple.

He hates deploying now.

All the kids cry when he does, it’s awful. Then, it makes you cry too. You were trying so hard to be strong and now you’re crying along with them.

Makes him feel like a worse monster than he thought he was.

Tada! Idk what this was! But there ya’ go! Enjoy!

[weirdo-fun]

Main Masterlist || Navigation || All works are F!Reader || All images sourced from Pinterest ||

SONGS THAT SOUND LIKE SEA-FOAM || Mini-Series || Completed

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

SYNOPSIS: In which a lone mermaid finds good company with a handsome fisherman who trespasses in her cove. But the word isn't what it used to be...hunting ships patrol the waters.

CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III

FANART: “You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” & "Mermaid Interpretation" by @thedevillovesflowers

2. RUN AWAY TO ME || Mini-Series || Completed

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

SYNOPSIS: The night started with wine and ended with blood. Racing through the woods after having escaped your wedding, you find a lone homestead in the middle of a rainstorm. Alone, wounded, and bordering on unconsciousness, you have no option but to knock.

CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III

3. BLOOD-STAINED WOOL SPUN AT MIDNIGHT || 18 + Mini-Series || Completed

PAIRING: Werewolf!Ghost x F!Tailor!Reader (Set in Van Helsing Era/Aesthetic)

SYNOPSIS: When you left the town in the year of our Lord, 1897, to buy more wool from the local farmer, the cobblestone streets had come up to meet the hooves of your neighbor's horse.

Along this trip of false hope, the open fields at your sides had led to the backdrop of a brimstone forest; an old shadow seems to loom there. A black thing. A devil with eyes like a burial mound. You were told to fear the Ghost of the Forest, but never had you known you'd be caught in his blackened claws.

CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III

4. BLACK METAL AND BOURBON || 18+ Mini-Series || Completed

PAIRING: Biker/Mechanic!Ghost x F!Bartender!Reader

SYNOPSIS: You've been in this small town for your entire existence, giving up dreams and aspirations to carry on life as a simple bartender despite your hatred of two things: the smell of cigarette smoke and the disrespect from regulars, namely, your ex and his buddies. But on a still-air Sunday, almost overnight, a mechanics shop pops up right across the street - giving sight to new faces and a fresh group of men with a love of motorcycles. One, in particular, seems to only like Bourbon.

CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III

5. TO HUNT A SILVER STAG || Mini-Series || Completed

PAIRING: Knight!Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x Fae!Princess!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Promised to a greedy king to try and preserve the magic of the land, a princess instead finds herself drawn to a chivalrous knight and his gentle words. But everyone knows magic has a mind of its own.

CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III

6. HOW TO ADAPT TO FIRE || Mini-Series || Ongoing

PAIRING: Fireman!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

SYNOPSIS: There is an arsonist in your city, and you're going to catch him. As one of the most prolific investigative journalists in the city, you make a lot of enemies the second your papers are released to the public. Your informant - and perhaps something more - in the local fire department makes a point to tell you to be careful.

But everyone knows he's right beside you when the fires start sparking.

CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III

7. MOSS, BONE, AND A FALLING STAR || Mini-Series || Not Started

PAIRING: Witch Hunter!Price x F!Witch!Reader

SYNOPSIS: Humans have not been kind to you, but they usually are to things that they don't understand. You're offered a deal when a rugged-looking Witch Hunter shows up at your secluded hut. Make him see you for what you truly are in three stories or less. You oblige and give him the limit - a story of moss, of bone, and of a falling star.

CHAPTERS: Part I, Part II, Part III

8. VIVAMUS, MORIENDUM EST || Undetermined || Not Started

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader (Reincarnation AU)

SYNOPSIS: In every lifetime you made a promise to one another: even if you must die, you will find a way to live together for all of eternity, be that five or a hundred years from now. You'd not broken your promise yet.

CHAPTERS: Undetermined

[weirdo-fun]

BioWare & Sanshee’s Mass Effect: Shepard Legendary prints (2021)

Art by: Saren Stone

[weirdo-fun]

gust & flame - masterlist

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

--- takes place after the events in A Court of Silver Flames

🍁 Eris Vanserra x Reader

Chapter I || Chapter II || Chapter III || Chapter IV || Chapter V || Chapter VI || Chapter VII || Chapter VIII || Chapter IX || Chapter X || Chapter XI || Chapter XII || Chapter XIII || Chapter XIV || Chapter XV || Chapter XVI || Chapter XVII || Chapter XVIII || Chapter XIX || Chapter XX ||

[weirdo-fun]

Bluebird — Part II — (Azriel x Reader)

Hiiiii. Still don’t know where I’m going with this. Totally just winging lmao. Still hope you enjoy!

Warnings: None!

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“Another attack – this one just outside the village. The most brutal thing I’ve ever seen. It was Alda this time. The tailor’s daughter.” 

Your head jerked up. Ale sloshed over the tankard in your hand, dripping onto your boots. 

The man sitting with his friend at the bar raised an eyebrow at you. “I hope you’re going to refill that, Y/N. You poured half of it onto the floor.” 

Your cheeks burned. “Yeah—yes. Sorry.” 

Their conversation resumed as you turned back to the ale tap. The topic itself had lost its shock value, with how often you heard such conversations in your father’s tavern — but you knew Alda.

Well – knew her in the sense that you sometimes nodded in greeting as you passed by each other in the village. Knew her as well as a sheltered, friendless girl such as yourself could know anyone. 

You placed the tankard in front of the man – your father’s friend…or associate. Whatever they called themselves. Alf, you thought his name was. “Is…is Alda dead?” You asked. 

Alf gulped down a few mouthfuls of ale before he nodded. “She is. Yet another attack from the scumbag Fae. I’m telling you—” He turned to the man beside him, then, “They’re priming to strike and wipe our kind out completely. There’ll be a war before long.” 

There was no mistaking the way your stomach plummeted, your body going cold all over. Sheltered you may be, and inexperienced, perhaps naive – but while you had pretty much educated yourself, taught yourself everything you now knew at twenty-one years of age, your father had been the one to teach you about the Fae. 

Terrible, evil beings who assaulted and slaughtered humans for sport. Beings who preyed on young, innocent girls and lured them out of their beds in the dead of night. Was that what had happened to Alda?

Was it what had happened to your mother, when they’d killed her?

The Fae hadn’t breached your village in decades – until recently. The attacks were ratcheting up. 

“We need to start rallying our forces.” The second man said. “If they’re planning to strike, we need to be ready.”

The forces he spoke of were, in fact, your father’s doing. Though he was an aloof, nonchalant man – not a natural parent, by any means – the visceral hatred he felt for the Fae seemed to bring him alive. You covered his work behind the bar every week while he gave impassioned talks to the men of the village about the evil across the wall. What they were capable of. What they had already done to your kind. The fact that many humans lived in squalor, whilst the Fae lived in the lap on luxury on what was once human-owned land. And it was your job to go around after his talks, collecting the coin that the punters donated to further his cause. 

You were privy to everything that was said in The Bluebird Inn. And you’d had no choice but to be aware of the Fae, when they’d taken your own mother from you when you were just a babe, too young to ever hold a memory of her. If the Fae truly were getting bolder, coming closer…if they were picking the village girls off one by one— 

You shuddered, wiping down the bar. The two men rose from their seats and went over to join the crowd of rebels that currently surrounded your father, the noise from the group only growing louder, more incensed, as news of Alda’s murder spread.

“Have you ever seen a Fae?” 

You looked up to meet the eyes of the handsome, brown-haired young man who leaned against the bar, bracing his forearms on it – Devin. He was, perhaps, the most dazzling of all the men in the village – only a year or so older than you, and currently completing his training to be a Village Guard. One day, he would join the other guards in protecting your people and warding off more Fae attacks. He was a quiet supporter of your father’s cause, having attended two of his talks now. 

“No.” You blinked at him. “Of course not. Have you?”

“I have.” Devin nodded. “Count yourself lucky, Y/N. You don’t want to see a Fae. They’re hideous, horrible beings. Terrifying. You can see the evil in their eyes.”

“I thought they were always rumoured to be quite beautiful.” 

His broad shoulders shrugged. “They are – but that’s all a part of the allure. They coax you in with their beauty, and then they rip you limb from limb and leave your broken body to be found by your loved ones. And they do it because they can.” 

Sick – you felt utterly sick. And cold. How could such beings exist? It didn’t matter that your father had spent your entire life drilling these facts into your head – the details were never any less horrific. 

“The attacks are becoming more frequent, aren’t they?” You asked quietly, pouring Devin a drink. 

He nodded, his pretty brown eyes darkening. “They are. The Village Guards are doing all they can, but they don’t stand a chance against magic. These are dark, unsafe times, Y/N. And you’re the exact kind of person they target.” 

“I…I carry a blade with me. My father has shown me how to use it.” 

His lips lifted into a wry smile. “Smart as that is, it won’t do you much good against a being who can infiltrate your mind and plant thoughts there. They can convince you that you want to go with them, to follow them. They can get you exactly where they want you, and then they’ll strike.” He reached forward, placing a hand on your arm – the contact tinged your cheeks pink. “I know you’re independent, Y/N. I know that you help your father with the tavern, and you run a lot of his errands. But…it’s not safe, right now, for a young woman to be out walking alone. If you absolutely must travel somewhere — send for me. I’ll be your chaperone.” 

If possible, your cheeks burned even more. Any of the girls in the village would have killed for such an offer from Devin. He was easily the most sought-after man around here. And to think he was offering you his protection…

“I will.” You said a little too quickly, hoping your face didn’t show how flustered you truly were. “Thank you, Devin.”

With a charming wink, he rose from his seat and took a place amongst the other gathering audience members, glued to your father’s talk that evening. It was obvious in the incensed murmurings amongst the men that the tensions were ratcheting up. That it wouldn’t be long before they struck, and the human-Fae troubles would begin anew.

You couldn’t help scanning each face and wondering which of them would survive to tell the tale.

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Azriel went back. 

Despite telling himself not to, a few nights later, he went back. 

It struck him again how dark and dingy that little village was. But the thought eddied away as he positioned himself in the same spot and waited.

The young woman played the piano again. It was at the same time, by the same dim candlelight. But a different tune. 

He wondered if this was a routine of hers. If she played at the same hour every night.

And then he wondered why he damn well cared.

He’d never had much interest in humans. Not from any sort of prejudice; it just seemed pointless — needlessly painful — to build connections with people who he’d have decades with at best. It was easier and far more logical to quietly respect their existence from a distance. 

But that mantra was not in keeping with a growing fixation of a human woman he had no business going near.

He supposed it just…soothed him. To imagine a life of peace, where time was set aside every night to play music. Such beautiful, chilling music. 

It was a damn sight more relaxing than the ever-present roaring in his head.

And that was why he went back again.

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“I haven’t seen you much recently.” Elain sipped delicately from a teacup, brown eyes flitting over Azriel in all his dark glory. “What’s been keeping you busy?”

It was a pleasantly warm day in Velaris. Warm enough for them to take their tea outside. They had so far sat in companionable silence as Elain had admired the vibrant flowers and Azriel had pored over reports while sunning his wings. 

But he found himself quietly restless. Eager for nightfall; to spread his wings and fly amongst the stars 

“Just business.” He responded vaguely. A far better answer than the truth — that her mating bond with Lucien suffocated him. “Nothing exciting.”

Elain hummed thoughtfully, studying the shadowsinger. There was a pause before she said, a little coyly, “I hope nobody’s giving you grief—about me, I mean.”

Azriel’s eyes flicked up to meet hers. “Grief?”

“I’m a grown woman—female.” She still found herself having to correct her words sometimes. “I make my own choices. And that includes whose company I do or do not wish to keep.”

“I don’t think anybody would expect otherwise.”

Silence was the only response. Because both of them knew what she was hinting at — the warning Rhysand had given Azriel to watch how he behaved around Elain. How Elain had learned of it, Azriel didn’t know. But she wasn’t daring enough to confront it outright.

“I just wanted you to know that.” She said, rising from her seat. “I enjoy spending time with you, Azriel. There’s nothing wrong about that.”

No, there wasn’t. Still…the two of them didn’t usually speak so boldly to each other. Az found himself unsure of how to respond.

And even more so, as Elain leaned down and pecked him on the cheek, her strawberry scent enveloping him. He felt his body go taut, felt his cheeks flush. 

“Don’t work too hard.” Elain said softly. And then she gathered up the tea tray, and disappeared inside.

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The coins jostled and clinked against each other as you set the clay pot in front of your father. “Tonight’s takings.” You told him.

Rough, dirty fingers rooted around inside the pot. Your father glanced up at you. “Not bad.” But could be better, was what he meant.

You were starting to wonder if there was an amount that would satisfy your father, if you presented it to him. You knew he was eager to further his cause, to build up funds and supplies, but…he always seemed so disappointed.

Still, you hovered in front of him, wiping your hands over your wrinkled shirt. “…Devin said it’s not safe for people like me to go out unattended. With all the Fae attacks. He’s offered to be my chaperone.”

Your father’s gaze flitted to yours. To raise the subject to him was to test the waters. Your unspoken plea lay heavy in the air: go on. Let me have friends. Give me some freedom. You can trust me.

“Devin is a fine male.” He said, and a little kernel of hope arose in you. “But I don’t want you getting any ideas, Y/N.”

Your shoulders slumped. “Yes, Papa.”

“I need you here, helping me however I ask whilst I do my work. That’s your duty. And Devin is training to be a Village Guard. That is his duty. Perhaps when this whole thing is over, things will be different. But right now, I need you here.”

“Yes, Papa.”

“Are all the chores done? Have you locked up?”

“Just some trash to take out. I had to kick Kiall out. He drank too much again, and he was becoming a nuisance.” Your voice gave away how downtrodden you felt, but you knew your father would pretend not to notice. “I thought I might play some music for a while.”

“Not tonight, Y/N.” He shook his head. “I head out tomorrow to give talks in the other villages. I need as much rest as I can get — as do you. You’ll be holding the fort here while I’m gone.”

You inclined your chin. And for a third time, you droned, “Yes, Papa.”

Your father dismissed you by easing himself back in his chair and retrieving his glass of whiskey from the small table beside him. You lingered a moment longer before turning on your feet.

But it was in the doorway that you stopped, a feared, plaguing thought arising in you. 

“Do you truly think we can win against the Fae?” You asked.

Your father glanced over his shoulder. And something shadowed his face as he bit out coldly, “We have to.”

The tone of his voice frightened you too much to respond.

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Azriel waited. And waited. And waited.

But the woman didn’t appear. And the sweet music didn’t float up to him.

He supposed he felt a little foolish for becoming so…hopeful. For racing to the human lands to glimpse and hear what had occupied his thoughts for the last few days.

Gods, Rhys would chew him out if he knew. Even though Azriel was the damn spymaster. Even though he knew how to stay hidden, and he could sure as shit defend himself against any number of humans — it was still risky. Because he could frighten the humans, if nothing else.

But he still hoped. And when he realised that it was getting late, and The Bluebird Inn was in darkness — that no music was coming tonight — he felt frustrated.

His whole body was restless as he turned and made to leave. He didn’t want to return home yet, but…there was no point in being here. In staring at a bleak, darkened village—

He was just about to take off when he caught the movement in his periphery. 

A door opened below — the inn’s side door. And out stepped the woman he’d so eagerly wanted to glimpse.

Azriel’s entire body went still, only his wings keeping him aloft. He watched as the woman — carrying what seemed to be a trash bag — turned into the alley beside the inn. 

He shouldn’t have done it, but he did. He flew closer. 

Close enough to watch the human deposit the trash bag into a bin. Close enough to see her turn — and pause at the sight of a man who came stumbling seemingly out of nowhere. Azriel tensed, not quite catching what the man slurred at her.

“We’re closed.” The woman’s voice floated up to him, skittering over Azriel’s skin. As sweet as the music she played. “And you’ve had plenty to drink. I won’t be serving you any more.”

The drunken human man staggered closer to her, clutching at the wall. “One more drink, and I’ll leave you in peace—”

“I said no, Kiall. My father is trying to sleep.” The woman snapped. “Go home and sober up.”

She made to step past the inebriated lout, seeming so much smaller than him.

And it was as the man’s hand shot out to shove her against the wall that Azriel acted without thinking. 

He swooped down, landing with a thud in the mouth of the alley. His face was a sheet of fury, his wings a blanket of unforgiving night, as he stared at the two humans.

They both paled at the sight of him. The woman quietly gasped.

“The lady said no.” Azriel intoned quietly, lethally, his cold eyes fully on the man. “Leave.”

There was no movement; just two humans gaping at the sight before them. Until the man seemed to reach for some sort of weapon. Azriel almost laughed at the idea.

“Leave,” he said again, taking a step forward, “while you can still leave with your heart beating.”

That was all it took to frighten the man into moving. He shoved the woman away from him, tripping over his own feet as he took off. Azriel tucked in his wings just enough for the man to scuttle past. He left as quickly as his human legs would allow.

And then it was just Azriel and the woman. The woman who so beautifully played the piano. The woman who was still staring at him, wide-eyed and trembling. 

He wanted to know her name. But it didn’t seem appropriate to ask. And his head was roaring so much with fury that he wasn’t sure he could even formulate the words.

“Are you alright?” He managed to bite out. He knew he’d got there before the woman had been hurt, but he still studied her for any indication of harm.

She blinked at him, pressing herself against the wall. And then stiffly nodded — just once.

Azriel wanted to hear her voice. But she didn’t speak.

“You should go back inside.” He said quietly.

She paused, and then nodded again. He nodded, too.

“Goodnight, then.” He inclined his head.

He shot into the skies before he could make any more reckless decisions. He knew that the woman watched the whole thing in both fear and awe.

He should go home. And not return. This had been foolish, and dangerous, and damn well pointless. She was just a human woman. Az had seen many in his half a millennia, and he would see many more.

He had no reason to be so transfixed.

But that didn’t stop him waiting and watching, making sure she made it inside, before he turned and flew back to the city of Velaris.

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@hanasakr @positivewitch @ruler-of-hades @brekkershadowsinger @nightscourtt @imperfect0angel @luna-1-3-5 @hyacinthoideshispanica @lucyysthings @lahoete @littlemoonash @blacksstarrynight @azriels-mate123 @ghostly-poetic @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @a-frog-with-a-laptop @illyriansimp @morrie-rose @passingthroughfireandshadow @illyrian-dreamer @azrielsbabyg @96jnie @mich0731 @mulansaucey @truthtellerfanclub @acourtofbooksandmagic @insightsonmylife @basicbittywitty @curbside-cyanide @acourtofchaosandmess @123345566 @starrynights-frostbites @eos-princess @thesillyyogourt @ona-raising-07-l @acediahamartia @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @polli05927 @asdfjklbooks @azriel-luvr @amysangel @humanpersonlasttimeichecked @wildflowernightmere @audie-writes @aaronwarnerswifereal @starxqt @lulufairbank @laurzwrites @livelaughlovenestaarcheron @girlwith-thecinder-blockgarden @emturtles @lostpirateinwonderland @kammsinn @localhopedealerr @pee-stachio @tobifeemo @torchbearerkyle @honeycriess @shadowsingersmate24 @azziessidehoe @camillo-420 @aztheshadowsinger @shadow-singer123 @weirdo-fun @bookscurlsandgirls @limelightsuperhero @eviepeo

[weirdo-fun]

Jewel of the Autumn

Chapter 1

Pairing: Cassian x Vanserra!Reader

Summary: Many had excepted High Lord Beron to immediately marry off his beautiful daughter when she came of age, maybe even before, but when instead she’s kept out of the public eye and confined to her chambers many are surprised he does not use her to improve relations with other courts. Instead he fears that when he does eventually marry his daughter off she will be corrupted and the horror of his ways will settle into her mind causing him to keep her as a prisoner in her home, a girl who doesn’t even realize she is one. When he brings his daughter to the High Lord meeting neither of them realize of the mating bond that has just clicked for the General of the Night Court.

Warnings: Sexist views, unhealthy father-daughter relationship, abusive and toxic families, Isolation

Word Count:  5646

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