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You're at the stove cooking us dinner when I come up behind you. I put my hands tenderly on your waist before I put a hand down your pants, touching you and making you moan. After a few minutes, I bring my fingers to your mouth and you eagerly suck them. "You'll get more later if you're a good Pet", I say as I walk away.
⭐
Director's cut of cass or az when the find out reader is their mate
hey anon! i know it took me a hot minute to answer this but i hope the wait was worth it, i just had an idea of what the answer was but i didn't want to put this out before certain scenes had already happened... if u know what i mean teehee
anyway, i hope you enjoy! the request is under the cut <3
reminder this is reader x Cass/Az/Rhys polyamory & FMMM
content warnings: minor mention of Rhy's s/a in vague passing but nothing explicit
notes: i decided to mesh this directors cut and mold it into a one-shot request! hope you don't mind <3
word count: 1,282
read on ao3 / high lady masterlist
They find out, as they always have done, together.
They knew something changed the moment Rhysand landed on the balcony of the House of Wind and crumpled to the ground, they could smell it on him, smell you. Your essence had weaved it's way into his soul and soon enough, would nestle in their own.
It was silent as the entire Inner Circle realized what was happening, the threads of fate binding the three brothers closer together. A bond so unlike the ones forged on Ramiel, strengthen over centuries of trust and loyalty.
"She," Rhysand breathed heavily, his voice scratchy from thick emotion, "she's my mate."
Those were the first words he has spoken to his friends, his family, in five decades. A lifetime for some humans. His voice was heavy, a tune the rest of his Court had missed over the years.
"Our mate," Azriel sputtered. Not many things took him by surprise but this, this one did very much. He wasn't sure if he was fond of surprises but he was keen to find out.
Rhysand was devastated, not in regret or rejection, but in painful memories surfacing to the forefront of his last mate, of Enver. His ghost still haunted Rhysand's memories and he felt the same fear as he did five centuries ago. He felt that at any moment, you would be ripped away from this life just as Enver had once been, when Rhys was still ignorant of the world.
Cassian, oh, Cassian. Never in his life did he believe the stories, even when he witnessed his High Lord fall in love and bond with Enver back when they were just broodlings in the war camps. Then when Rhys lost his mate, he swore he never wanted to feel the sweet song of a mating bond for he never wanted to endure that same pain that lingered in Rhysand's very bones. It was Cassian who was the most wary of them all. He knew of you, heard the whispers of your brutality, of your death. Yet he swore, he would play along for the sake of his brothers but for now, he never wanted to lay eyes on you.
Azriel recalled from the confines of his memories your scent as a human, laid bare in the shadow of your former self as you wasted away in the cell Under the Mountain. He had been curious about you, as he was prone to be. He was the most unclear of his intentions, even to himself. His shadows yearned for you in a way he never experienced and Azriel was not one to let a mystery go unsolved. For now, he would let the pieces of the puzzles fall where they may, and stars help them if you reject them all.
The silence was deafening for many moments as each Inner Circle member tried to swallow this information. Rhysand was back, was free for good, but his freedom latched onto your newly formed Fae soul and gave him a new chance at hope. For the others, they didn’t know a damned thing about you other than what was whispered, the few tidbits of information that could be smuggled out from under Amarantha’s nose was valuable. Yet, once they all realized that the bond had not only awakened in their High Lord, it awoke in their Shadowsinger and their Lord of Bloodshed.
“Holy shit,” Morrigan whispered just as she broke through the stunned males and reached for her cousin, wrapping him in a warm and loving embrace. Just as she did, Rhysand broke. It was the first time he let himself fall into the thralls of sadness in 50 years. Because of you. Because of you, he was with his family again.
Afterwards, Cassian was the one who wanted to speak of this development the least. Azriel took it upon himself to spy on you from within Rosehall any chance he got, to find out just what kind of female you were. What did you like? What did you hate? What kept you up at night? What do you wish for? He wanted to know.
Days passed and Rhysand began to rebuild himself, slowly but surely. The others were patient, giving him anything he needed, but right now, he needed to have a talk with his brothers. Weeks after his return in which he had seemingly abandoned his bargain with you, he gathered Azriel and Cassian and the three males finally sat together. “There’s no other way to say this, we all felt it,” Rhysand started, still in disbelief of the situation. “It snapped into place for me and I know both of you felt it awaken in you.”
Cassian paced in Rhys’ office, not wanting to be a part of this conversation. “No. She’s not my mate. No way.”
“It has happened before,” he says, “We all know it’s not unheard of.”
Azriel remained silent for a moment before offering, “What are the chances that this… human was fated to be our mate after dying and being resurrected into Fae?” His suspicions were superficial at best, unsure of his own feelings.
“I don't trust this female,” Cassian challenged. “You said yourself that she is of Tamlin’s court, whose to say this isn't some ploy to infiltrate this court by throwing some female at our feet and claiming a thrice over mating bond?”
Cassian was grasping at smoke to cast suspicion on you but Rhysand would not have it.
“No,” he argued. “You weren't there Under the Mountain. You didn't see how she fought against Tamlin, even Lucien. It was like she knew Tamlin wasn't even her ally, like she was a dozen steps ahead of Ama-,” he cut himself off, “of the false queen.”
Rhysand pours himself a heavy serving of strong amber liquid. He hated turning to alcohol when things got hard, never wanted to fall into the crutch of it, and yet here he was, breaking his own creed. “Fight against the bond all you want but I won't. I lost Enver, I thought I would never have the chance at this fate again… but the Mother put this female in our path and I'm not ignoring it. Lie to yourselves all you want brothers, but I won't.”
Cassian stopped his impatient pacing as his shoulders slumped. “You can have her, Rhys, but I won’t fall to my knees for her. Not until she proves she is worth the vulnerability.”
The admission rocks the room between the three Illyrians. Cassian was never one to speak of having weakness, it was likely his biggest fear. Just as it was Rhysand’s.
The three males always had more in common as the years passed, it’s where their love and loyalty formed between them without fail and this, this was the first time they feared not for themselves, but for the others. Azriel stepped forward, “Give her a chance, Cass.”
“I will, I am,” he sighed, looking between his brothers. “We’ve shared females but a mate? Mother help the poor bastards that cross her if she accepts us.”
“I thought you were hesitant to even acknowledge the bond,” Azriel teased.
He shrugged and feigned a pout, “I don’t want to be left out.”
Rhysand huffed and put his glass down, gesturing to his two brothers to join him closer. “Of all the males it could have been, I’m glad it was the three of us.”
Azriel and Cassian looked to each other, forming a playful grin, just before they tackled their High Lord. The three Illyrians falling to the ground laughing like nothing mattered but their brotherhood, grateful they had more time together, and another string woven into their companionship.
Together.
You're reading your book out loud, my head between your legs making you feel so good. You're struggling to continue, to stay concentrated. You stop with a gasp.
"Keep reading. Remember, if you stop, I stop"
I grin as you continue reading, and I go back between your legs.
Thank you for the new chapter ahh!!!! I loved it so much. The flirting! I’m dying! Please please please I need a director’s cut of Rhys, Azriel, or both!! When reader flirts in the summer court!! Oh my god!!!
summary: predominately Az pov but shifting pov nonetheless!
notes: i have a small idea for a smutty lil directers cut scene set well well well into the future that's post high lady if anybody is interested? it's basically uhh birthday sex with the batboys teehee
word count: 2,343
read on ao3 / high lady masterlist
Azriel hadn’t seen you all morning, nor afternoon. He was supposed to accompany Rhysand as soon as he could but things got in the way. He would go on to tell Cassian he had previous business to attend to even knowing that was a lie.
After the shared kiss between you and him, your lips were the only thing he could think about and this morning, when he woke, it certainly was the only thing his body ached for. That’s honestly why he was late. The others may have believed him to be the one with the most self-restraint and as much as it was an accurate representation of him, when it came to you then all bets were off.
You were his mate. Not just his alone but his all the same.
His that he shared with two of the males he trusted the most in this life.
Sometimes he laid in bed and wondered if the Mother or the Cauldron brought the three of them together all those years ago to be a force of nature but also, because they would drop you right into their path. Of course, you had yet to even acknowledge your multiple bonds, much less accept them.
Then last night happened and there was a whirlwind of your essence poured into it. Your anger, your insecurities, your grief, and your loneliness, but there was more than that. There was your strength, your honesty, your passion, and your playfulness as well.
As he was now, he was searching the Summer Court Palace halls for anything out of the ordinary. He had sent his two spies on their own mission but emphasized to take care of your needs as a priority.
Then there was a foreign sensation punched in his gut. It was that taste of anger from the night before but with the bitterness of frustration and lithe tang of panic. It was you. You were projecting through the mating bond.
Abandoning his duties, he shadow-stepped into the realm between this world and the dark one layered beneath. It was cold, as it always was, not meant to be seen nor walked through as he did. This was his world and he was King.
Pulling on that thread that connected the two of you, he sped through the shadows of the palace, not caring if any could sense him even for a flicker of a moment he passed through. His chase led up one of the spires into a guest room suite where he found you.
You were breathing heavily, the braid Alis had helped you with this morning coming undone just a bit. You were also more than half undressed, standing only in thin underclothes which made his breathing stop, his heart choking him.
Everything within screamed to sweep you off your feet and make you laugh and laugh until your worries were gone. “Feyre,” he swallowed thickly, “what-.”
You spun so fast as the sound of his voice, eyes wide and mouth opened slightly. “Az! What are you doing here?”
“I- I wanted to check on you.”
“I’m half naked.”
“I can see that.”
In fact it was the only thing he could see. He could see the color of your nipples through the sheer fabric, the expanse of your legs, which he wanted to throw over his shoulders. It was almost too overwhelming but he restrained himself. Cauldron be damned, he somehow managed to.
He watched as the corner of your lips turned up slightly in a phantom kiss of a smile before walking to what he assumed to be your temporary dresser. Getting an idea he walked to it behind you and plucked the white dress he knew was in there.
Azriel would never tell you but he bought it for you a few days ago on one of his rare nights free of work. He saw it in the window of a shop while walking along the Sidra and once he saw it he knew you had to have it. It was simple, unlike most of the ornate clothes of the Night Court, and was long enough to cover your skin which he knew you preferred. It was also breathable enough for when your panic got the best of you and you could breathe in it.
He had the seamstress adjust it to your proportions and she was more than accommodating with the service. She was a kind woman, lesser fae, a descendant of a spider race, and her craftsmanship was the best of her kind.
It was perfect.
You were perfect.
“This one,” he said against the point of your ear, handing you the dress.
“I told Rhys we kissed.” Your voice was so soft, so gentle, he could have almost missed it had he not been close enough to feel the heat radiate off your body, smelling the sweet spice of your arousal that was only a gift granted by the mating bond.
Azriel was conflicted. He wanted to be selfish, wanted to kiss you again and take you against the dresser but he couldn’t. Not when you were letting your guard down in front of him and allowing yourself to be vulnerable. He also wanted to earn your love of your own volition, wanted you to want him not because a bond told you so but because you chose him.
And then there was Rhysand. Cassian and Azriel never had a mate before, unlike their High Lord. They never experienced the heartache of what losing Enver did to Rhys, never felt that incredible devastation left in the wake of his death. The least he could do was reign in his desires for you and be patient. He waited five centuries for you, what was a few more weeks?
“Do you regret kissing me? That it was not Rhysand?”
The speed of which you turned to face him and stared at him wide eyed was cute in his mind. Your facial expression betrayed your honesty, your eagerness as you said, “No. Not at all.”
Stars, he was enthralled by you. He pinned you between himself and the dresser and lowered his face to yours, making you stare up at him. “Then why did you tell our High Lord about it?”
He was being just a little too forward about how you made him feel but teasing you was so easy.
“He claims he's my mate. I don't know how any of this works.”
That. That pulled him from wherever his mind was trailing to. Azriel could forget that you were human by the way you carried yourself. So defiant and full of courage. It was like you grew up in those Illyrian war camps with him and his brothers.
He felt a pang of sorrow realizing that yes, this was all new to you, there was so much you had to learn about their culture and the Courts. “Do whatever feels right. Your feelings aren't wrong nor should you feel like you're betraying any of us.”
We're all yours, Feyre, he wanted to say. Always yours.
Instead he said, “There is so much we need to talk about, so much I want to say against your skin with you writhing in pleasure beneath me. You have no idea how difficult it is for any of us to restrain ourselves.”
Without realizing, his hand had cupped your neck and he could feel the pulse beneath his burned palm. With his forehead on yours, he felt a solemn peace between the two of you. He wanted to feel more of you, wanted to wrap himself in the entirety of your body and of your shielded smiles.
He could hear Rhysand’s footfalls coming to your door and he still couldn’t bear to pull himself away, not when your hands had reached up to rest on his chest. He couldn’t.
The door opened and Rhys said, “I have a problem and it’s because I like Tarquin.”
It took everything within him to pull himself away and he did, only to face his High Lord who looked between the two of you. “Suddenly you like people now,” he toyed.
Azriel felt Rhysand’s fluttering emotions through their own shared bond, one he and Cassian made centuries ago. It was how they were always so in tuned with the others.
“Did I come in at the wrong time or the right time,” Rhysand flirted, looking down at your distinct lack of clothing.
The High Lord hadn’t been expecting this scene but he smelled the wave of arousal from not only you but Azriel as well. He observed how your pupils were blown wide and dark and a heightened spiciness in the air that cocooned him, immediately making him stifle a mix between a groan and whine of want.
The two males watched you as you covered your body with the dress and asked, “What is this about you suddenly reconsidering the plan?”
Rhysand cleared his throat then moved to stand by your bed, eyes boring into yours. He did not want the intensity of how your growing pleasure permeated the air in the bedroom pulled at his instincts, same as Azriel. The two of them were slowly unraveling like two coiled beasts ready to unleash and yet they stilled, yet they watched, yet they submitted and listened to only you.
“You need to get the Book without making us enemies of the Summer Court,” Rhysand said simply. And possibly get out of the Summer Court without making both Azriel and him cum in their pants by how you dominated the room, but that was a conversation for another day.
“You say that like being a thief is second nature to me. I barely made it out of Styga’s Cottage without causing a ruckus and nearly having to bargain with her to escape. I doubt Tarquin would let me out of his sight so easily since he is seemingly interested in me,” you say.
Both the males were taken back by the way you snapped but Rhysand, being himself as always, leveled with you the only way he knew how. “Then get it by any means necessary.”
Azriel watched like a silent sentinel as his High Lord’s eyes trailed over his past lover's armor and moved them in a way as to not lay on them with as much adoration and respect for the dead as he could. He dropped onto your bed, full of arrogance, eager to push you.
“And if I fucked him to get it? Rode him until dawn to get him to submit to me, would that be sufficient enough for you?”
Both Azriel and Rhysand’s eyes flared with more intensity at your words. Azriel had it right the other night, that mouth of yours. The two males could think of better uses for it, as well as that tongue.
You leaned over Rhysand, hands on either side of his head where he lay on your pillow, as you teased him.
“You are a free female to do as you wish. You haven’t accepted the mating bond between us and what you do with your body is your business. If you want to fuck him til dawn, then be my guest, but do not act like you aren’t enticed by me, by Cassian, or Azriel.”
Rhysand wanted to pull you to him and capture your lips with his. Azriel wanted to hear what kinds of lewd sounds you’d make if he pulled your hair back.
Both were completely enamored and fed off the other’s heedy scent of arousal that filled the bed chamber, a deadly cycle that sent blood from one head to another on their body.
Alas, Rhysand’s words were right, he knew just exactly what his presence did to you. You said so yourself all those weeks ago Under the Mountain. You weren’t blind, you knew he was attractive, just as his brothers were. The reminder sent a fire down to where he began to grow hard.
And to remember, you were only human when you said that. Ignorant, just as he, as to the mating bond that called between you.
“And if Tarquin wasn’t the High Lord I wanted to bed?”
Azriel stepped closer to you, ready to either push or pull you from the bed, stars if he knew what he was doing. All he did know was how your words sent shivers down his back, his wings fluttering with eagerness.
“You can spread those pretty thighs for whomever you choose, Feyre, but if you want a High Lord’s cock that badly, you would never have to ask,” he paused before a feline smirk kissed his lips. “But I’d love to see you beg for it.”
The males heard how your breath stopped, either from want or the sound of vulgarity, neither of them knew. “I bet you would go pussy drunk if I took you now with Azriel watching.”
Azriel’s brow quipped up. Oh?
Then you lowered yourself to kiss Rhysand with the same level of prowess and energy as you did with the shadowsinger the night prior and rose to your full height.
“Too bad Tarquin has my attention right now.”
You pushed past Azriel and exited your bedroom, leaving the two males harder than a rock and at a lost for words. Both of them adjusted themselves in their pants and Rhysand stood. “I think I’m in love with her,” he said.
Azriel smiled at his High Lord’s words. “Me too. That damned mouth of hers is going to kill us, brother.”
“Do you think she meant what she said, about taking me to bed and letting you watch,” Rhysand asked wistfully.
“If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have said it.”
“Maybe her instincts tell her that the three of us are hers, it’s only her mind that doesn’t know it yet,” Rhysand wonders, hope filling his voice.
“Whatever happens, Rhys,” Azriel says with a smirk, “Make sure she orgasms as many times as Cassian has won the snowball fights.”
Rhysand snorted. “We are so fucked.”
“Thoroughly fucked.”
⭐ Director's cut on Azriel's thoughts about Reader!Feyre when their shadows dance together and they have a "moment" (you can take this as a request if you like, it would be an interesting read 😊)
combined with the ask -
notes: the way this has me physically vibrating with happiness!! thank you anon!! minor spoilers for chapter 21 of the high lady of cunning.
word count: 1,463
read on ao3 / high lady masterlist
reminder this is reader x Cass/Az/Rhys polyamory & FMMM
He couldn't stop but stare. You were lost in thought, mindlessly touching your pointed ears. Rhysand was right all those days ago, being High Fae suited you well, but he couldn't help but wonder what you would look like with Illyrian wings, wings he and his brothers wore.
Azriel had suppressed his inner thoughts and curiosities about you, same as Cassian, in favor of giving Rhysand the spotlight. After all you endured Under the Mountain, all he endured, it was agreed that Rhysand would be the one to tell you, to ease you into this world of Fae and magic. Of mating bonds.
His shadows sang a mystical tune any time you were around. The shadows knew just as well as he, just as well as his brothers knew the truth. You were some way, somehow their mate. All three of them.
Not more than a few nights ago he almost ran to you the moment you walked down the stairs at the townhouse, relieved to find you safe. Then his eyes traced down, mentally noting any hair out of place, any scrape or bruise to give him an excuse to hunt but instead what he saw was that cursed armor.
Enver was a ghost that haunted his High Lord for many centuries. Of course he respected whoever was fated to be with Rhysand, but there was no denying there was nothing he nor any of the other Inner Circle members could do to fill that void.
That first day he met you, he could smell that bond that he could only smell off Rhysand. Only now, now it lingered on him as well as Cassian. The three of them spoke about it for hours, unsure of how to procede, but there was one thing for sure- he knew you were everything.
“Hey,” you called to him, giving him this look of adolescent curiosity as you watched his shadows thread over his body. Azriel hadn't realized how close to you he had gotten, his feet pushing him forward, naturally drawn into your orbit.
He took another step closer until he could practically touch you. For a beat, he thought you read his mind because before he knew it, you were reaching out to him, your own darkness swirling over your skin.
The two of you watched as the shadows mixed and Azriel could hear them singing blissfully as they mingled together. This was the first time his shadows ever wanted to be caressed by another, the first time he could remember hearing the amount of joy in their tune.
For the first time in centuries he was left speechless at the music, music he was sure you couldn't hear. He knew his shadows could swallow yours whole if they wanted, there were plenty of times when his took on a sentience far more capable than others expected and now he was sure yours were the same as well.
The Shadowsinger was taken back just momentarily as he had a brief thought of… what if you were a shadowsinger as well, just like him?
You smiled up at him and that's when he put a pin in that thought, but swore he would not shy away from you as much as he had already. The smile you gave was genuine and it was all he needed to be sure of what he was about to do.
Azriel craved to know you.
“They've never done that before,” you said in wonder.
Azriel reached for your hand that was still extended towards him. Under the usual circumstances he would have been embarrassed by the burns that marked his skin. Under the usual circumstances he would have never touched another like this. But it was you and with you he felt safe.
It was painfully beautiful how you did not flinch at his touch nor of the scars that littered across his palms and he knew instinctively that this was a moment meant to be. Azriel reached into that vast expansion that lay within the pocket realm that he and Rhysand can draw from and called forth a symbol of not just his devotion to you but also that of Rhysand, of Cassian.
You were a part of them as they were now a part of you.
The obsidian dropped into your palm. “Can you summon from them,” he asked.
It was almost comical how doe-eyed you looked, either surprised at his voice or of the gift, he didn't know. But he was positive about one thing, and that was you had him wrapped around your finger.
You nodded, telling him wordlessly that you could summon from them. He was about to ask another question but the damned words died on his tongue the moment a dagger, simple and definitely sharp if his shadows gave him any indication.
Looking up at him, he nodded, a warm feeling of pride blooming in his chest as he was surely now thinking you were Made into a Shadowsinger, almost like he was.
Azriel jerked his chin towards the symbolic obsidian in your palm, “In Illyrian culture, obsidian is given to outsiders as proof they can be trusted, that they are one of us. You’ve proved that time and time again.”
More than you know, he thought.
Your eyes left his and focused on the beloved gift that remained in your hands as he watched you quickly dismiss the dagger you had conjured on his request. Azriel remained in silent awe at how you had nearly perfected summoning from your shadow-like abilities, something that took an ordinary shadowsinger many years to get right without accidentally harming themselves or others.
After you put the obsidian in your pack that lay on your hip, Azriel couldn’t help but feel slightly smug when you announced to Cassian and Rhysand that you wanted to fly with him. If he hadn’t had so much self control over his entire body, he swore his wings would have fluttered at the sudden attention you were giving him, the ability to hold you felt like a privilege and he would not let it go to waste.
Ignoring the stupid sound Cass made at your decision, Azriel took the immediate opportunity to gently lift you into his arms as his brothers winnowed to the Spring Court borders. He could smell the slight sour smell in the air of indignation coming from either Rhysand or Cassian and, by the Cauldron, he was definitely going to be preening about this for a little while.
“They will never understand what it’s like for us. Being in-between.” Azriel did not know where the words came from, only that it was true once it was said. He knew, had spent years knowing, what it was like to be one with the darkness, with the shadows. Not even the High Lord of the Night Court could truly understand the depths nor the seduction it felt in one's very veins, embedded in the core of their souls.
He looked down at you and saw you for who you were. A shadow-walker.
There was a hint of confusion across your face but Rhysand’s return quickly dismissed it. “Don’t squirm too much, Feyre,” his High Lord and brother said just as he winnowed the three of you above the sea that lined against Tamlin’s land.
His arms tightened around you as you tensed, pulling you closer and it wasn’t until the wind caressed your cheeks, flowing through your hair, did he catch a scent so distinctly yours that it filled his senses, momentarily blinding the male.
You smelled of wild honey, of wood, of starlight and freedom, everything Azriel somehow already knew and yet newly discovered. Being this close to you, the very core of him called out to you. Logically he knew that your scent was that of the honey and woods and it was the bond between you and him that was of starlight and freedom and for a long second, he let himself enjoy the high this mix gave him.
Once the hood of your cloak fell back, revealing your whole face to him, did he see you open up to the sensation of flying. He could feel your joy, feel your elation, at the sensation.
That’s what it was. He could feel you on the other side of that unmistakable mating bond between the two of you. That bond was light and airy, so unlike the darkness he walked in, that you will walk in beside him once you come to fully understand the depths of your newfound abilities. Just caressing that connection within him made Azriel smile, a deep chuckle rising from him.
Oh, Azriel could not wait for the day for him to be yours, in body and soul, in life and death.
Danger Days Chapter 16: Burn Bright
summary: finally able to leave the clinic, you and joel expose the other
content warnings: a little bit of smut, as a treat
word count: 4,373
read on ao3 / masterlist
The day finally came, you were deemed free to walk out of the clinic and do whatever you had wanted. The three of you were stuck in Dinosaur because of the hunting mishap for the past several weeks as you took your time to heal as much as you could. Joel had been asking about it nonstop, wanting to know exactly what happened out there. But, you felt in your heart, if you were to tell him the truth, it would only break his.
Missy, your vet-turned-savior, eyed you carefully as the weeks had progressed, apparently infections were a big deal to look out for which made you cringe remembering Joel’s own brush with certain infectious death.
Walking felt beautiful. You’d been not only confined to that small room inside the clinic all this time but the fresh spring air was amazing against your skin.
Not to mention your mental health.
You hardly spoke to anyone outside of Joel and Ellie save for Missy, it nagged at you but Joel was insistent that it was because the townsfolk wanted to give you some space to heal. Anytime you had asked about certain people, he would get ten shades of weird and defensive. Something had happened, something that not even Ellie would tell you about, and it worried you.
But not enough to distract you from the pain of healing. Did anyone else know that scars as deep as the ones you received not only tingled but were constantly itchy? Yeah, neither did you. It fuckin’ sucked.
At this point, dealing with the constant monitoring, healing, cleaning, stretching, literally anything that involved this whole accident, made you wish the bear just fuckin’ killed you, this was annoying as hell.
Although it was kind of nice to see Joel fret over you constantly, it did something to your heart that made it speed up and do cartwheels in your chest. He was insistent with making sure you were comfortable and well-fed. He was mother-henning and as much as you hated being the center of that kind of attention, you found you didn’t mind it so much when it was Joel doing it.
Ellie was the one to tell you that it looked worse than what it was. Apparently the bear only sliced you up and the worst of it was containing the bleeding. In comparison to what Joel went through, apparently you were what few would call lucky- even if you didn’t feel it.
Your mind always wandered back to those few moments- just before Steve found you. The look on Helena’s face, the absolute sense of dread you felt. That’s what bothered you the most.
There wasn’t a day you walked through this life thinking you were innocent, thinking that your past wouldn’t catch up with you or the consequences for that matter. Yet in those few moments you looked at Helena and wondered what the hell did you do to deserve a fate like that.
Approaching the small loft the three of you had been staying at, you eyed the stairs like they did a personal slight against you. “I don’t know if I can make this, kiddo,” you said wearily to Ellie.
Joel was already inside and making the bed as comfortable as he could for your arrival but you couldn’t help but feel the surging gratitude and affection towards him. He kept you grounded, he kept you alive, and for that you were in his debt not that he would ever ask anything of you.
Still, a girl could hope.
Ellie put her hands on your arm, helping you up the stairs one at a time. Each time you felt like you were making progress you’d look down and see you had only moved one or two steps. The stitches in your stomach pulled taught at the movements and you’d swear they’d pop.
Aside from the scratches that marred your stomach you only had very mild wounds, things that would heal on their own and only leave very minor scars. You were lucky, so goddamn lucky.
Whatever the fuck that meant.
You still felt hazy about the whole thing, unsure if you had remembered it all correctly or if it was a part of that fog that had blanketed your mind. One thing you remembered clear as day was Helena. Her blank expression was burned into your mind, how careless she looked at you, how she turned her back on you as if she couldn’t be bothered to help. You had your suspicions of what happened out there but one thing was clear: Helena was not your ally.
Joel had been right not to trust her and you were a fool to have let her out of your sight, let yourself be caught alone in the forest without somebody else.
Cursing yourself, your pain, you had hardly realized you made it to the topmost stair leading to the loft. Joel looked breathless standing in the doorframe, his eyes wide and assessing. “You good,” he asked.
“Do I look good,” you snarked back.
Ellie tried to hide the small snort she made but you heard it. The sound pulled you from your mind and you scrunched up your face, closing your eyes, then releasing a sigh. “Sorry, I just want to get in bed.”
Neither Joel nor Ellie said anything as you limped slowly towards the bed, clutching your stomach. You could tell they were holding back, after all you had snipped at them endlessly about how you didn’t want them to fuss over you, not wanting to be babied.
Seemed like that was its own monumental task.
Wincing as you lowered yourself onto the threadbare sheets, you groaned and closed your eyes. You weren’t in as much pain as you were the first few days you woke up, where even the lights seemed to physically pain you.
You were lost in your mind, wondering about Helena. You couldn’t help but worry about how you were going to tell Joel, if you were going to tell him to begin with. You were stressed the fuck out with all of this and you knew it wasn’t good for whatever healing you had hoped to make. Every fiber of your being was burning inside you wanting to get the hell out of Dinosaur, forget about healing, forget about Helena, forget about this damn town.
Deep down the only reason you hadn’t practically gone on your knees to beg Joel for you to take Ellie and run was because you would only hold them back if it came down to a fight and that was the last thing you wanted. Not to even mention that you didn’t want to part with the duo to begin with.
That’s really why you had kept your mouth shut. Despite the harrowing journey to get to this point- dealing with life-or-death situations, cannibals, hunters, and everything in between, this was the first time you’ve been with Joel and Ellie in relative safety. It was the hint of domesticity in the loft that made you want to savor it endlessly. Cherish what could have been if you were more determined to win Joel’s stone cold heart.
That was a lie, actually, a lie you’ve told yourself countless times over these past few weeks. Joel Miller was a grump, through and through, but he cared however much he did for you, even while keeping up this false relationship between you, you saw how he provided for you and Ellie since you’d been confided to the clinic, hardly seeing anyone but your medical provider and Steve who had somehow become the unspoken liaison between Dinosaur and you.
You’d ask him time and time again what was happening outside the clinic walls only to have the subject skirted around or tabled. Joel outright refused to talk about any of it. Ellie, sweet Ellie, everytime you think you've gotten close to breaking her, she’d leave. This whole time you had figured that Ellie would be the one to cave and tell you what was going on with the townspeople only to end up frustrated and tired. They all told you to focus on yourself, to focus on healing and getting better, but you were sick and tired of the silence and the secrets. You were bored out of your mind.
Being lost in your thoughts, your ire, you didn’t notice Joel calling your name. Blinking, you turned your head to face him and hummed in acknowledgement. You watched as his brow furrowed and he looked to Ellie, jerking his chin towards the door.
Ellie nodded, seeming to understand whatever silent conversation they just had. Her arms were folded in front of her and she looked at you, tensely. Everything about her body language seemed to scream anxiety. Her lips parted to speak but she shook her head, seemingly changing her mind before bolting out the door, taking heavy steps down. Joel shut the door quietly, with it clicking into place.
He leaned his back against the door and folded his arms across his chest.
“Whatever you have to say, say it, Joel,” you said impatiently. Everybody kept walking around on eggshells with you while also being overbearing, it was irritating you because either nobody would actually talk to you or they’d just be with you in silence and you had enough.
His eyes flicked to you before he huffed. While he stood silent, you looked him over, appreciating how sun-kissed he was, how his brown hair and brown eyes really suited him, and you’d go as far as to appreciate his own patchy beard that complimented his face so well. Everything about his personality irritated you but stars, you were not a blind woman and could stare at him all day.
You barely registered that he had spoken your name again.
Joel sighed, unsure of himself as he looked you over. “We need to talk.”
“Then talk,” you shrugged. You were acting like a bitch and you knew it. For all that bravado you had calling him a grump, it was you who had felt emotionally constipated for once.
“I love you,” he blurted.
You blinked. Huh?
“I think I have loved you since the moment I realized you loved Ellie as much as I did, watching you hold her after she killed David. Seein’ you with blood on your hands to protect our daughter,” his voice cracked.
“Every day I worried if you were gonna die in that room, worried that this woman I barely knew was going to die because I didn’t protect her the same way she has protected me for months. It killed me day after day hoping you would wake up knowing that my past was going to haunt any future I had hoped to have with you.”
“Joel-.”
He cut you off, “No. I have to say this or I will regret it for as long as I live.”
Joel tore his gaze from you and covered his face for a moment before he sighed. Standing taller, hands at his side, he looked like he was gathering all his courage, all his bravery. “I would do anything to do this over if that meant I could have more time with you, sweetheart. I don’t know your favorite color, I don’t know your birthday, hell, I don’t know anything fun about you, but I do know you are a fighter; you’re honest, you’re trustworthy, and you are one hell of a woman.”
You watched him as he crossed the room and stood by the window in the makeshift kitchenette and continued. “Watching you bleed all over Steve that day forced me to sit and think about what the hell I was doin’, the way I’ve spoken to you, the way I’ve second guessed your intentions on more than one occasion when you’ve done nothin’ but prove to me that you’re exactly who Tommy said you are.”
Finding your voice, “And who did he say I was?”
“Fuckin’.” he choked. “Fuckin’ everythin’ to me.”
Joel let out a heavy shaky breath. “A year ago, before I met Ellie,” he stumbled, “there was this woman- Tess. She and I were partners of a sort. We smuggled shit in and out of Boston’s Quarantine Zone and were heartless sons of bitches together. I respected the hell out of her. Even when her scheming got her killed.”
You were stunned at his words. This was the first you ever heard of this woman, Tess, or of the day Ellie came into his life. It was a lot to absorb, nearly as much as when you found out the reason why he desperately wanted to keep the reason for taking Ellie to the Fireflies such a goddamn secret.
“Tess was,” his voice shuddered, “she was as cold as ice. Came to my bed when she wanted to fuck, left when she got what she needed. We were ruthless together but that ain’t a life. Certainly not one I want with you.”
Joel turned to look out the window, the sun kissed his face and the shadows deepened the lines that had caressed his features over the years. He looked older, more tired, but for the first time since you met Joel Miller, he looked more at peace. The way he confessed, tore open his still aching heart to tell you these things he kept hidden in the deep chambers of his thoughts just because he was scared to speak to you more than any words or actions you’d seen of the man. He was brute and loyal and you often felt that you were on the outskirts of that trust but he all but told you had a path into his heart all this time.
“Then what do you want,” you finally voice.
Almost as if you woke him from sleep, his eyes flecked towards you in a mild panic. “You,” he whispered softly. “If you’d take me, that is.”
Joel Miller was never a nervous man but you swore you saw his jaw clench and unclench as if he were afraid, afraid of your rejection. A rejection you’d never give him.
“Joel, I think I’ve been in love with your dumbass since you and I fought beside each other at the university,” you confess. It was true. You may have been blinded by your own repressed sexual urges but you weren’t, well, blind. Joel was an attractive man and when you were around him, you felt safe, even safer than you were behind the walls of Jackson.
When your words finally registered for him, his brown eyes flicked to yours and narrowed. “What,” he said slowly, almost as if in disbelief.
“I’ve spent so many nights awake thinking about what it would be like to kiss you and when you were dying,” you choked, admitting things you had never hoped to tell in fear he would have rejected you. “When you were dying, I pleaded for you to wake up. I couldn’t imagine trying to do this without you, to not show you Jackson, to hear the same stories Tommy always prattled on about but hear them from your lips.”
He still stood by the window, stunned. Neither one of you were likely to believe what was happening within these four walls. You’d been hurt, dying as he once was. As you cared for him, so he for you, but this was something altogether new and fragile, almost as if you were to breathe too hard within this room, the illusion would shatter and all these words would taste like rot on your tongue.
But you were naive enough with Joel that you were honest. You weren’t one to trust others much, often taking more than a few close calls and skirmishes out in the wilds to call people your friends, your companions, and yet… yet these past few months alongside a man and his daughter proved to you that you were still human. That you craved things.
You still craved partnership, craved affection, idle talk, and smiles. You had shut down those needs and wants years ago, forbidding such things while you were a mindless killer for the Fireflies. None of that mattered now.
Now you had a chance at being a true team with this man and his girl that sent an ache through your heart, one you didn’t want to ignore anymore and wanted to fully embrace. “Come here, Joel,” you asked, raising your arms to gesture him to you.
He takes slow steps towards you, almost afraid. In your heart you know he isn’t sure of himself, of whatever this was between the two of you and yet you hold your arms up for him, waiting for him. “Are you sure,” he asks,
You hold his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, he says your name and when he does, you smile. It’s so nice to hear him say your name. You nod. “Never been surer of anythin’ in my life.”
He puts one knee on the bed and then the other, finally coming to lean into your arms. Whatever this was felt strangely like kicking your boots off after a long day, like the first sip of hot coffee in the morning, like the sigh of relief when you were safe within Jackson after a daunting patrol. Home. He felt like home.
Joel brings his forehead to yours and the two of you hold each other like that for a moment. He surely did not want to agitate your stitches too much and truthfully you were too sore to move around much either. For all his strength, his temper, his brutality, he was awfully gentle with you in this state and you’d think that maybe, maybe it was nice to be taken care of once in a while.
The two of you breathed each other in and you felt safe.
Inching your lips closer to him, a heat grew deep in your belly, as you moved to capture his lips in yours. It was the first time you ever kissed him with passion in your blood, with your whole heart behind the gesture. It wasn’t for show, not for whatever fake relationship the two of you started weeks ago when you all met this seemingly friendly yet untrustworthy group from Dinosaur.
His lips were chapped as he met you halfway, practically clashing into you, almost as if he had been holding back from his own common sense for too damn long and finally, finally, got to unleash it on you.
Yes, your body screamed, More, more, more.
Both of you lost yourselves in the kiss, letting yourselves finally get the chance to explore the other with your mouths. His rough calloused hands, marred with years of experience, of survival, explored your body. Trailing themselves from your face to your neck, feeling, wanting.
“Joel,” you whined.
Your body was heating up beneath his touch, you felt like fire and brimstone, aching. Feeling down his front, you knew he felt it too. His body was rock solid against yours, all entirely masculine. “Joel.”
He groaned against your lips, jutting his hips forward. “I know, baby, I know.” He pulled back and his eyes roamed over your body, your dishevelment, and you felt naked in his gaze. Felt that for the first time in weeks, you felt seen for who you were, death on your hands and all, and yet for some reason, it didn’t seem to make a damn difference for the man hovering over you. “I can’t,” he choked out.
Your heart stopped for a beat. “Can’t?”
For a moment, panic rises in your chest. Swirls of emotion blindside you. Anger, regret, embarrassment, all a blur. Joel seemed to have noticed this shift within you and his large hands cup your face. He says your name, almost like a prayer, full of reverence and humility. “I don’t regret this. Not you, never you,” he says honestly. His eyes, full of warmth and adoration, peer deep into yours. “You just got injured, I want to make this about you.”
Your eyes now trail over him, watching closely as his throat bobs until it finally clicks for you. This man has suffered too many losses in his life, he all but said to you just moments ago he did not want to lose you either, and hearing that you have been pining over him for nearly as long as he has likely makes him want to cherish you in the only way he knows how to show his affection. By physical touch. Pleasure and passion.
He clears his throat and confesses. “I want every person outside this loft to know that I am yours in every goddamn sense of the word but for now, I want to make you feel good.”
Your mouth goes dry at his little speech. You’d wanted to taste and lick this man for weeks, no matter how disgusting the two of you have gotten out on the road and in the back of your mind, you’re practically begging for him to bless you with every kiss, every bite, every goddamned hickey, soft caresses masked under dirty words and rough manhandling with praises.
Grabbing the back of his head, you pull him forward once more, giving him a deep kiss. “Make me feel good,” you ask.
Smiling against your lips, Joel presses soft kisses down your jaw. One he begins to leave loving kisses against your neck, does he turn to biting. He nips and nips, never in one place too long until he latches right by your pulse and turns the area into a mark. A bruise of his own making. A signal to everyone that you are his just as much as he is yours, for real this time. No bullshit, no fake marriage. This is all you.
Expert fingers began to unbutton your borrowed flannel, as he lowered his attention and softly kissed over your now exposed bandages. He was soft and tender around your injuries and not once did you wince in pain or feel a moment of hesitation. You watched in silence as he slid your jeans and boots off, being mindful to not move you around too much as he pulled down your panties as well, until he was kneeling before you.
“You sure,” he asked, nearly breathless. He was checking in with you, making sure this was what you wanted, that you chose this, chose him.
Nodding. Under normal circumstances, you’d talk back and make him work for the honor but right now the two of you felt like exposed livewire, ready to burn this entire town down if you didn’t have the other this very moment. “Please,” you begged.
Without making you wait, Joel leveled himself with your exposed sex, your exposed heart, and took them into his hands gently. He played with that little bundle of nerves between your legs and caressed your thighs. The moment he used his tongue was the moment you practically gave yourself over to him, to use or keep, it didn’t matter anymore.
“Oh,” you sighed and sunk into the pillows beneath you. His tongue worked itself in tandem with his fingers. He took long swipes up and down and back again while his fingers passionately massaged, helping you catch your high. “Joel,” you said breathlessly.
“That’s my gal,” he praised against your skin.
Then he hooked both of his thick fingers within you, pressing against your walls that made you see stars. “Oh, oh-,” you sighed.
Working a little faster now, Joel spelled out his infatuation with you with his tongue and fingers, not once relenting until you felt that cord deep within you snap and your orgasm flooded your senses. Taking deep breaths, you hadn’t realized Joel had kissed his way back up above you until your eyes opened, meeting his.
The two of you were breathless, admiring the other. You never got to see him like this, so unguarded. Then he smirked, “You good?”
Smiling. “Better than good. I’m great.” It was true, you couldn’t feel your legs but you sure as hell felt that pulsating need between your legs thrum happily. Once more you buried your fingers in his curls, pulling him forward. You tasted yourself on his lips and you don’t think you mind it one bit.
After a while, he pulled himself up, roaming around the room to clean up the mess he made with you as well as adjusting his own pants where you clearly noted the hard-on he had within. He picked up your discarded clothes, your boots, and put them away, then pulling out clean clothes for you. “Joel, I'm not a child,” you complain, although secretly you were smitten by his caring nature with you.
“I know you’re not,” he said. “But I still want to do it.”
Being as careful as you could, you let him help you get dressed once more. The remaining stitches pulled and ached, nevermind the bruising. After this was over, you’d never take the ability to move freely for granted ever again.
As the two of you finally cleaned up enough, there was a hurried knock on the door as Ellie’s voice came back. “Open up! I got food.”
He walked right up to the door and let the teen in as she burst through like a whirlwind. She laid three plates down, filled with something delicious judging by the smell. What caught your attention wasn’t the food but rather the troubled look on Ellie’s face as she stared at you.
She looked back to Joel and spilled, “They want to know if Helena is gonna die.”
What?
“What are you talking about kid,” you ask.
Joel cursed under his breath before he came in front of you. Grabbing one of your hands, he looked down at your fingers entwining naturally, fitting the spaces between the other as if it were a missing puzzle piece. “We know,” he said lowly. “The whole damn town knows what Helena did to you.”
Your breath is stolen away, unsure of what to say.
Joel continues. “And it’s up to you if she should pay with her life by your hands.”
OH
‘reader insert acotar but 🔪mafia🔪 edition’
YES
YES PLEASE
summary: a tiny intro to acotar mafia edition, reader is a blacksmith in the free lands, living alone just outside Anfield where they receive a call to meet their waiting client.
word count: 758
notes: not sure if i'll continue this but i have a lot of thoughts on this particular au already and.... i think it might be my next project after i finish high lady? maybe? idk. i would love feedback!
high lady masterlist
A blood debt. It had been months since you’d seen one, since you received that deathly notification that told you the free lands were only so free. You didn’t know the man who stared back at you on your phone, didn’t recognize him from the photo, but you pitied what was to come, and were ever so slightly curious as to his crime.
Seeing his photo meant he was to be dead soon.
Seeing his photo meant that he was to receive no aid and to be collectively forgotten about from society.
Sighing, you pocketed your cell and went back to work. This man meant nothing to you and you needed to focus. You’d been busy for days working on this new weapon that was commissioned to you. You’d been a blacksmith for nearly a decade, since you were a teenager, eager to work with your hands in an environment where you could work in solitude. From the moment you first picked up your hammer and worked metal to mold into shape on your anvil
Turning on the power hammer and welcoming the hum to distract your thoughts away, you inserted the piece you were working with into the machine, shaping the end of the knife into where it will slide into the pommel you were slowly making as well.
The monotony of this work, waking up and coming to your forge, was why you enjoyed keeping to yourself. The quietness was lonely on some days but you would always choose loneliness over betrayal.
Finishing up for the day, you wiped the sweat from your brow, you looked out the city. Although you lived by yourself on a farm, practically as far away from the city as possible, you could see the surrounding area for miles, could see who dared to venture out to meet you. It was close enough to Anfield to have steady clientele and far enough that if they wanted your services, they would have to venture to you to get it.
They always came to you.
Guns and the like had been banned and outlawed nearly half a century ago after an all out war between every single mafia family as well as the free lands, where you resided. It was chaotic, bloody, and the worst of humanity. It was why blacksmiths like you were coveted, many seeking your services and paying as much as they did for your work.
You couldn’t recall if you had ever seen a gun in person, felt the weight of the metal, of the bullets inside. There were photographs in your history books, a few locked up behind hardened glass that could not break in museums even. A part of you wondered why the families to the north would allow themselves to be without such weapons, but it was none of your business. That’s how you survived.
Suddenly, your phone began to vibrate in your pocket, pulling you from your thoughts. Checking the ID quickly, you answered it. “What?”
Your voice came out gravelly from disuse, making you sound harsher than you meant. It didn’t matter. This was still a business call. They got what they wanted and you will be paid soon for services rendered. There was no need to be kind.
“Blacksmith,” they called you, “been a while.”
“What,” you repeated, voice still scratchy and sounding more irritated.
The man chuckled on the other end of the line. “I’m in need of my products. Are they ready?”
“Yes. I can deliver them tonight.” You shifted on your feet. You hated going to the drop-off zone for this particular client. The meetings with this person tended to leave you feeling antsy, anxious, and you had no idea why. They didn’t scare you but there was just something off about him and his guards, about where he chose to meet. It was never at your house, never. He kept his boundary with you as you had with him.
Nothing personal was ever spoken as you always emphasized before working with any clients, only that no one asked your name, and no one entered your house. Meetings were to take place in either your forge or a private location. Was this dangerous, being a single woman? Maybe. But too many people respected your work and oftentimes that was enough to deter would-be thieves or danger towards you.
“Expect Andres at midnight. He will pay you what is owed and more for your discretion,” he said just before you heard the familiar click of the call being ended.
Dammit Tamlin.
Joel (The Last of Us) Masterlist
Joel Miller x Reader/OFC - no y/n
Danger Days (series) - slowburn, all your favorite fic tropes, eventual romance/smut, follows the events of tlou therefore canon-typical violence, #JoelLives
Chapter 1: Summertime
Chapter 2: Kill All Your Friends
Chapter 3: Teenagers
Chapter 4: The Ghost of You
Chapter 5: Skylines and Turnstiles
Chapter 6: Look Alive, Sunshine
Chapter 7: I Never Told You What I Do For A Living
Chapter 8: Save Yourself, I’ll Hold Them Back
Chapter 9: Give ‘em Hell, Kid
Chapter 10: Demolition Lovers
Chapter 11: Fake Your Death
Chapter 12: I Don’t Love You
Chapter 13: Someone Out There Loves You
Chapter 14: The Light Behind Your Eyes
Chapter 15: AMBULANCE
Chapter 16: Burn Bright
surrender the night - oneshot, slightly angsty with soft intimacy, hints at bratty reader, vulnerable joel, set after the events of Danger Days, can be read as a standalone.
updated as of November 17th, 2021
