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forzalando · 2 months ago

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boo’d up

summary: a night out enjoying some haunted houses leads to a few surprises pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader (Y/N, use of she/her), implied pairings of alex x charles, rebecca x carlos, & carmen x george wc: 1.6k warnings: descriptions of a haunted house (including darkness, tight spaces, screaming), mentions of being afraid/panicking, cursing author's note: guys i had this idea (because this is based on a true story/real-life experience where i was Y/N in this exact scenario except it was not a hot guy/oscar piastri, it was a young woman and i scared the absolute shit out of her). so i took a lot of creative liberties here. anyway! this is completely un-edited and complete garbage but i couldn't get it out of my head and i haven't written in 12 years. i figured it was time. go crazy!

It was a cold October night; the wind whistling through half-barren trees caused a slight shiver to trickle down your body. The sun had set on the drive to your destination – an old farm in the middle of nowhere, which your friends had pointed out multiple times was a recipe for disaster. You shamelessly pulled the upcoming birthday card to get them to agree to the weekend activity: a haunted house compound you’d read about online that had impeccable reviews – four different houses for $40 was a deal you couldn’t pass up.

A massive, dark, dilapidated house stood in front of you – your first haunted destination of the evening. Screams from inside pierced through the air and sent waves of uneasiness and excitement through you; you’d fallen prey to falsely advertised haunted houses in the past, so you hoped with all your might that these did not disappoint.

“I should’ve stayed home,” Carmen grumbled as she pouted behind you in line. “It’s freezing, dark, and I have a million things I could be working on.”

“Oh, come on, Carm,” you teased, lightly punching her arm. “You’re telling me this isn’t your ideal Saturday night?”

“It’s definitely mine,” Rebecca chirped. “I love Halloween – all the creepy crawlies, scary movies, witches, chainsaw-wielding psychopaths. And candy, can’t forget the candy.”

You laughed and looked around at your small group, your smile faltering a bit when your eyes landed on Alex. She’d wrapped herself up tightly in her sweater, and you could tell she was trying her hardest to put on a brave face, but you saw right through the façade.

“Alex, we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” you urged. “I promise you, it’s absolutely ok.”

She shook her head quickly, linking her arm through yours. “I’ll be fine – it’s all fake, right? And I’ll just hold onto you the whole time; I’m still betting that you’re going to be the most scared out of all of us, even if you disagree.”

“Well, we’re about to find out,” you sang, pulling Alex forward to follow Rebecca and Carmen into the menacing-looking house.

Immediately upon entering, you were plunged into complete darkness. The hallways were just wide enough to walk through sideways – if you tried to walk straight, your shoulders scraped against the walls. People were incessantly banging on the walls beside you – screaming and shouting in your ears, your face, following you as you tried to shimmy as quickly as you could through the maze.

You could feel your heart rate kicking up, and each time someone banged on the wall and screamed near you, it began to beat even faster.

In the midst of your panic, you realized Alex’s hand was no longer in yours. You reached back blindly until you were gripping her sweater-clad forearm and started pulling, but surprisingly, pulling with very little movement.

“Alex, move faster,” you pleaded, growing more and more impatient, more panicked. It felt as if she was trying to keep you from running, trying to pull you back and keep you in that godforsaken house. Either the latter or she had suddenly gained a shit ton of muscle, preventing you from pulling her along with ease. “I’m scared, okay? You win, I’m terrified. Now, please try to keep up, I can’t see a goddamned thing.”

The horrors seemed endless – it was still pitch black, and the further you went into the house, the smaller the hallways became. As soon as you started to think you’d never get out and would be stuck in that nightmare forever, you saw streaks of moonlight ahead and burst through a black curtain into the cool, night air.

Gasping for a breath, you dropped Alex’s arm and started yelling as you spun to face her.

“Alex, what the hell – oh my god, you’re not Alex.”

Stood behind you, rubbing their wrist, was an impossibly attractive guy around your age with floppy brown hair and a look of concern on his face.

“You’ve got a hell of a grip,” he mumbled, a thick Australian accent hitting your ears. “Think you might have bruised me.”

You could hear Rebecca and Carmen snickering somewhere behind you, “Yeah, Y/N, you bruised him.”

It took everything in you, but you ignored your friends and focused your attention on the handsome stranger before you.

“I am so, so sorry; I thought you were my friend, and I was panicking just a bit, trying to get out of there as fast as I could. Plus, Alex was afraid before we even got in the house and – wait where is Alex?”

You started looking around frantically, convinced that you’d left your friend stranded in that abomination of a haunted house, only to hear her giggling and chatting with someone just a few feet away.

“It looks like Charles rescued your friend,” the handsome stranger shared. “Since you were too focused on ripping my arm out of my socket.”

“I said I was sorry – ” you started to say, but as you turned back towards him, you noticed a smirk of amusement on his face.

He put his hands in the air in surrender and laughed, “Hey, I’m just messing with you; no actual harm done. I’m Oscar, by the way.”

“Y/N,” you whispered back, feeling a sudden wave of shyness come over you now that the initial shock was wearing off. “And I really am sorry, I hope I didn’t freak you out too much.”

You froze as he stepped closer to you and lowered his voice. “Can you keep a secret?”

Nodding in response, you held your breath as he leaned in even closer to whisper in your ear. “That was absolutely terrifying and I’m glad I had you guiding me through.”

Heat rose up your neck as he pulled away slowly, a soft smile on his face and kind eyes to match.

“Well, I’d use the word guiding very lightly,” you laughed. “More like yanking or heaving, well, trying to. I could barely move you, and I was pulling with all my might. You must eat some serious amounts of spinach.”

“Spinach?”

“You know, Popeye? The sailor man? I’m strong to the finish, cause I eats me spinach?”

He shook his head and your cheeks heated in embarrassment – Popeye? Really?

Before you could die of humiliation and make one of the houses actually haunted, he bumped his shoulder against yours and laughed.

“Must be an American thing – I’m new here.”

“Well, maybe I can show you around,” you offered, bumping his shoulder right back. “I’ve been told I’m a great tour guide.”

“I’d like that very much. Maybe you can start by taking me through the rest of these houses? You can hold my hand – just in case you get scared again.”

He spoke with all the confidence in the world, but his cheeks and nose were flushed a gorgeous pink that you could see even in the moonlight.

You slipped your hand in his and turned your attention back to your friends, who were watching with wide eyes.

“Leave it to Y/N to accidentally almost kidnap a complete stranger in a pitch-black haunted house, and they turn out to be her dream guy,” Rebecca teased. “Looks like Alex found someone too – what did we do wrong, Carmen?”

Before Carmen could answer, two voices shouted from behind and caught everyone’s attention – two more devastatingly handsome men running towards your group.

“Hey, sorry we’re late, Carlos got us lost,” a British voice rang out.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Carmen and Rebecca smile giddily and high-five each other. Before walking over to the newcomers, they winked in your direction and whispered simultaneous “thank you’s”.

You winked back and squeezed Oscar’s hand a little tighter before leading everyone towards the next house.

“I think this next one is clown-themed,” someone mused from behind, causing you to stiffen.

“Clowns?” You whispered, your steps slowing to a near stop.

Alex giggled – “See, Y/N, I told you that you’d end up being the most scared! You should’ve listened to us when we tried to change your mind about coming!”

You turned your gaze towards Oscar, his eyes already on you and that adorable pink blush still prominent on his cheeks. “You know what, I’m actually really glad we came, even if I hate the dark, hate tight spaces, hate clowns, and will probably hate whatever else comes after that.”

“I’m glad you came too,” Oscar replied, adjusting his grip to link his fingers through yours. “And don’t worry, I’ll protect you from any clowns.”

“Mate, you’re terrified of clowns,” Charles ribbed. “You literally said on the way here that if there were any clown-themed houses, you would leave.”

“Gee, thanks, Charles, you could have just kept that to yourself for the sake of my pride.”

“We can protect each other,” you offered. “Or if it’s too much, we can grab some seriously overpriced snacks and wait for everyone else to go through the rest of the houses.”

“How about we face our fear but if either of us screams at any point in the house, you let me take you on a date?”

“I mean, we’re both afraid of clowns, it’s bound to happen,” you acknowledged.

He smiled at you; a heart-stopping, full-mouthed grin, and clarified, “Exactly.”

As soon as you stepped into the haunted house, only one foot each in the door before anything or anyone had even popped out, you both let out blood-curdling shrieks.

taglist: @scuderiahoney @lam-ila @nebarious @chocolatepoetryfun @maxlarens @coff33andb00ks @katsu28 @sof1shticated @viikysmile @scuderiarossa @littlegrapejuice @alexxavicry @priopp123 @wobblymug @ctrlyomomma @ladystardust05 @reiofsuns2001 @foreveralbon @anaviieiraaa

taglist post: here!! if you’d like to be added!

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri halloween #f1 halloween #f1 x reader #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #formula 1 #f1 #op81 #oscar piastri #f1 fic

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Five

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Gore, violence, some angst

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Meryl struggled forward, trying to keep from tripping on his floor-length robes. A head of ivory hair trailed out after him at a leisurely pace. A blood red hand at her side gripped a slick shortsword. The blade mimicked the cruel curve of her horns.

You remembered her from the party.

Teal silk and blood and the lake.

Koschei.

His hand dove into the folds of his robe, withdrawing a dull knife. You caught her smile before she dodged Meryl’s swift kick, sword arching down in a swing that cut cleanly through his back leg.

You didn’t stay to watch the second swing that nearly separated Meryl’s head from his shoulders. The street was still eerily silent.

Meryl hadn’t gotten the chance to raise the alarms.

You ran to the other side of your apartment, knocking one of the windows open. The smell of smoke, acrid and bitter, flooded your nose. Your stomach turned, nearly emptying itself of your dinner.

A blanket of haze covered the bottom floor, the flickering of flames beginning to lick up the outer edges of the massive room.

The Alcove - your home - was on fire.

Your apartment was built separately from The Alcove with no direct path linking the two together. Normally you would simply walk down the stairs and enter through one of The Alcove’s main entrances with its hand-carved archways and stone pegasuses. But with the murderous female lurking outside, that was simply not an option.

You pulled the neck of your sweater up and over the lower half of your face, ignoring the stinging of your eyes. You steeled your nerves and slid your foot out, finding purchase on the decorative molding that lined the walls. Many times you’d thought about scaling the walls instead of trekking down dozens of flights of stairs. You’d never actually done it.

The soft skin of your palms protested as you shimmied your way down and then jumped the last ten feet onto the walkway. There was no grace in your movements, and no time to dwell on the rough landing before you began flying down the stairs, begging the Mother and Meryl to give you time to cross the expanse of the library.

Meryl’s apartment lay on the opposite side of The Alcove on the first floor, and unlike your apartment, had a door leading directly to the stacks. The white rune, carved into Meryl’s door, stared at you like the eye of a god.

Some vague myths about ancient giants crossed your mind. They’d been worshiped in these lands before the rise of the High Lords with brains so vast you could climb in through their ears and walk amongst the grooves like a child in a corn maze. You felt like that child now, the familiar turns and patterns of the atheneum slipping away into mist.

You had no patience to walk the last flights of stairs. You threw yourself off the lower walkway, ankle twisted painfully beneath you as you crumpled onto the floor.

Just make it to the door. Just make it to the door.

The first duty of a Librarian was to save the atheneum. Always.

Again that white rune stared at you from across the floor, winking with the flashes of firelight as the flames gorged themselves on book pages.

Save the Alcove.

You ignored the pain in your leg, running towards the door with gritted teeth. Three bodies littered the floor, blood blossoming around colorful robes like roses in springtime.

Save the Alcove.

You wrenched the knife from the sliver in the wall, slicing your palm open with a sharp intake of breath. Warm blood spilled out, dripping onto the floor and then down the wall as you pressed your palm against the rune, muttering the words all Librarians knew by heart - words that would seal The Alcove from the outside world and draw all oxygen from within.

“Beali tchnemonon aschzernai belar-” The rune began to glow, rivers of white light tracing the carving on the door. The doors began to groan as threads of magic shot outward, weaving through the stone and preparing to seal it shut.

“Stop. Say nothing.” A voice said, soft as velvet and hard as scales.

Your tongue froze up, the rune dimming as teeth sank into the soft flesh of your mind and began to tear through your mental shields.

___________

Azriel chewed carefully, washing down the meat with a swig of sweet wine. All throughout dinner Helion had been glowering at him, one hand gripping the golden hilt of his steak knife like he was prepared to aim it between Azriel’s eyes.

“Did you spend the whole day with her?” Feyre had asked him when he’d finally arrived for dinner twenty minutes late.

Everyone else was dressed in their court attire. Even Cassian had changed out of his leathers and was currently pulling at the high collar of his shirt. But not Azriel. He’d arrived late in plain clothes, hair disheveled and face impassive. He gave a nod in response to Feyre’s silent question before settling down beside Cassian. His brother threw him a knowing wink.

Rhysand looked pleased with himself. Feyre looked pleased. Everyone was pleased… everyone but Helion.

“Finally! The Shadowsinger arrives!” The comment rolled off his tongue and fell flat, “Now we can eat.”

“I apologize, Helion. I lost track of time.” Azriel said truthfully. He had lost track of time. He wished he’d lost track of it for longer. Then he might still be in your living room, dreaming about kissing you.

Dinner was a business affair. Theories about Koschei’s next plans punctuated by the appearance of roasted chestnuts, soft-boiled quail eggs, honey rolls, and stuffed duck on the table.

“He can’t escape the lake.” Rhysand said, “Though the gods know he’s trying.”

“He can’t escape yet.” Helion countered, brows furrowed in concern, “There’s a piece we’re missing to this.”

“The Cauldron.” Feyre ran a lazy finger over the lip of her wineglass to disguise the unease settling in her stomach, “He’s searching for it.” She tilted her head towards Azriel, “Az found evidence that some of Koschei’s followers have been breaking into the temples further up north.”

Helion shook his head, “It wouldn’t do them any good to search an old hiding place. And it’s not like the legs of the Cauldron are with the priestesses anymore. They must be looking for something else.”

“What else is in the temples except old books and ceremonial artifacts?” Cassian asked.

“Old books can sometimes be the most powerful objects in the world.” Helion said with a small smirk, “I wouldn’t look down on them so much.”

“Tell that to a sword.”

“Tell that to a two-thousand page text thrown at your head.”

Cassian grinned, “I would dodge it. Easy.”

“With that inflated head of yours, I’d hardly be able to miss.”

Azriel smiled inwardly. That sounded like something you might say. Not even four hours since he’d last seen you and he was missing your gentle smile, the crease in your brows when you read, the occasional jangle of your bracelets when you shook out the cramps in your wrist.

Feyre thought long and hard, staring at the surface of her wine like the answers might materialize there. She couldn’t get her mind off the Cauldron. The most important events that had taken place in the last fifty years could be tied back to its magic. The magic that currently flooded through Nesta and Elain’s veins.

With its power anything seemed possible - even separating a deity like Koschei from the lake where he’d been confined for centuries.

“What if they’re not looking for the Cauldron itself?” Everyone looked at her, waiting to hear the High Lady’s next words. “What if they’re just looking for something tied to it?”

Cassian dropped his knife to the table with a clang.

“Nesta.” He breathed. He immediately reached out across the bond, feeling Nesta stir on the other side. She was still safe in Velaris, although he pitied any poor soul that tried to go after her.

“Or Elain.” Feyre continued.

It’s no secret they were Made. They wouldn’t need to break into a temple to figure that out or to find out where they’re staying. Rhysand sent his bonds down the bond, one hand reaching out to rub her thigh.

Nesta and Elain could handle themselves, but that didn’t mean Feyre could shed the protective nature she’d developed through her formative human years.

Who else then? Who else has taken power from the Cauldron?

Jurian.

He’s human. He has no magic that Koschei could want. And the human queen has been long dead too.

Helion glanced at Cassian who only waved him off. Rhys and Feyre did this often - getting lost in their private conversations and only sharing their thoughts at the very end.

Meanwhile, Azriel was having his own private thoughts.

Immunity, the innate biological process of recognizing and protecting against foreign entities, is a phenomenon that can be extended and applied to magic.

“How does it apply to mating bonds?” Azriel asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the room.

The fire crackled steadily, warming your back as you sat hunched over a volume titled “An Exegesis on the Works of Bhenaui The Stone Giant”.

“Hmmm?” You mumbled.

He pointed to the last page of your paper where an introductory sentence on mating bonds had ended abruptly.

“You didn’t finish your thought.”

“Well, that’s because I’m not completely sure what my thoughts are… at least not yet.”

“Would you tell me your thoughts? Even if you’re not sure?”

You motioned for him to hand it over, the papers floating over to you on a phantom hand made of shadows. You flipped through the pages absentmindedly, your previous thoughts coming to mind as you held your work.

“Parents, children, siblings - they all tend to have similar forms of magic. Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.”

Azriel nodded. He’d already read that section of your paper. Although the thought of sharing some magical connection with his half-brothers and father made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny your logic.

“I always thought that mating bonds must be some special extension of that. Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

“Like the difference between two sets of keys, versus a key and a lock.”

“Maybe? I suppose that’s not a terrible analogy to make, but I’m not sure.” You shot him a smile, “You’re beginning to think like a Librarian, Azriel.”

His heart sang in his chest, shadows flurrying around him. You’d quickly learned that his shadows gave away more than his face ever would.

“What an insult to Librarians.” He quipped.

You snorted and shook your head, tossing a pen at his head. He caught it easily, just as you knew he would.

A faint flutter of panic grew in the background of his mind, unprompted and unexpected. He pushed it to the side, focusing his attention back on what you’d told him back at your apartment.

“Magic that recognizes family members the same way that blood does.”

Koschei had been brother to The Weaver and The Bone Carver - both dead after centuries, if not more, of confinement to The Prison and The Cottage. It didn’t make sense for him to be searching for them. Perhaps he wanted the Cauldron to bring them back from the dead, but even that seemed like the stretch. Koschei didn’t strike Azriel as the kind of being to care for the safety and life of his siblings.

If Azriel were in Koschei’s position, he wouldn’t be after the Cauldron. Not necessarily. The thing he’d really be dying to know was who had separated him from his power, and how.

“Magic that’s not the same, but perfectly complementary.”

Like a lock and a key.

“Uh… Azriel?” Cassian gently grabbed Azriel’s shoulder, shaking him.

Inky shadows climbed up his hand, the light of his red siphons swallowed up by the darkness that had begun to pour off of Azriel.

That panic was steadily growing into something he couldn’t ignore and he couldn’t stop thinking of you. You with your brilliant ideas and a theory that he still couldn’t quite grasp, like he was trying to hold salt water in his hands.

“Something-something feels wrong.” Azriel gasped out, a scarred hand clutching at his chest. “Cass, something’s not right. Something’s not right.” He repeated the words until he finally recognized what was wrong.

It wasn’t his panic that he was feeling. It was yours.

___________

You screamed, thrashing about on the floor as you gripped your head between your hands.

Get out. Get out. Get out.

You pulled at your hair, slapped your skull like that would be what it took for the female to relinquish her hold on your mind.

She was buried inside like a parasite - a virus slowly taking over the cellular machinery, copying it all down as she rifled through your memories as easily as a picture book.

You shrank away from her as she lingered on one memory in particular.

It was your fortieth birthday, although you didn’t look any older than eight. Helion sat on the floor, long legs extending beyond the cramped space between the fireplace and the couch. It was a small apartment you shared with your mother with its pale green walls and yellow daisy curtains.

He filled every inch of it with light. His smile was so dazzling you thought he must have been one of the fairytale knights you’d spent every night obsessing over. He certainly played the part, gifting you a wooden pegasus with wings that hovered a foot above the ground when you asked it to.

“You can’t keep doing this, Helion.” You’d stayed hidden at the top of the stairs, your pegasus nuzzling into your side and then going still.

“She’s my daughter, Leda. What am I meant to do?”

“You’re meant to leave us alone.”

“Leda-”

“She’s growing too slowly. You saw her today, she should be fully grown by now.”

“...I know.”

“If anyone finds out who she is… the power she possesses. Mother help us…”

“I know. I’m-I’m sorry, Leda.”

“You can’t keep doing this.”

That was the last childhood memory you’d had of him, and when the pegasus’s magic had worn off, leaving him stiff and immoble, the novelty of having a knight for a father had worn off too.

You were crying now, tears streaming down your ash-stained cheeks as the female above you clicked her forked tongue. Her eyes were two chips of moonstone split by wide, rectangular pupils.

“A High Lord’s bastard.” She sang with pleasure. “How fun.” She leaned down and grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking it up so forcefully you had to bite your tongue to keep from screaming. “No. No.” She clicked her tongue in disappointment, “Don’t stop. I want to hear you scream. Scream.”

With a roar of anger you latched onto her arm, immediately feeling a flood of memories and emotion pour into your mind.

Sick, twisted satisfaction. Pleasure. Meryl’s decapitated body hastily hidden behind a pillar. When she’d gone down into the lower levels of The Alcove, searching for the diary, she hadn’t expected to see him there. Hadn’t expected him to give her a hard time. Hadn’t expected him to fight back.

The three other fae, slaughtered in haste. Koschei would not be pleased. He would not let her join him on the lake. But she had the book. She had the book.

The female hissed, the disorienting motion of being in your mind while you were in hers causing panic. She’d been trained to keep others out of her mind. She’d endured far more training than you had. So why couldn’t she kick you out?

More memories. More emotions. Rising fear. You soothed it using the training she’d received. She wasn’t the virus. You were. You felt all her memories. The terrible aftermath of war on the continent. The feeling of being burned alive.

The female was trying to break away from you now, but you wouldn’t let her, not even as the smoke grew so thick it clogged your lungs. You felt her memories as if they were your own, and so long as she was in your mind, she was forced to experience it all as well.

His power is beneath the lake. Trapped. Buried. He can’t leave his soul behind. Can’t diminish himself any further. He can’t leave the lake.

Koschei.

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

Get the key. Get the key. Get the key.

The scream of her brother’s voice as Koschei splits his head in two.

When your eyes burst open they’re so bright the female turns her face away, sobbing. Your blood soaked hand searches the floor for the knife you dropped, the knife you can see is less than a foot away. But you’re not looking at it. She is.

She registers what you plan to do. Every thought of hers reflected in your mind like a ghostly afterimage. But it’s too late.

You grip the knife in your hand.

Slam it through her eye and out the back of her skull.

It’s a strange feeling to be in someone’s mind when they die. To feel like it’s your body slowly fading from existence with one final breath.

The female’s body slumps motionless over yours, and her final memories of her brother play out one last time.

…Then it’s just silence and the crackling of the ever approaching flames.

When Azriel reaches The Alcove, the windows have all burst, angry tongues of fire licking the sky and gasping for breath.

“Y/N!” Azriel roars, shooting off towards the door so hard the cobblestones crack beneath his feet. “Y/N!”

White lights begin to splinter up the stone walls, filling invisible cracks that begin to take the shape of ancient runes. Swirls, symbols, repeating lines trace their way over the windows, sealing them shut as the flames start to hiss in protest, eating up the oxygen faster than they can draw breath.

The door has been blown apart, the inside of The Alcove nothing more than a hurricane of ash and smoke. But when Azriel reaches them, he slams into an impenetrable wall of magic.

“NO!” He crashes against the barrier. Light scatters outward, but holds against the shadows that burst forth from Azriel’s body. Power explodes from his siphons, but still the magic holds.

“Y/N! Y/N!” He flies up to the windows and tries again to no avail.

The bond is still there, burning away in his chest with a passion.

He will not lose you. Not like this. Not today.

He touches back down on the ground, legs braced on the street as blue light begins to wrap around his chest and arms. His shadows mix in with them like ink in a tumultuous sea.

He’s about to let his power flood out when he sees it - two dim pinpricks of light that pass through the barrier as easily as sparrows diving through the air.

You’re nothing more than a gray shadow, your knees and hands coated in a mixture of ash and blood, as you emerge from the roaring flames. Your eyes gleam a pale yellow, seeing and unseeing at the same time. You make it to the front steps and when you stumble, Azriel is there to catch you, one arm looping around your waist and you’re immediately thrust into another memory.

It’s dark and cold in the cellar. So dark that even after two days the most Azriel can do to prove he still exists is to slap his legs, then his arms, then his face. Then he knows he’s still alive. It’s the pain that helps him remember.

“Y/n. Y/n. I need you to look at me.” Your eyes are unfocused, still glowing as Azriel helps you walk forward, one hand clasping yours close to his chest. “Y/n. Y/n. Please. Darling, please.”

His mother sings to him, a gentle, sweet melody that’s filled with more sorrow than words. His hands are heavy with gauze and ointment, the lingering pain magnifying and shooting through his small body whenever he moves them to touch his mother’s face or to wrap his arms around her neck.

But this is the only hour he’ll get with her this week. So he ignores the pain. He savors only the feeling of his mother’s arms around his weak back and the song she sings, hanging onto every word and committing them to memory.

You’re vaguely aware of Helion’s deep voice shouting your name. When he touches you, you can feel his relief as acutely as the rumble of thunder before rain. The emotion rolls over you, calming your heart.

For a brief moment you’re still the little girl he placed on top of the pegasus on your fortieth birthday. For a brief moment your mother is still alive, suppressing the smile on her lips as she watches the creature wobble to life, shake its wings, and begin to fly.

<- Previous Chapter Next Chapter ->

______________

Author's Note:

We're getting into the action/plot now folks! Hold on tight because I have IDEAS! It's going to take time for me to explain it all in the story, but I promise you I have a plan

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#azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x mate reader #the inner circle #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfiction #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #the shadowsinger and the inkbird #the day court

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ssivinee · 2 months ago

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❥ 𝙰 𝙱𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝙰𝚋𝚘𝚞𝚝 𝚈𝚘𝚞

Le Sserafim! Kim Chaewon x F reader [Soulmate AU]: In a world where, by the age of 18, you and your soulmate are gifted a book that links you to each other. You disliked the thought of a book dictating who she’ll spend the rest of her life with. Meanwhile, after years of owning the book, Chaewon realized you didn’t care to write in the notebook, using it as her personal diary, ESPECIALLY when the idol industry was beginning to fuck her over.

Word Count: 5.9 k

Author's Note: ya'll idek what to say, writing this was just so much fun, but it does feel a bit rushed so pls have mercy on meeeeee👹👹. BUT ONTO THE NEXT RAHHHHHHHHH

➳ Character Concept - Na Y/n

You were at home, buried in a stack of paperwork your boss and coworkers had piled onto you. The nine-to-five life shouldn’t be this brutal, but the workload hit you hard again. Being the new hire came with a catch: everyone seemed to drop their tasks onto you, and you weren’t in the position to refuse.

As you leaned back and stretched, your eyes drifted away from the papers, landing on the tall bookcase in your workspace. You weren’t much of a reader and rarely touched any of the books lined up there.

Most were your sister’s, left behind each time she visited, and when she didn’t bother taking them back, you’d eventually set up the bookcase instead of reminding her. It turned out to be the perfect place for one book in particular—the one you always avoided.

The book was a beautiful thing, really. It had a hardcover in a muted tea green, soft and elegant, with details engraved in dark green, gray, and sage. Intricate floral patterns ran along the edges, almost like ivy climbing an ancient wall, making it the most mysterious-looking book among them all.

Your name was delicately written on the spine in white cursive. As you looked at it, you had to admit it was the kind of book that could draw anyone in—if it didn’t carry the purpose it did.

In this world, everyone was destined to have a soulmate. From birth, every person had one match waiting somewhere, and at eighteen, you received a book like this one—a "mirror book," as people called it. The book was always explained as “one book split into two,” and each soulmate would receive a half.

Whatever your soulmate wrote would appear in your book, and whatever you wrote would show in theirs. It was a way to communicate without knowing each other’s names, faces, or locations, a silent promise between two people meant to be together.

When you first received it, you thought it was a fascinating concept: a link to someone the world had chosen just for you. The book had arrived out of nowhere, in a plain box on your doorstep.

You’d been a little curious then, but as the years passed, you left it unopened, letting it collect dust on the shelf. It had lit up often enough—sometimes three or five times a month—meaning your soulmate had written something. But you never looked.

Right on cue, the book started glowing faintly, the light seeping out around the spine and pages, a warm, soft pulse calling for your attention. Before you could even consider reaching for it, though, your phone rang, breaking your gaze.

“Yes, boss?”

“...”

“I’ll have it done by morning.”

You hung up, rolling your eyes at the extra load. This was going to be a long night.

“Unnie, manager-nim asked for you!” The call echoed through the building, and Chaewon turned, catching the eager wave from the maknae, who gestured for her to hurry. Chaewon sighed, walking down the maze of hallways toward the conference room. Awards season was approaching, and she assumed this would be a meeting about the group’s recent success.

Inside the conference room, several higher-ups sat around a long table, each one wearing a mask that hid their faces and reactions. Their eyes shifted around, avoiding direct eye contact with her, which was never a good sign.

“Chaewon-ssi. Please, take a seat.” One of the men, scrawny and stern-looking, gestured toward the chair in front of them. She complied, sitting as they exchanged uneasy glances.

The man cleared his throat and spoke, “Your latest comeback did amazing. With everything the group has gone through in the past year, this is a positive step forward.” Chaewon nodded, grateful to hear some acknowledgment of their hard work. But she could see through the act he was putting on. Their body language said more than their words.

A woman seated near the end of the table, probably the senior among them, coughed and caught Chaewon’s eye. “This isn’t enough, though,” she began, her tone dripping with the authority they always tried to wield over the idols.

Chaewon adjusted herself in the seat, looking directly at the woman. “Not enough? Sales exceeded expectations, and the public response has been better than any release in recent months,” she replied. As leader, she knew their numbers inside out, and there was no way they could brush off the group’s success.

The woman only shook her head. “Still, it’s not enough. We need a broader reach and more engagement. We have high expectations for you all, you know?”

Chaewon’s jaw tightened, but she kept her tone measured. “So, what now?”

A man leaned forward, expression blank but voice patronizing. “You’ll be entering a public relationship with TXT’s Yeonjun. We’re aiming for a six-month duration.”

Chaewon’s stomach twisted. She and Yeonjun had always been friendly, but this? It wasn’t what she’d signed up for. She was aware of the shipping and that some people even liked their friendship, but she didn’t think it would cause her to be in this position.

She knew her job required sacrifices, but the pressure from HYBE had been pushing everyone in LE SSERAFIM to their limits lately. Scandals over the past months had put the entire company on edge, and the members felt it—a growing resentment they couldn’t afford to show.

One misstep and they could lose everything they’d worked for. So, they remained civil, swallowing their frustration to keep moving forward.

Chaewon forced herself to keep a neutral expression, nodding as if this decision was acceptable. But inside, frustration was simmering, her fists clenched under the table. As soon as the meeting ended, she left, biting back any words that might betray her true feelings.

Back in the privacy of her dorm, she took a shaky breath, pulling her soulmate book from a drawer on her nightstand. The cover was a deep tea green, with dark green, gray, and sage details, and her name was written in fine cursive.

The book had been her lifeline whenever she felt overwhelmed or needed an escape. She opened it to a blank page, the edges of earlier entries slightly frayed from countless hurried scribbles over the years.

Chaewon hadn’t heard from her soulmate, not once since receiving the book. At first, she’d wondered if they just weren’t interested, but over time, she’d pushed that thought aside. Her schedule left little room for those kinds of distractions anyway. The book slowly became more like a diary, a safe place where she could let out the thoughts and frustrations she didn’t share with anyone else.

With a sigh, she picked up a pen and began to write.

Today was another reminder of how little control I have while I’m in this industry. They’re forcing me into a relationship with Yeonjun. He’s a friend, and this feels so wrong. I wish things were different. Sometimes, it feels like my life isn’t even my own. I joined this world to entertain and make music, to perform. But now, everything is about to be carefully planned and scripted, right down to who I’m supposed to “love.” They say it’s for the group’s success, to keep the fans engaged in any way, but I’m being used. I’m literally just a pawn in this damn company. And Yeonjun… deserves better than this, too. This just isn’t fair to either of us. I can’t even talk to the members about it. This is something I have to deal with myself. The members are trying to fake it and avoid conflict with the higher-ups. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like if I could share all of this with my soulmate. If they’d understand. Or maybe they’d just tell me to hang in there, to keep going… But you’re silent, as always. Maybe that’s for the best. Maybe they’d just think I was selfish, complaining about things that most people only dream of. But sometimes I feel trapped, more than I ever expected.

She paused, staring at the ink as it dried on the page. The book remained silent as always, no answer appearing on the next page. She hadn’t let herself think too much about why her soulmate had never written back. Right now, it was almost better this way—just her and her thoughts.

As she closed the book, she felt a little lighter, the weight of the day lifting just enough. Even if her soulmate didn’t write back, having a place to confide gave her a sliver of peace.

It was your day off, and things were going smoothly despite the usual workload. Your sister, Haeun, was visiting with your two nephews, who were busy turning your home into their personal playground. Meanwhile, Haeun sat on your couch, deeply engrossed in her own mirror book. Of all the books she’d left at your place over the years, that one was never one of them.

She had already met her soulmate, Junseo, years ago, so it puzzled you as to why she still read it so often. “Why are you looking at me like that?” Haeun asked in her usual goofy tone when she caught your stare.

You kept typing on your laptop but glanced up. “Just wondering why you still read that book so much. You and Junseo met six years ago.”

Haeun gently shut the book, setting it on the coffee table. “Because I like reminiscing about when we used to write to each other.”

Her response made you raise an eyebrow. You’d never understood the interest in the concept of it. “I don’t get it,” you admitted bluntly. “How can anyone let that stupid book dictate who they spend their life with? Isn’t it kind of deranged? I mean, sure, the world picks your soulmate based on your preferences or whatever, but preferences change all the time. What’s so magical about it?”

Haeun smirked, clearly amused by your usual skepticism. “You’re so closed-minded about the mirror book,” she said with a shake of her head.

“You don’t have to choose your soulmate. You can end up with anyone you want. But the soulmate from your mirror book? That’s a unique connection. It’s not just about preferences—it’s about something deeper. Like…” She paused, searching for the right words. “It’s like the red string of fate.”

Her explanation caught you off guard. All your life, you’d thought the mirror book only matched people based on their likes and dislikes by your mother and father. Yet Haeun was making it sound like it was something much more deeper.

“When I met Junseo a month after my 18th birthday,” she continued, her voice soft with the memory, “it felt like a part of me I didn’t even know was missing suddenly clicked into place.”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying to dismiss the strange sensation her words stirred in you.

“When you meet your soulmate,” Haeun said, her eyes warm and knowing, “it’s not just love. It’s a kind of happiness you can’t find anywhere else.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, sure. Sounds like a fairy tale to me.”

Haeun groaned, clearly irritated. “Look, you don’t have to believe me right now. But there’s no harm in reading your book, you know?”

Her words lingered as the day went on. You spent time with your nephews, running errands, baking cookies, and even decorating a small cake for Haeun. These were the moments you loved—putting smiles on faces with little things. Yet, in the back of your mind, her suggestion gnawed at you.

That evening, after everyone had gone home, you found yourself sitting in your office, the tea-green book in your hands. Its presence felt heavier than it should, as if all the weight of the past seven years had settled in your lap.

You stared at the intricate cover, tracing the engraved details. The accents of dark green, sage, and gray caught the dim light, and your name on the spine gleamed in delicate white cursive. This book had followed you from place to place, always hidden—stuffed in boxes, shoved on high shelves, or buried in your bookcase.

Taking a deep breath, you opened it for the first time.

The pages were filled—hundreds of them, written over the course of seven years. The first few entries practically radiated excitement.

I can’t believe I got my book! I wonder what you’re like. Do you like music? Because I love it. I hope we have that in common.

The enthusiasm made you chuckle. Your soulmate seemed like a hopeless romantic, pouring her heart onto the pages. She mentioned being a trainee at Wollim Entertainment, and her youthful optimism was almost contagious.

But as you flipped through, the tone shifted. She grew demoralized, apologizing repeatedly for your silence, even wondering if she’d done something wrong. Then came a time jump—2018.

Wow, it’s been a while. I almost forgot this book existed. I don’t know if you’re reading it or if you’ve even opened it, but I think this book will be my diary from now on. Today, I finally debuted. It’s not under Wollim, but it’s a step. We’re going to be big. I just know it. The members are amazing, and we’ve already bonded so much over the course of a few months. I’ll always have their backs, no matter what happens.

You paused, curiosity piqued. She hadn’t debuted under Wollim?

Further entries painted a bittersweet picture. Two years later, there was another major update:

After a great two years, we finally disbanded. It was a bittersweet end to this chapter of my life. Our last concert was… emotional. Wonyoung and Yujinie wouldn’t stop crying. I don’t know what comes next for me. Back to training, I guess?

Tear stains dotted the page, their presence tugging at something in your chest. Her sadness felt strong, your heart feeling heavy at the sight of it, her uncertainty painful. You skimmed forward, finding more messages filled with longing for her old group and tentative hope for the future.

Finally, you reached the most recent entry, written just a week ago:

I don’t know how to feel. They’re making me go into a public relationship with Yeonjun. It’s for the group’s image, they say. I know it’s just business, but it feels wrong. I wish things were different.

The words sent a chill down your spine. Yeonjun? You didn’t keep up with K-pop much, but the name was vaguely familiar. You grabbed your phone and typed “K-pop Yeonjun” into the search bar. As the results loaded, one name stood out:

Kim Chaewon.

Your heart skipped a beat. Kim Chaewon? As in Chaewon from IZONE? Chaewon of LE SSERAFIM?*

Your fingers tightened around your shirt as your heartbeat quickened. Your soulmate is Kim Chaewon?

The thought left you reeling. She was a celebrity, and you? You were just an ordinary office worker. Insecurity crept in, making your stomach churn. What would she even think of you?

But maybe… maybe the first step was to stop overthinking and just write back. You reach for a pen, trying to piece together the first words you’d ever be telling her.

Hi. I don’t even know where to begin… I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not writing back all these years. I promise it wasn’t because I didn’t care. I just—I didn’t know how what to think of this, to be honest. The idea of a soulmate… seemed fake to me. I thought it was better to live my life without the pressure of this book defining who I should love or be with. But after reading everything you’ve written… I realize how unfair that was to you. You’ve poured so much of yourself into these pages, and I left you alone in it. For that, I’m deeply sorry. I also didn’t expect you to be… well, you. I figured from context your Kim Chaewon. You’re not just anyone. You’re someone the world knows. Someone who’s achieved so much, worked hard, and faced many challenges. You’ve gone through a lot, and I can’t imagine how lonely it must’ve been to write in here, not knowing if I’d ever read it or respond. I’m also so, so sorry about what you’re going through with this “relationship” situation. You don’t deserve that. I don’t know what to say other than it’s unfair, and I wish there was something I could do to make it better. I’m not sure if this is enough to make up for all the silence, but I’m here now. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. I promise.

Chaewon was sprawled on her bed, the dorm oddly quiet for the first time in a while. Most of the members were out at the company for various schedules, but Chaewon had managed to secure a few hours to herself.

She had been trying to relax, scrolling aimlessly through her phone, but her thoughts were heavy, weighed down by the fake relationship looming over her.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, her mirror book began to glow.

She froze, her phone slipping from her fingers onto the blanket. The soft, ethereal light from the book seemed almost unreal, and her heart leapt to her throat.

It had never glowed before. Not once.

Her hands trembled as she reached for it, hesitant. The idea of opening the book and finding nothing—a cruel glitch in the universe’s matchmaking—was terrifying. But what if there was something?

Taking a deep breath, Chaewon flipped open the book to the latest page. Her eyes scanned the handwriting, unfamiliar yet strangely comforting. With each word she read, her chest grew lighter.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, emotions crashing into her all at once. Relief. Sadness. Hope.

Your apology softened the ache she’d carried for years. The acknowledgment of her struggles, of her loneliness, made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t expected. But more than anything, she was just grateful. She was grateful that her soulmate had finally reached out, even if it was just this once.

She let out a shaky breath, wiping at her eyes before they could spill over. Grabbing a pen, she carefully began to write her response, her hand steady despite the storm of emotions she currently felt.

Hi! Thank you for writing to me. You didn’t have to, but I’m so glad you did. I won’t lie. There were times I thought you might never write back, and I convinced myself that was okay. But seeing your words today… it means more than I can put into words. You don’t need to apologize. I get it. This whole soulmate thing is overwhelming. Honestly, it scared me, too, when I first got my book. I kept thinking, “What if they don’t like me? What if I’m not enough?” But you are enough. You’re more than enough. Don’t ever feel like you’re not because of who I am or what I do. I’m just a person. I get scared and confused, too. I want to know more about you. Who you are, what you like, what makes you happy. Anything you want to tell me, I want to know. And if you’d rather take things slow, that’s okay, too. No pressure. Just… thank you for responding. Even if it’s only this once, it means the world to me.

Chaewon closed the book, her smile wide and genuine. It had been years, but finally, you made yourself known to her. The weight of uncertainty, the questions she had carried for so long—they didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

Without hesitation, she grabbed her phone and opened the group chat with her members.

Chae GUYS. MY MIRROR BOOK GLOWED.

The chat quickly exploded with notifications.

Zuha WOAHHH No way?? Are you serious?! 😲

Smiley Potato Well finally!!!!! What did they say???

Kkura unnie finally?? after all this time? what did you write back?? 🫣

Jennifer HOLD UP …what if it’s a scam? 🤔 soulmate catfishing could totally be a thing.

Chaewon rolled her eyes, laughing softly as she typed her response.

Chae i don’t think it’s fake! they wrote about stuff that only someone who read a lot of the book would know like the PR thing with Yeonjun 👹 they even apologized for not writing all these years

The chat went silent for a few moments, as if the group collectively held their breath.

Smiley Potato okay, but like are you sure they’re genuine?

Chaewon i am it didn’t feel fake it felt… real like they’ve been holding back for a long time but wanted to make things right 🙂‍↕️

Zuha awwwwww that’s so sweet 🥹

Kkura unnie well, don’t scare them off just take it slow

Chaewon nodded to herself, grateful for their support, even if some of them were skeptical. For the first time in a long while, her excitement replacing the weight of her worries.

The next morning, you sat at your desk, the tea-green book lying closed in front of you. Your gaze lingered on it, anticipation bubbling in your chest. When you finally opened it, the latest entry made you smile.

Chaewon had accepted your apology. She hadn’t held onto any anger or resentment. Instead, her words were warm, curious, and welcoming. It felt nice on your conscience knowing she didn’t hate you.

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the blank page in front of you. Your mind raced with what to write. It was weird, wasn’t it? Sharing your life with someone you didn’t even know? Still, she’d written so much about herself over the years. The least you could do was give her the same.

Picking up your pen, you began to write.

Hi again. I wasn’t sure if I’d write back so soon, but your reply made me smile. Thank you for not hating me after all this time. I guess I should tell you a little about myself? But, to be honest, I think you might find me pretty boring. I work a dumb office job that keeps me way too busy, but it pays the bills, so I can’t complain too much. My real passion, though, is baking. I love making cakes, cookies, pastries—you name it. I dream of opening my own little bakery one day, but, well, starting a business here isn’t exactly easy. My parents live in Jeollanam-do, in a small village near Boseong. You’d love it there—the green tea fields stretch on forever. I visit when I can, but it’s tough to find time with work and everything. My sister, Haeun, lives closer to me. She’s married and has two kids who are absolute terrors but in the cutest way possible. They keep me on my toes whenever they visit. Oh, and my favorite color is green, probably because of where I grew up. It reminds me of home, of peace, of the simpler times before life got so… complicated. Anyway, that’s me. Just an ordinary person in a very ordinary life.

You paused, biting your lip as you reread what you wrote. Did it sound too plain? Too uninteresting? Shaking off the self-doubt, you finished your entry.

I hope this isn’t too boring for you to read. I’m sure your life is much more exciting. But I’d love to hear more about you, too. If you don’t mind, that is.

Setting the pen down, you closed the book, feeling both nervous and hopeful. You weren’t sure what would come next, but for now, it felt good to share a piece of yourself with her.

The next day, Chaewon’s schedule was packed with photoshoots and rehearsals, but her mirror book sat discreetly in her bag. During a break, she pulled it out, the soft green glow catching her attention. She flipped it open, her lips curling into a smile as she read your latest entry. Your awkwardness, your humility—it was endearing in a way she hadn’t expected.

She laughed softly, shaking her head. “So ordinary, huh?” she muttered to herself, the amusement lingering in her expression. Her heart felt lighter, and for the first time in days, she didn’t feel so weighed down by everything else.

As the crew shuffled around, prepping for the next shot, she quickly grabbed a pen and began to write back.

I don’t know why you think your life is boring. Reading your words makes me feel like I’m learning about a whole new world. Honestly, your passion for baking? It's amazing. I can’t even crack an egg without causing a disaster, so I’m already impressed. Life on my end… it’s exciting, but not always in good ways, like this whole PR relationship thing. It feels like I’m constantly trying to prove something to the world, even when it doesn’t feel like me. Training life was hard, but this industry is even harder sometimes. There’s always something—rumors, hate, expectations. And now, with this, I can already feel the negativity piling on, even though I’ve been avoiding social media the past few days. My members, though, have been helping me get through it. Well, mostly. They’re a little skeptical about you, but I can’t blame them for being cautious. But you feel real to me. Your letters, your thoughts— calculated. They’re just you. And you’re cute, by the way. The way you write, stumbling over your own words like you’re nervous about sounding silly? It’s adorable. I hope you know that. I really hope we can meet one day. I don’t know when or how, but the idea of finally seeing you face-to-face makes me… excited. Nervous but excited.

Chaewon closed the book just as the photographer called her name. She tucked it away, a soft smile still on her face as she returned to the set.

What she didn’t realize was that fate was already weaving its threads, and it was only a matter of time before your paths crossed for real.

It was a random day when, Haeun, insisted on introducing you to a friend of hers over lunch. You hadn’t thought much of it at first—Haeun was always the social butterfly of the family, her circle of connections ranging from neighbors to industry professionals.

The three of you met at a cozy restaurant downtown. Haeun’s friend, Sojung, was sharp, poised, and had an air of effortless confidence about her. As the conversation flowed, you shared polite smiles and nods while your sister took the lead. But when the topic shifted to your baking, Sojung’s interest piqued.

“Haeun tells me you’re amazing at baking,” Sojung said, her tone warm and encouraging.

You waved it off, feeling a little self-conscious. “It’s just something I’ve always enjoyed. Nothing big.”

Haeun, of course, wasn’t having it. “Nothing big? Please. Y/n’s been dreaming about opening her own bakery for years. She’s just never gone out of her way to try and do it.”

Sojung leaned forward slightly, her eyes lighting up. “Actually, I’ve been looking for a new business venture. I’d love to help you make this dream happen.”

The words caught you off guard. You blinked at her, unsure if you’d misheard. “You’d… help me? Really?”

“Of course,” she replied, smiling. “I’ve got the resources, and if you’ve got the talent and the vision, we could make something incredible together.”

So the two weeks that followed were a whirlwind. Your mornings still began with your mundane office job, but your evenings and weekends became consumed with planning. Together with Sojung, you toured potential locations, sketched ideas for the bakery’s design, and worked on everything from color schemes to menu concepts.

It was exciting, yes, but also exhausting. Balancing your office work that your boss, Younghyun, gave with the demands of setting up the bakery left you with little time for anything else. Even writing to Chaewon, which had quickly become a bright spot in your life, had to be put on hold.

But when the bakery finally opened, it felt surreal. The storefront was everything you’d imagined—soft pastels, elegant displays, and the warm aroma of freshly baked goods greeting every customer who walked through the door. But in the chaos of launching your dream, you realized you hadn’t told Chaewon the name of the store.

That night, once the rush of the grand opening had died down, you finally sat down with your mirror book. Opening it, you felt a pang of guilt as you saw Chaewon’s last message still unanswered. Picking up your pen, you began to write.

Chaewon, I’m so sorry for not writing back sooner. These past two weeks have been insane. My sister introduced me to a friend who offered to help me open my own bakery. It’s been a dream of mine for so long, but I didn’t think it would ever happen. Now it’s real, and I’ve been so busy trying to balance my job and getting everything ready that I haven’t had a moment to breathe. We finally opened today. It’s small but cozy, and I love it. I wish I could tell you where it is, but honestly, I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact that it even exists. Maybe one day, if we meet, I can show you in person? I hope you’re doing okay. I know I’ve been terrible at keeping up, but I’ve thought about your letters a lot. Even in the chaos, they’ve stuck with me. I’ll try not to disappear again, I promise.

With a deep breath, you closed the book, hoping Chaewon would understand. What you didn’t know was that your words would soon light up her mirror book, bringing a smile to her face during her own chaotic days.

The message from Chaewon came later that night, her handwriting as neat and lovely as ever.

Hey, Don’t apologize, really. I’m just glad you’re chasing your dreams. It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, but I’m happy to know life’s heading in the right direction for you. Your bakery sounds so cozy, and I can already picture how it must look. I hope it becomes everything you want it to be. If we ever get the chance to meet, I’d love to visit. Don’t stress too much about writing back. Life gets busy, and I understand that. Just know that I’m always here, and I’m cheering you on from afar.

Reading her reply, you couldn’t help but smile. The warmth in her words, the genuine support—it was unlike anything you’d felt before.

In the days that followed, you did your best to keep up with her letters despite your increasingly hectic schedule. Your office job, under the relentless supervision of Younghyun, had become more demanding than ever. He piled project after project on your desk, and there were days you barely had time to think.

When you weren’t drowning in work at the office, you were juggling the new bakery, My Sweet Home. It was bustling with customers from the moment the doors opened. With only two employees to help you run the place, every day was stressful but you loved everything about it.

Even with everything going on, you brought your mirror book everywhere. During rare quiet moments, you would pull it out to read Chaewon’s latest messages, finding comfort in her words. Her letters became a kind reminder that someone out there cared about the small victories and struggles you were facing.

The following week, Yunjin heard about the opening of a bakery in Seoul that had been trending locally. Intrigued by the buzz, she convinced Kazuha and Chaewon to join her for a visit.

“It’ll be fun!” Yunjin chirped as they left their dorm. “And we can go incognito. Hats, masks—the whole deal. No one will know it’s us.”

Chaewon hesitated but agreed, curious about the bakery herself. The trio arrived at My Sweet Home to find the place packed with customers. The air was filled with the sweet aroma of fresh pastries and cakes, and every table was full.

“Wow, this place is popular,” Kazuha said, her voice muffled under her mask.

Yunjin nodded approvingly. “Told you it was worth the trip. Let’s grab a seat while we wait.”

Chaewon followed them inside, her gaze sweeping over the cozy décor. There was a warmth to the space that immediately made her feel at ease.

In the back, you were pulling trays of cupcakes out of the oven, each one perfectly golden and ready to be decorated. You had no idea that three idols were sitting in your café, let alone Chaewon herself. With a practiced hand, you quickly piped frosting onto the, now, cooled cupcakes, adding a sprinkle of edible glitter before carrying the tray out front.

As you stepped into the bustling café, your eyes scanned the crowd—and then froze.

There she was. Even with the mask and hat, you recognized her immediately. Her eyes locked with yours, and at that exact moment, your mirror book, tucked in the office area, began to glow faintly.

You saw the recognition in her gaze too, the moment she realized who you were.

Chaewon’s breath caught as she took in the sight of you. Despite the flour dusting your apron and your slightly messy hair, she thought you were beautiful, your eyes like a small puppy and your lips opened due to the shock.

You hesitated for a second before signaling toward the back with a nervous gesture, hoping she’d understand. To your surprise, Chaewon nodded and quietly slipped away from the table, leaving Yunjin and Kazuha to distract themselves with the menu who never noticed her disappearance.

In the small back room of the bakery, you paced nervously until Chaewon appeared. She closed the door softly behind her, pulling down her mask and revealing a warm, slightly nervous smile.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the reality of meeting for the first time sinking in.

Then, without warning, Chaewon stepped forward and wrapped her arms around you. Her embrace was gentle yet firm, and the faint scent of lavender surrounded you, soothing your nerves.

“Hi,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the emotions you both were feeling.

“Hi,” you whispered back, still processing the fact that she was here, that she was real.

“Uhm… I don’t even know what to say,” you tell here as the two of you came apart and she chuckles. “Well, I don’t think either of us were actually expecting this.”

"How bout' you start off with your name?"

You shake your head in a frenzy, "R-right. I'm Na Y/n. Nice to meet you, Miss Kim Chaewon." You reach out your hand for a handshake, but she gives you another hug, this one feeling more softer than the last. Welp, at least you now knew she was a hugger.

She then began to think, “So~ My Sweet Home is yours?”

You nodded shyly as she looks around, making herself comfortable quickly. Chaewon’s eyes then fall onto some papers and a four trays of mint green cookies beside them. She points then looks at you, “Those are?”

“Oh, matcha cookies and mint chocolate chip cookies,” you tell her, showing her the paper of the recipe you formulated a week back. As if Chaewon’s eyes sparkled, she yelps in excitement. “I love mint chocolate chip! …Is it okay if I try one?” You giggled, finding her cute, and nod. The cookies were still warm as she took a bite.

As she tasted its flavor, she made cute noises and did a little dance, shimmying her body back and forth, with her cheeks puffed up full of sweets. You just couldn’t help but giggled at her antics, she was too cute for your heart to handle.

“Yeah, having a soulmate definitely isnt so bad,” you blurted out. You didn’t mean to admit that out loud, but you did mean it. Chaewon looks at you, her curious eyes looking playful as well. “Really?” She asked in a tiny voice, struggling to speak with her mouth still full.

You nod with a smile of your face, “Really.”

#❅ ssivinee's fic #kim chaewon #le sserafim #wlw #gxg #kpop gg #kpop gg x reader #kpop x female reader #kim chaewon x f reader #lesserafim x reader #lesserafim chaewon #lesserafim kim chaweon #lesserafim kim chaweon x f reader #lesserafim #les

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librarygarten · 6 months ago

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#1 Chain x Isekai! Reader - You Play Their Games

Part 1 includes Hyrule, Wind, and Time Part 1 (you are here) ✿ Part 2 ✿ Part 3

When you first met the chain, it had quickly come to everyone’s attention that you already knew them. At first, they thought perhaps you had somehow heard tales of them, passed down through the generations. But you knew things about their adventures they hadn’t told anyone. You knew the names of people and places that surely wouldn’t have survived the thousands of years the stories would have taken to reach you.

You tried your best to explain to them how you knew what you did. Thankfully, you had your Switch, which made explaining what a video game was to them a bit easier.

Hyrule

He wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, it was upsetting. His adventures were being used to entertain people? His Hyrule was a nightmare to live in, with monsters everywhere. When he had defeated Ganon, it had been a huge deal. To find out it was a game for children was a bit insulting if he was being honest.

On the other hand, his… “games” seemed to be your favorite? You had explained to him that his adventures were the first games ever created, and without them, the rest of the franchise wouldn’t exist. He couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride in this fact. He had grown up hearing of the Hero of Legend, and even now, traveling with the group, with Legend, it was impossible not to feel like he had to live up to that legacy. But to hear that without him, the others wouldn’t exist? (At least in your universe their stories would never have been created.) It was like the roles had been reversed. The Hero of Legend. The Hero of Time. All of them had to live up to the legacy that was… Hyrule.

He felt a bit guilty. A bit fascinated. A bit resentful. A bit proud. He wasn’t sure what to think. He decided to watch you play his game. Just for a bit, he told himself. Just to see what had started it all.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“Okay, so, I normally use a guide to help me find the dungeons,” you explained to Hyrule as you booted up a new save file. He was sitting next to you, watching the screen intently. “I’m not sure how far I’ll get without the internet, especially when I have to get through the maze later on.”

Hyrule had no idea what you were talking about. He decided to ignore whatever you just said and instead focus on the game in your hands.

“Is that supposed to be me?” he pointed at the screen, to the mass of pixels in the center vaguely resembling a person wearing a green dress and hat.

“Yeah, sorry. Your games’ graphics aren’t great,” you moved the joystick, making the game Link walk around in a circle. “But that’s just because they’re older. I think my dad was a teenager when this was made.”

There was a moment of silence before you spoke again.

“I miss him.”

Hyrule nodded in understanding. It couldn’t be easy, traveling with the group in a world so unlike your own. How were they going to get you home? Before he could try to comfort you, you turned your attention back to the game, moving the character into a small doorway as you talked.

“He’s the one that first got me into the games. He and I used to play this game on the old NES he had. We even tried to make a map of the different screens so that we would stop getting lost.”

Hyrule closed his eyes, leaning his head against your shoulder as you continued to ramble on about the game. It didn’t sit right with him that his adventure was reduced to entertainment. But you seemed so happy. Surely, it couldn’t be that bad.

Wind

(Pretend his games are on the Switch lol)

He's the least bothered by this. Like, sure, it's a bit weird that his adventures are games, but it's also so cool! It's like you went on his adventure, too! Even though you’ve never met his friends in real life, you seem to show such genuine care about them when playing his game.

He WILL demand to see every Legend of Zelda game you have, not just his own. It lets him experience the rest of the chain's adventures, which he really enjoys. (He likes watching you play Ocarina of Time the most. You have a hunch it has something to do with Wind growing up hearing stories about Time, then being expected to carry on that legacy. Or maybe he just likes to watch you fail at the Water Temple).

Despite his fascination with the others’ games, Wind is also REALLY proud that you like his the most. He had fun on his adventures with Tetra, and he’s glad he gets to share that with you. He’s also glad he can shove it in the others faces that he’s the favorite.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

You giggled as the cutscene played on the screen. Wind, who was sitting next to you, gave you an inquisitive look. He was watching the cutscene too, and didn’t see what was so funny. Upon seeing his face, you laughed even more.

“Sorry, sorry,” you apologized through giggles, “your facial expressions get me every time.” You gestured to the screen. The game Wind had been placed in a barrel, about to be launched from the pirate boat. His expression changed from wide-eyed terror to a determined glare. “It looks like you went through the five stages of grief in three seconds.”

“I HAD TO ADAPT TO SURVIVE.” Wind puffed out his chest. If he wasn’t a twig-thin pre-teen, it may have made him look manlier.

“I’m sure being yeeted off a boat in a barrel was quite the ordeal. Still doesn’t make your faces any less amusing.” You smiled, playfully poking his cheek. He stuck out his tongue at you.

“I’m sure it’s just the art style of the game.” He rolled his eyes. Surely, his facial expressions couldn’t be that amusing. “Tetra doesn’t look that funny in real life. Neither does Aryll. Everyone on your ‘Switch’ has weird little feet that don’t go with the rest of their body. I wouldn’t trust it to copy my face.”

“Ah, my mistake,” you ruffled his hair. “Surely, no screen can properly capture this adorable visage.”

“HEy!”

“But no, seriously.” you smiled and turned your attention back to the screen, “your funny faces used to crack me up all the time as a kid! Me and my brother tried to copy them, but we could never get them quite right.”

“So, am I your brother’s favorite Link, too?” Wind smirked.

“Hey! I never said you were my favorite. I said your games were my favorite!” You playfully hit his shoulder. “I can’t just choose my favorite of you guys! That wouldn’t be fair.”

“Oh!” Wind cried out and grabbed his chest, “My pride!” He fell over dramatically, as if dying from the grievous injury to his ego. You laughed at the display.

“See, this is what I mean. I don't get this kind of entertainment from the others! Legend’s too grouchy and the captain's worried about messing up his hair.” Wind bolted upright at your comment. Cupping his hands over his mouth in a makeshift megaphone, he yelled across the campsite.

“HEAR THAT LEGEND? Y/N LIKES ME BETTER THAN YOU!”

“SHUT UP! I STILL HAVE MORE GAMES THAN YOU!”

Time

Time is silent the entire time you explain his games. Only two of his adventures seem to have made it to your world. He’s not sure if he should be horrified that his time in Termina is the last story you had of him, or grateful you didn’t see the aftermath of that adventure. (You don’t seem to know much about the Fierce Deity mask besides it “makes boss fights easier”.)

It takes him a while to trust you. He isn't sure how you view the chain now, and he can't risk you thinking they're still a game. There are real stakes. He tries to put you in the back of the group or somewhere you can't possibly mess anything up. Once you prove to him that you genuinely care about the group, though, he relaxes quite a bit. (That's a story for another time tho).

He doesn’t get too worked up over the fact you viewed his adventures as games. He can see how much you care for the chain when interacting with them, so it’s not like you still view them as playthings. From talking to his successors, he’s also grown used to being reduced to a story. He knows that fighting Ganondorf was terrifying, especially considering he was so young when he had to do it. However, to Wind, Twilight, and the others that came after? He was the Hero of Time. The Possessor of the Triforce of Courage. A legendary hero. Not a scared kid.

He watches you play occasionally, usually just a quick glance at the screen when he walks past wherever you were sitting. Wind seemed particularly interested in your device, so you had been showing him almost every game you had. Time mostly seems detached from the events depicted. Maybe it’s how long has passed between his childhood time traveling shenanigans and his present. More likely, he had simply lived through those adventures so many times himself that he couldn’t bring himself to get worked up about watching them again. You couldn’t quite tell.

✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧

“Ugh! I hate this stupid dungeon!” you groaned, pressing your face closer to the screen of your Switch. Wind was sprawled out next to you, head resting in your lap as he napped. Clearly, you had been at this for a while. Your frustration had also grabbed Time’s attention, and he made his way over to you.

“Is that the Water Temple?” he asked, sitting down on the other side of you. “I remember that place being a bit tedious to get through.”

“Yeah. I’ve been here for almost an hour. I can never get these platforms in the right order.” You furrowed your eyebrows, trying yet again to complete the stupid puzzle. Time watched you move his teen self around the level, pushing down his discomfort. He was slightly amused at how frustrated you were getting. (He’s still a little brat at heart.)

Finally, he decided to be helpful.

“Here,” he held out his hand, and you gave him the Switch. “It’s really obvious once you see the solution.” Time moved the joysticks gently, guiding his game counterpart around the level. He moved the platforms, solving the puzzle in only a few seconds.

“Oh come on!” You stuck out your tongue at the game, and Time couldn’t help but chuckle. He handed the game back to you, and you continued to play, passing through the last few levels before the final boss fight. Time continued to watch, occasionally offering commentary on the puzzles, although it was more to make fun of you than to help you.

Honestly, both of you lost track of time, and before you realized, the final battle was over. Ganondorf was defeated. As the credits rolled, Time was unusually quiet, and for a moment you thought he had fallen asleep. You glanced over, only to find his eyes glued to the screen.

“May I?” He whispered, holding out both of his hands. You placed the Switch in his hands, and he gingerly held the device as the final cutscene played. On the screen, Navi flew up and away. Time turned the device over and placed it on the ground when the words “Presented by Nintendo” appeared.

“Time, I’m sorry,” you began, gingerly touching his shoulder. He looked lost in thought.

“Don’t be. I think I needed to see that.” He smiled sadly. “I didn’t really understand it back then. I thought she had just flown away. I didn’t really get to… mourn.”

You wrapped your arms around him, and Time gently accepted the hug. Once he was sure you weren’t going anywhere, Link tightened his arms around you.

#why did this get to sad???#linked universe #linked universe x reader #linked universe + reader #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu time #lu x isekai!reader #linked universe x isekai!reader #lu wind #lu hyrule x reader #Hyrule x reader #lu time x reader #Time x reader #lu wind + reader #Wind + reader

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months ago

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I See Red

Pairing: Black Noir x Black!Fem!reader/plus size reader

Warnings: 18+ only. MINORS DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Primal dom Black Noir, Dark elements. Cursing, PIV, SMUT, fingering (fem receiving), bratty reader. Black Noir and reader is aroused by hunting/being hunted. Sorry if I missed others. No spoilers for Season 4.

Summary: You filled in for your friend, working as a server during a party featuring Vought leadership and Supes. All night, you've been playing with Black Noir. Who's hunting who when you lure him out into the garden maze?

AO3 Link

Word count: 2,664k

A/N: WHEW, sometimes when the feral hounds get to howling, I must answer that call. My fam was in rare form tonight so I'll take it as my sign to chill out lol. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, reblog, or unhinged ask.

Taglist: @chaos-4baby @00aijia00 @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @twocentuar @umber-cinders @planetblaque

God, your feet hurt. You had been working the party all night, working hard to keep Supe’s drowning in liquor and drugs and the Vought leadership blissfully in lust chasing after them. This was your last fucking party. Your friend could keep this gig. You didn’t need money that badly.

You’ll miss exploring rich mansions, though. This was the closest you’d ever get to knowing how the other half lived. They took all of this acreage for granted. It was an everyday sight to them. They looked at the lush gardens and intricate pathways and saw the money they hemorrhaged trying to keep it afloat. To impress other rich pricks who had too much money and time on their hands. You’d love to have their problems.

You snagged a glass of champagne from the kitchen, intending to take your break out in the gardens in the back of the mansion. The lighting was softer out here, muted in such a way to give it a hazy, dreamlike look.

The gardens out here boasted rich purples, bright pinks, and summery oranges. There were still some people out here, giggling and glasses clinking somewhere in the distance. The air was chilly, near frigid, but felt amazing on your overheated skin.

The soft, shimmery cherry red dress you wore tickled your thick thighs as you took off your heels and padded down the stone steps towards the maze. You discarded your empty glass on the pillar at the bottom of the steps. The maze had instantly grabbed your attention as you received the “don’t fuck up” talk from the manager, Elliot. He was an ass, thought himself more important than God, but all you did was tune him out as you looked towards the maze.

You took the last step and then hopped quickly onto the grassy knoll, the ground too cold for your aching feet. You sighed as your toes squished in the grass, a light mist making your feet wet. But that was okay. The dew added to the atmosphere and if you closed your eyes, you’d swear that you stepped into another world.

The maze loomed above you, hedges taller than ten feet. Perhaps bigger. You looked behind you to check for anyone nearby. Your eyes snagged on Black Noir standing outside the doors you just exited.

Your heart skipped a beat, drinking him in. He was so mysterious. But with an obvious, dangerous swagger like he could snap your neck in half and then carry about his day like it didn’t faze him. All night, you felt like he was watching you. All night, you dodged from room to room just to see what he’d do.

He’d stalk from room to room right after you. Sometimes you let him catch you. He’d sidle up next to you and tilt his head, never saying anything. It was his whole thing. But you wondered what his voice sounded like. Or what he looked like. He could be horrendous underneath the stretch of black across his face.

No one with that much presence could be ugly right? You blamed your mask kink as you waited for Black Noir to zero in on you before taking off into the maze. You turned and turned, scurrying down pathways whether they lead somewhere or not. You weren’t sure how big the maze was, but that made it more exciting.

Clouds of breath escaped you as your imagination took off. You knew Black Noir was behind you somewhere. When would he catch you? What would you let him do if he did?

You ducked down a few more pathways, nothing but the stars and moon to guide you overhead. This was nuts. This was one of the wildest things you’d ever done. But when would you ever get the chance to do this? Since this was the last party you covered for your friend, you intended to go out with a bang.

You giggled to yourself at your wild thoughts before covering your mouth with your hand. This was a supe you were up against. You weren’t quite sure about his powers and that only added to the thrill.

Did your red dress give you away? A twig snapped behind you and you whirled around, expecting to see Black Noir. There was nothing. Nothing but hedges surrounding you. The light hoot of an owl. A breeze ruffled your flyaway hairs, a sheen of sweat settling between your breasts and on the back of your legs.

A rustling noise made you duck down a nearby pathway, spurned to fleeing at the prospect of being hunted by Black Noir. He was usually quiet as a church mouse. Were these sounds due to natural critters in the maze? Or was Black Noir playing with you?

Your thighs tingled and your pussy throbbed. You thought you took enough turns, you were completely lost. You weren’t sure how he could find you in this. You controlled your breathing, stepped quietly, and you kept your eyes pricked for any sign of movement.

You turned down one final path that led to the middle of the maze. Set in a wide square, the middle had a few benches and a fountain. There was a statue in the middle of the fountain, a young naked maiden pouring water from a giant pot in her hands. Her hair flowed down the middle of her back, inlaid with stone flowers.

Shit like this was wasted on the rich. You could spend eternity here just cataloging all of the details on the statue. Was it Greek inspired? You stepped closer, momentarily forgetting that you were trying to entice Black Noir.

Remembering that, you inched closer to the entrance. You looked both ways and then turned to the fountain. The water trickled and the breeze turned biting.

You sighed. Maybe he wasn’t interested. Maybe he was tired of the chase. Maybe you played hard to get for one minute too long and Black Noir found someone more willing. You pouted and gave one final look at the fountain.

The cool smell of leather wafted to your nose as a gloved hand clamped down over your mouth. You tried screaming, but it was muffled by his hand. You struggled, fighting, clawing to get free but the solid mountain behind you was unforgiving.

You looked up and back, into the visor of Black Noir. You still struggled, more excited than scared this time. Black Noir wrapped a large arm around your middle and yanked you from the ground. Your feet kicked, trying to connect with his legs but he was an expert. He held you far enough away where you couldn’t touch him.

Black Noir suddenly let you go. You dropped to your feet with a huff before turning around and backing away from him. Black Noir tilted his head and stalked forward.

“Found me,” you said and smiled, holding up a hand to ward him off.

Black Noir nodded.

“I was hoping you would,” you said. You felt silly, like you were talking to yourself. But Black Noir tilted his head again, like he was questioning your statement. You bit your lip, not answering him.

You really wanted to hear his voice. But then again, half the fun would be gone. Once you knew who was underneath, it’d ruin the mystery and the intrigue. You backed away all the way to the fountain. The edge of the fountain hit the back of your thighs and you stopped. No more room.

Not unless you wanted to try running around him. You looked past him and Black Noir stepped into your line of sight. You giggled. “Not gonna let me get away again?” You asked.

Black Noir shook his head.

“How will you get me to stay?” You asked.

Black Noir cracked his neck, rolling it, before stepping to the side in a wide stance, somehow making himself look bigger. More intimidating. Your heartbeat was loud in your ears, thumping harshly in your veins.

You feinted to the left and Black Noir jerked to the side. You giggled, doing the same thing on your right and Black Noir cut off your escape. You grinned as you pretended to run to the right, turning at the last minute, and dodging Noir’s outstretched hands. You did it! You were free!

That feeling was short-lived as Noir scooped you up by your middle, lifting you and walking backwards until you were right back where you started. He dropped you at the edge of the fountain, grabbing a fistful of hair and yanked you back.

The moan escaped you way too fast. You wanted to be coy. Wanted to drag this out and be a smoking hot target. Instead, you were just too damn needy.

Noir put his face close to yours. Not a word. He nudged your exposed neck with his nose while his free hand ghosted across your chest. You stuck your boobs out, wanting him to do more than this.

He ignored you, moving his hand to grab a handful of your tummy and squeeze. You moaned again, rubbing your backside against his front.

Noir moved his hand to lift up your dress, cupping your mound and squeezing. “Fuck!” You moaned out. No mercy. He squeezed to the point of pain, savoring your cries, before rubbing your pussy over your panties.

“More, more, please,” you cried out.

Noir pushed your panties down your legs, only giving you enough slack on your hair to let you kick them off. Your skin was on fire. Blood boiling. Pussy throbbing.

Noir pushed you forward and the palms of your hands stung from the rough stone of the fountain. Your breaths came out in shuddering waves as you were bent over the railing. Noir kept his hold on your hair while you heard his zipper ripping through the night air.

Noir breathed harshly. A sound! It should not thrill you this much to get a hint of a sound out of him, but fuck. This was going to fuel your fantasies for months. Possibly even years.

Noir gasped as he removed his glove. You couldn’t see his hand. It was too dark. But you did feel as he moved his fingers through your dripping folds. You moaned, legs giving out. Noir pulled your hair until you stood up straighter and you cried out.

He wasn’t pulling hard enough to do any real damage. Just a little sting. Just enough force to show you that he was in control.

Noir continued to play with your pussy, rubbing his fingers around your clit and inside your entrance. You leaked all over him, creating a neat little river that began to leak down your legs.

Noir pulled your hair. “Oh god, feels so good. So good. So damn good,” you chattered, not sure what you were saying and not truly giving a fuck. This was the most fun you’d ever had during sex. You wished that you could freeze this moment. Or expand it, stretch time as long as you need to in order to experience this for as long as possible.

You were racing towards an orgasm in no time, screaming into the night like a wild banshee. Who cared who was around at the moment? They were all getting their rocks off, it was only fitting that you did as well.

Noir continued to finger you, continued pumping his long, thick fingers inside and drawing out another orgasm.

“Please, please,” you whimpered, not sure what you were begging for. Each orgasm was too quick, too short. Not enough, not nearly enough. You rubbed onto Noir like a purring cat, rubbed your ass against his armor clad groin.

Another harsh gasp from him. He pushed you forward until you were fully bent over the fountain. He grabbed your hip and pulled you against him. He worked his pants down low enough, slapping a big dick against your wet pussy.

The wet slapping sounds were loud. You had so much slick dripping out of you. He rubbed his dick back and forth, getting the tip wet with your juices. “Fuck me, fuck me,” you begged. Enough with the teasing. You felt ready to jump out of your skin. You were needy. And feral.

Noir’s hold on your hair tightened as he slapped your ass hard enough to make you hiss with pain. You shook with raw need, pussy clenching around open air. He smacked you again for good measure and you moaned, sticking your ass out.

“I’m sorry, I’ll behave,” you whimpered.

Noir continued with coating his dick in your juices before finally breaching your entrance. He stopped short of entering you fully, waiting. For what you weren’t sure. You pushed against him with a deep groan, pushed your ass backwards in an attempt to slip him inside.

It wasn’t until you stopped, until you grew still enough, that Noir slammed inside in one savage thrust. “Oh god!” You screamed, legs shaking on his dick. He was so big, a delicious stretch spearing you.

He drew back until just the tip was inside and then slammed back in. He continued this savage push and pull, driving you insane. You couldn’t pay attention to the rhythm he tried to set. It only felt like not enough.

You tried to slam him back faster, trying to get that lethal recoil going. Noir stopped and yanked your head back far enough to earn him a cry. You bit your lip and looked at him with a sweet smile.

“Okay, okay, I’ll behave,” you said.

Noir hovered over your back, using his size to cage you in. He nudged your neck with his nose, shuddering breaths quiet in your ear. You moaned as he slid back in, increasing his strokes, hitting a spot deep inside.

“Don’t stop! Don’t stop! That’s my spot! Right there!” You moaned and cried. He hit a spot so deep you started to see stars.

Noir obliged you, hitting that spot over and over until you were an incoherent mess, dribbling, and mumbling as a powerful orgasm ripped through you. The edges of your vision turned blurry, as you surrendered to the ecstasy.

As you came down, Noir’s hold didn’t lessen as he snapped his hips against yours. Soft, panting grunts in your ear that made your pussy clench onto him tighter, hold him in deeper. He let out a muffled groan and finally spilled himself inside you.

His hot, pulsing cum squelched as it mixed with your own essence. He continued snapping his hips like he couldn’t help it. Like he couldn’t stop. You gripped onto his warm thigh, throwing that ass right back on him so you could milk him for every drop.

Your panting breaths were louder than his as he softened. He pulled out and adjusted himself. You remained faced forward to allow him time to zip himself back up. When you heard the zipper go back up, you dared a glance behind you.

He was right back to the stoic, monolith of a man as he stared in your direction. “Fuck, that was amazing,” you giggled, feeling drunk just off the strength of his fucking. You had enough moonlight to spot your red lace panties on the ground.

Noir was faster, snatching it before your fingers could close around the cloth. You grinned at Noir as he put a finger against his mask and tucked your panties into his pocket.

“You really gonna leave me here like this?” You asked.

Noir nodded slowly. “Asshole,” you smirked.

You walked around him and Noir followed the movement, twisting his body all the way around. You backed away, heading for the entrance. You were thoroughly tired, legs aching, but still, you found that you wanted more. The night was still young-ish.

You blew a kiss at Noir. “Catch me if you can,” you sang as you danced out of the maze, picking up speed when you heard Noir scramble after you.

There will be more! The Secret Black Noir Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Black Noir Files #Black Noir x Black!reader #Black Noir x Black reader #x Black reader #Black Noir x Fem!reader #Black Noir x Fem reader #x Fem reader #Black Noir x plus size reader #Black Noir fanfic #Black Noir fan fic #Black Noir fanfiction #Black Noir fan fiction #Black Noir smut #The Boys fanfic #The Boys fan fic #The Boys fanfiction #The Boys fan fiction #The Boys smut

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 5 months ago

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Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 1

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Summary: Tasked to hunt the demigod Messmer by order of the followers of Miquella the Kind, your purpose strays from theirs, creating a destiny you plan on executing.

A/N: I've only just started playing the DLC, but this will diverge from it and keep to a different story. One of dual pain, hardships and connection.

Your build is based on the samurai, with a nagakiba as your weapon.

Outfit: Skeletal Mask, Confessor Armor, Preceptor Gloves & Legs

A03 link

Chapter 1: Consumed

It started with a simple task:

In the name of Miquella the Kind, find and destroy Messmer the Impaler.

A task so simple that even you believed that it could be given to one of his devoted followers. It had been Leda, the Needle Knight, standing vigilant in front of Miquella's cocoon state in Mohgwyn Palace, who had tasked you with stepping through the veil to the Realm of Shadow. She spoke of the great destiny that led you here, guided by faith. Though vague in her directions and quest, you obliged, thinking not much about what you had to do.

Like the plague, it began with the whispering of his name.

It was the mutterings of those you vanquished - his soldiers - donned in grey and onyx - spoke his name like a curse not to be spoken. The encampments were scattered across the lands, a fire that burnt hotter than any flame you had seen before. His was brighter, bolder, harsher, casting hate and cinders to those in its path.

You witnessed it in those who survived the crusades. It was seen in those who stumbled from crushed and burnt buildings, still smoldering as they moaned and wandered. It had been utter torment to give them mercy, for it should've been given first-hand by the tyrant himself.

What was Messmer if not a monster? If Miquella had any chance of dealing with him, how could you handle him? It did not matter what you thought; being Tarnished meant your thoughts were long forgotten and ignored. You were restless and weary from travelling, staying up as you stared into the golden hues of sites of Graces littered across the lands, thinking of what you must do.

The Shadow Keep was an ashen yet mighty stronghold, and it didn't take much to get through its walls.

When you first caught a glimpse of the portrait that stood high and mighty in the main plaza the man himself, it had been broken and left with part of his face not visible. Torn down from the aeons, you couldn't help but notice the faint outlines of red hair that could be seen where it had been razed. It had only left you in greater agitation, grumbling to yourself that you had to deal with another redhead.

"This fucking family."

The Shadow Keep was a maze itself, with winding corridors of endless shadows and abyss. You trekked through many floors, handing fire knights as you passed until you made it to the one thing you were both loathed and pleased to see. The golden hue that encased the site of Grace in front of you told you one of many things; death loomed just in front of you. And from the site, laid the heavy doors, your path awaiting.

You camped for as long as needed, contemplating why you had decided to do all this for a demigod you did not care so much for. Miquella and the majority of Marika's children schemed, plotted and hated one another, what would one Tarnished solve?

Feeling a sense of acceptance to it all, you stood, heaving the heavy doors open as you were swallowed into nothingness.

The room was large enough, that you could only sense from how far you walked through, with no sight of Messmer anywhere. It was only when you saw the soft glimmering of embers begin to grow in size that you realised candles were being lit on their own. You marveled, before a voice cut through the stillness of the room.

"Mongrel intruder."

It stung to be spoken to like that, only did you feel your chest clench, your hand instinctively going to your scabbard, gripping it and holding your position, ready to strike if attacked first. No noise nor attack came, and when you looked around your surroundings, clearer to see through, you turned to meet the gaze of a serpentine, staring curiously back at you.

"Thou'rt... Tarnished, it seemth," the voice seemed surprised, though there was a toll of tiredness to the richness of his voice. It reverberated through the throne room and your hammering chest. "Mother, wouldst thou truly Lordship sanction," the snake pulled back from you, retreating away as you caught sight of who it was going back to, "in one so bereft of light?"

From the shadows, a throne stood, and with it, the man you were looking for.

He was larger than you imagined, slowly rising from his seat as he staggered towards you. His long arms swayed as did the two winged serpents attached to him, wrapped around him like vines. Everything to him was red, his hair, clothing and snakes, deadly and intense. "Yet... My purpose standeth unchanged." His voice was a soft timbre, albeit twisted with spite.

From his hands, came a swarm of flames, smouldering and blazing just as they did all before. You could see your hanging body through them, a vision of chaos and destruction that awaited if you did not do anything. But he loomed over you even from a height, raising his flaming hand like a trophy to behold, his other hand gripping the daunting spear with ease. "Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death." The fire burnt in his golden eye, raging as fierce as him, full of hatred for something like you. Impure, stripped from grace, "in the embrace of Messmer's flame."

You weren't given much of a chance to pull forth your nagakiba, for Messmer had lunged high into the air, embued in flames as he spear in hand, slamming down into the ground. You had a few seconds to roll out of the way, as when he landed, flame and spears burst forth, nearly catching you by the cloth of your armour. Ash and cinders burnt into your nostrils, with no time to retreat as his spear reached towards you with such speed that it didn't seem possible.

You rolled again to avoid his swift movements, getting caught in the final jab that caught you in the thigh. You hissed, blood sizzling, your grieves soaked with blood and fraying with burnt ashes. You took some more jabs at you, one to your side and the shoulder as you tried to stay as close in range as possible, attempting to swipe at him before he could stab back at you. He immediately took a more defensive stance and avoided your cut. You sheathed your blade, waiting for him to lunge before you leapt forth, unsheathing your blade and landing a blow he could not avoid. It seemed impressive in the seconds, a hiss drawing from his lips, eye burning furiously down towards you when his spear thrust in a flurry, giving you no time to revel in your small victory.

The heat that rolled off him had left no air to fill your lungs, leaving you panting and struggling. It had caused him to believe he had the upper hand, advancing towards you ready to strike when you rolled further back from him. When you were far back enough, you pulled forth from your pocket the grease you had found many times in your travels. The freezing grease burnt through your gloves as you applied it to your blade, shining in contrast to the barrel of flames being thrown towards you.

You rolled but you got caught again, crying out aloud as Messmer charged towards you, hand out as if ready to grab you. With enough time, you swung your blade down, catching him by the exposed flesh of his thigh and moving out of the way before he could grab you.

With his back towards you, you swung again, hitting him against his armour and once more to get him to move away from you. You could hear the snakes hissing in pain with him, making you wonder if they shared his pain.

Messmer pulled back, fire against ice, leaping to the air as he in time when he landed, you landed a heavier blow. The sound that came from him was garbled, stopping to look down at his arm as he jumped backwards. It had been just a win to stagger him backwards, knocking him to his knees, his spear thudding by his side. The grease had gotten him so good that it left him bleeding, but his pride had not been broken, only strengthened.

"I will not suffer," he gasped, wisps of red hair floating through his serpentine helm. "A lord devoid of light." When he stood, it was slow, painfully slow. But something had awoken in him. He may have been part God, but he was still part man, a broken man at that, tired from the throws of his mother's war. Behind his throne, stood a statue of a woman, clutching to her chest a babe swaddled in cloth. "O mother, forgive me." There was a strain in his voice, defeat heavy that laid on his shoulders.

You didn't know what he would do next except destroy you further in body and soul, but when he paused to reach towards his face, did you realise what he was doing. His eye was not real, a seal to keep something within him away. Unleashing it would would not stop anything, and draw further misery for you to deal with.

Don't let him do this. A voice in your mind was frantic, screaming at you to do something as you watched his hand draw closer and closer to his eye. Your panic rose like a wildfire in your chest before you could even realise what the words you were saying were.

"I yield." Your adrenaline was fading fast, panic pumping swiftly in your veins. You needed to say it louder, louder for him to hear before it was too late. "I yield." This time, there was a trace of defeat laced in your screams. "I YIELD!"

It had been enough to pause the Impaler from his actions, his seeing-eye peering back at you with as much surprise as you did for him. Neither of you spoke, the sounds of your heavy breathing danced along the large room. You realised in that moment from the way he was glaring at you that it wasn't that he didn't hear you, but that he wanted you to repeat it. You crumpled, your shoulders slumped, and your voice had a soft timbre. "Messmer... I yield." To further keep to your word, you threw your katana backwards from you, holding emphasis on your words if he ever did believe them.

He didn't answer you at first, and his eerie gaze had left you feeling more ill at ease than intimidated. Hatred, fascination, intrigue? It was hard to decipher what he was thinking.

"Thee wisheth to surrend'r when thee hath raised thy blade at me?" His words startled you out of your thoughts, his voice a hiss of venom and mocking you. Your peripheral caught his two serpents, intertwining around their master like a shield, hissing lowly into the dimly lit room in warning.

"It was hard to explain myself when you were already lunging at me!" It was a pathetic reason, and Messmer knew it as much, still as if ready to rip his eye out if you didn't give a good enough answer. Tarnished like yourself were never given the time of day for a reason. The blade was always swung first before you could ask questions, nor for a reason to side with them. A lonely life, even surrounded by others like yourself, you knew it wouldn't matter to the kin of Gods if you sided with them.

"Thou art not the first tarnished to enter mine own halls, nor the lasteth," Messmer uttered, the grip on his spear was daunting as you stared both down. "Wand'ring through mine own keep, wishing for mercy and boons? Bid me, which foul being hath sent thee here?"

This was your only chance to explain yourself, and even still, you could end just the same as his enemies, spiked up for all the world to see of his terrors. "I've come to warn you. Miquella is up to something-- his followers told me to come here, to hunt you. I know nothing of what he's doing or needs, but it involves killing you."

It was at that moment that you truly sounded foolish, not knowing what Leda had tasked you with. Why did she need Messmer dead if she could not task herself or another to do it? And why did it involve Miquella?

The air around Messmer grew in confidence, and he looked all the more like a God painted in crimson. "So he sends a decoy to distract me whilst he plots?" His lips twist into a small smirk, though he looks still bored by it all. You can hear your own breathing as Messmer moves towards you calculatingly slow, his intimidating body twisted from his curse.

His voice was a mere whisper at his next words:

"Tell mine own broth'r and his devotees I shall has't their heads or I shall has't their loyalty. "

You were too taken aback by the presence of him so close to you now, concentrating on his words that you didn't notice the presence behind you fast approaching. Something smacked you in the back of your head so hard that your world spun. Your helm nearly fell from your head, but you had no time to react to it when the ground was meeting you.

Quick to the ground, you fell to a knee, trying to pull out a dagger on the person behind you, before another pair of arms grabbed you, twisting your wrist back as a scream so vicious left your broken body. Your dagger was knocked from your hand, landing inches from the demigod's feet. Messmer simply watched as his fire knights seized you, dragging you up as you writhed and struggled.

This was it, the end of your attempts and to be an enemy not just to Messmer but to Miquella for betraying him and Leda. Death had seemed to be the only you wished to welcome in these moments rather than face their wrath.

"Add her to the gaols," he spoke, spinning on his heel as he slowly walked away from you, "perhaps our guest shall wisheth for some blessings."

And so, you screamed for him, screamed for all the anguish, the misery and pain of being tarnished, lightless. The weight of something once again smacked you against your head, this time a straight blow to the side. You groaned, darkness dotting your vision as the last thing you saw was the sight of crimson, as deadly and beautiful as his flames.

A/N:

I realised I can't write fight scenes to save my life.

#messmer the impaler x reader #messmer #elden ring messmer #messmer x reader #messmer the impaler #elden ring fic #itstheendofthegoddamnworld writes #tarnished! reader #elden ring #messmer the impaler fic

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nlvrr · 20 days ago

Note

Reader who was bullied when young and then jude and her go to her hometown and everyone freaks out cause that's freaking jude bellingham and they get like, impressed by reader success as an f1 engineer and that she bagged jude? Sorry its way too specific 😅

THE RETURN | jude bellingham

summary: anon ask !! ^^

warnings: bullying

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

a/n: this was so fun to make it — i hope you like it! i loved seeing jude’s gentle, yet assertive, protectiveness over reader come out.

it had been over a decade since she left her small hometown, a place that had always felt too confining. school had been a maze of awkward silences, cruel jokes, and a lingering sense of being invisible. back then, she was the quiet girl in the back of the class—trying her hardest to avoid attention and desperately wanting to fit in but never quite succeeding. those memories had faded slowly as she built a new life in the city: a promising career in f1 engineering, accomplishments that filled her with pride, and—most unexpectedly—her relationship with jude bellingham, a relationship that had made her feel seen for the first time.

she hadn’t planned on attending her high school reunion, but somehow, as time passed, she felt ready to confront her past. and she wasn’t facing it alone—jude, her supportive, gentle boyfriend, had insisted on coming with her. he knew how much the reunion meant to her.

as they neared the venue, her chest tightened. “you sure you’re okay?” jude asked quietly, his brown eyes locked on hers with such deep concern, a flicker of empathy in his gaze.

she smiled faintly, though her heart fluttered in her chest. “yeah, just… nervous, i guess. it’s a bit overwhelming, coming back here.” the memories were almost too much—yet she knew jude would be there to catch her if she fell. his warmth and confidence always soothed the anxieties she hadn’t quite let go of.

jude’s hand found hers, gently giving it a squeeze. “you’ve got this. and hey, you’re not that same girl anymore. you’ve got a life you’ve built. you’ve got me. so, whatever happens in there—we got this.” his smile was warm, steady.

she nodded, her heart calming a little under the strength of his reassuring presence. “thank you,” she whispered, feeling the gentleness of his support course through her.

when they entered the venue, the familiar buzz of voices was louder than she expected. the gymnasium—the place where she had always lingered by the edges of the crowd—had been transformed for the reunion, but it still carried the same sense of nostalgia and unease. the noise didn’t stop when they entered. no, it quickly escalated into murmurs, quickly followed by gasps and hushed conversation as her old classmates processed the sight of them.

“wait… is that jude bellingham?” she heard someone say under their breath, the tone an odd mix of surprise and disbelief. it wasn’t like jude wasn’t famous, but she couldn’t quite suppress the sudden feeling of being under a spotlight, her past self suddenly being evaluated against this new version she had built.

“wait a minute, is that—” another voice piped up, a bit louder. “she’s with him? no way. this is crazy.”

suddenly, everything about the reunion felt too much, like she was back in high school for all the wrong reasons—under scrutiny, exposed to the gossipy whispers. but when she turned to jude, she found him completely unfazed, his face calm and reassuring. his hand gently curled around hers again, his fingers entwining with hers as he led her through the crowd.

“let’s take it easy. we’re here to have fun,” he murmured softly, as if to remind her there was no reason to worry, that the stares and whispers didn’t matter. still, the tightness in her chest didn’t fully ease as they made their way deeper into the hall. and then, of course, it happened.

nate. of course it was him.

she had seen him from a distance—a face that would forever be linked to the teasing and mockery from her younger years. the smugness in his smile, the way he walked with that brash, confident air, brought it all flooding back. she couldn’t help but bristle as he weaved his way through the crowd, his eyes landing on her with that unmistakable sneer she knew so well.

“well, well, if it isn’t the quiet girl who thought no one would notice her,” nate said, leaning forward with his arms crossed. his voice was louder than before, punctuated with that mocking laugh that still grated on her after all these years.

she squared her shoulders, meeting his gaze evenly, but her heart was pounding. she wanted to respond—really respond—but the memories of her high school self threatened to stifle her words.

“you’ve done well for yourself, huh?” nate continued, his eyes trailing over jude briefly before resting on her again, the smirk not leaving his lips. “didn’t expect you to end up with a guy like him. seems… out of place, don’t you think?” he laughed again, as if she’d just become the punchline of an old joke.

for a split second, her gut twisted in frustration and vulnerability. she had worked so hard to move past everything nate represented, but sometimes it was easy to feel like that quiet, unsure girl again—especially with him standing there, grinning like she wasn’t good enough.

but just before she could respond, jude moved, the energy shifting as he closed the distance between them. with effortless ease, he stepped forward, positioning himself just behind her. she felt the comforting heat of his body pressing against her back, and in that moment, a sudden wave of relief washed over her. his calm presence enveloped her like a blanket, his very proximity pushing away the anxiety.

jude’s hands found her waist gently, but firmly, resting there as he spoke in a soft, steady voice that carried a quiet but undeniable power.

“i think you need to remember something,” jude said evenly, not raising his voice, but letting his words hang in the air. his tone was firm, protective. “you have no right to talk to her like that. she’s amazing. and you don’t get to undermine her. not on my watch.”

the crowd around them seemed to grow still. he didn’t shout, didn’t make a scene—he didn’t need to. there was something almost effortless in the way jude claimed his position beside her. he wasn’t just her boyfriend, trying to defend her for the sake of it—he was a man who genuinely believed in her and made sure everyone around them knew it.

nate stood there, caught off guard, the confrontation falling to the ground between them. the smugness on his face faltered, and for a brief moment, the arrogance of his words evaporated. he shifted his weight, his shoulders tightening, before letting out a forced laugh.

“yeah, okay, man. whatever,” nate mumbled, avoiding jude’s unflinching gaze. with one final glance in her direction—less sure now—he turned on his heel, weaving through the crowd without another word.

as soon as he disappeared into the room, jude gently pulled her closer, his hands still resting on her hips as if grounding her in the moment. she turned, her eyes searching his for a trace of something—anything—but all she found was tenderness.

“are you alright?” jude asked, his voice low, full of concern, as he looked down at her. his brown eyes were warm, sincere.

she didn’t answer right away, her throat too tight with emotion. but after a deep, shaky breath, she nodded, pressing her face against his chest. “yeah. i just… i forgot what that felt like, you know? having someone try to drag me back to that place.”

jude brushed a hand gently over her hair, kissing the top of her head, his voice a soothing whisper. “you don’t ever have to go back there, not while i’m here. you’re so much more than they’ll ever realize. and i’m not going anywhere.”

her breath hitched at his words, and as the sounds of the reunion picked up again in the background, she didn’t feel the weight of the past anymore. jude had held her through the sting, had quietly and protectively shown her the strength she had long hidden. together, nothing seemed impossible.

his touch on her back was warm, steady. “let’s have a good time tonight, okay?” he murmured, pressing another soft kiss to her forehead.

she pulled back slightly, smiling softly as she looked up at him. “yeah,” she whispered, finding her voice again. “yeah, let’s.”

and with that, they walked forward together, facing whatever came next. this time, together.

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hd-junglebook · 9 months ago

Text

Little Dove

Quinn Hughes x Reader

a:n Here is part 2, the only thing I could think of while writing this was 'The Gold' by Phoebe Bridgers. I think it really speaks for how y/n sees the situation and her life at the moment.

Masterlist Link

Summary: He's everything she wants. He's everything she wished she had. All she wanted was him. The hot and cold game has finally reached its limit.

Word Count - 5046

The sleek, black limo glided up the long, winding driveway, its polished exterior gleaming under the warm sunlight. As it approached the magnificent mansion, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the opulent surroundings.

The meticulously manicured lawn stretched out before her, a lush carpet of vibrant green grass that looked almost too perfect to be real.

In the center of the sprawling grounds, a grand fountain stood tall, its crystal-clear water cascading down the intricately carved stone tiers, creating a soothing symphony of gentle splashes.

As the limo came to a stop near the impressive front steps, a group of well-dressed helpers emerged from the mansion's large, ornate doors. They stood at attention, their crisp uniforms and shoes polished.

Just then, the front doors swung open, and Y/N's grandmother stepped out, a vision of elegance and grace. She was dressed in an all-white ensemble, the flowing fabric of her dress billowing gently in the breeze.

Her delicate hands were adorned with pristine white gloves, and a strand of exquisite pearls rested against her neck, catching the light and adding to her air of sophistication.

The driver swiftly exited the limo and rushed to Y/N's side, opening the door with a practiced flourish. He offered his hand, assisting Y/N and her mother out of the vehicle with the utmost care and reverence.

As they walked closer to the steps, Y/N's grandmother's face lit up with a warm, genuine smile. "Oh, darling, how I've longed to see you," she exclaimed, her voice filled with affection. "Come here, little dove."

Y/N couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion as she stepped into her grandmother's embrace. The older woman's arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a comforting warmth that seemed to chase away all the stress and disappointment she had been carrying. It had been so long since anyone in her family had shown her such pure, unconditional love and acceptance.

Y/N breathed in the sweet, familiar scent of her grandmother's perfume, a delicate blend of chamomile and sugar.

The softness of her grandmother's gloves against her skin was a soothing contrast to the cold, impersonal interactions she was used to with her parents.

Around them, the grandeur of the mansion seemed to fade into the background, the lavish furnishings and priceless works of art becoming mere footnotes in the presence of Y/N and her grandmother.

Once they separated Y/N's grandmother cupped her face with her gloved hands, her eyes shining with pride and adoration. "Let me look at you, my dear," she said softly, taking in every detail of Y/N's appearance. "You've grown into such a beautiful young woman."

…

The posse entered the sun room, Y/N was struck by the sheer elegance of the space. The room was flooded with natural light, the sun's rays filtering through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the meticulously landscaped gardens beyond.

In the center of the room, a grand table was set with the finest china and silverware, each place setting arranged with precision and care. The aroma of freshly prepared delicacies filled the air, making Y/N's mouth water in anticipation.

As they took their seats, the conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and the clinking of glasses. However, after a while, Cherise turned to Y/N with a knowing smile and asked her to accompany her for a walk in the garden.

Arm in arm, the two women strolled through the lush, meticulously maintained grounds. The garden was a true work of art, with winding paths that led through a maze of fragrant rose bushes, towering topiaries, and bubbling fountains.

Cherise broached the subject that had been weighing on her mind. "Tell me, dear, when will you settle down?" she asked, her voice laced with concern. "It hurts me to see you alone."

Y/N shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "I'm not alone, grandmother," she replied, her voice soft but filled with contentment. "I am with someone. Nothing serious, but things are going smoothly now. He makes me happy."

The steady click of their heels against the pavement punctuated their words. Cherise listened intently, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Then give me a grandbaby already, if you're so happy," she teased, her laughter ringing out like a bell in the garden. Y/N couldn't help but join in, their laughter mingling with the chirping of the birds and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Y/N smiled softly as her grandmother continued, her words filled with wisdom and understanding. "I'm only joking, little dove. I would like to meet him, maybe when things get 'serious,' I guess. I want you to feel love like I have with your grandfather. You deserve that, not some beneficial marriage like your mother and father. I don't know where I went wrong with her."

Y/N nodded along, finding no reason to disagree with her grandmother's sentiment. She knew that her parents' relationship was one of convenience and status, lacking the warmth and genuine connection she craved. "I think you'd like him," she said, a hint of hope in her voice.

As they neared the house, Dedra rushed down the stairs, her face tight with impatience. "Let's go, we have to get back to work," she demanded, her tone leaving no room for argument.

…

Y/N stepped into her bedroom, exhaustion weighing heavily on her shoulders. She slipped out of her clothes and into a comfortable robe, the soft fabric caressing her skin. Settling down at her vanity, she began removing her makeup, the process of wiping away the day's mask a soothing ritual.

As she reached for her phone, she noticed a message from Quinn. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the conversation, eager to connect with him after the emotionally draining day.

Y/N: I wish you were here with me. Today was intense.

Quinn: I'm sorry. Do you want to talk about it?

Y/N: It's just family stuff. They have all these expectations, and I feel like I'm constantly disappointing them.

They texted back and forth, Y/N continued getting ready, applying her makeup with practiced precision. Once she finished her base, she stood up and slipped into the red dress she had chosen for their date. The fabric hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating her figure in all the right places.

She admired her reflection in the mirror, a small smile playing on her lips as she imagined Quinn's reaction. Just then, her phone buzzed with another message.

Quinn: I'm outside.

Y/N felt a flutter of excitement mixed with nerves as she grabbed her purse and made her way to the front door. She stepped outside, the cool evening air kissing her skin as she walked towards Quinn's car.

He had his windows rolled down, a smile on his face as he watched her approach. His eyes roamed over her body appreciatively, taking in the sight of her in the stunning red dress.

"Looking good," he said, his voice smooth and filled with admiration.

Y/N felt a blush creep onto her cheeks, a mixture of pleasure and uncertainty swirling within her. “Thanks hottie.” she said as she slid into the passenger seat. She knew that her feelings for Quinn were growing stronger each day, but the fear of him not wanting her scared beyond comprehension.

Quinn pulled out of Y/N's driveway, he glanced over at her, his gaze lingering for a few seconds. The curiosity in his eyes was evident. "So where is this restaurant you were telling me about or is it some kind of surprise?" she asked, leaning over the middle console.

He smiled mysteriously, enjoying the playful anticipation that hung in the air between them. "You'll just have to wait and see," he teased. Quinn chuckled at her betrayed expression, shaking his head in amusement as he focused on the road ahead.

conversation flowed easily between them, filled with laughter and the occasional playful jab. Even though they talked about nothing of great importance, Y/N found herself thoroughly enjoying the simple pleasure of Quinn's company.

city lights flashed by the windows, painting the interior of the car with a kaleidoscope of colors. Y/N leaned back in her seat, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her.

As they continued driving, y/n’s curiosity got the better of her once more. "Come on, Y/N, give me a hint," she pleaded, eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm dying to know where you're taking me."

Quinn laughed, the sound filled with genuine joy. "Patience, dear," he chided gently, reaching over to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "I promise it'll be worth the wait."

…

Y/N felt a shiver run down her spine as Quinn's strong hands grasped her waist, his touch both thrilling and comforting. She looked up at him, her eyes meeting his, and saw a glimmer of affection and excitement reflected back at her.

"Lead the way," she said softly, a smile playing on her lips as she allowed him to guide her towards the restaurant.

As they approached the entrance, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of the establishment. The facade was a masterpiece of modern architecture. The name of the restaurant was emblazoned above the doors in elegant, golden script.

Quinn's arm remained securely around her waist as they stepped through the doors. The interior of the restaurant was just as breathtaking as the exterior, with plush carpets, glittering chandeliers, and rich, velvet draperies.

The hostess led them to their table, she glanced at Quinn, taking in the way his suit hugged his athletic frame and the confident, easy smile that played on his lips. When they were seated, Quinn reached across the table and took her hand in his, his fingers intertwining with hers. She squeezed his hand in return.

They perused the menu, discussing the various options and sharing bites of each other's dishes. Quinn enthusiastically shared his plans for preparing his hockey team for the upcoming season. He spoke about new training regimens, team-building exercises, and strategies he hoped to implement.

Y/N listened intently, her eyes focused on Quinn as he passionately described his goals and aspirations.

However, at one point, Quinn glanced over at Y/N, a flicker of doubt crossing his features. He wondered if she was truly interested in the intricacies of his hockey career or if he was boring her with the details. Y/N, sensing his uncertainty, quickly broke into a smile and laughed, hoping to ease his worries.

"Everything about you interests me, Quinn," she said earnestly, reaching across the table to take his hand in hers. "I could never get bored of you. Being around you makes me happy, ya know?"

The sincerity in her voice was evident, but Quinn's reaction was not what Y/N had expected. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his hand stiffening under her touch. An awkward silence fell between them, the air thick with tension.

Quinn cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the restaurant as if searching for an escape. "Y/N," he began, his voice strained, "I... I think we need to talk."

Y/N felt her heart sink, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach. She withdrew her hand from his, folding her arms across her chest as if to protect herself from the words she knew were coming.

"I care about you, Y/N. I really do," Quinn continued, his gaze finally settling on her face. "But I need you to understand that I'm not looking for anything too serious right now. I thought we were on the same page about that."

Y/N nodded slowly, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in her throat. She knew Quinn had been clear about his intentions from the start, but somewhere along the way, she had allowed herself to hope for more.

"I know," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I didn't mean to pressure you."

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not your fault, Y/N. I should have been more clear. I just... I don't want to hurt you."

The words hung heavy in the air between them, a reminder of the fragility of their connection. Y/N forced a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's okay, Quinn. We can take things slow. I'm just happy to be here with you." Quinn returned her smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. The rest of the evening was spent in polite conversation, but the earlier ease and warmth between them had dissipated.

…

The pulsing rhythms of the music filled the crowded nightclub, the bass thumping through the floor and vibrating in Y/N's chest as she carefully navigated her way back to the booth where her friends were waiting. In her hands, she balanced a tray laden with six colorful cocktails, each one adorned with a tiny umbrella and a slice of fruit.

Y/N couldn't help but smile at the sight of her five best friends, all dressed to the nines and ready for a night of fun and laughter. She shimmied into the booth, sliding in next to Raven, her closest confidante.

"Ladies, I present to you six drinks for six beautiful women," Y/N announced, her voice rising above the din of the club. She passed out the cocktails, each one met with a chorus of excited cheers and appreciative nods.

The women wasted no time in downing their drinks, the sweet, fruity flavors masking the potent alcohol within. As they finished, they let out exaggerated gasps and howls of delight, the alcohol already beginning to work its magic and loosen their inhibitions.

Raven leaned in close to Y/N, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "So, see anyone you like?" she drawled out, her voice low and conspiratorial.

Y/N surveyed the dance floor, her gaze roving over the writhing bodies and the flashing lights. She had to admit, there were plenty of attractive men in the club tonight, their bodies moving in perfect sync with the pulsing beat.

"A few," she admitted, a sly smile playing on her lips. "But no one interesting enough to take home, that's for sure."

Raven giggled at Y/N's response, her laughter infectious and carefree. She scanned the room herself, her eyes suddenly widening as she spotted someone across the way.

"Well, I see one eyeing you up over there," she said, pointing discreetly in the direction of the bar.

Y/N followed Raven's finger, her gaze landing on a devastatingly handsome man with curly black hair and a chiseled jawline. He was leaning against the bar, his back pressed against the polished wood, and his eyes were locked on Y/N, a smoldering intensity in his gaze.

Y/N felt a flush of heat rush through her body as she met his stare, her heart skipping a beat in her chest. She raised her hand in a small wave, a coy smile playing on her lips.

But even as she flirted with the stranger across the room, Y/N couldn't shake the nagging feeling of guilt that tugged at the back of her mind. She thought of Quinn and the uncertain status of their relationship.

"I don't know, Raven," she said, her voice tinged with hesitation. "I haven't ended things with Quinn yet. It would feel wrong to pursue someone else."

A collective groan sounded from the table, as her friends all chimed in with their opinions.

"Girl, you're single. Do what you want," one said, her voice firm and encouraging.

"Quinn's not here tonight. What he doesn't know won't hurt him," another added, her tone mischievous and daring.

Y/N bit her lip, torn between her desire to let loose and have fun and her loyalty to the man she cared for.

She knew things with Quinn were complicated, that he had been distant and evasive in recent days. But still, the thought of betraying his trust, even in a moment of drunken weakness, made her stomach churn.

As she sat there, surrounded by the pulsing energy of the club and the encouraging words of her friends, Y/N knew she had a decision to make. She could play it safe, go home alone and wait for Quinn to come around. Or she could take a chance, let herself get swept up in the moment and see where the night might lead her.

With a deep breath and a final glance at the handsome stranger across the room, Y/N made her choice.

…

The heat of the crowded dance floor was almost unbearable as Y/N swayed to the pulsing beat, her body moving in perfect sync with the mysterious man from the bar. His hands were on her hips, his touch searing through the thin fabric of her dress and setting her skin ablaze.

The dance floor was a sea of moving bodies, gyrating and swaying to the music as the multicolored lights flashed and swirled overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of hues across the sweat-slicked skin of the dancers.

Y/N felt the heat rising from the packed bodies around her, the air thick with the scent of perfume, alcohol, and pheromones. She moved in perfect rhythm with the mysterious man from the bar, their bodies impossibly close as they lost themselves in the primal, sensual flow of the music.

His hands roamed over her curves, his touch both electrifying and possessive as he pulled her flush against his muscular frame. Y/N could feel the hard planes of his chest pressing against her back, his hips grinding against hers in a way that sent shivers of desire racing down her spine.

Clinking glasses and raucous laughter from the nearby bar mixed with the pounding bass, creating a heady cocktail of sensory overload.

Y/N felt dizzy with the rush of it all, her head spinning from the alcohol and the intoxicating presence of the man behind her. As the song reached its crescendo, he leaned in close, his hot breath tickling the sensitive skin of her neck as he mumbled something in her ear, his words almost lost in the pounding music.

Y/N turned in his hold, pressing her back against his chest and feigning ignorance. "Sorry, the music is really loud. I can't hear you," she shouted over the din, a coy smile playing on her lips.

She felt his chest rumble with laughter, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. He tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

"I said, come home with me," he repeated, his voice low and husky, filled with unmistakable desire. Y/N's heart raced at his bold suggestion. She knew she should say no, that leaving with a stranger was a dangerous game. But the alcohol in her system and the electric chemistry between them made it hard to think straight.

She turned to face him, a playful shrug on her shoulders. "I can't leave my friends alone tonight," she said, her voice apologetic. "But how about I give you my number instead?"

The man's face hardened, a flash of annoyance crossing his features. He scoffed, as if offended by her suggestion, and shook his head in disbelief.

"Fine," he said, his tone clipped as he extended his phone towards her. "Put it in."

Y/N took the device, her fingers trembling slightly as she typed in a fake number, purposely transposing the digits. She couldn't risk giving him her real contact information, not when she was still unsure of her feelings for Quinn.

She handed the phone back and fixed him with a stern look. "Now, shut up and dance," she said, her voice firm and unyielding. The man's eyes narrowed, a flicker of anger burning in their depths. He grabbed her wrist, his grip tight and possessive.

"You think you can just tease me like that and walk away?" he growled, his face inches from hers. "I don't take kindly to being led on." Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, fear and adrenaline coursing through her veins. She tried to pull away, but his hold was too strong.

"Let go of me," she said, her voice shaking with a mix of anger and fear. "I don't owe you anything."

Around them, the other dancers continued to move, oblivious to the drama unfolding in their midst. Y/N's friends were nowhere to be seen, lost in the sea of writhing bodies and flashing lights.

The man's grip tightened, his fingers digging into her skin. "No one rejects me!”

With a sudden burst of strength, Y/N wrenched her arm free, stumbling backwards and nearly losing her balance. She turned on her heel, pushing through the crowd as she desperately searched for her friends.

Her heart was racing, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

…

Y/N stumbled out of the nightclub, her heart pounding and her head spinning from the encounter. The cool night air hit her skin, providing a momentary relief from the stifling heat of the dance floor.

She leaned against the rough brick wall, her hands shaking as she fumbled with her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found Quinn's name.

She hesitated for a moment, her thumb hovering over the call button. Things between her and Quinn had been strained lately, and she wasn't sure if he would even answer. But as a wave of nausea washed over her, the severity of the situation hit her, and she knew she needed help.

Y/N pressed the button, holding the phone to her ear as she tried to steady her breathing. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before Quinn's voice finally filled her ear.

"Hello?" he answered, the sound of music and laughter echoing in the background.

"Quinn," Y/N said, her voice trembling. "I... I need you."

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and for a moment, Y/N feared he would hang up on her. But then Quinn's voice returned, this time laced with concern.

"Y/N? What's wrong? Where are you?"

She took a shuddering breath, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I'm at Taipei," she said, her words coming out in a rush. "I... I was dancing with this guy, and he... he tried to... I don't know, I just... I need you to come get me. Please."

There was another pause, and Y/N could hear the sound of Quinn moving, the background noise fading as he stepped away from wherever he was. "I'm on my way," he said, his voice firm and reassuring. "Stay where you are, okay? I'll be there as soon as I can."

Y/N nodded, even though she knew he couldn't see her. "Okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own heartbeat.

As the call ended, Y/N slid down the wall, hugging her knees to her chest as the tears finally spilled over. She felt sick to her stomach.

…

"Y/N!"

She looked up, her vision blurry with tears, to see Quinn running towards her, his face etched with worry. He dropped to his knees beside her, his arms instinctively wrapping around her trembling frame.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice soft and soothing.

Y/N clung to him, burying her face in his chest as the emotions she had been holding back finally broke free. She sobbed openly, her body shaking with the force of her tears as Quinn held her close, his hands rubbing gentle circles on her back.

Y/N's voice trembled as she spoke, her words laced with a mixture of sadness and desperation. "What have you been doing? It's been days, Quinn. Days without a single word from you."

Quinn froze, caught off guard by her sudden questioning. He stumbled over his words, trying to find the right response. "I... I've been busy, Y/N. You know how it is."

She shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "No, I don't know how it is. You don't want to talk to me? Is that what this is?" Her voice cracked, the pain in her heart spilling out into her words. "I don't want to do this with you anymore if you don't want to be with me eventually, Quinn. I can't keep going on like this."

Quinn reached out to her, his eyes pleading. "Y/N, please. Let's not do this now. We'll talk in the morning, okay? When we've both had a chance to clear our mind, and we’re home in bed."

But Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotions any longer. She looked at him, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the affection she so desperately craved. "Do you feel anything for me, Quinn? Even just a little?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "Of course I do Y/N..."

"Please," she begged, her voice barely above a whisper. "Just be honest with me then. Am I not good enough? Is that why you've been pulling away?"

Quinn's heart ached at the sight of her pain, but he couldn't find the words to comfort her. He knew that his own doubts and fears had been holding him back, preventing him from fully committing to their relationship.

"It's not that, Y/N. It's just... complicated."

She let out a bitter laugh, the sound cutting through the cool night air. "Complicated. Right. That's what it always is with you, isn't it?"

Y/N wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling incredibly small and vulnerable. She looked up at the sky, the stars blurring together through her tears. "I can't keep doing this, Quinn. I can't keep going on dates and sleeping with you, only to be pushed away. It hurts too much."

Quinn's voice wavered as he spoke, his words laced with a deep, aching sadness. "Y/N, please just let me explain at a better time."

But Y/N couldn't hold back the flood of emotions that threatened to consume her. She looked at him, her eyes shimmering with tears that refused to fall.

"If I could go back to the night we met, I would never have agreed to this," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of her own heart. "You make me feel so loved and like you care about me, then you ignore me when I say anything that sounds like I care about you."

The night seemed to grow colder around them, the stars fading into the inky blackness of the sky.

Quinn took a step towards her, his hand outstretched. "I don't mean to hurt you. At all," he said, his voice cracking with emotion.

"What I want is complicated, Y/N. You're so good to me. If I allowed myself to ruin it, I would never forgive myself." Quinn felt his own heart constrict, the depth of her pain hitting him like a physical blow.

Y/N shook her head, a single tear finally escaping and rolling down her cheek. "But don't you see? You're already ruining it. By pushing me away, by refusing to let yourself feel what I know is there."

He wanted so badly to take her in his arms, to promise her that everything would be okay. But he knew that he couldn't make that promise, not when he was still so unsure of his own heart.

Y/N's shoulders shook with silent sobs, her arms wrapped tightly around herself as if to hold the pieces of her shattered heart together. "I don't need you to be perfect, Quinn. I just need you to be honest with me. To stop running away from what we both know is true."

She turned to walk away, Quinn reached out and grabbed her hand. With a gentle tug, he pulled her into his chest, his arms instinctively wrapping around her trembling frame. Y/N's breath caught in her throat as Quinn's lips brushed against her forehead.

Quinn inhaled deeply, breathing in the familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her body against his own. Before Y/N had a chance to protest, to pull away from his embrace, Quinn gently guided her towards his car.

He opened the passenger side door, his hand resting on the small of her back as he helped her inside. With a tender touch, he reached over and clipped her seatbelt, his fingers lingering on the soft skin of her neck for just a moment longer than necessary.

As Quinn slid into the driver's seat, he could feel the weight of Y/N's gaze on him but he couldn't find the words to reassure her, couldn't find the courage to voice the depths of his own feelings.

Instead, he put the car in drive, the engine humming to life as they pulled away from the curb. Y/N turned her head towards the window, her eyes fixed on the expanse of the city that stretched out before them. Tears slipped silently down her cheeks, the glittering lights of the skyline blurring together through her watery vision.

The drive was silent, the only sound the steady thrum of the engine and the distant wail of sirens in the night. Quinn's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white with tension as he navigated the familiar streets that led to Y/N's home.

The sight of her own front door, the promise of solitude and comfort, was a balm to her aching heart. Quinn cut the engine, the sudden silence deafening in the confines of the car.

He moved quickly, exiting the driver's side and rounding the front of the car to open Y/N's door. She stumbled slightly as she stepped out, her legs unsteady beneath her. Quinn's hand found the small of her back once more, his touch a gentle guide as they walked together towards her front door.

With a sense of déjà vu, Quinn reached into his pocket and pulled out the spare key Y/N had given him months ago, he slid the key into the lock, the click of the tumblers echoing loudly in the stillness of the night.

As the door swung open, Y/N stepped inside, the familiar scent of home enveloping her like a warm embrace. She turned to face Quinn, her eyes searching his face for any sign of the love and affection she so desperately craved.

But his expression was unreadable, his own emotions carefully guarded behind a mask of stoic resolve.

…

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taestarii · 2 years ago

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☼my cure - newt

[newt x reader]

synopsis - newt survives because my heart needed to be healed

warning! swearing, mention of newts accident, blood and knife use

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"You."

I could feel heavy blood running through my veins. This didn't feel like me, I felt… different. Loud thoughts clouded me like thick fog. I could feel my mind slipping away.

"Newt..?" Y/n's voice made me shiver. I had no control anymore, it took everything in me to not lunge at her. I never wanted to hurt her, I never did, but this wasn't me. I was something else, something uncontrollable.

"You're the cure. It's in your blood."

"Newt, what are you-?" I lost it.

I tackled her and her head slammed into the ground. Stop it! Stop hurting her! I knew what I was doing but I couldn't stop it. The virus took control and it knew she had the cure. It was like I was watching a horrible movie through my eyes, one where I hurt the love of my life.

She was the one good thing the creators ever sent up. I saw my fair share of slinthead greenies, but Y/n was something different. I was scared, and alone, until she came up. She was always there with me, even when I was stupid enough to try and take my own life by jumping off the Maze walls.

"newt," she tried to huff through my hands gripping her throat. That's when I realized there was a knife in my hand. I already knew what the virus was planning to do.

I fought with everything I could but I wasn't strong enough. I needed to take control, I needed to take control and get through to Y/n. It felt like I was ripping through my own mind as I pushed, and I pushed. I knew I was there, I could feel-

- "Well hello, greenie." I greeted a very timid girl, huddled in the corner of the Box. "What the fuck is a greenie?" She shot back. That received a lot of laughs and snickers from the other guys. We only had a handful of people in the glade so far, a greenie monthly and we only had about seven, now eight. "Where am I?"

"Welcome to the glade, greenie! I'm Newt, and up there is the first in command, Nick. And second in command, Alby." The two boys waved from the top as she stood on a box and looked out. "What the hell are those walls?" She asked, lifting herself out. "Why am I here? Why can't I remember anything?"

"Slow down, greenie. I know you have a lot of questions, but we only have limited answers. Your name should come back to you in a little wh-"

"Y/n."

"y/n," I whimpered out.

"It's me, Newt." She whispered, tears filling her eyes. "I'm right here." She cupped her face around my cheeks. I knew I didn't have enough time, I needed to get my point out now.

"Kill me."

"What..?"

I shoved the knife into her hands. "Kill me now!" I yelled. She flinched, the knife clutched in her shaky hands. "If you've ever loved me you'll kill me now, Y/n. You'll kill me before I turn into one of them." Tears ran down her cheeks as she sobbed. "Of course I fucking love you, Newt! I have since the glade. You're my everything.“ My tears mixed with the rain as I coughed up a heavy amount of blood. I was losing it, she needed to do it now.

"I love you so much, Y/n. That's why I need you to kill me, now. PLEASE FUCKING KILL ME."

Something snapped. The virus took over and I lost control as I jumped on her and tried to take the knife. Stumbling back on to the floor, we wrestled with the knife. The virus was trying to kill her for her blood, but I needed her to be alive. She had so much life left to live.

She screamed out in pain, the knife had gashed her in her stomach. It took everything she had to flip herself over on top, still crying out in agony. Her wound bled out everywhere as I fought for control of the knife, I kicked and screamed, grabbing the knife and her hands trying to desperately flip it around on her.

…

Suddenly the world came to a standstill. She did it, she plunged the knife into my chest. I fell back onto the ground behind me as Thomas and Minho came running over, grabbing her as she desperately kicked and punched. The last thing I heard was her screaming my name.

"I love you."

"Hey, can we talk?" I walked over to Y/n, my long time best friend. It took me a lot of courage to walk over to her, I didn't know how she was going to take this considering she's probably the most sporadic, unpredictable person I know.

But she's brave when I'm scared, she's hot-headed when I'm calm and maybe that's what I love about her. She's everything that keeps me even and she means everything to me. Today's the day I decided I'll tell her how I feel.

"Of course! Have a seat." She said, patting the ground next to her. I sat down and plopped back on the thick tree stump with a heavy exhale. "You alrighty, Newtie?“ You asked with a laugh. God, he thought you were beautiful. Everything from your laugh tho your hair, to how you yelled at the boys to keep then in line. It was like you kept the whole glade together.

"I wanted to tell you something, something I've had on my mind for a while." She turned and looked at me questioningly. "I've felt something more towards you, like there was something else I felt towards you other than friendship. I value you more than anyone in this glade but I also deeply admire you. Your beauty, how you're so eager to help out, how you always compliment Fry's mediocre cooking without fail." She let out a laugh as her cheeks flushed. "Are you trying to say you like me?"

I stumbled trying to find the right words when I suppose a yes would have done fine. She leaned in and brushed her hand across my cheek before her lips met mine. I completely froze, and she pulled away when she realized I wasn't kissing back.

"I'm so sorry, I thou-"

I wrapped my hands around the back of her neck and pulled her in for another kiss, this time deeper, more meaningful.

"Wake up!" A tall, big man in full armor shouted at me over the loud horn of a..

boat?

"Where the bloody hell am I?" I said, trying to sit up and immediately doubling over from the pain in my chest. "What the-?"

"Man, your lucky we got there when we did, you were bleeding out like crazy, can't believe that knife missed your heart." Oh no. Oh no no no no. I can't be here, I need to leave before-

I lifted up my shirtsleeve to find nothing on my arm, no virus in my veins. How is this even possible?

The events of that day flooded back to me, that one line repeating over and over again.

"You're the cure. It's in your blood."

During the fight her blood entered my bloodstream, the blood that would cure me. It's because of her, the girl I begged to kill me that night was the reason I'm still standing.

"Welcome to Paradise." I looked over from the edge of the boat to see a beautiful island. Sure it wasn't much, but there was people everywhere, some laughing and dancing, some getting food, and some making a bonfire. I prayed that Y/n had made it here, if anything she deserved to be here and not me.

"Do you know if a Y/n got here?" He thought about it for a moment. "Nah man, sorry. I don't know much about the people here. But what I do know, is that you're very lucky to be here. We found you half cranked out in the middle of the city, so if it wasn't for my crew I would have left your sorry ass."

The boat docked and the first thing on my mind was to find Y/n. If there was one thing I knew, it was that I desperately needed a shower. My tour guide took me to a disinfectant room, he gave me a change and I showered, probably the best treatment I've had in a very long time.

The sun never really showed since I got here, the island in a constant gray haze. I got led around to get a feel for the island, but everything felt unfamiliar, from the island down to the people. I passed dozens of faces, each either looked at me like there was sometimes wrong with me, or glanced and moved on. I prayed to see a familiar face. I prayed to see her face.

"Newt?"

I whipped my head around.

"Y/n?" My heart dropped. The memories from that night flooded in. Her tear covered face flashed my memory as she plunged that knife into my chest. How could she ever forgive me for what I did to her that night? I took a step forward and she staggered back.

"Is it really you?" Her voice was small, tears started filling her eyes. I nodded, tears filling my own as she ran into my arms. "I can't believe it's you!" She sobbed into my chest, being careful to avoid my injury. She pulled away and looked into my eyes. "How is this even possible?" She sniffled.

"You, love. You were my cure."

---

hope you enjoyed my first newt fic! little angsty but it all works out

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#tmr newt #newt x reader #tmr thomas #tmr minho #the death cure #the scorch trials #newt #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner #the maze runner preferences #tmr x reader #fanfic #fanfic request #tmr newt x reader #tmr newt imagine

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babyflorencee · 1 month ago

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Stockholm Syndrome

Part seven: When Fear Meets Desire

Links: MASTERLIST | Part eight

Harry Styles x fem!Reader

The cool water from the shower had washed away the heaviness, but my mind was still tangled in confusion. I stood in the guest bedroom, staring at the untouched bed, its stark white sheets folded too neatly, too impersonal. The silence pressed down on me, thick and stifling, like a fog I couldn’t quite shake. I was too awake, too restless to sleep. There were too many emotions that churned inside of me.

I wanted to be close to him.

Harry’s voice, gentle and warm, played in my head. "You make my world brighter, love." It felt real. I wanted it to be real, even though I still couldn't reconcile the part of me that remembered how he'd taken me, stolen me from everyone and everything that I once knew.

The part of me that should hate him collided with the part that ached for him. But here, in this house, surrounded by the soft scent of his cologne and the quiet that settled like a balm, everything felt like a dream. A dangerous dream, but a dream nonetheless. A dream I didn't want to wake up from.

I couldn't stay in that guest bedroom. I didn't want to stay there. Not tonight.

I slipped into a pair of loose sweats and a t-shirt that Harry had left for me and I left the bedroom, my bare feet padding softly against the cold oak floors. I wasn’t exactly sure what I was doing or where I was even going—only that I needed to find him. His presence was magnetic, a force I couldn’t resist even if I wanted to. The house felt different now, softer. The walls no longer felt like they were closing in on me. But I was still scared—scared of what he might think, scared of what this would mean for me. What if he was only being kind because he felt responsible for me? What if I was just a broken thing to him, just a puzzle he could fix? Just a challenge?

I wandered down the hallway, my steps faltering, uncertainty settling in my chest. The walls were painted a deep slate gray, interrupted only by sporadic art—a mix of abstract splashes of color and serene black-and-white landscapes. Everything about the space was sharp and clean, like Harry had designed it to keep people at a distance. Yet there were hints of softness: a folded throw draped over a chair in the corner, a candle flickering faintly on a side table.The house felt vast in its silence. How was I supposed to find him? I couldn’t remember the exact layout of the house, and the hallways seemed endless. Was this how it would feel every time I tried to get close to him? Lost?

I reached another hallway, and I paused, unsure which direction to go. The quiet of the house pressed down on me, thick and suffocating. I needed to find him. I couldn’t stay away. My heart wouldn’t let me.

Taking a deep breath, I started down the hall to the left, moving cautiously, hoping to stumble across some familiar sign of him—his scent, his warmth, anything. But every door I opened was wrong. A laundry room, a bathroom, a closet. Nothing that told me where he might be. Nothing that felt like him.

Why is this house so impossible to navigate?

But it wasn’t just the house. It was him. Harry was a maze of contradictions—dark and tender, cruel and kind. Every time I tried to pin down what I felt for him, it seemed to slip right through my fingers.

I reached another hallway and stopped in front of a closed door. My heart skipped in my chest. I was too far in now to turn back. I pushed the door open with shaking hands, only to be met with a small, unused guest room.

Frustration built within me as I turned down yet another hall, my breath shallow. Why was it so hard to find him? Maybe my brain was still fogged. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be here, wandering through this house like some unwanted intruder.

Then, in the distance, I heard the faint sound of the television. The soft hum of it floated through the air, guiding me. to his room. I just had to follow the sound.

I hurried down the next hall, relieved when I saw an open door at the far end. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him lying on his bed, half-turned toward the TV. His dark hair, messy and unruly, which framed his face in a way that made him look so impossibly handsome, even in the blue glow of the television screen.

I froze in the doorway, uncertain whether to step inside. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest, the anxiety of what I was doing bubbling up. He looked so peaceful, so at ease. I didn’t want to disturb him, but the longing in me was so strong that I couldn't bare another second without being wrapped up in his arms.

I hesitated for a moment, my hand poised above the doorknob.

Then I knocked softly on the doorframe.

It was stupid. The door was already open, but something inside me wanted to be sure, to have a reason for stepping into his space. To have him invite me in, just like he had done earlier, when he’d reached for my hand and led me upstairs. I needed to know that he wanted me here, with him.

His eyes met mine as soon as I knocked, and the confusion that flickered in them made my chest tighten. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice thick with concern. He set the remote down, pausing whatever show he was watching. The tension between us, the space we hadn’t crossed yet, was palpable. I stood there, almost ashamed of the way my heart was racing.

“I…” My words trailed off, unsure of how to even begin. I could feel the weight of my heart pressing down on me. What was I doing? I wanted to stay with him, I wanted to feel his warmth, but my mind was still shouting at me, telling me I shouldn’t. He was the man who had taken me, locked me in this house, and yet here I was, standing in his doorway, wanting nothing more than to lie next to him.

“I just… I want to be with you,” I said quietly, my voice trembling.

Harry’s eyes softened, his confusion turning into something else. Something warm, maybe even a little surprised. His lips parted as if to speak, but instead, he reached over and patted the side of the bed, as if telling me to come closer.

“You can stay with me,” he said, his voice like the slow, steady rhythm of a song you didn’t know you needed. “Come here.”

“Are you sure?” I asked softly, my voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No,” Harry said quickly, his voice filled with assurance. “You’re not disturbing me. Remember what I said earlier? I want you here.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. I walked in, my steps uncertain but my desire undeniable. The moment I climbed into the bed, Harry shifted, moving over to the other side. He didn’t say anything, just made room for me, his eyes inviting me in without hesitation. And in that moment, everything inside me screamed that this was right, that this was where I needed to be. That this is where I should be.

I crawled under the covers, the warmth of his body still a mystery to me, but I didn’t question it. The blankets settled around me like a soft embrace as he pulled me into his chest, his arms wrapping around me with a tenderness that made my breath hitch. I could feel his heartbeat against my cheek, steady and sure, and it made my thoughts blur.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice barely a whisper against my ear.

I nodded, my body relaxing against his, finally allowing myself to believe that this was real, that we were real. I could hear the steady beat of his heart, the quiet hum of his breath.

"I don’t know what I'm doing," I whispered, “You... you kidnapped me. I shouldn't want to be anywhere near you. And yet, every time we're apart I need you near me. And Harry that scares me.”

Harry’s arms tightened around me, the warmth of his embrace grounding me as I poured out my messed up thoughts. I felt the vulnerability of my confession, feeling raw and exposed. He was quiet for a moment, the room heavy with the words I had just spoken. Then, his voice broke the silence, low and full of something I couldn’t quite place—regret, understanding, or maybe something even deeper.

His arms tightened around me, his warmth seeping into my skin.“I never wanted to hurt you,” he said softly, his voice laced with regret. “I know I’ve done terrible things. Things I can’t take back. And I’ll live with that for the rest of my life. But you… you’re the one thing I never expected. The one thing I didn’t think I deserved. I never thought that I could feel this way about anyone. Not after everything, not after the life I’ve led. And yet, here you are, pulling me in. You’ve got a hold on my heart that I can’t break free from.”

I looked up at him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. “Why did you take me?”

His gaze faltered, his fingers brushing absently against my arm. “Because I was a coward. Because I thought I could control everything, even my own feelings. But I was wrong. I was so wrong. And now…” He trailed off, his voice breaking slightly. “Now, I just want to be the person you feel safe with. The person you can trust.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling over me. “I don’t know if I can trust you yet,” I admitted.

He nodded, his jaw tightening. “I don’t blame you. But I’ll prove it to you, every day, if you let me. I’ll do whatever it takes to make this right.”

I reached for his hand, intertwining my fingers with his. “I don’t know how to let you in,” I whispered. “But I want to try. I don’t want to be scared of you anymore.”

His eyes softened, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. “Then that’s enough for me. For now, that’s enough. But I need you to know that I’ve never felt anything like this. And I’m not going to pretend I know how to fix everything I've done, but I’ll be damned if I let you go. I want you here. More than I've ever wanted anything in my life”

I could feel the truth in his words, even if the shadows of doubt still lingered in my chest. I wanted to believe him. But the pieces of who he was—the part of him that had taken me, that had kept me locked away—still haunted me. His arms around me felt safe, but my mind screamed in protest. What if it wasn’t real? What if, one day, everything would break again?

“I want to trust you, but I don't know if I can.” I whispered, my voice barely audible as my heart raced against the tide of fear.

He exhaled softly, like my words were a blow to him. But he didn’t pull away. Instead, he gently cupped my face in his hands, his gaze so intense, filled with something I couldn’t quite define.

“Then don’t trust me yet,” Harry said quietly, his voice laced with vulnerability. “But don’t pull away from me either. Stay here, with me, just for tonight. Let me show you that I’m not the monster you think I am. I’m not asking you to forget what I've done to you. But I’ll prove to you, one day at a time, that you don’t have to be afraid of me.”

I looked up at him, his eyes were so full of sincerity, but there was something else there too—fear. Fear that I might pull away. Fear that I might never forgive him. But as his words lingered in the air, I could feel myself wavering, torn between the raw truth of what he said and the deep fear that still held me captive. But the way he held me, the way he looked at me, made it harder to resist. And maybe… just maybe… there was a part of me that still wanted to believe him.

“I'm scared of what I'm feeling for you,” I admitted, the truth slipping out of me. "I know I shouldn't feel this way towards you, but I do. And I don't want these feelings to go away. I don't want you to go away."

Harry’s face softened, and he tightened his grip around me, pulling me closer, his lips brushing my hair as he spoke. “I promise I'm not going anywhere.”

He leaned down slightly, his lips grazing my own "You're all I need, love. That's the truth. I just want you to feel comfortable in here."

"I think I'm starting to be," I said, surprised at how true it felt.

He pulled back slightly to look at me, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. “What do you mean by that? That you’re starting to be?” His voice was soft, like he was afraid of pushing too hard.

I closed my eyes, thinking for a moment. “I mean… I don’t know how to explain it. I feel safe with you right now, even when everything inside me says I shouldn’t. I don’t know how that makes sense, but it’s the truth.”

Harry's eyes flickered with something like relief, though there was a trace of sadness in them too. He kissed the top of my head, his voice low. "I’ve never wanted anything more than for you to feel at home here. Even if it’s just for tonight."

I nodded, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions spinning in my chest. "Okay," I whispered, nestling back into his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart slow my thoughts.

"Y/n?" His voice was low, almost hesitant, as his fingers tangled gently in my hair, each movement deliberate and tender.

"Yeah?" I whispered, lifting my head from his chest, the warmth of his skin still lingering against my cheek.

"Can I kiss you?"

His question hung in the air, thick with anticipation. My breath caught, and I couldn’t bring myself to respond with words. Instead, I nodded, the movement small and uncertain.

He didn’t hesitate for long. In a heartbeat, he leaned in, his lips hovering just over mine. The faintest brush of his breath sent a shiver down my spine, and for a moment, it felt as though the world had gone completely still. There was hesitation in his touch, as though he was giving me one last chance to pull away.

But I didn’t.

His hand slid from my hair to the back of my neck, the touch firm but not rough, grounding me as he closed the distance. When his lips finally met mine, the kiss was forceful, almost desperate, as if he’d been holding back for far too long. Yet beneath the intensity, there was something more—a tenderness that made my chest ache.

When we finally pulled apart, our breaths mingled in the quiet space between us. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward or heavy. Instead, it wrapped around us in a warm embrace. Almost like it was shielding us from the chaos of everything around us. His forehead rested lightly against mine, and I closed my eyes, savoring the moment, the warmth of his presence, and the unspoken words that lingered in the quietness.

“What do you think of when you look at me?” he asked suddenly, his voice hesitant.

I opened my eyes. So I could stare into his green eyes. "What do you mean?" I whispered, unsure of where this conversation was going.

He let out a sigh, his eyes flickering with uncertainty. "I know who I am. But who do you see? What’s in your head when you look at me?"

My heart softened as I looked at him—at the man who had kidnapped me, yes, but also the man who had stayed with me through all the pain, the man who held me when I needed him.

"I see someone who is trying," I said carefully. "Someone who is afraid, just like me. But trying. I see someone who wants to make things better, even if it doesn’t always make sense. And I… I see someone who feels real to me, in a way I can’t explain."

Harry’s smile softened as he pulled me closer, one of his hands resting gently on my back, as the other softly pulled my head back to his chest, his lips brushing my hair as he spoke. "You’re the only thing that feels real to me right now," he whispered. "And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you."

In that moment, the world outside felt distant, fading into nothingness as I listened to the rhythm of his breathing, the calm in his presence.

“I’ve never had someone care about me like this,” I said, my voice small, barely a whisper against his chest. “You don’t know what it means to me.”

Harry’s fingers traced circles on my back, slow and steady, as if he were trying to convey something with each movement. “It means everything to me too. You mean everything to me.”

And for a moment, I allowed myself to believe it. That despite everything—despite the twisted path that had led me to him—maybe this was where I belonged. Maybe love could still exist, even in the darkest of places.

“I’m sorry for all the ways I hurt you,” Harry added, his voice full of regret. "But I’ll spend every day making it up to you. I promise."

I smiled softly, a quiet peace settling over me as I pressed my lips against his chest. "You don’t have to promise anything. I’m here. And for tonight, that’s enough."

And as we lay together in the dark, the quiet of the room wrapping around us, I allowed myself to believe—just for tonight—that maybe we could find a way forward. Together. it felt like a beginning. A messy, beautiful, uncertain beginning—but a beginning nonetheless.

***

The sunlight poured into the bedroom through a crack in the heavy curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow. The air was warm, tinged with the faint scent of Harry's cologne. I blinked my eyes open slowly, the soft rhythm of his heartbeat against my ear was the first thing I registered. His arms were wrapped tightly around me, his warmth feeling like a blanket.

“Good morning,” Harry’s voice rumbled against my hair, low and hoarse with sleep. I tilted my head up to meet his gaze. His green eyes, sparkling even in the dim light.

“Morning,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, as though speaking louder might shatter this moment. His hand drifted lazily up and down my back, his fingers tracing patterns over the fabric of my borrowed t-shirt. It sent shivers down my spine, even though his touch was as gentle as a feather.

“You slept in,” he teased, his lips quirking up in a soft smile. “I like it. Means I get to keep you in here longer.”

I rolled my eyes, though I couldn’t stop the small laugh that escaped my lips. “I can’t stay in bed all day, Harry.”

“Yes, you can,” he countered quickly, his arms tightening around me as though he could physically stop me from moving. “In fact, I insist.”

“Harry,” I groaned, but there was no real protest in my tone. “We can’t just do nothing all day.”

“But we absolutely can,” he argued, his voice dipping into a playful whine. “Come on, love. Stay here. Stay with me. Please.”

I tried to push myself up, but his arms only tightened more, pulling me back down against his chest. His lips found the top of my head, then my temple, then the corner of my mouth, leaving a trail of soft kisses that made me melt.

“Harry,” I said again, this time more softly, the sound catching in my throat.

“Please,” he murmured against my skin, his breath warm and enticing. “Just a little longer. I need you here right now. Don’t go just yet.”

My heart squeezed at his words, at the raw vulnerability in his voice. He wasn’t demanding; he was pleading, as though letting me go might break something inside of him. And I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. Not when he looked at me like that, like I was the only thing in this world.

“Okay,” I relented, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll stay.”

The smile that spread across his face was instant and radiant, like when the sun breaks through the clouds. He pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my forehead in a kiss so soft it made my chest ache.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice so quiet I almost didn’t hear it. His hand came up to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing softly over my skin. “You’ve no idea how much it means to me, having you here. Waking up next to you.”

My cheeks warmed under his gaze, and I buried my face in his chest to hide the blush I knew was creeping up my neck. His laughter rumbled against me, deep and affectionate.

“You’re adorable when you blush,” he teased, his fingers threading through my hair.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, though I couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at my lips.

Harry shifted slightly, leaning back against the pillows and pulling me with him until I was half-draped across his chest. His hands never stopped moving, one trailing up and down my spine while the other tangled in my hair. It was calming, grounding, and I felt myself relaxing more with each passing moment.

“You’re too good to me,” he said suddenly, his voice soft but laced with an undercurrent of emotion. “I don’t deserve this. Don’t deserve you.”

I lifted my head to look at him, my brows furrowing at the sadness that flickered in his eyes. “Don’t say that,” I murmured, reaching up to cup his face. “Don’t ever say that again. You mean so much to me, Harry. More than I can even put into words.”

His gaze searched mine, as though trying to find the truth in my words. Then, without warning, he leaned in and kissed me. It wasn’t like the kiss from the night before—this one was slower, softer, yet intense. His lips moved against mine with a tenderness that made my heart ache, as though he was pouring all of his feelings into our kiss.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against mine, his eyes fluttering closed. “I’m never letting you go,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “You’re mine, Y/N. You always will be.”

I didn’t respond with words; I didn’t need to. Instead, I leaned up to kiss him again. For now, in this moment, everything else could wait. The world outside could wait. All that mattered was the warmth of his arms around me and the steady beat of his heart against mine.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles fanfic #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n

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thisreadswhatever · 1 year ago

Text

Only Mine: Part Two

find part one here

[description]: jax teller x fem!reader

[wordcount]: 2.2k

[cw]: 18+ only, smut, smut and more smut. unprotected p in v sex, oral m receiving, some almost getting caught tropes (kinda) and just jax having his way with you

[authors note]: so I wasn’t planning on making this a two part series but here we are! this is basically just pure smut but I owed it to you guys after that cliffhanger. thank you again to THAT anon for the fantasy that inspired this second part! it was too good not to write.

Your hands dug into the front of his leather cutte, weaving your fingers in between the cotton of his shirt. The only sound was the roaring of the bike beneath you, and the wind as it thrashed your hair into chaos against your helmet. You weren’t sure where you were going, but at this point you didn’t care. You squeezed your arms as they wrapped snug around him, tightening as he sped faster into the unknown.

Chibs followed just behind. They had been on their way to a Mayan warehouse earlier that night, before Jax decided to make a detour when he saw your car parked at the bar. When it was clear they had to go, you had begged Jax to bring you along. To your surprise, you had somehow convinced him. His dick was clouding his judgement, but you were both desperate to find an end to what you had started in the backseat of your car.

They parked the bikes in the back of a desolate warehouse, alongside a large empty truck. The building was fenced in with metal chain links and surrounded by broken security lights. From what you could see through the darkness, it was completely deserted.

Jax approached Chib as he rocked the kickstand on his bike as you waited patiently alongside his.

“Bobby and Juice on their way to the Clubhouse?”

Chib’s placed his helmet on the bike, “aye. Everything according to plan.”

“Alright, let’s get this done.”

Chibs placed his hand on Jax’s chest, “ye sure about bringing her? Could be here awhile pal.”

He knew he was right, bringing you with them wasn’t the smartest decision Jax had made tonight. He lit a cigarette between his lips as he walked back to you, “Just a straight forward drop off, Chibs. Stash the shit and get in the truck.”

Jax pulled you into him by the waist as you fumbled to undo the clasp of your helmet. His mouth pressed firmly against you, kissing you intently as his hands held your face to his. He watched you for a brief moment under him, your eyes staring up at him as he held your lip between his teeth. He broke only to smile widely down at you as he spoke, “c’mon, I got an idea.”

“We’ll be inside.” he called out, collecting a black satchel from the back of his bike. Chibs didn’t respond, only chuckling to himself as he watched Jax lead you away. “Kids.”

He pulled you through the warehouse by hand, obviously familiar with the surroundings. The building was dimly lit by a single light that shined from the entrance, just enough that you could see your feet beneath you as you walked.

You didn’t ask questions, just followed as he weaved his way through a thick maze of tall empty shelving units. He gripped your hand tighter as he pulled you into a small room cordoned off in the back of the building, housing the now derelict security unit and remnants of old office supplies.

There was a large display window that overlooked the majority of the warehouse, which would’ve been used to watch the ongoings of the building when it was up and running.

“Wait here.”

You obeyed his order, sitting on an old computer console that towered from the floor. It was just large enough that you could sit with your legs bent alongside it, straddling it beneath you.

The distant light was too far to aid in your sight as you attempted to watch him through the display window. Jax disappeared into the darkness of the warehouse. You could hear the sound of a door opening and closing from the opposite end of the building.

It felt like he was gone for eternity as you sat in silence, waiting for his return.

Suddenly an external door into the office opened, making you jump, and Jax re-entered, this time empty handed as the satchel he carried in with him was gone. He locked the door behind him. He moved toward you, now standing with his waistline parallel to your face. He was looking out into the warehouse from the side of the display window. “Just gotta wait for the pick up and then we’re out of here.”

“How long will we be? This place gives me the creeps.”

“Shouldn’t be long. Then I’m taking you home. We got unfinished buisness of our own, darlin’.”

Jax laid his hands to your cheeks, cupping your face upward to look at him. His thumb stroked your skin gently, as he peered down at you with hungry, desperate eyes.

“How ‘bout you just swallow my cock now to pass the time.”

You chuckled at his adavance, raising your eyebrows at the suggestion. “Here? What if someone comes in?”

Jax lowered himself down, forcing your head to turn on its side, as his lips pressed to your ear. He spoke slowly, unravelling you with every word. “Let them watch. I don’t give a shit. Your instructions earlier were very clear darlin’, you told me to take what’s mine. I’m going to take you, here and now. I’m going to have you where I want you, when I want you. You are mine to take, however the fuck I want.”

You nodded as he turned your face to his, your eyelids batting against your cheeks that were smushed beneath his hands. His thumb found entry between your lips and you instinctively opened your mouth wide for him. He smiled contently at how quickly you obeyed his silent demand. You held your tongue out, and he grasped at your jaw in response, turning your head side to side as he observed every inch of your face. “You are so fucking perfect. So fucking mine.”

You had never wanted him more than you did in this moment. You were prepared to beg and plead on your knees for his cock, you would do anything for it, and he knew it.

“Fill my mouth, Jax. Please.”

He leaned down to you as he unclamped the buckle to his belt, smirking against your lips as he placed them on yours.

He released his long length against your face, and you immediately took it into your hands. His head fell back as you stroked him intently, pressing the tip of his cock against your lips. You planted small, wet kisses against his shaft, as your hands caressed his erection. Once you’d kissed every inch, you took him into your mouth, forcing him in deeper as you pulled him in you by his unbuttoned jeans.

He groaned at the sensation of your wet tongue, circling his length before you choked at the fullness of him inside your mouth. There was nothing quite like gagging on Jax’s cock.

“Look at me when you take me”, he demanded. Your eyes trailed up to him as you swallowed his cock, drool dripping from your chin and down your neck. Moans escaped his gritted teeth and his hands entangled in your hair, collecting the strands into a ponytail behind your head. He tugged at the root to push you in closer, as he used your mouth over and over again.

“Get on the floor.”

You knew better than to question the order. You did exactly what he said, laying against the cold concrete floor that laid beneath you. He stroked his length as he stood above you, instructing you on every move to make.

“Take off your shirt and lay down.”

Once you were half naked on the floor, Jax lowered himself into you. His cock pressed against your waist, as he pulled down your jeans and panties.

“Spread your legs wide for me.”

Jax didn’t wait any longer. He encapsulated himself into your mound, opening your wet folds as he thrusted into you. A gasp escaped your throat as he entered, relief filtering through every inch of your core.

“Oh you’re still fucking soaked for me, babe.”

You couldn’t help but whine at the immediate pressure building between your thighs, desperately trying to hush your voice. It was near impossible to keep from screaming as the heat from your groin was burning to be released. You’d waited for what felt like forever since Jax had you in the same position in the backseat of your car, and the anticipation of being relieved was a feeling you revelled in. He grabbed your throat with his hand as you laid beneath him, your ass crushing repeatedly into the cold tile as he pounded into you.

“Remember what I told you earlier? While my face was covered in this perfect pussy?”

You couldn’t respond, let alone think of anything that happened earlier tonight. You groaned out as the length of his cock engulfed your insides, and hearing him talk this way was sending you over the edge. How the hell were you supposed to think?

“What’s wrong, darlin’? Can’t remember?”

“I can’t think straight- like t-this, Jax,” you admitted. You were staring into his eyes as he pounded into you, fighting the need for yours to roll in the back of your head.

“Let me help you.”

He sat you upright, his dick still embedded in your mound, as he lifted your legs, bending them against him. He pulled at your ass, bringing himself even further inside, the feeling of fullness overwhelming you. Your back was now arched against him, giving him full access to your clit.

“Fuck- not helping-“, you cried.

His hands travelled from your ass to your cunt, circling his fingers over the swollen nub, while he fucked you into oblivion.

“Jax- oh my go-“

He smiled as he watched you lose yourself in your climax, succumbing to his cock. His head fell back in pure bliss as he felt your orgasm squeezing him.

“I told you, you’re mine.” His cock pushed further into you as his hand tightening around your neck, the skin turning a shade of red at the force.

Your head nodded violently, “I’m yours-“ you somehow managed to muster out, your voice cracking under the pressure of your orgasm and his hand around your throat.

Just as Jax was going to unravel with you, you were interrupted by the sound of the main entrance door opening, followed by footsteps. “Did you hear that?”, you whispered.

Jax leant backward enough for him to peer over the display window. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness to realise who the intruders were. It was Bobby and Juice.

“Is it Chibs? Do we need to go?”

Jax looked back down at you, sprawled half naked against the floor and completely, totally his. Seeing you this way, he couldn’t of cared who entered the warehouse, he was going to finish claiming you no matter who watched. He gleamed at the sight of your flushed pink cheeks and hair utterly strung awry, all the result of his doing. “Oh no, darlin’. I’m not finished with you yet.”

His cock found your entrance again, sliding into your dripping mound as he bit back a groan. “You feel so fucking good- taking me so well-“

You tried desperately to suppress your scream, failing as a squeal slipped through your lips.

Jax quickly placed his hand over your mouth, and you were thankful for the aid in silencing your whimpers. He roamed over your body and face, watching as pleas left your eyes, begging in desperation for another release. His lips pulled into a devilish smirk as he lowered himself completely into you, forcing his cock to push even deeper into your mound.

You groaned into his hand, his hips finding a way to submerge even further into your core. Jax was enjoying every moment of this, watching as your composure expired around his cock, while he never wavered, just holding himself there within you.

“You gotta be quiet for me now, darlin’,” he murmured slowly into your ear. “Can you do that for me?”

You nodded at his request, struggling to move from the weight of his body pressing against you. His hand tightened around your mouth as tears began to stream from your eyes, overwhelmed by the urge to stay silent against the extreme fullness you were enduring.

The footsteps grew closer, as Jax pushed deeper and deeper into you with each thrust.

You could hear Bobby lowly calling out, “Jax, where you at?”

He ignored his calls, focused entirely on you beneath him. Nothing else mattered to him but the way you felt wrapped around his cock.

He was relentless, repeatedly finding a new depth with each thrust into you. His hand stayed out against your mouth, and you bit at the skin to suppress the groans that couldn’t be muffled. He quickened his pace, and your fingers squeezed at the leather of his cutte as you found your final climax. Jax hunched his back, bringing his face to yours as he found his release with you, filling your aching cunt with his seed.

When he recovered from his end, he began to trail plentiful kisses from your chest, and up your neck. He paused at your jawline as he pressed a tight smile against your skin, nibbling at the flesh.

“You’re only mine.”

find my masterlist here

#jax teller #jax teller x reader #jax teller x you #jax teller fiction #jax teller smut #reads writes #sons of anarchy #soa #sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #jax teller morrow #jax teller fic #jax teller boyfriend #jax x reader #jax teller imagine #jax teller dom #sons of anarchy smut #sons of anarchy one shot

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pursuitseternal · 2 months ago

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✨⚡️ “Magical” ✨⚡️

Act 3 UA Astarion x f!Reader | E | 2.6 K

🎨 by @marimosalad | A gift for @nyx-knox 🎈

Summary: Lost in the vault of Sorcerers’ Sundries, you and your Vampire are trapped, not just in the maze of rooms, but by your many unspoken feelings. It’s time to get free

CW: Implied break up with Gale, act 3 romance AU, Yearning and pining and feelings oh my, unrequited love, angst with a happy ending, biting feeding, first time as a couple, vaginal sex, creampie

Ao3 Link | Astarion Fic Masterlist

“Fucking hells, we’ve been here before!” that usual silken voice cracks with pissed off frustration.

Not that you blame him. Every room in this vault looks the fucking same. Sorcerers’ Sundries. Of course every g would be magically complicated.

“It might be…” you waver in your confidence. “Ugh, if only Gale hadn’t hurried ahead,” it pains you to say, to even mention your… well, your former lover.

“It’s his fucking fault we are in this mess,” Astarion huffs, cocking his hips as he scans the room. You can tell, it’s a forced air of calm. A thin veneer of that charm and fuck-all attitude you have grown increasingly dependent upon, especially with your mending heart.

Gale’s blind pursuit of ambition, of showing Mystra he was, in fact, worthy, had grown too much for your relationship to bear. So, days ago, you had ended it. Even still, you had to take him here to find the Annals of Karsus. At least Astarion had volunteered to stay by your side. His carefree approach to his problems had soothed your nerves… until you had learned more about his past, those details that had slipped past you, back when Gale had been your world. The vampire’s hunger, his suffering, his Master, his scars… his abuse.

And then, last night, his so-called siblings had come in the night. You won’t ever forget the way you woke to find Astarion prowling between you and their glowing red eyes. Protecting you. It was after fighting them off that something had… shifted in your companionship.

Since then, he had been your shadow, never more than a step away from you. Those crimson eyes always keeping you in their sights, or at least his periphery. And then, once the party got split in this labyrinthine mess of doors and trapped rooms, you were immeasurably thankful for his vigilance.

But it still means you are now lost in a room of glowing walls and identical doors.

Astarion snarls, fangs bared. “Why can’t I just stab something and get us out of here!” He is exasperated, and perhaps a bit… trapped.

You see it in the way his neck muscles strain, the way his chest rises and falls faster even if he doesn’t need to breathe.

“Astarion,” you speak softly, your voices bouncing strangely around in the glowing walls. You can feel the very foundations of this vault built with magic, it’s in the air, in your lungs, and in your fingers. Made from the Weave itself. It calls to your sorcery, your magic.

He looks… almost helpless, those wide wet eyes that scan the glowing walls, the sweat that clings to his face.

“Astarion, speak to me,” you say gently. “It’s alright, we will find our way out, get back to the others.”

Astarion rounds on you, chest heaving as something snaps into place… or is it out of place. “Yes I’m sure you’re most eager to get back to the others… some unfulfilled need to yet prove yourself to Gale, darling? Hearts are far more fragile than necks,” he sneers, walking into the next room through a random door. You, heart aching at the accusation and mention of your old flame, hurry after him.

It’s a large, octangular room, a chest on one side, display cases all around, shelves of scrolls all just waiting to be looted. But Astarion freezes, eyes vacant as he looks in disbelief. “I really thought this was the way back… that we’d get out of this maze from the hells…”

“Astarion, what’s wrong?” You speak softly, drawing up and touching his arm. “Maybe…. Would blood help?” you ask, quivering on the inside and shaking on the out as you pull at the forest green collar of your shirt. “Tell me how to help you,” you watch as his crimson gaze darts over you until they look into your eyes. Then, he settles on your vein, and you can almost hear him counting your heartbeats without the tadpole connecting your brains.

You laugh gently. “It’s been a few nights since you asked or I offered to feed you…”

“I mean… I didn’t want to intrude. You’ve had a lot going on,” his voice sounds dry, his jaw clenching as you know he fights the hunger he struggles with daily.

“And you haven’t?” You tease, gently and carefully making mention of the night's events. “What I went through pales in comparison. Gale and I,” you give an aggrieved sigh. “I only wish I hadn’t given him as much as I did just to get him to see that he doesn’t need this crown, he doesn’t need to defy Mystra when he has me.” You pause, chewing your lip. “Had… me.”

You look into his face, those firm lines don’t smile, his gaze is guarded and… for once you see his mouth still. He’s listening carefully, not quipping or flirting or smiling.

“I’m… I’m glad to be done with Gale in that way. Now I can just take my heart out of the mess and help him find this book.” You chew your lip again, those scarlet eyes darting from your gaze the instant your mouth worries on itself to watch.

But you keep talking. “Your strife is so much bigger, lest we forget that your siblings made a mess in our rooms… I’m glad we could stave them off and…” you keep biting your lip, dropping your gaze to the weird glowing pink floor, hesitating to say the next thing on your mind, “you told me about what it was like for you as his spawn… about that year you spent in the coffin. It’s no wonder you’re a bit frantic in here, feeling trapped…”

You feel cool air on your neck first, his body drawing up behind you. Lips press on your vein then suck it to the surface. “I think I will indulge if you offered,” he says the words so quickly, it’s hard to make them out.

There is then, the icy breaking of your skin as he bites. A gasp slips from your lips, and you’re almost dead certain his bite is harder this time just to shut you up.

But it doesn’t matter. Not the way your body instantly shivers with repressed pleasure as his lips pull your crimson, as his hands grip your shoulders back against him so you don’t squirm out of reach.

“Darling,” he breathes, and that familiar moniker sounds more… pleading. “I’ve been trapped for longer than you’ve seen…” You feel his hands tighten on your arms for a moment, then loosen… then roam up and down them.

You know he can taste it, hear it. The way your heart just jumped into your throat and the way your belly just lurched like you almost fell headlong over a cliff.

“T-trapped?” you clench your hands to keep them from shaking.

“Oh yes, and it’s your fault, you know,” his lips lift from your wounds to press bloodied kisses along your shoulder. “I’ve watched you and the wizard, my eyes following your every move, as your eyes followed his. I watched as your magics wove together, only to sunder apart now. At first, I didn’t care…”

He trailed off, moving his mouth to caress your other shoulder, nipping, not biting, the sensitive places near your short-pointed ear.

“But the more you still cared for me, even though you and I were not…”

“Romantic?” You guess.

“Fucking,” he corrects with a slow, deep-bellied chuckle.

That word makes your body jolt out of control again, your own magic almost sizzling in your veins.

His laughter crescendo. “So, you see, I’ve been trapped for a long while now. Watching you… waiting for you to care just a little more. Waiting for you to see yourself as worth more than being the next-best-thing that wizard could hope for. You’re too good for that, too powerful for that.”

Gripping your waist, he spins you, and the hunger in his eyes makes you shiver, even as your blood is smeared from feeding. “Do… you still feel trapped?” you whisper, voice rough in your throat. As your gaze darts to his red and sticky lips. You wonder how you taste…

“Do you? Feel trapped that is?” he purrs down at you, hands winding to your back to pull you flush against him.

“No, I feel free,” you swiftly reply, standing on your tippy toes to kiss those conceited lips. You taste metal, your blood is sticky and a bit sweet, but he barely lets the taste register before his tongue floods your mouth with it. Those movements of his mouth are familiar, nearly the same that have fed on you nightly on the road, but now… now they are transcendent.

You move your lips to match his, your tongue dueling with him until your head grows light. Vampires don’t need to breathe, and he knows it. It’s dizzying the way he consumes you, fierce and demanding. Like a starved man at a banquet.

Light headed, your knees buckle, and instantly his hands lock firmly to support you, bracing you against his chest. His scent fills your nose; that heady scent swallows you whole. Crisp and bright and sensual. Just like him.

He lifts you, and you jump into his arms. That well-fed vampiric strength is now a personal boon, one you’re eager to take advantage of. Magic tingles down your spine as he presses you into a column, his face pulling away, breaking the kiss, and making you whine.

“Tell me you want this, darling,” he murmurs in sultry tones, those crimson eyes wide and pleading and brimming with unspoken feelings. “Tell me it’s not an illusion, that you also feel the mag—”

“If you say magic right now, I might bite you back,” you tease, his obvious humor and tawdry flirtation making you giggle.

Astarion just gives that rakish smirk as he shuts his mouth and grinds his hips against your sex.

You suddenly flush, head to toe, hot and thrumming with instant need. Your mind whirs, not recalling the last time you had been with Ga… anyone else… you push the thought from your mind.

“Darling, don’t wander from me in your thoughts. Just speak the magic words and I’m yours,” he drops his voice into his chest, into that purr that makes you wet, “and you’re all mine.” Thumb and finger, so cool and callused, tenderly pinches your chin and brings your mouth to his.

You nod furiously, tears in your eyes as his mouth moves on yours, a sensuous dance that leaves you breathless. He lifts you, cradling you as your bodies lower to the floor, the shining sparkles of magic feel like static on your back. You arch, and not because of the strange floor. The way his hips lower into yours, his arms wrap around you. He’s everywhere, the perfect crush of sinew and bone you had dreamed he would be when you weren’t lying to yourself about your heart. This was right… this was what you craved.

“My sweet, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this, wanted you,” he growls into your mouth. Then he lifts away, breathless and sweating, his flawless silver curls mussed over his forehead. “Typically, I pride myself on a long first conquest, lengthy sessions of… stimulation… and…”

“Shut up,” you laugh, “I don’t care if this last two minutes.” He swallows your giggle and girlish shrieks as he pulls down pants. “It’ll be the most magical two minutes of my life.”

Astsrion tugs into your waistband and something tears slightly as he pulls them confidently and zealously to your ankles. “I promise you, little love, I’ll last longer than two minutes…”

You reach to do the same for him, hand brushing the straining bulge in his leathers, making him hiss and whisper shockingly loudly.

“….Well maybe not much longer than two minutes.”

You giggle, freeing him from the fastened front. And your mouth salivates as your hand closes around it. You’d seen his cock before, accidentally or slightly on purpose. Smooth and flaccid but definitely beautiful. But now…

“Hells,” you groan, your fingers closing around it to feel just how smooth and veined and disgustingly hard it is.

“All yours, my sweet…” he chuckles, thrusting into your grip with the slightest push of his hips.

A wanton moan escapes you, unprepared as you are for that feeling.

It makes his smirk twist even more wickedly and only makes him thrust his hips again. Harder. With his eyes locked onto your face to watch the way yours flutter shut and your mouth part in another breathy moan. You open your eyes, and something seems to snap into place between you, his lips crash into yours, his hand gripping his cock at the base, teasing that flushed and leaking head against your folds.

Inch by sweet inch, he fills you, your breathing so quick and your eye so watery with unshed tears of bliss. It’s all consuming, the way you meld into one another. You glance between your thighs, watching where his cock enters you. In… and out… every little roll of his body as you adjust to the feeling of him makes your nerves burn with static and your blood race at a gallop. Mesmerized, you lose all sense of time as he takes you, fixated on the sight of you two becoming one.

With a growl, his control slips, and he picks up the pace, lowering his body to crush you again. Faster, he drives thrust after thrust, making your vision swim. Not that you can keep your eyes open, too afraid you’ll lose the feeling of him finally taking you. His lips press to your ear, rasping and husky as he speaks. “Hells, you’re perfect. Tight and warm… better than I’ve dreamed of it.”

His words alone push you to the brink. You feel it, or orgasm, faster and harder and more insistent than any you’ve ever felt before. The tightening of your belly and the blast of heat and wet that rages through you. You buck your hips, chasing it, catching the ridged head of his cock on your bundle of nerves just right.

You scream so loudly, you’re sure that these magic walls would crumble if they could. Back arching, voice breaking, you gush around him. And every thrust squelches loudly, even as they grow deeper and more erratic.

He lifts his head, those crimson eyes two pitch black centers as he growls a single worded question: “Where?”

Lust clouds your head, thoughts too scattered by the delicious drag of him inside you for it to make sense right away. So his hands squeeze your ass, your hip.

“Where?!” his voice breaks in desperation.

You answer, pulling him by his back to thrust into you deeper, harder, fuller. “Here,” you rasp.

The slacked-mouth smile on his face is burned forever in your memory as he lowers his head and pummels slower, more deliberate. He grunts, he gasps, louder and higher, the slightest whimper breaking from his throat as you feel him stutter and come inside you. It’s wet and full, the way he throbs with every pulse of his cum to flood you.

A few slower drags in your walls, and all you are is wet… and happy.

And whole.

He kisses you gently, plush lips sucking and working yours as he grins like a fool. “Dare I say… that was magical?”

You swat his arm, but laugh. For it was exactly that.

My lovely Nyx, thank you for trusting me your beloved Evelyn, for she’s my spawn girlie and a treasure to write for, implied reader 💛⚡️

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