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forzalando · 3 months ago

Text

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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marvelstoriesepic · 5 months ago

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Two

Pairing: College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Your friends Wanda and Nat drag you to a corn maze event at night. After a rather unpleasant encounter with Bucky, Sam, and Steve, you want nothing but this night to end. Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to find the exit first.

Word count: 6.2k 🌾 🎃 🔦

Warnings: Annoyance to lovers; scared!Reader; scare actor with chainsaw; scarecrows; protective!Bucky; little bit of sad!Bucky

Author’s note: This is me ignoring my wips and writing something that randomly popped up in my head. Wrote this all in one sitting but I’m actually genuinely happy with it :)

Masterlist

“We’re going to get lost in there.”

“With your sense of direction, definitely, but thankfully you have me.”

You shove Nat in the shoulder lightly enough, grumbling under your breath, while Wanda on your other side snickers softly.

The brunette links her arm with yours. “We’ll stay together the whole time,” she assures you.

“Well, I left my bed for this, so this better be good!”

Natasha and Wanda insisted on visiting the corn maze event your town had to offer this year. And since they claimed it would be boring to do this in daylight you now are standing in front of towering stalks of corn being so close together, they obscure the view inside. Sure, it would be way too easy otherwise but, the easier this is, the faster you’d be getting out of here.

There is a clear cut through the corn, signaling the entrance to the maze, but you can’t see past the artificial fog swirling in the tunnel so that’s no help either. The branches over the entrance have cobwebs dangling down and a scarecrow is placed right beside the hole, its eyes glowing red with unnatural light.

A few dimly lit jack-o-lanterns path the way to the foggy entrance, giving only enough light to make sure you wouldn’t catch on uneven ground and fall before anything even started. That would surely be embarrassing enough for the night.

You can make out faint whispers coming from inside the maze, unsure if those come from other visitors or if they are simply sound effects. Either way, you don’t like it. It’s not like you get scared easily. But there’s something about the dark that had always irked you and you don’t feel like getting jumped by some scare actor tonight or some other shit.

There are a few other people standing in groups around you three, talking to staff members, or looking at the map of the maze to somewhat prepare. You don’t pay them any mind though. There is no way you’d be socializing tonight.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Nat exclaims beside you.

“I don’t see this being a party,” you mutter, “and shouldn’t we get a map as well? Might be helpful, you know?” The dry sarcasm in your voice gives way to the enthusiasm you are absolutely lacking.

“We don’t need a map. Come on!” Is all she says as she pulls you and Wanda to the entrance.

“Alright well, just so you know, I'm blaming it on you when we’re still aimlessly wandering around in there by dawn,” you warn, but there’s clearly amusement in your tone you can’t suppress and you share a quick laugh with Wanda.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

It takes you three a little more than fifteen minutes to find the first checkpoint. You’re not sure if this is good or bad timing but at least you haven’t lost anyone of your small group yet so that is good.

The small flashlights you had been given earlier by an instructor cast narrow beams through the dense, twisted rows of the maze. Now, each light lands on the scarecrow ahead, its ragged form standing as still as the one you passed at the entrance. He only has one arm outstretched, clearly pointing in the direction you’ll find the next checkpoint.

“This way,” Natasha calls out, already turning to follow the path being pointed at. Her black leather jacket catches the glow of your flashlight as you walk behind her, Wanda beside you.

You hear a set of screams echoing faintly through the maze, the fifth one since you entered - an indication that in the distance, other visitors just got ambushed by scare actors in the dark. You have no intention of being next so you’re thankful for Nat taking the lead.

However, your gaze constantly darts behind you, checking your back every few minutes, convinced that at any moment something - or rather someone - might leap out of the shadows. You quickly assess and flash the path you had walked seconds earlier, before turning around again, paranoia creeping in with every step.

Distracted, you almost miss the tombstone jutting from the path ahead of you. Your heart skips a beat as your foot catches the edge, but before your face can meet the ground, Wanda’s hand shoots out. She firmly latches onto your jacket sleeve, pulling you back and steadying you, an amused laugh slipping past her lips.

“Thanks, Wan,” you laugh, a little out of breath.

“Getting lost already, ladies?”

You shriek, your heart nearly jumping out of your chest, and Wanda yelps in unison. You bump into her side, both of you spinning around hastily toward the source of the voice. Even Nat flinched, but she seems to recover quickly, letting out a low chuckle as she eyes the three figures standing before you.

You could practically hear the sultry smile she’s undoubtedly wearing behind you as she questions them. “What are you guys doing here?”

Yeah, what are they doing here? You narrow your eyes at the man who made you leap out of your skin.

Bucky Barnes. Of course.

In the middle of a creepy maze, with scare actors hiding around almost every corner, he somehow managed to sneak up on you. Typical. You shouldn’t be surprised he found you in a fucking labyrinth.

“Thought we’d check out the fancy attraction everyone’s been yapping about.” It’s Sam who answers, his words laced with a teasing grin as he stands slightly behind Bucky with his arms crossed over his chest, clearly entertained.

But Bucky didn’t even acknowledge Nat’s question. His focus remains on you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips and that glint in his eyes you know so well. He’s evidently pleased with himself for catching you off guard. Fantastic.

Steve, who comes into focus on Sam’s other side, offers you girls a sympathetic smile. There is an apology written in the way he tilts his head. “We didn’t know you were planning on coming, or else we would’ve asked you to join us,” he says, voice sincere.

Before you can respond, Bucky cuts in, stepping forward with that infuriatingly confident swagger. He throws a lazy arm over your shoulder, pulling your stiff form against his side. “Ah well, we’re together now, so let’s stay that way. We’ll get you through this maze well-protected, girls.”

His voice carries that signature smugness as if he’s doing you some grand favor and you should be grateful. You’re not. Definitely, absolutely not.

You immediately shake off his arm, stepping away from him with a sharp glare. “Yeah, no thanks. We’ll manage on our own,” you argue.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, noticeably unfazed. His smirk deepens as he leans in, eyes gleaming with amusement. “Surely that scream said something different, doll. Don’t you think?”

You scowl. “Oh, shut up, Barnes-”

Steve interrupts you with his hands held up, palms open in a calming gesture. “Let’s not make this difficult. We’ll go our own way if that’s what you want.”

“Stay,” Nat drawls, standing relaxed with her arms crossed and shooting you a teasing glance. “It’s funnier that way.”

You cut her a look that should have been able to kill her. The corners of her mouth only curl higher as she turns back towards the path ahead of you.

You see Bucky’s grin from the corner of your eyes.

You all resumed walking, six flashlights cutting through the eerie darkness around you, their beams illuminating the narrow, winding path ahead. Despite your reluctance to admit it, having the guys with you provided some sort of ease. Your shoulders droop slightly and your gait becomes more confident.

More often than not you feel the hot gaze of Bucky on your skin but choose to ignore it, focusing on the path ahead so as not to stumble over another tombstone.

“So, have you guys started preparing for-” Steve’s voice breaks through the silence but gets immediately cut off by Sam.

“Hell no, no talking about classes, or practice for that matter. That ain’t on my agenda tonight,” Sam scolds rather loudly, his voice filled with mock severity. Nat snorts, still walking ahead of you, and you join in, a small laugh escaping as Steve sighs.

The moment was brief, though, as you round another corner and Nat calls out what lay before you. “Dead end,” she declares, her tone flat but unsurprised. “Turn around.”

Grumbling softly, your group pivots and you retrace your steps to take a different turn, only to find another winding corridor shortly later. This goes on for minutes - Natasha calling out dead ends and your group backtracking to find another path offering no more than the last. The guys didn’t take a map with them as well.

You don’t fail to notice the constant presence of Bucky at your back. Each time you turn a corner he seems just a little closer, the warmth of his proximity soothing the nerves in your veins and helping with the chilling air that comes with the night. You ignore that, though.

However, you can’t ignore the fact that you did not once turn around to check your back since he and the others expanded your little group and Bucky took his place at your back. It’s strange. All the paranoia and unease from earlier had softened somehow, as if his irritating confidence bled into you, making the maze feel a little less menacing, the darkness a little less suffocating.

You feel almost reassured by the steady weight of his attention at your back like his silent presence can ward off any sense of danger.

You’re not sure how to feel about that.

Suddenly, loud menacing laughter erupts from the thick corn wall beside you. The sound is dark and jarring, cutting through the air and sending a bolt of fear through your chest. You startle with a gasp, instinctively reaching for Wanda beside you as you jump away from the bushes, your hand clutching onto her arm.

Your heart pounds violently, the adrenaline making your breath quicken. You’re too lost in the moment to notice the steady hand that has settled on your back - Bucky’s hand.

Without a word, he keeps his palm firmly pressed against the fabric of your jacket as his other hand shoots into the corn wall. You barely register his swift movement until you see him yanking out a small device - a microphone hidden in the stalks, playing that sinister laughter on repeat. With a click, the sound stops.

“Just an audio, doll, everything’s alright,” Bucky explains, his voice low and calm, the teasing edge from earlier absent.

Your breathing slows and you let go of the death grip you had on Wanda’s arm, not registering how tightly you held onto her.

Bucky’s presence remains solid and you glance at him quickly, expecting to find his usual smug grin or some sarcastic remark waiting, hoping you don’t look as embarrassed as you feel.

But there’s none of that. Instead, his expression seems almost grim as he eyes the microphone in his hand, a hint of disgust crossing his face, lips twitching. Without much care, he tosses the device back into the corn, not bothering to see where it lands.

His other hand still lay pressed against your back and you let it ground you for a fleeting second.

However, the shock transforms rather rapidly into confusion. Shouldn’t he be delighted it went on right as you passed it? Usually, he would revel in something like this, tease you for your reaction, and flash you that infuriating smirk.

He doesn’t.

You keep walking for another few minutes, the tension slowly easing back into a manageable rhythm, when Sam barks out. “There! Second checkpoint! Y’all that’s on me!”

He moves past Wanda, stopping in front of a small carton laid out on a makeshift table. Scattered across the surface were pieces of a puzzle, all with seemingly random lines on them. Four small wooden stools sat nearby, clearly set up for people to take a seat while working on the puzzle.

“A puzzle?” Bucky asks incredulously, coming to a halt with a frown, his hands on his hips.

“I think it’s cute,” Wanda offers with a smile, moving to one of the stools and lowering herself down. She picks up a piece, studying it as she begins sorting through the chaos. You agree, following her lead and settling on a stool beside her.

“You too cool for a puzzle, Barnes? Or are you scared you won’t be able to solve it?” you mock half-heartedly, your eyes already skimming over the pieces, trying to find where they fit together.

Bucky scoffs, his teasing tone returning full force. “Joke’s on you, sweetheart. I’m an excellent puzzle solver. Always did this with Bec’s when she was small.”

His voice was lighter now and you feel yourself relax a little more at the returning banter settling between you.

Though you find yourself thinking about the small comment about his sister you keep stuck on and curiosity rises in you at the little insight in his former private life. You shouldn’t find this as interesting as you did. And you shouldn’t want to know more.

Bucky lowers himself into a crouch beside you since the two other wooden stools sit beside Wanda. Nat and Steve sit down on those with mild amusement, all eyes on the puzzle pieces.

Bucky stays rather close to your side, his thigh brushing against your own as he reaches over the small makeshift table.

Sam hovers over Wanda’s shoulder, offering commentary and the glow of his flashlight as she arranges the border pieces with surprising efficiency.

“It’s an arrow,” you quip, placing a few more pieces together with a minor sense of accomplishment.

“Oh yeah? How’d you figure that out?” Bucky smirks beside you, playful as ever as he gives you a gentle shove to your shoulder with his own.

Annoyance creeps back in and you roll your eyes. “Cut it, Barnes. What you’re doing over there isn’t helpful either,” you snap, shoving him more forcefully in return. He sways slightly on the balls of his feet, letting out a low chuckle that only grates on your nerves more.

For what feels like the hundredth time, you slap his hand away from the pieces you’ve already fit together. Bucky stopped sticking his own pieces together and rather enjoys reaching over and intentionally placing the wrong pieces onto yours, or worse, rearranging what you’d already solved, eyes twinkling with mischief and the corners of his mouth tugged high up his cheeks. Each time you fix it, he finds another way to mess it up.

You refuse to look at his blinding grin.

You huff instead, slapping his other hand away as it winds around your arms trying to sneak another mismatched piece into your section.

You're also too occupied to notice the knowing glances shared across the table.

“Alright, alright, let’s get this done so we can keep moving. I’m trying to make it outta here in one piece, people,” Sam jokes with a lightness in his voice that suggests he’s enjoying this rather thoroughly.

You finished the puzzle quickly, the final piece snapping into place, and you had to hold back Bucky’s hands, refraining him from spinning the whole thing to make the arrow point in the wrong direction.

A few minutes into the walk and a few dead ends later, Wanda breaks the comfortable silence. “When’s your next game again, guys?” she asks softly.

Sam let out a groan of exasperation, throwing his arms out dramatically, almost hitting Nat. “Oh come on! What’d I say about that, huh?”

He’d been walking at the front since he claimed his spot as the lead after 'earning' it by finding the checkpoint. He turns around as he talks, facing Wanda with a playful glare.

“You said no talking about class or practice. So, I can ask about games,” she counters with a smile.

From behind you, Steve’s laugh rumbles through the group. “She got you there, pal.”

Sam shakes his head, turning ahead again, muttering. “Yeah, yeah. Game’s next Saturday.”Though his annoyance is half-hearted at best.

Then, from beside you, Bucky’s voice breaks through, casual but directed. “You’re coming, right?”His tone is laid back with an underlying expectation. The question seems to be aimed at the group but he was looking at you.

Bucky had stepped up to walk beside you after you resumed walking, his pace matching yours and you see the way his head is tilted in your direction.

You glance up at him, blue eyes watching you. He obviously waits for an answer.

“Don’t know. Maybe I have to work then.” You shrug, playing it off, and look back forward again. But you’re surprised at the way your pulse quickens under his gaze and your hand squeezes the flashlight a little tighter.

You don’t always put a whole lot of effort into being there for their games. Sure, you showed up every now and then, but not nearly as often as everyone else. It wasn’t for lack of support. More like self-preservation.

Watching Bucky stride onto the field with that cocky confidence, owning every inch of the space around him, irks you incredibly. He’s good, and he knows it - he owns it.

Unfortunately for you though, sometimes you couldn’t shove down your annoyance for the guy enough and he, unbeknownst to himself, found a way of making your stomach flip in ways you weren’t entirely proud of.

Also, that football gear - You hate the way your body reacts upon seeing him in it as if it were the first time. The fitted jersey, the helmet tucked under his arm, the way his shoulders look even broader in the pads, the brown tendrils of his fluffy and tousled hair falling over his forehead - it all makes your stomach flutter every time and it drives you crazy.

So you found ways to avoid it. You picked up extra shifts at the library, checked the game schedule weeks in advance to make sure you had a built-in excuse. You told yourself it wasn’t a big deal, just something casual you were doing to avoid unnecessary distractions. But deep down, you knew better.

And so does Natasha - if her smirk in your direction is anything to go by. You glare at her to move her attention, but it’s useless.

You’re unprepared for the following corner of the maze, lingering in the echo of your thoughts. So when the scare actor does his job, emerging from the shadows and brandishing a chainsaw that roars to life in a terrifying symphony, your soul might have just kissed you goodbye.

The flickering light from the chainsaw illuminates his grimy, masked face, a wicked smile etched across his features, and eyes glimmering with twisted mischief.

You scream - just like Wanda, just like Sam. Nat lets out a quick yelp herself and you hear the sharp intake of a breath behind you from Steve. Bucky, who had seemingly been lost in his own thoughts, flinches beside you. In a swift motion, he surges closer, grabbing your arm harsher than probably intended and pulling you to his side. His leg instinctively positions his body in front of you.

The outfit of the actor - or that’s what you try to tell yourself he is - is a patchwork of tattered flannel and soiled jeans, the perfect embodiment of a deranged lumberjack. Raised high, the chainsaw vibrates with a menacing growl, its teeth gleaming wickedly as the man brandishes it like a weapon, the scent of gasoline mingling with the earthiness of the maze.

You clutch Bucky's arm, fingers digging into the firm muscle of his biceps as he stands protectively before you, his stance rigid and shoulders tense. Your other hand is linked with his, shaking fingers surrounded by steady ones. Though his stance is stiff and tense.

Time seems to freeze as Nat, Wanda, and Sam stand still in front of you, Steve’s presence at your back.

Your heart races violently in your chest, suffocating you, and for a moment, it feels like your breath stopped altogether as the chainsaw-wielding man lunges toward you six.

All you are able to do in your state of panic is squeeze Bucky’s hand so tightly you might have feared his blood circulation cut off, if your mind were able to conjure up a thought at the moment.

Bucky reacts instantly. Without hesitation, he pivots and bolts down the maze, pulling you along. His fingers clutch yours with such fierce intensity as if his only fear is losing you in this chaos.

Steve surges ahead, taking a sharp turn right while Bucky guides you left, then right, and left again; maneuvering the maze like a seasoned racer. The world around you blurs as you focus solely on keeping up, your heart racing along with your feet. All sense of direction is lost in the chaos and you can’t tell if Nat, Sam, and Wanda are still trailing behind or if they’re swallowed by the cornrows.

You try to take a glance back, hoping to catch a glimpse of red hair, dark brown skin, or Wanda’s long coat.

“Don’t look back!” Bucky shouts over the roar of the chainsaw, his voice snapping your head to the front before you can see anything else besides the blur of yellow-green walls. “Switch off your flashlight!”

You do as you’re told.

You could have had a relaxed evening, maybe taking a bath or watching a show with warm tea and popcorn but no, instead you find yourself chased by a man with a real fucking chainsaw.

Panic surges through you again, your breaths getting shorter at Bucky's fast pace and you feel his hand tighten. There’s an unexpected strength in the way he holds you, his muscles coiling with determination. He navigates the twists and turns with instinctive agility, intense eyes moving over to you every few seconds as if the only important thing here is you.

And somehow that is oddly reassuring and maybe a bit satisfying at the moment. All that mattered is Bucky’s strong grip, anchoring you as you run alongside him.

Around another corner, the path opens up to a small clearing that offers a momentary respite. Bucky pulls you into the safety of the space, pressing your back against the rough stalks of corn, their leaves brushing against your skin. You stand chest to chest, touching each other with every ragged breath you take in.

Bucky still seems composed despite all the running you just did.

He faces the direction you had come from, muscles coiled and ready to react, arms on either side of you, practically hugging you to his chest.

“We lost the others,” you pant, glancing around as best as you could with a mountain of muscle blocking your view.

Bucky’s face is a mask of focus, his eyes scanning the maze. “Yeah. Just stay with me,” he murmurs, lowering his voice, his breath fanning over your cheeks.

He takes another few seconds to assess the surroundings, before looking down at you. ��Are you alright?” he asks softly, yet urgently.

You had never been this close to Bucky before, had never imagined such a scenario, and it leaves you unprepared for the overwhelming feelings that flood your senses.

The moonlight cast a slightly silver glow over his features but some remain hidden in shadows. His eyes search yours and you find yourself caught in the depths of his irises, a captivating swirl of blue that makes it hard to look away. His lips are parted slightly, soft breaths brushing against your cheeks and your nose fills with a scent that is something distinctly him. It doesn’t help with finding your voice. The slight furrow in his brow suggests worry as he scans your features.

You nod, still breathless from the scare and his proximity.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you manage to reply, though just then, a chilling laughter echoes from around you. The sound of the chainsaw roars back to life, slicing through the stillness.

You flinch in Bucky’s hold, instinctively moving closer and burrowing half in his chest. “Fucking asshole,”you breathe out a laugh and Bucky tightens his arms momentarily around you with a low chuckle. He seems to relax a little.

“We’ll have to keep moving,” he states, a slight trace of amusement in his tone as he looks back at you. He lifts his hand for a second as if longing to tuck the loose strands of hair behind your ears that landed in your face after the frantic escape.

You ignore the sliver of disappointment as he takes his hand back and moves away slightly, letting the chill night air brush against your skin instead of his warm breath. You feel cold, despite the adrenaline pumping in your veins.

The laughing grows louder and Bucky links his hand with yours again. “You ready?” he asks, waiting for your nod before starting to run again, darting through the maze some more.

You have no idea how long it takes before you come to another stop but your chest heaves with exhaustion as you do, ragged breaths leaving your lips. Bucky stands composed with narrowed eyes, looking around the maze.

The silence between you is perhaps a little uncomfortable, the only sound being the heavy breathing of your own labored lungs.

“Well, shit,” you utter after regaining some semblance of balance. “How do we find the others? I have no idea where we are.”

Bucky’s eyes meet yours, his expression unreadable for a moment. He licks his lips, then shrugs nonchalantly. “Looks like it's just the two of us.”

Your incredulous gaze sweeps over his face. “Seriously?” you ask, coming out sharper than intended.

Bucky rubs his hand over his face, looking away from you. “I’m sure they’re fine. Not like anything ever happens in these things. Sam probably already made a bet that he makes it to the exit before we do. So we should just…try and beat 'em.”

You know he tries to seem like this doesn’t affect him at all but there is something about him that makes your stomach churn uncomfortably. He looks a little defeated, perhaps even…hurt. And you don’t quite understand why.

Bucky’s eyes crinkle at the corners slightly as he tries for a smile but it looks wry. “Come on, doll! We’re a great team,” he insists.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, I don’t know about that, Barnes.”

Pain shoots through your chest. Not unfamiliar but not known around Bucky. His faltered expression stings and you don’t know what to do besides watching him drop his eyes to his feet and sigh heavily.

The sound feels like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless once again but without running from a man with a chainsaw.

His hands move over his hair. “It’s still Bucky for you doll. Told you many times,” he says softly, voice heavy with a mixture of dejection and desperation. “And we don’t really have a choice now, do we? We don’t know where the others are and it might take hours to find them. Just looking for the exit of this thing would be easier. Bet the others are doing the same.”

He looks at you then, with a troubled expression, seeming so vulnerable all of a sudden, traces of the cocky football player lost somewhere in this maze.

You nod then, slowly, not able to bring a word out because you have no clue as to what has him this sad.

“Alright,” he continues, nodding to himself. “I think we might have run past the third checkpoint. Let’s find the last one.”

The silence between Bucky and you stretches out like a fragile thread, the tension building with each passing moment. You can feel him glancing at you every few paces and you look over at him every once in a while but nobody says anything.

You don’t even talk when reaching another dead end, just turning around and resuming to walk.

He seems to let you lead, though, taking the turns you do.

You let your gaze sweep over the maze’s twists and turns until something catches your eye. A small, narrow wooden post stands almost camouflaged among the corn stalks, and your pace quickens.

“Over there! Look!”

It feels weird to break the silence between you but you don’t look over at Bucky as you approach the post and hear him fall into step behind you.

It’s adorned with two wooden flags, both having slightly faded letters atop. You read the first one, a small riddle as it seems.

“What’s it say?” Bucky asks, his voice quiet and low near your ear.

The glow of your flashlight helps you make out the words. “It says…What has keys but can’t open locks? What has a face but no eyes, nose, or mouth?”

You chance a quick glance at Bucky beside you. His eyes narrow. “I think I know this one,” he says slowly. “A clock, maybe.”

You read the riddle again, feeling his eyes on your profile. “Yeah, I think that’s it.” You hesitate a second. “Damn, Barnes. Not only all muscle, I see!” You're grateful for the teasing tone that made its way back to your voice and out of the corner of your eye, you can see Bucky’s grin lighting up his face again.

“You’d be surprised, doll,” he replies softly, a smile in his voice.

It isn’t quite the answer you had expected.

You thought he’d dig out the fact that you basically complimented his figure and you snapped your gaze up to his, though he doesn’t meet your eyes, instead staring at the letters on the wooden post.

“So, it’s a clock. What do we do with that?” He questions and you slowly turn back, lighting up the wooden flags again.

“There’s more.”

You move your light to the second flag, starting to read what’s written there.

“I’m a number that’s often paired. In harmony, I’m the perfect tease. Together we’re a perfect pair. A balance of Yin and Yang to share. In the morning, I’m bright and bold. By night, I’m soft and gentle to hold. My presence is felt in every way. From sunrise to sunset, every day.”

You hadn’t even finished reading when Bucky began shuffling a little beside you, straightening his spine. He watches you in silence now and you do your best to ignore his gaze.

You had no idea who came up with that riddle, but you feel like slapping that person. The weird tension between Bucky and you only tightens, seeming to snap any minute and this is no help at all.

Those words seem to sear themselves into your brain, echoing with an unsettling intimacy, you either wanted to bask in or get rid of.

You feel yourself wandering down a dangerous road.

You stare at those words carved into wood and it is as if someone had been watching you two, studying your dynamic, and decided to reduce your complicated relationship to a text.

But do you really think so?

In harmony? A perfect pair? Yin and Yang?

You know there was always something. You can try to suppress feelings for all you want but how can you get rid of something you won’t even acknowledge in the first place.

You like him. You like him a whole lot. Damn it, there is just something about this idiot you have to adore. But you can’t tell him that. Not now.

Not when the weight of his gaze hasn’t left you yet and you feel a flush rise in your cheeks.

Finally, you meet Bucky’s eyes, still fixed on you, as if waiting for something. His expression is unreadable and you feel like bolting away into the corn maze and getting lost. Maybe forever.

How can he look so calm and rigid at the same time? You know he is affected by those words but it looks more like he tries to see what they do to you.

His eyes dart back and forth between yours, so intense, your throat constricts and you look away, clearing your throat in hopes it will break the spell.

“Two,” you croak out. “That’s the answer. We have to head towards two o’clock.”

You see Bucky nodding slowly from the corner of his eye, his jaw clenched and you begin walking again.

The tension is palpable, like a living entity that wrapped itself around you. Every step feels like a struggle as if you’re wading through quicksand, fighting against the undertow of your own emotions.

The silence grows so thick, you can hardly breathe.

Light.

There is light just around the corner, beckoning you forward and distant voices grow louder with each step you take.

But right after rounding the corner, fog appears, wrapping you in its damp, grey folds. It’s disorienting at first but feels just like the fog you had passed at the entrance so this has to be a good sign.

However, as you spin around, desperate to locate Bucky, he is lost in the mist and you feel the suffocating need to feel him, hands reaching out frantically, grasping at nothing.

“Bucky!” You call out, voice strained and urgent. You don’t even notice the nickname rolling off your tongue, torn from your lips as if ripped from your throat.

In an instant, a gentle touch brushes against your arm. You jerk back at first, startled, but then feel the soft pressure of Bucky’s fingers wrap around yours. His other hand takes hold of yours, touch so gentle and careful as if you are something to be treasured.

Your heart begins to race as you realize he is right in front of you, chest nearly pressed against yours just like earlier, though this time it feels much more intense, intimate, purposeful.

You strain to see beyond the veil of mist, but it’s like gazing into a void. All you can make out is the faint outline of Bucky’s form, his chest rising and falling with each breath. His breathing is growing ragged. He can run however long away from a chainsaw-wielding man but standing in front of you is what makes him lose his breath?

Blood is pumping through your veins and you feel it rushing through your ears. He’s still standing in front of you, hands holding yours, chest resting against yours and you feel his hot breath against your face again.

You try to comprehend what he is doing, why he doesn’t lead you to the exit, but deep down you know. He’s gauging your reaction. Maybe he saw something in your gaze while reading this riddle, maybe it was in the way you looked at him, or carried yourself. But something about the way you had acted seemed to have given him courage. He found something as he searched your gaze at the wooden post.

And now he’s waiting for you.

“Bucky,” you whisper, barely audible but the hitch of a breath right in front of you is an indication he heard you.

His name is a plea, a confirmation, the consent to continue what he started.

Bucky’s fingers caress your skin, moving up your arms in such a slow motion as if he’s mapping and memorizing how every inch of your skin feels under his fingertips. Shivers run down your spine and goosebumps erupt in the wake of his hands and you know he can feel it.

His hesitation tempers down with every second.

The touch of his fingertips is magnetic and although you can’t see it, it draws you in with an almost magnetic force. You feel yourself leaning into him, eyes fixed on the fog where you know his own are, as if willing to clear it, ready to see the exact kind of blue you fell for. But you know he’s looking at you, not seeing, but still looking. And that was enough to make your stomach flutter.

As his fingers reach your face he gently tucks the flyaway strands behind your ear, holding your face in his palms and tilting it just right. His forehead lands on yours and you take a deep breath in until all you consume is him.

You don’t care about the eyesight you are lacking at the moment. You wouldn’t even care about hearing that menacing laughter again, or the roar from the chainsaw, because here in Bucky’s arms you’ve never felt saver.

You feel his presence in every way.

And when your lips meet his, moving in sync, you know.

In harmony. Like the perfect pair. Yin and Yang.

“Hold your horses, people, I hear something.”

You ignore Sam’s voice outside the fog, attention set on Bucky and his plump lips, his tongue gliding in your mouth, exploring its new home.

“Barnes! Hey, man! Y/n! You in there?”

Sam’s shout again remains ignored.

“You lost, guys, everyone’s out here!”

Bucky pulls away at that, resting his forehead against yours. You feel his huge smile against yours, keeping your eyes closed.

“Nah,” he whispers against your lips. “I definitely won today.”

“The road might be long

The stars may not guide me

But if you keep your heart open

I will find you”

- Michael Xavier

#bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes x reader #enemies to lovers #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #james buchanan barnes #protective!Bucky #corn maze #college!reader #college!bucky #athlete!Bucky

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sundrop-writes · 21 days ago

Text

Trouble Is...

Thomas (The Maze Runner) x Fem!Reader

All that I know is I just can’t say ‘no’ to you,

Funny how things never change.

All that I wanted was just to get over you.

Trouble is - I can’t find a way.

You’re part of me.

Trouble Is - you’re part of me.

Summary:

Now out of The Maze, everyone is enjoying their newfound sense of safety. Everyone except for Thomas.

He can’t enjoy the soft beds or the clean clothes or the food, because he’s too worried about you. You’re quarantined off somewhere else (presumably with other girls), and he hasn't seen you in days.

When he finally sees you, he’s too thankful to question why the two of you are put in a room alone together. Too thankful to question the mysterious smoke that’s pumped into the room. Too thankful to question why the door is locked.

Thomas (TMR) x Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut/PWP. Sex Pollen. Set during The Scorch Trials.

Word Count: 7,900

The Maze Runner Masterlist | AO3 Link

Full list of warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: general warning that any and all TMR fics I write will be based on the movies and not the books, so any lore inaccuracies can be blamed on that; also this is a YA series, but DoB was in his 20s when he played Thomas, so for our purpose, these characters are aged up to at least 19 or 20; often sex pollen comes with a dubcon warning, but I’m not sure that applies here - these characters have a great deal of pre-existing affection for each other (I might even go so far as to say that they are in love), and they would have intensely enthusiastic consent, even without chemical enhancement; the reader does have some mental hesitation when she feels the pollen taking effect, but it’s not because she doesn’t want to have sex with Thomas, it’s because of PTSD from WCKD and feeling suspicious towards them (and when Thomas assures her that he will ‘take care of her’, she enthusiastically consents to having sex); warnings for unethical science because our characters do not know that they are part of a science experiment and have not consented to have these chemicals used on them (but that is just the canon of WCKD); the reader character has a vagina and uses she/her pronouns; this fic DOES USE Y/N; this fic uses the beautiful age old trope that the reader character was the only girl in The Maze; mentions of the mental and emotional effects of isolation - the reader has been isolated from everyone else since leaving The Maze and Thomas is the first of her friends that she sees in days; this is mostly just smut with very little plot; because of the canon, both characters have had their memories erased and theoretically might be virgins or might not be virgins (yes, in the book, they were put into the Maze as ‘children’, but as I said, for my purposes, everyone is aged up) - so I am not explicitly stating if this is their first sexual experience or not, but this is their first sexual experience as a couple/first sexual experience with each other; as mentioned before, the main point of this is sex pollen - in the form of a mysterious sci-fi chemical compound that is injected into a locked room by WCKD as a part of a random experiment; scent kink - Thomas loves the way Reader smells (and has since long before being dosed with sex pollen); orgasm from clit stimulation through clothing; oral sex - reader receiving; hair pulling - Thomas receiving; unprotected penis in vagina sex; there is NO breeding kink here (the characters aren’t motivated or turned on by the idea of having a baby); there is creampie kink - Thomas does not pull out, and the characters are turned on by the idea of him cumming inside of her; Thomas is very possessive in this fic (but it’s almost unconscious, as a need to keep the reader safe, not in a jealous or romantic way); cockwarming - they fall sleeping while Thomas’s cock is still inside of the reader; the ending is slightly bittersweet (it’s implied that the reader is kidnapped/hurt by WCKD, but not explicitly stated). I believe that’s all for this short fic.

A/N: I am genuinely surprised that it took me this long to write and post a sex pollen fic, because it's absolutely one of my favourite tropes ever to read. WCKD is such a perfect backdrop for a sex pollen fic - shady unethical company that does weird science experiments - it's just too fitting. I have a few more sex pollen fics in my drafts that are yet to be finished, but I can definitely see myself writing a lot more of this trope because it was so much damn fun lmao. I will squeeze it into any fic universe that I possibly can. I love tropes that make things hornier than they should be - sex pollen, fuck or die, hate sex. All of it. Anyway - I hope you enjoy the fic, especially those of you who have been waiting for this fic in particular!!

...

Thomas was going insane.

At least - that’s what it felt like. Sure, escaping The Maze had been a victory. Being rescued by the military and being taken to a (supposedly) safe place was, for all intents and purposes - a victory.

But there was one detail that Thomas was hung up on that nobody else seemed to care about. While everybody else seemed content to go about their ‘new’ everyday lives - sleeping in the dorms, eating in the cafeteria, going through the barrage of medical tests without question - you were missing. And apparently, Thomas was the only one who seemed to care.

Perhaps that was an exaggeration, seeing as the other boys from the Glade had known you longer, and they were likely worried about you silently because you were a dear friend to them. But it certainly felt like Thomas was the only one who was anxiously awaiting your return.

When Thomas had come out of the Box, terrified, clueless, panicked - you had been the first person to be truly kind to him, rather than laughing at his blundering confusion. Every single time there had been an argument, you had stepped between him and Gally, making yourself known as a calm, motherly force that the other boys listened to - more out of habit than fear.

You were a kind leader in the Glade that everyone respected, because you had earned their respect. Not because you bullied them into following you or even because you wielded some kind of natural seniority over them like Alby had. You were kind and sweet, and all the boys responded to that.

Thomas had been surprised to learn that you had been one of the first people ever to come out of the Box. The second ever, according to Alby. You had such a strong, long-standing friendship with Alby, such a close bond with him. When Thomas saw the tears that streaked your face when you thought that Minho and Alby weren’t going to make it back before the doors closed was likely the number one thing that motivated Thomas to go dashing inside. He had wanted to rescue your closest friend for you. Some signal, some blaring siren inside him that screamed that he would do anything for you, that he needed to protect you.

It was the same thing that caused him to hold you tight when you saw Alby slowly dying from the poison of the Griever’s sting, letting you cry on his shoulder. The same thing that drove him back into The Maze, looking for a way out. A deep longing to escape, to find a better home for you.

And now, he was going more insane with each passing minute that you weren’t in front of his eyes. He was being driven out of his mind with each moment that your hand wasn’t grasped tightly within his own. Each moment that he couldn’t see you, feel you, hear your voice and know for certain that you were okay - it was slowly driving him mad.

When the group had first arrived at this facility, this supposedly safe place - you had been ushered away from the rest of the group, viciously torn out of Thomas’s arms. His grasp on your hand the whole time had been bordering on melting his flesh into your own, and he was surprised when you had been the one to relax your hand out of that grip and give him that same soothing voice you did when he got into fights with Gally - telling him that it would be okay, that you would ‘catch up with them’ later.

Thomas had wanted to kick and scream - he had wanted to yell, complain, protest about you being separated from everyone. He wanted to put up a fight about you being separated from him. But Minho clamped a hand on his shoulder and advised him to ‘shut the hell up’, clearly not wanting to upset the fragile peace they had established. Not wanting to disrupt the safety they had so freshly claimed.

So Thomas kept his mouth shut - for now. It was for the greater good of the group. Everyone was bathed, clothed, fed, sleeping in warm beds. But he couldn’t help but to feel strange that he was the only one worried about you when they hadn’t seen you in days now.

Minho simply assumed that girls weren’t allowed to co-mingle with guys in this new facility - and maybe he was right about that. But something about the whole thing just felt off to Thomas. It kept him on edge and kept him from sleeping more than an hour or so most nights while the other boys slumbered peacefully around him.

On this particular day, Thomas was in the middle of picking at his meal, scoping out the area, theorizing if he could sneak past the guards somehow. If he could get past them, he could venture down any number of the hallways that they hadn’t been to before in order to look for you. He had all this romping through his mind at a break-rate pace when someone came up behind him - tapping on his shoulder and breaking him from these thoughts in a way that utterly startled him.

Thomas whipped his head around to find one of those anonymous masked soldiers standing behind him.

“Thomas?”

He nodded in response.

“Come with me.”

Thomas wanted to question it, and when he looked back across the table, he saw Minho, Newt, and Fry looking at him with concern - but he gave them a gentle nod and rose from his seat to follow the man. Something in his gut told him that this might finally lead him to you - that his patience would finally pay off. And he wouldn’t risk that by throwing an emotional fit now.

He followed the man through a door he had never been allowed to touch before, down a long hallway, through another set of doors, and down several more long hallways - Thomas memorized the twists and turns as he had done with The Maze. First left, then right, then another left. It felt like they had been walking for too long, and Thomas had to wonder just how large this building was.

Just as Thomas was starting to feel truly on edge, the man came to a stop in front of a seemingly random door - one with a number on it. 708. He reached out, turned the handle, and opened the door. Then he nodded toward it.

“In.” He said, giving Thomas a simple, brute instruction to get inside.

Thomas was anxious and hesitant, but he pushed back those feelings - and he ended up being so glad that he did.

When he stepped inside, he was overjoyed to see you.

You were sitting on the edge of the bed (it was a room that, upon closer inspection was more like a one room prison cell - with a single bed, a single a toilet in the corner, and a small metal desk with a chair in the other corner) - you looked up when you saw movement in the doorway, having no clue what was coming next.

Your entire face lit up with intense joy when you saw Thomas.

“Thomas!” You cried out his name with intense relief, emotional tears quickly springing up in the corners of your eyes as you jumped off the bed and rushed to greet him.

“Y/N,” He breathed out your name like a prayer, his arms opening wide for you as they had been many times before.

You were quick to fall into the hug, tightly wrapping your arms around his strong torso, not wanting to let him go anytime soon. You had just been escorted back from your daily shower and your fresh clothes were still clinging to you with wetness, but he definitely didn’t mind the feeling of your damp skin under his hands. He didn’t care if you were getting his clothes wet because it was you.

It only truly hit you now how utterly terrifying the past few days had been. Going from your home in the Glade to such a strange new place, being ripped away from everything you had ever known. Alby’s death, Chuck’s death, Gally’s death - your friends dropping like flies. Being brought here and being ripped away from the safety of your friends, ripped away from the last people you knew and being completely isolated from them, not knowing when you would get to see them again.

Thomas’s tight hold around you - the familiarity of his body surrounding you, making you feel safe, it was something that made you realize how truly alone and scared you had been over the past few days. It made you realize that you had been swallowing down all of your emotions in an effort to protect yourself. It made you realize how much you truly cherished his hugs. How much you truly cherished him.

“I was so worried about you.” Thomas breathed out, clearly making a heaving effort not to cry himself.

You let out a gentle sob into his chest and he rubbed your back, trying his best to comfort you.

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “It’s okay - I’m here now. I’ve got you. I’m not gonna let you go ever again. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you, Y/N - I swear.”

Unconsciously, he was promising these things more to himself. He felt like a failure for letting you out of his sight in the first place. He had no clue what they had done to you that had made you so upset, and he cursed himself for not being with you in order to protect you from it. Even though he didn’t know what ‘it’ was, it was stupid for letting anything bad happen to you.

If either of you had been paying more attention, less caught up in the heightened emotions of the reunion, then you would have noticed the door sealing shut behind Thomas. You would have noticed the heavy ‘click’ of the lock as both of you became trapped there. But you had each other back now, and you couldn’t exactly care where you were in those moments - as long as you were in each others’ arms.

“What happened?” Thomas demanded sharply, pulling away from the hug slightly in order to put a hand on your chin, forcing your tear-streaked gaze toward his, hoping to get the truth out of you. “What did they do? What did they do to you?”

His energy increased in franticness the longer he went without an answer, staring at the sadness in your eyes with a knot forming in his stomach.

“Nothing.” You quickly replied, feeling as though this was the truth.

They hadn’t done anything to you. At least not anything that was outwardly malicious.

They had let you shower, given you fresh clothes, fed you three healthy meals a day. And other than the medical appointments that you didn’t fully understand the point of (some of which were slightly more invasive than you would have liked), none of it was dangerous or painful. You had simply been kept in this room the whole time. You had been scared from being under-informed and lonely from not being allowed to see your friends.

But none of that seemed like a crime. Especially compared to the treacherous deadly Grievers in The Maze.

“Please don’t lie to me.” Thomas said quietly, his throat choked off by the intensity of the emotions - the grief he felt for your sadness, the anger he was holding back toward whoever had hurt you. (And towards himself for not better protecting you.)

“Look, it’s nothing.”

You assured him, reaching up and grabbing his hand, soothingly petting your fingers over his knuckles in a gesture almost too affectionate for someone you called ‘friend’.

“Just - I was lonely. And I was scared because they wouldn’t let me see you. I was probably stuck in here, feeling all the same things you felt-”

Thomas cut off your words by pulling you back into another crushing hug, which you eagerly leaned into, cuddling your cheek into his chest, enjoying the warmth and the safety you felt from having his arms around you again.

“Yeah.” He easily agreed to this sentiment. And then he wondered: “Where have you been the whole time?”

“Just here.” You told him honestly.

You didn’t feel the need to tell him about the doctor’s appointments - even the unpleasant ones. Especially because you assumed that he and the other boys had been through the same, likely with a different doctor.

This caused another knot in Thomas’s gut. They had been keeping you in the same tiny room, not letting you see any other people? So - Minho’s theory about you being off in some other dorm making friends with a bunch of girls had been completely wrong.

It wasn’t outright cruel, but it made alarms go off in Thomas’s head. It made his protective instincts toward you act up again.

“I won’t let that happen to you again.” Thomas said firmly, trying his best to be assuring, even though he knew that he had no real authority over the decision.

He cradled your head soothingly, petting a hand over your hair in a sweet, protective way.

“Thomas-”

You were about to remind him of the fact that he held no power over this when a very strange sound caused your voice to shrink back into your throat as you became distracted.

You and Thomas both became drawn to the sound, both of your heads whipping up to look at it. Immediately, you saw that some of the tiles lining the ceiling had shrunk back, making way for small metal tubes that protruded out of the walls all around the room, creating a high-pitched hissing noise as they sprayed some kind of white mist into the air. This went on for about twenty seconds before it stopped, and then the tubes retracted back into the walls and the tiles slid back into their usual place.

…

“Chemical compound LI69 has been distributed.”

“How long until the subjects feel the effects?”

“Effects will be immediate. Symptoms should be noticeable in ten to twenty minutes. Desired outcome will be inevitable within twenty four hours.”

“Good. Keep bi-hourly notes. I want a full report.”

…

“What - what the hell was that?” Thomas wondered aloud, frantically looking around the room where the tubes had disappeared into the walls.

“I don’t know.” You replied honestly. “I mean - that’s never happened before. It - it was probably a disinfectant or something,” You shrugged, trying to rationalize it, trying not to jump to the conclusion that it was something poisonous or harmful.

Thomas let go of you and whipped around to the door - panic flooded him when he turned the handle and found it locked.

“Hello?!” He screamed, banging on the door and fruitlessly jiggling the handle. “Hello?! Assholes! You can let us out now!”

“Thomas,” You scolded him gently - his panic naturally unsettling to you.

You wanted him to calm down - his nervous energy was making you nervous. And you had spent far too much time over the past few days cramped up inside of this room being nervous. You wanted to simply be able to enjoy the pleasant fact of his presence after missing him for what felt like decades of loneliness. But Thomas wasn’t going to lay down and make that easy on you.

He rushed to the other end of the room, stepping up onto the desk chair and then the desk, peering into the vent as though he would be able to find a way out through there.

“Thomas, please - just calm down. I’m sure it was nothing.” You continued, trying to get him to calm down.

“Nothing?” He scoffed. “It’s never just ‘nothing’ with these people.”

This was the last thing he said to you before his mind locked in on the task, and he focused on trying to find a way out of the small room.

He spent a few minutes trying to loosen the bolts on the vent (which wouldn’t have been large enough for either of you to crawl out even if he did get the vent cover off). So all he did was make his fingers sore fighting against the welded metal. And then he moved on to brute force - he picked up the chair and tried to simply beat the doorknob clean off.

But again, it was something that was very well made, seemingly bulletproof. And by the time he had taken a few good swings, he was heaving with sweat, breathless, and he found it to be way too hot in the small space.

Surely his body was boiling over from the efforts of swinging the chair around in such a small, closed space. So he placed it down and moved to take off his shirt, surprised by just how damp the fabric was, seeped with sweat already in such a short time. He balled up the fabric and began patting himself down with it, trying to get some relief on his overly heated skin.

And then, his entire system became utterly distracted by a single, tiny sound.

A whimper.

He whipped his head around at lightning speed, realizing that it had been you who had made that sound - it had been your whimper. And suddenly, everything in Thomas’s body, every single one of his senses became utterly overwhelmed by you.

The sight of you on the bed, sitting patiently, waiting for him to fetter away at whatever plan he came up with next - you looked so stunning, so breath-taking. You were covered in a sheen of sweat, obviously warmer than before - so it wasn’t just Thomas. It wasn’t just because of his exertion in trying to break out of here.

Were they turning up the temperature in the room? Were they planning to cook the two of you as some kind of punishment?

Yet - that thought quickly dissolved off into Thomas’s mind as a distant worry the more he looked at you; the more he drank in your slightly parted, bitten lips - so pretty, so kissable. The more he looked at the way stray hairs stuck to your flushed, sticky skin, wanting to gently wipe them out of the way. The more he admired your breasts gently heaving with each breath, your nipples sticking off through your shirt and thin bra.

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could even smell you in the air.

Your natural smell was something so prominent in the air, something so perfect he could suffocate in tight in the small space. Shamefully, that scent was something he knew so damn well, something he had memorized and treasured close when his memories of life had still been so few and his head had still been so empty.

Hugging you those first few times, he had tucked his nose into your hair and greedily whiffed deep breaths of your scent, absolutely loving how you were sweet, soapy. Even if you were slightly sweaty from a long day of work, your natural scent was so damn perfect to him.

It was a smell that he loved so dearly - on top of everything else that he loved about you.

This time that wonderful scent that he knew as yours had something else underlying with it - something needy and pungent that he wouldn’t quite know yet was arousal. Your arousal. But it was bringing back that feeling of anxious insanity that he had been boiling with earlier that day. The feeling that made him practically crawl out of his own skin, feeling like he needed to get to you. Feeling like he needed to save you from some big, unseen danger.

Here, now, being in this room with you - he still didn’t feel close enough. He wasn’t close enough to you. He still didn’t feel as though that anxious thing inside of him, calling out for you had been answered. Not yet.

Thomas had the urge to reach out and pull you close, hold you in his arms again, but he had a feeling that he would squeeze you tight and not want to let go - and then he would lose focus on getting you out of this room and to a safe place. And that just wouldn’t do.

“Thomas - you-your shirt…” You whispered the words on the edge of your breath, as though you were breaking some terrible secret by speaking it aloud.

He had almost forgotten that he had stripped off his shirt in such a haste. The fabric was now clutched tightly in his shaking fist. Unconsciously, he was directing all of his energy to that point, furiously focusing on his grip to help himself resist the urge to reach out and grab you.

He hadn’t yet noticed the way you were looking at him.

Your eyes hungrily raking over his bare torso, scanning over every inch of him. From the muscles that bulged in his biceps while he moved, to the veins protruding in his forearms, to the trail of delicious dark hair down from his belly button that disappeared into his pants. It was a way you had never looked at him before. You had never truly noticed how Thomas - your strong, comforting Thomas - was so utterly, carnally sexy.

He thought nothing of taking off his shirt in front of you, because it was something he had done plenty of times before. He had done it while working in the gardens with you (as a leader in the Glade, you had rotated jobs a lot, going wherever a spare hand was needed). And you certainly hadn’t looked at him with anything resembling hunger in your eyes back then.

At least, he thought you hadn’t.

“Sorry.” He mumbled out, worried that he had made you uncomfortable by stripping so casually in front of you. “I just find it really warm in here, too warm, it’s hot - do you find it hot?”

He had to ask, hating that nagging heat, almost as if it was crawling under his skin - something so much different from the pleasantly warm sun of the Glade. This was a heat bubbling up from his very core, pin-pricking all over his skin from the inside out. He wondered if this was what a fever felt like.

Was he getting sick? Was he going to get you sick?

He felt another thick bead of sweat roll down his face and he used his balled up shirt to wipe it off.

“I guess?” You huffed out, seeming irritated. “Maybe.”

You squirmed on the spot and let out a pained sound, something that had Thomas on high alert once again.

“What’s wrong?” Thomas asked, purposefully locking his knees to keep himself from jumping toward you.

If he was getting sick, then invading your personal space wouldn’t be a good idea. In fact - he made it a point to take a step back, putting distance between himself and you. But he kept his eyes locked on you, keeping a protective watch over you while his back became flush with the metal of the door. It was a pleasantly cooling sensation for a moment before the fever inside of him overpowered it - reminding him just how boiling hot he was.

“It hurts.” You told him, your voice dissolving into a shaky, pained whine.

Shamefully, the sound rocked Thomas, and flooded him with something that could have only been described as arousal.

Fuck.

The way you looked up at him with glassy-eyes, tears barely edging your waterline, clearly hot and overwhelmed yourself, squirming against the bed - trying to get some friction against your… oh. Oh wow. That realization rocked him like a ton of bricks to the head, and even more heat swelled up inside of his gut.

You must have been feeling all the same things that he was.

Dizzy, hot, overwhelmed - having an intense need to hold you and to be held. Brain thumping with nothing but thoughts of you, mind littered with nothing but your smell, nothing but thoughts of your skin. Willing to do anything for you at a moment’s notice.

Thomas finally let himself flex to those needs, and raced across the room toward you - literally falling on his knees in front of you.

If you had pain, he would fix it. He would do anything for you.

“What hurts?” He asked, realizing that the desperation throttling his throat made it sound more like he was begging. But he was too far gone to care. “What hurts? What’s wrong? Come on, tell me. Please.”

You were almost too incoherent to put the feeling into words so quickly, as quickly as he needed you too. You were too distracted by the sight of his big soft brown eyes staring up at you with utter worship in them - along with his pink cheeks and bits of his dark hair stuck to his face with sweat, that softness contrasted by the broad hardness of his shoulders spread across your lap.

“Thomas-” You gasped out, cut off by his next action.

“Y/N, please.”

He grabbed up both of your hands, clutching them tightly in his own - and that, the first skin-to-skin contact you had felt since becoming this overwhelmed with the heat and the need - it set something off inside of you. It sent sharp shocks up your spine and made your pussy clench around nothing, sending a flood of wetness soaking into your underwear. And it made you feel too weak for your own good in that moment.

If you lingered there for too long, you would tumble into the abyss. You would simply give into every instinct screaming inside of your body and beg for him to fuck you until you didn’t know your own name.

And even though that was everything you had ever wanted, all you could remember wanting right then and there, especially from Thomas, the small remaining sense in your brain said that it was a bad idea.

You let out a sharp gasp, and raced to escape the touch - you knocked your hands out of his and squirmed away from him, jumping up off the bed. Thomas let out a whine of disappointment and crumbled tighter onto his knees, wondering what he could have done to disappoint you. Knowing that he needed to do anything he could to make up for disappointing you.

But something inside of his skull was chanting:

She’s in pain. Make it stop. Make her pain go away.

You know the answer.

And while you panicked, hoping to fight against what your body wanted, hoping to delay the inevitable, the thing that Thomas already knew he wanted, Thomas picked himself up off the floor.

All too soon, he crowded into your personal space from behind. You let out another shocked gasp as he pressed his body into yours from behind, the firm, intensely heated muscle like wall of lava engulfing you.

This time, not letting you get away, he secured you there with a hand around your chest that was oddly comforting, making sure to pull you close and keep you close. He forced you to feel every single inch of his boiling hot body pressed right up against yours. Sweat gently sticking against you through your clothes, his hot breath huffing against your neck, and what must have been the hard bulge of his cock pressing against the roundness of your ass.

It was all too perfect. And still, something nagged in the back of your mind that you couldn’t have that perfection all to yourself. Something must have been wrong in order for this to be happening to you.

“Thomas,” You whined out - unsure if you wanted to tell him to get off or wanted to beg him for more.

Instinctively, you reached up and gripped at his forearm, sinking into the security of his touch. It was soothing, in a sense, and at the same time - it drove your body mad and made the pain in your cunt so much worse.

Any mental clarity you previously had was quickly fading.

So much so that neither of you had the mind to piece together that this was happening to you because of the chemicals that had been sprayed into the room earlier. Not that you could do much about it now.

Thomas leaned over your shoulder, stuffing his nose into your neck, taking in a purposeful, thick whiff of your scent. He drank you in so shamelessly now, so happy to have you in his arms, right where he wanted you - right where he needed you. He held your body so tight to his, almost crushing you in his grip in the most perfect way - as if worried you might escape if he let you move even an inch.

Between desperate pants, he laid slick, open-mouthed kisses along your forehead, down the side of your face - lavishing you with affection, grateful and greedy now that he had you in his arms, now that he had caught you. Grateful that he had taken you from those bastards who had stolen you from him. Grateful that he had won.

His actions left you panting wildly into the air as the heat surged within your body - this attention on your skin not being enough, but yet, your mind was too muddled with the overwhelming heat to ask for more.

He continued kissing your skin, even nosing along your cheek before he finally gathered enough of his mind to speak.

“I’ll help. I’ll help you, Y/N.”

He huffed out, heaving more of his dense beautiful breath across your skin, making you whine again in return.

“I’ll fix it. Just tell me. Just tell me what hurts. Please, tell me. I promise I’ll fix it. I can fix it.”

His utter dedication to you was sewn into every word, clutching you tighter across the chest in a way that almost crushed your windpipe - something that made you gasp for air and nearly thank him for it, wanting to dissolve back into his hot muscles and live there, somehow still not close enough.

“I’ll do anything for you, Y/N, I will. I’ll help you. Just tell me, please.”

You found the fire of that dedication more enlightening than the one slowly boiling you to death from inside, and it was that - that sacred promise that had you finally giving in. It was Thomas’s sacred affection for you that finally made you feel safe to give into your body’s needs.

You reached out and grabbed Thomas’s hand - the one hovering by his side that wasn’t keeping you trapped tightly against his chest. His fingers locked tightly in a fist without the fabric of his shirt to keep his knuckles from popping under the fury of his own grip this time. You rubbed soothingly on the back of his palm, loosening the muscles there before you guided that hand between your thighs, guiding him to touch you on your still clothed pussy, through your pants.

“Here, Tommy.” You breathed out, your tongue feeling so fat and useless in your mouth. “It hurts here. Need your help. Need you.”

Without a moment of hesitation, instantly understanding what you needed, sparked with even more desperation by the nickname on your lips, Thomas sprung into action.

He began frantically rubbing your pussy through your pants - inadvertently pushing the zipper at the front of your trousers right up against your clit with the heavy weight of his palm. A sensation that made you keen out and arch back into him as though you had been possessed, harsh, amazing tingles zapping through your body from that tiny point. You threw your head back against his shoulder and relied even more on the strength of his body and the will of his grip across your shoulders not to fall down as ravenous pleasure overtook you.

“I’ll fix it.” He huffed into your ear.

His voice barely registered to you past the shocking beautiful pleasure he was causing between your thighs as he continued to rub your clothed clit.

“I’ll make it better. I’ll make it all better.”

He laid more hot, sloppy kisses against your neck and your cheek, and you could do little more than moan out loudly and squirm against him, becoming utterly lost in the sensations. You accidentally humped your ass against his cock in a way that made him growl and rub your clit even harder, even faster. It made you absolutely alight with pleasure, filling all of your senses with nothing but him. Nothing but the feeling of his strong arm working between your thighs, nothing but the scent of his sweat in the air, nothing but his quiet growls against your ear.

“Oh, Tommy!” You moaned out. “I’m gonna-”

Before you knew it, your body had been overtaken by the intense wave of an orgasm, something that had you crying out loudly and shaking in his arms, your body beautifully dizzy in seconds. You reached out to grip his forearm, leaving claw marks in his skin while you let out a stream of incoherent sounds as the sensations rocked you.

“Hey, shh. I got you. I got you,” He was nothing but a sweet assurance in your ear - his dick still throbbing and utterly needy in his pants, but forgotten in favor of pleasing you. For now.

After a few moments, he lifted his hand from between your thighs, causing a sharp whine of disappointment from you. He used this touch to force your jaw toward him, twisting your neck awkwardly to meet him in a kiss over your shoulder. It caused an ache in your neck, but you delighted in the feeling of his lips desperately clinging to your own, the chance to steal his breath.

You had thought about kissing Thomas many times before - but you had never imagined that it would be like this.

When it was over, there was one thing that both of you knew for certain: you both needed more.

“Please, Tommy.” You breathed against his mouth as you pulled away from the kiss. “I need more. Please.”

Every single instinct inside of him screamed to follow this order - that this was the divine answer to his existence. This was everything his life had been leading up to from the moment he had seen your sweet face after he had been pulled out of that fucking Box.

“I got you.” He assured you.

He then guided you back to the bed and - very hesitantly - separated his grip from you in order to make sure that you could comfortably lay down on your back. Within seconds, he was on you again, absorbing your mouth into a hot, desperate kiss while he laid flush on top of you.

You couldn’t help but to moan into that kiss, fisting your hands into his hair, holding him tightly to you as though he was your only source of oxygen - welcoming it when his tongue forced its way into your mouth. You sucked on it and moaned around him, becoming dizzier with the heat.

When you felt his hard cock against your thigh, feeling him jutting his hips forward to try and find some relief against you - it caused a deeper pain in your pussy, a distinct feeling of emptiness and you knew that you needed more. You knew exactly what you needed - what that ‘more’ was.

You pulled back from the kiss to whimper against his lips.

“More.” You pleaded gently. “Please, Tommy.”

“Yes.” He huffed back in return. “Anything - anything for you.”

Naturally, his hands went back between your legs, and you guided him up to the button of your pants, both of you working frantically in tandem to get your pants off this time. That nagging heat only building inside of you, something telling you that you would go insane if you didn’t get your clothes off soon. While Thomas ripped your pants down over your thighs, pulling your underwear with them, you sat up slightly and ditched your shirt, leaving you wearing only the thin cotton bra that had come with this set of new clothes.

Thomas let out a growl when more of your delicious scent hit him. With your pants around your ankles, it was more pungent now, ripe in the air, smacking him in the face in the most perfect way. And he felt another wave of crippling heat punch him in the gut as it fogged his brain over. It was so pungent that it was ripe on his tongue and he needed more. Something in his brain was chanting at him that he needed to taste it - he needed to devour that delicious scent, the essence of you, right from the fucking source.

With his tongue lapping at the air like a fucking dog, Thomas let out more thick, heavy breaths while he desperately tried to untangle the fabric from your ankles, trying to free you so that he could have better access to you. After a moment too long of struggle for both of your liking, he was finally able to toss it all carelessly behind him, leaving you almost naked beneath him.

But he didn’t have a moment to marvel at the beauty of your bare body. A sight that he had imagined so many times before in his mind’s eye, snuck away into the privacy of the woods with a hand tight around his cock thinking about this exact sight - no, he couldn’t sit back and simply drink it in.

He was a man on a mission - a man living through a years long drought and finally met with the glorious fountain that would eternally quench his thirst.

He didn’t even question the need to put his mouth on your pussy, didn’t wonder why the thought was so prominently at the forefront of his mind. Instead, he simply pinned your legs open against the bed with his palms flat on your inner thighs and did it, chased the urge that rang through his mind so damn clearly.

“Oh, Thomas!”

In seconds, it was the most divine thing he had ever experienced.

With you moaning above his head, gasping out his name, with your taste so pungent on his tongue, with your heat beating under his mouth - it was too fucking perfect to let go of.

Thomas moaned into your pussy, pure fuzzy pleasure melting his brain between his ears, making it impossible for him to think of anything but you. His mind filled with nothing but feed me, feed me, keep me alive, you are my life.

The thick taste of your wetness on his tongue was all he needed, all he needed to live from now on, nothing more. He could feel you squirming and fighting against him; he could feel your thighs jolting and jumping under his hands as your nerves were overstimulated. He could feel your hips bucking up into his face, smearing more of that perfect wetness across his chin and cheeks, smothering him in it - perfect, how perfect.

He could feel the sting of you tugging on his hair but it only added to the perfect sensation of dumb dizziness that pumped through him, that made him so fucking ravenous for you. It only made him moan into your cunt louder and shove his tongue into you deeper, looking for more.

“Oh, ugh! Tommy! Tommy!”

You felt like you were burning alive.

His tongue against you was horrible and perfect - doing nothing to relieve the ache deep inside of you, one that demanded to be filled.

His tongue lapping at you so hungrily only added more terrible, sweltering heat, causing more shocks of pleasure stinging up your body with each deep pass of his tongue that he swept over you, trying to devour you whole.

The more he moaned against you, the more he vibrated your already sore clit, making you cry out, the more he caused your body to be consumed by that deep, uncomfortable he. The more he made it near impossible for you to breathe past the moans fighting out of your lungs.

You desperately tugged on his hair, but only got his attention when you finally fought hard enough to get words out.

“Tommy, please!” You begged, tears spilling out of your eyes now. “Please, stop! It hurts!”

Those words - those painful words shocked Thomas back to reality.

Had he been selfish, drinking from your essence to satisfy his thirst without considering your own?

He pulled back from your pussy with a wet smack that made you whimper, taking his hands off your thighs, finally freeing your legs from the tight, stretched out position. Somehow, he looked even better staring you down with those needy, wide eyes while his face was covered in your juices.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I-”

“Please, just - I need you.” You choked out in reply, reaching a shaking hand toward his pants. “I need you inside me, Tommy. I need you to fix it.”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Thomas replied, chanting to you as though answering a prayer in a place of worship, fully prepared to worship you as the goddess you were to him. “Yes, I’ll fix it.”

He rushed to get his pants and underwear off with just as much frantic struggle, and soon he was naked on top of you. Meanwhile, you ripped off the stupid bra in order to feel the satisfying press of his bare skin on yours, something impossibly boiling hot. A feeling that had you moaning into his shoulder while you hooked your leg around his hip, urgent to get closer to him.

Without a second of hesitation, Thomas sunk his cock inside of you.

His cock was a searing hot rod pressing into your well-slicked entrance, making both of you white-out with the feeling for a few moments while the need and satisfaction rattled through your insides. It was what you had both been waiting for, desperately needing from the moment that mystery chemical had hit your systems. And now that you had it - Thomas’s cock deep inside of you, the perfect satisfaction of being joined, being as close as possible, your body sang with perfect relief.

But there was still that nagging for something more.

Neither of you would be satisfied - it wouldn’t fully be out of your systems until you both came from this.

It was that nagging that had him gripping onto your hips, holding you still so that he could begin hammering into you, desperate to answer that nagging in the back of his skull: fuck her, take her, fill her up - she’s yours. She is yours.

It was a feeling so utterly perfect that you instantly relaxed against him - all of your muscles melting into the feeling of his cock fucking into you so rapidly, filling you up so well. You gripped tightly at his back, determined to hold him close, just as he had done to you before. You needed to keep him absolutely close, so tight to your body while his cock filled you up so perfectly.

“Tommy, please. Oh, oh, Tommy!” You moaned into his neck, your pussy fluttering around him as his hips stuttered.

Overwhelmed and dizzy with the heat, from the tips of his ears to the space where his cock sunk deep into your warm pussy, drowning in wetness, he could only focus on one thing. One single mission rattling between his ears.

Fill her up. Make her yours.

“Gonna fill you up.” He growled back, not even entirely realizing that he was speaking these words aloud - a sacred promise to him now, the only driving force of his entire life, the thing that his entire existence hinged on. “Gonna make you so full of me. So perfect, so full of me.”

Getting lost in your warm pussy, filling you up, making your pain go away, worshiping you. He wasn’t going to lose you again, he was going to keep you safe. He was going to keep you in his arms forever, was going to keep you safe, wrapped around his cock - forever. He fucked his hips forward harder, making a loud, wet smack continually resonate throughout the room as he tried his hardest to deliver on these promises.

“Gonna make you mine,” He growled, his voice reaching a deep tone that you had only ever heard when he had argued with Gally - ticked off, full of rage. “Gonna keep you safe. Forever.”

But somehow - this was different. It was a rage that was twinged with passion.

With love.

It was a sound that made all the hair on your body stand on end, forced a sharp gasp from your lips as it utterly rocked your body.

You dug your nails into his back, possessively gripping the flesh, holding him tightly, trying to keep him close. Forcing him to keep his promises.

“Yours.” You echoed back, your voice half-breath, half pure need.

“You are mine.” He groaned in return. “Mine, mine, mine, mine-”

He chanted this as a mantra, fucking into you harder with each utterance of the sacred word before he cut himself off with a harsh gasp, his hips stilling suddenly.

And then - perfection.

He pressed into you as deeply as possible, filling you up with perfect warmth, delivering on his promise. Your gut curled with a nearly painful orgasm in response, causing you to bite down tightly on the flesh of his shoulder as you moaned wildly against him. Tears leaked from your eyes as you were nearly blinded with euphoria.

“Mine.” Thomas hummed again, almost quietly to himself, leaving a small peak on the side of your neck to compliment his point.

Once again, just as he had done when he first entered the room, he cradled your head so softly, petting your hair soothingly. It was a deep contrast to the near rabid man who had been fucking you only a minute ago. And he gently humped his hips against you, something unconscious telling him to make sure that he fucked his cum deeper into you - nice and deep.

The two of you stayed tangled like this, instinctively not wanting to pull away from each other, an intense need to stay locked so close. Needing to be close to the person you needed most. In an effort not to crush you with his body weight, Thomas rolled onto his side, with you still holding him tightly, with your leg still hooked over his hip, with his softening cock slightly falling out of your now messy cunt - much to the disappointment of both of you.

(Thomas surprised himself when he shoved his hips forward, trying to get closer, trying to get back inside of you.)

But you both felt much more at ease now. And tangled together like that, with your arms wrapped around each other, with Thomas gently kissing over your forehead and your shoulders - you both dozed off into a gentle sleep.

…

Thomas woke up cold and alone.

He dressed frantically, and surprisingly, he found the door unlocked.

He had too many questions, and had one singular mission on his mind:

Find you, and kill anybody who had laid their hands on you without his permission.

...

A/N: Please keep in mind, this is a oneshot, and there will not be a continuation or a 'Part 2'. If you liked this fic, please consider showing me that by reblogging or commenting, but if you are going to comment, please comment about the body of work that has been written instead of asking for more. If you want to see more fics from this fandom, I will be posting more in the future, and if you want to see more things that I have already posted, I have over one million words worth of work between my AO3 (linked in my pinned post) and my Masterlist for you to enjoy. Happy reading, and I hope you have a great day!!

#sundrop writes #dylan o'brian x reader #dylan o'brien smut #thomas tmr smut #thomas x reader #thomas tmr #the maze runner #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner smut #the maze runner fanfiction

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florencemtrash · 1 year ago

Text

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

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755 @sidthedollface2 @auggiesolovey @cleverzonkwombatsludge @kemillyfreitas @transparentmoonglitter @ang-taylorsversion @ssmay123 @just-m-2 @sevikas-whore @lalalucha @svtwonwoow @user707sthings @cherryinsalemverse @evylynny @decrepit-bees-knees @eleganttravelercloud @ghostwritermia @smitty-werbenjagermenjenson @fussel9913 @st0rmyt @glitterypirateduck @mischiefmanagers @waytoomanyteenagefeels @acourtofdreamsandshadows @sakurafrost3-blog @utterlyotterlyx @vickykazuya @venussdovess @xxxalicerogersxx @mattiescove @goldenmagnolias @secret-ly-here @kindaslightlyacidic @brujitafantomatico @venussdovess @xxxalicerogersxx @earth-to-lottie @balsalmic-vinegar @darbuckle21 @justagingerliving

#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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thisreadswhatever · 1 year ago

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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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ssivinee · 3 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 · 7 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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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 6 months ago

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

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

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 · 2 months 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.

138 notes · View notes

hd-junglebook · 10 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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242 notes · View notes

taestarii · 2 years ago

Text

☼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

request link

"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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pursuitseternal · 3 months ago

Text

✨⚡️ “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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