#Searching the depths au | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sunsburns · 2 months

Text

kiss of life (ii.)

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!daughter reader

part one

summary: i actually suck at writing summaries but basically this is part two of part one of that soulmate au fic i posted a week ago lol

—or: luke castellan is being haunted by kronos and... well, you.

word count: 6.42k

warnings: sorry for any spelling errors, i haven’t checked yet, suppperrr angsty, luke castellan pov as he's slowly being corrupted by kronos, long reading time, descriptive injuries, blood, pre-tlt, luke is stubborn and a dick, loser!luke, annabeth smacking some sense to luke, grover being an icon, reader is lowkey unreliable tbh... cliff hanger (again... lmfao sorry)

a/n: part two!!! thank you guys for all the love on the first part! i am so grateful for everything and i love reading all the comments and reblogs. i hope this one doesn't end up flopping lmfaooo. i honestly wanted this to be a short angsty fic but i got carried away and now i'm planning a whole multi-part fic for this, phew. anyways enjoyyy <;33

At eighteen, Luke was cursed with nightmares.

They clawed at the edges of his mind, threatening to unravel the fragile front of peace that he had fought so hard to maintain. Each night, he would awaken drenched in a cold sweat, the echoes of his tortured dreams lingering in the corners of his mind like a haunting melody.

The Hermes cabin, once a sanctuary from the outside world, now felt like a prison, its walls closing in around him with each passing moment. The moon, a silent witness to his torment, cast its ethereal glow through the window, illuminating the slumbering forms of campers. Some were children of Hermes, like himself, bound by the tenuous ties of blood and kinship. Others, however, were unclaimed, their parentage shrouded in mystery and uncertainty.

And as Luke lay awake in the stillness of the night, a sense of loneliness washed over him like a tidal wave, drowning him in a sea of doubt. In the depths of his troubled sleep, he could feel the tendrils of darkness closing in around him, threatening to consume him whole. And try as he might to deny it, he knew that his nightmares held a deeper significance, a harbinger of events yet to unfold in the shadowy pits of fate.

His nightmares were callings. A taunting voice would echo through the corridors of his mind, its insidious whispers weaving a thought of deceit and manipulation. It masqueraded as a voice of reason, a beacon beckoning him towards a destiny that promised demigods everything.

At first, Luke dismissed it as nothing more than the ramblings of a tortured soul, the byproduct of his own restlessness. But as the whispers grew louder and more insistent, he could no longer ignore the chilling realization that they were something far more sinister—a call to arms, a summons to embrace his role as a harbinger of the new world.

The nights he wasn't shaking from night terrors, he was tossing and turning at the thought of you. And he didn’t know what was worse. He couldn't escape you. The haunting image of you lingered in his mind even during sleep — your lips, your eyes, your skin, your voice, and that shared scar and your demise.

But at least, you'd given up on him by then. Your persistent efforts to reach out to Luke gradually dwindled into nothingness. Though you were still everywhere, a shadow that seemed to torment his every move, you no longer gave him even a fraction of your attention.

Gone were the days of you seeking him out, your footsteps no longer echoing in the halls of Camp Half-Blood in search of him. You refrained from asking for Chris's help, no longer burdening him with questions on Luke's whereabouts. The notes you once left behind were now relics of a time long past, their words fading with each passing day.

And as the full moon rose once more over the waters of the lake, you no longer waited by its shores.

Luke turned in bed, his mind restless as he tried to shake the image of you. He pulled the covers tighter around himself, seeking comfort in the warmth they provided, but the chill of unease still lingered in the air.

His gaze drifted across the row of beds, each a testament to the diverse personalities that inhabited the Hermes cabin. The floor was strewn with a chaotic array of sleeping bags, toys, and discarded clothing, while a collection of rocks adorned one corner near the closets, and drawings adorned the walls.

Despite the usual chaos that reigned during the day, the cabin now lay quiet and still. The children of Hermes, along with the unclaimed children and the ones of minor gods, had finally settled into the embrace of sleep.

But amidst the calm, a sense of unease gnawed at Luke's consciousness. He couldn't shake the feeling that had settled over him after he noticed the empty bed and the slightly ajar door.

Luke pushed back the covers and rose from his bed. His footsteps echoed softly as he made his way toward the empty bottom bunk, hoping not to wake anyone. The sight of an old penguin stuffed animal discarded at the foot of the bed made him edgy. His eyes trailed to the traces of blood splattered on the hardwood floor, stark against the dim light filtering through the cabin windows.

With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, Luke picked up the toy, its soft white and black material now stained with crimson. Clutching it tightly in his hand, he made his way out of the cabin, the urgency of his steps echoing in the stillness of the night.

He knew all too well who the missing camper was – five-year-old Penelope, one of the newest arrivals to Camp Half-Blood and possibly one of the youngest campers. Found wandering alone in the woods near the camp hill just a week ago, she had been brought to safety by a group of fellow demigods on a quest. Luke couldn't shake the resemblance she bore to a younger Annabeth, with her wide eyes and insatiable thirst for knowledge. He wouldn't be surprised if Athena claimed her as her own one day–that is if he ever found her.

Luke's worry for Penelope weighed heavily on his mind, a knot of anxiety tightening in his chest as he combed through every inch of camp. The traces of blood he discovered fueled his unease, each droplet a stark reminder of the dangers lurking just beyond the safety of the camp's borders.

In his search, Luke traversed familiar paths and hidden corners, his footsteps echoing in the quiet stillness of the night. He scoured the armour, the climbing wall, and the camp store.

Luke had known all about campers disappearing, whether it be on a quest or to escape and try to live a normal life with humans that never really lasted long enough as monsters would dwell within the shadows outside of camp.

It was in the dim glow of the kitchen lights that Luke finally caught a glimpse of Penelope, perched on the counter in her pyjamas, her hair adorned with two loose pigtails. A sense of relief washed over him at the sight of her safe and sound, yet it was short-lived as he noticed she wasn't alone.

His hand hovered over the door, hesitating as he listened to the soft murmur of conversation from within. With a steady breath, Luke pushed the door open ever so slightly, peering through the crack to catch a glimpse of Penelope. And you.

You, who looked older than when you first met in the infirmary. There was an air of maturity about you, a gracefulness that hadn't been there before. Your features seemed more refined, your presence commanding attention in a way that spoke of inner strength and resilience. Luke couldn't help but notice how your beauty had blossomed, surpassing the standards of mere mortal allure. It was a beauty that seemed to defy classification, uniquely yours yet undeniably captivating.

Despite this, Luke sensed a shift in your demeanour—a resignation, perhaps, to the reality of his ignorance. You had lost any hope you once harboured for him. His guarded nature would forever keep you at arm's length. And while part of him knew that this was for the best, a small, almost imperceptible part of him couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret.

For in the crossroads of his heart, amidst the shadows that threatened to consume him, there lingered a faint glimmer of longing. The thought of being intertwined with someone who could offer solace in his darkest moments, who could bring light to the depths of his despair, held an undeniable appeal. And as much as he tried to deny it, the chance of you approaching him once more tugged at the fringes of his resolve, tempting him to let down his guard and allow you closer than he ever dared to imagine.

"So, you wanna tell me what you're doing up this late?" You approached Penelope with a gentle smile, a cookie in your hand as a peace offering.

Your words hung in the air, gentle and coaxing, as you tried to draw Penelope out of her shell. Luke watched from the shadows, his gaze flickering between you and the young camper, a sense of admiration stirring at how you spoke to Penelope.

Penelope hesitated, her gaze shifting between the cookie in her hand and you.

"You don't know?" You persisted, your voice a soft murmur that carried a hint of playfulness. You settled beside Penelope on the counter, your posture was relaxed as you leaned in closer to her. "Is it... a secret?" you whispered.

Luke noted the subtle change in your demeanour, the way you seemed to adapt effortlessly to Penelope's shy nature. It was a side of you he hadn't seen before, one that resonated deeply with him.

As Penelope nodded in response to your question, you continued, your tone gentle and reassuring. "Let me tell you a secret," you offered, holding up your pinky finger as a symbol of trust. "I am the best secret keeper in this camp. I pinky promise."

After a moment's hesitation, Penelope tentatively reached out, her tiny finger linking with yours in a hesitant pinky promise. A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips.

Penelope murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I got hurt."

"What?" You gasped in genuine concern, your eyes widening as you shifted your attention to the young camper. "Can I see?"

Penelope nodded silently, her arm outstretched towards you. Luke observed from his vantage point, his heart twisting with worry as he noted the faint hint of red near Penelope's elbow.

You took Penelope's arm into your hands gently, your touch tender and reassuring as you rolled up the sleeves of her pale pink pyjamas. Luke couldn't help but notice the familiarity of those pyjamas, a subtle reminder of Annabeth's kindness and resourcefulness in making Penelope feel at home.

"Oh, wow, that looks like it hurts," You remarked softly, your brows furrowing in sympathy as you retrieved a first aid kit from the nearby cabinets. "You're handling it very well," you praised Penelope, your tone gentle and encouraging. "So brave of you."

Penelope watched you attentively as you began to clean her wound, her small frame tense with discomfort. "I don't feel brave," she admitted quietly.

"No?" You glanced up at her, "why not?"

"I miss my mommy."

Her words were tinged with a sense of longing that struck a chord with both you and Luke.

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek, his thoughts drifting to his own longing for his mother. Penelope's admission resonated with him deeply, reminding him of the ache that never truly faded, no matter how many years passed, no matter how deep he tried to bury it.

It was a sentiment shared by every demigod at camp, a silent ache that echoed through the cabins and training grounds. Yet, it was a pain rarely spoken aloud as if verbalizing it would make it all too real, too unbearable.

The yearning for a parent, for someone to fill the void left by their absence, weighed heavily on each camper's shoulders. It was a burden they carried silently, masking their vulnerability with bravado and determination. But for Penelope, the longing was raw in its innocence.

At just five years old, she was too young to fully comprehend the extent of her emotions. She couldn't grasp the complexities of her situation, the world of gods and monsters that surrounded her. All she knew was the absence of a mother's embrace, the absence of a comforting presence to soothe her fears and wipe away her tears.

It was a pain she didn't deserve, a burden too heavy for such a young soul to bear. The gods, in their arrogance and indifference, seemed oblivious to the lives they had shattered, and the pain they had inflicted upon their own children.

"Yeah?" You responded gently, "How much do you miss her?"

"This much," Penelope replied, her small hands spreading wide.

"Wow! That's a lot," you remarked, a sombre note underlying your tone as you processed Penelope's words. After a beat of silence, you shook off the heaviness of the moment and mustered a smile for her. "There we go. All cleaned up," you announced cheerfully, pressing a bandaid onto her elbow.

Penelope's smile widened in response, a glimmer of gratitude shining in her eyes as she kicked her feet. In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she murmured her thanks to you.

"So, you wanna tell me how you got hurt?"

"I don't know." This had been the most Luke had ever seen Penelope talk, and while her voice was still timid, the words slipping out hesitantly, she seemed to confide in you. "I woke up because my arm hurt."

"The cut was just there?" You asked, and when she nodded, you hummed sympathetically. "...I get those too, you know."

Penelope's eyes widened, "You do?"

"Yes," you affirmed with a soft chuckle. "A lot of people do. You get them from your soulmate. Did your mom ever tell you about soulmates?"

"Sometimes."

"Well, a long time ago, humans used to have four arms, four legs, and two faces," You explained.

"What?"

"I know, right? Super freaky. So freaky that Zeus decided to split them in half. So, now we have two arms, two legs, and one face."

"What happened to the other half?"

"That's our soulmate. Our other half. And Aphrodite gave us a gift to help us find our soulmate." The smile that had adorned your face slowly waned, "Every time you get hurt, your soulmate gets hurt too."

"Is that why you have a cut on your face?"

The question lingered, hanging in the air like a whispered secret. Luke held his breath, his gaze fixed on you, waiting for your response. But instead of answering, you reached out to Penelope, a bittersweet smile gracing your lips as you guided her off the counter.

"Let's get you back to your cabin."

Your words were gentle, a soft reassurance for Penelope's sake, but Luke could sense the undercurrent of sadness that ran beneath them. As you led Penelope away, Luke's heart ached in a way that felt so familiar yet foreign at the same time. It burned the same way it did when he returned from the quest when he hated the world and everyone in it, but this time, the only person he could find himself hating was himself.

He retreated from the door, clutching the stuffed animal in his hands. He felt a fleeting reminder of the times he would hide from the monsters with Thalia.

Luke's mind swirled with discordant emotions, each thought a whirlwind of uncertainty. He knew he didn't deserve your answer, didn't deserve the solace of your words. He had made it clear too many times to count that he never wanted a soulmate, never wanted you.

But despite his protests, despite the walls he had built around his heart, Luke couldn't deny the tug that pulled him to you, the hunger in his soul that refused to be ignored. It was a longing he couldn't shake, a yearning that whispered of a connection he dared not embrace. Knowing that keeping you away was the only way to protect you from the darkness that lurked within him was what kept him sane.

"Luke?"

The sound of his name tore Luke out of his thoughts like a violent gust of wind. He spun around, finding you standing on the porch to the kitchens, Penelope at your side. She held your hand, a small beacon of warmth and light in the dimness of the night.

It seemed too perfect, too surreal, and Luke couldn't help but feel a pang of disbelief. Were you trying to kill him? It had been too long since the last time he spoke to you, let alone stood so close to you, and here you were, the epitome of what a demigod should be, even if you were still in the dreaded bright orange camp shirt.

"Hey," he managed to say.

You continued to descend the stairs, each step cautious and deliberate. "What- uh, what are you doing up?"

"I was actually looking for Penelope." Luke motioned to the girl hiding behind your legs. When he caught her eye, Penelope grinned and let go of your hand, darting over to Luke and jumping into his arms. He lifted her easily, a small smile tugging at his lips as he handed her the stuffed toy she had left behind.

"Oh." You hummed, "I didn't know you're a Hermes kid?"

"I'm unclaimed," Penelope chimed.

"For now," Luke's voice was gentle as he held Penelope in his arms. "And what were you doing up?"

"I was looking for a bandaid. I got lost." Penelope's words were punctuated by a soft yawn, and she nestled her head against Luke's shoulder, her exhaustion evident in every movement.

You hesitated, your gaze shifting to meet Luke's. "I found her by the canoes... near the dock."

The silence that settled between you felt heavy, suffocating almost as if it threatened to engulf you both. Luke found himself wandering back to the memories of you waiting for him at the dock during the summer nights and the regret that weighed heavily on his heart for never approaching you. He remembered the countless times he stood among the trees, watching you from afar, paralyzed by his own insecurities and fears.

Were you waiting for him there tonight?

No, you couldn't have.

Guilt gnawed at him, threatening to consume him whole. "Listen, I-"

"I'm gonna go." You cut him off abruptly, your voice carrying a hint of tension. "Counsellor duties and all. I've got cabin checks in the morning so... you know, I gotta print papers... and stuff..."

Luke frowned at your lame excuse. "It's midnight."

"It's never too early to start now." You huffed defensively. "Bye, Penelope."

"Bye," Penelope mumbled sleepily, her hand lazily waving in your direction as you walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night and the trail leading to the Aphrodite cabin.

As they made their way back to the Hermes cabin, Luke held onto Penelope tightly, feeling the weight of her small body in his arms. The night air was cool against his skin, and he couldn't help but feel a pang of shame for the unease he noticed in you earlier. He wanted to say something, to bridge the gap that seemed to have formed between you, but the words remained trapped in his throat.

Once they returned to the warmth of their cabin, Luke moved with a careful grace, mindful not to disturb the sleeping campers around them. He gently placed Penelope back on her bed and tucked her in. But as he began to step away, her small hand shot out, wrapping around two of his fingers. Luke froze, eyes wide with surprise.

"Luke?" Penelope's voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the silence of the cabin like a knife.

"Yeah?" Luke's voice was equally quiet.

"I think your soulmate is really cool."

Penelope's words hung in the air, a simple statement that carried more weight than he could have ever anticipated.

Seven hours later, the memory of your face lingered in Luke's mind like an unshakeable ghost. Tossing back and forth in his bed, he tried to rid himself of the image, but it clung to him like a shadow. Each time he closed his eyes, your face flashed before him, haunting his thoughts. Even when he turned away, the spectre of Kronos lurked in the depths of his subconscious, a reminder of the choice that still loomed over him.

As morning broke over Camp Half-Blood, Luke found himself seated at the breakfast table, surrounded by the hustle and bustle of his fellow campers. Annabeth's presence brought a brief distraction.

She slid into the seat in front of him during breakfast and gave him a strange look, slightly out of breath from the morning rush, a half-eaten apple in hand.

"Hey," she greeted him, her voice carrying a note of concern. Pausing to tie back her braids, she studied him intently. "Who you looking for?"

Luke's response came too quickly, "No one," he replied, his voice strained. Thankfully, Chris had left earlier because he was in charge of the climbing wall in the morning, he wasn't there to tell Annabeth that Luke had been looking for you. His eyes scanned the sea of faces in the dining hall, a futile attempt to catch sight of you amidst the crowd. He felt pathetic. "What's up with you?"

Annabeth raised her brows. "Archery? Together? Remember? Or did you forget?"

"No. I didn't forget."

She only stared at him, skeptical.

"What?" he asked, "why do you keep looking at me like that?"

"Oh, I get it," Annabeth's smirk hinted at a newfound understanding, her eyes sparkling with amusement. She let out a laugh, the sound echoing through the dining hall, as she shook her head and rested her chin on her hand. "How long are you planning to keep this up for?"

Luke frowned, confused.

"This entire act you have with... you know," She didn't need to say your name for him to catch on. "It's getting out of hand, no?"

"I..." Caught off guard by her directness, Luke hesitated, unsure of how to respond. Choosing to play dumb, he feigned innocence. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Right." Annabeth's knowing look pierced through his facade. She was always too perceptive for her own good. Fixing him with a narrowed gaze, she gave him a playful kick under the table, the impact enough to draw a startled reaction from Luke. With a mischievous glint in her eyes, she took another bite of her apple before teasing him further. "Well, Grover said you're killing yourself."

"What?" He blinked at her, taken aback, "I'm not killing myself. Grover's just being dramatic."

"I don't think so." She said, slowly, carefully forming her words. "I mean, if I had a soulmate..."

Luke's defences bristled at the mention of soulmates, a topic he preferred to avoid. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm allowed to worry, "Annabeth reminded him, her words tinged with a gentle insistence. "Family, remember?"

The word 'family' carried weight, a reminder of their shared history and the bond they had forged over the years. It was a phrase Annabeth often employed to coax Luke out of his shell, to encourage him to confide in her. When they were younger, 'family' meant everything to Luke, thanks in no small part to Annabeth's influence.

"You don't need to worry," Luke assured her, though uncertainty gnawed at the edges of his resolve. "I know what I'm doing." But did he? Luke longed for the simplicity of a time before he met you when the idea of having a soulmate seemed like a distant fantasy. Now, every decision he made, every scar he bore, carried weight, knowing it could impact you in ways he couldn't comprehend.

"The least you can do is get to know her before she leaves."

Her words struck a chord within him, prompting Luke to cast a discreet glance around the dining hall, searching for you amidst the bustling crowd again.

"She's leaving?"

"Not forever, "Annabeth clarified with a chuckle, "Just on a quest. Search and rescue. Nothing fancy."

"...How do you know this?" he said after a moment.

"Chiron told me," Annabeth shrugged nonchalantly. "He also told me to tell you that the ceremony is tonight. I hope that doesn't kill you."

It did kill him a bit. At least, it felt like it did. Luke Castellan moved through camp with a sense of urgency, his strides purposeful yet tinged with a hint of apprehension. His fingers, calloused from years of wielding weapons, throbbed with a dull ache with the burn from the bow and arrow.

Shoulders tense, skin prickling under the relentless glare of the sun, he scanned the bustling campgrounds.

The weight of his bow rested heavily on his shoulder, the familiar weight offering a semblance of comfort amidst the chaos. With practiced precision, he counted the arrows in his quiver, his movements fluid and sure.

Then, he heard it—the sound that drew him like a siren's call. Your voice, lilting and laughter-filled, cut through the clamour of the camp, pulling him toward you like a magnet. There you stood, leaning against the doorway of the Hephaestus cabin, a clipboard clutched to your chest as you exchanged banter with Atticus, the skilled swordsmith whose craftsmanship had forged Luke's sword.

There was something different about you today, something delicate, more approachable than he had ever seen before. Last night, with Penelope, you had worn a similar expression—gentle, caring—but it was a side of you that Luke had never been privileged to witness. With him, you had always been guarded, reserved, as though afraid that he would cut or maim you.

As you scribbled something onto your clipboard, Luke found himself intrigued by the way your smile softened. It was a stark contrast to the confident facade you often wore, and for a moment, Luke felt a pang of guilt for pushing you away so soon.

Unbeknownst to you, you were drawing closer to Luke with each step, your path inexorably leading you toward him. Part of him craved to reach out, while another part hesitated, unsure of how to talk to you after all this time.

"Hey," Luke finally managed to utter as you drew near, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

You paused, a hint of surprise flickering across your features as you registered his presence. "Hi?" Your response was tentative, laced with a hint of confusion. After a moment's hesitation, you glanced down at your clipboard, "I'm not changing my rank on your cabin. I know three is low, but I was being generous."

A ghost of a smile tugged at Luke's lips. He was all too familiar with the chaotic nature of Cabin Eleven, where overcrowding was the norm and taking turns on the sleeping bags was treated as a game. "No, no. I just..." He trailed off, suddenly realizing he hadn't thought through the purpose of seeking you out. "I think we need to talk."

The confusion in your expression mirrored his own, and for a moment, there was a palpable sense of uncertainty hanging between you. "Talk?" you echoed.

Luke nodded, his gaze meeting yours earnestly. "Yes."

"You want to talk...? To me?"

"I hope it's not that bizzare."

He tried to smile for you, but it felt wrong. Luke couldn't shake the weight of unease that settled in the pit of his stomach. He knew all too well that he hadn't been the embodiment of an ideal soulmate. In his mind, there lingered a pervasive belief that you harboured nothing but hatred towards him, something that you made obvious with every interaction between you two.

He wondered if this was the way you felt during the days he avoided you.

Luke had noticed the shift. There was a calculated recklessness to your actions, a deliberate disregard for your own well-being that bordered on self-destructive. You stubbed your toe on roots and table legs, tugged too hard at your hair, and scraped your knees. You started to pull your punches while sparring with Clarisse, just enough to ensure that he felt the sting of every blow. You never blocked a hit in the face, a twisted satisfaction in the knowledge that your pain mirrored his own. Together, you would limp into the infirmary, bloodied and bruised where you'd be grinning far too wide, barely offering an ounce of guilt when Luke held ice to his face.

You lowered the clipboard from your chest, letting it rest against your side as you faced Luke. The warm rays of the sun filtered through the dense foliage above, casting dappled shadows that danced across your features and forced you to squint against the brightness. The noise of children's laughter and the sound of feet pounding against the earth filled the air.

Your voice cut through the noise, "You've made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me, Luke," you began, your words carrying the weight of unspoken hurt. "You can't blame me for being surprised."

As you began to walk toward the next cabin, Luke fell into step beside you, "Can you just give me a chance—"

"I think you're too late for that."

"I know, I just—" Luke's words faltered, his thoughts tumbling over one another in a desperate attempt to articulate his feelings.

"I have nothing to say to you," you declared abruptly, stopping in your tracks and turning to face him. Luke skidded to a stop just in time, his gaze meeting yours as you regarded him with a mixture of sadness and frustration. "Seriously. I understand, okay? Did I come on too strong? Maybe. Yeah, I'll admit that" you acknowledged, your expression softening slightly. "Maybe coming to you hours after your shit quest was stupid, but I gave you space when you asked—"

"I just wanted to wish you luck on your quest," Luke interrupted, his voice gentle yet tinged with a hint of remorse.

With a quiet "Oh," you stepped back, your eyes momentarily averting his gaze. Were you embarrassed? Were you disappointed? Did you want to fight?

"Sorry," you mumbled, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "Thanks. I'm, uh, I'm seeing the Oracle after this. So... not technically a quest yet."

"It's your first one, right?" Luke's voice softened, an unspoken understanding passing between them.

"If you're worried about getting another scar, don't worry, I doubt it's anything dangerous," you reassured him, though your words held a hint of hesitation. There was a fleeting moment where your gaze lingered on him as if expecting a sudden change in his demeanour, but Luke remained still, his expression unreadable. "I just need to find Eros and go from there."

"Eros?" Luke's pace slowed, curiosity dancing in his eyes as he raised his brows in interest. Yet beneath the surface, a seed of annoyance sprouted, tendrils of jealousy winding their way through his thoughts. Your quest sounded far more intriguing than his own, and a bitter brew of envy churned in the depths of his stomach. Despite his inner turmoil, he attempted to play it off with a forced chuckle. "Has Cupid gone missing?"

"Apparently," you muttered bitterly under your breath, the resentment palpable in your tone. Luke sensed the edge to your words, though he pretended not to notice.

You sighed, "Is this conversation going anywhere? I really need to finish these cabin checks. I'm busy enough as it is."

Your words held an unspoken plea for him to leave, and though Luke understood, a pang of disappointment nagged at him. He couldn't entirely blame you; after all, he'd been an ass for months.

Both of you hesitated just outside the door to cabin eight, and Luke could feel your eyes on him. When you began to step away, his hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. You froze, eyes wide with surprise.

“I also wanted to thank you,” He said, words rushing off his tongue.

“For what?” you asked.

“For last night.” He wasn't sure why he brought it up, why he felt like he needed you to know. "With Penelope."

"It was nothing," you said, voice barely audible. "We gotta look out for each other, right?"

Then, you left, you hurried up the short staircase to the cabin door, barely sparing him a glance before knocking. From his place, Luke could hear someone welcoming you into Artemis's cabin. He watched you until the door was shut behind you, vanishing you from his sight.

As the ceremony approached, the hues of twilight painted Camp Half-Blood in a golden glow, a serene yet foreboding atmosphere enveloping the surroundings. Luke's unease mounted with the setting sun, casting stretched-out shadows that seemed to carry something unnoticed. He couldn't shake the image of the figure from his nightmares, its monstrous visage haunting his thoughts with each passing moment. Yet, amidst the creeping darkness, there was an allure to the unknown, a temptation that beckoned him; its words, its promise of seeing the truth.

His gaze remained fixed on the white marble archway, half-expecting the nightmare to materialize at any moment, its twisted form emerging from the shadows with outstretched fingers. However, it was you who appeared, ascending the steps with graceful determination. Your presence seemed to dispel the shadows, bathing the surroundings in a radiant glow that eclipsed the fears that had once gripped Luke's heart. You were a blinding vice.

"Didn't think I'd see you here."

A sudden jab to his side sent him recoiling, a sharp pain shooting through his ribs. Luke winced, his gaze flickering to you as you flinched, subtly reaching for your own side. Quickly diverting his attention, he focused on the girl who had spoken.

Clarisse arched a brow at Luke, a smirk dancing on her lips. "Jumpy."

"Give him a break," Chris interjected, joining Luke's side and draping an arm over his shoulder. "Luke had a rough night, he lost a kid."

"Is that so?" Clarisse's grin widened. "And Chiron doesn't know? I'm assuming he doesn't otherwise, he wouldn't have picked you for this."

Luke scoffed and crossed his arms, "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Luke's arms crossed defensively. "I'm the best swordsman at camp."

Clarisse's sarcasm was palpable. "Oh, I don't doubt it. The most humble, too," she retorted, unfazed by his glare. "But let's face it, a search and rescue isn't exaclty your thing anymore. You're more of an action kind of guy. You live off the glory of victory. Chiron knows that."

She was right, Chiron did know that. Which was why he rarely requested Luke to stand in unless there was a catch. Then, the flames in the torches flickered to life, and silence enveloped the candidates. Each demigod chosen by Chiron swiftly took their place, standing tall and resolute by a marble pillar, eager to showcase themselves as the prime choice for the quest. Anything for Kleos. Anything for glory.

Chiron nodded, his gesture sharp and decisive, as he placed a firm hand on your shoulder before addressing the assembly.

"The Oracle has confirmed that this quest is a search and rescue," he stated, casting a brief, confident glance in your direction. "One where you will use all your best efforts to bring Eros back to the safety of Mount Olympus and restore the lost balance. I'm sure you know where to find him." His gaze then shifted to the rest of the candidates. "Here, I have selected some of our most compelling candidates from which you will choose one to join you on your quest, ensuring your success. Annabeth Chase, Atticus Brang, Chris Rodrigues, Clarisse La-"

As Chiron listed the candidates, you carefully evaluated your options, your eyes calculating. In the dim torchlight, Luke could just discern the thin line etched across your face, stretching from the end of your brow to your-

"I choose Luke."

The ensuing silence felt like something they could all drown in, leaving everyone stunned. Even Annabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise, though there was a glint of amusement in her eyes as she spotted Luke's bewilderment. Surely, he must have misheard. There couldn't possibly be any way you had chosen him, could there?

Chiron turned to you, his tone measured. "Are you sure?"

You never shifted your gaze from Luke, who refused to meet your eyes as he stared fixedly at the pillar across from him. Yet, the clenching of his jaw, whether from anger or annoyance or something else, was enough to elicit a satisfied smile from you.

"I'm sure," you affirmed.

taglist: @pleasingregulus , @weasleylovers , @telliette , @jarofshells , @jess-fae , @s0urw00lf , @srvbryn , @justanotherkpopstanlol , @coryoskywalker , @simplyjake , @girlyp-0-p , @aquangxl , @lovebug0 , @number-onekidqueen , @mxtokko , @patitotodd , @gloryekaterina , @simpforsunwoo , @ladyslytherin7 , @criesinlies , @mashiromochi , @quackitysdrugdealer , @jadahxx , @maraschinocherry3 , @trovailleangel , @daliscrim , @wicca-void , @girljakeperalta , @kurtcobaingirlie , @yourlocaldelusional , @elisa20beth , @lifeonawhim (lmk if you wanna be added <3 pls make sure ur tags on on! <3)

reblog to support your writers!

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maythearo · 5 months

Text

" Welcome back to Night Raven College's 'Ghostly Gossip'! The school's unofficial main online source for the latest news, articles and trending topics circulating around campus! "

" I'd usually describe this as a super exclusive entry, but who am I kidding? If you've spent more than five minutes in this school, you've already seen his shadows lurking around in the background at some point (I mean, he's like. super tall.) "

Navigation:

R. Rosehearts ▪︎ T. Clover ▪︎ C. Diamond ▪︎ A. Trappola ▪︎ D. Spade ▪︎ L. Kingscholar ▪︎ R. Bucchi ▪︎ J. Howl ▪︎ A. Ashengrotto ▪︎ J. Leech ▪︎ F. Leech ▪︎ K. Al Asim ▪︎ J. Viper ▪︎ V. Schoenheit ▪︎ R. Hunt ▪︎ E. Felmier ▪︎ I. Shroud ▪︎ O. Shroud ▪︎ M. Draconia ▪︎ L. Vanrouge ▪︎ S. Zigvolt ▪︎ Silver

Design notes:

Man I've been postponing this for so long, I don't even remember half of what my process with this one was like. But I concluded that if I don't post this now, the loss of my mental notes will only get worse with time, so here you go, putting this out there once and for all lol

For a general picture I wanted Malleus' vibes to be more fairy tale-like. (He ended up reminding me a bit of Faybelle too, in a way.) The colors of those iridescent black feathers go well with him, I think. And did someone mention Howl's moving castle? Yeah, Howl's monster form.

I got this one ask before, reccomending the Cockatrice monster for Malleus, and searching a bit about it, is apparently also often taken as a synonymous with the basilisk? So like, Wyvern meets Basilisk, but it is also giving fae, idk. Listen, the idea inside my head is like, if you're asked to imagine a mythical creature that roams around a dark forest, outside the castle of a cursed princess, it's him. He's the creature.

And I'll admit I have not been catching up with the Diasomnia's chapter :( so give me 50 years at least so I can make up some more in-depth lore for his MH au counterpart (or maybe I'll just read a resume out of the wiki). Malleus enjoyers are free to drop headcanons onto him, you guys' knowledge of his character are always so astronomical it never fails to impress me /gen

#.the ghostly gossip #my art #twst #twisted wonderland #twst fanart #malleus draconia #twst au #diasomnia #btw my clip studio trial has ended so I'm back on ibis paint for the text editing on the character intros so #if the font looks different that's why 👍

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ivyppoison · 2 months

Text

YOUR TEETH IN MY NECK

pairings. lando norris⠀𝒙⠀ influencer!ricciardo!fem!reader [ social media au ]

warnings. n/a

summary. where y/n ricciardo reveals she is dating an f1 driver, but no one takes her seriously at first

note. this is my first f1 smau, & honestly, these are so so SO fun to make. it’s in a completely different style to normal fics and it gives you a chance to search into the depth of pinterest ( future max: this took me the entire DAY. not entirely but i was editing, checking it & i spent a lot of time on this 😭 ) ♡♡ ── yours sincerely, maxine

face claim: lizeth selene

yourusername

♫ kali uchis ‧ after the storm

liked by lilymhe and 176,964 others

yourusername: your fav wags have been set loose

tagged: lilymhe

yourbestfriend: babes, hate to break it to you, but you’re not a wag

↳ yourusername: i’m not ?! ☹️

lilymhe: had the best time today ❤️

↳ alex_albon: am i just not important anymore ?

↳ yourusername: @alex_albon no, you’re not :3

user1: when did y/n become a wag? i’m pretty sure she is not dating a driver, or anyone for that matter. her brother would scare them away

↳ yourusername: please save me, daniel has me hostage

↳ user1: OMG SHE RESPONDED

↳ yourusername: 🫶🫶🫶

user2: perhaps she’s hinting at something but isn’t telling us what ( or who ) it is

↳ user3: maybe y/n is dating a driver, but which one ?

yourusername

liked by landonorris and 230,226 others

yourusername: to be, or not to be ( a wag ) that is the question. ( the third slide is a hint for a new upcoming vlog !! )

user6: lando ? what the hell are you doing here ?

landonorris: take that down 👺

↳ yourusername: “take that down ☝️🤓”

↳ landonorris: i won’t film the vid with you

↳ yourusername: good, i’ll change the locks if you ever change your mind

↳ user 7: lando has the keys to y/n’s house 😮

yourbestfriend: WHO’S THE MYSTERY MAN ??

↳ yourusername: it’s a secret 🤫 i’ll tell you soon

↳ yourbestfriend: TELL ME NOW

danielricciardo: i have an idea of who it is…

↳ yourusername: don’t tell anyone or I’ll disown you

↳ user7: I don’t think that’s how it works

↳ user8: @ user7 it’s y/n, she’ll make it work

user10

liked by yourusername and 1,822 others

user10: screenshots from y/n’s vlog & lando as her surprise guest !!!

user7: the way he looks at her 🥺

yourusername

♫ dominic fike ‧ how much is weed ?

liked by danielricciardo and 492,899 others

yourusername: you caught us :3

tagged: landonorris

yourbestfriend: is this a soft launch or a hard launch i don’t even know

↳ yourusername: it’s both 🫶

danielricciardo: I’m so happy for you guys

↳ yourusername: no you’re not, there’s no need to lie

landonorris: look how beautiful my girlfriend is

↳ lilymhe: i know right? She’s gorgeous

↳ yourusername: love you so much lily :3

user11: y/n is officially both a wag and a sag :3

↳ user4: been here since her sag days

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sketchalicious · 9 months

Text

doomed au timeline thing? idrk

uhh okay so . i saw that the doomed au kinda popped off n i figured i'd go into a bit more depth for fun so i doodled out this crappy comic thing. i think i saw a homestuck comic do something similar LOL.

im gonna give like. aftermath of the ninja's deaths and such for the sake of clarity , since i know this is just an angsty clusterbump.

Kai: The real ignition for Lloyd's downfall. The staff was destroyed moments before the transformation ritual by the green ninja himself. In Lloyd's mind, his friend would return to normal. But he was met with something else as Kai desperately took the shards and ran away instead, too far gone into his ego and insanity. Returning home they remain the same in quantity, with Lloyd and Nya heartbroken, and Zane blaming himself.

Cole: He acted as the stable rock of the group. He brought the ninja back to their high spirits again, acting as a replacement flame for Kai to reunite his team. He even began the trend of looking for the missing ninja, with hope they were still out there. Yet despite being the very reason they stabilized, no one seemed to realize he disappeared. Instead they suddenly felt lost, like they were missing something. The grief returned, and the dots never connected.

Zane: His disappearance set the team on course for failure. With him, Asphera never explained where she had banished him, and the others were left to believe he was really, truly gone this time. He acted as the caretaker for the group, tying them together once more as he tried to bring back the joy they lost through menial tasks and the small details of the world. Even back to when Kai disappeared, Lloyd could be a leader with his help. With the last light in the tunnel gone, no one had any more confidence to step up.

Nya: Jay and Lloyd's breaking point. Without her, they lost their drive to keep searching. Her disappearance plays the same as canon, becoming one with the sea. Though she was less hesitant now, understanding that this was just fate, that the team wasn't meant to survive. If that was the case, she'll go out with a bang, knowing that with her gone they would understand too. At least she knew they would be safe for now.

Lloyd: His disappearance happened long after he recognized his Oni form. After having to fight the overlord alone, he went on a downwards spiral. Jay couldn't be there, and frankly, Wu couldn't get through to him like Garmadon did. Lloyd hated the idea of fate. He felt too, like Nya, that the team wasn't meant to last. As such, in his last effort to feel control, he caved into what came easy.

Pixal: Like Zane did in canon after Nya, she turned off her emotion meter. She knew some of the ninja could be saved, and she knew she had to stop grieving in order to even try. In a frustrated effort, she attempted to bring the ninja to her level, only to blame herself for Lloyd's snap. After realizing she couldn't do much for a grieving Jay, she leaves to find the others.

Jay: Who knows where he is. Wu entered his quarters to find only a pair of nunchaku, and his gi laying on his pillow. Maybe he joined Pixal, maybe he existed as a criminal like Lloyd now. All Wu knew is he lost his last student and the last defender of Ninjago. It's likely Jay quit, afraid of becoming next in fate's cruel hand. He'd only learn after the merge.

okay thats it lmao. i might add more ideas in the future but im not creative enough to plot it out properly gO NUTS

#i know the proportions are weird #im not even joking i drew every 'panel' with variations of tiredness #i know their legs are long #my hand is just quirky like that. mettaton core #ninjago #ninjago kai #ninjago zane #ninjago jay #ninjago cole #ninjago pixal #ninjago lloyd #ninjago doomed au #ninjago au #also. i wanna point out that jay has more significance in this au than im letting on haha i just dont feel like writing it really

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bunji-enthusiast · 3 months

Note

Hello again! I am that Anon that requested the Reader is a Smiling Critter and blah blah, I need more and thank you for making these, my heart is filled <3

This is gonna be quite detailed, feel free to change it!

Note: This might be a lil ooc or perhaps more of an AU?? Ah yes, Dogday's legs aren't gone, still attached just for the sake of the nature of the dynamics here.

The reader is a Smiling Critter once again, they had a dream about their old friends ( ex: Smiling Critters or maybe the other toys ). After they woke up in tears, soon they decided to go around the factory in hopes of finding the mini toy versions of their old friends, something to hopefully lessen the ache in their heart. Yeah, they also forgot to tell Catnap where they went and uh the living mini toys noticed their absence and reported it to Catnap 💀

Catnap ain't happy about it, he finishes up whatever he was doing and went on to find the Reader himself ( we're special jk- ). Later, he finally found them, whatever he felt at that time came to halt as he saw the Reader sitting down on the floor, in a pile of toy versions of their old friends, HIS old friends, their old friends, silently weeping to themselves. Without a second thought, he curled up around the reader, patting their head as if to silently reassure them it'll be okay, Catnap was actually genuine about it though the reader knew that it's not that simple ( with the whole prototype and how Catnap just listens to him 💀 ). But in their sadness and loneliness, they let their guard down and sink into the giant cat's affection, feeling nostalgic as they remember they always used to do this during naptime, with THEIR old friends.

After the reader fell into a deep sleep, Catnap decided to just stay where they were even with second thoughts in his mind, in this very moment, the old Catnap is back, not the one that follows the Prototype like a lost puppy. The Catnap his old friends know, the one Dogday knows, the one Reader knows. But he snapped back to his senses, deciding to rest his head on top of the Reader's in order to shutdown all those thoughts, purring while at it. This is ALL FOR THEM, FOR JUSTICE, TO END THE MADNESS, the Prototype promised him.

.....

Dogday is silent as he listens to his " former " friend talk about the events that occured a few hours ago. Catnap has decided to visit Dogday, free him from the belts to eat the food he brought. Dogday silently took the food and ate them as he listens Catnap's talk, understandably hesitant to butt in. It was more than weird, Catnap changed so suddenly and drastically, but recently he was softer, more like the old Catnap, albeit still threatening.

" Dogday... " That made the giant dog snapped out of his thoughts upon hearing his name, his eyes met with Catnap's. Before letting out a surprised yelp as the cat pounced on him, Dogday was terrified for his fate until he felt long arms curled around him. Catnap was hugging him tightly. Read that again. Hugging him. The so-called heretic. Dogday now knows what his friend ( Reader ) felt when Catnap helps them get back to sleep.

This is the Catnap they knew, the actions speak louder than words one, he wasn't truly gone after all.

Night Befallen

Note || I cast brain rot upon ye 🤲

WC || 1,384

Sypnosis || Maybe, just maybe knowing what one can know now—your old friend isn’t entirely stolen away from you.

You had found yourself immersed in a poignant dream, revisiting cherished memories of old friends. Awaking with tears lingering on your lashes, you felt an insistent pull to embark on a heartfelt quest. Determined to reconnect with the essence of your past, you resolve to venture into the depths of the factory, in search of the miniature toy replicas of your beloved originals. With each step forward, anticipation intertwined with nostalgia, guiding your path through the echoes of your cherished history.

You just wished things had truly stayed the same, why did it all happen before–this, Hour of Joy–whatever it had been. CatNap, the same cat you came to cherish and love had been completely twisted, viewing Prototype as a god?

It just made no sense to you, everything is madness.

For now, perhaps you could absolve in finding peace with your recreational little toys, shadows of former friends they may be of course.

“Tch-” You snorted, trying to keep yourself from breaking down in the face of your tiny little friends that are piling up around you. Just like all the old times before, the times… before. All the tiny smiling critters were just plain adorable though, so that was advantageous.

Beyond the shadows, some creeping figures watching you took notice of your absence. No, not in CatNap’s home, nothing goes one without CatNap knowing of anything.

A small critter skittered away, you didn’t notice—you were far in too deep to properly take recognition of anything happening, only mourning your former friends. Who knew trying to take a look at the essences of your past, a past of once where you were happy, content. You were just doing your job as a fellow critter, you loved your job. You loved being a critter, you loved your friends.

“You guys are so cute..” You smile softly, hugging them close in spite of the few stray tears streaming down your face. Normally, you’d wipe them away, but right now you just wanted to stay in the moment.

Stay with all your old friends, even if they weren’t your real ones.

You could be allowed the peace of illusion, atleast.

To say he was furious was an understatement, what had the tiny critter meant by your absence?

In CatNap’s eyes, this was unacceptable.

One should remain where they are, they are not to derail from their paths. You shouldn’t be derailing from your path. No matter the reason, he will quickly finish his patrolling, and come straight to you to put you in your place. Mostly, being stern.

Should he allow you that courtesy? Yes, CatNap should. You are his old friend, you were so kind as to work with the Prototype (even if you were completely against it), CatNap will be lenient with you.

Suddenly CatNap had gotten lost in thought, and lifted his paw to see what he was doing. Oh yes, he was killing a human survivor for their incompetence – that is what was happening. He repeatedly shook his paw to get the remains of the human off his claws and paw as well, the blood remained on his fur unfortunately. CatNap can find some way to clean that off later.

As if he was sighing, CatNap’s mouth emitted a large breath of Poppy Gas, something of which he used sparsely; only when he wanted to block out people from areas he didn’t want them in. CatNap admittedly felt as if what he was doing here was wrong, but it was only in the name of the Prototype.

CatNap finally went on his way once he cleared his head of these troubling thoughts, he was going to deal with you and he wouldn’t delay it any longer.

He always had eyes all around Playcare, did you really think you could get away with this so easily? Prototype is leader, god. He would not allow anyone to defile Prototype’s name, not even you.

No matter, he was going to make this quite clear.

It seemed the small smiling critters had felt his immense aura for bloodlust, causing them to skitter away from whence he came. CatNap without a shadow of a doubt, can be terrifying.

CatNap simply paid no mind, and continued on making his way toward you.

Even in all the rubble and dust, one clear distinction his keen ears could pick up was reminiscent of crying. To the normal ear, one would not be able to hear this. It was so silent, was it out of a fear that you were crying so silently?

No, it was because of the smiling critters, the smaller bodies. Merely replicas, but so well done for just being copies of the original critters. Shadows always danced in CatNap’s headspace, perhaps he could make it out the same within your case. He had always crossed his heart, locking it away in soul and key. CatNap deemed it all unnecessary. Yet, with you it was recurring.

Slowly enough, whatever emotions – whatever anger he had before was fading away. CatNap was overcome with a sense of sympathy, he wanted to comfort you, his friend. Now he just came to a complete halt, trying to figure out what was wise on what to do.

CatNap felt pitiful, sounding low when he remembered those very screams.

You have seen just as much as he did.

Hesitantly, he stepped forward, CatNap didn’t want to frighten you out of your stupor. His long elongated tail wrapped around your being, calmly re-adjusting you with a steady stance. CatNap laid down, folding his back legs and crossing his front ones. He so suddenly cuddled up against you, patting your head to reassure you silently.

You nodded your head, snapping to the attention of CatNap’s presence. You knew otherwise that he wasn’t being as genuine, in spite of it being real in his eyes.

Otherwise, you didn’t feel as on guard. You weren’t stressed or protesting in any case, you felt as if you were falling asleep. You began to fall asleep, CatNap sensed this, curling up against you to feel more comfortable.

That was in your sadness and loneliness, had sleep finally claimed you – purely out of nostalgia that you had used to do this during naptime, with your old friends.

Abornormally enough, he didn’t feel so angry. CatNap felt more as if he was at peace with you, even with these thoughts. How the Prototype had promised him justice, to end all the madness, just for you… for all of them.

In a moment soon enough, CatNap had promptly followed you into sleep.

If death was a choice, then he rejects it.

Silent and contemplative, DogDay listened as his "former friend" recounted the recent events, memories of comforting you when tears flowed and offering solace in the embrace of sleep. CatNap's unexpected visit and the subsequent act of liberation from his restraints were met with wary acceptance as DogDay consumed the offered sustenance, his attention captured by CatNap's unusual demeanor.

It was a peculiar sight, witnessing CatNap revert to a semblance of his former self amidst the oppressive atmosphere of their surroundings. Despite the underlying threat that lingered in CatNap's presence, there was a glimmer of familiarity in his actions, stirring a sense of unease within DogDay's battered psyche.

“This isn’t his usual behavior,” or “He’s just now had a revelation?”

Lost in his thoughts, DogDay was abruptly pulled back to reality by the mention of his name, a sharp reminder of the precariousness of his situation. Anticipation coiled within him as CatNap lunged forward, bracing for the inevitable retribution that awaited him. Yet, to his astonishment, instead of aggression, he was enveloped in an unexpected embrace.

Stunned and bewildered, DogDay felt the weight of CatNap's arms around him, a gesture of affection that defied all expectations. In that fleeting moment of connection, DogDay experienced a revelation, a glimpse into the profound bond shared between you and CatNap, a bond forged amidst the chaos and strife of your shared existence.

As the echoes of their encounter lingered in the air, DogDay found himself grappling with newfound understanding. The warmth of CatNap's embrace, though fleeting, offered a glimpse of redemption amidst the shadows of his past transgressions. And in that moment, DogDay realized the profound impact of companionship, transcending the boundaries of fear and prejudice.

#poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #poppy playtime dogday #catnap poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #poppy playtime #x reader

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yeonzzzn · 10 days

Note

jay au where y/n is also an idol and they have a situationship and they always do tiktok challenges together and when jay recorded a challenge with other idol y/n is like OHHHHH SO YOU *TALK* WITH OTHER GIRLS? and is sooooo jealous (literally me in my silly little delulu head cause wdym jay talks with other ppl???)

NO BC I AM IN LOVE WITH THIS CONCEPT‼️‼️such a cute idea!

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

it’s just a tiktok challenge

paring: jay x afab!reader word count: 1.6k

You didn’t know what was worse:

1: Your situationship with Jay or 2: The fact that this situationship with Jay is a secret.

You obviously didn’t understand how the world didn’t already know the two of you are more than just friends. Mostly since anytime there’s a new TikTok challenge, you were always the first person Jay called and vice versa.

Of course, Jay used the challenges as one of the excuses to see you out in public. To drag you to whatever good spot for the challenge and have it secretly be a date afterward.

Being idols has made it hard for the two of you to officially slap a label on whatever it is that your relationship is. Jay was your best friend and you were his, so obviously when the two of you are seen in public together or doing the TikTok challenges no one bats an eye at it. And anytime either of you has been confronted on whether it’s more than friends, you both deny everything.

It sucked, truly. To keep the situationship such a secret.

Jay felt the same way. He hated having to find ways to sneak you into the dorms or sneak into yours just to have a quick fuck or spend as much time with you as possible in a way that the public eye wouldn’t know anything. All Jay wanted to do was scream from the rooftops about how in love with you he was. And the only way he knew how to voice that was through this situationship and the TikTok challenges.

He’d always sneak glances at you while doing the challenge, as in a way of hoping you’d see it. Jay knew you had feelings for him too, you’ve both discussed your feelings, just not in depth.

Both are so in love with each other but neither of you knew it. Thinking it was just a small crush mixed with friends with benefits and acting innocent when the cameras are on.

Sometimes you’d both risk getting caught, having a quick make-out session behind the stages or stairs or closet or wherever Jay was able to pin your body against him. Just to get his fix of you before having to go back to pretending.

It’s award show season and all the idols are gathered in one place, taking selfies and videos, going on Instagram lives together, and of course; TikTok challenges.

Jay searched the sea of idols for you, constantly checking his phone to see if you’ve texted him, but have yet to hear from you.

Sunghoon nudges Jay’s side, teasing him about you and Jay flips him the bird, “Shut up! Don’t speak too loud.”

Of course, his group knew about the two of you, and the same with your group. Who else was going to help film the challenges and sneak you both in and out of your company buildings and dorm rooms?

Jay slides his hands into his pockets, releasing a sigh as he continues to search for you, only for Chaewon to pop up at his side, “Jay! Want to do our new choreography dance challenge with me? Please!”

She clung to his arm, smiling at him. Jay shrugged, smiling back, “Sure why not! How about in the hallway? It’s got pretty good lighting.”

Chaewon agreed, asking Sunghoon to film the challenge. Sunghoon took a smirking glance at Jay and agreed.

Jay didn’t do challenges without you. It was always you or the members he did them with. So this was the first time since before meeting you that he’d do a challenge with another idol.

They filmed the dance challenge, then Jay offered Chae to do their comeback title challenge too, to which she agreed.

Your group arrived a bit late but still just in time. You smoothed out your white cropped tank top and double-checked your fishnet tights underneath your white jeaned shorts, your group was set to perform early on into the show, so you all showed up already ready.

“He already thinks you’re sexy, YN, stop fidgeting with your outfit,” one of your elder bandmates teased, pinching your cheek, “You’re cute, he knows it.”

You couldn’t lie and say you were just trying to make sure the outfit was okay, mostly when in reality you were hoping Jay’s jaw would drop at the sight of you.

You released a sigh, looking out around the stage and the sea of people, trying to find him. You found his group, seeing all the boys huddled together and laughing at something Jake was showing them on his phone, but Jay wasn’t there, Sunghoon was also missing.

You glanced more around the crowd, finally eyeing the two boys and Chaewon walking back to their seats. You watched as Jay and Sunghoon gave her a smile and nod before parting ways, reuniting with their groups, and seeing Jay pull his phone from his pocket.

Pulling your phone from your back pocket, you went to his messages, typing out that you could see him and comment how handsome he looked, only to be distracted by another notification on TikTok: Enhypen posted a video!

You smiled and clicked the notification, expecting it to be something silly Jay and Sunghoon just filmed, only for your smile to slowly drop at seeing Chaewon by Jay’s side.

As if on cue, you received a text from Jay.

Jay: Where are you? I want to see you before you perform. I bet you look so pretty :(

You locked your phone and ignored his message.

Jealousy wasn’t a normal emotion for you. You haven’t had to ever feel it, really. Yes, there were *small* moments but it wasn’t ever anything major. Until today.

Your group was finally called to perform, your headsets and equipment being handed to each of your group members and being escorted to the stage.

The performance was three song lengths long, and you kept your smile the entire time, only making eye contact with Jay once, trying your best to keep your eyes everywhere but at him.

Once the performance was over, your group headed to a changing room. You glanced down at your phone, seeing multiple texts.

Jay: god you look so good Jay: <3 <3 <3 <3 Jay: those fishnets are killing me YN Jay: meet me at the stairs the moment you see these Jay: fuck the things I want to do to you right now.

You thinned your lips in a line, debating to either ignore him or go to him.

You went to him.

You had barely pushed the door open to the stairs and took two steps down before Jay had his hands on your waist, lifting you off the stairs and pinning you to the wall, his lips crashing to yours.

His hand trailed down to your thighs, pushing his fingers between the strings of your fishnets and squeezing the plush skin, “Fuck you’re so hot,” he whispered between kisses, shoving his tongue down your throat and rocking his growing hard length against your tummy.

You placed your hands on his shoulders, slightly pushing him back from you so you could catch your breath, resting your head against the wall.

It took one look at your face for Jay to realize something was wrong. Normally you’d be jumping his bones at this moment, but you’re clocked out and far away from here, far from him.

He cupped your face, resting his forehead against yours, “What’s wrong, honey?”

You sighed, pouting your lips and moving your head away from his and his hands, “Oh, nothing.”

Jay took a step back from you, raising a brow, “That attitude says otherwise.”

You crossed your arms, slouching against the wall, “What reason would I have to be upset, Jongseong?”

He stared at you, running through every possible thing that could be upsetting you and then it finally clicked.

Jay smirks, placing both his hands on either side of your face, “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

You weren’t shocked that Jay figured it out so quickly, he knew you inside and out.

You shrugged, looking away from him.

Jay pressed his body back against yours, bringing his face close to yours, brushing his lips against your ear, “You’re so hot when you’re jealous.”

He nibbles on the shell of your ear and you bite your tongue to keep from whimpering, “I am not jealous.”

Jay traces his lips down to your neck, “Baby, it’s just a TikTok challenge.”

You scoff, “So you talk with other girls then?”

“You are so jealous,” he chuckles against your neck, “Chaewon and I are under the same company, I can do challenges with her.” You tried to push him away again, but his body held firm against yours.

You pouted more and tried to hold yourself together from exploding out your emotions.

“Baby,” he whispered, moving his face back to yours, once again cupping your face, “You’re the one that I want, okay? I love you. I want you. There’s no need to be jealous over a TikTok challenge. There’s still so much more I can do with you.”

You stared into his brown eyes, “You love me?”

He chuckled, “Of course I do.”

You felt stupid for being jealous, mostly when Jay is allowed to have other friends to do challenges with. You felt stupid for being jealous when he was in love with you. How silly you felt as you curled your lips into a small.

“There’s that smile I love,” he smiled back, rubbing his thumbs against your cheeks, “Now,” he went back into a whisper, sliding his hands down to your ass, “I have about thirty minutes before my group is called to perform, let’s make it count, ya?”

You attach your lips to his, your hands working at his belt.

At least to say, you both made every second of that thirty minutes count.

— perm taglist: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @kangnina @jwnghyuns @in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi @eneiyri @sparklovespink @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty @ladyartemesia @psh9 @cmoundiamante @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez @belowbun @jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @pockettwinzz @vixialuvs @seunghancore

#yeonzzzn asks #jay bae #jay park #park jay #jongseong park #park jongseong #reader x jay #jay x reader #park jongseong x reader #reader x park jongseong #enhypen #enhypen x reader #reader x enhypen #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #yeonzzzn writing

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ijustmissyouraccenths · 3 days

Text

The Alchemy

AU where Harry is the star quarterback at his college and y/n is an English major.

Based very loosely off The Alchemy by Taylor Swift

CW: Smut

Word Count: 6,871

Leaving my family to go to University was a bittersweet decision. My heart tugged at the thought of being away from them, but my passion for mastering the art of English pulled me towards my dream. My family had always been my biggest supporters and I wanted to make them proud by becoming an English professor. This meant leaving behind my comfortable life in a small suburban town in Florida to study abroad at one of the most prestigious universities. The campus was nestled in the very heart of where literary greats had once roamed and created their masterpieces. It was as if the walls exuded inspiration and creativity, urging me to chase after my dreams with even more fervor. Though I missed my family dearly, I knew that this journey would lead me to become the best version of myself and honor their unwavering support and love.

It was a whirlwind of experiences as I made my way through the unfamiliar streets. The currency conversion was a constant challenge, with every transaction feeling like a game of guesswork. And then there was the driving - on the opposite side of the road no less - which required all of my concentration to avoid any mishaps. But perhaps most daunting of all was the non-stop partying at pubs, a culture shock for someone like me who had grown up in a small town in America.

Thankfully, I was able to find a flat that was within walking distance from the school, and even luckier to have another American girl as my roommate. Mia was a sweet, bubbly girl from the middle of nowhere Kansas, embracing every aspect of British culture including the pub scene and the charming local lads.

Living with Mia meant constantly having people over, and it seemed like every night brought new faces into our home. I didn't mind too much, mostly enjoying the lively atmosphere and meeting new people. However, there were definitely some moments that tested my patience, like when one of Mia's friends named Arthur ended up getting sick and leaving his mark in our kitchen. Despite these occasional hiccups, I was grateful for this experience abroad and all the unique encounters it brought my way.

Though Mia's social butterfly nature could be trying at times, I appreciated her warm companionship in this foreign place. It was on one such night, after we had cleaned up the remnants of Arthur's ill-fated escapades, that we found ourselves cozied up with mugs of tea and watching the rain patter against the windows.

Mia was unusually pensive as she stared out into the drizzly Manchester night. "You know," she began softly, "sometimes I wonder if I'm chasing the wrong dreams. My parents wanted me to become a doctor or lawyer, something stereotypically successful, but I just wanted adventure. Now here I am, living it up in England, but it all feels...empty, like I'm still searching for meaning."

I nodded thoughtfully, sensing the vulnerability in her words. Though Mia put on a bubbly facade, there was more depth to her than met the eye.

"I think the great thing about being here is that we have time to figure it all out," I offered gently. "We're writing our own stories, not just following someone else's script."

Mia smiled, some of the spark returning to her eyes. "You're right. That's exactly why I love being here with you."

As the rain continued to drum against the windows, Mia and I sat in comfortable silence for a moment, each lost in our own thoughts. Finally, Mia turned to me with a curious expression.

"Do you ever have doubts about your dreams, too?" Mia asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

I considered her question for a moment before responding, "All the time. Sometimes I wonder if I'm on the right path or if I'm just going through the motions."

Mia nodded understandingly, her eyes reflecting the shimmer of uncertainty. "It's scary, isn't it? The idea that we might wake up one day and realize we've been chasing a dream all along."

I placed a comforting hand on Mia's shoulder. "It is scary, but it's also part of the journey. We're allowed to question and evolve along the way."

She smiled weakly, her gaze drifting back to the rain-splattered window. "I guess that's what makes life interesting, right? The uncertainty of it all."

Our conversation was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. Mia got up to answer it, revealing a group of our friends who had decided to brave the rainy night for an impromptu gathering.

"Come in, come in!" Mia exclaimed cheerfully, ushering everyone inside. The room quickly filled with laughter and chatter as our friends settled in.

As I looked around the group, my eyes landed on a few familiar faces who have crossed paths with me several times before. Among them was Arthur, a friendly face that always brought a sense of comfort and familiarity. As everyone piled into the room, my gaze wandered to him - Harry Styles, the renowned quarterback of our school's football team. I couldn't help but feel a tinge of excitement at being in the presence of such a well-known athlete. When I first arrived from the United States, I had assumed the term "football" referred to what we call soccer back home. But as I soon discovered, American Football was just as beloved and popular in the UK.

Harry noticed me looking his way and met my gaze. There was an intensity in his green eyes that made me quickly avert my own, focusing instead on my friend Grace who was animatedly sharing a story next to me.

I tried to tune into her words, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the handsome footballer across the room. By all accounts, Harry was cocky, brash, and a bit of a player. And yet, I couldn't deny there was something magnetic about him. He carried himself with a self-assured swagger, his athletic frame filling out his clothes in a way that betrayed his strength.

I scolded myself internally. Just because he's nice to look at doesn't change the fact that he seems like an arrogant jock. Still, when our eyes met again, I felt a flutter in my stomach I couldn't ignore.

Harry said something to his friend that made the group erupt into laughter. He flashed a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners. I quickly looked away once more, but the image of his smile lingered in my mind.

Get it together, I told myself sternly. Harry is off-limits. With his reputation, getting involved would only lead to trouble. I turned my focus back to Grace, pushing all thoughts of Harry's eyes, smile and broad shoulders out of my head.

For the rest of the night, I avoided looking in Harry's direction, though I could feel his gaze on me periodically as the hours wore on. By the time people started trickling out, I felt certain I had avoided any direct interaction with the dashing footballer.

That is, until I went to lock the door behind the last guest and found him standing there. He flashed that crooked smile again as he leaned against the door frame. "See you around, Y/N," he said, holding my gaze for a moment before disappearing into the night. I stood frozen, my heart racing as I replayed those five simple words in my head.

As I stood there in shock at Harry's unexpected presence, I couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions swirling inside me. His parting words echoed in my mind, leaving me slightly breathless and unsure of what to make of the situation. Gathering my composure, I locked the door behind him and turned to find Mia watching me with a knowing smile.

"Looks like someone caught your eye, Y/N," Mia teased, nudging me playfully. "Harry Styles, huh? Quite the charmer."

I flushed slightly at her comment, trying to brush off any implications. "Oh, come on, Mia. It's not like that," I deflected, hoping to downplay the significance of the moment.

But Mia wasn't convinced. "Sure, sure," she replied with a wink. "Just remember, not all that glitters is gold."

Her words lingered in my mind as I bid her goodnight and retreated to my room. Sitting on my bed, I couldn't shake off the image of Harry's smile or the way he had looked at me in that brief moment by the door. The conflicting thoughts swirled in my head, leaving me restless and contemplative.

The following day at school, as I made my way through the bustling halls, I noticed a familiar figure leaning against the lockers up ahead. It was Harry, his usual confident demeanor on full display as he chatted with his friends. As our eyes met briefly, he flashed a grin in my direction before turning back to his conversation.

Feeling a surge of boldness, I approached him tentatively. "Hey, Harry," I greeted him, trying to keep my tone casual despite the flutter in my stomach.

"Hey there, Y/N," he responded with a smirk, his green eyes twinkling mischievously. "Didn't think you'd show up here again so soon."

I felt my cheeks flush at his words. Clearly he was referring to my abrupt exit last night after our brief encounter at the door. I scrambled to think of a clever response.

"Well, we do go to the same school," I pointed out, trying to keep my voice light despite the nerves I felt.

Harry chuckled, crossing his arms over his broad chest as he regarded me with amusement.

"True enough," he conceded. "But I got the sense you were trying to avoid me last night. Did I make you nervous?"

His bluntness took me aback. I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Harry's eyes danced with mirth at my flustered state.

"Cat got your tongue?" He teased.

I took a steadying breath, determined not to let him get the best of me. "You wish," I retorted, hoping the bravado in my voice sounded more convincing than I felt.

Harry laughed, a rich warm sound that made my knees weak. Our eyes locked and in that moment, it was like the noisy hallway melted away and there was only the two of us.

"Feisty. I like it," he murmured. Before I could respond, the warning bell rang, snapping us both back to reality.

"See you around, Y/N," Harry said with a wink before disappearing into the swarm of students heading to class.

My body froze in place, heart thudding against my ribs as I gazed at the infamous Harry. He exuded an undeniable air of trouble, and yet, as our charged banter replayed in my mind, I couldn't deny the adrenaline pumping through my veins. With a determined stride, I made my way to class, refusing to let this boy be the cause of my tardiness.

I took a seat in my Studies of Shakespeare class, the one subject I truly loved. The works of William Shakespeare never failed to captivate me, and if you could understand the Elizabethan lingo, his witty humor shone through brilliantly. Unfortunately, this particular teacher seemed to have a talent for draining all the life and humor out of these masterpieces.

I tried to focus as the professor droned on about the themes in Romeo and Juliet, but my mind kept wandering back to my encounter with Harry. Something about our charged banter had awakened feelings in me that I didn't quite understand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a folded piece of paper land on my desk as if taken out of a scene from a movie. I looked around furtively before opening it. In an unfamiliar scrawling handwriting it read:

"What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun." - H

I felt a thrill run through me and quickly tucked the note into my bag before the professor could notice. So Harry was in this class too? I scanned the room subtly until I spotted him a few rows behind me. He caught my eye and gave me a roguish wink.

I turned back to the front, trying to ignore the simmering exhilaration I felt. Over the next few days, the notes kept coming during Shakespeare class, each with a quote or two from the Bard himself. They were usually cheeky and flirtatious, hinting at some blossoming rapport between us.

I found myself anticipating each one, my heart skipping a beat when I would spot a new folded note on my desk. Our eyes would meet across the room, a hidden smile just between us.

After class one day, as I gathered my things, I sensed Harry approach my desk. "So when's our study session?" he asked nonchalantly, though there was a glint of something more in his eyes. I hesitated, knowing I should keep my distance, yet unable to deny I was intrigued.

I nervously tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, trying to appear nonchalant. "Well, I don't know... I've heard you're not the most dedicated studier," I teased, giving him a playful smile.

Harry chuckled, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Oh, but that's where you're wrong. I may not look like it, but I'm quite the Shakespeare aficionado," he replied with a grin.

I raised an eyebrow in skepticism. "Is that so? Well, I suppose we could arrange a study session... if you can prove your expertise," I challenged, a hint of challenge in my tone.

His grin widened, accepting the challenge. "Consider it done. How about we meet at the library tomorrow after school?" Harry suggested, his gaze unwavering.

I hesitated for a moment, the thrill of anticipation coursing through me. "Alright, it's a date then," I agreed, feeling a rush of excitement at the prospect of spending more time with him.

As the final bell rang, signaling the end of the school day, Harry flashed me one last grin before disappearing into the bustling hallway. My heart raced with both nervousness and exhilaration as I packed up my belongings, eager for our upcoming study session.

The following day at the library, I found myself anxiously scanning the room for Harry. My pulse quickened when I spotted him sitting at a table in the corner, a stack of Shakespearean plays spread out in front of him.

I made my way over to him, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement swirling inside me. "Ready to impress me with your Shakespeare knowledge?" I asked with a teasing smile as I took a seat across from him.

Harry flashed me a charming grin. "Just watch and learn," he said confidently, picking up a copy of Romeo and Juliet and flipping to a random page.

As he began to recite lines from the play with passion and flair, I couldn't help but be captivated by his enthusiasm. His eyes lit up as he delved into each line, bringing the centuries-old words to life in a way that was both mesmerizing and captivating.

By the time our study session ended, I found myself completely enthralled by Harry's interpretation of Shakespeare's works. As we gathered our things to leave, he turned to me with a twinkle in his eye, he knew a lot more about the works than he let on to.

Harry turned to me, “So now that I’ve shown you i’m smart, I know Shakespeare, when are you coming to one of my games?” he asked confidently.

I was taken aback by his forward invitation. Attending one of his football games felt intimate in a way that made me nervous.

"Oh, um, I don't know..." I fumbled over my words, suddenly feeling shy.

Harry tilted his head, giving me a crooked smile. "Come on, it'll be fun. I'll even give you a personal tour of the field afterwards," he joked.

I bit my lip, considering it. There was no denying I felt drawn to him, despite trying to keep my distance. And the thought of seeing him command the field sent a little thrill through me.

"Alright, I suppose I could stop by," I finally conceded, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear self-consciously.

Harry's face lit up. "Brilliant! Our next game is on Friday. I'll leave a ticket for you at will call," he said eagerly.

I nodded, butterflies taking flight in my stomach. "Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then," I replied softly.

Harry gave me a dazzling smile and I felt my knees go weak.

Friday night arrived and I found myself filled with nervous excitement as I made my way to the football stadium. I couldn't believe I had actually agreed to come watch Harry play. As I approached the ticket booth, I gave my name and they handed me the ticket Harry had left for me.

I found my seat in the packed bleachers and waited anxiously for the game to start. When the players rushed onto the field, I immediately spotted Harry's mop of curly hair. He looked focused and determined as he took his position on the field.

As the game began, I was immediately drawn in by Harry's commanding presence on the field. His movements were fluid and precise, each pass and dodge executed with passion and skill. With each successful play, the crowd erupted into thunderous cheers, mirroring my own excitement. It was impossible not to join in, jumping to my feet and cheering for Harry along with everyone else.

At halftime, Harry made his way over to the sidelines, sweat glistening on his forehead and tattooed arms, his chest heaving from exertion. As he scanned the crowd for familiar faces, his eyes locked onto mine and a wide grin spread across his face. He waved enthusiastically, causing my cheeks to flush as I shyly waved back in return.

In the second half of the game, Harry's presence seemed to radiate even more brightly. With each touchdown he scored, his fists pumped triumphantly in the air. The crowd roared and cheered as he ripped off his helmet and hoisted it victoriously above his head, his teammates swarming around him in celebration.

As the stadium emptied out, I stayed behind with a swarm of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I couldn't wait to see Harry once again. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he emerged from the locker room, his hair still damp from his post-game shower but his eyes shining with joy.

"So, what did you think?" he asked eagerly as he approached me.

"You were truly spectacular out there," I gushed earnestly. A wide grin stretched across Harry's face.

"Come on, let me give you that promised tour," he said playfully, offering me his arm. Laughing, I happily took it and followed him onto the empty field, my heart racing with excitement and admiration for the amazing athlete by my side.

Harry led me onto the empty stadium field, the night air crisp and cool against our skin. He pointed out spots on the grass where pivotal plays had happened, describing them with a passion that revealed his deep love for the game.

I found myself enthralled, leaning into him as we walked, his arm solid and warm beneath my hand. When we reached the middle of the field, he turned to face me. His eyes were soft, searching my face in the dim glow of the stadium lights.

"You know, I was afraid you wouldn't come tonight," he admitted quietly.

I tilted my head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. "You never seemed to like me much before. I figured I wasn't your type."

Heat rose to my cheeks. He wasn't wrong - I'd unfairly judged him as arrogant and cocky. But tonight had shattered those assumptions.

"I guess I realized there's more to you than meets the eye," I said softly.

Harry's smile widened. He lifted his hand, gently tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. My breath caught at his touch. Slowly, he leaned in. I let my eyes fall shut in anticipation...

But suddenly, the stadium lights flickered off, plunging us into darkness. We jumped apart in surprise.

Harry laughed. "Guess that's our cue to head out."

He took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and led me towards the parking lot. I walked close beside him, hyper-aware of his palm pressed against mine.

As he towered over me, Harry's eyes scanned the street, searching for a car. "Where did you park?" he asked, his voice deep and smooth.

I shifted nervously on my feet, avoiding eye contact. "Oh. Uh. I didn't drive. I just live around the street," I murmured, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment. The thought of navigating English roads was terrifying to me.

A warm chuckle escaped from Harry's lips as he looked back down at me. "I can drive you home, love," he offered, extending a hand towards me. His scent wafted towards me - a mix of cologne and something woodsy - and I couldn't help but feel a flutter in my stomach at his closeness.

As Harry and I walked towards his car, our hands still entwined, I felt a sense of excitement and anticipation build within me. "So, tell me more about this amazing game-winning touchdown," I teased, trying to break the silence that had fallen between us.

Harry laughed softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he glanced at me sideways. "Oh, you mean the one where I body-slammed the other team's runner into oblivion?" He pretended to flex his muscles playfully. "That was pretty epic, if I do say so myself."

I shook my head, feigning disbelief. "You're such a show-off," I said with a grin. "I bet you were the star of the school playground too."

Harry snorted. "Hardly. I was more of a loner growing up. Spent most of my time with my nose buried in books."

"Really?" I raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And here I thought all jocks were brain-dead."

He laughed again, his laughter echoing through the empty streets as we walked towards his car. When we finally reached it, Harry unlocked the door and gestured for me to get inside. As I slid into the passenger seat, I couldn't help but notice how perfectly he filled the driver's seat - broad shoulders tapering down to narrow hips and long legs. The image of him all sweaty and wet from a shower flashed through my mind, making my cheeks heat up again.

"So," Harry began as he started the engine and pulled out onto the road, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, "tell me more about yourself."

I felt myself blush even harder at his directness but decided to play along. "Well," I said slowly, thinking quickly. "I'm a huge bookworm too - Harry Potter is probably my favorite series ever."

Harry chuckled softly as he glanced at me briefly before looking back at the road. "I can see why you fit right in here in England then."

We drove through the quiet streets in companionable silence for a while before Harry spoke up again. "You know, you don't have to act all tough around me," he said quietly, his eyes still on the road as he slowed down at a stoplight.

I turned to face him fully now, surprised by his words. "I wasn't trying to be tough," I said defensively. "I just didn't want you to think that... well, never mind what I didn't want you to think," I muttered under my breath.

Harry's face softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear once again - a gesture that sent shivers down my spine despite the warmth of the car interior. "It's okay," he murmured soothingly as he took my hand in his once more and squeezed gently before letting go when the light turned green again.

The rest of our drive was filled with more easy conversation punctuated by moments of awkward silence broken only by the sounds of our breathing and occasional traffic noises outside. When we finally pulled up outside my house I found myself hesitating before opening the car door knowing that this was goodbye.

Under the dim glow of the street lamp, I tentatively turned to face Harry. "Thanks for...for tonight," I stammered out, suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.

His emerald eyes twinkled mysteriously as he simply nodded and began unbuckling his seatbelt. His eyes never left mine, setting off a simmering warmth between us that was hard to ignore.

"I should probably walk you to your door," he said softly, accentuating each word with an inexplicably seductive lilt. My heart pounded in my chest as we exited the car and made our way towards my apartment.

Once at the front door, we stood facing each other in silence, the air around us thick with unspoken words and desires. I felt his strong fingers gently cradle my chin, tilting my face up to meet his gaze. The intensity of this simple touch sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling heat in places I hadn't even known existed.

"Can I come inside?" His voice was barely a whisper but it echoed loudly in my ears.

My mind screamed caution but my body had other plans. “Yes,” I breathed out, unlocking the door and pulling him inside.

Inside, Harry's lips found mine in a searing kiss that left me breathless. His tongue teased against mine, creating a warm and delicious friction that sent shivers down my legs. As he pressed his hips against me, I could feel the unmistakable hardness growing between us. Our hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring new territory and seeking pleasure through every touch.

Harry's fingers made their way to the waistband of my skirt, pulling it down over my hips and letting it fall to the ground. He lifted me up onto the edge of a nearby table, spreading my legs slightly as he stood between them. The feel of his fingers brushing against my inner thigh caused me to gasp and arch my back in anticipation.

Harry pulled back abruptly,“I’m sorry,” He started, “that was really inappropriate.”

As Harry apologized, his eyes were drawn to the hint of my arousal peeking out from between my legs. His hesitation vanished as his fingers brushed against my wetness once more, this time without pulling away. He groaned in approval and leaned forward, pressing his lips against mine once more. I craved him in the worst ways.

Our tongues tangled as he pushed me back onto the table, spreading my legs further apart. His hands found their way under my shirt, skimming over my stomach before lifting it up, exposing my bra-clad breasts. He took a deep breath, inhaling my scent and trailing his fingers lightly across one tight nipple.

"Harry," I moaned, cavinginto his touch. "Please don't stop."

He smirked wickedly down at me before pulling back slightly. In one swift motion, he yanked my shirt over my head, tossing it aside carelessly. Grabbing hold of both sides of my bra, he pulled it down too with such force that my breasts were freed from their confinement.

I gasped at the sudden rush of air hitting my sensitive nipples but before I could catch my breath, he took one of them into his mouth sucking hard while pinching the other between two fingers, teasing it mercilessly.

"Fuck," I whimpered, clawing at the table underneath me as pleasure coursed through me like lightning. The intense mix of pain and pleasure sent waves of desire crashing over me as I felt myself becoming wetter with every passing second.

Sliding one hand down towards his pants, I slowly undid the button and zipper before slipping my hand inside his boxers to grip him firmly around his growing erection. He groaned into my breast at the contact sending shivers down my spine.

"You want me to fuck you?" he whispered hoarsely against my skin leaving a trail of saliva along my collarbone as he ran his tongue upwards caressingly .

"Yes," I breathed out between parted lips unable to form complete words due to the intensity of emotions running through me.

My heart raced as his erection throbbed in my hand. I could feel the heat radiating off his skin, mixed with the desire that seemed to emanate from him. His other hand slid down my back, over my ass cheeks, and gripped them roughly, pulling me closer against his hardness.

"Do you have any idea how fucking sexy you are? You and your little shy good girl act" he growled into my neck, nipping at the skin there softly. With one swift movement, he lifted me up onto the countertop, pushing my legs apart with his hips. His mouth trailed kisses along my jawline, down my throat, and on my breasts.

I arched my back slightly offering myself to him more fully as he took a hungry mouthful of one of my nipples into his mouth sucking on it hard while pinching the other between his fingers causing a sharp intake of breath from me which made him smile devilishly before moving on to devour the other one.

My body trembled with anticipation as he bit my neck playfully, his rough hands sliding over my hips and ass cheeks before pulling me against him. His cock twitched against my wet core, making me whimper in want. "You like that, don't you?" he growled, his voice low and husky. "You're so fucking beautiful."

"Harry," I moaned, my voice reduced to a desperate whimper as he continued teasing me with his words and touches. "Please..."

The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with our ragged breathing and the occasional moan. I could feel myself getting lost in the sensations, my body responding eagerly to his movements. His hands were everywhere, tracing over my curves and gripping me tightly as he pounded into me.

My own hands were roaming his back, digging into his flesh as I tried to hold on to something amidst the overwhelming pleasure that was coursing through me. Every inch of my body felt on fire, and I couldn't get enough.

"Fuck," he grunted, his face contorting with pleasure. "You feel so good."

I whimpered in response, unable to form any coherent words as he continued to move inside me relentlessly. My whole world had narrowed down to this moment – his body against mine, the sound of our bodies coming together in a perfect rhythm.

My mind was blissfully blank as he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming rougher and more urgent. I could feel my climax building up within me, like a fire threatening to consume me whole.

And then it hit me like a tidal wave – intense and all-consuming. My back arched off the counter as I cried out his name, my body trembling with pleasure as every nerve ending exploded with ecstasy.

He followed soon after, letting out a loud groan as he spilled himself inside me. We stayed still for a moment, trying to catch our breaths and bask in the aftermath of our passion.

But eventually reality came crashing back around us. Panic started creeping up inside me as I tried to gather my thoughts and make sense of what had just happened.

As I lay there, my heart still pounding in my chest, he gently pulled out of me and straightened up. His eyes, dark with desire just moments ago, now softened with a mixture of tenderness and regret.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of our heavy breathing. "I shouldn't have let things go this far."

I sat up slowly, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me – confusion, guilt, and a lingering sense of pleasure that refused to dissipate.

"It's not just your fault," I murmured, avoiding his gaze as I tried to gather my clothes around me. "I wanted this too."

He reached out a hand to touch my arm, but hesitated before making contact.

"We should talk about this," he said finally, his tone serious. "About what it means for us."

I nodded slowly, feeling the weight of his words settling between us. What had started as a moment of passion had now morphed into something more complicated, something that demanded attention and discussion.

As we dressed in silence, the air in the room felt charged with unspoken thoughts and emotions. The intensity of our physical connection lingered like a ghost between us, refusing to be ignored.

We began to gather our clothes from around the room, now tainted with the evidence of our reckless choices. Harry buried his face into his shirt before pulling it on, perhaps ruminating on what just occurred, or maybe trying to drown out the reality with the lingering scent of his cologne.

"Y/n," he started after a long silence, pulling his trousers up. His voice sounded strained, an indication that he was struggling with the right choice of words. "I... I didn't mean for this to... I mean, I like spending time with you." He sighed heavily, rubbing his face between his large palms.

I remained silent as I fastened my bra. The finality in his voice was suffocating, making it harder for me to breathe with each passing moment. I felt my heart thumping loudly in my chest – a crude reminder of the complication we had willingly dived into.

"I like you, Y/N," he said finally, his voice a hoarse whisper. The words hung in the air between us, hovering like a dense fog, obscuring any clarity that might lie beyond.

I stopped fumbling with my blouse, my fingers stilled by his confession. "Harry," I began, my voice barely audible. Fear clung to me, making my words tremble.

"I know," he cut me off before I could finish what I started. "I know we're both in different places... Me with football and you with your studies." There was a tingling silence after his statement, as if he was waiting for me to confirm or deny his declaration.

I sighed heavily, tugging at the hem of my blouse, feeling the cool fabric against my still heated skin. "It's not that simple Harry," I admitted, blinking back tears that had started to sting my eyes. "This," I motioned around the room, encompassing our discarded underwear strewn haphazardly around the room - a silent testament to the passion that had just consumed us, "this complicates things."

He ran his hand through his tousled hair and nodded solemnly. "I understand," he replied, a hint of resignation etching lines onto his face. His gaze was heavy with something akin to regret as it met mine.

My breath hitched in my throat at the intensity of his stare. I wanted desperately to reach out and ease the burden that seemed to weigh heavily on him. But reality was an insidious shadow that lurked in our midst, reminding us of the impracticality of our desires.

"I think it's better if we keep our distance for now," Harry broke the silence after what felt like an eternity. His words were like cold water dousing the fire that our bodies had kindled only moments ago.

A feeling of sudden emptiness clawed at me. His words, though probably said in goodwill, felt like a punch to my gut. I swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.

I nodded, unable to bring myself to utter a word. He stepped towards me and for a moment I thought he would pull me into his arms one last time. But he merely extended a hand that I shook lightly, the gesture felt impersonal after the intimacy we had just shared.

Without another word, he turned and left the room. I stood still in the silence that followed, the sound of his departing footsteps echoing in my ears long after he was gone.

Mia came home later that night, oblivious to the charged atmosphere that still lingered, suffocating and heavy in the air. Her chatter about an extra credit assignment she’d completed was a stark contrast to the silence that had enveloped the room just hours ago.

“Y/N, are you okay?” she asked suddenly, noticing my distant gaze. I gave her a weak smile in response before excusing myself to bed.

As I lay there in the dark, staring at the ceiling, Harry's words echoed through my mind. "I think it's better if we keep our distance for now." His voice was etched into my memory, roughened by regret and something else I couldn't quite place. His face bore an expression that told me this was as hard for him as it was for me.

The next day was a blur. My classes seemed trivial compared to the turmoil swirling in my mind. My interactions with others were mechanical and flat as if I was watching myself from outside my body.

Football practice was going on when I walked past the field on my way back from the campus library. My eyes instinctively sought out Harry among the sea of players. I found him focused on his game, every muscle in his body straining as he kicked the ball towards the goalpost.

His world seemed unchanged—still revolving around football—while mine felt like it had been knocked off its axis.

The following weeks were no easier. Everywhere I went, I could feel his presence like a phantom pain - a dull ache that refused to fade away. In every conversation, every song playing in the background, every corner of campus - Harry was there.

I knew we had made a rational decision, given our circumstances. But my heart couldn't comprehend what my mind had already accepted.

Months passed and winter set in, blanketing Manchester in white. Serene and beautiful yet so melancholy it mirrored my mood perfectly. The once familiar campus looked different under the soft glow of the snow as if to mirror the change that had occurred in my life.

One evening, as I was walking back from the library, I spotted Harry sitting alone on a bench, bundled up in a thick coat, his breath misting in the frigid air. His eyes were trained on the football field, currently blanketed by snow, and his hands were tucked into his pockets, his usual energy replaced by a pensive quietness.

I hesitated, weighing my options. We hadn't spoken since that night – the night when our worlds collided and then abruptly fell apart. But something drew me towards him – an inexplicable magnetism I had been fighting for so long.

Stepping tentatively closer, I cleared my throat to announce my presence. "Harry," I said softly, trying not to startle him.

He looked up at the sound of my voice, surprise flickering across his features before they settled into guarded neutrality. "Y/N," he responded with a curt nod, but made no move to invite me to sit.

Taking a leap of faith, I lowered myself onto the bench next to him, maintaining some distance while also bracing for the icy cold through my jeans. For several minutes we sat in silence, lost in our own thoughts as we stared out at the snowy field.

"I've missed you." The words slipped out before I could stop them.

He turned toward me then, his emerald eyes soft and searching as they met mine. His lips opened as if to say something but closed again as if reconsidering his words.

"Y/N..." His voice trailed off and there was a long pause before he continued. "I’ve missed you too."

Relief washed over me at his confession but it was quickly replaced with a gnawing sadness as I realized that missing each other wasn’t enough to bridge the gap between us. Our realities were still the same - he was still the star football player with ambitions bigger than Manchester itself and I was still an English major trying to carve out a place for myself in academia.

“Do you ever think about…?” I started, swallowing hard as I tried to voice the question that had been eating at me.

“Us?” He completed my sentence, his voice barely above a whisper. His gaze was heavy but he held it steady, openly showing the vulnerability he usually kept hidden beneath his star athlete facade. “All the time.”

The honesty in his confession hit me harder than I expected. We were both stuck in our respective worlds, looking at each other from afar but never truly reaching out.

I took a deep breath, feeling the biting winter air fill my lungs before exhaling slowly. “We can’t keep doing this, Harry,” I said finally, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

He looked at me then, his gaze filled with understanding and something else I couldn't quite place. “I know,” he replied softly, his eyes never leaving mine.

The future was uncertain and full of challenges. But if there was one thing I had learnt from this whole ordeal, it was that some chances are worth taking. No matter how daunting they may seem.

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azsazz · 5 months

Text

Midnight Muse (Part 2)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 2,450

[Part 1]

_________________________________________

“Nope,” you mutter under your breath, brow furrowed in confusion. His words haven’t quite settled yet, but they form a coherent thought right as the doors to the elevator start to grind shut on creaky limbs. Your body floods with so much anger that your chest aches with it a little, and you’re shoving yourself away from the front door, lunging towards the elevator in response.

You catch him as his glance lifts from his phone at the sound of the front door slamming shut loudly behind you. Gorgeous, hazel eyes meet yours and your breath hitches in your throat. Definitely because you’re getting worked up as you run to catch the doors and not because of how pretty his eyes are.

You itch to rifle through your packed boxes and sort through your pencils, searching for those exact hues.

There is no way you’re going to catch the doors in time, and godsdamnit you probably look like a fucking fool right now, cheeks flushed and hair wild, forehead dewey with sweat. Your eyes are a blaze, swirling with both embarrassment and annoyance. The corner of his mouth quirks up because he too, knows that you won’t be able to slip inside of the elevator with him before the doors shut. The machinery is slow as fuck when you need it but now it chooses to work properly? What the fuck is that about?

“Fucking asshole,” you screech, slamming your palms against the metal doors that separate you from him. You pray he hears it. You hope he understands how lucky he is that you’re not on that elevator making his life a living hell. You release a long groan, one that comes from the depths of your soul, and press your head against the cool metal, squeezing your eyes shut.

The truck doesn’t have to be returned until noon tomorrow, but you’re in a loading zone, and the last thing you need on your first day in your new apartment is the truck getting towed. You don’t even have the beginnings of money to pay to get it out, and you have no idea when your new neighbors will be leaving.

Trudging up the stairs because you can’t be assed to wait for the stupid elevator to return to the first floor, you stew in your anger. The effort it takes to climb the fourth floor helps dispel some of the white, hot anger you feel towards the boy, and you start to think that maybe you should’ve expected that kind of behavior from someone as good-looking as him.

You shake that thought from your head as quickly as possible, and begin to take the stairs by two.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

You’d filled Feyre in on the lobby incident, tossing the keys to the truck onto the counter before snatching your water bottle. It’s not as cold as you’d like it, as you need it from the heat curling your body from the sight of the parking bandit, and especially after taking the stairs.

You’d muttered for her to keep checking out the window every once in a while to see if either of the people blocking you moved their cars while you stalked off to take a shower.

Three hours later, some pizza filling your stomach and swaddled in your comfortable pajamas, neither of the owners of those vehicles have left.

“Give it up,” Feyre groans, tossing her half eaten crust back into the pizza box. It’s stacked on top of a cardboard box labeled ‘Living Room: Puzzles & Pillows.’ You don’t understand Feyre’s packing techniques, if the two were placed in the same box because it makes sense in some way you wouldn’t understand or if it’s because they both start with the letter ‘P,’ but you’re too tired to care right now. Or ever.

You groan, slumping back onto the couch. You haven’t gotten a ticket yet, but the constant nagging of your conscience is keeping you from really settling into the reality show you and Feyre are obsessed with. It’s about a bunch of young couples shoved into a house to find love. It’s cringey as fuck, but it makes for good television.

“I’m still pissed off about it,” you grumble, picking at the cheese crusted to the cardboard. It’s gone hard and cold, but you nibble it anyway. You should’ve ordered popcorn to be delivered or something. A bottle of tequila, perhaps.

“I know,” Feyre sighs, “But you being pissed off isn’t going to make the cars magically move.” She readjusts, sitting upright. “Oh! Maybe if you stop being pissed about it, they’ll magically move them. Let’s try that!”

You roll your eyes instead, opening your mouth to speak, but loud, brash music cuts you off. You and Feyre share a confused look, then turn towards where the sound is coming from.

It’s blaring through the walls. Specifically, the wall your bedroom shares.

You groan, shoving your face into your hands. As if this day couldn’t get any fucking worse.

“What the hell is that?” Feyre asks, pushing to her feet.

“Sounds like a bunch of metal clanking together with some surprisingly nice harmonies mixed in,” you answer sarcastically. While it’s not your favored type of music, the man who isn’t screaming like a banshee sounds quite lovely.

Feyre cuts you a look, pressing her ear against the wall. You don’t know what she’s trying to hear through there, you can understand each and every word all the way from your spot on the couch. You’re too tired to wonder, though, and still focused on the damn truck sitting outside.

“Should we go over and ask them to turn it down?” Feyre asks, making her way back to your side so you can actually hear her. You sigh, so godsdamn tired of this day. “That’s going to get annoying, fast.”

“We can always try not being pissed off about it,” you respond, using her own words against her. Feyre’s lips tighten sourly while yours pull into a grin. “Maybe they’ll magically turn it down!”

“Shut up, loser.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Of course, it’s fucking him.

The boy from downstairs. Only the person who’d made your already rough day even shittier would of course be the person you’re forced to live next to for an entire year. His hair is wet, unruly like he’s only just run a towel through it, sticking up in all directions. It’s the perfect length, a few strands nearly poking him in those intriguing eyes. It’s black as night, too. He’s dressed in a tight black t-shirt that leaves very little to the imagination, stretched tight across his chest. The fabric sinches around a tight waist that makes your mouth dry. You can only imagine the muscle pointing to what lies beneath his low-slung jeans.

“Can I help you?” He glares as he stands in the doorway, and you trade a stunned look with your roommate.

Feyre’s lips are slightly parted, eyes wide as if she’s just seen her favorite sculpture come to life. You get it, felt the same way when you saw him, but then he’d opened his mouth and ruined everything.

He still looks great, unfortunately.

“Can you turn the music down? We’re trying to sleep.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you lift your chin and straighten your shoulders to show him that his utter beauty is not intimidating at all.

That blank stare flickers between you and Feyre. He takes his sweet time taking the both of you in, surveying your loose pajama pants, oversized college hoodies, and your wet and tangled hair that clings to your neck. You curl your toes in your slippers. You blush under that scrutinizing gaze, but you don’t allow yourself to back down, steeling your spine.

“It’s nine thirty,” he responds bluntly, as if you don’t know what time it is. Flames stir in the pit of your stomach, awakening in his presence once more.

“We know that,” Feyre tries, because she’d seen the way your jaw was clenched so tightly she thought it might crack. She understands now, that this is the asshole you were referring to when you’d climbed up the stairs to get back to the apartment.

You had definitely downplayed his looks, though.

“We would appreciate it if you would turn it down,” you finish for her because the boy doesn’t look like he understands. Maybe he just doesn’t care. You can’t tell, you can’t get a read on him. “We’ve had a long day. People park like shit here, and we couldn’t get our moving truck out of its spot, you know?” You bait him, finding yourself wanting to see a flicker of any reaction. “Had to call the towing company to get them to move that stupid bike, isn’t that right, Fey?”

And there. There it is, at the mention of that little bike that wouldn't have stood a chance against the big moving truck you rented should you have hit the gas a little too hard on accident. You almost wish you would’ve, to be honest.

Hazel turns from a lush forest to a menacing storm, ripping needles from branches and limbs from trees. It makes your stomach flip with unease, a shiver wrack down your spine. The shadows in the hall seem to fracture with his mood change alone. Maybe you shouldn’t be fucking with him.

Before you get a chance to tell him you’re only joking, he slips back inside his apartment and slams the door in your face.

For the second time today, you feel the urge to pound your fists against the door and curse his name that you don’t even know.

You don’t have to, though, because Feyre’s doing it for you, rapping her knuckles against the thick wooden door, a frown on her face, eyebrows slanted downwards in annoyance.

It’s not the asshole that opens the door this time. It’s another utterly astonishing boy with an aura to him that makes your knees weak. His hair is swooped perfectly back from his face, shorter than his friends’, but suits his sharp face perfectly. Those cheekbones could cut glass. Again, you feel the need to search for your pencils, because the blue of his eyes is so deep they’re nearly purple. You’ve never seen anything quite like it, as you stare up into them.

What the fuck are they putting in the water here?

Feyre’s breath hitches as he peeks through the tightly shut door, blocking your view when you try to peek around him for his friend. You’d push right through that tall, tight body of his if you had any muscle left after lugging your life in boxes up the stairs all day.

“Sorry, ladies,” his voice is like silk, and as his gaze burns down Feyre’s body, it turns to a near purr. “We’re getting ready for an event tonight, but we’ll try our best to keep it down.”

Liar. You know it not because of the mirth in his tone or the sparkle in his eyes, it’s the soft scoff behind the door that has your fingers rolling into fists.

He doesn’t leave room for a reply, closing the door with a click.

Clenching your jaw, you take reign of the situation, pounding so hard on the door that your bones reverberate with it. You’re tired of this. Of this building. Of the motorcycle. Of the fucking elevator. You’re so tired and irritated and they deserve your wrath now. Fuck being civil.

After a few incessant bangs, the door opens again, and your jaw goes slack.

A behemoth of a man stands before you. His broad shoulders take up the width of the door as he leans against it, nonchalant as ever. As if you and Feyre aren’t bothering him in the slightest. His thick arms are folded over his bare chest and your mind short-circuits. His tan skin on display is yours for the taking, and you drink him in like a dehydrated woman.

Tattoos line the expanse of his exposed skin, but your gaze moves too fast to take notice of what each one is. You're too busy focusing on the rippling muscle lining his stomach and down to his loose sweatpants, hung so low around his waist, you don’t even see the elastic of his underwear. You swallow dryly. You don’t think he’s wearing any.

As you and your roommate devour the sight, he’s doing the same to you, pink tongue peeking out to wet his lips as he stares, unabashed. His hair hangs around his shoulders, the perfect length for pulling. Which is what you want to do, right about now.

“Well, hello there,” he greets, tone a rumble or warmth. His mouth hikes up into a grin that makes you want to melt and tuck yourself into his large embrace, or get on your knees and open your mouth. Either or. “You must be our new neighbors.”

Feyre nods, a dumbfounded look on her face. You’re sure it matches the one you’re wearing right now, unable to form a single word. “That’s right.”

“Aren’t you two the prettiest things I’ve ever seen,” he compliments, and you wonder why it hadn’t been him in the lobby when you’d needed help. Or when you both arrived. With the muscles stacking his arms, he looks like he’d be able to carry thrice the amount of boxes that you can, all at the same time.

It’s like the three of you are stuck in your own little bubble in the hall, all silent and all taking your fill of the other. You wonder if he’s taken two girls at once before, and then you deem it a stupid thing to think because of course he has. And if you looked like that, you would too.

“Right,” you blurt, cheeks flaring as his attention settles on you. The tilt to his mouth is distracting, but the changing of songs inside helps keep you focused. “About that music…”

“Oh that?” the boy rolls his eyes. “That’s nothing. Just wait until later when it really starts picking up, that’s when—hey, wait,” he cuts himself off, craning his head around to see his roommates, “Why aren’t we letting them in, again?”

There’s laughter on the other side and the second boy’s voice filters over the music. “They were mean to Az.”

The large man turns back, disappointment scrawled across his face. “Ah, sorry, lassies. No one’s mean to Azzy,” he says it softly, like it hurts him to be shutting the both of you down. “Have a nice night.”

The snick of the door shutting is the final nail in the coffin.

The click of the lock is them burying it.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea (can't tag ya for some reason) @thisisew

#azriel x reader #azriel #acowar #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #azriel/reader #art school au #tattoo artist!azriel #midnight muse

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angelofthepage · 2 months

Text

Summary: Mr. Drew helps his new apprentice move out of her dingy apartment and then grab a bite to eat. Meanwhile, the movers are in for a surprise back at his humble abode.

#bendy fanfic #bendy fanfiction #bendy au #searching the depths #searching the depths: the heart of the studio #joey drew #bella ewe #sammy lawrence #twisted alice angel #steve mcgregor #steve's friend

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cheolism · 5 months

Text

✧ UNDER THE SKIN

✧ werewolf!choi seungcheol x reader ✧ synopsis: walking through the autumn forest you know you're not alone. there's a predator after you. but can you really be considered his prey if you're more than willing to be caught? ✧ wc is approx. 4.6k ✧ tags: supernatural au, smut, slight horror? prey-and-predator roleplay except your boyfriend is literally a werewolf. ✧ warnings: minors do not interact. feelings of being watched/stalked, being watched/stalked; prey-and-predator dynamics, mentions of being eaten; power dynamics, strength kink, overstimulation. one mention of breeding. consent !! sex without a condom, sex in the forest; multiple rounds n multiple positions. mean!seungcheol, possessive!cheol. pet names (baby, princess, babygirl) ✧ part of the svthub fall-ing for you collab!! make sure to check out the other works!!!!

the silence of the forest tries to convince you that you are completely alone.

it was as if the entire wood was holding its breath. no breeze filtered through the leaves; no birds flew overhead. it was just you and the trees.

it was completely still and you appeared to be alone.

but you know you’re not.

you wrap your flannel tighter around your body, the autumn air biting gently at your flesh. it wasn’t so cold that you found it intolerable, wasn’t so cold that you were searching for warmth. instead you sought comfort from your flannel, as if the fabric could shield you from whatever lurked in the forest.

because you weren’t alone.

you know that. you know that just as you know night would be falling in a few hours, just as you know that the full silver moon would soon begin creeping into the sky.

you weren’t ignorant enough presume you would be lucky enough to escape the notice of whatever lurked in the depths of the forest.

so you walk through the forest, looking up at the trees. their foliage was far prettier than the dull brown of the shrubbery. the trees boasted their beautiful colors, shades of vivid crimson and deep gold; there was an amber leaf on the ground larger than your hand, and you wishes that you had your phone so you could take a picture.

instead you contine to walk.

deeper and deeper you walk into the forest. it’s quiet except for your movements. even when you pass a brook, its cold waters rushing over smoothed stones, its song seems muted.

maybe it was because you are all too aware that you were being watched.

you can’t see your stalker. but you could feel them. you could feel the weight of their eyes on your body, could feel how the hairs at the back of your neck were rising.

turning around only meant that you would be walking directly into their path. and so you continue onwards, deeper and deeper.

you wish your boyfriend was here.

seungcheol isn’t extraordinarily brave; he isn’t necessarily a hero. he didn’t push you in front of him when the two of you dared to go into haunted houses during halloween but he still rushed through them, his hand clamped tightly around yours as he tried to find an exit.

he isn’t a physical fighter either. but there is something about seungcheol’s presence that humbled those around him. from his broad stature to his thick brows, seungcheols’a aura just said that he wasn’t someone to mess with.

but you know him beneath that exterior. his cute pouts, his boyish laughter and charm. his devotion to you. that was who you wanted at your side right now, walking through the forest with that feeling of being watched never leaving.

it would be nice to even hold his hand, you think. to feel his warm. even if you just linked your pinkie through his you would be all right.

you pause beneath a maple tree. it is large, its leaves a gradient that shift from bright yellow to a fiery orange.

a bird sings overhead. and you listen. it stops quickly, and you watch as it breaks from the treeline to fly away, abandoning you to whomever watched you walk through the forest.

seungcheol wouldn’t abandon you. he would keep watch over you while you rested, would grab your hand and reassure you before leading you back through the forest.

you continue on your way.

eventually you come across a river. it is wide enough to where you don’t dare to swim and you know better than to think that you could wade across. fallen tree leaves float along, and you wish for a fleeting moment that you could be a leaf and just float away.

but you weren’t a leaf.

you follow the river alongside its muddy edge, walking quickly so your shoes won’t sink too far. there’s a bridge ahead, it’s black metal vivid against the beautiful and serene autumn scene.

there is a gravel path that leads to the bridge. as soon as you step onto it, rocks shifting beneath your feet, you hear something.

you can’t be sure of what it is. you couldn’t really make anything out, the noise quiet and muffled. but you know there’s something out there.

you go still.

you hear a bush rustling behind you, hidden, and that’s all you need to continue onward. you go onto the bridge, reaching for the cold railing. you slide your fingers along its surface as you walk, its frigidness biting at your fingers.

you are halfway when you feel it. your entire body freezes, heart hammering so loudly in your chest that it almost sounds like thunder. you can’t move. you imagine this was what your ancestors felt like when they came upon a saber-tooth tiger or some other sort of apex predator. you imagine them frozen with horror; paralyzed with it.

“look at me baby.”

as if his words were a commandment given by a god, you are powerless to do anything but obey. you turn on the bridge.

and he’s standing there.

he is stocky with broad shoulders and hips. his hair is a mop of black waves. you can’t make out his features, but you knew him and knew there was a smirk playing on his dark cherry lips, knew that his lips were twinkling underneath his thick brows.

“you’ve walked awfully far, princess,” he says. he steps onto the bridge entirely. you watch him the way prey watches their hunters; fearful and observant. “don’t you think it’s time to stop? time to give in?”

for another horrifying moment you can’t speak. pure horror freezes your entire being. you were right, you had been followed, had been stalked through the forest. you wish you had been wrong.

you knew him, knew the danger that lurked underneath his skin.

your thigh twitched from being held so tightly for so long. you became alive again.

you make a step back. he takes several more towards you, walking casually, uncaring of your fear. you can only move a little compared to his broad, relaxed steps.

he continues to talk as he moves towards you. “i thought you would’ve given up by now, baby. would’ve turned back to the car before now.”

“you --” your voice breaks. “you’re -- you leave me alone.”

“aw,” he says, now close enough that you can see his grin. “it’s cute that you think you’ve got any authority here, princess.”

it’s horrible the way that his words electrify you. they send shocks of fear and something you refuse to name through your system; make your entire being alive with something other than fear.

he looks up to the sky. you can’t help but follow his gaze. the sun was sinking, the light blue of the sky making way for sweet pinks and soft oranges.

“the full moon is tonight.” he puts his hands into his coat pockets, looking back at you and still grinning. the two of you are still too far apart for you to make the fine details of him, such as his eyelashes but you swear you can see his canines; see hos abnormally long they were and how they glinted in the light.

“the sun’s going down.” he keeps his gaze on you as he continues across the bridge, his footfalls striking fear further into your heart. “looks like we’ve missed supper, princess. but don’t worry. i think i see something temping in front of me . . . “

“and i just can’t wait to eat you up.”

his words seem to get you back into motion. you turn on him and begun to run to the other side of the bridge, footsteps loud, every fiber in your being screaming at you to get away.

get away, get away, get away from him, get away from that wolf.

you can hear him running after you. you need to go quick, need to go faster.

“come on princess!” he shouts. you try to pick up speed. you need to go and go and go, needed to find your way back to your car. need to get in and lock the door and go far far away.

the wolf was going to get you. and he was going to devour you.

“stop running babe!” you leave the gravel path behind, breaking into the treeline and into the forest. “I’m gonna get you! running will just prolong it!”

the trees blend, and your breath becomes harsher. your heart hammers in your chest.

you can’t keep running. you can’t hide either, not with his superior sense of smell due to his nature.

you conclude that you will have to try and fight when you feel something grab you. you’re yanked back and you can feel arms wrap around you before the combined momentum of his body hitting yours makes you strike the ground.

you don’t land on the ground but on him. for a moment you are breathless, hands clenching at his flannel as you fight for breath. he’s not out of breath at all, and his thick eyebrows are high on his face as he watches you.

“told you i’d catch you,” he says, smug. his eyes flicker over your face, drinking you in. “now you’re mine, princess.”

you push back against him, trying to tear yourself out of his arm, thick arms. he lets you go for a moment, letting you think that you can get away. then his arms are wrapping back around you, pushing.

he traps you against the ground. you can hear leaves crinkling underneath your body as you lash out against the man, trying to push his body away. but he’s sturdy, his thick thighs framing yours and his hands pressing against your shoulders and keeping you down.

“come on, baby,” he says, thick lips pushed into a pout. “stop fighting me. i’ve got you.”

you nearly have your breath when he begins to lower his face to yours. you can’t help but look at him, take in his striking features. the set of his eyes, the sweet brown of them. his smirk and how his lips are slightly cracked.

his breath ghosts over your face as he takes you in. his lips hover over your cheeks; your temple. his body is warm and heavy on you, to the point where you can no longer feel the bitter autumn air.

he moves his hand to your face. he presses his palm against your cheek, thumb rubbing over your bottom lip. he has you in the literal palm of his hand and you were helpless. all thoughts of fighting has left your system and you can’t help but bask in his presence now that he’s here.

“see?” he is smirking. his thumb tugs at your mouth. his canines look awfully sharp. “all the fight’s left you, baby. you’re in my arms, where you belong.”

that sends the fight back into you. you wrinkle your face, hands releasing their grip on his flannel to push at him again. “fuck you!”

he laughs. “come on, princess. just a taste, babygirl. just a bite.”

he shifts on you, weight going to your thighs. he moves his face back to yours, lips skimming over the curve of your cheek and the line of your jaw.

“just a bite,” he echoes. as soon as you feel his teeth against your skin you freeze, hand going back to his coat and twisting.

it’s horrible, you think. horrible that you’re so eager for him.

you tilt your head back, baring your neck.

you can feel his smile against your throat. he bites at your neck weakly, without any real intent. you can’t help but whine.

“see princess? you’re so eager for me, so willing.” his words send a flood of warmth through your body and you can feel it as they settle in your cunt, could feel the way your juices begin to wet your panties.

you whine something that sounds like a name. he exhales against your skin, one of his hands moving against your body. he moves his hand up underneath your shirt. you can’t help but jolt as your body is exposed to the chilled autumn air.

“don’t worry, baby,” he soothes. he presses his nose against your throat, breathing you in. his hands settles against your stomach, thumb swiping at your skin. “i’ll take good care of you, princess.”

it’s horrible, you think. your boyfriend is such a sweet man. he buys you more clothes and jewelry than you know what to do with, spoiling you relentlessly. he treats you as if you’re a princess. he loves you with every fiber of his being, loves your fiercely and treasures you more than any diamond.

and here he is, body settled over yours. he stalked you through the forest, used his werewolf senses to track you down and make you feel like you were being hunted. he has you trapped beneath him, has you wishing so desperately he would just devour you.

he was your kind, sweet boyfriend.

and here he is reminding you that underneath his skin he’s a predator.

and you are his prey.

seungcheol's hand moves further up your shirt as his mouth diligently works against your neck. he nibbles at your skin, alternating between biting gently and sucking. he's teasing you, you know; teasing you and making you nothing but putty beneath him.

"get off," you mumble, words quiet and body moving against him, trying to feel more and more of him. "leave me alone."

you can feel seungcheol grin against your skin. his fingers skim along the underside of your breast and through your bra, but you can feel the scrape of his nail against you. your mind focuses on the tingling sensation, and when he shifts on you again, his knee coming up and pressing against your cunt, you can't help but get truly desperate.

immediately you're flattening your cunt against his knee, rubbing against it through the layers of fabric.

he laughs at you. "see? i've barely even done anything to you and you're so desperate for me, princess. you could cum from just this, can't you?"

you shake your head in denial. seungcheol moves his hand over your breast, tracing your nipple through your bra. his begins sucking at your skin in favor, grinding his knee up against your cunt.

"cheol," you sob out, fingers grabbing at him. "need more."

"so much for pretending," he laughs. he pulls his face from your neck. "chasing you really got you all bothered, didn't it?"

"don't make fun of me!" you can't help but whine at him.

seungcheol chuckles again. he's grinning at you, eyes sparkling with affection. "what do you want to do? keep playing?"

you sniffle. "please."

his smile hardens into something more cunning. he takes out his hand from underneath your shirt, letting the cold air hit your stomach again. "hm? what's that, baby? want me to be the big bad wolf? want me to be mean and rough?"

you want it. horribly, you want it. the thought of your boyfriend, your big strong werewolf boyfriend, loosing himself.

"come on babygirl. use your words."

"please," you beg.

seungcheol laughs again. "fuck, princess. such a fucking slut, aren't you? so fucking desperate. you don't care what's going on as long as i'm fucking you."

"just want you," you agree. and you did. you wanted seungcheol so fucking much. wanted him, his strong hands pressing you against the forest floor, his fat cock fucking into your cunt. you wanted him in a way you never wanted anything else, a way completely foreign to except for when you were with choi seungcheol.

"cute." seungcheol moves off of you just enough so he could begin working at your pants. he pops the button of your jeans quickly, pulling your jeans off just as fast. you can't even despair at the cold air before he's moving his body back over yours.

"can't believe you ran from me." he pushes his knee back up to your cunt. now that your jeans were out of the way you could feel him better, could feel the scratch of his jeans against your cunt and through your panties better.

and it feels so fucking good. grinding your cunt down on his knee, using him. it sends sparks to your gut and cunt, and your hips move on their own, searching.

"ran from me and here you are, fucking yourself on my knee." seungcheol lowers his face back to yours, lips skimming over your cheek. he doesn't kiss you. normally his lips are constantly against yours, devouring your mouth. but he keeps his mouth away from yours, and it does something to your mind to know that your boyfriend, the man who would give you the world, won't give you this one thing.

"my hands are cold, baby," he says. seungcheol moves his hand back along your chest, letting his fingers skim over you. "guess i'll just have to use you to get warmed up."

you shake your head, trying to remember the plot. "nnn -- no -- pervert --"

but then you grab his hand and push it down. seungcheol slips his hand into your panties, finding your cunt and molding his hand against it naturally.

"fuck, princess," he sighs, lashes fluttering. "cunt's so fucking warm. gonna feel so good milking my cock."

your cunt tightens at his words, wishing it was his cock. he grins, mouth to your neck. he mouths at your neck, kissing sloppily while his hand slowly moves at your pussy.

he works his hand against you, fingers slow. he draws his fingers against your cunt and clit over and over and over, playing your pussy through your panties languidly; as if you were in the comfort of your bed and not on the forest floor, bodies surrounded by fallen autumn leaves.

seungcheol works you to orgasm slowly. satisfaction escapes you -- you want more. you want him fucking you, want him rough against you.

but seungcheol refuses. he bites and licks at your neck, marking you. he maneuvers his fingers so his thumb is pressing flat against your clit through the fabric of your underwear. he focuses on your clit, dragging his thumb over it.

and you hate it.

his hand at your cunt has you whining, hips bucking up and begging for more. your panties are soaked through, warm from the heat of your pussy. you can't feel him the way you want to, can't feel all of him the way you so desperately need.

"need," you rasp out. one of your hands moves to the forest ground beside you, grabbing. leaves crinkle in your grasp. "more, please. more, need more, cheol."

seungcheol removes his hand from your cunt. you whine high at the back of your throat. you wanted more, didn't want him to take his hand away completely.

"such a little slut for me," he laughs. he moves back, sitting. seungcheol grabs your panties in both hands and pulls. your underwear is ripped, and he tosses them aside. "all i had to do was get you beneath me, huh? just had to show some dominance and you're nothing but an eager little slut."

"not," you protest. his hands smooth over your thighs and then he's pushing them apart. "not a slut."

"no?" he moves his hand along your skin, fingernails dragging and sending sparks through you. "then what would you call it, princess? running from me only to give up as soon as i get my hands on you?"

"you're mean."

seungcheol raises a thick brow. he doesn't disagree. his hand finds your cunt naturally. two of his thick fingers hook into your pussy just as quickly, familiar with your body.

"i'm mean?" he slowly feeds his fingers into you, sliding them until you've taken their entire length. you can't help but let your eyes roll back, mouth parting in a wordless moan. his fingers were always so thick, stretching out your cunt and making it burn in the most delightful way.

"i'm mean and yet here i am, fucking your little cunt with my fingers on the forest floor."

"you're not," you argue, voice tight. "you're just sitting there. not moving them, just fucking using my -- my --"

he grins. "your what, princess?"

you refuse to say it, twisting your fingers against the leaves on either side of you. the autumn air bites at your skin but you can't care, can't care when seungcheol's body is framing you and his thick fingers are up your pussy.

"say it." with one hand in your cunt he uses the other to push back his hair, showing off how he has one eyebrow cocked. "gotta use your words, baby. or i'll just leave you here. make you walk all the way to your car with no panties, cunt wanting more."

you whine. "i -- cheol."

he hums, shifting. the movement has his fingers sliding, just slightly, in your pussy. it's just enough to remind you of how desperate you are.

"please," you beg, "please cheol. i want -- i want you to fuck me, want you to fuck -- fuck my pussy."

seungcheol laughs, and then he's pulling his fingers from your pussy. you don't have a chance to miss his fingers before he's shoving them back in. he isn't gentle, and he's fucking your cunt with his fingers the way he would use his cock.

the pain of being opened isn't pain so much as it is that pleasure-pain that you crave. the sort that you seek out after a long day. it's the sort that has you moaning and letting your legs fall all the way open, allowing seungcheol to move closer.

you could cum like this.

but then seungcheol moves his hand from your pussy entirely. you groan, hips still moving up in hopes of him sinking his hand back into your pussy. you want, you want and want and want and here he was, depriving you, turning you into this wanton creature.

seungcheol then works at his jeans and all the protests vanish. you watch hungrily as he discards his jeans and underwear.

his dick makes you drool as soon as you see it. thick and long and pretty. he wraps his hand around it, rubbing at the head. you can't help but watch, greedy, as a white pearl of cum begins to bead at its tip.

"want it?" he asks despite knowing you do. "should make you beg, shouldn't i? make you beg for my cock."

you open your mouth to do just that but then he's on you. seungcheol's large hands are on your body, moving you, manipulating you. he flips you onto your front, moving you to rest on your knees. you can feel him press his cock against your ass, and, like a slut, you push back against him, hoping he'd fuck into you.

seungcheol does. he fucks into your cunt, shoving his dick into your pussy and mounting you like an animal. as if you were both animals. he allows your pussy to adjust for just a moment, just long enough for you to grab at the ground and bury your face against the cold dirt.

and then seungcheol's fucking you. he rams his cock into your pussy, relentless. the angle due to the position has you drooling, has you biting your lips and moaning.

"take it," he commands, hands grabbing at your hips. he holds you still, making you take his cock. "running from me like you're not mine, like you're not mine to fuck. like your cunt isn't mine, princess, like you're warm little pussy isn't mine to fuck and breed and your body isn't mine."

and seungcheol fucks you like you're his. fucks you like you're his and nobody else's, like he owns you, owns you just to fuck you.

you could nearly cum like that.

but he doesn't let you.

because choi seungcheol looks like a cute, doting boyfriend. but underneath underneath that he's a mean, greedy wolf that wants.

seungcheol draws out of you, the slide of his dick making your toes curl. he manipulates you again, arms wrapping around your waist and lifting. he uses his strength to bring snap his dick into your pussy over and over, relentless in his search.

"fucking princess," he growls. and then his fingers are back to your cunt, sliding against your wet pussy and finding your clit. he matches his pace with how he rubs at your clit, and soon enough he's bringing an orgasm that comes crashing through your body.

he doesn't stop there of course. seungcheol continues fucking you. he rams into your pussy, shoving his fat dick into your warm pussy.

"mine," he says, voice low in the back of his throat. seungcheol ducks his head, pushing you back to the ground and covering your body with his. you can see his canines, long and white, glinting; can see the ring of golden that had begun to grow around his pupils.

"yours," you agree.

you quickly become oversensitive. each thrust in and out has you whining, has you wiggling in his grasp. seungcheol doesn't care. you don't protest and so he continues, fucking into you.

you orgasm again. seungcheol grins, teeth sharp. "that's it," he says. "milk my cock, pretty girl."

he's moving you again. you're light underneath his hands, his strength allowing him to move you however. he's moving you back onto your front, one arm looping around your middle to keep your ass pressed against him and his cock sheathed deep in your pussy.

but it's not satisfying. not to him.

and so he moves again. he pushes you, his hand between the blades of your back and keeping you still. each slap of his hips against you leaves a sting, but it's so delicious you can't, and don't want to, do anything other than take it.

in this new position he seems to find what he was searching for. seungcheol growls, something that sounds more animal than human. he rams into you, cock striking your core with each thrust, harsh and strong and rough.

you know you're making loud, obnoxious whines. but you can't stop. not when he's fucking you like he wants to breed you, when he's fucking you like this.

"fuckin' running from me," he hisses, "running like you're not mine. i've got you, princess. fucking got you."

when seungcheol cums he's filling you to the brim. he's painting the inside of you white with his spunk, marking you. when he pulls out he's still hard, and he takes himself in hand. seungcheol fucks into his fist as he looks at you, eyes roaming over your body as you lay against the forest floor.

when he spills again it's on your bare ass, marking you on the outside. you don't think he'll ever stop cumming. eventually, however, he does.

seungcheol drapes himself over you, ignoring the mess. he pants into your ear, arms wrapping around your body and holding you.

you don't know how long the two of you lay on the ground. the front of your body, the part pressed against the dirt, is cold. everywhere seungcheol touches is warm, and when he finally goes to pull away you whine, not wanting to loose his touch.

in the end seungcheol carries you back to the car. he holds you like you weigh nothing. you can see the gold begin to eclipse the brown of his eyes, and when he speaks its in a rasp.

he tucks you into the car, pulling the blankets around your body. seungcheol presses kisses to your face, lingering, not wanting to leave.

when he finally does move from you he's at the edge of transformation. he can barely speak, sweat beginning to dot his hairline.

but seungcheol darts forward for one more kiss despite this, clingy and wanting. because despite the werewolf exterior, despite the fact that he is, by all appearances he is a monster, seungcheol, under his skin, yours.

#svthub #svthub.collab #— jupiter writes #svt smut #seventeen smut #s.coups smut #scoups smut #svt fic #seventeen fic #kpop smut #kpop fic #choi seungcheol smut #choi seungcheol fic #svt #seventeen #scoups #s.coups #choi seungcheol

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euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

omg i LOVED open the way u wrote tae was so 😩✊💦💯✨ i’m addicted to ur writing style!!! if ur still doing requests could u pls do taehyung x reader where he’s your aunt’s boyfriend and he’s really into you and lowkey flirts with you but you don’t realize how much until you two are left alone 🫣 ends with smut and can be yandere hehe the rest is up to you bc i trust you dear author!!

𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭:

pairing: yandere! taehyung x f! reader

genre: smut || non-idol au || fluffy-ish but in a kinda dark way

summary: it’s wrong, but it feels so good.

word count: 4.5k

tags/ warnings: slight age-gap, stalking, infidelity, coercion, naive! reader, but she means well, anxiety, briefly mentioned panic attack, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction don’t be stupid), dom! tae, sub! reader, big dick! tae, ddlg themes, cry baby reader, thigh riding, fingering, dick riding, creampie, squirting, slight cum play, cockwarming

notes: yes! thank you for having so much faith in me, and i hope this lives up to your expectations :’)

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

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Taehyung remembers the exact day he fell in love with you. How he’d been mindlessly flicking through dating apps for a quick fuck; only to stumble across, well not you, but your aunt.

She was pretty. Conventionally attractive at most, a little plain, but seemed like she’d gotten around with enough men to please him for the night. The skimpy little lingerie pictures enough for him to know that she was somewhat desperate in her search for a partner and maybe all she had to offer was her decent body— by his standards.

And as he’d been scrolling through her other photos, mingled among half naked mirror selfies, there you were. The prettiest little thing he’d ever seen.

He’d found all your aunt’s social media before making the leap to message her, wanting to know just how close the two of you were and if this little plan of his would be worth it in the long run.

There were photos upon photos of you posted on every profile she had. Like a little trophy, your achievements now her own to flaunt to the world through the web.

You and your aunt were close. That much he had gathered from her social media. Peeved that he was unable to find your own, left to see your aunt’s grating face beside yours in every photo. Nothing a little editing couldn’t fix. He had already picked out a cute photo album for all the pictures he planned to take with you.

He later found out that his soon-to-be girlfriend was more your sister than auntie. With 15 years between your mother and herself, she’d always felt too young to be anything other than a sibling your mother was never willing to have, leaving you as an only child.

And only child who still lived home with their mother because the big wide world is too scary for some people.

That just gave Taehyung another reason to take care of you. While your mother bitched at you about finding a job, with him you wouldn’t have to lift a finger. The ground you stepped on too precious, hands too delicate, body a temple that he planned to worship.

Your aunt was a little older than he would usually go for, but anything to have you in his clutches, the sacrifice was worth every second.

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It’s easy to woo a woman who’s desperate. A few sweet nothings and a big dick can get you a long way with a pitiful lady whose self-esteem lays in the depths of hell. Luckily, he lurked that low, and now he had a prize he was trying to win, kneeling before the devil himself to have you as his own.

It wasn’t long before your aunt had invited him to dinner with you and your mother. Caring more about your validation than your mothers, but he wasn’t all that bothered about the woman anyways. A spitting image of you if you were to age 20 odd years. But it wasn’t her he was after.

And Taehyung could feel his cock throb under his slacks at the sight of you, fidgeting under his gaze as he takes a little longer than proper watching you from across the table; though neither your mother nor his girlfriend seemed to notice, too hung up in their own little catch-up to care.

He could see your fingers itching to pick up the crayons left by the last little family that had sat at the table, your eyes trained on the maze from the kids menu. Probably mapping out the way in your mind, squirming when he assumes you’d escaped the maze.

And Taehyung wants to coo when your mother tells one of the waitresses to clean up the mess; pitiful pout on your lips that you hide behind your teeth when she turns to you, asking what you wanted to order.

Your eyes flit to the menu, then to your mother, then over to Taehyung before blurting you’ll just have salad. Unbothered, your mother shrugs, calling over the waitress again when she asks the rest of the table if they’re ready to order.

Taehyung thinks the little dinosaur shaped nuggets would have suited you better. Maybe a pretty pink milkshake to match your pretty pink cheeks.

He wouldn’t mind feeding you spoonfuls of whipped cream between bites of french fries, and then buying you a cute strawberry cake for afters. You look like you might have liked the brownies and vanilla ice cream better though.

Maybe he could spoil you a little, buy you both and when you shake your head, claiming to be too full; he’d pull you over his lap, teasing the edge of your panties as he makes you lick the chocolate sauce off his fingers.

And oh how sweet you would taste after that. He doesn’t think he’d be able to stop kissing you until your lips are swollen with his love, sticky with his spit and left over ice cream that he would clean with his tongue.

His mood sours when his girlfriend runs a hand along the length of his thigh, lovestruck smile plastered on her face as your mother asks questions on how the two of them met.

His little fantasy of your perfect little date being shattered by the shrill voice of your aunt as he fawns over your new sweater that your mother informs them that you’d ordered online.

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He eased you into it. His own little game of how long he can keep up his flirty little touches before someone noticed.

Carefully brushing over your back as he walked past you. His arm slung around your shoulder when you’d be stood by yourself in the garden as the rest of your family gathers around the grill. More interested in the smell of food than one another.

But Taehyung found you didn’t like large groups of people, family or not, loud noises picking at your brain, like an itch that won’t go away until tears gathered on your waterline and Taehyung would have to sit in the corner of your room with you until you calmed down. Your head in his lap as he runs his fingers through your hair.

Because he seemed to be the only one who cared that you’d had a panic attack, worried to leave you alone, to cry until your head hurt. To then feel sorry for yourself as you curl up between the arms of your plushies that line the bed. Now why would you do that, when he could hold you tighter than your little bear ever could?

“Thanks for helping her. Poor thing, her anxiety has been worse as of late. Must be school” his girlfriend whispers from the door, heart swelling with happiness at the image of you two together.

“Having such large family gatherings isn’t helping” he mutters, tongue poking the inside of his his cheek as your aunt waves him off.

“We’ll get her to stay up in her room next week then”

Other times, his fingers lingering over your own a little longer than they should as he gives you gifts.

You assume Taehyung must come from money. If the shiny looking pearls that hung around your aunt’s neck were anything to go by. Her dead-end, 9-5 job could barely cover rent, you doubted she was splurging on overpriced rocks and fancy dinners that she flaunts when she comes over. Making you scroll through endless pictures of 5 course meals that you have no interest in.

He never spoke of himself much. You had never heard of his parents, nor did he ever seem busy with friends when it came to your weekly dinners. Your aunt didn’t seem to care either way; having won the jackpot with a rich, hot boyfriend that would fuck her like a common whore at night and treat her like royalty during the day.

Taehyung was very generous, you knew that much. He often came a couple of times a week to visit you with your auntie. And each week he would have a new gift for you.

“You spoil her too much” your mother had tutted one afternoon. You hadn’t said anything, too preoccupied with the paint set Taehyung had wrapped in pretty wrapping paper. Pink with scattered little red hearts.

You’d started to keep the wrapping paper Taehyung gave your gifts in. Gluing them in an empty notebook with the dates written in your best hand writing beside them. Because it felt like a waste to throw such pretty paper away. And it always left you wondering why he had so much wrapping paper to begin with. Maybe he just likes giving, and then you read online that it was a love language, did that mean Taehyung loved you?

Gentle touches had turned to your knees grazing as you sat beside one another on the couch. To you sat between Taehyung’s legs from the floor, while he sat on the chair as you both played a game on the TV.

Some evenings while his girlfriend helped your mother in the kitchen he would lay your thighs across his own, fingers skimming the bare skin until goosebumps prickled in his wake. And he’d hide a smile behind his hands as you squirmed over his lap.

He starts feeding you at dinner, disguised as him asking for your opinion on a new recipe he was trying out. To suggesting what you order when you go out for dinner together with your aunt who was in awe of how well the two of you got along.

Compliments had started off simple too.

‘You look pretty today’ turning to ‘My y/n is so beautiful’ while his arms wrap around your waist. Praise of your beauty never ending, it seemed Taehyung had a compliment stored away on his tongue for all hours of the day. Even when you’d just woken up, hair tangled and eyes a little puffy from eating ramen so late the night before. He had given you a gentle ‘good morning’ as he brought you into his chest for a hug.

His heart had swelled once you’d gotten more comfortable with him. Albeit still awfully shy, you had now started to approach him first. The years of dating your aunt finally paying off as you gift him your own paintings. Thank you cards decorated with the little stickers he’d bought for you and way too much washy tape.

His favorite of your little gifts so far had been the small cakes you’d baked after hearing him tell your beloved aunt that chocolate was his favorite. It wasn’t. It was yours, but he liked the smile on your face when he’d said that, and the fact you both had something in common, even it were as insignificant as your aunt had pointed out.

He’d tugged your chair closer to his own that evening. Aware of your eyes watching his every little move as he shoveled your cake into his mouth. Low hum of appreciation rumbling in his chest as he gives you a cheeky smile.

He adores the way your cheeks had flushed red when he’d carded his fingers through your hair, “So smart. It’s delicious, darling”

And you hadn’t been able to contain your smile.

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“Baby, can you take Y/n to the train station? I think she’s meeting a friend out of town but her mum’s gone for the weekend and I have work in the morning”

And of course he’d agreed.

And that’s how he found you, wrapped up warm in your winter coat in the passenger side of his car; nose red from the bitter cold morning air. Perfect for kissing, but he doesn’t want to scare you off when he’s so close to where he needs you.

“Meeting a friend?” he asks as you shut the car door. Leaning over to help strap you in, you don’t seem to mind, unfazed as his arm reaches over your body, and Taehyung thinks you really must be perfect; needing his help, needing someone to just take care of you in the way you deserve. In the way he knows you need.

“Yeah” you nod, voice barely above a whisper, but he hears you, attuned to how soft you spoke.

“A close one?”

You shrug. “We used to be, but she moved out of town for school and thought we’d catch up while she’s on winter break”

She.

Taehyung’s lips curl up, “Must be nice to catch up”

You hum at that. Feet tapping against the floor.

“You don’t look very excited, baby” his eyes flit to look at your face, teeth digging into your bottom lip.

He’s moments away from touching your lips, ready to scold you that you shouldn’t chew on the skin until it bled, a bad habit he’d come to see you have; but the car behind beeps and he’s stepping on the gas, eyes-brows furrowed in annoyance.

“Just a little scared of taking the train” you admit, hands tucked under your thighs.

“Nothing to be scared of, i’ll be here when you get back” he smiles over at you, and you nod slowly at that.

“Is that really okay?” you ask him.

And Taehyung wants to coo, “Of course, baby. Just call me when you’re on the way home, and i’ll be here right as the train gets in”

“Promise?” you look up at him through your lashes and Taehyung feels his cock throb at your desperation.

“Pinky promise” he gives you his little fingers after he parks the car.

You connect your finger with his own, gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips as he stamps your thumbs together.

“You got everything?” he asks, leaning over into the back seat to grab your bag.

“I think so” you nod.

“Money?”

You hum.

“What about my goodbye kiss?” he asks, and you simply blink up at him.

“Kiss?” you gape.

“Mhm” he nods, tapping his cheek.

“I thought kisses were only for family” you whisper and Taehyung’s head tips back against the seat.

“I am family, aren’t I?” he turns to look at you, and you think he looks sad, a pang of guilt striking through your heart at his disheartened expression.

Your head tilts a little, “I guess so”

You lean over the center console, hand landing on Taehyung’s thigh as you lean up to press a gentle kiss to his cheek. Taehyung turns his head a little, your lips pressing against the corner of his own, though you don’t seem to notice as you keep your eyes closed.

“Good girl, now be quick or you’ll miss the train” he runs his thumb over your cheek.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

As promised Taehyung was there when you’d gotten off the train. His arm wrapping tightly around your shoulder as he pulled you into his chest. The gentle beating of his heart through his thick sweater lulling your anxieties, fingers holding onto his arms like you would crumble if he were to let go of you.

“I got you this” you’d told him once you’d gotten home, inviting Taehyung in to warm up with a hot coffee before he left, “I got one too, so we could be matching” you rock back and forth on your feet.

You drop the little keychain into his palm, character from a game he’d seen you play many times carved out of wood and delicately painted.

“It’s beautiful, baby”

Taehyung thinks he can see the cogs of your mind start to overheat at the pet name. No more anxiety there to overshadow the term of endearment. Your cheeks flushing pink as you flop down onto the couch beside him.

“Come here and tell me about you day then” he pats his thigh.

You look up at him, eye brows furrowing in confusion.

“Need me to help you, hmm?” his hands hold under your arms, tugging you up your your legs straddle one of his thighs. You squeak at the sudden motion, hands grabbing onto his shoulders for support.

He feels your thighs clench as he stabilizes you, cunt throbbing as he holds onto your hips.

“Taehyung” you whisper, fingers clasped onto his sweater.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, gentle smile on his face. Expression so innocent you feel bad for thinking he had an ulterior motive.

“We’re not meant to be doing this” you squirm, pouting when his hands hold onto your hips tighter.

“Doing what?”

Your mouth stays shut, humiliation bubbling through your body as Taehyung watches your face. You shake your head.

“Don’t be shy, baby” he smiles, hand coming to cradle your face in his palm.

You lean into his touch. Hips stuttering forwards as he urges you on.

A chocked whimper drips off your tongue like honey as your panties brush against your clit.

“Like that baby?” he asks, shushing you when you open your mouth to protest.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you” he hums, rocking your hips for you. Your head falls onto his shoulder as jolts of pleasure wrack down your body, slick staining your panties.

A broken moan slips off your lips as Taehyung rocks you harder, slowly brining you to the peak of pleasure, moments away from tumbling into what will be your first orgasm of the night. You whimper against his neck, warm breath fanning his skin as you now rock your hips, Taehyung clenching the muscles of his thigh to help you get off.

“Go on little one, cum for me” Taehyung urges, hands slipping down to grab your ass as your hips stutter. Your thighs shake, teeth sinking into the skin of his neck as you fall over the edge. Little stars scattered behind your eye lids.

“Well done, baby” he soothes, pulling you into his chest.

Your breath comes out uneven, tears cascading down your cheeks in little pearls.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Taehyung pulls your face away from his neck, thumb coming to brush away your tears.

“I did something bad” you snivel, trying to pull yourself off Taehyung’s lap.

He hold you down, tutting. “You haven’t done anything wrong” he shakes his head, easy laugh reverberating through his chest and you just shake your head.

“You’re— you’re dating my aunt, we shouldn’t— I shouldn’t— I just- ” you squirm out of his lap.

Taehyung grabs onto your back, cradling your head between the junction of his neck and shoulder, rocking the both of you back and forth as you let the tears fall.

“You’re okay” he hushes, gentle hands rubbing down your back as you hiccup, “It’ll be our little secret, yeah? Just wanna make you feel good, you’ve been such a good girl recently”

Your shoulders shake as more tears dribble down your cheeks, “been good?” you ask, voice a little broken from the tears.

“Very good. The best even, don’t you think you deserve a treat?”

“Taehyungie always gives me a treat” you use the sleeve of your sweater to wipe your cheeks, hips rocking forward a little.

Taehyung’s hands smooth down your back, “I haven’t given you a treat for being so brave. Going on the train all by yourself, i’m proud of you, darling” he hums, bouncing the leg you were sat on.

Taehyung can feel your cunt clenching around nothing through his jeans, your hips rutting against his leg like a little puppy. He tangles a hand in your hair, pulling your face out of his neck and he feels his head tip back at the look of your tear streaked cheeks, a little blotchy, your eyes begging Taehyung to defile you.

“Has anyone ever touched you here, baby?” his hands slip between the waist band of your sweats, finger toying with the cute little bow on your underwear.

You nod, thigh twitching as Taehyung eases his hand into your panties. Fingers parting your slit, gathering your wetness before he slicks up your clit.

You fall into him, arms slung over his shoulders as he draws lazy circles on your sensitive pearl.

“Yeah? Did they make you cum?”

“No” you whisper, and Taehyung laughs. A daunting laugh that sends a shiver down your spine.

“That was selfish of them, wasn’t it, darling?” he frowns, and if you weren’t so drunk on the pleasure that consumed your body, you may have noticed how condescending his tone was.

“Let’s take these off, shall we” he pats your behind, smiling as you lift your ass high enough for him to slip both your sweats and panties over your thighs.

His fingers return to your clit, letting you buck your hips up to meet his fingers. You whine when he dips them lower, stimulation suddenly gone, the orgasm that was slowly building dissipating as he nudges the entrance to your cunt.

You roll your hips forward, wad of slick dripping from your hole onto his jeans as you wait for him to push a finger inside of you.

“Taehyungie” you snivel, another wave of pitiful tears glazing your cheeks in saline pearls.

“What, doll? What do you want Taehyungie to do?” he urges, blood flowing south at the way your mouth falls open in a pitiful whine. “I cant do anything if you don’t ask”

You take a hold of his hand, pulling it towards your sodden core, “here, please”

“Yeah?” he asks, sinking a finger into you.

You let out a breathy sigh as he adds a second, using your thighs to bounce on his fingers, you pull your sweater over your breasts, matching little bra on display for Taehyung to see.

“So cute, baby. And all mine” he croons, crooking his fingers, as he leans forward to press a kiss to the swell of your breast, your cheeks heating from the crude squelch your pussy was making.

Taehyung uses his free hand to tug your bra down, watching your cute tits as your bounce over his lap, your knee nudging against his cock.

“Want you to come over my cock, darling” he groans, fingers slipping from wet core.

You unzip his jeans, fingers a little shaky as you help his pull both his pants and boxers off before they’re discarded on the floor somewhere.

It felt wrong. Fucking in the living room where anyone could open the front door and walk in. You might have been a little more worried if you mum wasn’t gone for a couple of days, and you knew your aunt was at work.

You felt a pang of guilt at the thought of your aunt. What would she think if she were to find out.

But Taehyung just wanted to make you feel good. Surely there was nothing wrong with that.

“Up you go” Taehyung helps you straddle both his thighs, hard cock slapping against your leg, coating it in a sheen of his sticky precum.

He holds the shaft, one hand on your thigh to help lower you onto his cock. You whimper as the thick head pops through your entrance, your mouth falling open as a lick of pain shoots up your spine.

You stay with the tip sat inside you, your hips rocking a little to try and adjust to the size.

“Good girl, you’re doing so well for me” he shushes when you moan, trying to push in another inch.

Taehyung spits onto two of his fingers, bringing them down to toy with your clit. Your thighs quiver, sinking another inch of his thick cock inside of you. “Almost there, baby”

You pull up until the tip, dropping all the way so your ass meets his thighs. You wrap your arms around his neck, a fresh wave of tears dribbling down your cheeks.

“No need to cry” Taehyung eases his hands down your sides, tongue poking out to wet his lips as he feels your cunt convulse around his length.

“Feels good” you hiccup, “like feeling full”

Taehyung groans at that, hands gripping the meat of your waist, pulling you up his length before he slowly sinks you back down. You moan, breathy and cute and Taehyung wishes he could shove you against the couch and fuck you within an inch of your life but he supposes your first time together could be a little slower.

“Just like that” he praises as you start to bounce on his cock, wetness pooling around the base, coating your own thighs in your own heady arousal.

It was lewd, the noises your pussy were making as you dropped back down onto Taehyung’s dick. He uses the floor as leverage, fucking up into you, making sure his cock was as far into you as he could go.

You cry out, his name the only words you seemed to know as your orgasm slowly starts to build.

Your teeth nip at his neck, saliva painting his skin. “Wanna cum” you whine.

Your breathing stutters when his fingers find your clit, relentless as he flicks the swollen bud. Your thighs start to shake, leaving Taehyung to thrust up into you with all he had.

“Wait—“ you squeak, vulgar moan cutting you off, “feels like i’m gonna pee” you cry, trying to push yourself off Taehyung’s cock. He holds you down, continuing to fuck up into you.

“Just let it go, doll” he groans, head tipped back against the back of the couch.

“No” you cry, “I really have to—“ you’re cut off as you feel what you can only describe as an explosion of wetness leak from your cunt.

Taehyung’s cock slips out of you at the force of it, your thighs shaking as Taehyung holds you to his chest, fingers slowing down their figures of eight on your clit as he helps you ride out your high.

“Well done, baby. You squirted” he soothes, lazy smile on his face as he lines his cock back up with your cunt, “it’s almost over, i’m close” he tells you.

You simply lay slumped against his chest. Hips jutting forward in overstimulation as Taehyung slowly drags his cock through your walls.

“Too much” you try to pull away, only for Taehyung to bring his hand down, a harsh slap on your ass.

You hiccup at that, walls sporadically clenching around his length to bring him to his peak.

Taehyung’s hips stutter, thrusts sloppy as he nears his orgasm. You feel his cock twitch before he’s flooding your cunt with his thick cum, painting your walls white.

You cum again at the feeling as Taehyung continues to rock into you, his dick slipping out of your soiled hole before he’s pushing it back into you again, making sure his cum is as deep as it can go before he keeps you sat on his cock.

He slowly starts to soften inside of you, dick twitching in interest as your cunt continues to clench around his length.

And it’s not long before you’re dozing off, still impaled on his cock as he presses a kiss to the side of your head.

“My precious girl” he smiles.

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #taehyung #taehyung x y/n #taehyung fic #taehyung smut #bts x reader #bts requests #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #bts yandere #bts au #yandere taehyung #our little secret

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softlyspector · 6 months

Text

Apple cinnamon

Summary: You and Joel get away for the weekend.

Pairing: tattoo artist!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word count: ~5.3k

Warnings: fall themed!, no outbreak tattoo!au, reader has issues with touch, brief insecurity and anxiety, fluff, uhhhh and smut! (not saying what it's a surprise but be aware yknow), many feelings

A/N: Honeyed is BACK, baby! And I'm so happy I get to share them with you again. As always, we are pretending Joel can draw. Thank you for reading! I would love to know your thoughts! Please please please, be sure to leave feedback!

You can find out how Joel and Honey got together here.

“Maybe we go north in search of some cooler weather.”

It’s mid November and the Texas sun still burns hot and bright, shining onto the back deck of the Miller home in undulating drifts.

The air is scented warm, and old. It smells like sunshine on decaying leaves, like cloves and cinnamon and the bitter acidity of Joel’s coffee.

Joel isn’t quite looking at you, his gaze turned toward the edge of his property. Steam curls in the air above his mug, liquid the color of pitch swirling in its depths. It’s some small miracle that you’ve managed to get him to add cinnamon to the coffee grounds. You have a very strong suspicion that it has everything to do with you mentioning how nice it tasted.

You put your book down and fold it closed over one finger to hold your place.

Mornings are always spent like this when you stay over at Joel’s. Coffee on the back deck in the sun, Joel silent as he stares out across the yard, you reading and pretending not to notice him watching for the deer he started leaving corn out for. Joel hadn’t named the chickens, but you’ve very sure the deer have identities, and even assumed personalities.

“And do what?” You ask, propping your chin in your hand.

He shrugs and takes a long sip of his coffee, like it’s inconsequential to him. He still doesn’t look at you, a muscle jumping in the strong line of his jaw.

But you know Joel now, and he probably has a map hidden somewhere with the scenic routes north traced out, the stops you could take along the way clearly marked and noted in the margins in his messy handwriting. He has such a particular way of making you feel special, like he was always thinking about you. You know, now, that the clenching of his jaw is his own nerves beating against the back of his throat.

“I’d like that,” you say, tilting your head to the side. “Like a road trip?”

“Mm.” He glances at you and then back to the treeline, now leafless, bare and unprotected. The world seems so much wider, so much bigger and lonelier. “Just for a couple days.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Joel sets his coffee cup down and labors to his feet and when he passes you, he leans down to press a kiss to your temple. “Next weekend work for you, honey?” He asks against your skin.

“It does.”

“Good.”

The sky is still a purplish dawn blue when Joel pulls up to your apartment building.

He intends on shutting off the engine and knocking, so he can take your bag and carry it down the stairs and open the door for you, but as soon as his truck comes to a halt the street door flies open.

You cross the sidewalk in two big steps and open the truck door, even as Joel is leaning across the passenger seat to do it for you.

He huffs gently, mildly irritated that you’re snatching the chance to be gentlemanly right out of his hands. His mama raised him better than letting a lady open her own door.

But the exasperation melts away as soon as he glances up into your face and finds you smiling at him. It’s a big smile, and bright.

“Well,” he says. “G’mornin’, ma’am.”

“Hi, Joel,” you laugh. It’s a rare thing but getting less so and he already feels like he’s doing everything he should be. “I, uh,” you gesture to your bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” he snaps his seatbelt off. “Hold on.”

He rounds the truck and takes your bag from you to slide in next to his in the backseat while you climb into the passenger seat and immediately start fiddling with the radio.

“I could have done that,” you say when he’s back behind the wheel.

“No need for you to do it,” he answers. And then, because you’re still smiling and clearly giddy, he asks, amused, “You excited?”

The morning is warm and your shoulders are bare in the early slant of the sun. He takes stock of your shoulder tattoo, eyes sliding across the ink he’d put there to cover up something you hated. It looks good on you and you seem, at least to him, to feel more confident for it.

He tells himself it’s the tattoo that’s done that, anyway.

Joel still draws designs for you anytime he gets the chance, and he pretends he hasn’t noticed you doing the same for him, though he hasn’t gotten to see any of them yet.

Your shoulders tip inward just a fraction. You fade, wilt, just the tiniest bit at his question. “I just love road trips.”

“Good,” he slides his hand over yours. “Otherwise things were about to get mighty uncomfortable.”

You loosen again, smile and lean against the center console. “Good morning, Joel.”

“Hi, honey,” he answers and it feels sappy and stupid and he loves it. You deserve it, and some days, he thinks he might, too.

You lean easily into his hands, chin dropped into the cupped palms of his hands, eyes focused and waiting. When he kisses you hello, you taste like mint.

Joel tilts your head back, slides one hand along your jaw, fingers digging into the soft skin behind your ear, while the other shifts to your waist, dragging you that much closer, even though the center console prevents him from bringing you as close as he’d like.

Your lips part against his at his slightest urging, like you’re desperate to give yourself over to him these days. He can’t say the sentiment isn’t returned. He wishes he could pull you closer, drag you into him, soothe the ache that gnaws at his belly. When your tongue slides against his you make a tiny sound in the back of your throat that makes him groan softly into you.

You’re glowing when he pulls back. You always look pretty through the haze of early morning sunshine. “Suppose we should get to it, huh?”

“Yeah,” you duck your head, smile twitching at the corners of your mouth. “Where’s the map?”

“How’d y’know I got a map?”

You roll your eyes. “Because you’re you. And you don’t even use the computer you have, I know you aren’t trusting the map on your phone.”

Said paper map is grudgingly dropped into your hands. You unfold it and you smile when you take in the outlined routes north, the point of your finger dipping along the marked lines.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you shake your head and seem amused. You lean over and kiss his cheek and everything in the world feels like it might be okay. “Let’s get coffee before we get on the road.”

The drive is long, but peaceful, and the routes Joel had mapped out are so far out of the way that you never even see a sign for the interstate.

You head east first and then north, stopping wherever Joel sees fit to, in tiny towns and oddly quaint little villages where the trees are somehow still fringed in orange and red and brown, where locals tell winding ghost stories, where everything feels storybook perfect in the chilliness that settles in the air, swaddled between one night’s moon and the morning.

Each stop feels like it’s preserved in honey and amber.

There always seems to be some tiny autumn festival with apple bobbing and corn mazes and haunted houses and stalls that sell apple pie and cider, locally made crafts and novelty t-shirts. The ghost tours are a little funny, and not at all spooky. It’s surprising they’re still telling those stories, so far past Halloween.

You get lost in one of the corn mazes, fingers tangled together stickily, the red syrup from candied apples staining your tongue red and pink. Joel doesn’t much care for public displays of affection, but when you find yourself in a particularly deserted portion of the maze and escape seems impossible, he pulls you in tight and kisses you. He kisses the cherry and apple taste right from your lips. He tastes like the sweetness of caramel and cream, coffee and cinnamon.

There’s a buzzing kind of lightness in your veins, like a colony of little bees busy building something permanent in your chest. The chill feels nice, the heat of his chest pressed to yours, even better. The quiet shush of the stalks is a gentle music.

When you escape the maze, Joel folds his fingers between yours again and kisses the back of your hand.

You pick apples right from the tree one state over from the corn maze, and promise Joel that you’ll try not make them into something resembling pie when you get back home. You’re both poor cooks, and even worse at baking.

But you’ll try, for him.

And Joel will eat it and grimace, and tell you it’s good, and you’ll pretend to believe him.

A couple hours down the road from the apples, there’s a pumpkin patch. You pay a couple bucks each to smash the last of the season’s left over pumpkins, already starting to rot. The cab of the truck smells like pumpkin guts for a few hours after that, on account of all the muck of it all over your clothes. You think it's funny, and Joel smiles, a good sport about pumpkin guts all over his truck and clothes.

Joel hums while he drives, to whatever music you put on. Sometimes he complains about your choice in music, but he always settles into it. He holds your hand and turns down the volume when you start to talk about something.

He doesn’t complain when you keep his hand in yours, tracing the lines in his hands and the bump of veins in his wrist and the back of his hand. It’s his fault, you’d say, if he ever said something about it. He’s made you like this, desperate and needy for something only he can give to you.

It’s his fault, that you’re healing and happier and looking to the future. It’s his fault, all of it.

On your last night you stop in an inn after driving and indulging in any little thing for the better part of a very long day. You’re still a day’s drive away from home, but in the morning you are heading home.

You eat at the restaurant on the first floor of the hotel, watch Joel finish out dinner with yet another slice of apple pie and another cup of black coffee before you head to your room and throw open the window of your room to a chilly night.

Real chilly, that is, not Texas chilly. And tomorrow you’ll go back to that decidedly not seasonally appropriate weather.

The sky is a dusky, autumn purple, tinged at the edges with midnight blue and a dying crimson. A sharp wind whips the curtain back, and the air you breathe in burns your lungs.

You shiver and turn to Joel with a small smile. His mouth quirks in return.

“Good day?”

“Mhm. Really good.”

He shifts and then pulls off his jacket and toes off his boots by the door, still looking down. “You sure?” Joel asks offhandedly. “This trip wasn’t a total waste of time for ya?”

“Of course not,” you murmur, trying to suppress a smile.

He glances up from folding his jacket over the back of the chair in the corner.

The question mark etched into his voice makes your chest ache. “I like spending time with you, you know,” you tease. You reach a hand out, open and close your fingers to beckon him closer.

“I know,” Joel says but doesn’t protest, just walks closer until you can fit your hands against his chest. You trail your fingers to the collar of his flannel, not daring to meet his eyes, and pluck open the first button.

When he doesn’t stop you, you continue, pushing one button after another through its little pocket until you run out of room and the material parts in your hands. His breathing hitches when you draw your hands back up to his chest, nerves stretched thin. You are still unable to meet his eyes, and so you stare at his collarbone instead, the broad planes of his chest, the line of his shoulders, and slide your thumb along the base of his throat.

It would be nice, to kiss him there, to press the edge of your teeth against his skin.

Joel’s skin is warm, shaded from hours spent in the sun. The muscle flexes beneath your touch, tendons tightening and straining in his neck. This close he smells like the earthen fields you’d walked through earlier, the crisp tangle of apples, woodsmoke on chilled air. He groans softly when you lean in.

The breeze from the window is icy against your back, raking deep nails into your flesh in a shiver that traces each vertebrae in your spine. You lean in, tipping your head forward, intoxicated by the scent of him, the feeling of his skin beneath your hand, the warmth he radiates like a furnace.

Maybe he’s looking at you the same way, drawn like a moth to flame, to your body, to the heat of you.

Joel cups one hand around your wrist and the little illusion shatters immediately. “Look at me, honey.”

You raise your eyes from the broad stretch of his shoulders to his gaze, embarrassment pooling in your belly with a sharp twist. “What?”

He shakes his head and presses one big hand against your jaw. Instead of answering, he kisses you, his other hand anchoring against your hip. You feel him smile against your mouth, amusement pouring off him in waves. “You’re just real pretty when you want somethin’.”

“Ugh,” you push him gently away and turn out of his grip. A smile pulls at your own mouth when you close the window to the night and pull the blinds and then the curtains. “You’re very funny and very cruel.”

His arms circle you again, tight and thick around your body. “I ain’t either of those things.” His lips brush the space behind your ear, the shell of it, until another shiver slides up your spine. “But you are pretty.”

And he is cruel. Your want for each other has flowered over the last few days. Though you’re used to sharing a bed with Joel, sharing a hotel room has been different. It’s been more intense, more intimate. Especially when you’ve spent every single second together, still smelling of each other and the cold and outside when you climb into bed, even after showering, like you aren’t quite able to rid yourself of the other.

Joel is too polite, too cautious with you, to do anything about it. He waits for you, always.

But you want so badly it’s like a physical ache in your chest, resting thick fists against your breast bone, hammering against your lungs, the slippery, wet viscera of your heart.

The stubble on his jaw scrapes against your cheek, the prickle of it pleasant. It sends shockwaves across your skin, bolts of electricity sparking in your veins, right to your belly. Something in your chest tightens, but not the usual thing that makes you want to cower away from arms curled around your body, but the kind that pinches in and makes you want to stay, makes you want to fall into him.

His hands could wrap around the curves of your ribs and tear open your chest and you would let him, because he would be that much closer. The feeling still scares you, just a little bit. It makes your skin tighten and smart.

It also makes you feel safe and calm.

The contrast is dizzying and, you feel, easily misplaced in your mind, considering how badly you want him. So, you turn in his arms and say, “You are, too. Real pretty.”

It’s delightful, the way his cheeks go pink right beneath his beard. He clears his throat gruffly and pulls just slightly out of your grasp. “You, uh, wanna get ready for bed? Or we can go on that shitty ghost tour that guy at the front desk told us about.”

You think of it for a moment—you and Joel, hands tangled together, led around the little town’s main thoroughfare, staying toward the back of the group packed with local couples having a date night outing. It would be cold and Joel would put his arm around your back and you’d probably drink something warm.

But—

“Mm,” you hum, looking him over. “I’m tired, I think.”

“All right,” he pushes on your hip, pats the curve of your waist gently. “Get goin’ then.”

You cup your hands against his jaw and kiss him one last time, tasting the lingering press of apple pie and vanilla cream against your tongue. “Thank you for today,” you say. “For the last few days.”

Joel, always bad with thank yous, just nods, like it was a given he should give you such a special little trip.

More weekends than not, these days, you stay over at Joel’s place on the weekends. He likes having you there, even if the weekday evenings are a little lonelier for it. He likes waking up with you, likes getting to see you at your most raw and unfiltered. And, you always look most beautiful in the morning light, when you’re smiling at him just because he fixed you a cup of coffee.

The other part of that is that he likes getting to sleep next to you, even on the nights where you don’t touch. He likes having you within an arm’s reach, rather than halfway across town in an apartment he worries about the safety of. Most nights that you stay with him are bliss. They are—you in his arms, your mouth against his, his hands tracing your bare skin, your tattoos, in the darkness of his bedroom, your fingers on his naked skin.

He always stops before things go too far, because that’s not what you need from him. You need slow and steady and sure. And that’s what he gives you. Even if he wants you so badly it hurts sometimes.

But you’ll let him know when you’re ready. He knows you feel it too, that pull, but he also knows that the fear always wins out, too.

This night with you, fresh from the shower, skin pliant and soft against his, feels different.

You’re just as easy in his arms, just as comfortable and soft.

But, somehow, it feels different, in this dark, unfamiliar hotel room in this tiny town with winter cold knocking at the windows. The scent of your skin is different, like salted caramel and chilled autumn air and him. You’ve spent so much time in his truck and his house that you’ve started to smell like home.

Usually, you smell like summer, like the earthy smell of sun-warmed skin, like coconut and spun sugar, and he misses it. He can’t wait to have you back home.

He swears he can taste the damp of your skin, water left over from the shower, the tang of your sweat against his tongue when he sucks a harsh line down your throat.

You make a keening noise, delicate with want, low in the back of your throat. His thigh is between your legs. That’s new, something recent that’s been happening more and more in the last few weeks, something you haven’t gotten self conscious or worried about wanting, about taking. You never get off that way, though he wishes you would.

He can feel the heat of your pussy through two layers of fabric. You grind against the muscle. That feels different here, too. It feels more.

He presses warm palms on your waist and hips and ribs. He traces the outline of your tattoo, taps his fingers along your spine.

His touch is the same as he always makes it, slow and steady and sure, and only asking for as much as you’ll give.

But your hands trail hot across his chest, against his neck. Something about you seems different, hungrier.

“Joel,” you murmur into his throat, lips brushing his collarbone. Your hips stop their slow roll against him. “I want to touch you.”

“Honey,” he grits, an ache forming hard and low in his gut, when your hands slide down his chest to his belly. His cock twitches and he knows you must feel it. “You sure that’s what you want?”

You stop, fingers grazing his lower stomach before you retract them. “I won’t if you—”

“No,” his hand curls around yours, keeping it in place against his skin. “I want it more than you can know, darlin’. Just don’t seem very gentlemanly of me.”

“Why?”

You tilt your head, that odd little thing you do, more animal than person sometimes in your curiosity. The dark of the room casts your face, and your eyes, in shadows. You look hungry, needful.

“‘Cause the right thing for me to do would be to touch you first, honey. Ladies first n’all.” The ache claws at him again, slides hot fingers around his lungs. “Baby, I want to. I wanna touch you so bad.”

It feels damn near wrong to admit but you just hum.

You nudge your forehead against his. “I want this first. I want to touch you. Wanna make you feel good. Can I?”

He nods, just once, and releases your wrist, because you said it’s what you want. And he does too, whether he should or not. Your hand slips lower, beneath the waistband of his briefs, and then your fingers are circling tight and hot around his cock.

A curse breaks past his lips.

Your breathing hitches against his neck, the muscle straining against your lips when he grits his teeth. You press your mouth against his skin, your curled fist slowly stroking down, thumb curving over the tip. “Oh,” you murmur, your lashes tickle against the underside of his jaw.

He grunts against you, but you just kiss the rapidly pounding pulse in his throat. Your teeth dig into his skin, the curve of his collarbone, sharp and sudden. You bite him, tongue following the sting, hot and wet. You twist your wrist around him, dragging a sound up out of him that borders on obscene.

“Is that good, Joel?”

Christ.

You’re going to kill him.

“Yeah,” he grunts.

You’re going so fucking slow at it, the caress of your hand careful and too warm, dragging the precome at the head down, your palm not nearly slick enough.

But he doesn’t want you to stop, it feels so fucking good. And Joel knows he’s going to embarrass himself, because he’s older and no one had touched him like this in a long time. He’s going to come quick.

The way you’re stroking him is better than the way he’s hastily been touching himself in the shower lately, his own palm so rough and quick, staving off the images that come unbidden. You above him, sinking down onto his length, features twisted in pleasure; you falling to your knees, lips a little o as you take him into your mouth—

Another moan slips past gnashed teeth when your fingers graze the skin of his balls, palm almost curious when you cup him in your hand.

“Gimme your hand.”

You’re breathing hard against him, chest rising and falling against his arm, the peaks of your tightened nipples brushing his bicep. You nod against him, forehead pressed against his jaw, eyes glued to his cock when you push his briefs down and pull your hand away from him.

You don’t question what he wants with your hand, and so when he spits into your palm, you gasp and then groan.

Well, thank Christ for that. Thank fucking God you liked it. His dick jumps in your hand when you slide it back over his skin, the slick noise of it intoxicating.

Your hand is smaller than his, the way you touch him so different from the way he touches himself. You’re soft with it, and slower. When you curl yourself tighter into his side, mouth pressed to the pulse in his throat, he reaches for you, touches the curve of your hip and the dip of your waist.

A needy little sigh snaps out against his collarbone, and you tilt your face up to kiss him, the press of your lips wet and soft and open. He wants to devour you, push you back and learn every single inch of you, all the parts of you he wants so badly to memorize.

Really, he just wants his face in your pussy, to swallow you down, find out what your cunt feels like clenching around his fingers.

But you said—

This first. Him first. Your tight fist around his cock, learning him first, making him come first. His hand trails up your side, cups your breast through your shirt, pinches the stiff peak of your nipple softly to be rewarded with a keening sound that makes him buck his hips up into your hand.

“Christ,” he mutters against your mouth, cupping your jaw in his hard. Your pupils are blown wide, lips swollen from kissing him. You tasted like apple pie, even though he was the one that had it at dinner. “Doin’ so good, feels so good. My good girl.”

Your eyes flutter shut, forehead knocking against his again, moaning so soft against him, breath a tiny little huff against his lips. “You feel good,” you say, stroking him slower, steady. “So good, Joel.”

He’d never admit it, but that white hot thing curling around his spine goes tight with your words, and just like that he’s at the brink of spilling over your fingers.

“Honey—” he tries to warn you but you just twist your wrist and say it again.

“So good. Always good to me,” your breath washes warm over his skin. His chest goes hot and tight, a groan tearing right out of his throat, straining against you, fucking up into your hand as he spurts over your fingers, praises from your mouth still being gifted to him, over and over and over, pleasure stealing his voice.

You, you, you.

Everywhere, his whole world in this dark room, kissing him saying thank you and you did so good and thank you for letting me touch you.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. He doesn’t do well with thank you, it curls up tight around the bones in his chest, stomps on something delicate.

His mind goes silent and still, satiated and warm with your praise, despite himself. You believe things about him that he’ll never believe about himself. But he needs to give back to you, sink his fingers into you and give that pleasure right back to you. He’s desperate for it. He doesn’t need anything else but that, to make sure you’re taken care of, that you feel as good as he does, better.

But when he reaches for you, you push his hands away. “No. No. I don’t want anything. It’s all right. It’s okay to just take things sometimes, Joel.”

It feels wrong to let it go, to take from you, but he does. You’re saying no, and he has to be okay with that. There are tissues in a box on the nightstand that make for quick cleanup. He’s only a little shamed by that, though you don’t seem to mind.

Hands through his hair, massaging the back of his neck, the knots permanently twisted into the top of his spine. Your fingers are sleepy, going slower and slower until they stop and only occasionally twitch when you momentarily jerk back awake again.

“Go to sleep, darlin’,” he murmurs against your forehead, the curl of your body tucked in close to his, warm and safe, both of you.

The next morning, you wake well before Joel. His face is slack, years washed away from his face in sleep, hair mussed and unkempt.

He’s snoring lightly.

When you pull away and sit up next to him, toes brushing the cold floor, the worry hits you like a freight train. Anxiety, like it had pooled somewhere different during the night, rushes in to hit you all at once.

Maybe you should have let him touch you. You have that feeling again, like maybe you’d done something wrong, maybe you were proving again that you were too slow to love and so that was grounds for him to decide you’re not worth it.

You touched him, made him come with your hand, praised him for giving that to you when you could not give him yourself in return.

That had been easy in the moment.

Now, it just feels wrong again. You should have given more, given him your body.

But. . . it’s just the past snapping at your heels again, old worries with a new person. A different person, who doesn’t think those things. You trust Joel, in so many ways. You trust him with this too, that he wouldn’t take what you weren’t yet willing to give.

That slows the spiral, just a little, and so does his hand against your back, his lips against the column of your neck. “G’mornin’,” he grumbles, the sound of his voice deep down in the well of his chest.

“Hi.”

“You upset with me? Looks like you’re thinkin’ pretty hard. I’m. . .I should have—”

And, typical, Joel is thinking the opposite.

“No,” you say and twist to face him, pushing him back down with a palm against his chest, sitting cross legged beside him. “No. I was thinking you might. . .just the same shit as always. I’m hard work and I’m taking too long for you.”

He watches you, one big hand cupped around the back of your knee. “You know that ain’t it,” he says, so steady and steadfast.

“I was trying to remember that,” you admit.

“Okay,” he agrees. “Good. But I’ll tell ya. It ain’t that.” His thumb arcs over your skin, the knob of bone in your shin, careful and slow. “It’s not that.”

You smile and lie back down with him, fingers against the edge of his jaw. “That’s not it either. What you’re thinking.”

“Okay.” He tucks an arm around your back, hand flat between your shoulder blades. “Should have at least asked a second time before fallin’ asleep on ya.”

“No,” you say. “You were perfect for me.”

You swear you can feel the heat of his flush against your skin.

Even though you have a long drive ahead, the bed is warm and the air is so cold, so you stay wrapped up there between the duvet and Joel’s arms, careful as he always is with you, waiting until you absolutely have to get up.

The knot of want in your belly hasn’t loosened, but something is satiated all the same. You have something real now, an image of Joel’s cock in your hand, the straining pulse of his throat, the sounds he made. You have that, for those nights you let yourself think about something more. You gave him something, instead of the other way around, something you wouldn’t have been able to months or weeks before.

The scruff of his beard is soft beneath your fingertips, his eyes shut now as you stroke his skin, those little lines beside his eyes, the scar on the bridge of his nose. “When I’m ready,” you say, not looking away when he opens his eyes, even though you want to. “I think I’ll probably let you do anything you want to me.”

💞 Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are so appreciated. 💞

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction

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sapphicseasapphire · 5 months

Text

Thoughts to ponder.

Tears of the Kingdom spoilers (and lots of rambles) under the cut

When I started the Chain as Cryptids au, I didn’t really think I’d be able to work Tears of the Kingdom in, seeing how much I had changed Wild’s story. He’s a spirit with no memory of the Hylian he once was. He’s a force to be reckoned with but can be easily spooked- much like a wild animal. He avoids Flora like the plague since she’s his connection to the life he used to have. The life that isn’t his anymore.

But then… I had an idea. Flora would be desperate to find her Link again after discovering that he’s still alive (or… not really alive. Not quite a Poe but not quite a Hylian either). Regardless, after the events of Breath of the Wild, she’d start a search party and scour every corner of Hyrule to find him.

She never would. When spirits don’t want to be seen, they aren’t. But… this whole time, I imagined that Korok Forest acted as a sort of home base for Wild. Wild cannot speak verbally but can communicate telepathically with other spirits and spiritual beings. The Koroks and Blupees would be like siblings to him, the Deku Tree being like a parental figure since he basically started life over when he died. (Two Links raised by the Great Deku Tree. He and Time can bond over that later).

ANYWAY. Wild used the Master Sword for about half of the events of Breath of the Wild. But when it would need to recharge, he’d place it back in the pedestal in Korok Forest where it could become stronger under the watchful gaze of the Great Deku Tree. Then he’d be off, never staying in one place for too long, wandering the sandy shores of Necluda or the lava banks of Eldin.

This pattern would stay in place for years after the defeat of Calamity Ganon: Wild stopping at Korok Forest to reunite with his family and let the Master Sword heal and then disappearing into the wilds once more. And over the years, Flora’s search party would shrink until it was just her scouring the continent for her missing knight. Okay, yeah, maybe she’s a little desperate, but she can’t bear the thought of him alone out there. Not when he died because of her. Not when he’s all she has left.

And… when the Master Sword is recharging, that’s when Flora would finally take her search to Korok Forest. She finds the sacred blade but her knight is nowhere to be seen. The Deku Tree allows her to take it, urging her onward, warning her that eventually, she’ll have to use it. She heeds his wisdom, pulling the sword from her resting place and securing it on her back. Then she begins her search anew.

She doesn’t find him.

She trains with the Master Sword while she travels Hyrule. She starts to rebuild. She gets to know her people. And from the cover of countless trees and stone, a certain spirit watches her and his sword.

During her travels, Flora encounters a strange red-black mist that makes her people ill. They call it ‘gloom.’ And, what’s worse, it seems to pour out from under Hyrule Castle. The castle has laid untouched for years now, ever since the Calamity was sealed away and she set out on her search. But now, it would seem that she’s needed once more at the site of her greatest battle. The subject of her nightmares. The place where she los the last piece of her home.

Without her knight at her side, she makes her way to the forgotten foundation of her old life. She’s alone when she travels through the caverns, alone when she follows the melancholy most past murals and carvings that she itches to explore. Flora is alone when the Master Sword glows in warning. Alone when she battles monsters waiting for her in the depths.

The princess is all alone when she discovers a mysterious mummy being held in place by a single glowing arm. She watches as the appendage falls away, a stone falling to the rocky ground with an unassuming click. As she reaches to pick it up, the corpse reanimates. It stands tall, more alert and aware than any Gibdo she’s seen on her journey, and fixes her with a stare that she’d crumble under. She drops her torch and draws the Master Sword, holding the unfamiliar yet warm stone to her chest, and the mummy laughs at her.

It knows her name.

And it attacks.

Flora is alone when the gloom ravages her arm. She’s alone when the Master Sword is the first to crumble under that pressure. She’s alone when the very ground beneath her gives in to that same pressure.

She’s alone when she falls, pain lacing through her arm and golden light enveloping her.

But Flora is not alone when she wakes.

For the purposes of this au, Flora’s time in the past is going to be very similar to canon. She still meets Rauru and Sonia. Still meets Mineru and the Sages and Ganondorf. She still trains to control her secret stone. However, Rauru fixes her arm almost as soon as she arrives in this strange world. He doesn’t give her his, not like he does for Link in TOTK, since he needs it to seal Ganondorf away. But he and Mineru work together to combine construct parts and their own light and spirit magic to make her new muscles and machinery to aid in moving her own ruined arm.

The Imprisoning War is the same.

Sonia dies. Rauru sacrifices himself. And she still has no idea how to get home. How to heal the Master Sword and destroy Ganondorf in her own time. She still speaks with Mineru… and she comes to the same conclusion that she did in canon. This time, though, she’s taking much more of a risk. She can survive the centuries as a dragon, she can heal the sword. But she can’t be sure that her Link will be there to take it and finish things. She hasn’t even seen him in years.

… she doesn’t have a choice.

From Wild’s perspective, it happened in moments. He blinked and suddenly there were islands floating in his skies. Hyrule Castle floats ominously, red plumes of gloom branching out from underneath. Massive sinkholes give way to more of the poison, seeming to drop forever. His forests are ravaged once again, the climate in corners of the continent changing drastically.

And the princess he’d been following is gone.

While trying to get a grasp of what changed so suddenly, he figures out a way up to the Sky Islands. And to his surprise, he discovers a new dragon.

Now, Wild is familiar with all of the dragons in Hyrule. Farosh, Naydra, and Dinraal are just on the threshold of Spirit and Mortal, but they definitely qualify as spiritual beings. Meaning that Wild can speak telepathically to them. Their thoughts are always muddy and jumbled up, so he never gets much out of conversing with them. But he can tell that they enjoy his presence. So he rides with them in the skies of Hyrule for hours at a time.

This new dragon is smaller than the three he knows and flies much higher. Its ears are shorter, hair golden, eyes stunning. Instead of six legs, this one only has five. A scarred stump at its front and a glowing object on- no in- its poor head. Wild makes his way over as fast as he can, desperate to learn more about the beast.

The new dragon’s thoughts are just as jumbled up as he’s used to but he’s caught off guard by how miserable it feels. No. She. How miserable she feels. Wild places a glowing hand on her snout and tries to calm her, but it’s no use. Her thoughts may be chaotic and disorganized, but he senses her distress. She wants- sword. Knight. Link Link Link. You must find me, you have to save them all!

Wild takes the Master Sword from where it was buried in the dragon’s golden mane and is nearly thrown off by her shock at the action. But when his sword is once again in his capable hands, he feels an overwhelming gratitude from the dragon. It’s gone as soon as it came, replaced again by misery. Dread. Grief.

During the events of Breath of the Wild, Wild did not fight to save Zelda. He did not fight to save Hyrule. He fought for the land. For his fellow spirits that were being destroyed by malice. For the forests that were burned down by guardians. For the water that was poisoned by monsters. He defeated Calamity Ganon for his family.

He fights Ganondorf for the same reason. Except… maybe this time, he’s extra motivated by that strange new dragon. She seemed… so sad…

THIS IS GETTING WAY TOO LONG. But suffice to say that after the events of Tears of the Kingdom, Flora does not 100% recover from being a dragon. She keeps her telepathic connection to Wild and her immortality. She keeps her horns and scales and SHE gets the Master Sword. She’s a Cryptid as well, and she’s closer to Wild than she ever was.

. . .

Uhhhhh that was super long I apologize. But rambling like this is so much easier than trying to be coherent and careful when I write. I might to it more often if you think it’s legible haha. Feel free to ask questions haha, I love any excuse to talk about my Cryptid boys and their relationships with people in their worlds.

Wild’s Origin!

#my art #fanart #the legend of zelda #chain as cryptids au #totk fanart #totk zelda #zelda tears of the kingdom #tears of the kindom spoilers #I feel so bad for her #totk??? more like I’m not okay #sapphire rambles way too long #and this is still a FRACTION of what I have written for Sky #CAC origins #half baked ideas #cryptid wild #cryptid Flora #links meet au

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