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florencemtrash · 4 days

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The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty

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

Warnings: Canon typical graphic depictions

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

You were running on coffee and willpower, and both were in short supply. You cradled what you promised would be your last cup in your hands, feeling your fried nerves inch closer to bursting into flames with every bitter sip.

Azriel had one arm looped protectively around your waist, propping you up against his side like an overworked bookend. You both sat huddled over the map you’d spent the last day and night laboring over until you could picture every stark line pressed behind shuttered eyelids like an afterimage. Until your cramped hands shook while clutching the mug like a vice.

Feyre, Rhys, Mor, Nesta, Lucien, and Cassian similarly hovered over the innocuous sheet of paper. Pale parchment glow flickering over expressions of intense thought.

You traced the outline of the lake, its form vaguely star shaped and pointing abstractly towards the north, south, east, and west.

“Here.” You tapped the northeast edge where a greyed out huddle of shapes formed the forest and a collection of scribbles marked the Death god’s home close to the waters. The lines swirled in your mind like a thousand snakes locked in battle, swallowing each other whole and getting eaten alive in an endless, vicious cycle.

Koschei’s portion of the continent lay flat and unassuming, seemingly vulnerable with the flatlands peering at his back with limitless entry points for enemies from the Continent. But the seductive ease of access through that region was a guise. Koschei was a death god, and a powerful one at that. Magic grew in and out of the soil there and what walked those woods had a strange habit of toeing the line between life and death.

The western corners swam in seas of grasslands, flat and open and unprotected save for the expanse of water a mile wide.

And the lake. The lake was the most curious thing of all. A black shape on paper, still and foreboding.

You knew from Andrian’s memories that enchanted swans flocked there — women layered with curses that kept them bound to the region in animal form — but nothing else. No creatures floundered in the salty dark. No animals came to drink from it as if they could sense the power that tainted it with decay.

“The boundaries of the Koschei’s power lie somewhere along here.” You pointed to the lazy line sketched down. “But I wouldn’t trust it. When Andrian was first sent off from the lake he crossed the plains towards one of the harbor towns on the coast and he felt that Koschei’s influence scaled with the distance away from the source of his power.”

“Any weak points? Places we could slip in unnoticed?” Feyre’s eyes scanned the page, reimagining your weak swirls of ink into something more layered. Something with more meaning that could only come about from the mind of an artist and a warrior.

You pointed to one of the star points and then to another toward the south. “Here and here. Don’t ask me how and don’t ask me why but these are the only two blind spots. Andrian used to sneak away from Koschei’s house to these two places.”

“To do what?” Cassian asked. He lumbered towards the back of the war room, easily peering over everyone’s shoulders to the flattened parchment and eyeing the wooden pieces strewn across the map, his own piece being tipped with a glistening red stone.

“To plan his escape.”

A hush fell over the room, thick and suffocating.

The boy had never succeeded.

Feyre’s lips flattened to a pale line, the air around her reverberating with heat as the temperature in the room rose — a drop of Autumn’s power magnified. She nodded to the second map, this one gathered from Azriel’s contacts on the Continent. Whereas your map had laid out Koschei’s land in detail, Azriel’s was suspiciously empty where the lake was concerned. The two fit together like puzzle pieces. “What’s the nearest harbor town?”

“Tournnes.” Azriel replied without needing to look down. You’d memorized one map, he’d memorized the other. “It’s a small fishing village located twenty-three miles to the southwest. Most of the inhabitants are men that come and go with the season and travel west from Slairn and Friesieg. It will be empty this time of year.” The fish would have gone south in search of warmer waters. Even here the Sidra had turned frigid, crusts of ice lapping up against grey sand shores.

Cassian shook his head, examining the map with a scowl. “There’s poor coverage getting from Tournnes to Koschei. And an abandoned town’s too obvious a place to hide any soldiers. It’d be better to come in from the east, through the woods.”

“Then we’d need to take the long way around Koschei’s territory.” Lucien argued back, “Our soldiers would need to trek through foreign lands for weeks and we’d lose any advantage Tarquin could give us by staying close to the coast.”

“You can’t trust those woods,” you gasped, your eyes flashing with fear that didn’t wholly belong to you.

Never enter those woods. Henna had once warned her Andrian. Never. Do you understand me?

Azriel tightened his hold on you, pressing his lips into your hair to brush against your ear. “Breathe, my love. Breathe.”

You hadn’t realized you’d stopped.

It was a heavy burden carrying the memories of others. Like a weight tied around your belly that hadn’t been properly woven into flesh. Something both part and apart from you. And you’d been feeling too many of Andrian’s memories in the past week since his death.

Silence flung itself over growing irritation and anxiety as everyone circled back to the same conclusion.

They wouldn’t be able to bring their armies abroad. And with limited numbers, brute strength would only go so far when forced to bring a fight to a foreign land against a foreign god. This would be decided by few. It would be as intimate as lovers. As ruthless as enemies.

“There’s still the other plan.” Nesta reminded them, glancing first at Feyre and you with the faintest of nods.

“I hate that plan, Nes.” Cassian gripped the back of her wing-backed chair and she reached up to take his hand in her own. She looked like a queen in her own right — harsh, pragmatic, unwavering. And he her mirror — a roguish knight, rough and wild and raw.

“I know. Unfortunately for you, it’s the best one we’ve got.”

“It’s the only one we’ve got.” Mor said with a sigh, rubbing her temples to alleviate the ache there. “We’re asking for a blood bath one way or the other.”

“Ione is still with us.” Rhys squeezed his cousin’s knee. “Without her, he can be killed.”

“But for how long, Rhys? How long until he finds someone else? Some other way?”

The question hung in the air like an ax ready to fall. An invisible clock ticking its way towards doom. Koschei had read the book’s contents. He had to know the secret to freeing himself was sheltered in Ione’s veins. So long as she was alive and breathing she was a threat as much as she was a tantalizing prize for him to tear his teeth into.

Feyre’s fingernails clicked on the glossy tabletop, eyes narrowed in on that splash of black on paper. Through the golden string tied to her lower ribs, she felt the tug of her mate’s silent agreement. Her eyes flickered upward for a brief moment, as if she could see through the layers of the House to the skies above. “For as long as we have Ione, we have the upper hand. But we can’t rely on it forever.” She looked at you, “ We go with the first plan. It will have to be enough.”

You shivered.

Four years ago, when the Day Court had first opened its borders to foreigners from other Courts, you’d encountered a male in the market. He’d been young and reckless and glamoured himself to live amongst the humans for six months. In that time, he’d learned their version of magic — the sleight of hand tricks and elaborate games of misdirection humans played on one another. Caped entertainers bedazzling crowds with obvious moves, while the real work happened just out of frame.

You thought of him now. You pictured him in the marketplace as he made a hand-painted playing card disappear from his hand into the fold of his suit jacket, only to reappear under an overturned teacup.

Yes.

It would have to be enough.

The crisp blade flashed in the dull light as you moved your feet back and forth in a practiced dance.

Left, left, right, duck, keep your wrist straight and slice up. Just like Azriel had instructed you. He stood off the narrow mat, hazel eyes tracing every slow movement of yours with a critical gaze.

“Practice makes permanence.” He’d reminded you earlier. “Get it right first, then we’ll worry about speed.”

Magic hovered over the House of Wind’s training gym, warping the air like a soap bubble as it shielded you from the frigid rain. Even so, the scent of petrichor and the cleanliness of frosted wind hung close to warn of the storm churning its way down from the north, carrying with it the promise of rainfall or the first true flakes of snow.

How poetic that winter should come with death chasing its heels while you were learning a dozen ways to kill a man.

“Here.” Azriel took your wrist in a loose grip, arching your arm and sticking the point of the knife into the training dummy’s jugular. Hay crinkled and burst out from the burlap covering instead of blood and you stepped away, locating the points in the liver, the lungs, the heart, the throat, under the arms, and more. Gruesome things made digestible by the motionless, fake body propped up on wooden poles.

You didn’t need to imagine what it would feel like for your blade to meet flesh.

Your arms ached. Hot, unfamiliar stretches of muscle trembling while slick with sweat. You could taste salt on your tongue as Azriel repeated himself.

“Be precise. Be quick if you can. Then run like hell.”

Incapacitation and speed. Those were the only two things you could rely on if things went south on the Continent.

Precise. Quick. Run.

“Emphasis on run,” You muttered beneath your breath. You adjusted your feet to match Azriel’s stance, feeling the strength of his muscles close to your body and imagining some of that power seeping into the ground for you to drink up.

The corner of his mouth twitched, then rose in a smile. “Exactly.” He stepped in, hands twisting your hips to be straight and then drifting up to your wrist. “Too much.” He corrected your bones with a feather-light touch. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

It should have been romantic. Him touching you like this with his front pressed against your back and his breath sliding over your skin as he taught you to wield a knife. Instead his insides churned relentlessly. Visions of you, blood-splattered and motionless on the ground, flashed through his mind. He’d be damned if he let that happen again.

You practiced on him next. Blunt, stone knife gripped in your hands as he moved in slow-motion. Azriel must have had everything custom made for you. The balance felt right in your hands, the movement as fluid as your awkward limbs could manage.

You clasped a hand around the back of his neck, dragging him forward as you swung up.

Where the head goes, the body will follow.

He didn’t so much as grunt as the stone wedged itself into his ribs.

You locked eyes with him and saw his pupils blown wide as a doe’s. “Good.” He murmured. “Again.”

On and on you went for hours, Azriel’s panic fueling the training he put you through, as if he could fit a hundred years of combat into a handful of hours.

You grunted when Azriel easily flipped you over onto your back, a scarred hand catching the nape of your neck so your head wouldn’t slam into the floor. The knife slipped out from your sweaty fingers, skittering away and disappearing beneath one of the weapons racks along the wall. You breathed heavily beneath him, feeling the grit of the ground and the sweat sliding into your hair and the leather brushing your chest with every breath he took.

In a real fight, Azriel would have killed you a thousand times over and he knew it. There was not a single moment where you could have saved yourself.

You saw the tell tale flicker in his eyes, the tensing of his jaw before he gritted his teeth and swore beneath his breath.

You felt shame seep into your stomach again. “Az—”

“I want you to take my memories,” he said. “Everything I’ve learned over 500 years.”

Metal whispered against leather as a tendril of shadow retrieved the knife and slid it into the thigh sheath Azriel had tied around your legs only hours ago. It felt strange to have such an unfamiliar weight against your thighs. To know that only leather kept the wicked blade from slicing you to the bone.

“We’ve been over this before, Azriel. I can take however many memories I want from you until I can picture every way to take down an enemy in my mind’s eye. But that doesn’t mean my body will obey or follow through correctly. Knowing things mentally isn’t the same thing as knowing things physically.”

Azriel huffed in frustration, dropping one hand to your waist like he often did and gripping the flesh there to ground him.

“If we had more time—”

“When this is over we’ll have more time.”

If I make it.

Because if there was anyone who would survive what was to come. It was Azriel. And you could find a great deal of comfort in that.

Azriel must have read your doubt because his eyes hardened and his hands came up to cup your jaw. “We will have more time. We’ll have time for everything, do you understand me?”

“Like what?”

“Whatever you want. We’ll travel the Courts. I’ll take you dancing and—”

“You’ll teach me a dozen new ways to kill someone?”

“Exactly.”

“Should I start keeping a tally?”

“If that would help, then yes.” He dipped his head down, kissing you firmly on the lips, the taste salty and warm to the touch. Kissing you came easy now. Touches were a comforting drug he craved daily.

“If things go wrong—” He whispered, flicking a strand of hair out of your eyes. “Promise me you’ll find me.”

You blinked up at him, tracing fragments of gold in his eyes.

“Find you,” you echoed, your voice tinged with sadness. “You’re not going to convince me to run?”

He laughed bitterly. “I know you too well, my love. You wouldn’t listen even if I did. If anything, it would make you want to stay and fight even more, just to prove me wrong.“ “Then is this some reverse psychology? You tell me the opposite of what you want, so I end up doing what you intended all along?”

“You’re thinking too deeply about this.” He slid his arms around the small of your back, dropping his weight until you were flush against him. Until you could feel his heart beating beneath his skin in time to yours. “Find me, so I can protect you. And so if anything happens, we won’t be alone. I want you to promise me.”

You caressed his cheek, the coarse bandages he’d wound around your wrists and knuckles scratching the skin of his jaw and the faint stubble that had grown there over sleepless nights. “I promise I’ll find you, Azriel. We’re better together anyways.”

He could never disagree with you. He lifted you back onto your feet, kissing your forehead. “Three more drills, then we’ll be done for the day.”

He made you run five. The bastard.

You’d dreamed of what might come. Nightmares filled with glassy-eyed children and skeletal forests where the dead roamed free. A black lake with stones of bleached bone to fill your lungs and choke the life out of you.

You wanted to make Azriel proud. You wanted to be the kind of warrior who could match him physically, not just mentally. The kind of female he’d never have to worry about protecting in that way. But violence had never been beaten into your bones and you could only hope that the skills you did possess would see you through to the end.

You and Azriel would make it. You’d all make it.

Some way.

Somehow.

Then there would be time for everything you had ever wanted and everything you’d never had the courage to ask for.

You woke up to a world shivering beneath a dusting of snow. Frost creeped up the windowsill, trying to slither inside before the House’s magic burned it away. A grey, ashen sky hung low over the mountains, mist blowing over and gathering in valleys until they were transformed into pools of smoke.

So this is it. You thought wearily, tasting the change in the air. Winter’s finally here to choke the world into submission.

You burrowed further under Azriel’s wings, chasing the heat that rolled off his skin. When you looked up at his eyes they were already trained on the weather, some similar tangle of thoughts running through his mind that had his grip around your waist tightening.

“The other death gods. Have you met any of them, Az?” You whispered your question into the hollow of his neck, feeling the blood rushing beneath your lips until he answered.

“I’ve met a fair few. The Bone Carver, Stryga, and Bryaxis joined our side in the final battle against Hybern and Nesta was equivalent in power when she first emerged from the Cauldron.”

“Nesta?” You asked questionably.

She was a collection of sharp edges wrapped in silk and cunning, but a death god?

Azriel smiled ever so slightly. “You didn’t know her then, but she was a terror to behold. You could feel her presence in a room like a knife in your back or a flame licking at your heels so hold it starts to freeze. Only Cassian was foolish and lovestruck enough to approach her at the time.”

You tried to imagine it — Cassian’s wild, borderline arrogant mannerisms going toe-to-toe against Nesta’s magnified sharp grace. “That sounds about right.”

“Feyre knows the most about the death gods. Has come face to face with the most. Rhys sent her into the Weaver’s cabin to retrieve her engagement ring — don’t give me that look, my love, I don’t understand it either — and she’s the one who convinced The Bone Carver and Bryaxis to fight for us.”

“Feyre has a penchant for endearing herself to monsters.”

Azriel smirked, pearly teeth flashing. “You have no idea.” Then he said something that stuck with you. “The Bone Carver was especially close to her.”

Anytime the Bone Carver — Thanatos — was mentioned, you could only think of Bethsevah. The one person who had ever looked upon his true face and never flinched.

“How so?”

Shadows swarmed around his ears, as much a sign of his thinking as it was a sign that whispers beyond your own understanding were reaching him.

“When Feyre met with the Bone Carver, he made a bargain that he’d only fight for her if she could descend into the Court of Nightmares and bring back an enchanted mirror without going mad. Feyre said she saw her true form when she looked into her reflection, and that it was only by accepting this form that she was able to keep the madness at bay. The Bone Carver was impressed with her and pledged his loyalty to her from then on.” Azriel shook his head, wings flaring out in another sign of his thinking. “It never made sense to me why a being like him would even make that bargain to begin with.”

“Even death gods can be surprised. We should consider ourselves lucky.”

“It wasn’t just that though. I was watching when he died. He… he turned his face up to the field at Feyre and he smiled at her. It felt like a bittersweet ending to a story I didn’t know. Like he was saying goodbye to more than just this world.”

You draped your arm over his chest, tracing the black ink swirling across his chest and over his shoulders like ocean waves. The Bone Carver was more myth than legend to the few fae that had known of his existence and you knew with each passing century his story would be steadily wiped from the earth like wind shaving down stone. His name would become a whisper. His story, and Beth’s, a tragedy for no one but the stars to weep to.

But you were still here, and your time with Bethsevah’s book had left you with no small amount of fondness for him. For now you would still be able to whisper his true name.

“Thanatos.” You said. “He loved this world and the people in it. He sacrificed his life for it. I think he had many things he wanted to say goodbye to.”

“To Thanatos then.” Azriel raised an invisible cup towards the ceiling of his bedroom, silk sheets sliding down his arms.

“To Thanatos,” you echoed.

You eventually went through the morning motions together —Azriel helped lace up the back of your dress, and you buttoned up his shirts, careful to avoid the fragile membrane of his wings as you stood at his back.

He tugged you away from the bedroom door at the last moment, your questioning eyes softening when he cradled your face in his hands and stole one last kiss in the privacy of your room, murmuring "Beautiful," against the crown of your freshly brushed hair.

"Do the others know you're such a hopeless romantic?" You asked, finally opening the door and breaking the spell of privacy.

Before Azriel could answer, Cassian blew past the room, shockingly quiet for his mountainous size. "Yes, we all know," he shouted before disappearing down the hall.

Ione stood proud and tall in front of the windows, grey eyes narrowed at the Sidra as it wound through the valley like a snake. Cassian slid into the space beside her and handed her her cane. She knew instinctively where the warrior stood and where his hand reached out towards her. She took the cane without the second glance. A golden lion’s head roared from atop its wooden post, Ione’s fingers resting squarely between its glistening teeth as she leaned experimentally on the new device. Cassian had ordered it custom for her and she knew that hidden within the sleeve of glistening redwood was an iron rod forged in enchanted flames that rendered it near unbreakable.

“Careful.” She reminded Cassian when she caught him staring for too long. “This body may be different, but I can still bring you to your knees.”

Cassian chuckled, “I don’t doubt that.”

She slammed the cane against the ground once. Twice. Testing its strength and finding it worthy. “Do you think it will happen soon?”

This waiting — it was beginning to grate on her nerves. This foreboding calm that threatened to fall away into chaos and bloodshed. She almost wished she were living three years into the future, when she was finally done healing from her wounds and the future had faded into the background of her life once more.

“If I could see into the future, I would not be here right now waiting.”

“And yet here we are.” Ione sighed, shoulders rising and falling elegantly beneath a wrinkled but slender neck.

Cassian would have said more had Feyre and Rhys not entered the room together, bruises layered beneath their eyes as they plastered on bright smiles for their family, tension visible through the cracks in their porcelain teeth.

The Inner Circle had assembled in their entirety at the request of their High Lord and High Lady. There was no holiday to be celebrated. No birthdays or anniversaries or special occasions. The fare that had been laid out on the table was simple and everyone filled their plates before spilling out across the sofas and the armchairs or carving out a space on one of Rhysand’s expensive hand-woven rugs. There would be no special meal around the new table devoid of scratches and watermarks and the passage of time and love. This was their family, and for their family it was the company that put finery to shame.

Elain was a flutter of movement in and out of the kitchen, shepherding pots of tea and fruit tarts before Lucien finally caught her around the waist and made her rest. The House was equally restless. The lights strung above the fireplace mantle flickered like lantern flies.

Mor sat with Emerie’s wings draped around her shoulders like a cape and Gwyn sat on the floor, hugging her knees close to her chest as she rested her head against the Illyrian female’s knee. To no one’s surprise, you and Azriel clung to the corner of the room, content to watch everyone’s laughter with your arm subtly looped around his.

He still hasn’t told her, I see. Emerie noted, watching your smile stretch into place when Azriel leaned close to whisper in your ear.

Does it matter? Mor teased, kissing Emerie’s nose reverently. The Illyrian’s cheeks turned warm. Emerie had not been granted the freedom to explore romance to the same degree as Mor, something she’d worried about when they first started their courtship. But if anyone asked the blonde, she’d tell them it drove her wild to see how such simple gestures could reduce the fearsome warrior to a puddle, even now. Mor tucked herself into Emerie’s side, throwing her long legs over the armrest. It’s probably a good thing. If they could speak to each other like this, we’d never hear from them again.

Emerie laughed into Mor’s golden hair.

Conversations rose and fell. Plates emptied and clicked as they were laid out on the coffee table.

It was a simple peace they welcomed with open arms.

They didn’t hear the faintest thud coming from above their heads.

You smiled when one of Azriel’s shadows wove themselves into your hair, tickling the sensitive skin behind your ear and along your neck.

“Sorry,” Azriel whispered, trying and failing to draw them back to him for the nth time that day. “I don’t know what’s gotten into them.” They’d been especially touchy as of late, nipping at your heels like a litter of puppies vying for attention or hiding in your pockets. It was a mixture of Azriel’s own feelings that spurred them on and their own desire to protect what they’d claimed as theirs.

“It’s alright, Azriel. I like having them around.”

They hummed amongst themselves, happy to see you so pleased. Sometimes, Azriel wondered if you’d be able to learn to listen to them as well. To tease apart that secret language he couldn’t begin to describe.

Maybe you were listening to them now without even realizing it.

Maybe that’s why you and Azriel were the only ones whose eyes snapped towards the hallway before the first creak of wood sounded throughout the House.

The shuffling of a new, unfamiliar set of feet down the stairs had the hair on the back of your neck rising and crackling with energy.

It wasn’t Jurian. It wasn’t loud enough to be Jurian. He so rarely descended from the attic that he made a habit of making his presence known, tired feet shuffling along the rugged staircase with measured drags.

You walked over to your brother and tugged on the back of his shirt. “Jurian—”

“That’s not Jurian.” Lucien said with bated breath. He was the third person in the room to hear the sound.

He’d checked on his friends less than a handful of hours ago. Jurian had been as he always was — weary but hopeful as one hand had clenched the bundle of morphine and the other had leaned against the food cart Lucien had carried up to the top floor.

And Vassa… Vassa had been uncharacteristically quiet, slouching against the wall of her gilded cage, raw skin and thin feathers trembling with her haggard breath as she slept.

“You should come down.” Lucien had said. “You deserve a break.”

But Jurian had only shook his head and flashed a tight smile. “As much as I would love to bless you with my presence, I won’t leave her like this. But one day, my friend, we’ll both walk down those steps together and have a proper celebration. I promise you.”

Vassa came down the steps.

Alone.

Naked.

Shivering.

You eyed the window where the mid-afternoon sun beat down on a frosted city.

It was the middle of the day… and Vassa was human.

You clutched Lucien’s arm, fingernails digging through his cotton shirt before he could take another step forward. Silence suffocated the room. There was something deeply wrong with the cursed queen. She trembled like a newborn fawn unceremoniously dumped into the world, her skin puckered and pock-marked from where she’d picked at old scabs and opened new wounds. The whole array hung from bones so thin they may as well have belonged to a bird.

“Vassa…” Lucien’s voice broke on her name.

A path of bloody feathers trailed behind her.

She grasped at strands of her fiery red hair and tugged. Hard. You focused all your energy on keeping the food in your stomach when strands fell through her bloody fingers and saliva rose in your mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Lucien. I can’t… It won’t stop.” Her voice, which had once been beautiful, grated your ears. “My skin. It feels like I’m crawling out of it.”

“Vassa.” Lucien held out his hands, showing her they were empty. “Where’s Jurian?” He would come down. He would help her in ways only he was capable of.

“I don’t… I don’t know…”

“Where’s Jurian?”

At the second mention of her lover’s name, Vassa broke down crying. Fat, ugly tears streaking down tan cheeks that had turned sallow and grey. She wiped them away, fingers dripping. There was a deep, unyielding hunger evident in every stutter of her body as her eyes raked across the room. You flinched when those milky, teal eyes passed over you… and landed on Ione.

Elderly, painfully human, Ione.

Vassa’s left eye twitched and Azriel had only enough time to tackle you to the ground and cover your body with his own before the mortal queen burst into flames.

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Author's Note:

^^ Visual depiction of how I've felt the last week like what in the world? I'm getting enough sleep I swear but every morning I feel like I'm dragging a two ton boulder behind me until I get a sip of that bitter goodness. Ugh. Hope y'all are resting better than I am.

Anyways, I know it's been a while since I posted, but the chapter is here! Whoop! And I hope you enjoyed :) As always, feedback is appreciated and welcome if you have burning things you need to get off your chest (doesn't even have to be SSIB-related honestly my inbox is there).

#the shadowsinger and the inkbird #azriel x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader slowburn #azriel x reader angst

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bucky-barnes-diaries · 1 year

Note

would you ever write something filthy for winter soldier? no pressure btw!

Experiments

Pairing || Winter Soldier x Female!Reader

Summary || HYDRA conducts sexual experiments on specimen The Winter Soldier.

Word Count || 2901

Contents & Warnings || Smut, Angst, Dark Themes — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, non-con, explicit content/language, sub!soldat, implied torture/murder/blood, restraints, unprotected vaginal sex, size kink, oral (male receiving), handjob, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation, exhibition, creampie, bodily fluids.

Authors Note || The answer is yes sweet nonnie :D And I really love how this turned out. This is my first time writing for WS so please be kind :) Remember, read the warnings! I’m not responsible for your content consumption. Don’t like it, don’t read. And definitely don’t slap a label on just to be petty. There are no [ ] in the text below btw. Also apologies for no readmore cut. It’s currently bugged out and fucks up the text below.

Disclaimer || English is not my first language so I apologise for any mistakes or misunderstandings!

Masterlist

You had no idea how long you had been in this stuffy and dim-lit room. Minutes? Hours? Days? It felt like an eternity but also like no time had passed at all. It was easy to lose track of it when you had no inclination whether it was day or night out. The room and its surroundings were bleak and dull, giving nothing away about your location.

How did you end up in this situation? Naked with strangers watching—discussing, researching, contemplating. And with a stranger's cock in your grasp? Making him come again, again, and again—an endless cycle of climax.

It all seemed like a blur now. A past from another time. A dream? A nightmare?

They promised good pay. Money that was beyond imaginable, but you had to take this with you to the grave. This experiment that you yourself had signed up for could never reach the light of day.

Tell anyone, and they will torture and mutilate you beyond recognition. Killing and dumping your body in a ditch.

Although the men were vicious beyond anything, they told you countless times that under any circumstances, you could leave. You were not here out of force. They would keep you safe. You had signed up for this, and whenever you wanted to terminate the deal you had sealed, you were allowed. But you could never, ever tell another living soul about what you had seen or experienced.

It felt like a week, but in reality, it had only been a day or so since these men had come and picked you up from your home—blindfolding and plugging your ears. Due to their safety and yours, you could not know where you were being taken.

After hours of traveling by car, train, and plane—taking all transportation possible—you had arrived. To where you did not know. A military bunker of some sort, possibly. Somewhere cold and emotionless. An unknown country.

Your blindfold and plugs were removed, and you sat in a dark room. A hanging bulb from the ceiling cascaded a weak source of light throughout the space. The chair and table were metal and cold.

Opposite you sat a man dressed in uniform. Narrowing your eyes and inspecting him further, you saw it was the same man you had come in contact with when you had signed up for this mysterious experiment.

“Papers for you to sign,” he uttered in a thick Russian accent. His face and tone were stoic.

He explained the contract in detail. And there was a particular phrase that stood out to you. That made no sense. The Asset. It was mentioned numerous times.

You knew what you had come here for. A sexual experiment of some sort. But nowhere in the contract did it say who you were conducting it with. There was no name. No details about any appearance or anything. Only that you would perform with someone or something named The Asset.

“He has no name.” The man spoke. “He is not a person. Do not try to humanize him. He is a tool. A weapon. Nothing more. But if you have to call him something, you may refer to him as Soldat. And do not worry. He cannot hurt you.”

“Why am I doing this? W-what’s the purpose?” You muttered while avoiding his emotionless gaze.

“We have to experiment and see if he is breakable. If someone can ever bend his will and programming with sexual torture.”

Your train of thoughts and flashbacks were cut short by the sound of fingers tapping on glass behind you and the roar of metal chains rattling in front of you.

“Please continue, miss,” the same thick Russian accent bellowed from behind.

“O-oh,” you exhaled as you came back to your senses. The coldness of the small room pierced your naked skin. The sounds of inaudible chatter in a foreign language and beeping of instruments flowed through your ears. And your eyes adjusted to what was in front of you.

Soldat.

He held all your attention now as you peered at him through your thick lashes. The surroundings were not relevant anymore. The people watching and observing were not relevant anymore—only him.

The beefy and nude man was held in chains. His arms restrained so that he couldn’t touch you. Couldn’t hurt you, for that matter.

His head hung low, peering down at you. His long hair cascaded down his face and stuck to his sweaty forehead, but you could still see some of his features. He held an intense expression. It was hard to decipher. His jaw clenched tightly, and his dark eyes were wild. Pain? Pleasure? Did he actually enjoy the sexual torture? It was hard to tell. He never spoke. Deep groans and grunts that rumbled in his throat were the only sounds to ever come out of him. The sounds gave you an impression that he may actually enjoy this vicious ordeal.

Although powerless, he looked powerful and rough from where you were positioned on your knees. Fuck, he was huge. All of him. God, he was hot. The sight in front of you was like a lewd porno.

You and he were covered in cum, sweat, and spit—a concoction of erotic slickness. Hot and disgusting at the same time. It made the acts you performed on him that much effortless.

You felt the heaviness of his cock in your grasp again as you returned to yourself. And once you tugged on it tighter, he roared loudly and clenched his body tight and hard. The muscles underneath his skin became deliciously defined. And the plates on his bionic arm whirled every time he flexed.

His red and angry cock twitched in pain and pleasure. Raw due to your repeated acts on him—handjob, blowjob, and having him nestled deep inside your pussy. Making him come again and again.

The thick and protruding veins along his shaft pulsed underneath your palms as you jerked him faster. Tighter. Sloppier.

“Fuck,” you mumbled as you took in the sight of his impressive cock, making your mouth water at the anticipation of having him on your tongue again.

With a needy moan, you took him in your mouth. Suckling his head as both your hands sloppily worked the rest of him. Swirling your tongue on his sensitive tip as your lips wrapped beautifully around him.

Soldat groaned as you sucked him to perfection—cum and spit dribbling out of your mouth and making a beautiful mess all over yourself and him.

His hands may be bound, but the rest of his body was boundless, and he bucked his hips into your mouth. The tip of his cock tickled the back of your throat. You coughed and struggled, and he rumbled deeply in response. Seeming satisfied with you choking.

When you couldn’t handle the abuse to your throat anymore, you release his cock with a pop. You spat the excess saliva onto his length and let the slickness coat the entirety of him.

As both your hands worked his entire cock again—base to tip, you took his heavy sack into your mouth—licking and sucking. Enjoying the weight of his balls on your tongue—moaning against him.

You peered up at him again with hooded eyes. He seemed to enjoy the dirty sight—your mouth and hands full of his cock and balls. A messy perfection kneeling before him.

A smirk tugged on his lips before he hissed sharply through his teeth as you pulled his sack harshly and then let it drop from your mouth.

He was close again. Nearing his fifth? Or was it maybe the sixth orgasm since you started? You had lost count.

The Russian officer was right. Soldat was no ordinary man. No one would have been able to withstand so many orgasms in such a short time. It was extraordinary to witness. Could he really keep climaxing till the end of times?

Soldat’s chest heaved as the torturous pleasure built. His thick thighs trembled, and his cock twitched, anticipating another earth-shattering and messy release.

He bellowed a cry through his gritted teeth as he came hard once again. The chains rattled as he tugged on them. He bucked his stuttering hips into your grasp as he spurted ropes and ropes of thick white cum from his red tip and made a mess all over himself and you. The sounds of pleasure and torture—grunts, groans, roars, and subtle whines, surfaced despite his clenched jaw.

You never stopped stroking him. Never stopped milking his poor and sensitive cock for all its seed. God, there was so much. You were in awe of him—eyes wide and mouth ajar. It was like a drug to you. Seeing the man above you come so intensely undone.

In the beginning, you had felt bad due to how wrong the situation actually was. But the more he came, the more you craved it. You needed it just as much as breathing.

“Good boy,” you mumbled as you gave a final tight tug on his cock. He hissed at the sensitivity and then exhaled as you released his twitching and aching cock from your hold.

For the first time, he looked finished. Exhausted as he dropped his head backward. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly and tried to catch his breath. Had he reached his breaking point?

You gave him a break. He deserved that much by enduring this pleasurable torture. But the men in charge were impatient.

“Please don’t stop, miss. He is not allowed to rest.” The same accent uttered behind the glass.

Soldat’s eyes were on you now. Watching intensely as you got to your feet. You hissed as you stood upright. The uncomfortable and solid concrete floor bruised your knees and made your thighs stiff.

His abused cock twitched once you stood before him in all your nude form. His chains rattled again as he tried to reach forward to touch you. The plates on his bionic arm whirled. Did he want to hurt you? Punish you for torturing him? Or was there something else he wanted?

He stared intensely at you with his jaw clenched and eyes wild like an animal—examining your body like a predator would a prey. He groaned and licked his lips, hungry for more of what you had to offer. How much till he could bear no more?

When he saw you become nervous under his gaze, he bit his tongue and relaxed back into his seat.

“Please continue, miss,” the Russian man pressed you on. Becoming impatient with the waiting.

You trembled as you sat on top of Soldat—sore yourself from all the previous activities you had performed on him—hours of torturous pleasure. He let out a satisfied groan as you found your place on his lap.

You were so unbelievably close now. Your sweaty bodies pressed together, front to front. It was so hot, so erotic feeling his warm skin against yours. Feeling his delicious and defined muscles underneath your palms as you ran them down his broad torso.

His cock nestled against your dripping pussy. Yours and his juices mixed as you grinded on him, making him rock hard again.

With a breathless moan, you took his cock in your grasp again, loving the feel of him in your hand. Soldat sucked in a breath through his teeth as you pumped his bruised and slick length before you lined up his bulbous head with your entrance.

For the first time since you sat on him, you found his dark gaze as you lowered yourself onto his thick girth, thighs trembling. You winched at the pleasurable sting as he stretched out your velvet walls, inch by inch. It was so much to take in.

A deep groan sounded from his throat at the friction on his sensitive cock. His head fell back, eyes closed, and his teeth drew blood as he bit his bottom lip. His body clenched again at the sensual torture.

“Fuck, you’re huge,” you whined as his cock nestled balls deep inside your pussy.

His dark eyes found yours again. And although they were scary and wild, you couldn’t break from his intense stare. An animalistic groan rumbled in his chest, and his hands clenched in tight fists. His menacing aura compelled you to start riding him.

With your hands clasped at the back of his neck, steadying yourself, you started bouncing on his thick length. Slow, to begin with. Letting the ridges and veins of his cock caress delicately against your walls. Your jaw slacked as you enjoyed the teasing penetration.

But Soldat was impatient. He tried to push his body further into yours despite the constriction of his chains as he bellowed a deep roar. His hips bucked upwards brutally, forcing the entirety of him in you. You cried as his swollen head hit deep inside.

As he continued to snap his hips up into your aching pussy in quick motions, you met his movements with your own forceful ones. The sound of wet skin clapping, deep moans, groans, and soft whimpers drowned out the chatter and beeping of instruments behind.

Your sweaty bodies moved and danced effortlessly together—a seductive second act to the lewd porno.

Without thinking, you pressed your lips to his hard. Soldat took advantage of having his touch on you for the first time. He groaned as he moved his lips hurriedly against yours. Parting them to explore your mouth further.

The kiss was messy and needy—tongue and spit mixed together. Breathless moans and whimpers shared between you as your lips moved passionately—savouring the intoxicating taste.

As you pulled away, desperately needing a breath due to the exertion of your movements, he captured your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging on it as you pulled apart. He managed to nip your lip at the last second, puncturing through the skin and creating a little bleeding cut. He groaned while you moaned at the violent action. His animalistic and cruel nature was beyond hot.

It was hard to tell how long you had been fucking for—riding his cock brutally. It was all so intoxicating—the sounds, the touches, the tastes, the delicious penetration. It clouded all your senses. It made you aware of nothing but him—his massive body and cock.

You were approaching your first orgasm since you started this erotic experiment with The Asset. And with the way your body trembled and the firm tightness in your stomach begged to snap, you knew your release would wreck you—dissolving you into a messy state of whimpers and possibly a blackout.

You braced yourself by wrapping your arms around his neck—clinging desperately to him. Puncturing your nails into the skin of his back—leaving marks.

Soldat’s body tensed, anticipating another rocking release as he ground his teeth and roared like a caged animal. The chains rattled as he pulled on his restraints. His huge arms flexed, and his delicious muscles contorted beautifully, making him look even bigger.

You could see a hint of pain and discomfort in his features at having his cock tormented and overstimulated to the extreme. But another part of him, the darkest flicker in his eyes, couldn’t get enough of the torturous pleasure.

You leaned your forehead against his, which had his tenseness ease up to a degree. Yours and his parted lips brushed as you became so engrossed with the anticipation of your shared release.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as you grounded yourself deeper onto his pulsing cock that was nearing its release. And with a last few sharp thrusts of his hips into your quivering pussy, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, you and he came hard—an explosion of noises and numbing pleasure rocked your bodies.

His cock twitched violently as he spurted his thick and warm cum into your awaiting womb, covering your fluttering walls with his seed. Making you feel full and satisfied. Yours and his hips stuttered and lost their rhythm as you tried to move against each other despite the soul-crushing and body-crippling sensation.

Your sounds of passion were muffled against his sweaty skin as you nuzzled your face into the crock of his neck. His ones roared so loudly in your ear—moans, groans, growls, making your whole body vibrate and convulse.

The pleasure seemed to last for an eternity as you savoured each erotic and sensual sensation with Soldat.

A wave of darkness shadowed over you as it became too much after a while. The pleasure too intense for your weak body to handle. Your movements started easing into a delicate dance as you used the last bit of strength to cling onto Soldat’s colossal frame.

Yours and his chest heaved in perfect rhythm as you stilled completely on him. His cock buried deep inside you still.

His warm body against yours was a comfort from the raging ache your own pulsed. His hot breath brushing your skin a soothing sensation.

How could a man that was claimed to be inhuman, dangerous, a weapon, feel so comfortable? Feel so right?

You hummed softly as you nuzzled further into him. Tired and drained from the hours of exertion that accumulated into a fiery ending.

The demands of the men in charge for you to continue were nothing but a muffled sound.

You felt yourself slip. Slip into darkness, tired and satiated, as the last thing your consciousness remembered was the soft lulling of the menacing man you were clinging onto.

Thank you for reading 🖤 Feedback through a comment is highly appreciated! Or let me know through an anonymous ask if that feels more comfortable. As well as a reblog to share my work with other people!

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httpswritings · 3 months

Text

endless cycle — Alexia Putellas x Reader

Warnings: smut, toxic non-relationship

Word count: 886

Summary: Facing reality after giving pleasure to Alexia.

A/N: Second part of vicious cycle.

You were right. That same night, Alexia ended up in your bed. You didn't have any training sessions tomorrow, so you knew it was going to be a very long night.

Her lips devoured every centimeter of your body as you grabbed her blonde hair with your hand.

“You love it when I grab your hair like this, don't you?” With a few bites on your collarbone, she said, “You already know the answer.”

Feeling the warmth her body exuded was something else.

Alexia had a thing for kissing you on the tip of your nose and on both of your cheeks. You usually wondered if she had been like this with her previous partners. If this was part of the way she made love or if you were lucky enough to be the first one to experience that, “I love your kisses, Ale.” You noticed her smile growing wider as she was focused on giving you a few pecks on your left cheek. “You're so adorable, amor. Just how I like it.” You wish she would've told you how much she loved you. You've never heard Alexia say those words, not even to her closest teammates.

“You know what I need, right, mi chica?” You did, so you proceeded to stabilize yourself on the bed with your back on the mattress. “Can I ask you why you like riding my face so much?”

Alexia blushed. Wait? Alexia blushed? “I don't know. You know how to make me enjoy being on top of your face.” You felt satisfied with her answer but still decided to push her a little more over the edge. “So it has to do with me and not because you enjoy the posture itself? Have you ever done it with other women?” Alexia sat down on the lower part of your stomach as she caressed that part of your body. She was fully naked on top of you, with her messy blonde hair falling over her breasts. “I have done it before, but you're the first one who has made me enjoy it to the fullest. I used to think that it was a posture that required a lot of effort, but with you, it's different. You know how to touch a woman overall.”

You tapped your lips with your left hand as a sign for her to sit down on them. Alexia placed both of her thighs on both sides of your head. You gave her thighs a few quick kisses, winning some giggles from Alexia. Every time she laughed during sex, it was more difficult to not tell her how much you loved her and how beautiful she looked. That intimacy you had been building over the months.

She pressed her body down on your lips as you began to move them across her folds. “See, this is what I'm talking about. You know exactly how to make me feel so good,” she said as she moved her hips slowly, grinding on your tongue.

After a while, she warned you, “Shit, I'm coming already, mi amor. Don't stop!” Alexia came right after, feeling her body tremble. She got off you and started kissing your neck, but you made her stop. “I don't feel like it, Ale. Maybe another day.” Alexia got worried, as it wasn't the first time that you had some trouble carrying on, especially after you had given her an orgasm. “Mi amor, is there something wrong? We aren't going to do anything if you don't want to, and you don't have to justify yourself. I just want to know what's happening and if you need something from me.”

You needed her. You had her sexually. She was everything you ever wanted sexually: caring, communicative, easy-going, etc. But you craved having her at home as you woke up. Looking at her after getting out of the shower. Making breakfast for her. Getting home and seeing her already there. You craved her as a girlfriend, not just as a sexual partner and as a teammate. “No, it's fine, Ale. You can leave now if you want to.” Alexia felt a little bit pushed back by your tone. She gave herself two seconds to breathe before she snapped. “No. I'm not leaving. Not until you tell me what's going on with you. It's not the first time this has happened, and I want you to enjoy it as much as I do. If you don't enjoy it anymore, please keep in mind that we can stop doing it.”

That last sentence made you close your eyes as if a knife had been stabbed in your stomach. You realized she could stop whatever this was whenever she wanted; you couldn't. You felt so captivated by Alexia; you'd made love to her every night, even if that implied losing her in the morning. Making love to her was the purest act of love you felt you could do for her. “Alexia, leave. I'm not really in the mood. That's it.” She knew you were lying, but she didn't want to force you with her presence. “Okay, I'll leave, but please know that I'll be there whenever you need me.”

You were head-over-heels for her. That comment made you soften a little bit, and you rushed to kiss her temple. “I know, silly.”

#alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #woso #woso imagine #woso x reader

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

Text

Babygirl

PAIRING | Chris Evans x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 1.8K

SUMMARY | Chris threw a party, but you do not remember anything when you woke up the following day. Not only are you not in the guest bed you were supposed to occupy, but you wake up in Chris' arms after a steamy night. He helps you piece everything together, and your dynamic shifts in a way you're delighted with.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. RPF, friends to FWB, use of pet name (Babygirl), swearing, brief mentions of vomit, slight dub-con/non-con if you squint, smut (handjob, fingering, unprotected sex - wrap it before you tap it!).

A/N | This is requested by the amazing @cevansbaby-dove, for which I can not thank you enough! This man is absolutely amazing, and I can never get enough of your sweet requests for him 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly

Main Masterlist | Chris Evans Masterlist

You wake up in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in a pair of strong arms, your head lying on a warm, firm chest with a smell that is very familiar to you. When you slowly open your eyes and lift your head, you look at Chris' face.

''How the fuck did I end up here?!'' you whisper to yourself as you try and scramble out of his grip, but he only seems to hold on tighter as he sighs softly.

You close your eyes again as you try to piece together what happened last night, but somewhere after your 5th or 6th drink, you're not sure, and your memory is very fragmented.

All you know is that you got way too drunk and somehow ended up in bed with him, and you secretly hoped nothing had gone down between the two of you, but one lift of the comforter showed you all you needed to know.

You're both very naked; he is also very hard right now.

''Hmm, you like what you see, Babygirl?'' Chris says with a deep voice, and a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as you look up at him with a worried look.

''Did I-, I mean we- us- Did we...?'' you stumble as you sit upright, clinging to the comforter to your chest as you try to piece everything together, which isn't easy with the raging hangover you're currently faced with.

Your head feels like it's throbbing uncontrollably, and you squeeze your eyes shut as a wave of nausea washes over you, trying your hardest not to throw up all over his bed.

''Oookay, Babygirl, let's get you into the shower and some aspirin in you,'' Chris says as the wave of nausea dies down, and when you open your eyes, the world is spinning, and your head throbbing worsens.

In a reflex, he grabs a trash can on the side of his bed, and you clutch it tightly as it feels like your inside is coming out through your mouth, vomiting out what seems like an endless stream of everything you had to eat and drink last night.

Chris rubs his hand softly up and down your back, soothing you through your emotions, and the tears fall down your cheeks as you let out an undeniable sob as a sharp pain shoots through your head.

''C'mere,'' he says as he slowly pulls you into his arms, not to disturb you any further now that you feel like this.

You keep sobbing, and it worsens the pain, which only pushes you to keep crying more, and you end up in a vicious cycle of pain and tears.

''Shh, calm down, Babygirl, you're okay. You're doing well for me,'' he whispers into your hair between soft kisses, and eventually, your sobs die down to quiet sniffles, all while Chris still holds you close.

''Shall we take a shower?'' he asks, and you look at him with wide eyes, unsure if you should do it. It's not that you don't want to do it, but wouldn't it change everything between you two? But then again, last night already changed everything in your dynamic.

''A-are you sure...? I mean-''

''I'm sure, Babygirl. But only if you want it, too. I can't get enough of you now that I've had a taste,'' he purrs into your ear, and your stomach feels leaping.

He slowly lays you down to prepare the shower and returns with some aspirin and a water bottle, urging you to drink something to get you hydrated.

After the medicine has settled in for a bit, you're slowly getting up with Chris' help, and he guides you to the bathroom and into the warm stream of the shower.

You groan as the warm water envelops your body, making Chris' dick twitch at the sound. After last night, he can't get enough of hearing your sweet sounds, and he plans on pulling so many more from you.

He steps in behind you as he closes the curtain of his shower, and you can feel him crowding your space right until you can feel his hands roaming over your arms and sides.

''Chris, what are you doing?'' you ask, a little unsure, though you would lie to yourself if you didn't enjoy him touching you.

''Shh, just let it happen Babygirl. I'm not going to hurt you, and if you feel uncomfortable, you can always use your safeword,'' he whispers, and you nod before giving yourself over to Chris and his touches.

''B-But we should talk afterward,'' you say as you turn around and look up at him.

''We will, but first, I will make you feel better, Babygirl. Orgasms are supposed to help with headaches, after all,'' he says as he nuzzles into your neck, and you lull your head to the side to give him the access he's looking for.

''Please, kiss me,'' you whine a little, and Chris is more than happy to oblige as he steps closer to your body, his now fully hard member poking against your abdomen.

His lips find yours in a sweet kiss that takes your breath away, but your hand slides between your bodies and wraps around him, making him grunt before you slowly move your hand up and down.

''Fuck, Babygirl,'' he groans against your lips, and you can't help but let your mouth curl into a smile as you hear how good he feels.

You envelop his mouth with yours while you keep rubbing up and down with your hand, teasing his tip, swallowing his sounds as your tongues dance together.

Before Chris can even tell you it's happening, you feel his dick twitch in your hand, and without warning, he cums over your hand and both your stomachs with a loud moan.

''Fucking hell, that felt so good, Babygirl, but now it's my turn to make you feel good,'' he says, and you let go of his dick, his hand inching to your dripping pussy.

You gasp as he plunges two fingers into your entrance without warning after feeling how wet you are because of him, and a high whine follows quickly after as it takes you over completely.

He keeps going in a steady motion with his fingers while his thumb plays with your clit until he suddenly stops before your orgasm.

''Trust me, Babygirl, it'll be worth it,'' he says as he picks you up and pushes you against the wall, letting you glide down slightly until your entrance catches onto his tip, and he slides in with a smooth thrust.

The water from the shower washes over you both as he slowly thrusts up into you, taking his sweet time and building you right back up to your orgasm. You trust him with your life, so this won't be any different.

He keeps whispering sweet nothings against you while thrusting, which makes the butterflies in your stomach constantly go wild with every word.

''I-I lo-o-o-ve y-you,'' you say as he picks up the pace, and with that, you shatter around him, your orgasm being mindbending as it makes you cross-eyed for a good minute.

When you're finally coming down, you slump your head forward, and with a dopey grin, you pant against his chest when you realize he came inside you, too, but you didn't even notice.

''I love you too, Babygirl, and there aren't enough words to tell you just how much,'' he says with a kiss against your temple. You two finish your shower, letting Chris wash your hair and your body before enabling you to do the same with him, making you giggle uncontrollably as he gets shampoo on his eye. He curses in a thick Boston accent at the invasion.

''When you're done, he grabs towels for both of you and dries you off, leaving kisses over every inch of skin he can reach, and it feels like second nature to both of you.

''Let's get you into some clothes; we wouldn't want you walking around the house naked when we still have guests, huh?'' he says, and your eyes grow wide as saucers as you look at him, and the realization sinks in.

They heard you fall apart on Chris' cock in the shower and probably during the night, though you don't remember anything about that.

''Chris, we still need to talk about what happened because as much as I love you, I'm not ready for a relationship now,'' you confess, and he nods.

''We can just keep on sleeping together and have a friends-with-benefits relationship,'' he offers as if it's the most normal thing in the world.

''But... what if one of us would get into a relationship with someone else?'' you ask, the thought making your throat close a little, a lump forming.

''I don't want anyone else than you, Babygirl. I want you in whichever way you'll have me, and I'll wait for you as long as I have to,'' he says before capturing your lips in one more kiss that sends you soaring.

''Okay,'' you breathe out when he pulls away, and with a big smile, you get dressed in a pair of boxer briefs. Chris hands you together with one of his shirts, which is way too big and perfect for you.

''C'mon, let's make some breakfast. You deserve it, and we need to get something in your stomach so you won't vomit like that again,'' Chris jokes, and you slap him against his chest.

''Not funny!'' you say, but you laugh anyway, and when you go down the stairs, you're greeted by some of the guests who slept over after the party, including his brother, Scott.

''Well, there we have the two lovebirds,'' he jokes, but Chris shoots him a glare with a slight shake of his head and immediately shuts his mouth.

''Just get seated, Babygirl, and I'll whip you up some breakfast, okay?'' he asks, and you happily do while scrolling through your social media, not paying attention to Chris and Scott's conversation.

''She's not ready for a relationship, but she agreed to be friends with benefits, so I'm happy with it,'' Chris says with a big smile, and Scott claps him on his shoulder approvingly, making you look at the two of them.

''I'll leave you two to your breakfast,'' he says before gracefully sliding out of the kitchen, and not long after, Chris puts a plate down in front of you with pancakes and some fruit, together with a small kiss on the crown of your head.

''I love you, Babygirl,'' he says as he gets seated, and you happily dig into your pancakes while you tell him about some things you saw on social media, but mostly dog videos, since that's precisely what the two of you bonded over, to begin with.

#chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fanfic #chris evans one shot #chris evans request #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #chris evans smut #slight dubcon/noncon

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mechaknight-98 · 30 days

Text

The Owl and the Bunny Part II FT Chaehyun

Authors note: A special request from @leafostuff. I was tasked with Finishing a piece of his that he couldn’t I hope I did okay as I took some creative liberties

Part I

Trigger Warning: Blood, Self Harm, Attempted autounalivement

Relapsing was undoubtedly the worst, but the situation became even more tangled when an unexpected connection entered the picture again. Sitting solitary in your apartment, another birthday slipped by, and there you were, gazing down upon the bustling Seoul night sky, feeling life's swift passage. You triumphed after the toils of college and relentless job searches—you secured the high rise, garnered accolades, and clinched a new promotion, all on your birthday. Yet, despite these achievements, why does an unsettling hollowness persist? When did this sentiment first take root?

You know when. it was when your favorite Bunny left you...

But before that can be stated there is some background that must be established. Before everything fell apart it was great. it was a humid summer evening you were celebrating your 3rd year of friendship. You were doing well in Top Grades, top in your chosen sport football (US Soccer), and top best friend to one happy bunny. As you sat there and watched her indulge in a mural favorite food. Your heart swelled. You decided to take a chance. You noticed her fidgeting in between bites and said “Hey Bunny I have something I gotta tell you.” Your bunny smiles and turns to you.

“Oh, Ow-lie I have something too.” She says excitedly. Enraptured by her you gesture for her to tell you her news first.

“I’m going to be on a survival show.” She bellows with a proud look. Your eyes go wide, and your heart sinks. You hide your sadness and dissatisfaction with a loving smile and a supportive hug.

“That’s great news bunny. I know you’ve been working so hard to become an idol,” you say calmly.

She hugs you again and you know this is probably one of the last times you’ll see her again. So you lie, and it breaks your heart so that she can pursue her dream.

“Oh that’s great I am so happy for you. I just wanted to tell you that I got accepted into Yale.” Bunny’s eyes go wide with pride but a pit in her heart forms as she knows that this.

That was it. The worst day of your life everything since then has been a slow burn to another downward spiral.

You're being a bit dramatic, don't you think? You know it too. She pursued her dream of shining brighter for everyone around her. She embraced her role in the forest, just like you did. You worried, but at least now you're paid for it—and exceptionally well, I might add. You ventured into business and mathematics, culminating in a successful Risk Aversion Consulting firm. Every big-name company sought your expertise during crises, ensuring almost certain recovery. Yet, why does it all feel so hollow?"You watch over and instead of celebrating after a long day's hard work, you find yourself with a knife around your wrists.

Three weeks ago, you believe you fell back into that dark spiral. Time blurred into a monotonous, endless loop from which you couldn't break free. It's hard to pinpoint exactly, but what triggered this relapse was a seemingly innocuous encounter: witnessing a happy couple during your daily walk to work. Perhaps you've passed them a thousand times before, but what struck you that day was witnessing the man's heartfelt proposal. Instead of joy, it only amplifies the ache in your heart. And so, the vicious cycle begins anew. Alone in your apartment once more, you start over. You reach out to your bunny for the first time in three years, hoping against hope that she could offer some solace, but alas, hope has often been a disappointment for you.

The text travels halfway across the city at the speed of information. A hand reaching out, A Cry for help, a prayer all contained with an invitation from one of Seoul's most sought-after and secretive bachelors. where a different kind of Emptiness gnaws at a soul. Despite being part of one of the most well-liked and appreciated girl groups of the 4th gen and arguably one of the most talented members The Bunny with the charisma of a tiger sat alone in the dorm. despite gaining 6 new sisters Chaehyun had never felt more alone. she longed for simpler times with her Owl, but he's probably long forgotten about her since she went radio silence 2 years ago when Kep1er started. it was especially true since this was her birthday. The Uncertainty of extension weighs heavily on her heart. The comments on her body, the unending Panoptic Gaze held upon her were unrelenting and she often sat in her room for hours holding back tears. She tried to hide it with a facade of Joy and bubbly energy but the mirror was cracking each day as more and more the ever-growing beast took more of her soul. The text reached her at her lowest, 3 past midnight she was crying silently to not wake her members. She read the text and could almost feel the isolation and hurt coming from the small LCD Screen

My Favorite you know how: Hey Bunny,

I hope this message finds you in good spirits. Another birthday has come and gone, and I'm grateful to have made it through. I trust you're indulging in plenty of sweets and enjoying all the pizza your heart desires. I caught wind of your latest comeback, and as expected, it was fantastic. Don't let those negative comments get under your skin too much; you're incredibly brave, far braver than I could ever be. Though, I suppose you've always had a knack for taking risks—a trait I've always admired, albeit from a safe distance.

I find myself extending the same old invitation to hang out once more, but who am I kidding? You've probably changed your number by now, and I'm likely just bothering whoever happens to receive this message.

Apologies for the intrusion,

-Y/N

You are surprised when you get a reply saying "I'll be there in 15." Your eyes widen. is your bunny coming back to you you wonder? is this your chance to finally tell how you feel? A million ideas and thoughts race through your head. it's so overwhelming that you forget about your current situation. You begin to tidy your large apartment picking up the clothes strewn around the room and forget about the increasing blood trail following you as you lose yourself in your tasks. you get so caught up that the blood loss eventually catches up with you and you pass out in the middle of your living room as more blood drips away.

Chaehyun in classic fashion opens the door without knocking when she sees you on the floor and screams.

When you come to you're in a bed that you don't recognize. you look around and see star-white walls with an insistent beeping. You sit up and hear.

"Oh you're finally awake." you turn to the voice and see a doctor. he is an older gentleman who stares at you with a somber look.

"You're lucky your girlfriend found you when she did. Otherwise, I don't think you would have made it." The Doctor Chides. You lean further into your bed after looking down and seeing your bunny who has come to rescue you. tears well up in your eyes, as you try not to cry. A memory flashes in your mind of you not leaving her, and in your selfishness you almost did.

Chaehyun stayed with you well into the morning after your "accident," feeling a deep sense of responsibility for leaving her Ow-lie behind. In her dreams, she wandered through a dark forest, desperately searching for her Owl, only to find scattered feathers. Suddenly, something stirred, and Chaehyun felt a wet sensation land on her. Looking up, she saw you crying atop her, murmuring apologies. Surprised, she gently cradled your face and kissed you, sharing a deep connection that transcended words.

Breaking the kiss, your eyes locked, and you confessed, "I love you, and I will never leave you again, no matter the cost."

Chaehyun smiled at her Ow-lie, responding with an adorable pout, "I'm going to hold you to that."

Years later, following the disbandment of Kep1er and your early "retirement," you and your bunny found yourselves on a beach, savoring the sunset and sipping from coconut straws, living your best lives.

"Hey Bunny, where do you think our next adventure should be?" you asked.

Chaehyun smiled, taking another slice of Hawaiian pizza before responding, "Um, how about... France?"

"I love it," you exclaimed.

"But Ow-lie, you love everything I suggest," Chaehyun teased, pouting playfully.

"Okay, and I love you and your ideas, so why wouldn't I love your suggestions? Besides, as long as I'm with you, any place is paradise," you replied tenderly.

Chaehyun smiled. "Okay, Ow-lie, then France it is. But after that, you get to pick."

#kpop fanfic #male reader #kim chaehyun #kep1er chaehyun

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