#Knack Focus

[taminoarticles]

— Tamino and Ramy for Knack Focus, 2018 (x)

Tamino & Ramy, Mortsel's most successful brother couple: 'Together we can do nothing bad'

Kristof Dalle 16-10-2018, 14:00 Updated on: 23-04-2022, 08:01

One is 21 and storms the sky with Amir, his debut album. The other is 18 and determines the international image of his brother from his room in Mortsel as a house photographer, director and all-round creative director. Ramy and Tamino-Amir Moharam Fouad, Mortsel's most successful family business. "There is both a romantic young soul and a nihilistic old man in me."

“When I was fourteen, I was a bit of an asshole. The classic adolescent rebellion to rebel, especially at school.'

'At school? Especially to me, yes, Tamino. I often asked Mom to send you to boarding school after all. Really very often. Well, it's clearly all worked out.'

Eighteen months after he forced his breakthrough with Habibi and was proclaimed laureate of De Nieuwe Lichting, there is still no measure of Tamino-Amir Moharam Fouad. Last month he received the Anchor Award for up-and-coming talent together with Faces on TV at the Reeperbahn Festival in Hamburg, this week Amir , his debut album, is on the shelves. Mesmerizing listening songs – as usual – peppered with Middle Eastern elements. Younger brother and film student at Sint-Lukas Brussels Ramy – 'Feel free to call him my creative director', says Tamino – provided the artwork and accompanying clips, just as he did for Blackwave , Emma Bale and Portland. Memo: one brother is 21, the other 18.

Say Ramy, you sure like that cameo as a woman, huh? Tamino

'Now that Tamino is really going international, I receive daily emails from America or Australia about artwork or promotional material', says Ramy. 'It was just about posters in the Paris metro. Crazy, if you think about it. Nothing goes on without my approval. I try to keep the overview, so that Tamino doesn't have to worry too much about it. That way he can remain a bit of a dreamy artist.'

Ramy's words whirl through the Antwerp Bar Vert. The eighteen-year-old speaks with the same confidence as his older brother, albeit much more softly and without too much intonation. It's eleven o'clock in the morning, or you would almost think that… 'I choked? Well, I hear that often.' Tamino laughs. “In high school they called him out because he was supposed to be stoned in class every day. Not so. Ramy is just extremely zen.'

Useful. Especially because at the age of eighteen, Ramy already largely controls your international image. You'd get nervous for less.

Ramy Moharam Fouad: (grins) There's a lot of pressure on me, but that's how I like it.

Tamino Moharam Fouad: I know. That also makes me feel less guilty for putting so much burden on your shoulders. We're just a good team.

Ramy: Together we can't make anything bad, I really believe that. We don't give up until it's right.

Has directing always been your calling, Ramy?

Ramy: No. Tamino would be the director, I the actor. I went to drama school from the age of eight to seventeen. Tamino was already writing pieces when he was ten and let me play them. I loved doing that.

Tamino: You just didn't know any better. It's also not that hard to get a six-year-old to play a knight who has to save the world. (laugh)

Ramy: It wasn't until I was fifteen that I became interested in photography – I did the artwork for Tamino's entrance exam at the Conservatory of Amsterdam – and later also in directing. The more behind the scenes documentaries I saw, the more that side of the business started to attract me.

In 2016 you shot the short film Damonia , of which your brother was responsible for a good part of the soundtrack. Damonia deals with dementia. What possesses a young fellow to tackle a theme that is – presumably – very far from his bed?

Ramy: When I first started photography, when I was 15, a friend of Mom's asked me if I wanted to make a series of portraits of her demented grandmother Godelieve as a keepsake. Tough, but I wanted to try. In the end it turned out to be a really nice day. Clear or not, she clearly enjoyed modeling. Her husband was also a photographer, she told me. He was currently in Africa but soon had an exhibition nearby. Her husband had died two years earlier. A day later I received a message from her granddaughter: Godelieve had died that night. I remember that I immediately thought of Damonia like crazyI have begun to write about a woman who longs in vain for her husband's return. That was the first time I felt such a compulsion: I had to tell that story, and photos alone wouldn't get me there.

Today you will also be directing your brother's clips, most recently Persephone's, in which Tamino sings to his beloved as Hades. It is remarkably understated compared to your earlier work.

Ramy: I wanted to portray the Persephone myth quite subtly, since the song is already very heavy and full of symbolism anyway. Although it had to be an intense viewing experience at the same time. For some, it might be too much of a good thing, but hey, so be it.

Tamino: The same goes for the song itself: it asks a lot of the listener. Which essentially gives you free rein for the accompanying clip.

We now know that Tamino works quite uncompromisingly. But apparently it's a family trait?

Tamino: I'm stubborn, but Ramy is at least twice as bad. Which also strikes me as a good quality for an artist. Although it is still a punishment how he cannot be dismissed from his vision at the age of eighteen. Even if that sometimes makes the collaborations very intense.

Do you always pull the same rope on set?

Tamino: We're always on the same side, yes. (…) What are you laughing at now?

Ramy: What about Cigar ? It's true that we're usually on the same page, but in the run-up to that clip he must have invaded my room at least five times. "Hey Ramy, you're sure about my cameo as a woman, aren't you?" "Yes, Tamino." "But really, huh?"

Tamino: I don't mind walking around in women's clothes. But it had to match the rest of the story. And I wanted to be a beautiful woman. (laughs)

Ramy: Come on, Tamino, you really are a beautiful woman.

Come Tamino, you are a beautiful woman. Ramy

Remarkably, that was still an issue in the first place. Last year you told in this magazine how liberating it was to be raised only by your mother and you never had to hide your feminine side, like your falsetto voice.

Tamino: That was also very liberating. And again, I actually really like to show up in women's clothes, but it wasn't supposed to look like a joke. It was also true: we asked the girls in the clip to dress up as nineteenth-century prostitutes, so putting on a skirt was the least I could do.

Ramy: I think I have that feminine in me even more than Tamino. Largely because Mommy raised us alone.

Tamino: You have a certain softness that you could possibly call feminine. But at the same time – if we think in traditional roles – a hardness and stubbornness that is just very masculine.

In the clip of Tummy, Ramy portrays you as a living pharaoh statue. No matter how much you try to wash off the gold paint at night, every morning, ad aeternam you still wake up like a shining pharaoh. A quite literal nod to the exaggerated emphasis on your roots and your grandfather, the famous Egyptian singer Moharam Fouad?

Ramy: That's one of the elements. That clip is a good summary of the record for me. 'Amir' means 'prince' in Arabic. A prince has no choice, he is born that way. The same goes for musicians. You can't run away from who you are.

Tamino: The choice for that pharaoh was of course obvious. It remains very strange, the realization that when people hear that I am a half-Egyptian musician, they still automatically think of pyramids and sphinxes. (dry) There are really very few pyramids in my music. When I think of Egyptian music, it is, for example, a firqa, an extensive Middle Eastern orchestra that includes oud and ney players, the kind my grandfather, or Umm Kulthum, also performed with.

That clip made me feel somewhat sorry for Tamino, who tries little successfully to escape from all the attention. Was that the intended emotion?

Ramy: No. But I do like to hear it .

Tamino: It's been going really fast for me for a year and a half now, but I can't complain about that, can I? This is what I've wanted to do all my life, there's never been another option. At the same time, I understand Tom Waits when he says: 'It's funny how you want to get people's attention. But when you get it, you want people to fuck off.' And I'm not talking about the fans, but about all the noise: the appointments, the promo, the flow of emails...

You did incorporate your grandfather's music into the record.

Tamino: Inne Eysermans of Amatorski set to work with Moharam's music. She took a couple of my grandfather's cassettes, worked on them overnight, and by morning she had thirty wacky new soundscapes ready. I don't understand how she does it at all. Pure wizard. I can only listen to it with my mouth open.

I am also glad that I could be guided by a Brussels firqa. Until then I just had some arrangements in my music program, then suddenly everything fell together. They had previously asked me to perform with them with my grandfather's music. But I really didn't feel ready for that: I don't know Arabic and I'm not schooled in that music at all.

Have you already performed in Egypt?

Tamino: No, and if I ever play there, it won't be obvious. With my legacy.

As the grandson of the Egyptian Frank Sinatra.

Tamino: I am very happy that I could start in a country where hardly anyone knows who Moharam Fouad was. Because even before I can sing a note, the average Egyptian will have formed an image of how I should sound. My father was never able to cash in on his singing career in Egypt: he always remained 'the son of'.

Which song on Amir do you want to work on, Ramy?

Ramy: Chambers. Strong song, sticks and I immediately had a lot of images in my head. Not everyone on the team was a fan of that song, but I was very resolute against it.

Tamino: There's a good clip in that, yes. I draw parallels between relationships and a battlefield, how you can sometimes oppose each other as two armies. 'In your feigned retreat I'll follow blindly in defeat.' Napoleon was also defeated: 'Tiens, the British are on the run? We're going after it!'

Ramy: (smiles) I get goosebumps when he quotes from it. I have that too with Will of This Heart.

A song about how someone dragged you out of a dark period.

Tamino: Something, not someone. Love, and how it can get you out of a deep valley but also make you soar so high that you become vulnerable again. 'No one else could match your flavor.' I would never sing that about a person. (laughter) Be a little realistic. Verses is a love song to someone, in the purest sense, inspired by The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran.

Together we can do nothing bad, I really believe that. We don't give up until it's right. Ramy Moharam Fouad

The Prophet must be pretty much your favorite book. In the foreword, Gibran's work is described as 'a romantic rebellion in a cold world'. Do you see yourself that way too?

Tamino: I don't so much rebel against a cold world, but rather against my own nihilism. Amir is one big contrast between the romantic and the apathetic. I really want to surrender – 'fuck it, you get everything, you get me completely' – but often I don't feel anything at all. A song like So It Goes is about that, about how you don't seem to notice the beauty around you at all. (thinks) There is both a romantic young soul and a nihilistic old man in me.

Ramy: I recognize it in myself too, although I would call it focus rather than nihilism. When I'm in a flow, I'm anything but social.

Tamino: That's why I haven't changed a bit in the last year. I'm just working, I wouldn't even know where to schedule diva scenes in my calendar. (laugh) In order to get everything done, you have to flatten yourself. I see a lot of artists who struggle with that. Understandable. Artists are not made to flatten themselves.

Is that why you're both up so early? The questionable talent to flatten everything where necessary.

Tamino: No. Nihilism kills everything, it is of little use to you. We owe a lot to Mom, who always left us free to do what we wanted to do. And besides that, Ramy and I just share a certain passion and willingness to sacrifice everything for that. Coming back to Tummy: if you're born with a calling, a talent, or whatever you want to call it, you can't help but feel it. If you're lucky enough that everything falls into place, then you don't let that slip out of your hands, do you? Then you just grow up very quickly.

Ramy: It's a very strange realization, but I haven't really felt like a student for a day. I'm just going with Tamino's rhythm. Fortunately, I can do a lot from my room, while he has to stand on it every day, facing the outside world. (thinks) Everyone says we're old souls.

Tamino: (half admonishing) Ramy, you don't say that about yourself.

Ramy: People say: 'Ramy, you are so young. Enjoy life anyway.' But this is my way of enjoying it. I feel physically bad if I don't get the most out of a day.

I hope to make a feature film someday. I look up to Xavier Dolan, but even harder to Spike Jonze. Ramy Moharam Fouad

Tamino: I have a hard time enjoying the fleeting things. Drinking wine on a terrace? A sun holiday at a swimming pool? Mumps. It's fun at the moment, but it doesn't stop there. Gibran says, "Labour is love made visible." That's right. It gives life meaning.

At eighteen you already have a vision of the direction you want to go, Ramy – if you have to choose?

Ramy: I hope to be able to play a full-length one day. And after a year of mainly video clips, I now really feel the need to work out my own project again.

Tamino: You're a storyteller. While a video clip, just like a song, is at most a sketch. You can never put everything into that.

Ramy: In three minutes I can lose my egg. Clips are also very grateful, because you do get a response. Let's be honest: such a short film is fantastic to make, but you know that you will never reach a large audience with it. I now have to redo my first year at Sint-Lukas – Tamino was my biggest priority this year – but of course I don't regret it for a second. I couldn't imagine a better school.

Reportedly, you mainly look up to Canadian director Xavier Dolan.

Ramy: It's hard not to admire Dolan, isn't it. There are very few directors who have already shot five relevant, intelligent films before the age of twenty-five. Although today I look even more up to Spike Jonze (director of Her and Being John Malkovich, ed.) Dolan's rawer work is very interesting, but I lean more towards Jonze's magical realism, creating a reality within reality. Damonia and my video clips always have such a dreamy atmosphere.

I understand. Jonze also started with video clips. And Jackass of course. I can still see you doing that. Tamino

Tamino: I get it. Jonze also started shooting music videos before shooting great movies. And Jackass of course. I can still see Ramy doing that. (laughs)

Ramy: First we have to make that animation sequence that you came up with. Walking Stick Charlie , about the adventures of a stick insect.

Tamino: Soon someone else will be walking along. But admit it's a good idea? Not least because such a stick insect reduces the animation costs enormously.

#tamino #tamino amir #ramy moharam fouad #knack focus #article #interview #dutch #2018 #with photoshoot #english translated text #photo from vk

[donutdrawsthings]

*grabs you by the arms, and by you I also mean me*

Listen to me. You have to allow yourself to indulge in things that are currently popular. You have to allow yourself to make and wear things that are going to age with time and mark a certain point in your life. You are not losing your individuality by watching a popular movie or show. There will never be anyone quite like you, and all you're doing is allowing yourself to live in the moment and have some fun.

Never stop questioning things, though. Never JUST go with the flow because that's what others like and you can tolerate it at best. You know what you like better than anyone else, and you should never let external factors pressure you into doing anything! Just don't lose yourself in the isolating corners of "uniqueness". It can be such a lonely place to be in... Even long term as you look back on memories. Having something be dated is fun and something to laugh about.

You're not just another grain of sand for enjoying yourself

#a reminder for myself... because i have a knack for being isolated and lonely on levels beyond my own comprehension #and the way i've been viewing 'individuality' as of late is just... not healthy. and overly judgemental. #I do still wish people were more driven by their own interests regardless of external expectations or... whatever sells better #but judging someone else's fun just isn't right i think. and i really need to focus more on fun and love again #rather than everything that irks me. #talkies #live a little. so you don't have to be scared anymore for when it ends #ramble #long post #i guess

[h3rmitsunited]

who needs therapy when you can buy a dumb little object to put on a shelf in your room

#im living in an emotional period where im pmsing stressed about this big test i have in less than two weeks and have hyperactive #adhd brain that is making my thoughts all crazy beehive of hazy buzzing and i cant focus #so i stress scrolled on internet shopping #and listen i know that buying a miniature model of the pierrefonds castle (which is where they filmed merlin) isnt going to fix that #but i mean fuck its gonna look sick as hell on my shelf of random shit that makes me happy to look at #i didnt finally hang those shelves two weeks ago to not put stupid knick knacks on them

[knackfandomarchive]

Does Lucas have Freckles in KNACK I? (Poll)

I have no idea how to do the alt text. Essentially I grabbed several screenshots of Lucas in the early chapters of the first game, where I thought his freckles might be visible, and cropped the images so they're a little zoomed in on [tumblr].

If you're able, try to view each image closely, or rather, open the image and stand a little away from your device, before answering the poll down below. If Lucas has freckles, then Doctor Vargas definitely has freckles.

I wanted to zoom a bit on this video but I don't know yet how to do that.

Anyway poll time!

#knack 1 #lucas knack #video game screenshots #edited screenshots #cropped #video game cutscenes #flashing #freckles #tumblr poll #poll #my poll #character design #His eyes are so big I wonder if he'd have equally big eyelashes if they were portrayed. #I can't wait to turn him into a vampire. #his Angel of Vengeance will not be pleased to say the least #Also I have some screenshots with a mental focus on Lucas that have a wonderful composition #Maybe I'll share those soon? #discoknack (me)

[nightly-ruse]

Aon is so cute I love her brilliant green eyes they look so good especially against her pretty purple color and teal highlights- last gift piece in my spur of the moment need to draw ppls characters and for the ever so talented writing wizard @myths-of-fantasy <3333

(Aon is a rather round fluffy gray cat with a lighter gray chest, eyebrows, and muzzle. She has vibrant emerald green eyes with brighter shooting stars reflected in them. A bright purple color is on her neck with the little holds accentuated with a teal color, as well as on the ankh charm on her collar where a tag often is. She is sitting with her face to the camera. A purple background is around her with darker colors washed over her, a pale green brightening over her eyes and chest to make them even brighter and the main focus. End ID)

#gift art #I love her face it is very cat like and I love it #I dunno just very cup-able. Maybe she just reminds me a lot of my own cat Iris #Hope you like how she came out! #I tried to make sure her eyes were a big focus just bc they look so good. The greens are amazing #night knacks #for anyone who hasn’t checked out their works on both the tagged account but also strelles-universe go it’s amazing #Seriously I love to just dive into the various tags and read all of it it’s amazing. Really makes your brain bubble with so many ideas

[selineram3421]

здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanons

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @biromanticboba @kiraisastay @pooplyface1423 @ducky-died-inside @scary-noodlesblog @lbcreations-blog @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #gn reader #the radio demon #alastor x reader #headcanons #alastor headcanons #jealousy #implied murder #implied torture #gore? #eyeballs #this turned out more like a fic #he do want all your attention tho

[starstruckmiraclekitty]

Simon, who wasn’t an expert in sexual situations by any means, felt his heart skip a beat when you told him you wanted him to take your virginity.

Simon, who wanted to make this night perfect for you, spent hours online researching what candles to buy, and how best to set up his room for you.

Simon, who spent the afternoon cleaning his flat for tonight, finished the final touches of his bedroom- lighting the numerous candles that littered about the room, and making sure the sheets of his bed were freshly washed.

Simon, whose palms were sweating with nerves as he led you into his room that night, couldn’t help the smile that lined his lips as you looked around the room in awe.

Simon, who wanted to make sure that you truly wanted this with him, asked for your consent about a half dozen times that night.

Simon, who always had a knack for taking your breath away when kissing you, captured your lips in his before laying you down gently on his bed.

Simon, you truly thought you were the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on, practically drooled when you were finally completely bare to him.

Simon, who took his time making you come undone with his tongue, grinned at the mewls escaping your lips- the small noises driving him into a frenzy between your thighs.

Simon, who made sure you were plenty prepped for his large length, went painstakingly slow as he pushed himself inside you.

Simon, whose entire body stilled at your strangled cry, stilled his movements until you gave him the okay to continue.

Simon, whose heart swelled with pride when you moaned his name for the first time that night, pressed loving kisses across your face as he began a steady pace.

Simon, who would die a happy man in that moment, wanted nothing more than to hear his name falling from your lips endlessly- and would do anything in his power to achieve this.

Simon, who had scars littering nearly every inch of his body, decided to himself that he wouldn’t mind if your fingernails left marks of their own as they pressed firmly into his back- he’d wear those marks with pride.

Simon, who felt his high coming fast, did his best to prolong his release until you found your second of the night- the need to feel you tightening around his length becoming his sole focus in that moment.

Simon, whose heart nearly melted at the sight of you, was nearly in tears at the way you looked at him so lovingly- both of you fresh off your combined release.

And Simon, who never thought it possible to love you more than he did, fell in love with you tenfold as he held you close that night- a peaceful smile lining both your lips as you drifted off to sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Apologies for the spam posts- I’m in a writing frenzy after finishing the campaign🥹❤️

#simon riley imagine #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #cod imagine #mw2 imagine #ghost x reader #ghost mw2

[giuliettagaltieri]

Claim the Heritage

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snow x First Lady!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Wife

Warning: casual dominance, marital quarrels, tension, vulnerability, explicit smut, cunnilingus, p in v, unprotected sex, body worship, brat taming, self destructive tendencies

Word Count: 4364

6 of 6

Coriolanus Snow has a knack of pushing himself too far.

He expects too much from himself and does everything in his power to meet those expectations.

As a student and a starting politician, he has done great things, contributing fresh insights to Panem.  And now that he is the President, he has the power to do things with his own hands.  No longer having to need the approval of people of higher status, not when he’s the President, nobody has power greater than his.

You worry that he might be forgetting his other responsibilities.

He is after all, not just Mister President but also your husband.

You see him often in the corridors and you exchange nothing more than sultry glances.  It was fun the first time you have done it but you are left wanting now.

At night, the two of you come home late, too tired to get some action going.

You have needs that long to be fulfilled.

And your unfed desires manifested in your temper.

The men in the room are discussing the recent power outage that paralyzed Panem for a day.  A malfunction caused by severe water temperatures in the hydroelectric dam in District 5 caused a cascading error in the system.  The Capitol and a portion of District 1 and 2 were able to continue their operation due to generators but the other Districts suffered from it.  And the one day pause of labor caused a slight drop to Panem’s stock charts.

All eight of your husband’s subordinates are trying to raise their opinions about the matter, how they will conduct another investigation as they are quite convinced it was human error, and how they will punish the one responsible for it too.

Their voices are starting to irritate you, making you tap your foot under the desk.  Coriolanus seems to be ignoring them as he reads through the report.  How he can manage to focus, you have absolutely no idea.

You try to regain your composure by taking a sip of water but it does not help, not one bit.  Deep intakes of breath also seem to be not working.

Coriolanus is still reading the report, his back against his chair as one of his hands toy with his pen.  His fingers are looking rather breathtaking today.

You look away before anyone could notice your desperation.

“Frankly, you are all arguing about matters that have been resolved already.”  He murmurs and you are thankful for it as the room quiets down.

“What do you mean sir?”

You bite your cheek to stop yourself from berating the man.  But Coriolanus can see that arch in your brow any day.  You are pissed.

“You have something to say, wife?”  He smiles knowingly at you and you look at him sharply but his smile only widens more.

“Well, all of you are being foolish!”  You finally burst.  Coriolanus leans back in his chair as if he is watching a rather interesting show.  “There is a report given, and a very good one at that.  Do you all have poor reading comprehension that you cannot understand that this is not a human error!”

The room falls silent as the men stare at you with their cheeks pinking in embarrassment.

Coriolanus clears his throat and leans closer to his desk.  “I believe what the Missus wants to say is that we must be coming up with solutions to prevent this from happening again rather than point fingers.”

You glare at him again but Coriolanus is not looking at you but the men who are nodding in agreement.  You hear a chorus of apologies from the men and you can’t help your bottom lip from jutting out in irritation.

“We can strengthen the system.  A collaboration with District 3, perhaps?”  A man says nervously, eyes flitting to you for approval but you don’t acknowledge him.

The other men raise their support.  They have to stay in your good graces.  All eight of them are dispensable.  If you talk to your husband to eliminate them, there will be nothing they can do.

They are proud men, but they too are necessary associates, albeit shortsighted at times.

You lean on your chair and swivel it so you are partially facing your husband.  “Another source of power.”

He nods at you to continue.

“A solar plant.”  You say.  “It is a good back up.”

Coriolanus rubs his chin and considers it for a moment.  “Indeed.  May I ask you to write a proposal, my love?”

“Of course.”  You say and you begin tidying up your stuff.  Coriolanus picks it up and addresses the men in general.

“I appreciate your…enthusiasm in helping our great nation.  Good day, gentlemen.”

They all file out of the room, thanking the President and you.  They all seem to sweat when you dismiss them with nothing but a brief nod.

Coriolanus leaves his chair and he eyes the pout in your lips. 

“Have a great day.”  You say as you stand.

“Leaving so soon?”  He raises a brow.

You stop in your tracks to look at him weirdly.  “You asked me to write a proposal?”

He hums at this and presses a chaste kiss on your lips.  “I will be seeing you at lunch, then.”  He guides you to the door and you both exit the meeting room to go to your separate offices.

His behavior is really really starting to irk you.

You are lying if you were not hoping that he would stop you and at least help out with the tension in your body.

But you guess not, he is a busy guy after all.

Coriolanus buries himself more and more with work.

You worry that he might be close to self-destruction.

The crops in District 9 suffered from a locust infestation and it kept him up very late for a few weeks.

You started to miss him very much.  Try as you might to stay awake in your room, it is not until nearly sunrise when he joins you.

It hurts and you hate yourself for being selfish.

One morning as you share your breakfast, you notice that he is barely touching his food as he reads the report about the red tide poisoning in District 4.

“Corio, eat.”  You say before your lips wrap around a strawberry.

He only hums in response as he flips to the next page of the report.

You glance at him and see the dark circles under his eyes, his skin looking dehydrated, and it is evidenced by the cracks in his lips.

“You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You say lowly before you suck on your finger absentmindedly, your eyes now scanning your bowl for the next strawberry you’ll eat.

This caught his attention.

“What did you just say?”  There was a challenge in his voice and you hesitate for a moment, heart wanting to submit and apologize but the Swansworth blood courses through your veins and you fear you will shame the strong women before you if you fold so easily.

You look at him dead in the eye.  “You will die before you turn thirty if you keep that up.”  You smile at him sweetly.  “Was that clear enough for you, or do I have to repeat myself again?”

His jaw tightens, his eyes sharp.  He does not take mentions of his death lightly.  Had you been anyone else, you would have your tongue cut off and live as an Avox.

“You really are your father’s daughter.”  He sighs, trying his best to hide the amused smile you put on his face.

You wanted to retort but your words die in your tongue.  Coriolanus glances up at you when you don’t speak.  Usually, you would have bitten another comment at him.  But you were only looking at your strawberries sadly, finger tracing the bowl that held them.

The sound of paper crinkling had you looking up.  He folded the report away, he had the necessary information he needed anyway.  Coriolanus knows you are watching him and he scoops a mouthful of truffle scrambled eggs.  You gave him the sweetest smile he had seen on your face for weeks, and it was motivation enough for him to eat the breakfast that was served to him.  Yet, he still finishes first.

You pout unknowingly when he wipes his lips with the napkin and walks over to kiss your forehead.

“I will be seeing you later for your report.”

“See you.”  You reply with less enthusiasm.

He watches how sadness swam in your eyes and he leans closer to peck your lips and he is off.

You did not have much energy for work afterwards.

The meeting was at 10 in the morning and you arrived in the meeting room at 10:02.  Coriolanus was not pleased.

He did not back you up when the other men in the room asked questions about your presentation.  It was their job to pick apart your proposal and you only show them how flawless it is.  They are finally satisfied with it after a while, your throat burning from how many questions they asked.

You are infuriated with your husband.  You feel like he is throwing you to the wolves.  Not that you can’t tame the said wolves but it made your blood boil.

“I have decided to call this solar plant, Coriolanus 9.”  You attempt a smile and they actually bite.  “In honor of our President, and us.”  You purposefully let yourself blend in with the men in this proposal.  You need to boost their morale from time to time.

All eight of them murmur their agreement, smiles wide as they feel honored just by being included in the project.

After a few more questions from them, your husband finally adjourns the meeting.

His lack of support was not appreciated and you are determined to get out of this stuffy meeting room.

“Gentlemen, that would be all.”  

What about you?

Your lips part in protest but Coriolanus raises a finger at you, making you close your mouth as you narrow your eyes at him.

After the men filed out, you got up briskly, your chair wheeling back in a great speed.

“Careful.”

“Oh, so you’re talking now?”  You snap, your hand placed on your hip.

Coriolanus only leans on his chair as he looks you in the eye, his chin tilted upwards.

“I am…”  he pauses as he scratches his chin.  “upset with you.”

You scoff.  “You are upset with me? I am upset with you!”  You point at him harshly.  “You were the one who asked me to make a proposal and present it afterwards!  But what did you do?  You did not support me or give me assurance!”

“I was confident in your proposal.”  Coriolanus stands up calmly, his hands in his pockets, his thumb jutting out.

You give him one final glare and you huff, turning your nose up as you look away.  “I am done talking to you today.”

Coriolanus grips your arm before you can walk away.

His hand is warmer than usual and you frown.

“Do you need me to put you in your place?”  

The threatening growl in his voice washed away all the fight in you.

You bite your lip nervously, the entire bottom lip disappearing behind a row of teeth.  You shake your head and you tear up from how pathetic you have become for this man.

He smooths your hair and places a warm kiss against your temple.  “Be good.”  He murmurs.

You watch him collect his things and he throws you one final warning glance and he exits the meeting room.  Your hands grip the hardwood table to steady yourself.

How dare he!

You are his wife, not some District whore that needs to be reprimanded, you will not allow such disrespect again!

Coriolanus is not surprised to see you miss lunch.  His assistant tells him that you are having luncheon with Mrs. Plinth.  And that…you canceled all your plans for the day.  And the rest of the week.

He taps a finger on his desk and wonders if he pushed you too far earlier. 

Coriolanus glances at your photo in his desk.  Your smile was brighter then.  

A slight pounding in his head makes him grimace and he groans.

There were two more bills he needed to get through before he could relax.  Coriolanus inhales sharply, forcing his eyes to read through the files.

It was night time when he came home.  He missed dinner again.

Coriolanus had an unsettling feeling in his stomach when he entered your home.  It was dark and cold.

There was enough security outside but no signs of life inside.

Your servants usually retire after dinner and come back only in the mornings to serve you your breakfast.

But where are you?

Coriolanus doubles his steps to check your bedroom, you are not there.

His heart starts pounding, cold sweat dripping from his temple as he runs around his mansion in his tight suit.  He wanted to ask the peacekeepers stationed outside if you are even in your mansion when he catches a glimpse of your sheer robe in your sunroom.  He steps closer and sees you there, asleep in your plush chair, curled up around a book.

For a moment, he just stares at you, calming himself down.  No one has taken you and you did not leave.  Coriolanus seats himself to the identical chair across you and just looks at the rise and fall of your chest.

You must have fallen asleep as you were having your afternoon read.  It appears you might have missed dinner, as none of the lights are on.  The servants must have left it off so as to not disturb your sleep.

The night deepens and he just sits there, still convincing himself that you are still with him.

Coriolanus believes he will be there until morning comes but fate has other plans and your book slips from your hold, the hardcover making a loud slamming noise against the otherwise silent evening.

You jolt awake from the noise and when you reach for it, you catch a glimpse of him and you jolt for the second time.

“Heavens!”  You clutch your chest tightly, your eyes glaring accusingly at him.  “Do not scare me like that!”

He laughs hollowly.

“Apologies.”  He mutters.

You lean back in your chair, holding your book in your lap.

“Have you eaten your dinner?”  You ask just to break the silence.

“Not yet and neither did you.”  He uncuffs his sleeves and loosens his tie.

You purse your lips.  “I had tea and cakes this afternoon.”

“When did tea and cakes pass as dinner?”  He drapes his waistcoat on the armrest together with his tie.

You choose not to answer as you have a feeling the question was rhetorical.

Coriolanus rests his arms on his thighs and clasps his hands as the silence lengthens.  Moonlight was emitting a pale glow, it reflected on your faces and everything else was still.

“My father casts a very large shadow.”  He tells you.

You nod.  You both have that in common.  But you do not want to tell him as his case was different.  You are aware of his struggle while growing up, the things he has done that could have tarnished his name, and now, he has become the President, a leader of Panem, and the footsteps that his father left for him to follow might be too large for him.

“I wanted to do everything right.  To do things how he would have done it.  Maybe even more.”

You play with the edges of your book as you listen, afraid that if you’ll talk, his walls will come building itself up again.

“He was not the best father.  Nor husband.”  He chuckles bitterly.  “I was sure, I would be just like him too.”

You bite your lip as you will yourself not to cry in front of him.

“But I enjoy your company, wife.”  Coriolanus tells you truthfully.  “I love you.”  He confesses, making your chest tighten.  “I do not wish for this marriage to fail.”

You cannot help how a tear rolls down your cheek.

“Come here.”  He commands and you throw yourself to him, sobbing to his chest.  “I am terribly sorry for being a lousy husband.”

Your tears soak his dress shirt as Coriolanus peppers kisses on your head.

“Been neglecting my wife, how awful of me.”  His hand grips on your bum possessively.  “When she should have been worshiped day by day.”  His tone changes ever so slightly into something you hear only inside your bedroom walls.

You do not protest when he lays you on the chaise lounge.  Your sobs turn to sniffles when Coriolanus parts your thighs and bunches your dress until it shows your abdomen.

“Corio.”  You whisper his name like a prayer and he mumbles yours against your skin.  You watch as he plants his lips on your scar.  A scar that you got from taking a bullet for him.

It was not the last time you whispered his name in the dead of the night.

“Your petals always have the sweetest nectar.”  He groans and you feel yourself shy away, hips hiking up and away from him but his arms tighten their hold around your thighs and he looks at you from there, his eyes giving you a silent warning.

“S-sorry-ah!”  You gasp as his tongue darts out to lick the juices off your slit.  His tongue pokes at your pearl and you break eye contact with him when he wraps his lips on your tiny nub.

Coriolanus looks at you with his eyes now lazy but his tongue, the opposite!

He kisses you and in an act of total impulsiveness, starts tracing his name on your clit.  Coriolanus Snow was owning you in every way possible.

He had you reduced to your most carnal self.  Your hands were on his platinum hair, gripping them tightly in your hold, selfishly pulling him in.  Your thighs are resting on his broad shoulders.  And your cunt, it was making a mess on your chaise lounge and on your husband’s face.

Coriolanus groans as he parts your lips so he could kiss your opening.  His thick finger, that you have been craving, sliding on your juices before he plunges it knuckle-deep.  It might have been a mistake on his part given your sensitivity after having to be forced to join him in his self-induced celibacy.  Your lewd mewl brought rouge to his cheeks.

You bring your hands to your mouth to hush yourself and Coriolanus took that as a challenge.  He sits up, sitting on his ankles to press your thigh to your chest as his finger prods at you from the inside.

You are writhing underneath him.  Telling him how good he is making you feel.  Oh, and he reveled in it.  Every sound that comes from your lips, it fueled his desire more and more.

A second finger was added and you shriek from the stretch, it has been a while, he needs to be more gentle!  But Coriolanus cannot help himself when you look so pretty.  Your cheeks wet with tears, eyelashes clumping up, as your hands formed tiny fists.  Any form of his self control has disappeared when you are gushing and pulsating around his fingers.

He knows you’re nearly there, so close!

You pant, closing your eyes as his fingers massaged your walls, coaxing you to climb higher and higher and-

“Coriolanus!”  You yell furiously when he pulls his fingers out.

Your husband grins at you as he wipes his face from your slick.

“I seem to recall that someone was not a very good girl this morning?”  His hands trailed at your hips and you almost tear up from frustration.

He was supposed to be making it up to you!  He had no reason to bring up the events this morning.

In an act of defiance, you huff and you reach your own sex to flick at your clit.  Your fingers are more delicate, making you gasp at the gentle pleasure.

Coriolanus grins as he watches you play with yourself.  Enjoying how you grow more and more frustrated as you cannot give yourself the same pleasure.  You shriek angrily as you pull your fingers away, you slam your tiny feet on the chaise and Coriolanus laughs. 

“Are you done being a brat?”

You are too stubborn to answer but you do not stop him when he maneuvers you until you are on your stomach, you groan softly in discomfort when he pulls your hips so your cunt is presented to him beautifully.

His fingers are prodding your entrance again and you mewl when he pops his tip in.   Coriolanus stays there for a moment as his hands, rough from his time as a peacekeeper, grips on your waist firmly.

“There’ll be no stopping, alright?”  He reminds you.  “We’re done when I say we’re done.”

You lift your head from the plush of the chaise lounge and you give him a nod. 

“Put your head back down, my love.”

You do as he tells you and you brace yourself.

Coriolanus enters you with a sharp thrust, and your whimper is muffled by the cushions.  Your husband thrusts at a steady speed, his eyes watching the impact ripple on your body.

Your breath hitches with every kiss his tip makes on your cervix.  Every slap of his hips against you makes the crudest sound, sending a jolt of arousal through you.  President Snow is a man of the most refined of tastes, the pinnacle of order.  But when he beds you, he is just as raw, just as unrestrained.

“Don’t know why I deprived myself of your wet cunt for so long.”  And his mouth spewing the most vulgar of things.

He uses his weight to push you further in the mattress so he can fuck you deeper.  Your cunt spasms and you moan shakily, almost sobbing.

“Chase it, my love.”  He groans deeply.

And you unravel, lewd sobs spilling from your polished tongue as your back arches, cunt creaming around his cock.

Coriolanus watches you sob, your shoulders shaking as his thrusts do not relent.  His eyes flicker to where your bodies meet, your warm juices are dripping on his taut sack.

“Corio…Corio please!  I don’t think I can anymore….”

“Hm?”  He reaches to grab your chin.  “Thought I told you that we’re only done when I say so?”

You look at him with tears sliding down your cheeks.  You can’t even focus on him, body shuddering when your tummy feels another tight coil.

Coriolanus inhales sharply when he feels the familiar pulsation of your warm softness.

His tip twitches as it bumps your plump cervix.  And when you call his name with your broken voice as you cum, he shoots his seed in you.

“Hah…hah.”  

He is panting from on top of you, his hand placed against your bottom to keep himself up.

Coriolanus gently pulls himself out, watching the gossamer webbing of your arousal on his cock.  He smacks your bum and you tighten your cunt to keep his seed from spilling.  He scoots closer so he is holding you, your back against his chest as your legs tangled together.

The two of you gaze at the moon from the enormous windows of your sunroom.  It was calm again.  Nothing but your heartbeats and the gentle breathing lulling each of you closer to sleep.

“Corio.”  You call his name softly.

He hums in response as he pulls you closer, just needing to feel you against him.

“The people of Panem are not your fucking masters.”

His brows meet and he glances at you, wondering where all of this is coming from.

“They cannot have you always cleaning up their mess like you are some District servant.”

He shifts you so you are facing him now.  His stern brows meet to let you know you are on thin ice.

“You govern your people.  You don’t coddle them.  Let the District officials do their job.  They must learn to solve their own problems and the Capitol Bureaucrats must see to it that they are doing it in ways that align with your judgment.  And you lead them from the top.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

You yawn like the adorable thing you are.  “So Snow lands on top.”

He clicks his tongue smoothly.  “You are only attracted to power.”

“My love.”  You say rather darkly.  “You are power.”

Coriolanus falls silent, contemplating your words, letting himself process it.

He sighs as he looks at you in endearing defeat.  “You just want a vacation, don’t you?”

You fight back a smile as you smack his chest.

“I am being serious, Coriolanus Snow.”

He pulls you closer, teeth glinting as he snickers.  “I understand that, Y/N Snow.”

“Y/N Swansworth-Snow.”  You remind him and he laughs.

“Of course, of course.”

You lean your head on his chest and your cheek soaks his warmth.

“You know, you are not your father, Corio.”

He winces.  “I know…I’m just-”

“You are better.”

That sinks deep in him.

He now understands why there was something in you that pulled him in.  No one in Panem, or in this world, could understand his soul in its most naked form.  You are his stability.  Someone whom he cannot scare away when he is darkest.

Because it seems like you might be exactly just like him.  Just as cruel, just as evil, with no regards to anyone but each other.

And he is fine with that, even if the world is burned to ash around you.

“My love for you is catastrophic.”  Coriolanus murmurs against your skin and you smile as you close your eyes.

You run your finger on his chest.  “And my love for you is all-consuming.”

Coriolanus and you are obsessive, ablazed with reckless passion, villainous in nature, but it is easy to justify when you are both equally drunk with dangerous devotion.

The people of Panem be damned.  

The odds will forever be in your favor.

Hunt for Glory

#coriolanus snow x y/n #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus smut #coriolanus x reader #the hunger games #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunt for glory

[liliannadelaphinehartifelt]

OKAY OKAY HEAR ME OUT-

A oneshot where the rest of the hazbin crew finding out that Alastor already owned Reader's soul?! Fluff btw!

Like like

"Some overlord owns your soul?? Who?!"

Reader: "hahaha.. I wonder who.."

Husk: "you don't wanna know."

Alastor sipping his tea on the other side of the room (obviously listening in)

Alastor - [ HIDDEN HEARTSTRINGS ]

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[ SFW ] + [ FLUFF ] [ SLIGHT LANGUAGE WARNING ]

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The Hotel was abuzz with life; Charlie rushed around checking in with everyone as they worked on various tasks, and said occupants tried their best to focus amid her constant scurrying.

The Princess of Hell had decided a Grand Opening event would benefit the Hotel.

You didn’t think it was half a bad idea, recently a resident of the newly improved establishment yourself and a sinner with a rare knack for helping others. The promise of redemption did seem silly to you, but the idea was fresh, and you desired to see if it was possible before completely disregarding the Princess’s dream.

You gave a helping hand whenever asked, smiled as kind as ever, and had a genuine nature subtly, inviting the others closer into your friendly aura.

Angel referred to you often as the “sweetest doll in the shop,” poking fun at your generous endeavors, but truly a fan of your presence nonetheless. Vaggie came to you for advice often, needing a calmer voice of reason when Charlie’s overbearing tendencies became too much for her, and you’d give your time graciously. Husk and Niffty, you knew all too well before you arrived at the Hotel, generally comfortable in their company and able to enjoy a drink with them occasionally.

Everyone cherished you in one way or another, which showed significantly in their approach to you.

Angel, as vulgar as he was, tended not to tease you as often as the others. Though there were times he couldn’t resist a good jab at your modesty, amused by how quickly you blushed while attempting to stutter out an equally snarky remark.

The two of you were at it now, taunting one another while giving a once over of the hotel's new advertisement flyers, but your focus was nowhere near the polished posters as you tried to retort Angel's last statement. He’d made another comment about your avoidance of the hotel's resident facilities manager.

Alastor…

The mere sound of his name made you skittish and visibly flustered, and Angel took notice of said reactions very quickly. “You sleepin’ around with him, aren’t ya toots?…” He snickered as you froze up, ears fluttering down as your eyes widened in his direction, “N-no!? Angel…you shouldn’t say things like that!” You puffed your cheeks out, the tip of your ears turning bright red as the spider demon cackled across from you, “Hah! You aren’t denying it either, doll face, so now I know it’s true!..”

“No, it’s not Angel!…” you grumbled childishly, glancing around the room apprehensively as if the overload would emerge from the shadows at any moment, and he very well could…

However, Alastor remained hidden, shadow lingering on an armchair in the dimmest corner of the room, and his attention fully fixed on your exchange with the raunchy spider as it progressed.

The deer demon was intrigued by the interaction, mildly curious about how you’d handle Angels prying, and quietly prideful of his effect on you.

“You can’t fool me toots. I see how you look at ‘em’ when he’s in a room. He breathes, and you’re a mess! It’s actually kinda cute how much you like him!” You glared at Angel, ears standing straight as you seethed at him, “I. Don’t. Like. Him…”

He clicked his tongue, leaning forward with a coy smirk, “Really? So it’s just a coincidence you get all nervous around him but do everything he says without question?… “ Angel was unfazed by the quiet growl you responded with, “That doesn’t mean I fancy him-“

“Okay, so how else would you explain it then?” Angel sat back, arms folding over his chest and torso as he peered at you expectantly.

By this point, Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk were listening to the rift between you two. Although, Husk lost notable interest when he realized the subject of discussion while the others subconsciously chimed in without warning.

“He’s right, though..” Vaggie stared at you intensely, trying to piece together clues you swore weren’t there, to begin with, and Charlie soon joined her in the friendly interrogation. “Did you know Alastor before you came here or something? You do act a little off when he’s around…”

For the love of Satan!

Why couldn’t they just let it go?!?

You huffed and hung your head, agitated with so much attention being thrown onto you and becoming uncomfortable under pressure.

The matter of your soul belonging to Alastor was a subject you weren’t fond of breaching for several reasons.

1. Everyone would want to know why and how the arrangement occurred.

2. You were afraid they’d look at you differently, as less than worthy of being treated as a friend or reduced to being Alastor’s property and nothing else…

In reality, you meant much more to the overload than that, but no sinner needed to know such a thing, and to an extent, you weren't aware of his affection either.

Alastor preferred it that way.

It gave the overlord a vague thrill to leave you clueless about his infatuation while enjoying the way you couldn’t hide your adoration for him…

He chuckled to himself watching you squirm under the group's collective curiosity, admiring the deep rose color that set into your cheeks as you pouted.

Precious little thing…

The stag’s grin grew as the thought settled in his mind, eyes hooding over as a hum filled his chest, and though the sound was quiet, you still heard it.

He was there.

In the same room.

Waiting and watching…

Fantastic…

A small groan fell from your lips as you lifted your head, gaze shifting around the room to pinpoint where Alastor was, but there was no trace of him…

Or so you thought…

“My, my, you all are a nosy bunch! Leave the poor dear alone …” Alastor appeared behind you, mic in one hand while the other came to rest on your head.

He petted your hair softly, silently comforting your frazzled state, and you welcomed the gesture with a soft sigh.

Angel raised a brow at the sight, gaze shifting from your content expression to Alastor’s satisfied one as he caressed your ears. “See, this is what I was talking about. You act as if he owns you or something-“

Alastor whipped his head in Angel's direction, startling him and the others a bit as he interjected the observation. “That’s because I do own her, my good man. Mind. Body. & Soul…” The air grew thick with static, an uneasy wave of tension drowning the hotel lobby as Alastor glared daggers at everyone.

However, you still sat obediently under his touch without anxiety clouding your demeanor.

Charlie laughed nervously while Vaggie’s eyes widened as the revelation dawned on them both. Angel's mouth fell open, and Husk grumbled before rolling his eyes.

“Thought it was obvious…” the winged feline mumbled to no one in particular, refocusing on organizing the bar's alcohol arrangement as the conversation carried on.

“A-Alastor owns your soul?” Charlie asked, clearly shocked but actively masking it with a light-hearted tone. You nod slowly, choosing not to speak as his claws scratch behind your ears tenderly.

Vaggie shrugged, “Now, it makes sense…”

Angel finally clasped his mouth shut, stifling a laugh as he leaned further back into the parlor's sofa. “So I was right!” He shouted triumphantly, which earned a side glare from you. “Oh, shut up! Just because he owns my soul doesn’t mean I like him…”

Alastor gave you a quizzical look, humming thoughtfully as he processed your words, “Is that so, my dear?… You feel nothing for me at all?…”

Oh….maybe I shouldn’t have said that-!

Your mind raced to find a suitable reply, but all you could manage was a shaky laugh. “W-well, I wouldn’t say…’n-nothing’…”

His smile grew, “Would you like to elaborate on your true feelings for me in private, then?…”

“Sounds kinky…” Angels mumbled cheekily while flashing a closed-eye smirk, but neither Alastor nor you offered the remark a response.

“Wait, where’d they go?!..” The spider demon sat up pin straight as he realized you two were no longer in the room. The only sign left of your disappearance was the lingering tufts of black shadows swirling the spot he’d seen you and Alastor occupying a moment ago.

Vaggie rolled her eyes, turning on her heel to return to the task she’d left undone moments ago, “Not my business…” she sighed.

Charlie followed after her, stuck between confusion and giddiness over the newfound information, “I would’ve never thought Y/n belonged to Alastor. Wait, do you think she can still be redeemed, or are there strings attached…?”

Her rambling continued on as everyone found themselves busy again.

Everyone except you and Alastor…

You found yourself all alone with the owner of your soul, hidden in his infamous Radio Tower with the beginnings of a confession poised to slip from your tongue as he sat you in his lap.

“Now, I believe you were going to tell me exactly how you feel, darling….” Alastor lowered his head, hands resting on your waist to keep you flush against his chest, and your heart nearly flew from your chest as he did.

“You have my full attention, sweetheart.”

xxxxx xxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxx xxxxxxx

I rewrote this five times….all because of writer's block :( ❤️ someone please send help -I'm hanging on by a thread rn…

[ NO BONUS CONTENT - ]

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor headcanons #human alastor #alastor hartfelt #hazbin hotel headcanon #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin alastor #hazbin vaggie #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel fandom #hazbin hotel fluff #alastor x you #alastor x oc #alastor x reader #angel dust #charlie morningstar #vaggie #husker hazbin hotel

[oncomingnight]

Yandere! Husband

Barry attended culinary school in Paris, France, earning himself a bachelor's degree in baking and pastry arts. Because of this, he was able to open up his own bakery that gets receives nothing but praise. Thanks to his talented advances, he's able to build an incredibly comfortable and peaceful life with you, his beautiful wife.

After a long day of work, he enjoys quickly putting together your favorite meals and gently guiding you to the table with his hand on your lower back. He'll handfeed fruitful pastries to you as he listens attentively about absolutely anything you're currently feeling passionate about.

He isn't a jealous man, not at all. The only thing he strongly dislikes is when someone is persistent with their attraction to you. From his body language, you can tell that he's extremely confident, but the only person he even thinks of impressing is you. He tries to stop himself from blushing when you gush over the hooked appearance of his nose, the beauty mark on his right cheek, his glossy chestnut hair and heavily lashed downturned eyes.

On the day of your wedding, there was no way he could've prevented himself from full on sobbing as he recited his vows, words depicting feelings of pure devotion. When it was time for your vows, he wiped at his tears, gazed at you lovingly and reached to hold your stray hand as the other held your paper.

That night, his focus was solely on your pleasure. Barry doesn't consider sex toys as an enemy, rather, he takes them as an opportunity to help you reach immense amounts of pleasure.

He takes incredible joy in being able to just take care of you. He'll sit behind you as you're sat between his legs in the bath, gently massaging soap into your skin, wrapping your soaked body with a warm lavender scented robe and carrying you to bed.

Barry enjoys reading broad books on incredibly mind-twisting topics such as: The terrifying art that was made in subject of WWI. He's simply intrigued by several major events in the history of mankind.

He has a knack for listening to old romance songs, many of them in different languages other than english. From everything I've been telling you, it's incredibly easy to tell that he's an immensely romantic man. Reading to you as the both of you lay in bed, slow dancing with you in the living room as old westerns play, hugging you from the back and swaying your bodies together, etc.

Barry will take interest in absolutely anything and everything you seem to enjoy.

He's an amazing husband who will stop at nothing to do what it takes in order to keep you safe and happy.

He meant it when he said, ""till death do us part." His love has no limits.

#yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc x you #yandere x you #yandere oc x y/n #yandere oneshot #yandere headcanons #obsessive yandere #obsessive love #yandere oc #yandere husband #possesive #obsessed #yandere male #soft yandere #yandere x reader #tw yandere #male yandere #oc x yn #oc x reader #oc x character #yandere fantasy #fandom #fantasy #yan x reader #x reader #female reader #fem reader #drabble #headcanon

[cl6teen]

old habits (die hard) ❀ cl16

in which charles charles has a knack for fucking things up, and you have a talent for slowly letting him back in

find part one here.

contains: social media au, ex!charles leclerc x fem!reader, angsty charles and yn living her best life, toxic relationships maybe, mentions of new partners, charles is a confusing man, charles is a jealous asshole

note: i don’t think this is the final part lmao it’s kinda left of a cliff (if u saw me repost no u didn’t)

your phone 📞

charlie

hey

i miss you

a lot

read, 11:23 pm.

charlie

please don’t be like that y/n

i’m serious

you

charles you literally have a girlfriend

charlie

she’s not my girlfriend

you

do you think i’m stupid? like actually

charlie

no

but she really isn’t, we’re just talking

and hanging out i guess

you

oh my god

charlie

love, you know i miss you

you

yes, because finding another girl right after saying you only want to focus on racing sends me such a great message

you’re confusing as hell

charlie

i know, i really messed up.

i shouldn’t have broken up with you in the first place

but the season was getting so intense and i really want this championship, i thought it would be better for us to put it on pause to save us both the trouble

you

so what’s so different about her that makes her an exception?

charles

alex is easy for me

you

so i’m difficult?

charles

that’s not what i mean

you

no it is what you mean

i’m difficult for showing up to your races and being there when you need me

or when i’m there for you when you dnf? or when ferrari fucks up your strategy?

i was willing to stay friends with you after i did all that and you still broke up with me because i had hopes we would make it work and get back together

charlie

i do want to get back together

you

no you don’t

you moved on so quickly like i was nothing

charlie

you also got with someone too

you

because i didn’t want to look like an idiot seeing all the news after telling my friends i had hope

charlie

yeah but posting him in your bed??

you

so you’re just saying all of this because of that guy i posted?

wtf is your deal charles

fuck you

❀ instagram ❀

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, alexalbon, and 70,331others

yourinstagram larger than life (in madrid)

view all comments

lilymhe oh my god

lilymhe you scandalous girl

yourinstagram oops?

landonorris he better watch his hands

yourinstagram he said “fuck off”

landonorris i’ll punch him in his face

carlossainz55 mariposa 🦋

yourinstagram 🥺

user are these two dating???

4zaferrari no they’re just friends, this is someone else

kikagomes sexy sexy pair 💋

yourinstagram you’re sexier bebe

pierregasly get away from my girlfriend

yourinstagram get off my page maybe?

alexalbon show me the man

yourinstagram no you’ll just steal him

user loved watching your vlog the other day

liked by yourinstagram

user seeing yn happy is so great but i can’t be the only one missing her and charles right??

user where are you going next omg!!

yourinstagram no idea!!

lando.jpg updated their story 1 hour ago

seen by yourinstagram, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55 and 1 million others

yourinstagram replied to this story: i did not give permission for you to post this young man!

❀ twitter ❀

your phone 📞

charlie

you put him in your vlog? and you’re still posting him?

are you dating

y/n

are we seriously doing this right now

why are you stalking me

charlie

i’m not stalking you, i just care

fuck just answer the question please

y/n

i’m barely posting him, his face wasn’t in it

and no, we’re just seeing each other right now. yk summer flings i guess

charlie

you know it hurts me to see this y/n, please love

y/n

i don’t care, we’re not together anymore

you texting me is hurting everyone, your “friend” included

charlie

she knows we’re not dating

please just come back to monaco y/n

we can talk face to face

can i call you right now?

you

i’m with carlos and lando

charlie

are you also with that guy

you

yeah

charlie

will you finally tell me who he is?

you

does it really matter?

let’s just talk when i’m back in monaco please

and let me enjoy my vacation in peace

charlie

when are you back?

you

i’ll let you know

charlie

okay

i love you

you

yeah

love you too

❀ instagram ❀

yourinstagram updated their story 10 mins ago

❀ twitter ❀

tags: @1655clean @i-wish-this-was-me @sunny44 @leclercdream

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 smau #f1 x female reader #f1 x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc social media au #f1 x black!reader

[downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le]

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) - A Maze Runner Story

As Brave As You Are (Newt x Reader) Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Word Count: 12,051 Warnings: death, bloody wounds, fighting, mental and physical torture, guns, suicidal thoughts and actions Spoilers: no spoilers because the books and films came out ages ago

After helping Newt recover from his ankle injury, Y/N and Newt formed an unbreakable bond that always had them looking out for each other. When they escaped the Maze, then navigated the Scorch, they always had each other’s back. It isn’t until Y/N is captured alongside Minho by WCKD and Newt contracts the Flare that he realises how he truly feels about Y/N.

Problem is, will he rescue her in time to tell her?

Note: I'm back in my dystopian future era thanks to the new Hunger Games film so of course I had to write for my original YA crush. This piece is based on the movie series mainly. Don't get mad at me, I love the books more, but I can appreciate the storylines that came out of the path they took with the films. And if there is one thing the TMR fandom can agree on, it is that the film cast was the best cast ever for the series. So enjoy - not sorry that it's horrendously long, Newt deserves it xx

‘Medjack! Medjack, now!’

Y/N recognised it was Minho was calling for help. Clint and Jeff ran out of the med hut to see what all the commotion was. It wasn’t long before they were hurrying back inside, carrying Newt of all people between them, Minho and Alby in tow.

‘Clear the table,’ Clint ordered, and Y/N quickly followed through, practically throwing off containers, bowls and medical instruments to get Newt on there as quick as possible. Once Newt was up, Y/N finally noticed the unnatural twist in his ankle and it almost sent Frypan’s sloppy sweet potato soup right back up. 

She was still pretty new to her job as a Medjack, being the greenie and all. She was the only girl in the Glade of the current twelve residents, so she was intimidated at first as to what role she could play in the place. Medjack seemed the most suitable, and she seemed to have a knack for it, having stitched up some eyebrows and cleaned up knee scrapes with ease and precision. 

But even though she’d seen blood, dealt with displaced bones and joints, she still got queasy doing her job. It didn’t help that Newt was hissing through clenched teeth from the intense pain, an occasional sob passing through.

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked.

‘I don’t know,’ Minho said. ‘We split up for only five minutes. I thought we could cover more ground that way. And we’ve run that part of the Maze like a hundred times already. I thought we’d be fine…’

Clint held Newt down as Jeff and Y/N took a look at Newt’s ankle. Jeff only pressed gently with his fingers around the bone, but Newt’s responding howls confirmed the severity of the injury.

‘The bone is completely shattered,’ Jeff said grimly. ‘We’re going to need to reset his foot first though. Y/N?’

‘On it.’ She rushed to a shelf that held bandages, then to a cupboard with flat boards about shin length. She grabbed two of those before heading back to the table.

‘You’re going to have to hold him down,’ Y/N directed at Alby and Minho, gesturing to follow Clint’s efforts. Then she turned to Newt, whose face was slicked with tears and sweat as he continued to writhe in pain. ‘Newt. Newt, can you open your eyes for me? I need you to focus on me.’

To his credit, Newt opened his eyes and he didn’t look away from her. 

‘Good. Good, Newt,’ she said. ‘Now, we have to realign your foot. It’s going to hurt a lot. We’ll go on three, okay?’

In the short time Y/N had known Newt – which arguably was no time at all, as he ran every day and she was in the Medjack hut all day. They didn’t interact unless he or another runner got hurt, or at dinner if only to say hello. Even so, she had come to know he liked it plain and straight, no bullshit. So, despite his pain, he took two deep, calming breaths and gave her a nod to say he was ready for what they had to do.

Y/N nodded back, then looked to the others, who had their hands braced on all Newt’s limbs. ‘Ready?’ she asked, to which they nodded in reply. Y/N gently held Newt’s ankle, eliciting a quiet whimper from the boy. ‘Okay, on three. One, two…’ She cut herself off as she slammed her hands either side the ankle bone, causing a loud cracking sound as the ankle snapped back into place. 

Newt’s wail of pain must’ve been heard from across the whole Glade it was so loud. He writhed and pulled to sit up, but the boys held him down as Y/N and Jeff bandaged the two splints either side of Newt’s ankle. Jeff then dabbed a small dose of chloroform in a cloth and pressed it to Newt’s nose. Soon enough, the boy was unconscious, finally pain-free.

‘You guys go have dinner,’ Y/N said to Clint and Jeff a little while later as they were cleaning up the hut. Alby and Minho had left soon after Newt fell asleep, but it was almost dinner time now. ‘I’ll stay with Newt tonight.’

‘You sure?’ Clint asked. ‘We can do shifts if you’d prefer.’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I insist. You guys rest up. I can do this. Consider this my final test to becoming a fully-fledged Medjack.’

Jeff chuckled. ‘You have much more to learn, Greenie, but suit yourself.’

‘We’ll bring you back some food, Y/N,’ Clint said as he and Jeff left the hut, leaving Y/N to idly clean up.

Newt woke up from a dull throbbing in his ankle, which turned into a harsh pain, causing him to sit up in alarm. 

‘Hey, it’s okay, it’s okay,’ a voice gently said as equally gentle hands pushed him back down.

‘My ankle,’ he said, voice hoarse and dry. ‘It hurts…’

The face of the voice finally came into view: it was the Greenie. Y/N offered him a small smile as he finally recognised her. In one hand, she held a needle with clear serum. Her other she offered to his leg. ‘May I? It’ll help, I promise.’

He hesitated for a moment, but the intense pain in his ankle broke his composure as he eagerly nodded. The painkiller worked immediately, and Newt sighed with relief as the throbbing eased significantly.

’There,’ Y/N said, wiping the needle. ’That should help for a bit. Sadly, we don’t have much left for me to give you more than once a day, but I’m hoping you won’t need it beyond the end of the month.’

Confusion clouded Newt’s mind as he tried to process her words. ‘What… What happened?’ But he answered his own question as images of the Maze flashed through his mind, and he remembered it all. How he bid farewell to Minho. How he climbed as high as he could along the Maze walls. How easy it was to let go. 

Then the pain fully encompassed him, and then it was just a blur. How Minho found him. How Clint and Jeff laid him on the table he realised he was still on. How angry and embarrassed he felt having his friends see him broken and miserable. 

Newt managed to pull himself into a sitting position, propping a pillow behind him to cushion the hut wall. ‘How bad is it?’ he asked glumly, eyes unable to lift from his injury.

He couldn’t be bothered with pleasantries. He was too tired, and, frankly, saw no point in keeping up appearances anymore. 

To her credit, Y/N seemed to pick up on his mood, saying, ‘It will heal to a point you’ll be able to walk again. But it won’t ever heal properly.’

‘You mean I’ll have a limp?’

‘Potentially.’

’So I can’t be a Runner anymore?’ Y/N didn’t reply, finally drawing Newt’s attention away from the source of his pain and to her. 

Newt had only interacted with Y/N on a few occasions. Mainly at mealtimes or the odd occasion he passed her by on the way back from a run, only talking as much as greeting and farewelling one another. As the only girl so far, of course he found her intriguing, but he never had time nor a reason to get to know her.

And while he’d come to think of her as the quiet and gentle Medjack in comparison to Clint and Jeff, he didn’t see an ounce of pity on her face as she looked at him. Only quiet contemplation, as if there could be any other answer but no to his question.

‘I guess that’s up to you and Alby,’ she finally said. ‘I mean, I know what I should say is no. I’m sure Clint and Jeff will say no. But it’ll more so come down to if you want to go back in or not.’ Her eyes flickered to his ankle, sadness glazing her eyes briefly before returning to him. ‘But I think I can take a guess as to what your answer will be.’

Newt’s gut twisted with guilt and shame that she’d figured it out, and his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. ‘So, you going to tell everyone?’ he asked, words thick  with hopelessness. ‘I mean, that’s your job, right? Diagnose me, then tell Alby, then the whole glade how pathetic I am?’

Y/N shook her head. ‘I think you give me too much credit. I’m not an actual doctor, you know,’ she said, coming to stand beside him. She inspected his ankle for a moment, then turned her gaze to him, and it shocked him to see such intensity in her eyes. It was as if suddenly he was the most interesting person in the world.

‘I can say it was a running accident,’ she finally concluded. ‘You can tell your truth when you’re ready. It’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it right now. That includes me.’

He stared, stunned, as she packed up the last of her things by a spare medical cot at the other end of the hut. It wasn’t until she let out a loud yawn that Newt noticed it was dark outside. The silence of the Glade told him everyone else had gone to bed so it was late. Or early, he couldn’t really tell.

Y/N fluffed a sad excuse of a pillow and put it on the cot. ‘Now that I know you’re alive, are you going to be okay if I get a few minutes shut eye? I can stay up if you’d like.’

Now that the initial shock and embarrassment of the day’s events had subsided, Newt realised how exhausted he was still. ‘No, that’s okay,’ he said. ‘I think I should rest a bit more anyway.’

Y/N nodded and swung her legs up to lie down fully. Newt went to slide himself and his pillow back down to do the same when Y/N spoke again.

‘And Newt?’ she said, her voice soft and almost hesitant.

‘Yeah?’ he called back.

She was silent for so long Newt thought she’d gone to sleep. But then she spoke. ‘For the record, I don’t think you’re pathetic. For wanting it all to end, that is. I actually think what you did was really brave. You might be scared and maybe out of hope, but at least you did something about it. The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

Newt’s breath caught in his chest as it swelled with a mix of emotions. Brave? What he did was the act of a coward. Tears streamed silently down his face, both from a deep shame, but also a warmth he hadn’t felt in a long time.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Newt had lost all hope after a year of searching for a way out and finding nothing. But she didn’t know that, and neither will the next Greenie, or the Greenie after that. Even some of the boys already in the Glade didn’t know that. That’s why they waited every day for the runners – for him – to come back with news, with a shred of hope that they’d get out of there soon. 

Newt twisted himself so he could see Y/N, who was rolled away from him, her body rising and falling with the rhythm of sleep. Even if he thought it would all be hopeless in the end, some truly believed they would get out of here.

And maybe that was something worth fighting for.

~

Two years on and Newt and Y/N had managed to forge something akin to a friendship. 

Y/N had kept her word and said Newt had had a running accident, and he’d agreed with her for the sake of his worried friends. Y/N had also been right about his ankle; it healed to point where he could walk and do a decent jog with a limp. But he would never run again. 

He was transferred to work as a Track-Hoe in the gardens with Zart. But it wasn’t all bad. As more boys arrived – never any girls much to their confusion – Newt developed a knack for leading others, for diffusing hard situations, and for wrangling the boys into line. Because of that, he was promoted to Alby’s second-in-command, which gave him more meaningful work to do than just the gardens – stuff that might actually get him and the other Gladers out of the bloody Maze. 

It also meant he had more time to talk to Y/N. He would make sure to drop by once a day (and not just at mealtimes) to check in on her. For a time, he convinced himself he did that because it was his job as second-in-command to keep up group morale, and he would visit everyone in the Glade. Eventually, however, he realised it was because he genuinely enjoyed her company.

Since that night, Y/N had come out of her shell more. Still a little shy and apprehensive at times, but she would openly joke and play along with the boys’ antics. She was more confident in her work as a Medjack too, not afraid to boss Clint and Jeff around if she needed something from them.

Newt’s visits became longer, as they talked about any and all things. Aside from Alby and Minho, Newt considered Y/N one of his closest friends. And she must’ve felt the same – or at least in a similar fashion – as she entertained his thoughts about life beyond the Maze, and the rants he would go on thanks to whichever stupid shank put the fertiliser in the wrong place.

It was a friendship built on mutual respect and genuine care for one another, something that helped Newt convince Y/N to come with him and the others when they finally decided to leave the Maze. But he couldn’t help but feel a deep dread and guilt as he waited behind Thomas, knowing that Grievers were right around the corner.

While the others caught up, Newt turned to Y/N – who’d been helping him through the Maze with his limp – and offered her a spare spear he’d been carrying.

Her eyes widened at his offering. ‘I can’t take that. I can’t fight.’

‘Well, you can’t just go in there without something to protect yourself,’ he said, this time forcibly handing the spear over. Y/N clutched the spear awkwardly, and Newt saw the uncertainty in her eyes, in her trembling hands.

Newt felt bad for making her hold such a violent weapon. All her hands had ever done were help people, save them at times. Now he was asking her to kill. It was for the greater good they both knew, but to kill, nonetheless.

Newt placed a comforting hand on her shoulder and locked eyes with her. ‘Hey,’ he said softly, ‘you stay with me the whole time, do you understand? I promise you won’t have to use that unless absolute necessary.’

Y/N bit her lip to stop it trembling too, but she nodded, steeling herself in preparation for the fight ahead. Newt reciprocated the action and gave her shoulder a final squeeze before turning to face Thomas as he explained the plan.

They fought the Grievers, taking down a few while some of them took down Gladers. The Gladers were backed against the door that Teresa and Chuck were trying to open with a code. Minho shouted numbers at them as he, Newt, and the others fended off one last Griever.

Before he could finish, Minho was caught by a Griever, and Clint ran out to save him. But the Griever’s tail caught him, sending him over the edge of the walkway they fought on with one flick.

‘Clint!’

Before Newt could stop her, Y/N rushed out from behind him, spear drawn back and flying at the Griever in seconds. Not being a fighter to begin with, let alone a good one, the spear bounced off its metal leg without much effect. It did, however, alert the Griever to her presence, turning all its attention to her. Minho leapt to his feet, finally free, and ran back to the group. ‘Y/N!’ he cried as he ran. ‘Run!’

Y/N seemed to finally realise her situation, looking up at the Griever frozen with fear. The horrible creature raised its claw to end her, but Newt moved faster. 

He ran as fast as he could, limp be damned, past Y/N and threw his spear at the Griever’s head. It landed true, puncturing one of the creature’s bulbous eyes, drawing a painful screech from it. Newt didn’t wait to see what it would do next, as he grabbed one of Y/N’s arms and Minho grabbed the other and ran back to the group, practically throwing her behind the front line and against the door. 

Teresa finally got the door open and the Gladers tumbled in, Thomas throwing one last spear down the Griever’s throat as the doors closed. 

Lights flickered on to show they were in some empty room with a door on the wall behind them leading to a corridor.

Thomas looked at the group, taking heavy breaths. ‘Everyone okay?’

‘What’s left of us, that is,’ Winston said, his tone sad and regretful. 

As Newt eyed the group, he noted how many they’d lost, how little their group seemed all of a sudden. 

Minho stepped ahead with Thomas, pointing towards the door. ‘Well? It’s not going to open itself.’

As Minho and Thomas led the group to the exit, Newt turned to Y/N, whose eyes had a distant look glazed over them. ‘What were you thinking?’ he asked, bringing her attention to him. ‘I told you to stay behind me. You could’ve been killed.’

‘I-I know. I’m sorry,’ she stuttered out, tears teetering in her E/C eyes. ‘I just… Clint… It all happened so fast, and I was just kind of moving before I knew what I was doing.’ She looked down at her hands then, and Newt noticed a slight tremble to them. ‘I thought I could help, but I was too slow. And I put you guys in danger too. I’m just… I’m sorry.’

Newt’s guilt came back full force then. He placed a gentle hand over her trembling one, grasping her fingers to stop their shaking. When she looked up at him confused, he just said, ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into thinking you had to fight. You won’t ever hold a weapon like that again. I promise.’

Y/N opened her mouth to object no doubt, but Newt cut her off. ‘But you have to promise me something back. Promise me that you’ll let us protect you. You can help by keeping us alive, just like you always have. But you’ve got to listen to me, you got it?’

He used his authoritative voice this time, and it seemed to work as Y/N calmed down, her unshed tears now gone.

‘Okay,’ she said, quiet but strong. ‘I promise.’

Newt nodded. ‘Good that.’ He turned to see the others leaving through the door then turned back to Y/N. ’Do you think we’d be lucky enough not to face anything else beyond those doors.’

‘I think we should consider ourselves lucky for getting this far.’ To her credit, Y/N managed a small smile as she looked up at him. ‘But why should our luck run out now?’

There it was again; the glimmer of hope Newt had felt from her since the night he injured his ankle. Newt couldn’t deny that they’d made it this far – by design or by luck, they’d made it. 

And who was he to deny that things might be on the look up for them now?

Together, Y/N and Newt followed the rest of the Gladers to meet their makers.

~

‘I never thought I’d say this… but I miss the Glade.’

The group around the fire grew silent at the implication Frypan’s words had, the memories they conjured up. Y/N couldn’t help but agree as she looked into the dark sky above her, peaking from behind the crumbling pillars they took refuge under. 

The sky was always so clear back in the Glade, she recalled silently. But, just like their current situation, the sky was now obscured. 

The people who rescued them from the Maze were actually WCKD – the people who’d put them in the Maze in the first place. The past twelve hours had seen herself, Newt, Thomas, Minho, Frypan, Winston, and a boy named Aris find Teresa, break out of the facility, and enter the deadly Scorch. In their search for supplies, they’d been attacked by crazed, infected people, driving the group to hide where they were.

The Maze was dangerous, but it was familiar and the only home Y/N recalled ever having. Out in the Scorch, safety wasn’t guaranteed. 

She looked to Winston, who laid back, his shirt pulled up to expose the bloody bandage she’d wrapped his torso in. Y/N tried not to think about the infected scratch marks underneath, and more specifically what gave them to him. The Grievers were one thing, but the things that attacked them? They used to be people.

Not wanting to sit in her thoughts anymore, Y/N stood up, brushed off her pants, and grabbed knife from their pile of weapons they’d found in the abandoned mall. ‘I’ll take first watch.’ 

She didn’t wait to hear if anyone objected, already walking around the stone that covered them so she was on top. To her relief, the others let her go without argument, putting out the fire and quickly settling down to sleep.

After half an hour, Y/N decided to get up and patrol around the area, knife tightly gripped in her hand and her footsteps quiet despite the sand. 

There was so much of it,  the sand. The lady in white – Doctor Ava Paige – had said in her video that the whole world was just desert now. The thought made Y/N yearn for the Glade even more. For the grass, and the woods, and the bonfires they used to have, and the games they played. The boys – Clint, Jeff, Alby, Gally, Chuck. 

Y/N wasn’t a hateful person, but she clutched the knife tighter at the thought of all the loss they’d all suffered at the hands of WCKD. 

It’s why she didn’t hesitate to follow Newt when he’d found her in her room – for some reason, she hadn’t been allowed to stay with the other girls from the other mazes just yet. It’s why they were now braving the Scorch searching for people that Thomas didn’t know even existed. They wanted a better life out from under WCKD’s thumb.

The crunch of sand had her whirling around, awkwardly poising the knife as if to attack, but she relaxed at the familiar person standing there.

Newt raised his hands in mock surrender. ‘Whoa there,’ he said, the quirk of a smile on his lips telling her he was just joking. ‘You could do some real damage if you’re not careful.’

Y/N blew out in relief, the knife dropping to her side again. ‘Thanks, but we both know that’s not the case, Newt.’

Newt shoved his hands in his jacket pocket, shrugging his shoulders as he did. ‘I don’t know, I’ve seen you with a scalpel. Absolutely terrifyingly precise with that thing.’

Y/N chuckled softly, appreciative of the distraction. But her smile dropped as she looked out into the dark cityscape. The moon hid behind clouds so Y/N couldn’t make out anything. ‘Is it pathetic that I’m scared to see what the world has become?’ she asked, not daring to raise her voice above a soft mumble.

Newt stepped up beside her, his body radiating the last remnants of heat from the fire and it warmed her slightly. ’Someone once told me that I was brave for facing my fear,’ he said after some quiet contemplation. 

Y/N looked up at him confused, but he looked down at her with a knowing, smug smile. Much to her chagrin, she couldn’t help but chuckle and shake her head at him. ‘I don’t recall saying that specifically. But if that’s how you saw it, who am I to tell you that wasn’t what I meant?’

Newt hummed in agreement looking back out at the dark expanse, contemplation scrunching his brows together. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I’m scared too.’

That surprised Y/N. Newt, second-in-command, casual, leader Newt was scared? ‘You are?’

Newt nodded. ‘I’m scared that we’ve made a mistake. That Thomas is wrong and there aren’t any mountain people.’ He turned back to Y/N, the most serious she’d ever seen him. ‘I’m scared we’re going to lose more of us, and then what was our escape for? But… it’s not my place to take away hope when the others are so full of it. Including myself.’ Finally, Newt’s smile returned, and it warmed that cold pit of despair Y/N had been falling into ever since they left the WCKD facility. ‘Or, at least, I think that’s what someone very wise once told me.’

Y/N stared at him, awestruck. Hopeful. Newt was hopeful again. And she didn’t want to read into it, but she thought the knowing smile he was giving her told her that she had something to do with it. The thought alone strengthened her resolve, and she looked down at the knife in her hands, less afraid of it all of a sudden.

Y/N held it out to Newt. ’Teach me.’

He raised an eyebrow in a silent question. ‘What?’

’Teach me. How to fight,’ Y/N explained, eyes unwavering from his. 

Concern flashed across Newt’s face for a brief moment. ‘Y/N, I told you, you don’t have to fight if you don’t want to.’

‘If there is one thing I’ve come to know about WCKD is that it doesn’t actually matter what I want anymore. What any of us want,’ Y/N said, feeling the most certain she’s felt in a long time. ‘The one thing we have on WCKD is that we are defiant. We escaped, and are taking away the one thing they want most of all: a chance to find a cure. So, if we’re going to have any hopes of making it to the mountains alive, I’m going to have to know how to fight. So please – teach me.’

Newt contemplated her for a moment, and Y/N just prayed he wouldn’t say no. Or even worse, laugh. Instead of doing either, he took the knife from Y/N’s hand, his fingers brushing across her palm as he did. 

‘All right,’ he said, moving his feet apart to get into a fighting stance. ‘First of all, you’ve got to have a wide-ish stance, and stay light on your toes so you can control when you back away from your opponent.’ 

He demonstrated the movement by quickly shuffling away, always keeping his feet a certain distance apart and the knife gripped tight by his hip. ‘…and when you go into attack.’ He moved so fast Y/N didn’t see his footwork, her eyes locked on his as they bored into hers, knife poised at her neck as if he’d strike.

He stepped away and gave her the knife back. ‘You think you can do that?’

Y/N nodded and took the knife, and for the next hour Newt taught Y/N basic blocks and manoeuvres that he’d picked up from Thomas and Minho and just from basic instinct. Just like she’d been with her Medjack skills, Y/N was a quick study, performing move after move when Newt asked her to. 

She impressed herself. For a natural pacifist, she wielded the knife quite fluently.

They decided to finish the session on a quick sparring match. Newt took a swipe at Y/N, and she stepped back just like Newt had taught her. She then rushed in for an attack, to which Newt threw up his own knife in time to block. Y/N anticipated the pushback and twisted out of Newt’s way as he stumbled slightly forward. While he was disorientated, Y/N gripped his wrist that controlled his knife and pointed her own into his back. 

‘Looks like I win,’ she said, breathless but proud.

Y/N didn’t like the carefree scoff he gave her, followed by, ‘Are you sure?’

She doubted herself for a moment, loosening her grip enough for him to twist out of her reach, knock her knife away and bend to sweep her legs out from underneath her. Y/N landed hard, groaning at the pain in her butt as Newt looked down at her and laughed. 

‘I’m glad you find my pain amusing, Newt,’ she grumbled, rubbing her sore behind.

Newt laughed for a moment longer then calmed down. But his radiant smile remained on his face, brightening the darkness surrounding them. ‘I’m sorry, love,’ he said between remaining chuckles. To his credit, he held out his hand in an offer to help her up. ’But the surprise on your face was priceless.’

Y/N contemplated his hand for a moment, whether she should just push it away or take it. Instead, an idea came to mind, and she gripped his hand tightly then pulled him to the ground with her. He landed on his stomach beside her, getting a face full of sand.

Y/N let out a loud laugh before quickly covering her mouth to stifle the relentless laughter that wished to burst from her. 

Newt spat and coughed out sand as he made to sit up. ‘Well,’ he started, spitting out more sand as he looked up at Y/N, ‘I should’ve seen that coming.’

That just made Y/N laugh even harder, using now both hands to quieten the giggles. Goodness, when was the last time she’d laughed this freely? When was the last time she’d felt such joy? After everything they’d been through, Y/N was worried she’d forgotten what was like to laugh.

When she’d calmed down, she looked down to see Newt propped up on his arms looking up at her with an odd expression on his face. Like he was in awe, maybe. Whatever it was, it made Y/N acknowledge how handsome Newt had become. His baby features had faded since she’d first met him, being replaced by a lean figure and a toned jawline from working in the gardens every day for two years. And with his big brown eyes, tousled blond hair and funny accent, Y/N wondered how he had changed so much without her realising it. How she hadn’t realised he’d grown up.

The intensity with which he looked at her brought a heated blush to her face, and so she turned away into the cool night breeze, willing the blush to cool down. Newt shuffled to sit up next to her. They didn’t speak for a minute, until Newt suddenly stood up. 

‘Well, um,’ he started, and for the first time since Y/N had known him, he sounded uncertain about what to say. ‘I better let you continue with your shift. At least you know how to defend yourself now.’

Y/N hastily stood up as well, making sure there was at least a step between them. ‘Yes!’ she said. ‘Thank you for that. I’ll be sure to practice.’

‘Good that.’ 

They looked at each other for a moment, and even though Newt said he was leaving, he made no move to leave. Maybe he doesn’t want to, she thought, and the mere possibility of that being true warmed her heart.

But he took a step away, gave her a shy smile and a small wave farewell. ‘Goodnight, Y/N.’

‘Goodnight Newt,’ she said, those two words hanging in the air long after he’d left.

As she finally woke Frypan up for his shift, she clung to the knife and went through all the manoeuvres Newt had taught her until she fell asleep. 

Newt was unable to sleep until Y/N woke Frypan up to take the next watch shift, and laid down to sleep herself. Newt opened his eyes to see Y/N laying across the pit they’d dug out for the fire. She faced him on her side, and Newt noticed with curiosity that she held the knife she’d practiced with close to her chest. Her chest rose and fell rhythmically, and paired with her heavy breathing, Newt figured she was completely asleep. 

An odd sensation fluttered in his chest and stomach as Newt considered Y/N’s sleeping face. It was the same feeling that had fizzled in his chest when he’d looked up at her as she laughed. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had laughed as freely as she had. 

And he couldn’t help but admire how beautiful she looked doing so – hiding her bright smile behind trembling hands, eyes narrowed but sparkling with joy. 

All because of him.

He rolled onto his back then, not wanting to give the thought anymore weight. There’s no point getting your hopes up, he reminded himself. But like a moth drawn to flame, Newt couldn’t help but tilt his head to gaze upon her peacefully sleeping. An ache carved itself deep in his heart. How had he not realised her growing up, changing? Being the only girl for a long time, of course he and the others found her pretty. But now that he looked at her – really looked at her, and wasn’t concerned with his life for just a split second – he realised just how beautiful she was. 

It was in her features, but also in her determination to be better for the group. It both hurt and impressed him when she asked for his help. He promised her she would never have to fight again, but things have changed drastically since the Maze.

It was in her ability to still find the joy in things, to still be able to laugh despite their situation.

It was how she believed in Thomas, in Aris, in the mountain people, even if she was scared. 

‘The rest of us can only wish to be as brave as you,’ he whispered into the night, a silent promise that he’d tell her that sometime. 

And with the fluttering in his chest finally easing into a calm warmth, he finally fell asleep.

~

Everything exploded with chaos as Y/N, Newt, Thomas, and Minho navigated their way through the Right Arm camp as guns fired and explosions went off. 

Teresa had betrayed them. Y/N couldn’t believe it when it was revealed in front of everyone, and she still couldn’t believe it as Minho pushed her head down, sheltering her from another explosion. Teresa truly believed WCKD could find a cure, but still at the expanse of Y/N and her friends’ pain. And just when Thomas was going to blow them all sky high, Jorge and Brenda had come in like a saving grace, and that’s when all hell broke loose.

‘This way!’ Thomas yelled over the din, beckoning them behind a weapons container.

However, Minho stopped suddenly and picked up a launcher. Keep going!’ Minho called over his shoulder as he shot at WCKD soldiers around him. ‘I’m right behind you!’

Thomas and Newt reached the container, but Y/N stopped and turned at the sound of a painful cry. ‘Minho!’ she cried as her friend fell, his body convulsing from a launcher shot. 

‘Y/N, no!’ Newt called after her, but she was already running back to Minho, grabbing at his jacket to drag him to safety. 

But Y/N was not strong like the boys, and certainly not strong enough to move Minho in any hurry. She looked up just in time to see a launcher fire at her, then her body felt like it was on fire. 

She was sure she was screaming, but she couldn’t hear anything as the electricity struck every nerve with a vicious bite. After what felt like an eternity of pain, she was granted a moment of peace as her vision went white, then in a flash was swamped by darkness.

Newt’s heart stopped when he saw Y/N shot. She convulsed as Minho had, then collapsed beside their friend unconscious. The second Y/N hit the ground, Newt found his voice again, feelings of anger and desperation clawing their way through every vein in him.

‘Y/N, no!’ His cry came out broken as he made to run to her, but a strong hand gripped the back of his jacket and pulled him back. 

‘No, boys,’ Vince shouted over the din, holding both Newt and Thomas back. 

‘Let me go!’ Newt protested, struggling against Vince, eyes darting between him and Y/N. ‘I need to help her! Y/N!’

But WCKD soldiers were already picking up Y/N and Minho’s unconscious bodies, dragging their feet through the red dirt and into a berg.

‘I’m sorry, son,’ Vince said, and Newt thought he sounded genuine. But that didn’t stop icy terror gripping tight on his heart as the doors began to close on Y/N, Minho, and other immunes from the Right Arm.

Thomas called for Minho, and Newt called for Y/N, but neither could do anything to help their friends as they were flown away. Back in WCKD’s clutches once again.

When the sun rose, the remaining survivors came out of hiding and began scrounging up supplies. They were moving on, Vince claiming there was nothing they could do but keep going with who and what they had left.

Newt couldn’t accept that, and neither could Thomas apparently, as he claimed he was going after Minho, Y/N and the others. Without hesitation or any further explanation, Newt was the first to sign up and join him.

And so, they went on a quest to rescuing Minho, Y/N, and as many immunes as possible. The train hijack was a huge success with immune numbers, but no Minho and no Y/N. Even so, Newt refused to accept that he’d never see either of them again. Even when they almost got killed by cranks. Even when he, Thomas, Brenda, Frypan, and Jorge were almost blown up by turret guns.

Even when he found out he was infected with the Flare.

He could feel it, his mind slowly slipping away as the Flare ate away at his sanity. He was usually level-headed and rational – it’s part of the reason he became second-in-command in the first place. Guilt and shame ate away at him as he sat on the rooftop of their hideout in the outskirts of the Last City, explaining to Thomas why he just bit his head off about being in love with Teresa.

Not that I’m one to talk, he thought as he rolled down as his sleeve, silence wrapping around him and Thomas comfortably. Newt could feel Thomas didn’t know what to say, and Newt didn’t like long silences so he broke it.

‘The crazy thing, though is…’ Newt started, a soft but sad scoff escaping him, ‘I’m not scared of dying. I used to be, back in the Maze. Because it felt like my friends were dying for no reason, without purpose. But…’ Newt looked over his shoulder, past Thomas, and to the peaking spires of the Last City. To where Y/N was being held somewhere.

‘I have something to die for now,’ Newt said, eyes never wavering from the spires.

Thomas came to sit beside Newt, a sad realisation drawing his brows and lips down. ‘You’re not just talking about Minho, are you?’ he asked.

It was how gentle and matter-of-fact Thomas spoke that had Newt’s chest tightening with fear and an immense pressure he’d been scared, until now, to acknowledge. His throat threatened to close on him as he spoke, rendering his words tight and uncontrolled. ‘I failed to protect her, Tommy,’ he managed to get out. ‘I promised I’d always protect her, and I didn’t.’ 

It surprised Newt how simultaneously hard and easy it was to speak about his feelings, and now that he had started, the words just flowed. 

’She’s just always been there, so I never saw it coming,’ Newt continued, a melancholic smile adorning his lips as he recalls the day he met you, how you helped him with his ankle. How, since then, you’ve always been by his side, growing with him, changing with him, supporting him and everyone else around you. 

’Saw what?’ Thomas asked.

‘I never saw that I could have a future after the Maze, after all of this,’ Newt explained. ‘That I would want a future… with Y/N.’ And with that, his tears finally spilled over, the pressure in his chest bursting into sobs that wracked his whole body. Newt was vaguely aware that Thomas was now holding him, and so he wrapped his arms tight around his friend, around his brother.

‘I love her, Tommy,’ Newt whispered over Thomas’ shoulder, his words obscured somewhat by his tears and holding back sobs. ‘And I’m scared I’ll never be able to tell her before I go.’

‘Hey,’ Thomas said, pushing Newt to arm’s length. He kept one hand on Newt’s shoulder and used his other to grip Newt’s neck, forcing their eyes to lock. ‘We’re going to find her – and Minho, and the other immunes. We’re going to get you that serum that helps with the Flare – as much of it as possible – and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. No one is dying. You hear me?’

No one could replace Alby, but the way Thomas was taking control of the situation reminded Newt of his old friend. How kind yet stern he could be. How hopeful yet pragmatic he was. It was something familiar that Newt was thankful for. He quickly calmed down, wiped away his tears and nodded at Thomas.

‘Good that,’ Thomas said, a small proud smile gracing his lips at his use of Newt’s common phrase. 

Newt couldn’t help a chuckle as well. ‘Good that, indeed,’ he agreed, and followed Thomas back inside the hideout to finalise their plan to get into the WCKD facility.

…and you’re going to tell her. You’re not dying. 

There was a nagging voice in the back of Newt’s head that was telling him not to believe Thomas. That Newt was going to die, or worse, turn into a crank and hurt his loved ones. That voice had followed him from the Maze, to the Scorch, and now the Last City. It was the voice that had driven him over the edge of the Maze walls all those years ago. But not anymore.

Newt had to keep hope, just as Y/N had taught him. He just had to be brave.

~

Y/N sat in the corner of her white-walled cell, hugging her knees to her chest as she rested her head on top. She’d sat there for hours, perhaps days. Y/N lost track of time after her first month in WCKD’s facility. 

There were no windows, and the lights never dimmed. She pressed her eyes into her knees in the hopes of downing out the incessant white light. Her eyes ached with sleep deprivation, but she refused to sleep. The nightmares were much worse to deal with, and they always came whenever she closed her eyes.

Images of her friends dying in the Maze and the Scorch, of Grievers chasing her, of her friends turning into cranks and attacking her. Images fed to her by WCKD. 

She knew they weren’t real, but she could never wake herself up in time to escape them. So, she stayed awake, knowing that she’ll have no choice but to face her nightmares when the doctors and scientists come to test on her again.

Y/N shivered at the thought of seeing another needle, of seeing her blood drained from her while WCKD turned her mind against her. When will it be enough? She might’ve lost track of time, but Y/N knew she’d been in the facility for a while now. If they hadn’t found anything by now, something told Y/N that nothing she gave would ever be enough. That included her life.

She knew Thomas and Newt would be dumb enough to come after her and Minho – that’s just the kind of people they were. Her heart ached at the thought that their efforts would be in vain. 

Y/N hadn’t seen Minho since they arrived, having been separated from each other and the other immunes. Something about how they were the most promising subjects, she overheard from a scientist one time. Y/N didn’t know if Minho was alive, and if he was, what condition he was in. 

But Minho was strong, the strongest of all the Gladers in Y/N’s opinion. If he was being tortured like her, he would be able to hold on. Y/N highly doubted she would last much longer.

The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you…

Y/N wasn’t sure if Newt knew she was actually awake that first night in the Scorch, but she’d heard him, his words so soft she thought she’d dreamt it at first. But it had been real; Newt thought she was brave.

She was too dehydrated to produce tears, but an ugly sob desperately tried to escape her aching chest. She bit her lips instead, hard enough to draw a little blood, and the sob died out, leaving her body quiet except for her mind.

I’m sorry Newt, but I am not brave.

Even so, Y/N refused to crumble to WCKD anymore. They’d taken everything from her. Her life, her memories, her loved ones, her friends. Even her hope – something she so naively believed no one could take from her. They would not take her dignity.

She raised her head at the sound of her cell door unlocking, blinking a few times as bright light flooded her vision once more. Two WCKD soldiers and two scientists stood by the door, and Y/N spied a gurney just behind them. 

One of the scientists – young male, maybe in his early twenties – stepped forward. ‘Time for more testing, Y/N,’ he said in a cold tone. But he had the sense to look sympathetic as his eyes roamed over Y/N as she stood up, showing how pale her S/C skin had become, how dark the circles beneath her eyes were, how the cargo pants and grey t-shirt hung off her in areas where she used to fill.

Y/N knew it was useless, but still she ran for the door, pushing past the scientists with ease despite her weakened state. However, she hit the soldiers like a brick wall, unable to fight against them as they restrained her arms and pressed her against the wall. The male scientist recovered quickly and injected her with a serum that made her drowsy enough that she wasn’t in control of her body. She was conscious as the soldiers strapped her to the gurney and the four of them wheeled her down corridor after corridor, and all she could do was watch fluorescent lights pass her by as she stared at the ceiling. 

Soon enough, she was in a familiar room: the test lab. 

‘It hasn’t been that long since we last tested her,’ the other scientist – a female, about the same age as her co-worker – said, her words laced with worry. ‘We put her under again, we risk losing her for good this time.’

‘I didn’t make the call,’ the male said as he continued to set up equipment around Y/N. ‘When Janson says he wants a cure, I don’t question him. Do you?’

The female didn’t answer, switching her focus to helping her co-worker. Y/N could slowly feel the serum wearing off – it was obviously only a light dose, the scientists knowing they’d put her under when they began testing. 

But just as they unstrapped her to move her to the nightmare simulator, the room shook, sending Y/N rolling to the ground as glass and steel broke around her. 

Sounds were muffled briefly and her vision blurred in and out of focus. She couldn’t hear what exactly the soldiers were shouting, but she saw them run out of the room alongside other soldiers. That just left her and the scientists. 

Y/N flexed her fingers, the serum completely wearing off. Before she could stand though, two hands roughly grabbed her arms and hauled her to her feet. ‘Come on, Y/N,’ the male scientist said, pushing her towards the machine. ‘Just one more trip under…’

Fear electrified Y/N’s every nerve. No, not again. With a desperate cry, she shoved the male into the utensils table, sending him and the tools scattering across the ground. Before he could get up, Y/N straddled his upper body and slammed his arms into the ground.

‘Get off me!’ he yelled, struggling violently beneath Y/N. He managed to twist them both around until she was the one pinned to the ground. Y/N struggled but to no avail. She was significantly weaker than she was when she was first captured and he knew that.

‘You little brat,’ he spat in her face. ‘Ungrateful, selfish immunes. Your duty is to save us all! You–’

He was cut off when he suddenly went slack, falling unconscious on top of Y/N. She scrambled out from underneath him, then looked up from the floor to find the female scientist with a syringe in her hand. She looked between her unconscious co-worker then Y/N, a scared and disbelieving expression morphing her delicate features. 

‘Go,’ the scientist finally said, her voice shaky, but the resolve in her eyes told Y/N that she wouldn’t chase after her. The room – no, the whole building – shook again, and when Y/N looked out the window, she realised why.

The city outside was on fire. Buildings crumbled, and Y/n could hear the screams and cries of civilians through the broken windows. The scientist wouldn’t chase her because there was no point. 

This was the end.

‘Go!’ The scientist insisted, and Y/N didn’t think twice. She picked herself up, ignoring the cuts and scraps of glass it caused her, and ran out of the room.

She ran into the corridor, ignoring the cries of soldiers and other scientists who recognised her as a subject. She didn’t know where she was going, but this was the most freedom she’d had in forever.

Then a thought came to her – Minho. She had to find him, he surely had to be alive. She would run through every floor if she had to to find him. So she ran, looking into every test lab, every storage closest, every break room on the floor. 

‘Minho!’ she cried, uncaring at this point if someone heard her. She just wanted to find him. She didn’t want to die without a familiar face with her. ‘Minho, where are you?’

She rounded a corner, right into the chest of a WCKD soldier. He was caught by surprise, giving Y/N an opportunity to slam him into the wall. It was like her fear was giving her a boost of strength, as she kneed him in the groin, sending him to the ground. He dropped the pistol he was holding, and she quickly picked it up and smacked the butt over the back of his head. He fell to the floor in one last scuffle and laid unmoving as Y/N sucked in deep breaths.

‘Y/N?’

She whirled around at the familiar call of her name, only to find three other people had entered the corridor. Thomas, Minho, and Newt. Her eyes scanned over them all, heart aching with an intense relief it threatened to crush her chest. ‘Guys?’ Her voice was hoarse with disuse and exhaustion. She was surprised she even had a voice after all her screaming.

Newt stepped forward, a relieved smile gracing his lips. ‘Yeah, love,’ he said, sounding on the verge of tears. ‘It’s us.’

Y/N’s first instinct was to run into his arms, the only place she’d felt since leaving the Maze. But she took a closer look at him. He was paler than when she last saw him, almost sickly with how dark the circles under his eyes were. Crank.

She pointed the pistol at her friends, causing them to raise their hands in shock. ‘Whoa, Y/N, it’s us!’ Thomas exclaimed.

‘No,’ she said, her voice cracking ever so slightly. ‘How do I know I’m not in that simulator again? How do I know this isn’t just another test, another trial?’

‘What are you talking about, Y/N?’ Newt asked, worry crinkling his brow. 

’She doesn’t trust her mind,’ Minho said, as if in explanation. ‘Boy, they really did a number on her…’

‘Shut up!’ Y/N unlocked the safety and pointed the gun at Minho. ‘You’re just trying to trick me. Make me think everything is all right. But it’s just a lie. You’re not here. You’re not here…’

Newt stepped into the firing line. ‘We are here, love. I promise, we’re really here.’

‘Newt…’ Thomas warned, but Newt remained, eyes locked on Y/N’s.

Y/N couldn’t look away from Newt. He sounded so genuine, so much more real than previous simulations. But WCKD couldn’t be trusted, and they were wearing soldier uniforms…

Her hands shook but her voice was strong. ‘Prove it,’ she said. ’Tell me something only the real Newt would know.’

Newt swallowed thickly. ‘Okay, um… You cut yourself when you tried out being a Slicer and had to have Clint and Jeff fix you up. That’s when you thought being a Medjack would be a good idea.’

‘WCKD was watching us the whole time. They would’ve seen that,’ she countered, using both hands to grip the gun. 

‘Okay, okay,’ Newt said, looking away a moment to think of something else. When he finally looked back at her, he was calm once more, eyes genuine and sincere. ‘How about how I jumped off the walls of the Maze in an attempt to kill myself?’

The world around the four of them seemed to freeze, as if the world wasn’t collapsing outside. To Y/N’s knowledge, Newt had never told anyone the truth of what happened that day. It was the shocked and tragic expressions on both Minho and Thomas’ faces respectively that had Y/N loosening her grip on the gun slightly.

Newt took a small step closer, eyes never straying from her. ‘I had lost all hope of getting out of that bloody maze. So I did the one thing I could do to control the situation. But I failed.’ He stepped closer again. ‘I was embarrassed, ashamed. I was just a coward. But you healed me and told me something I will never forget. I have held onto it like a lifeline through the Maze, through the Scorch, and all the time I was looking for you.’

He took one final step towards her, unfazed at how the gun pressed hard against his chest. Now that he was so close, Y/N saw just how sick he was. He looked like the early stage victims of the Flare they’d seen in the decrepit city they’d lost Brenda and Thomas in temporarily. And while Y/N refused to believe Newt – her beloved, sweet Newt – was infected, his eyes were the same as always. Open, honest, and truthful.

‘The rest of us can only hope to be as brave as you.’

It wasn’t the fact that he knew the exact words – again, WCKD had cameras everywhere in that Maze, they would’ve heard it. It was instead the emotion tied to the words. She felt them, felt the lifeline they’d created for him in his darkest moment. He wasn’t lying, and that meant he was real.

Finally, she allowed the sob to break free as she dropped the gun and threw her arms around Newt’s neck. He breathed out in relief, bringing her closer to his chest, face pressed into her H/C hair.

‘It’s really you,’ she whimpered, grasping tighter to the person she’s always been able to rely on. The person who has always protected her and brought out the best in her. Her closest friend, her safety net, her home. 

‘It is, love,’ he said into her hair, breathing her in deeply. ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you before.’

‘It’s okay,’ she said, pulling away to look up at him then to the other two. ‘I can’t believe you came after us.’

‘I know right,’ Minho said, punching Thomas’ arm lightly. ‘Dumb shanks.’

‘You can berate us later,’ Thomas said, rubbing his arm. ‘Right now, we’ve got to get out of here before Lawrence brings down the whole city.’

Y/N went to ask what he meant but gripped onto Newt instead as the building shook again.

‘Come on, let’s go,’ Newt said, grabbing Y/N’s hand with one hand, and holding a launcher in the other. Together, the four of them ran to escape WCKD once and for all.

~

‘Brenda!’

Y/N didn’t care about the rain of bullets and walls of fire around her as she ran for the berg. After hearing Teresa’s broadcast, she needed to get the cure back to Newt fast. Leaving him was one of the hardest things she has had to do. He wasn’t in great condition, but Thomas insisted that he’d take care of Newt. But the medicine Thomas had given Brenda all those months ago didn’t just buy her time, it had cured her completely. It could do the same for Newt.

If she could make it in time.

‘Brenda!’ Y/N cried as she spotted her friend. ‘The cure! I need the cure!’

Brenda understood, immediately retrieving one of the extra capsules Mary had made from Thomas’ blood before WCKD raided the camp. ‘Here,’ she said, passing over the injector. 

‘Thanks!’ Y/N said, already sprinting back into the war zone before anyone could stop her. 

She could feel it, the exhaustion, the strain she was putting her body under. Underfed and under trained, she was struggling. But she refused to stop. Newt had come all this way to find her, risked his life to get her out of WCKD’s clutches when he could’ve been administered the temporary cure and been safe on the berg already. No, Y/N refused to let him die without trying.

Minho, Brenda, Frypan, and Gally – Y/N was still shocked about that revelation, but that was for another time to discuss - followed around her, covering her with guns and other weapons as they ran through the war zone.

After an eternity of running, the group rounded a corner to find a sight that made Y/N feel like she was back in the nightmare simulator. Newt was leaning over Thomas with a knife aimed at his chest.

‘Newt, no!’ Y/N cried, running towards the two boys without thought. 

Newt faced her at the call of his name, and she froze as she saw his black eyes. Dark veins branched over his skin and black blood dribbled from his chin. He was a full-blown crank now. 

He raced at her, snarling as he swung the knife at her throat. She ducked just in time and rolled away as he slammed the knife down where her neck was. She quickly jumped to her feet, and despite her fatigue, muscle memory took over her legs, then her hands. That first night in the Scorch came to mind, how her and Newt sparred. The injector was her knife, and Newt her proper opponent.

‘Newt, it’s me,’ she said, slipping into her Medjack demeanour – calm and steady. ‘It’s Y/N. Please, snap out of it for a moment so I can help you.’

She thought he would run at her again, but his brows crinkled with concern and he looked at the knife in his shaky hands. He looked back at her, and the voice he spoke with broke her heart. It was a mixture of his sweet accent and a gargled croak where blood clogged his throat. 

‘Y/N…’ he started. ‘Run away… Before… Before I kill you.’

The scene reminded her of the time he came in with his injured ankle. How desperate he was to fade into nothing because he was scared and ashamed of what he’d done. But just like then, she refused to be scared of him. 

Y/N shook her head. ‘I’m not leaving you, Newt,’ she said. ‘None of us will.’

Newt seemed to realise there were more people than just her and Thomas, turning around to see the others. The sight of them seemed to distress him, though, as he snarled angrily and charged at her. She shuffled back as he swung at her again and again, but as she stepped back again, she tripped on something. She fell onto her back, knocking the air out of her lungs. Before she could gather herself up, Newt was on her, straddling her similar to how he had Thomas pinned before. Newt raised the knife to bring down on her but was tackled by Thomas.

They rolled for a little, then scrambled to their feet as they fought once more. This was Y/N’s only chance. She pushed herself up and ran for the boys, injector at the ready. Newt was bringing the knife forward in a wide arc that would gut Thomas when Y/N threw herself in between them, slamming the injector into Newt’s arm.

Right as his drove the knife into her stomach.

‘Y/N!’ 

She wasn’t sure who called her name, because all she could focus on was Newt as some of the blackness in his eyes cleared and she saw some of his gorgeous brown eyes. She also felt her body finally giving up. As if it knew that this was the end. After all the torture and pain, she had stayed alive so long for one reason. To save Newt – the boy who had been there from the start. So much so she hadn’t realised until he wasn’t there how much he meant to her. How he’d wormed his way into her heart and consumed it without her even knowing. 

She gripped his hand that held the knife in her stomach, unfurled his fingers from the handle, and brought them to her chest where her heart was slowly slowing down. Her weak legs gave out, and she brought Newt down to his knees with her. She could’ve been imagining things, but she swore she saw recognition in his half-black eyes which made her smile as tears finally fell from her eyes.

‘It’s okay, Newt,’ she whispered. ‘It’s okay because… I love you.’

Her vision blurred and she finally let go of Newt as the both of them collapsed to the ground. Her breaths were short and sharp as the pain made itself known. A rush of feet thumped around her, and she had the slightest awareness that someone was moving her, but she didn’t care. She was finally at peace as darkness, at last, consumed her.

~

Y/N woke to the sound of waves rolling over on sand. The first thing she saw was grey canvas, then rolled her head around to see she was lying on a cot in a small tent with tables and medical supplies similar to how her Medjack hut looked. But she wasn’t alone.

‘Oh my God.’ Brenda’s face came into focus as the girl crouched by Y/N’s cot, disbelief and relief morphing her gentle features. ‘You’re awake! You’re finally awake!’

‘Ow,’ Y/N clasped at her head at the sudden loudness. ‘Could you lower your voice please?’

‘Yes, right, sorry,’ Brenda said, but her lips split in a bright smile as she helped Y/N sit up. ‘I’m just so happy you’re okay.’

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked, all she remembered was being stabbed then falling unconscious. She pulled up her fresh linen shirt to see her wound bandaged. ‘I thought I was done for.’

‘So did all of us,’ Brenda admitted, her tone sombre as she pulled up a seat beside the cot. ‘We got you to the berg as quickly as possible and Vince got you stable, but you just weren’t waking up. It’s been a week.’

‘A week?’ Y/N made to get up but sat back down as her wound pulled in an unpleasant way.

‘Whoa, where do you think you’re going?’ Brenda asked stabilising Y/N back in her bed. ‘You’ve just come out of a coma induced by physical and mental torture. Not to mention you were stabbed.’

‘I’m fine. Trust me, I’m trained… somewhat,’ Y/N said, this time able to swing her legs over the side of her cot. Brenda didn’t try and stop her, but she did have to help Y/N when she stood. ‘Now, where is Newt?’ Brenda didn’t answer right away, and tears threatened to pool in Y/N’s eyes at what her silence could mean. ‘Brenda… Is he… Is he alive?’

Brenda, again, didn’t answer, and her face didn’t give anything away either. Instead, she just held back the flap of the tent and motioned for Y/N to exit. Y/N took cautious steps forward as she followed Brenda into a completely new place that had her staring in awe.

It was a bustling camp where sleeping quarters and other spaces were mapped out by canvas strung up on carved wood pillars and posts. Y/N spied a kitchen area where she swore she heard Frypan laughing with some others. 

There was a gathering area where a giant stone stood in front of the seats. There were names carved into it, like what they used to do in the Glade. Y/N tried to make out if a certain blonde’s name was on it. She caught familiar names like Alby and Chuck, Clint and Jeff. 

‘Y/N?’ 

She swung around to find Brenda smiling as she was joined by Thomas, Minho, and Jorge. The three of them ran at her, arms wide open to capture her in a hug.

‘You crazy shank, Minho said, laughter on his lips. ‘Look who finally decided to join the living again.’

‘And here I thought I was the lazy slinthead for sleeping for so long,’ Thomas said jokingly, pulling Y/N in for another hug. ’I’m so relieved.’

‘Welcome back, hermana,’ Jorge said, a warm smile gracing his lips as he gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder.

‘Good to be back,’ Y/N replied, smiling at the three males. ‘What happened after I thought I’d died?’

Thomas went to reply, but Minho cut in. ‘We’ll explain later. Right now, I think you should go say hi to someone else.’

Confused, Y/N followed Minho’s gaze to Brenda, who stood atop a hill and was staring over the other side of it. Y/N quickly reached Brenda’s position and followed her gaze to a large garden that people were working on. But her breath caught at the sight of a familiar blond at the edge of the gardens talking and pointing in all directions to people.

‘Hey, Newt!’ Brenda called out, causing the blond to turn around and look up. At first, he saw Brenda, but his gaze soon fell on Y/N and his whole face changed into disbelief.

With the other gardeners forgotten, he started climbing up the hill, and Y/N couldn’t wait another moment so she started walking down the hill. 

They met in the middle, with Y/N standing at Newt’s height on the uphill. Neither said anything to begin with, both in disbelief and awe at who stood in front of them. Y/N looked over Newt, noting he still looked pale and somewhat sickly. But the dark veins were gone, as was the black blood and his black eyes. And the sun shone so brightly that his hair looked golden. It was as if he was never infected to begin with.

With a shaky hand, she reached out to rest her hand over his beating heart. ‘You’re alive,’ she whispered, too scared to voice it too loudly in case this was also another nightmare. 

But he proved her doubts wrong as he rested his own hand on top of hers. ‘I am,’ he said, and the usual warmth of his voice truly convinced her he was real. 

His face pinched suddenly with concern and guilt. ‘I’m so sorry, Y/N,’ he said, his hand tightening slightly over hers. ‘I hurt you. I almost…’

‘It’s okay,’ she interrupted, using her free hand to cradle is cheek and keep his eyes on her. ‘You didn’t. I am here, too. Looks like we both saved each other.’

To her relief Newt smiled. It was a genuine, happy smile, something she hadn’t seen on him in a long time. He nuzzled into her hand briefly, before bringing it down with his free hand so he held her hands between them. 

‘Before I passed out,’ he started, ‘I remember you saying something.’

‘Oh.’ A blush heated upon her cheeks, but she refused to look away from him. ‘Right. I did say something.’

She was trying to play it cool, but as soon as his deep brown eyes fixed on her, she knew he could see right through her. But he didn’t smile smugly, he didn’t tease. He actually looked scared as his jaw clenched, fighting to find the next words to speak. 

‘You said you love me,’ he finally said, words tight but hopeful. ‘Is that true?’

Y/N’s mouth dried up suddenly, constricted by all the things she wished to say but couldn’t say all at once. It’s not like she was scared, she just never thought she would live long enough to have a future, let alone one with love. One with Newt.

But she had – she had survived WCKD’s cruelty, she had survived the terrors of the old world, she had survived when so many of her friends hadn’t. And it was her duty to live her gift of a life to the fullest.

‘Yes,’ she finally said, and it was like breathing in fresh air after being underground for so long. ‘I love you, Newt. I don’t know when or how it happened, but I do. I love you.’ 

There was a second of hesitation, but then Newt broke out into a wide smile, and Y/N swore she saw tears brim in his eyes. He suddenly reached one hand up to cradle her neck as he pulled Y/N in for a sweet kiss that simultaneously knocked the air out of her and breathed new life into her. He held her neck and hip, and she pressed her hands against his chest, satisfied to feel his heart thundering beneath her hands. The heart that almost never beat again, the heart that had saved her over and over again. 

The kiss was short but was no less breath-taking, and when they pulled apart neither could stop the smiles on their faces. 

‘I love you, too,’ Newt said. ‘If that wasn’t already obvious.’

Y/N threw her head back in a hearty laugh. She slung her arms around Newt’s neck, a cheeky grin dancing across her lips. ‘I’m not so sure. Maybe we could try that again to make sure?’

‘Cheeky bugger,’ he murmured as he pressed his lips to hers again. Y/N sighed into the kiss, grasping the baby hairs at the base of his head. 

They pulled apart at the sound of their friends whooping and clapping atop the hill. Y/N felt her face erupt with embarrassed heat, to which Newt laughed as she ducked her head into his chest. 

‘All right, come on lovebirds!’ Minho called out. ‘Dinner’s almost ready.’

As they walked down out of sight, Y/N went to follow but was stopped by a loose grip on her wrist.

‘What is it?’ she asked as she turned back to Newt.

‘I just…’ Newt turned to the gardens below, then to the water, then to the sunset that bathed the whole camp in beautiful hues of orange, pink and purple. When he finally turned back to Y/N, she thought he couldn’t look any more handsome with that pure sunshine smile and sparkle in his eyes. ‘Thanks.’

‘For what?’ she asked.

‘For teaching me how to be brave,’ he answered.

Y/N gave his hand a squeeze. ‘You were always brave, Newt,’ she said. ‘It’s how I learned how to be brave in the first place.’

Newt squeezed her hand in return, then they walked hand in hand back up the hill and down to dinner to where their friend awaited them. 

Where the lives they never imagined they’d get a chance to live awaited them.

#maze runner newt x reader #newt x reader #tmr newt x reader #maze runner imagines #maze runner x reader #the maze runner #minho #tmr frypan #tmr thomas #tmr minho #tmr newt #tmr gally #tmr brenda #tmr jorge #the death cure #the scorch trials #romance #angst #friends to lovers

[avocado-writing]

For the bg3 requests how about the companions realizing they love tav in the middle of a battle(love your work!!!)

partner piece to this!

Astarion

realises when he sees you cut down someone in battle to save him.

you don’t think twice about beheading the cultist, or shooting them full of a magic missile, or stabbing them in the guts from the shadows - whatever you do is equally wonderful.

his eyes go wide as he watches you make the killing blow. warm blood spatters on his face and, when you shout to ask if he’s alright, his heart does a funny little dance in his chest.

he’s alright. he’s the most alright that he’s ever been, actually

kisses you suddenly, the taste of the kill dancing between your lips, and stares at you very sincerely.

“I love you.” then back to the battle before you can press it any further.

Gale

if you’re a spell caster, he falls for you because of your capability using magic. you have a knack for it he finds delightful.

the twirl of your hands, soft speaking as you recite verbal components, all of it - it’s all perfect.

he stares at you, distracted for a moment, and then gets a club in the side of the head and is catapulted back to battle.

if you’re not a mage then it’s when you do something he taught you, silencing an enemy wizard by cutting them off when you realise a somatic component. you shoot him a thumbs up and he feels his whole face go bright red.

you listen to him. you care about him. and he loves you.

Wyll

you’re fighting back-to-back, fending off enemies as they charge towards you, yelling out directions for the other one to be watching.

“wyll! big guy on your left!”

he turns and stabs, running through an orc, and hears you laugh from the exhilaration of battle.

he realises then how much he loves you, how he’d never have any other life than this heart-pounding, blood-pumping excitement with you; and he’d do anything to keep you safe.

there’s no time for him to confess right now… but he does reach behind himself to give your free hand a little squeeze with his. just so you know. just so he can come back to it and confess later.

Karlach

raging, so it’s less her thinking through it and more a series of realisations which come to her all at once.

you: fighting. you: protecting. you: protecting her. you: capable. you: loveable.

oh, it all slips into place. she can’t do anything about it right now because her axe is buried in the face of an ogre, but after the battle when she’s calmed down she seeks you out.

is a bit awkward about it, finds reasons to be near you, but you manage to work out what it is she is desperate to say.

give her a kiss, and she squeals with excitement. she thinks you’re just perfect!

Lae’zel

ahh, lae’zel. would she fall for you at any other time?

has always watched your form in battle but there’s something about today, this fight. she can’t keep her eyes off of you.

you are flawless. perfect. dispatching enemies with ease.

she realises she feels not just fondness for you, but love. something she did not believe that she’d ever experience.

she is a little distracted and gets hit, but that just makes her focus back on the battle. you check in with her afterwards and she brushes you off, stomping away to go and mull her feelings over.

is… scared to confess to you. may do it one day. not today.

Shadowheart

runs over to heal you during a battle, your wounds are great, but you shake her off:

”you’re in far worse condition than me! heal yourself first!”

she realises how hurt she is for the first time. she sort of learned to deal with the pain as she was raised sharran, but… you’re the one who’s taken notice of her. nobody has ever done that.

suddenly she is overwhelmed with feelings for you. she’d been soft for you before, but now she is overwhelmed with emotion.

she does heal herself, and then you - luxuriating in the feel of your skin under her hands.

Halsin

he’s already fond of you, but the thing that really gets him is during one particular battle.

you’re fighting and he can see you’re doing your best to protect something behind you from your assailants. during a moment when an enemy is down he sees what’s behind you: a baby boar, terrified.

not the most pleasant creature, covered in mud and squealing, but you still are attempting to shield it from the battle, and when the fight is over he sees you use magic to talk to it and calm it down, check it over for wounds.

he realises how smitten he is with you in that moment. how much you care. you are perfect, and he wants to spend his life with you.

Minthara

probably falls for you during an act of violence, a particularly bloody kill.

you show no mercy to your opponent, opening them from throat to navel, eyes bright as you see them bleed out.

you are an angel of death, vicious and proud. you smile at your kill and minthara finds herself smiling too.

charming. you are charming, and that’s all there is too it. she smiles through the rest of the battle at the thought of you.

#shadowheart x reader #shadowheart x tav #karlach x reader #karlach x tav #gale x reader #gale x tav #gale dekarios x reader #gale of waterdeep x reader #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion ancunin x reader #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #lae’zel x reader #lae’zel x tav #Wyll x reader #wyll x tav #wyll ravengard x reader #Wyll ravengard x tav #minthara x tav #minthara x reader #My writing #request

[avatar-anna]

When You Fall In Love...

so i've been reading icebreaker and it's been putting me in the hockeyrry mood

part one, part two, bonus, bonus

Harry watched from the empty stands as Y/n ran through her routine for the fifth time. Her teammates had gone home, her coach asked Harry if he would lock up on the way out, and now it was just the two of them in the empty rink. There wasn't even any music playing anymore, Y/n was just skating and performing her tricks as if there was.

Every time she did it, it was flawless. Her routine was fast and intense and incredibly difficult, but Y/n performed with ease every time. She landed her tricks like they were nothing, tricks which Harry now knew the names of and could tell the difference between a lutz and an axel. She was incredible, and he was in awe of her every single time.

But even in her perfection, Y/n had yet to smile once.

Harry decided she'd had enough after she finished her fifth run-through, quickly jogging down to the edge of the rink before she could skate out to the middle again. He leaned over the barricade and kissed the top of her head. This close to her, he could see her rosy cheeks and heaving chest, a sign that her routine did wear her out, despite making it look so effortless.

"You were phenomenal as usual, baby," Harry said while he gathered her things.

"I bobbled a landing and my timing was off for a whole four counts," was her reply.

Harry frowned, not pleased by her recent negativity. Any athlete could be critical of their ability, but Y/n seemed uncharacteristically hard on herself lately, and he had no idea why. "Everything okay?" He asked, shouldering her duffle bag as they walked away from the rink.

"I'm fine."

She certainly didn't sound fine, but Harry decided not to push. Not now, anyway. Changing the subject, he said, "I got an email from the recruiter. I should be receiving my contract soon."

Excitement didn't even begin to cover how Harry had been feeling lately. Last week, he'd met with an agent of a minor league hockey team, one that was a feeder to an NHL team. He expressed their interest in Harry moving to the east coast after graduation and join them for spring training. And after giving it some thought, Harry accepted.

He was over the moon, thrilled that years of hard work was finally paying off. He'd made his passion into a career, and had the potential to really make a name for himself. Life couldn't have been better.

But where Harry seemed to be flying high, Y/n seemed stuck. She was happy for him when he told her the news, had gone out to celebrate with him that night. But something felt off between them. Harry couldn't put a name to it, but he just knew.

"That's great," Y/n said with no amount of enthusiasm in her voice. Harry tried not to take it to heart, she was clearly in a mood from her practice. She was under a lot of pressure too, he reminded himself, and sometimes had a knack for not knowing how to express herself with words.

"Is there something on your mind? You've been quiet recently," he said, hoping he wasn't overstepping her delicate boundary.

Y/n shook her head as she approached her car, sliding into the driver's seat without a word. Harry couldn't help but feel more and more like there was something on her mind, but he let it go again.

Before pulling the car out of the parking lot, Y/n rested her hand over his and leaned in to kiss him. "I'm sorry. I've just got a lot on my mind."

"It's okay. As long as you know you can talk to me about it."

Her throat bobbed, but she nodded, then turned her focus toward the road. Harry filled the silence with rambling. He talked mostly about the NHL, about his contract and where he wanted to live and how everything was happening so fast.

So caught up in trying to break the tension, he didn't notice Y/n's white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

*.*

"Styles! What the hell are you doing? Focus up! Let's go!"

Harry rested his hands on his knees, breathing heavily during the brief pause in the game. His eyes flicked up to the stands, searching the crowd for a familiar face, but he didn't see the one he needed the most.

Despite being recruited by a minor league hockey team, Harry was probably having the worst game of his life.

Not one pass connected, he was letting second-rate players get by him, and he'd spent more time in the penalty box than in the actual game. Nothing about this was right, and still all he could do was look for Y/n.

She wasn't there, and even though things had been weird between them recently, he was still surprised. When she wasn't at a competition of her own, Y/n came to every one of Harry's games. It had started out as Harry wanting to impress her, maybe show off a little, and then as time went on and they grew closer and their relationship became more than two people having sex in secret, he wanted her to be there just because it felt good knowing she was watching him play. All his nerves floated away when Y/n was sat in the stands, sometimes in his jersey, cheering him on.

And of course there were times when she couldn't come, but this wasn't one of those times. Y/n had purposely not shown up. He knew they'd fought before the game, but he didn't think she would abandon him just to be petty. They were past that now.

His sole focus should've been on the game he was playing, but instead his mind kept drifting to the fight.

Harry could feel Y/n pulling away from him. He finally felt like he was getting everything he wanted—a spot on a minor league hockey team on the east coast that would eventually lead him to the NHL, graduating with semi-decent grades thanks to Y/n, and of course being with his dream girl. At first, she'd seen him as some douchey athlete that was only good for one thing. He remembered seeing her for the first time their freshman year, performing tricks on the ice that he'd only ever seen on TV, and when he whistled and clapped loudly—perhaps a little obnoxiously—after she'd finished, she'd rolled her eyes at him and told him to fuck off.

It was love at first sight.

Harry had been so careful around Y/n. He played by her rules and followed her lead, trying not to let the comments about them not dating get to him too much. He liked their initial dynamic, finding it funny when he got under her skin because she made it so easy. It became a kind of game, this push and pull that was fun and exciting and eventually led to their arrangement.

He knew that she cared about him on some level, he just needed to bide his time and show her he wasn't who she thought he was. Not entirely, anyway. And when she finally did, and they became more than just people who screwed around, everything was perfect.

They'd been through so much together. Y/n pushed Harry to be better, and he worked with her to master new tricks and nail her routine. There wasn't anyone else who understood his level of commitment to hockey, but she did, and that just made him love her more.

So when he got the call offering him a spot on the minor league team, Y/n was the first person Harry told. She'd been happy for him, and he was over the moon, his mind already making a million plans—where they'd live, her coming to his games, him helping her find a new rink to train at. It felt like the doors to a new and exciting world had opened for them, but she then she started pulling back, and Harry practically watched as that door slammed shut.

Harry pushed himself to focus back on the game, on the hockey stick in his hand and the ice beneath his skates. He felt like it took more effort than it should've to get his head back in the game, but his team managed to pull out a win, and he managed not to get benched before it happened. That didn't stop his coach from ripping him a new one in the locker room, but Harry sat there and took it, shaking his head and promising his piss poor performance would never happen again.

Exhausted both physically and mentally, he trudged out of the locker room and toward the parking lot, debating whether to take the bus home or call an Uber. Even in his senior year, he still didn't have a car, but Y/n was usually there to give him a ride home. To their home. Moving in together for their last year of school seemed like a no-brainer, and it had been amazing so far, though the last week had been kind of a disaster. Harry could feel the tension between them growing, but every time he asked Y/n about it, she'd say she was fine even though they both knew everything was not fine, and the cycle continued. He wanted to be excited, he wanted to celebrate the success he'd managed to create for himself, but he felt rather deflated instead.

To Harry's surprise, Y/n was waiting for him in the parking lot. He didn't hesitate putting his gear in the trunk and coming around to sit in the passenger seat. Y/n leaned in to kiss him immediately holding onto the sides of his face fervently.

"I'm sorry," she breathed. "I'm sorry for not being here tonight and I'm sorry for acting strange, and I'm sorry for—"

"Y/n, what's going on with you?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

"Can we wait until we get home to talk?" She asked. I want to be able to talk to you properly, and I can't if I'm driving.

When Harry nodded, Y/n must've deemed it enough. She peeled away from the rink, silent tension filling the air between once again. It had been following them around all week.

That ended tonight, though. He didn't care how much Y/n hated confrontation or hard conversations. They couldn't move forward if they didn't move past this roadblock first. Harry loved Y/n more than he ever thought possible, and stubborn as she was, he knew she loved him just as much. He would get to the bottom of this, no matter how hard she tried to fight him on the way down.

*.*

"Y/n, you know I would be ecstatic if you'd told me you qualified for the Olympics. This is a huge step in my career! Why can't you be happy for me?"

"I am! God, Harry, I am."

"Then why are you pulling away from me? I feel like I can't be excited about this around you when you're the one person who should understand how this feels."

"I can't do this. I can't have this argument with you," you said, trying to step away from him.

Harry was quick to grab your hands in his, keeping you from walking away. "What aren't you telling me? Do you want to break up?"

"No!

"Do you not love me anymore? What? What is it, Y/n?"

"God, I didn't—I didn't ask for this," you cried, feeling like a damn had burst inside you. It was out now, and now you had to see it through to the end. "I didn't plan on falling in love with you. I wasn't prepared to love you this much. You're the one who wanted to take things further, and now you're—"

You're leaving me, you couldn't bring yourself to say. You really were happy for him. All of his dreams were coming true, and he had an ambition that matched yours, which made you love him more. And now that ambition was taking him far away from you, and you weren't handling it as well as you thought you would.

"Y/n—"

"I'm happy for you, H, I'm so happy for you that I could burst. And maybe even a little jealous," you joked, though there was some truth to what you said. "But I guess I just...I guess I didn't expect to love you this much. And I don't—I don't know what to do because you're going soon and I'm..."

You had no clue, and that alone was terrifying.

At the start of all this, you never imagined falling in love with Harry. He drove you absolutely insane, and despite your physical attraction to him, you kept your distance. But he kept doing these things that made you like him, and eventually care about him, and finally made you fall in love with him. It just wasn't something you saw coming. Love was definitely not on the brain when you met Harry.

Because you knew this moment was inevitable. The moment when one of you would be given an opportunity you couldn't refuse and would pull you away from each other. Once upon a time, you thought you would be given your dream job of a lifetime—competitive skating and hopefully the Olympics—but somewhere down the line, skating stopped bringing you joy, only pressure and anxiety. And now Harry had his dream job on the other side of the country, and you were left to flounder and wonder how you would survive waking up without him next to you.

"You're making it seem like it's a bad thing that you're in love with me," Harry said quietly, but the low tone of his voice didn't hide anything. You knew he was getting upset. After all the avoidance the last week—on your part—yours and his emotions were coming to a head.

"It's not! It's just that you're leaving!" you said, resisting the urge to run a frustrated hand through your hair. "And all week you've talked about how excited to get out of here and leave this all behind and start a new chapter in your life. I mean, would it kill you to act like you're a little torn up about leaving?"

It was so selfish, and you knew it was. It was why you'd been avoiding Harry, this conversation. Harry had every right to be proud and ecstatic for leaving to play in the professional league. He worked so hard, pushed himself farther than anyone you'd ever met, except for maybe you. Your pain was clouding your good sense, and now you'd shown just how horrible you could really be.

You couldn't look him in the eye after saying what you did. Even if it was how you felt, you still felt ashamed for raining on Harry's parade. "Y/n—" he tried to say when you hastily wiped a tear from your eye.

"I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry," you said, getting up from the couch and scurrying off to your bedroom.

Flopping on the bed, you pulled the covers over you, trying to hide from everything happening around you. It was too much. Your senior year was supposed to be fun and full of unforgettable memories, not arguments and heartache.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before the door opened and Harry slipped inside. He slid into bed next to you, and you didn't fight it when he rested his face in the crook of your neck. Because despite everything you were feeling, this was all you really needed.

"I'm not leaving you behind," he murmured gently. "You mean too much to me."

You sniffled, and Harry pulled you closer to his chest. "You're going to be thousands of miles away."

"Says who?" he said, kissing your cheek. "Who says you aren't coming with me?"

"And do what?" you huffed, even though the thought slightly lifted your spirits. "Be one of your...puck whatevers and follow you around like a puppy? I need a life of my own too."

You were being stubborn and argumentative and you both knew it. There was some relief in knowing Harry wanted you with him, but you also didn't want to just move because Harry was. You needed purpose, you needed to feel like your life had some sort of direction in it. But it was unfair to put all of that on Harry, and you didn't know how to express how you felt without sounding insane, so instead you said nothing, and that obviously went over brilliantly.

Harry chuckled. "See, because you just said how in love you are with me, I can tell that you're frosty attitude is just an act. Now turn over and look at me."

You reluctantly turned over, brow furrowed exaggeratedly because you couldn't cross your arms over your chest. It used to infuriate you how easily Harry could get under your skin because he knew you so well, that he knew just what to do or say to pull you out of a bad mood. In this moment, you were thankful. He could see past all the harsh words and see to the root of the problem. You'd said some things that were perhaps out of order, but Harry understood. Despite everything, he understood.

"You've worked just as hard as me, Y/n. I want to be there for you the way you've been for me. You can achieve your goals too."

"I just...I don't know if I want to achieve them anymore," you said quietly.

It was the first time you'd said it out loud. Since you'd learned to skate, there had only been one goal: the Olympics. Getting there wasn't just a matter of training, it was about devoting your life to your craft, it was barely having a life outside of training and competitions and giving all your time to winning. And after spending nearly your entire life doing it, you felt yourself slowly burning out. You'd go through your routines flawlessly, but your heart wasn't in it. All you could think about was the future—the next competition, the next training session, the next qualifier. It took seeing Harry so happy about being drafted to the minor leagues to realize the fire had gone out in you. Thinking of Olympic qualifiers and training and affording coaches and costumes and picking the right music only filled you with dread when you should've felt joy.

"Oh."

"But I don't know who I am if I don't have skating."

"You don't have to compete to skate, you know," Harry said. He rested his hand against your cheek, rubbing his thumb along your temple lightly. "You can c—"

"Oh God, don't say coach," you groaned. "It's perfect. You'll be a hockey superstar and I'll be the washed-up figure skater who couldn't handle the pressure of being an athlete and wound up coaching instead."

"I know you're being like this because you're scared, and that's okay," he said. "But I'll help you find a new dream, Y/n. I promise."

You had to blink away tears because your heart couldn't take how much he cared about you. "Even when I've been a complete bitch?"

"You haven't been. I'm sorry if you felt like I was leaving you behind. I guess in my mind we would always be together, no matter where we ended up."

"God I hate how much I love you sometimes," you grumbled while flinging yourself on top of Harry and holding him tight. "It's too much, you're too much, and I can't stand it—"

"There's a compliment in there somewhere, right?" Harry asked, but you could hear the grin in his voice.

Sitting up, you perched yourself on him, your legs straddling his waist. Dipping down, you made sure your noses were brushing, but you didn't close the distance. Not yet. Your heart was racing simply because Harry had been so kind to you, because he knew you so well and said exactly what you needed to hear. It felt ridiculous to know that there was a time when he pissed you off so much you saw red, that his teasing remarks and cocky grin grated on your nerves. Now you didn't want to imagine a life without him.

"I'm sorry for saying all of those things," you murmured. "I really am proud of you. No one deserves this more than you do."

Harry's hand reached up and threaded through your hair, his fingers gentle as they passed over your scalp. "I know you are. And I mean it, Y/n. I'll help you. I know you love to skate, we just have to find a way to channel that into something else. If not coaching, maybe performing?"

"What? Like Disney on Ice?" you asked skeptically, your nose wrinkling at the thought.

Harry shrugged as his hand dipped beneath your shirt to stroke your back. "You'd be a cute princess."

"With my luck, they'd make me a tree."

"Then you'd be the cutest tree there ever was."

Shaking your head, you nudged your nose against his again. "Can we hit pause on talking about the future? I just want to be with you here. Right now."

"Course," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked grin. "And then maybe we can circle back to you being my puck whatever."

"Shut up."

"Make me!"

And that was something you knew how to do better than your skating routine.

#harry styles #hockey player!harry styles #ice skater!y/n #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic #hockeyrry

[carmelcoco]

mercury notes. 💅🏻

Disclaimer. these observations do not have to resonate with everyone and everything, all expressed in this post is based on personal experience and research.

LONG POST ahead in this post I have covered

Mercury Signs and their Characteristics

Mercury sign and how they text

Trauma through Mercury sign (coming soon)

mercury signs and their characteristics 🍭

🫧 aries mercury

You're blunt and direct because you deeply care about your loved ones and want what's best for them, even if it initially hurts. You're a reliable friend who values mental stimulation over constant chatter. You're quick-witted and passionate, often diving into new interests headfirst, even if you haven't mastered them yet. Challenges excite you, and you prefer things that make you think hard. You can get obsessed until you figure something out, and once you do, you stick with it. However, you might get competitive or jealous when others are better at something you're passionate about. Plus, all that thinking can give you headaches. But ultimately, your bluntness stems from a place of caring, and your loyalty and agility of mind make you a valuable friend.

🫧 taurus mercury

Your laidback nature stems from your focus on what truly matters to you. You're guarded because you've learned to prioritize your goals and rely only on yourself, leading to a preference for a small, trustworthy circle. While emotional, your rationality guides you to offer practical advice sought by many. When you love, you do so intensely, either fully invested or not at all, which can leave you drained in communication and occasionally introverted, causing concern among others. You're honest and direct, with an appreciation for the beauty of words, possibly drawn to poetry. In youth, you might have easily developed crushes and possess a melodious voice, possibly skilled in singing. With Taurus Mercury, your communication style is stable and methodical, marked by a reserved demeanor and a tendency to carefully analyze your thoughts and opinions. While you may appear stubborn, others view you as thoughtful and reliable due to your grounded approach to communication.

🫧 gemini mercury

With your mind always buzzing, you might need to work on organizing to avoid getting overwhelmed easily. You're a sponge for information, possibly even having some psychic intuition. Your ability to grasp concepts quickly lets you talk your way through things effortlessly, even if you haven't fully digested them. People trust whatever you say, even if it's random, thanks to your charm. Your hunger for knowledge keeps you everywhere, possibly juggling multiple social media accounts or interests, making you intriguing yet hard to pin down. From a young age, you displayed advanced intellect, impressing others with your wisdom beyond years. However, your thirst for new knowledge can lead to forgetting old ones, making exams a struggle unless you study hard. Despite this, you're generous and respectful, always open to communication, which earns you many acquaintances but perhaps few deep emotional bonds, leaving you somewhat detached. You're expressive, likely talking with your hands and body to drive your point home. With a Gemini Mercury, you're curious and talkative, overflowing with ideas and a penchant for witty, sarcastic communication. You enjoy delving into topics deeply and playfully, often expressing yourself through clever wordplay and puns.

🫧 cancer mercury

Cancer Mercuries are often misunderstood due to the crybaby stereotype, but they're much more than that. They have a knack for sensing emotions, especially in their loved ones, and their words carry a depth that reflects their own experiences and wounds. They have a remarkable memory for emotional moments, often recalling cringey or painful events vividly while forgetting trivial details easily. These folks lean towards introversion and need plenty of alone time to recharge, thriving best among their loved ones. Clear communication is crucial with them as they can sense insincerity. Despite their emotional nature, they keep their feelings guarded and may use self-deprecating humor to deflect. Once they trust you, though, they're fiercely loyal and offer comfort and support with their words. With a Cancer Mercury, communication is deeply compassionate and intuitive, rooted in empathy and a desire to nurture and support others. They express themselves poetically and creatively, understanding others' pain and offering unwavering support.

🫧 leo mercury

Individuals with Leo Mercury express their love and affection through communication, showing warmth and making others feel like instant best friends. They can get obsessive about their interests and crushes, giving them intense focus. In learning environments, they need joy and fun to stay engaged. They value actions over words, so if you claim to love them, you better show it. Their charming communication style attracts attention, but they must be mindful of what they say as people tend to magnify their words. They're prone to checking up on loved ones frequently, regardless of how much time has passed, as attention is their love language. However, a downside is their reluctance to consider others' viewpoints, often believing they're always right. With Leo Mercury, communication is energetic, confident, and direct, with a charismatic and engaging flair. They enjoy being the center of attention and aren't afraid to assert themselves, making them natural leaders in communication.

🫧 virgo mercury

Virgo Mercuries are like the champions of communication, always making sure their words are well put together and hard to argue against, reminiscent of those kids who constantly won spelling bees. They're high achievers from a young age, constantly seeking logic and truth in everything, which can lead them to get lost in details and feel overwhelmed. Even in chaos, they handle things maturely with logic, earning them the reputation of wise advisors. However, their attention to detail can lead to overthinking, as they scrutinize even the smallest actions and texts, making it hard to deceive them. Suspicious by nature, they'll do thorough research, even stalking if needed, to uncover the truth. They should trust themselves more and boost their self-confidence to overcome intrusive thoughts. With a Virgo Mercury, communication is analytical and critical, driven by a desire for perfection and precision. They analyze everything before speaking, taking a methodical and logical approach that can sometimes lead to overthinking. Patience and self-discipline are key for them to manage their overactive minds effectively.

🫧 libra mercury

Libra Mercuries thrive on peace and harmony in their daily lives, feeling unsettled when things are out of order. While they're adept at seeing both sides of a story, they can get lost in trying to maintain balance. However, they've learned it's okay to embrace chaos occasionally, especially since they easily get bored. Despite their indecisive nature, they possess objective intelligence, making them skilled at solving problems from different perspectives, which suits careers in law or similar fields. Yet, their desire for justice can lead to complicated situations due to their reluctance to choose sides. This indecision may strain friendships, although they can also be seen as loyal and reliable if positively manifested. They have a thirst for knowledge and are drawn to what stimulates their minds, enjoying romance books or shows and even finding amusement in chaotic situations, despite not being naturally chaotic themselves. A positively manifested Libra Mercury is a great friend to have, always supportive and having your back. In communication, they're charming and balanced, adept at friendly and diplomatic interactions. They enjoy engaging with others, keeping conversations light and positive, and prefer to avoid confrontation or conflict, prioritizing harmony and balance in their relationships.

🫧 scorpio mercury

Scorpio Mercuries are enigmatic and hard to decipher. They're private and move in silence, carefully displaying only what they want others to see to avoid suspicion. With high emotional intelligence and intense intuition, they can easily fall into destructive thought patterns, including intrusive or sexual thoughts, and fear being exposed. Despite their suspicion of others' intentions, they strive to maintain a high vibrational image. In love, they're fiercely loyal and keep secrets close, but they can be ruthless if wronged. They delve deeply into thoughts, even overanalyzing simple problems and pondering existential questions. Their intuition often reveals truths they'd rather not know, making hiding things from them futile. Obsessed with what stimulates them, they can become stubborn and refuse to let go of harmful things. They find meaning in everything, holding onto items or information they believe will be useful. While loyal, they keep themselves guarded, trusting only themselves. Others may find them intimidating or blunt, and they enjoy playing with power due to their ability to easily gain trust. A Scorpio Mercury communicates sensitively and perceptively, reading into hidden meanings and subtext. They tend to keep their thoughts and feelings to themselves, balancing expression with restraint. They possess strong intuition and mental energy but may struggle with overthinking.

🫧 sagittarius mercury

Individuals with Sagittarius Mercury are warm and nonjudgmental, making others feel at home and giving them the best time of their lives. They're open-minded and objective, often surprising people with their vast knowledge and random facts, although they may feel insecure about their intelligence. They tend to see the best in everyone and can easily be taken advantage of due to their desire to do the right thing. They're great listeners and offer wise, unbiased advice, drawing people to them for venting sessions. Growing up, they were likely interested in solving larger problems, but they can get stressed easily and lost in knowledge and details. They're open to new experiences and friends but are put off by judgmental or arrogant people. They have a playful sense of humor and enjoy sharing random facts with friends, but they don't like being told what to do and can be unreliable if they're not truly interested in something. Their attention span is short, making it difficult to focus, and meditation may be challenging due to their constantly active minds. With Sagittarius Mercury, communication is playful and positive, marked by quick wit, humor, and a talent for uplifting conversations. They bring a bright and lively energy to any interaction, making people laugh and bringing joy to any situation.

🫧 capricorn mercury

Capricorn Mercuries are reserved and only share what's necessary, commanding respect with their directness, which can sometimes be mistaken for rudeness. They avoid drama and focus on their own pursuits, maintaining a private and reserved demeanor. Their knowledge comes from life experiences and karma, often shaped by past struggles and moments of loneliness. While typically kind, they have clear boundaries and won't hesitate to assert themselves when pushed too far. They're calculated and loyal, often taking on a protective role, especially with siblings. With a mature outlook on life, they exude old soul vibes and may seem like natural teachers. They excel at planning and methodical tasks, dedicating themselves fully to their responsibilities. Despite being social, they prioritize duty and future success over socializing, often retreating to recharge. They value trustworthiness and responsibility in others but have little tolerance for foolishness. Communication for Capricorn Mercuries is pragmatic and logical, characterized by a clear and ordered approach. They prefer speaking with precision and clarity, often overthinking decisions and striving for perfection.

🫧 aquarius mercury

Aquarius Mercuries possess vivid imaginations and creative minds, often thinking far ahead but struggling with simple concepts. They may excel in unconventional roles while finding day-to-day tasks boring and easily becoming distracted. Despite being social, they struggle to open up and may feel neglected or misunderstood for their ideas. Their innovative nature draws admiration, but they may attract copycats without calling them out due to their kind demeanor. They have a random but fun sense of humor, often sending memes or random comfort items. Their accepting nature and detachment make them intriguing to others, who are drawn to their unique perspective and lack of judgment. They may be interested in the occult or unconventional topics. Getting to know them is a hit or miss, as they either click with someone completely or don't connect at all. Communication for Aquarius Mercuries is unique and inventive, characterized by creative and original thinking, often outside the box. They may get lost in their thoughts and should strive for more grounded and effective communication.

🫧 pisces mercury

Pisces Mercuries possess vast knowledge and ideas but may struggle with insecurity and seek validation. They have an old, wise soul, often knowing things intuitively and feeling deeply. They are sacrificial and generous, prone to being taken advantage of due to their kindness. In love, they may overlook red flags and defend their passions fervently. Drawn to beauty and gentleness, they have a creative sense of humor and may struggle with mundane tasks. Their relationships with siblings can be complex, ranging from intuitive understanding to manipulation. When expressing their darker side, they can be manipulative or prone to self-deception. Words of affirmation are important to them, as they have a vivid imagination but are often misunderstood. Pisces Mercuries approach communication intuitively and emotionally, valuing creativity and empathy but sometimes struggling with logic and detail.

texting style of signs. 🤳🏻

water mercuries love crying/skull emojis as a cancer mercury i always find myself using crying emojis lol.

yall will find virgo mercuries communicating through email more than normal chats.

scorpio & pisces mercury = LOVE DEEP TALKS

fire mercuries and them wanting to communicate as fast as they get a thought that they would like to share with their friends.

sagittarius mercury would text you randomly and make plans with you that instant and the next thing you know is you are going out at 3am in the morning for a ride but where to you have no idea.

gemini mercury and them leaving comments under reels and getting thousand likes on it. Then they also will come and blab about it to their friends but would forget to show you the comment only and leave. LOL

aries mercuries are FAST TYPERS like while talking to them you'll have to figure your way through their typos.

Fire mercuries = using NO CAPS.

Capricorn mercury/venus will make sure to to set a time on their calendar to text you and would do it everyday without slacking and if they forget once in awhile to text you they will feel so bad about it. (applies when they are really close with someone)

taurus mercury either forgets to reply or they saw it ring. (specially if they are in their zone relaxing)

libra mercuries are very harmonious texter idk how to put it in better words lol...like i've seen libra mercuries engaging in text fights though they are the one to come and try sought it out with their rationality.

aquarius mercuries and getting to know them through chats is hella hard because either they text you one day and then you won't see them for couple business days or they'll text you litreally anything but talk about themselves.

also if your close to aquarius mercury then they'll prefer call over text.

this post was created by @carmelcoco on tumblr <3 if reposting my work please give credits.

pics by @vmstv

#astroblr #astrology #astro community #astro notes #astro observations #natal chart #natal chart observations #natal chart analysis #aries mercury #taurus mercury #gemini mercury #cancer mercury #virgo mercury #leo mercury #libra mercury #scorpio mercury #sagittarius mercury #capricorn mercury #aquarius mercury #pisces mercury #air signs #water signs #fire signs #earth signs #zodiac #astrology placements #astro placements #birth chart #astro chart #astro asks

[fanaticsnail]

Two More Times

Masterlist Here

(Image Source:)

Word Count: 4,300+

Synopsis: A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

Warnings: MDNI, smut, p in v, afab!reader, dom!shanks x brat!reader, overstimulation, Shanks begs a little bit, Shanks is a hypocrite, prolonged eye contact, inappropriate use of mirrors, has plot I swear.

Notes: This little fic was brought to you by Aussie shenanigans write night while nursing mutual hangovers. A gift for and beta-read by @sordidmusings.

Tag List: @writingmysanity, @feral-artistry, @gingernut1314

The searing burn of a scorched gaze had been fixed on your body all night long. The feel of the attention on your back as you departed, the focus pinpointed on your face as you entered; the gaze wanting so desperately to meet with your own searching within your eyes - eyes that you refused to return the longing expression to find purchase against his rust-coloured orbs. 

No illusion, nor discrepancy, had you hold any disillusion that this man - the captain of the Red-Hair Pirates, was completely smitten with you. The way he was such a gentleman for you: ordering your drinks at the tavern, ensuring you were the first to cross the threshold into a room by holding the door ajar, his body always finding itself thrust between you and harm's way. He was a captain: a man of great myth and fierce legend. His legacy will live on forever by his works and deeds alone. And he wanted you, he desired you. 

He was with you.

You desired to be by his side fingertips granting warmth to one another through presence in proximity, the almost brush of your lips meeting as your eyes glazed over. Your bodies almost always found each other in one form or another, but tonight, you were yet to clasp the final link in the heavy chains binding you physically to one another. 

The small, insignificant thing holding you back from committing to the bit; returning his gaze and advances, was the pang clashing harshly against your ribcage and desire rolling off your body in waves. This meeting with a potential Nakama for the Red-Hair Pirates; a captain as beautiful in appearance as she was in nature had you feeling inadequate and unworthy of harboring the affections of a man such as Shanks. He was yours, and you were his through and through - but she? 

Oh, she? She was spectacular. 

Instead of being Shanks’ loyal partner by his side, you engaged with your crew ensuring their drinks always remained topped up while lying idle in conversing with the new allied crew. Making polite conversation with the Nakama crew came incredibly naturally to you. You had a knack for making all those around feel special and cared for, a skillset Shanks greatly appreciated in you. 

As you maneuvered your way around Lucky Roux and Lime-Juice to meet your interlaced hands at the bar top counter, those eyes you were avoiding burned you with the same intensity you had been feeling all night. Eyes you knew should hold their intense focus in the meeting with the potential Nakama captain in front of him. You flicked your hair over your shoulder, checking on your crew while sparing a fleeting glance at your redheaded captain through your peripherals. 

His rust-coloured orbs sat unblinking and hyperfocused on your body; exactly where they shouldn’t be to ensure the meeting went smoothly. Regardless of how desperately you desired to saunter over to Shanks, quietly reprimand him in his ear with a small kiss on his cheekbone, and flee without another word: you held back to allow him space to discuss the intricacies of the meeting space with the foreign captain.

Shanks was incredibly upset about your absence at his side. He wanted his pretty girl to sit on his knee whispering praises and playful jests into his ear. He wanted to look up into your face, smiling his broad dopey grin as his pretty girl was on display for all to see. 

Instead he sat, cradling his chin in his hand and ignoring this captain he knew he should be paying his undivided attention to. But his attention did remain divided, held completely transfixed by your surliness and the subtle swing of your hips as you leant against the bar. His every sense swelled with desire to have, hold and showcase his pretty girl in front of this captain - her own attention fleeting as she held her undivided gaze on a member of her own crew. 

“Something on your mind, Red-Hair?” she asked him, watching intently as her first mate approached the bar beside you. Shanks was finally roused from his hold of contact on your back, to float to the man the captain beside him held her attention against. 

“Have you ever been in love?” Shanks uttered, smiling as he elevated his tankard to his lips. The woman beside him chuckled, looking down to her own drink and swirling her index finger over the rim.

“I am in love, Captain,” she confessed, claiming her glass in her hands with her fingertips gripping the rim; her index finger gesturing to the man beside you at the bar, “My first-mate and I have been in a relationship for quite some time. He continuously thinks himself unworthy of my affection, which is completely and utterly ridiculous.” 

“I completely understand,” Shanks said, his smile stretching over his lips and up to the peaks of his eyes, “My pretty girl is at the bar next to who I assume your first-mate be.” The captains both take a moment to watch their spouses ignore them, both engaging in polite conversation and clinking cups against one anothers. 

“They’ve been awfully quiet while we’re in our meeting, wouldn’t you say Shanks?” her brow quirked at her question. Shanks grunted out a small ‘aye’ in response, holding his eyes once more over you as you began to sway to the music swelling from the band in the corner. After a few moments of silence, both captains began to turn their smiles up into smirks as their eyes darkened. 

“A small amount of reminding them of their importance to us would be in order, do you agree?” her tone quirked at the corner alongside the elevation of her lips. Shanks huffed a laugh into the rim of his tankard, the playfulness returning to swirl with the darkness within his twinkling eyes. 

“Aye, that I can agree on,” he admitted with a small nod. The foreign captain’s first-mate glanced over his shoulder and their eyes finally met. The first-mate visibly shuddered beneath the woman’s gaze, anticipation wracking through his body at the promise of what’s to come. 

“It seems we have far more in common than we initially thought, Captain,” she nodded, rising to her feet and placing her empty glass on the table. “I shall see you in future, Red-Hair. May our newfound Nakama flourish.” Shanks nodded politely, watching the aura this captain seemed to hold over her crew. With a simple brush of her fingertips on the back of her first mate, his brows upturned and he obediently followed her exit through the threshold of the tavern door. 

And there you were: finally alone, isolated and waiting for him. 

You felt a firm hand clasp the back of your neck, tugging at the flesh and turning your head to face the presence behind you. Squeaking out a small whimper of shock, your lips met with your red-haired captain as he pressed a bruising kiss against your startled mouth.

His lips moved expertly, the hum of his voice pressed its rumbled vibration into your mouth. His brows furrowed in deep concentration, his nose sucking in an elongated breath. Rolling his tongue over his lips, he sought yours out and brushed the organ against it slowly and deliberately. 

Whistles, hollers, cheers and snickers from the Red-Hair pirates had Shanks smiling into the shameless kiss; the firm grip of his hand on the scruff of your neck rendering you helpless to do nothing but take the affection he was pressing against you. A sign of the promised punishment your present surliness held for you in your future. 

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

The rough slaps and quickened snaps of your hips meeting with his echoed within the small room. You tried to halt your soft sobs and whimpers from overstimulation, eyes tightly shut and tears pricking at the corners as you rode him.  

"No," his voice commanded you softly. You felt his hand travel up from your thigh to rest on your face, thumb brushing against the apple of your cheek. 

Regardless of his verbal command, you continued your quickened pace: the heat of your walls sucking in his shaft at the same elevated rhythm you set earlier. 

He was yet to climax, and you had been at this for hours. He had your peak rise and fall for the upteenth time by his lips, tongue, thigh and fingers: each time, the lights dancing behind your eyes and the soft call of his name cried from your lips. 

You were desperate for him to cum. You wanted to have him share in the same bliss he had offered you so many times earlier today, the shoots of his seed buried deep within you with your name spilled as recklessly from his lips as yours did his. 

"No," he commanded once more, your relentless pace you set continued ceaselessly. You continued bouncing your body and sheathing yourself fully on his cock, feeling the twitch hitting against the top of your cervix. 

You knew he would cum like this, and you wanted him to feel his release just as he had you reach yours. You continued hastily riding him, him granting you a shuddered groan growling from between his clenched teeth. You felt him close, the small quiver of his cock depicting truly how thoroughly he was enjoying your hasty pace. Just as you felt him near his release, you expected him to fuck up into you, burying himself deeper and writhing beneath you as he came. 

Instead, his arm trailed down from your cheek, shoulder and hips: hooking around your body and holding you fully sheathed on his cock, halting your movement entirely. 

"P-Please," you whimpered, your pace fully halted by his firm arm. The twitch of his cock at your plea had you continue, "I-I-’s too much. W-Want you to feel good. P-Please Captain."

The twitch of his cock granted you the telltale sign that he halted his orgasm from shooting up into you. He lazily rolled his hips into yours, the grind of his pelvis meeting your clit and caused another cry from fleeing your lips. 

"You can take it," he whispered, rolling his hips against yours; his buried cock twitching once more, and stretching you deliciously. Your arousal coated his pubic hair and tops of his thighs, the wrap of his arm halting your every movement with the incredible strength he held you with. 

"Captain I-I-," you tried, Shanks halting your cry by sitting up while remaining still within you. You snapped your eyes open to meet his, the warm rust of his irises held a foreign emotion depicted behind them. One you had not seen for some time: overall unreadable, but not an unwelcome flavor painted on his face.

You knew you had been a tease to him earlier today. The swing of your hips, the twitch of your smirk and the looks you shot him over your shoulder were enough to warrant him clawing out climax after climax from you as punishment. Your surliness was his undoing: your refusal to acknowledge his eyes by meeting yours against them. 

As his eyes met yours now, and this new position held his cock buried deeper; his gaze no longer held that punishing brutality mixed playfulness he offered you earlier. This foreign expression you had yet seen depicted in his gaze, his words not speaking its unconfirmed intention. It was no longer the aggressive, lustful look he always threw at you during the bedroom hours, mixing with his boyish charm and humor. 

His eyes were dark, a hue of pink flushing his cheeks with a dusting of heat. Lips parted, eyes searching between yours as his breath caught in his throat. The closest you could place this expression was compared to ‘awe,’ but that was still not entirely correct. 

He began rocking you atop his lap, slow grinds of his pelvis and throbbing pulses from his cock bringing another pleasured whimper from your throat. He continued to hold your gaze, his lips parting as a slow groan fled his lips. The quiver of his jaw, the flutter of his eyelashes, and blown pupils darting its focus on your eyes held more emotion than you were used to seeing. 

"You can take it," he gasped again, "I know you can, pretty girl." You whimpered once more, feeling the slow rake of his cock pull itself out before burying it again deep within you. 

"Jus' want you to feel good. P-Please let me make you feel good," you cried once more, the swell of your exhausted tears within your eyes spurred Shanks' smile to rise against his lips. 

He halted his rocking all together, his forehead falling forward to meet against your collar bone. You cried out at his halt, desperately attempted to start your pace once more - his arm halting you by the sheer strength he held alone. 

"Just want you to cum. I’ll be so good. Please, Shanks. Please, please, please. Need it-... N-Need you-," your cries were answered by the surge of his hips and thighs propelling themselves forward, throwing your back to hit against the plush mattress. 

This small resurgence of his playfulness returning had your prior desperation for him morph into a laugh of joy - a sound mirrored by his own soft laugh. 

He propped himself up by his hand lying beside your head. As his cock slowly buried itself once more within you; mutual groans, mixed with laughter and sighs, joined together harmoniously. He sunk his weight onto your hips, his full weight halted it's descent by him angling down onto elbow beside your head. His hand began brushing your hair from your face, his playful smile never leaving his lips. 

He lunged forward, sheathing his cock completely within you and holding himself firmly there. 

His smile approached you, capturing your lips within his and brushing his tongue over your parted lips to brush against your own - his smile never leaving his lips. Pulling away his claim on your lips, he began slowly rocking his hips against yours, gasping at the feeling of your walls sucking him in further. 

"You're so desperate to feel me cum, love?" He asked you, the uptick of his voice and soft huff of laugh colliding with a sinful groan fleeing him, "You should've thought of that before behaving like a brat." 

You whimpered out a cry of bliss as his sheathed cock brushed with your g-spot, the slow, rhythmic slap of his hips colliding deeply with yours slowly echoing once more within the room. 

"No, love," he growled into your ear, successfully caging you beneath him with the hover of his body, "No. You don't get to feel me cum until I bring out another two from you. No cry of mercy or relentless fucking up into me will have me cum in you-." 

You cried as a particularly harsh snap of his hips had his weight topple down onto you. His pace quickened, the wind of the coil within your stomach began its tightening once more. 

The feel of being completely trapped beneath the weight of his body, the only movement breaking your entrapment away from his body was the small rise and fall of his hips harshly fucking into you slowly and deliberately. 

You groaned, arching your back and writhing as you felt your toes and fingertips begin to quiver at the approach of your climax. Shanks chuckled into your shoulder, his teeth slowly clamping down on the tender flesh and soothing over the bite with his tongue. 

"That's it, pretty girl," he complimented you, slowly picking up the pace of his thrusting, "You've finally realized, huh?" You whimpered, the depth of his cock brushing up against you and the pick up of his pace held your mind fuzzy and jaw slack.

"You're stuck," he growled against you, "And you're going to remain helpless and stuck through two more before I cum in you. Make no mistake, love-..." he continued to elevate his pace, the depth of his cock sinking into you brutally. 

"I will cum for you, pretty girl," his promise felt hot in your ear, scorching you as his gaze did earlier in the evening, "But not until I make you scream for me two more times."

You whimpered, the slow and deep pace he set now deliberately scraping against the tender spot within you. This new set of rhythm had your lips parting and walls condensing and squeezing against his cock. He huffed a small grunt against your ear, eyes rolling at the feeling. Wrapping your legs over his hips, you keened into his shoulder at the slow intwine of another elevation of your approaching climax. 

“There you go. Atta girl. I can feel how close you are,” He struck you with his cock, repetitively hitting the sensitive part by hooking his cock expertly within you, “C’mon now, pretty little thing. Let me hear you cry out for me.” You scrunch your eyes tightly shut, feeling the familiar buzz starting within your toes behind his back. 

Slowly pulling away his hips from your own, resheathing his cock back into you deliberately had your walls shifting and quivering for him as you cried his name through your bliss. He claimed another orgasm from you, the tears beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes by how tightly you clenched them shut. He pulled his face away from your shoulder, huffing in your ear before glancing at your face contorted in pleasure. 

“No, no, no, pretty girl. Open your eyes,” he slumped on his elbow, soothing over forehead and removing the hair stuck to your brow. You shook your head, physically unable to open your eyes as he shepherded you through your bliss. “Hey, hey. Open. Now.” You arched your back, your head falling away from his as you kept your eyes shut. 

“Alright then,” he uttered, feeling your high fall as you regained some semblance of your consciousness back through panting and deeply sighing. Your momentary calm was seized by the storm raging within Shanks, him unsheathing his cock from you and throwing you over his right shoulder and walking towards the tall mirror. The bob of his hard cock from each step he took had a proud smile on his face and a chuckle fleeing from his lips. 

Unceremoniously, he placed your feet back onto the ground, facing the mirror and lined his cock back up with your quivering and overstimulated hole. 

“This is what you get for being a brat and not listening, pretty girl,” he laughed into your shoulder, immediately surging forward and plunging his cock deep within you, “Keep your eyes open and watch.” 

He hooked his arm around your right hip, claiming your left hip bone beneath his palm and anchoring himself against you. Kicking your feet to part further, you had no choice but to watch his face contort within the metallic, silvery reflection as he fucked into you. The cries of your voice muffled as you took your bottom lip between your teeth.

“No. You let me hear you,” Shanks’ breathy voice whispered against your skin as he pressed his cheek against your shoulder blade. He scrunched his eyes closed and focussed on your gasps, cries and moans. You obediently unclenched your teeth from your lip, brows knitting as you whined his name repeatedly and ceaselessly. 

He groaned into your skin, baring his teeth down on your flesh to silence his own whimpered growls. The quiver of your walls sucking his cock within them had Shanks opening his eyes only to roll them back into his skull at the sensation. The grip on your hip bone held on firmer, his rhythmic thrusts and grinds becoming slopier, heavier and staggered. He was so close, closer than he would ever admit to you at this moment. 

Your abdomen began to burn beneath his bruising grip, the sensation of being trapped and helpless to him using your body in this way stoked the fires into a blaze of passionate release as he chased your climax. He held your body against his, the pick up of his rhythmic thrusting within the security of his arm had your lips parting. Your overstimulated and fucked-out expression within the mirror had Shanks chasing the spots that had you crying for him the loudest.

“Good job keeping your eyes open, pretty girl,” he praised you, his tone prompting a high whimper to pass from your parted lips. The slaps of slickened thighs and hips became louder and heavier; Shanks now opting to no longer pull all the way out of you while chasing his own high. His knob brushed its shined tip against the back of your quivering and tingling walls, your cervix being kissed with each deep thrust. You cried out for him, standing on the tops of your toes and arching your back for him to get a better angle with his cock sheathed within you.

“You better c-cum,” He stuttered against your shoulder. The hitch in his breath and the whimper within his tone alerted you that he was once again so close to his climax. He continued to chase your release, but was unable to fully tip you over the edge just like this. 

“Play with your clit,” he ordered you, watching you over your shoulder as your dominant hand sought your firm, leaking bud. “Th-That’s it-... nghm-... That’s my girl. Play with yourself while you take my cock. Little circles, pretty girl. Little circles while I fuck you through it.” You had no choice but to listen, your fingertips brushing with your aching clit while exhaustion overtook you. 

“Good girl,” he whined into your ear, his eyes meeting with yours while he watched you obediently play with your clit while he stuffed you roughly with his cock. Just his expression alone would’ve made you cum: his brows tilted up, pupils blown with list as his jaw hung slack. But the overstimulation was too much for you to continue. You whined, unable to push yourself over the edge for him as he requested you. 

“Don’t you dare stop,” he growled, watching as your hand began to halt its ministrations against your aching clit. “Make me proud, little thing. Cum on my cock and I’ll let you have mine. C’mon pretty girl. Cum on my cock again. J-Just like you did before. Cum for me, cum for me-.”

“A-Ah, Shanks!” you cried in bliss, his voice falling from your open mouth like a scream. Your arousal gushed around his cock as you came for him, your walls attempting to milk his cock of the precum he began to paint you with. 

“G-Good girl. Such a good girl,” he praised you, continuing his bruising pace while you watched him huff out his own cries of bliss, “Now you’ll get my cum. I-I’m-...mmff-... O-Oh, I’m cumming. I’m cumming for you. F-Fuck.” Ropes of his long withheld load splashed within you, the sheer force and amount prompting your shiny juices to pool down your legs as you both cried for one another. He roared your name, biting your shoulder with the clamp of his teeth over your flesh. 

As he rode you through your highs, tears began to pool down your cheeks at the sheer relief of earning his orgasm. You sobbed, body falling limp as he carried you back to the bed. He unsheathed his cock from you and caged you beneath his body, searching your face for any issue that ignited this release of emotion.

“Are you okay, love? Did I hurt you? What did I do?” he asked, wiping a tear with his thumb as you met his eyes with your own. You shook your head, angling your chin away from the brush of his thumb and pressing a small kiss against the pad of the shorter digit. He gasped, his boyish smile returning to his face while his eyes held that unfamiliar expression within them. He huffed out a breath, soothing over your hair as he whispered into your face.

“I am so in love with you, pretty girl. My pretty girl,” he confessed, closing his eyes and nudging your chin with his forehead. Your lips parted in shock, this being the first time either of you uttered the words remaining unspoken between you. You attempted to find the words to speak back to him, your voice cracking harshly from the amount of cries he pulled from you in your bliss.

“You don’t have to say it, love. I know, I know,” he confessed further, leaning up to press a firm kiss against your forehead. “You just lay back and relax while I clean up our mess, alright?” 

You weakly nodded, laying back completely against the mattress as exhaustion overcame your body. Sleep claimed you, soft and deep breaths propelling each moment for more rest to find you. 

As Shanks returned to your place on the bed, he sighed at the beautiful picture you made painted against his sheets. His pretty girl was all tired from the amount of times he made you cum, exhausted with the softest rise of heat within your cheeks. 

The next time you felt inadequate and undeserving of such treatment and attention, he would be so glad to provide you with the reminder of your importance in his life. He began to look forward to a longer and more worshipful way of showing you how much he truly loved you, and only you. 

He began cleaning up the mess he made of your bodies, maneuvering a warm cloth over every mark and splash of fluids and hungry kisses. He dried your body with a plush towel before tucking you into the bedsheets, crawling in them behind you and lacing his right arm over your hip and pulling you closer. 

“I love you,” he whispered against your neck, you stirring slightly within your slumber, “And I’ll happily remind you of how much I do any time you think I don’t.”

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