#i arguably got carried away with the word count

[valleydean]

Huckleberry

Summary: A cursed object sends Dean and Cas back in time to Tombstone, Arizona -- but Cas’ vessel gets left behind. (Aka, the one where Cas takes Doc Holliday as a vessel and Dean has a ball in this bitch.) Word Count: 14.6k Basically, I saw this tweet and went absolutely buckwild. Enjoy.

Read on AO3.

This wasn’t Dean’s fault. If anything, it was Sam’s. If Sam hadn’t made them catalog the contents of the bunker’s storage unit while he took the night off to have dinner with Eileen in the first place, none of this would have happened. So what, if Dean had tried to make it go faster by piling a bunch of the objects in a box and bringing it into the Dean Cave? So what, if Dean turned on Tombstone to keep him and Cas entertained? It wasn’t like he’d planned on Cas picking up some cursed object that – apparently – sent them back in time.

Or, at least, it had sent Dean back in time. Because, for the second time in his life, he found himself standing on the dusty dirt road of some Wild West town.

The blistering sun baked the desert earth, filling the dry air with the pungent stink of the horses and mules that slowly led the creaking wooden rigs down the street. A woman in a long-sleeve dress that was buttoned fully to her neck marshaled a flock of children down the boarded sidewalks, passing a couple of men sitting in the shaded overhang in front of one of the saloons. The men’s hats were hanging from their knees, revealing their sweat-glistened hair. One of them hacked into the spittoon as soon as the woman’s back was to them. Across the street, a man was sweeping the sidewalk in front of a set of batwing doors, and Dean figured it must have been pretty early, because there wasn’t anyone coming in or out of the saloon.

Not that the time of day was his focus at the moment, since he had some other pretty important time-related concerns. But first thing’s first: Where the hell was Cas?

The last thing Dean remembered, they were sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the TV, a bunch of ancient relic shit between them and an open notebook resting beside Dean’s knee. On screen, Wyatt Earp was pulling Johnny Tyler out of the Oriental Saloon by the ear. Cas had picked something up: a silver locket that dangled by a tarnished chain. Brows furrowed, he’d pried the thing open before Dean even realized what was happening. Cas had given a loud groan of pain – practically a shout – and the bright blue-white light of his grace erupted in his eyes. Dean had launched himself forward on reflex and snatched the locket out of Cas’ hand. Next thing he knew, he was here. Wherever here was.

And Cas wasn’t.

Dean looked down at the locket clenched in his fist. His heart was clogging his throat, and every time he blinked, he saw the image of Cas’ exploding grace tattooed behind his eyelids. What if Cas was dead, his wings burned forever into the floor of the TV room? What if he was gone and Dean was trapped in the past?

First thing’s first, Dean reminded himself, and categorically forced himself not to jump to the worst-case scenario – even though it was pretty easy to do. He wound up the locket’s chain and shoved it into his pocket, deciding to get his bearings before he figured out anything else.

He brought his eyes up, taking a closer look at the town of wood and adobe structures. The men were still sitting in chairs on the sidewalk; someone was hitching their horse to a post; a guy with a bushy, walrus mustache and a tin star on his vest was walking down the street – and it was weird, but he looked familiar. Dean rattled his head and looked away, trying not to make eye contact with the guy, because no matter who he was, he was a cop. His eyes fell on the man sweeping, and for the first time, he noticed what the decal on the plate glass window behind him read.

The Oriental Saloon.

Dean froze.

“No way.”

Quickly, he looked across the street at the saloon the men were sitting in front of. The Crystal Palace. A few doors up, there was the storefront for the Epitaph newspaper.

Dean’s chest swelled with excitement and, even though he was totally screwed, he couldn’t help the laugh that puffed out of him.

The man with the tin star wasn’t just any old cop. He was US Marshal and Chief of Police, Virgil Earp, Wyatt Earp’s brother. And Dean wasn’t just in any old Wild West town. He was in Tombstone.

“Cas, you better be here to see this,” Dean breathed out, and when his own words processed, his smile faded.

Cas couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t dead. Dean just needed to find him. Then, they could both get home – after getting their fill of Tombstone, of course.

Dean walked toward the Oriental, figuring it was as good a place as any to start the Cas search. He pushed through the batwing doors, hearing them flap satisfyingly closed behind him. There were only a few people in the saloon, the majority of them sitting around a baize-lined faro table as the dealer shuffled the cards. The saloonkeeper had finished sweeping. He was now behind the bar, wiping down the polished wood with a rag. Dean watched himself approach in the mirror behind the bottles of whiskey.

The owner glanced up. If Dean’s history was right – and, duh, it was right – the guy’s name was Milt Joyce.

“Morning,” Joyce said, slapping the rag over his shoulder. He leaned into the bar. His gaze flickered up and down Dean’s person, a funny look forming on his face, and Dean realized for the first time that he wasn’t exactly blending. “What can I do for you?”

Dean eyed the whiskey. Last time he’d traveled back in time to the west, the stuff had tasted worse than rubbing alcohol. He wondered if he should get a shot anyway, just to calm his nerves. But it’s not like he had any money on him.

Licking his lips in an attempt to quell the fluttering of his heart, he said, “Uh, actually, I’m looking for somebody. Thought he may have passed through here. Any chance you saw a guy about this tall –” he leveled his palm, indicating an inch shorter than his own height. “Dark hair? Ugly-ass tan coat?”

Joyce pulled a thoughtful face and shook his head. “Can’t say I have.” Dean tried not to let that get to him. It was a longshot, anyway. Cas could be anywhere. “You check with the marshal’s office?”

The idea wasn’t half bad. Dean could go back outside and have a chat with Virgil. Hell, maybe Wyatt and Morgan would even pitch in. Some of the giddiness returning to him, Dean said, “Thanks. And, uh, if he does come in here – can you let ‘im know Dean’s looking for him?”

Off Joyce’s nod, Dean turned and walked out of the saloon. He squinted up and down the street, trying to catch sight of Virgil Earp, but he was gone. Dean’s eyes lit upon the intersection with Allen Street, and he wondered if Virgil turned down there. He might have even been walking in the direction of the OK Corral.

And, while Dean was looking for him – and for Cas – he might as well do some sightseeing.

After ambling a block down Allen, the swinging wooden sign for the corral came into view, and the gross horse smell only grew until Dean’s eyes were practically watering. The high wooden gate to the corral opened, and a horse was being led out by the reins, a brunette man in a long coat tugging it along. Dean did a double take, stopping short, his boots scuffing against the dust, sending a coughing cloud around his ankles. It wasn’t Cas. The coat was too dark, the build was all wrong.

Dean exhaled, his shoulders dropping despondently. Try as he might, the creeping sensation that Cas was gone hollowed him out. Without really seeing them at all, he watched the man and the horse walk off, his thoughts spinning. He was in Tombstone, and all he could think about was Cas.

Because what the hell good was any of this if he didn’t get to educate Cas on the history of the place? Who would he drag all around town, from one future-tourist-trap to the next? Who’d start the movie over with him once they got home so he could compare the set to the real thing? Who’d humor Dean by allowing all of that with only mild complaining? Nobody except Cas.

The words kicked up a whirlwind inside Dean’s head. Somehow, they made sense of the warm feeling in his chest that he’d been experiencing for – well, fuck, years.

Nobody except Cas.

Despair and determination pulled his heart in different directions as he walked closer to the pen surrounding the corral and folded his arms atop one of the wooden slats. He scanned the area, eyes catching on the boxy building in the next lot over. C.S. Fly’s Photography Gallery was painted in giant curving letters on the false front. Then, he turned his attention to the stable, the sign overhead casting a shadow over his face, advertising the name that wasn’t yet famous. Wasn’t yet in the history books. And Dean wished he could have mustered a little more excitement about this.

Next time he saw Cas, he was gonna punch him for ruining this for him.

“C’mon, man,” he muttered. It felt more like a prayer, and maybe it was one.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw someone walk around from the other side of the photo gallery. A tall shadow stretched across the bleached dirt.

“Dean.”

The voice wasn’t familiar. It was low and raspy yet honey-slow, dripping in a sweet Southern twang, the kind that left the taste of peaches on the tongue. Dean startled, his body going rigid and fingers itching toward his empty waistband, where his Colt should have been if he hadn’t been expecting a quiet night in with his buddy. He sized up the man in front of him – the swoop of ashy blonde hair that parted to the right, the fair mustache over a light brush of freckles, the sharp gray-blue eyes that looked as if they could see right through Dean. Slender in build, the guy was wearing a perfectly tailored gray suit, polished boots, and gray bow tie in the collar of his pastel blue shirt.

Dean’s heart skipped, and then it’d never beat so fast in his life. Because he knew this guy from extensive Googling. He looked nothing like Val Kilmer.

“You’re Doc Holliday,” he burst out before he could stop himself. He could practically feel his eyes twinkling. Catching himself, he tried to reel it in by clearing his throat before he could say something else stupid. Something along the lines of I’m your biggest fan.

Doc took a step closer, his long and skinny legs closing the space between them. He was a few inches shorter than Dean, which was jarring. In Dean’s imagination, he was a giant.

“For the time being,” he said, and Dean had no idea what that meant for a second. It dawned on him half a second before he was told, “It’s me, Dean.”

Maybe Dean should have figured that out right away, since there was no way the Doc Holliday would know Dean’s name. Still, his brain short circuited. Wide-eyed, he took another sweeping look up and down the person in front of him.

“Cas?”

Cas used Doc Holliday’s head to nod.

Dean was still having a hard time processing. “You’re riding Doc Holliday?”

“Temporarily,” Cas clarified. “When we were sent here, my vessel remained in the bunker. I didn’t want to take another one, but it was the only way to talk to you.”

Dean shook his head. “Okay, so you go for one of the most famous guys in town?”

Cas sighed in exasperation, and Dean was struck by just how familiar it was. Apparently, Cas was still Cas no matter what vessel he was in. “He was… in pain.” He reached into his trouser pockets and pulled out a handkerchief. The clean white was speckled with fresh red. “It’s his illness.” Tuberculous. It was the thing that would eventually kill him. “He was reluctant to let me in at first. He… took some convincing. I offered to heal him.”

Dean sucked in a breath, about to ask if that would mess with some space-time continuum shit, but then Cas added, “Not permanently, but I managed to repair enough damage to his lungs to buy him at least five more years of life.”

Dean figured he’d need it for everything that was about to happen.

An amazed breath forced its way out of Dean’s throat as the information sunk in. “Dude. You’re Doc Holliday. This is awesome!”

“Dean, focus,” Cas snipped, and it was still a little weird hearing him talking with that voice, with its Southern twang and ever so slight lisp. It was so unlike his real voice – or, well, Jimmy Novak’s voice. Still, there was something about it. Little hints of Cas just underneath. Dean was glad he was there, and not dead.

“Right, yeah,” Dean said, pulling on his mouth. “So, what the hell happened? Last thing I remember is you opening up that locket…”

Cas nodded. “Yeah, it must have been cursed.”

“Ya think?”

“It did something to my grace. I think I may be the one who sent us back in time. I must have taken us here because of the movie.”

“Well, can you get us back?”

“I don’t know.” He pressed his lips together in a forlorn line, his eyes, the wrong shade of blue, becoming apologetic. “Time travel is difficult. I don’t want us to risk us getting separated.”

Dean scoffed, because he couldn’t agree more.

“I tried praying to Jack. He may be able to bring us home, but I – I dunno. I don’t know if he can hear me,” Cas said, tone laden with anxiety in the way that always put Dean in mama bear mode.

“Look, we’ll figure it out,” he said, sounding more confident than he felt. An idea striking him, he reached into his jeans and pulled out the locket. “What about this? You think it’s still got any juice in it?”

“Maybe.” Cas plucked the locket from him with long, delicate fingers. He turned it over, frowning down at it unsurely. “Should we… open it?”

That sounded like a pretty stupid idea, but it was the only one they had. “Well, I figure it’ll either send us home or it’ll dump us somewhere else in time. You’re the gambler.”

Cas shot him an unimpressed glare, and Dean couldn’t help the shit-eating grin that stretched onto his cheeks.

“Fine,” Cas said, holding the locket in two hands. “Hold on to me in case this works. I don’t want to lose you.”

Dean knew what he meant by that, but the words still passed through Dean like a steel blade. He fought them down with a hard swallow, ignoring the voice in his head that wished he’d heard Cas say that in his normal voice.

He raised his hand and clapped it to Cas’ shoulder, hanging on tight. Holding his breath, he watched as Cas opened the locket.

And nothing happened.

There weren’t even pictures inside.

Dean huffed and let his hand fall down Cas’ arm. “Well, that was a bust.”

“We’ll have to find something else.” Cas looked at Dean, expression pinched in confusion. “Do you think there are any witches here that could help us?” As if Dean could possibly answer that question.

“Hang on, let me Google Maps it,” he droned.

Cas rolled his eyes and handed the locket back to Dean. Dean wrapped the chain around his fingers and dropped it back into his pocket.

From down the street, a cheerful voice called, “Doc! Hey, Doc!”

Both their gazes whipped toward the grinning man jogging up to them. He had a mop of sandy-brown hair on his head, and his mustache drooped past his upturned lips. Dean’s breath caught. His eyes snapped to Cas, wanting to share in the excitement, but judging from the stiff look on Cas’ face, he had no idea that they were being approached by another Earp brother.

“Hey, Doc,” Morgan Earp said when he came to stop in front of them. Still a little out of breath, he said, “Was coming to knock on your door. Didn’t expect to find you already up. It’s only 11:30.” He laughed merrily and clapped Cas on the back, rocking Cas’ thin frame in the unexpected friendly gesture.

“Uh,” Cas said, wooden and stilted. He was practically a deer in the headlights.

Morgan didn’t seem to notice. His attention fell to Dean. “Who’s your friend?”

“Dean,” Dean said before Cas could mess this up by speaking. He held out his hand. “Dean Winchester.”

“Nice to meet ya. Name’s Morgan Earp,” Morgan said, his hand warm and welcoming when he shook Dean’s it.

Cas finally managed to catch on. “Morgan Earp,” he said. “Of course. From Tombstone.”

Dean wilted.

Morgan shot Cas a skeptical look before seeming to decide it didn’t matter. “Anyway, sorry to interrupt, but it’s kinda urgent. Virg got some reports of some funny business in the Dragoons. Figured he’s gotta fulfill his US Marshal duties by checking it out. Asked us to come with.”

“What kinda funny business?” Dean asked.

Morgan shrugged. “Not sure. A group of cowpokers came in to report it, but they didn’t make much sense. Sounds like somebody slaughtered a bunch of cattle coming up from Texas.”

Dean’s stomach soured. He shared a heavy look at Cas, who seemed to be thinking the same thing. Cattle mutilation was a demonic omen, but it usually didn’t happen while the cattle were on the move.

“You need an extra set of hands?” Dean asked, because these lawmen might have been legendary, but they were still just cops. That meant they had no idea what they were really up against.

“Sure,” Morgan said. He turned, waving for them to follow. “C’mon. We’re meeting up with Wyatt before heading out.”

Instantly, Dean’s concern turned to exuberance. He shot another glance at Cas, whose eyes were already waiting for him, looking at him with a raised brow. Dean was practically panting like a dog waiting for its owner to throw a stick. He bounded after Morgan.

Morgan led them back down Allen. He chatted the entire way, talking about the card game he was in the night before, and how it was a “shame you weren't there, Doc. You woulda swept up.” Cas was as stiff as ever, barely even nodding in response, but Morgan seemed content to talk enough for the both of them. Dean hung on his every word.

In fact, he was so wrapped up in the story, he barely noticed what storefront they were walking into until Cas stopped walking and asked dubiously, “Your brother is in an ice cream parlor?”

Dean blinked, looking at the decal on the glass window set into the door. He’d expected Morgan to bring them into a saloon or the sheriff’s office or something.

Morgan laughed casually. “You know Wyatt,” he said in the same teasing little brother tone Sam always used, “gotta get his scoop a day.” He pulled open the door, leading them in.

Dean hovered in the threshold for a second, looking at Cas over his shoulder. “Too bad Jack’s not here.” The kid was an ice cream fanatic. More than once, Dean caught him in the kitchen past his bedtime, eating the stuff right from the tub.

Don't tell, Jack would always say.

Give me another spoon and you got yourself a deal, Dean would respond.

Cas gave Dean a soft smile at the mention of Jack, the kind that always caused a swoop in Dean’s chest that he could never decide was akin to falling or flying. It looked a little different on Doc Holliday’s face, though. It made something pluck at Dean’s heart.

He missed Cas’ old vessel.

Sure it was still Cas inside there, which was the most important part. But Dean couldn't help but feel like something was missing. Maybe it was the touch of him under Dean’s hand. It was too different.

He’d get Cas into the right vessel again. He'd get Cas – both of them – home. But first…

Dean ran his hand through his hair to make sure he looked acceptable and followed Morgan inside the parlor. It looked almost exactly like a saloon, except, instead of a bar, there were tubs of ice cream packed into ice in a display case. A soda machine sat next to the antique register. The woman behind the counter gave Morgan a wave hello, which he offered back jovially, before he bee-lined to a table toward the back of the room.

And there he was: Wyatt Earp.

He was just sitting there at the table, like he wasn't the coolest person who ever lived. His narrow blue eyes scanned the open newspaper drooping from one hand to the table. His other hand was propped on the table next to a delicate saucer with melting strawberry ice cream. A silver spoon was pinched between his fingers. His long legs were crossed under the table, a rugged hat on his knee – perched precariously, but with the confidence of a man who knew not even an inanimate object would go against his orders.

Old pictures digitized and put on the internet didn't do his steely, commanding presence justice. Hell, they didn't even do the mustache justice!

Virgil sat across from him, wrapped up in his own newspaper.

Morgan strolled up to them like it was the most casual thing in the world.

“Morg,” Wyatt greeted without looking up. The sound of his voice was no-nonsense and to-the-point and totally All-American. “Good of you to join us.”

“Picked up a couple of strays on my way over,” Morgan said.

Finally, Wyatt lifted his eyes. They latched onto Cas first, lingering for just a second, barely enough time to give away the flash of pleasure in them before he nodded curtly. But Dean caught it. He always did when someone looked at Cas like that. Normally, it set his teeth on edge, even if he tried to hide it. He just didn't know why it raised his hackles in this case, but he didn't have time to figure it out before Wyatt’s attention moved to him.

Because, then the only thing Dean could think was, Holy shit. That's Wyatt Earp.

“Who’s this?” Wyatt asked, still scrutinizing Dean.

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but all he did was gap like a teen girl at a One Direction concert.

“I saw you heading into the Oriental not too long ago,” Virgil observed. Dean didn’t think anyone had been paying attention to him when he first arrived, but he guessed he’d been wrong. Now, Virgil was assessing him again, frowning at Dean’s clothes – and Dean really needed to change. No wonder he stuck out like a sore thumb. “Haven’t seen you around here. You new in town?”

“You could say that,” Dean answered, finding his voice. He looked at Wyatt and did his damndest to control his face. “Name’s Dean Winchester. I’m a…” He couldn’t say he was a marshal or else they’d ask to see his badge. Thinking quickly, he decided on, “Special Agent for Wells Fargo. Heard there was trouble outside town and figured I’d lend a hand.”

The brothers nodded, seeming to accept it well enough.

“Well, Mr. Winchester, this here’s my brother, Virgil,” Wyatt said, his newspaper rustling as he folded it up. “I’m Wyatt Earp.”

Dean couldn’t help the giddy rush that shot through him. “I know.” Wyatt looked at him sharply, so it was apparently the wrong thing to say. Trying to hide his flush of embarrassment, he amended, “I mean… everyone knows who you are, don’t they?”

Wyatt’s gaze was steady.

Morgan broke the tension with, “Jeez, Doc. Where’d you find this one?”

Cas tilted his head slightly. “I’ve known Dean for years.”

Dean's eyes wearily fell closed. Luckily, no one seemed to question it. Wyatt stood up and picked up his black duster draped over the back of his chair. “Good. We could use as many trustworthy men as we can get.”

Dean brightened again, because he was pretty stoked to hear Wyatt Earp call him trustworthy. He ignored the fact that he’d just lied to the guy’s face.

Slipping into his coat, Wyatt said, “Looks like we better rent some horses and move out.”

“You giving the orders now, Wyatt?” Virgil deadpanned, folding up his newspaper.

“Always am, Virg,” was the answer, and Dean honestly didn’t know if that was a joke or not.

When the Earp brothers walked toward the exit, Dean spun around, eager to follow. Cas stopped him by grabbing onto his sleeve and pulling him back. “Dean,” he whispered urgently. “We don’t have time for this. We should be figuring out how to get home.”

He was right. Dean knew he was right. Longingly, he cast another long look at the Earps.

Screw it, he decided. He was going on a ride with the Earps. He deserved it. Besides, they were time traveling, which technically meant they had all the time in the world.

“Dude, come on,” Dean said, keeping his voice down. “When are we ever gonna get a chance like this again?” Cas gave him a level look, and even on a different face, Dean knew what that meant. Trying to convince him, Dean gestured out wildly with his hands and added, “Plus, for all we know, this could help us get home!”

“How?”

“I dunno! But cattle mutilations? Could be demony. And, who knows, maybe this is even our mess to clean up. We got no idea what kinda curse is on that locket. Maybe something followed us here.”

Cas pinched his lips, still seeming on the fence. “This isn’t a good idea, Dean. Those men… They’re his friends.” He gestured toward himself, really indicating Doc Holliday. “Won’t they suspect something?”

Admittedly, it was a good point, but Dean wasn’t about to let that ruin this. They could find a way around it. “You’ll be fine. You’ve seen that movie like, a million times. Just… act.”

“You mean, lie?”

“Same thing,” Dean said airily. He placed his hand firmly on Cas’ shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You got this. Agent Kilmer, remember?”

Cas sighed, still clearly not liking this plan. But he nodded, because of course he did. Because Cas always humored him. “Fine.”

Dean grinned, keeping Cas’ eyes. They turned fond, a small smile glinting in them. Dean felt the light of it spreading in his chest.

“You coming or what?” a stern voice called from the doorway.

The moment broken, Dean turned his head to the exit, finding Wyatt frowning in their direction. Dean cleared his throat and let his hand fall from Cas’ shoulder. He took a step back, putting some space between them.

“We’re coming,” Cas said.

Wyatt lingered momentarily, looking between the two of them, before turning around again. The ends of his coat fanned out around his shins.

“Guess we better not keep the man waiting,” Dean said.

Cas nodded. Then, as if Dean had said something he didn’t understand, his brow pinched.

Dean pulled a face. “What?”

“Nothing,” Cas said, shaking his head. “It’s… Doctor Holliday. He said something about a deacon who lacked the virtue of patience.”

He meant Wyatt. Wyatt was a church deacon, and Dean knew that because of the whole biggest fan thing. But he was still thrown off. “He said that? When?”

“Now,” Cas told him. “That was one of the stipulations of our deal. I’m allowing him to be aware of everything that’s happening.”

It probably shouldn’t have surprised Dean. After what happened with Jimmy and Claire, Cas was probably more than reluctant to take another vessel. No wonder he’d given this one room to breathe.

Still, Dean’s skin crawled as he remembered the way Michael let him be aware of everything. It was hell, being trapped in his own body, watching his own hands bend to Michael’s will. It was worse than hell – and Dean would know.

But Cas wasn’t like that. Cas wasn’t a dick. He was sure Doc was alright, so he let it go.

“Can he hear us right now?”

Cas nodded.

“Heh.” Dean wasn’t really sure what to say. It was a little weird, talking to Doc Holliday through Cas. But Dean’s whole life was weird, so this might as well happen. “Hi, uh… Doc. Hey. I’m…”

His mind formed coherent sentences. Something along the lines of, Thanks for letting my friend hitch a ride. We’ll be sure to give you your body back soon.

What came out was: “Big fan.”

Damn it, he was an idiot.

Without waiting around to humiliate himself even more, he turned tail and headed after the Earps.

Read the rest on AO3.

#destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #dean #dean winchester #cas #castiel #my writing #docholliday #doc holliday #wyatt earp #wyattearp #spn #supernatural #spn fic #docatt #i arguably got carried away with the word count

[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

[ioniansunsets]

I JUST FOUND YOUR BLOG AND OMG

hey imma need that confession Heartsteel Kayn moment yannoooo… fr all I’ve been thinking about 😳😳😳

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Confessing ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.2k

✖ Tags: Awkward Confessions

✖ A/N: Reader here is just someone who works at his studio! He met you as Heartsteel slowly begun to start out and get ready for debut. Also writing this with that one ask about him writing a song about this exact moment in mind. Heehee!

I was reading some fanfics on my side and got filled with so much adrenaline and emotions I spat this out. I got very very very carried away writing this. I hope its not too OOC. Thank you for asking for this, I couldn't stop thinking about writing it.

----

It sucked. It fucking sucked. The way his heart raced when you were near.

The loud thumping against his chest. He hated it.

He hated how vulnerably and un-badass it made him feel. How the high he got from you rivaled that of the stage.

How your voice played over and over in his mind more than any melody he knew. How your laughter made his knees weak. It made Him. Weak!

He hated. He loathed. He grunts in frustration as he rocks out hard on his guitar. Fingers picking at the strings, a sick solo riff but it was for no one but himself.

Oh, how he did arguably stupider things than usual when he saw you watching. Showing off to you he jumped off a stage once. Which is not too far off from usual but it was to no audience! It was during a practice run! He did it just to flex to you that he was cool! Fucking embarrassing to remember but he did! All because you were standing nearby! How could you do such a thing to him!

The absolute frustration he was filled with. Not pent up rage, not a craving for violence and destruction, but affection? Undeniable. Overflowing. Drowning and choking him. Affection!

He finally threw his guitar on the ground. Breathing heavy. Hands running through his hair to push away the hair that has fell to his face in his little jam session. Hands wiping away the sweat. No matter how long he played, how fast his fingers pressed the strings, how frantically he strummed away. How he still played, chipping his painted nails when he slips up and drops his pick. The loud music of his electric guitar couldn't drown out the high BPM beat of his heart going off in his ears. The mental image of you smiling and waving at him every time he shows up. The tingle in his fingertips imagining himself holding you.

Swallowing hard, he storms out of the studio. He was at his fucking limit and refused to deal with this flip flop of emotions any longer. A cold shower. He calms down. Tomorrow. At the studio when he goes in to record. He'll find you then. He'll go early before the rest of the band gets there. He'll get this done and over with. Enough hours were spent being a mess about you. He was going to get this done! Tossing and turning in bed for hours he finally falls asleep. Tomorrow, he'll confess.

xxxx

The next day came soon enough. Making sure he looked good, makeup on, hair styled nicely, a sexy ass outfit with his deliciously sculpted abs out. Not the usual for when he goes to the studio but if he was going to be confessing? Perfect. Yes he was perfect in his own eyes but still, his heart raced. Small whispers of Rhaast in his mind, telling him they might reject him, that he was someone that needed nobody, he shouldn't go up to them and say anything, the frustration was so good for his music! But still, he walked on. Boots hitting the floor at the same pace of his rapidly beating heart as he walks up to you. You heard him before you saw him, the thump of his boots echoing closer and closer.

" Hey!"

He cringes internally, the hell was that greeting. Hey? Just hey?! He smiles. Cocky as usual. Face never betraying his emotions, yeah he was cool like that. The shaking of his hands held back as he puts them in his pockets. Its alright, he looked cool. Just like that, hands in his pockets fiddling with his phone as he leans against the wall to talk to you.

" Can I talk to you a bit before I go and record stuff?"

Oh gods you smiled and nodded. His heart fluttered. His expression, involuntary, visibly lighting up. The way your smile just made him smile so bright back. He takes a deep breath.

" I uh...I love you."

He spat it out. It wasn't cool. It wasn't sexy. It was a choked out confession. Heart racing, palms now sweaty in his pockets, still shaking. Hells, shaking More now. His breath heavy as he tries to keep the anxiety at bay. A feeling of stage fright he never felt before. Suddenly hitting him. You look at him, face slowly getting more flushed as you process the sudden confession.

" I hate it but I've fallen head over heels for you. I'm a fucking wreck. You ruin me."

Kayn runs his hands through his hair, a habit to calm himself down. His eyes closed as he takes a deep breath before continuing.

" You genuinely make my time here at the studio fun, your presence is chaotic and calming at the same time. I want to be with you. I want us to be a thing. You already know me, you've seen the me on stage during practice, off stage when I record lines, you've seen Rhaast go all out and you still choose to be around me. I want you more than anything I've ever wanted."

He looks at you now, a calm stare. Lips pursed in a tight line. Swallowing hard. His nerves somehow finding solace in letting out all his feelings that were pent up over the month or two since you got to know each other. You laugh, gods your laugh. He's giddy. You tell him you love him too. He smiles.

A pause as he suddenly stands up straight. You tell him you love him too?

" Wait haha what? Really?"

He was amazing of course you'd say yes but still, there was that tiny part of him that was worried. You liked him back? You Love him? The amazing you! The you that shone like a sun in his frustrating days of endless work as a rockstar. You! He was fucking Elated. Arms immediately around you, a tight hug as he lets out a sigh. Breath he didn't even realize he was holding until now. His arms still shaking a little as he held you.

" Can I kiss you. Right now? I-"

Kayn doesn't even finish his sentence, the moment you nod his lips are on yours, passionate. Hands threading through your hair as he holds your head gently. Holding you against him. His free hand around your waist, supporting you as much as he was supporting himself from falling apart at your touch. How he loved you, the smell of your hair so close to him now, the taste of your lips on his, the feeling of your soft delectable lips on his. How warm you were in his hands, how faint your breath on his face. He was in love. He was in Love.

As he pulls apart. He takes another deep breath. The way you left him literally breathless. Fuck. This was an excitement he never felt before. Never has a kiss left him feeling so...good? Never has a hug left him literally shaking with excitement. You were special and now you were his.

" You're so fucking perfect you know that?"

He laughs shakily. A hand rising, trembling as he lightly touches his lips. Still in disbelief. He loves you. Undeniably. Overwhelmingly. The storm of emotions he held for the past, who knows how long, now a summer breeze filling his chest with a warmth he doesn't remember ever feeling. He loves you.

#Also from personal experience as I too jumped off a stage once to an empty audience for a flex. #I sprained my ankle after but it was cool. Kayn would do that I can see it happening. #Anon Answer #My heart was racing as i wrote this #i was shaking too #so i made kayn shake too #heehee #SO MANY EMOTIOSN #I LOVE LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #Kayn x Reader #Heartsteel!Kayn #Shieda Kayn #I really outdid myself writing this #this is my new favorite answer #Kayn LoL #Kayn League #KaynLeague #Kayn League of Legends #SCENARIOS #Shieda Kayn x Reader #im ruined i love this so much and i fucking wrote it lmao #League of Legends Scenarios #league of legends imagines #oh i love him i love him #to hold him close and tell him he is worthy of love that is hard and fast that leaves him breathless and wanting #to give kayn a love like no other that is you reader. thank you for loving him. #Yuno's Favourite Answer #oops proofred to make it gn

[sc0tters]

Tied Up | Sidney Crosby

summary: when it’s the team end of season gala and you begin to run your mouth, Sidney is there to put you in your place.

request: yes/no

warnings: mature themes, p in v (unprotected), swearing, drinking, light mentions of bondage.

word count: 2.25k

authors note: just like normal the Sidney pieces are the ones where I can get carried away… no but frl I’ve been writing this one for the last few days and it makes me happy to see it out.

You seemed to want to cause trouble tonight.

It was the end of season team charity gala and you were in some pretty black dress that served as a perfect contract from the white stilettos that you wore on your feet.

If it was a post break up outfit it would have been fitting, your dress hugged your curves as it made your breasts look heavenly.

But it wasn’t because of a break up, no this was arguably worse. You and Sidney had been sleeping together for the last three months yet that abruptly ended after rumours came to twitter of him spending time with some model.

Now you usually weren’t one for jealousy, it was an emotion you tried to avoid. But here you were sending Sidney a message that was simple telling him that you were done.

Yet that was so much easier said than actually put to practice. The captain looked gorgeous tonight as he walked around in a suit that was tight enough to leave little to imagination.

Sidney hadn’t let his eyes leave you since he arrived. It was hard to ignore how gorgeous you looked as you were in a conversation with some of the players, laughing as you let your hand brush over Ryan’s arm.

The Canadian always thought you had an eye for that boy, it was how you let your camera linger on him even as you started sleeping with Sidney. As it felt like he was proving his point the captain watched as you made your way to the bar to get another drink “just go talk to her.” Jeff groaned as he had been swearing for the last few weeks that all would make sense if you and Sidney got together.

If only he knew right?

The captains cheeks turned a tinge of red locking eyes with you as you went back to your conversation with Evgeni “sort that shit out for the sakes of the team.” The fellow Canadian added before he placed his hand on Sidney’s back pushing him in your direction.

Sidney wondered what you and Evgeni were talking about as your eyes sparkled looking at the captain “speak of the devil.” You smirked flashing the older boy your signature grin.

It was a look that Sidney would have thought that he would have gotten used to by now, but even after knowing you for two years it still made him weak in the knees.

Evgeni seemed totally unaware of what went on between you two as he smiled “surprised you didn’t bring that girl cap.” His voice was teasing as he watched the older boy nod bringing his drink to his lips “not really her scene.” Sidney’s comment was only met with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

It irritated him how you could get under his skin so much easier when he was sexually frustrated “you got something to say?” The Canadian sent you a glare not realising that it only made you more amused.

You placed your now empty champagne flute on the table next to you “just think you’d need a bit of help to keep a girl satisfied.” Your comment made Evgeni snort before he slapped his hand over his mouth to keep quiet.

This little spat had been going on between you and Sidney for weeks now so he wasn’t surprised when he carried on into tonight “you’re old Sid, most men your age start needing help from some little blue pills.” You shrugged twisting the metaphorical knife in deeper before the older man wrapped his hand around your arm pulling you to the exit.

Anyone who had seen it thought Sidney just didn’t want to argue with you in front of everyone else but of course he had other plans “don’t remember you telling me I needed any type of pill to satisfy you.” Sidney’s voice was harsh as he pushed you into the elevator.

Your lips turned upright “didn’t think I’d have to explain faking to you.” Sidney always made sure you finished in bed but you were continuing on in your act to piss him off.

His eyes stared at yours as your back hit the wall of the elevator “you think you were faking it?” The hockey player let out a laugh as he hit the number for his floor.

When you remained silent his fingers dug into your waist “all the dang time,” you spat only getting cut off as his lips were forced onto yours.

The kiss reminded you of why you enjoyed being with him but as you remained strong not letting his tongue into your mouth it got him frustrated “it’s cute, you thinking you’re all strong today.” Sidney mumbled placing a slap to your ass cheek and as you opened your mouth to argue it gave him the chance to slide his tongue in between your lips.

You two went like this for another minute or two until the elevator doors opened on the captains floor “c’mon.” Sidney locked his hand with yours as he pulled you out of the elevator making sure you followed him to his hotel room.

As he fished for his keycard you decided that you wanted to push his buttons so as innocently as you could you let your hand reach over to the front of his pants where you began to palm his cock through the suit fabric “you are playing with fire baby.” The captain warned sending you a glare.

You leaned onto your tippy toes as you didn’t let your hand drop from his pants “ever thought that it was what I wanted to do?” You asked pressing a kiss just below where his earlobe was.

Luckily for Sidney he was able to open the door before you could do anything else to piss him off “been wanting to get you out of this since I saw you.” Sidney confessed letting his fingers run over the straps of your dress.

His hands cupped your breasts in their journey to your ass “Sid,” you whined as his lips nipped dangerously close to your sweet spot on your neck.

Sidney smirked as he turned to face you “only good girls get rewarded.” He shook his head “others have to work for it,” his voice was serious as an idea formed in your head.

You dropped to your knees never letting your eyes leave his “sure you don’t need some viagra first?” You kept this smirk as you undid his belt “change of plans princess.” Sidney scoffed pulling you back to your feet.

It confused you as he spun you around so that you were facing away from him “need to fuck you like the naughty girl you are.” He explained pressing a kiss to the back of your neck.

Your panties grew wet “what are you waiting for then?” You asked letting out a gasp as you were pushed against the comforter on the bed.

Sidney let out a grunt as your dress fell over your ass “not even wearing any panties huh?” He ran his fingers over the curve of your ass before he slapped the arena of skin causing you to moan “didn’t look good with the dress.” You explained hearing the sound of his pants hitting the ground.

Your wetness glistened as he looked at your core “you been thinking about this today?” Sidney was painfully hard as he watched you turn your head to look at him “been thinking about getting a good fuck for weeks.” You confessed running your tongue over your lip “but then you found a new friend-“ the reminder of why you ended was sour on your tongue as you sent him a glare.

It made Sidney laugh “you think she mattered like you did?” The boy reached for your hands as he held them on your back “you are my fucking world.” He added using his belt to tie your hands together.

You grew alarmed as you felt his tie go over your eyes “I’m going to fuck you just the way I want to tonight.” Sidney leaned over to whisper that in your ear.

For the most part you two were fairly vanilla, besides for the fact that you enjoyed the occasional fuck in your office where he’d awkwardly sit under your table eating you out as you’d edit the pictures you worked on.

A whimper fell from your lips “please Sid,” you begged feeling his cock brush over your slit. He smiled hearing how needy you were “don’t think I need some pill for this?” Sidney asked dragging his cock over your clit teasing you “if you don’t hurry up then maybe?” Your giggle was short lived as he drove his cock into your core.

It was hot as you were practically trapped beneath him blind as your sense heightened “god you’re so tight.” Sidney grunted thrusting into you.

Your pussy wrapped around his cock giving him an extra sense of pleasure “don’t stop Sid.” You begged bringing your hips back to meet his.

Sidney snaked his hand down your stomach to rub your clit “don’t plan on it,” the sound of skin slapping echoed off of the walls making your skin sweaty.

His lips nipped at your neck finally reaching your sweet spot “god,” you cried as you tried to force your hands out of the belt constraint.

It only made the boys smirk increase “it’s just me princess.” He cooed locking his free hand in your hair as your moans were muffled by the comforter when your head drove deeper into it.

You honestly forgot about how irritated you were at him as his cock drove deeper into your pussy “oh shit!” You gasped trying to squeezed your thighs shut “not tonight princess.” Sidney shook his head as he moved his knee between your legs.

The headboard continued to hit the wall with each thrust the boy gave “you still think I should have had those pills tonight?” He asked clearly wanting that question to be rhetorical.

Moans were the only real coherent thing that came from your lips “no Sid,” you shook your head feeling it build up in your stomach “making me feel so full.” You cooed clenching your pussy around his throbbing cock.

Sidney grunted at the feeling “so why’d you say it to him huh?” He questioned you bringing his hand from your hair to your neck as he brought your torso up to his.

When you remained silent his hand squeezed around your neck “asked you a question princess.” He grumbled urging you to answer him “wanted to piss you off,” you whispered only knowing the side he was on by the sound of his breathing.

He smiled letting out a gasp as he was getting close to his high “and now you want to come don’t you?” Sidney pressed a kiss to your temple as your head dropped against his shoulder “please Sid.” You begged letting out a gasp as the tie dropped below your eyes “going to have to do better than that.” The hockey player grunted as your eyes locked with his.

You shook your head “please let me come.” You repeated your beg as your body began to shake. It was like you weren’t allowing yourself to come until he said so.

Sidney pressed a kiss on your shoulder letting his teeth sink into the soft skin “promise to behave?” He asked feeing light headed as his eyes fluttered.

He watched as you nodded “be your good little girl forever.” Sidney smirked hearing you say that “you can let it go baby.” His words caused your orgasm to hit you like a truck.

Eyes screwing shut as white specks lit up the backs of your eyelids “shit shit shit!” You cried out as the boy fucked you through your high.

If Sidney’s had wasn’t still around your throat you would have fallen flat onto the mattress “good girl,” his words rang through your ear as he shot his warm load into your pussy as he came shortly after you.

Once you two came back down to earth and the boy let his cock fall out of you your body shuddered “was I too rough tonight?” Sidney asked moving his hand down to undo the belt around your hands.

He massaged the area of skin as he realised that a bruise was going to form there tomorrow “it was hot,” your confession made him laugh.

The boy lay next to you as you looked up at him with a smile “I meant what I said,” Sidney ran his fingers through your hair “really?” Your furrowed your eyebrows watching as he kissed down your arm.

You were never going to get over how he made you feel so giddy inside “wanna to give you the world.” At this point it began to sound like he was talking to himself as he got up to readjust himself between your thighs.

A giggle left your lips as you propped yourself up on your elbows “what are you doing?” You grinned watching him stare up at you from between your legs “showing you just how much I want you.” Sidney’s words were playful as his breath fanned at your core.

It didn’t take him long before he wrapped his lips around your clit “fuck Sid!” You groaned instantly wrapping your fingers in his curly locks of hair.

You were in for a long night of pleasure.

#Sidney Crosby smut #sidney crosby x reader #nhl smut #hockey smut #hockey imagine #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl oneshot #oneshots #imagines #amber writes fics

[wrongplacerighttime]

Hi!! This is my first fic that I’m posting. I wrote it loosely based on this love by taylor. I write for my own enjoyment usually but this is my first time sharing my work!! I hope you enjoy it <3

word count: 7.5k (got carried away lol)

tw: smut MDNI!!, hints at dom harry, fluff, angst, drinking, kind of feelings of regret, mentions of a cheating partner.…i think that’s it but lemme know if i missed any :’)

This Love Left A Permanent Mark

This was a terrible idea.

My inner monologue has been repeating the phrase through my head like a mantra from the moment I walked through the glass doors of the club.

In hindsight, I don’t know why I didn’t think this sooner. Why did I think coming to my ex-boyfriend's album release party was a good idea? In what world would that ever be a good idea? Especially the way we ended things. I mentally note to never let Ginny talk me into something like this ever again, even if she is dating a member of his team. I recall the conversation we had about it a mere four days before this moment.

“It’ll be fun! And he’ll be busy talking to people all night anyway. He won’t even know you’re there, probably.” she insisted

“I don’t know, Gin. I really don’t want to crash his night.” I mumble, twiddling with the menu on the table in front of me.

“You need to get out of the house. All you do is sit and read your books and play your guitar. It makes me sad and depressed.” her nose crinkles in displeasure.

“What’s wrong with that?” I shoot back, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing, I guess.” She shrugs. “I just think you deserve to have a good night. I won’t tell Joe you’re coming so he doesn’t mention it to Harry. You can just hang around and mingle and drink and dance with me.” She reaches over the table and takes my hand in hers. “Please. We haven’t had a night out in so long.” she gives me a pouty lip and I roll my eyes.

“We could go out any other night.” I point out and she sighs loudly.

“True…but this would be perfect. You don’t have to pay for any drinks or deal with sleazy guys at the bar. Just industry people doing industry people things and listening to the album at a big party.”

I contemplate her request. What’s there to lose? I weigh the options in my head for a moment. If I don’t go, she’s right, and I’ll just sit in my room all night flipping through the same romcoms and sitcoms that I’ve already watched 3 times over. I’ve been doing fine for a few months now. I’ve been going on dates again, and meeting new guys. On the other hand, no one will ever be him and I have no idea how I’ll react if I do end up seeing him…or if he sees me. But, there will be so many people there, he’ll be mingling, and he probably won’t see me, right?

“Fine. But if he sees me, I’m bolting. .” I mutter and she squeals in excitement.

Now here I am, sitting at the bar alone in the same spot for the past 45 minutes. Ginny is nowhere to be found, and I’m in an uncomfortable dress that’s too short for my typical comfort zone and the sequins are making me itchy. I twirl the straw around in my drink and sigh, holding my head in my hand.

On the plus side, I’ve avoided him for most of the night. The first time I spotted him was when he was walking into the club, making his grand entrance. I was hiding behind Ginny and he didn’t see me. But when I saw him my heart skipped. He’s wearing a cream colored suit, that looks almost a baby pink color if it’s in the right light, with a white tank top underneath that shows off his toned chest along with the two swallows tattooed on his tanned skin, and his cross necklace hanging from his neck. He’s got a pair of glasses with orange colored lenses perched on his head also. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wish I was on his arm right now.

This was a terrible idea.

It’s been over a year since I saw him last. I don’t even know what he’s writing about in his music because I avoid every single thing about him. Arguably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do because he’s everywhere right now. If I see his name in the news, I don’t read the article. If he’s on the TV, I change the channel. I scroll past anything I see that his name associated with it. I learned my lesson the hard way in the beginning. I purposely searched his name in the weeks following our tumultuous end, and saw so many pictures of him with other women…and every time I saw him with them, the picture of him that I saw that night comes to my brain. So I stopped putting myself through that misery.

I hear a loud noise like someone patting a microphone. I turn my head to see Harry standing at the front of the room on a small stage. He’s looking out to the crowd of people who are now mostly turned to face him. He looks my way for a moment, and I feel my breath catching in my throat, but then he skips over me and continues skimming the crowd, and I let go of the breath I was holding.

“Hello, I’m Harry.” His deep voice sounds so smooth in the microphone and my stomach churns. It’s been so long since I’ve heard his voice.

“We know!” Someone yells back to him and the room erupts in laughter, making Harry chuckle into the microphone. So many thoughts are going through my head while I stare across the room at him, like the last time I heard him laugh like that. I turn back to face my drink so I don’t have to look at him. How good he looks.

“I just wanted to say thank you all for coming. It really means the world to me that I get to celebrate the release of my third album with all of you. I wouldn’t be here, in this moment, if it weren’t for every single one of you. All of you have played such an important role in making me the artist that I am. So thank you.” I sneak a peek at him from the corner of my eye. He brings his hand up to place over his heart in an endearing gesture. “Now, let’s get this show on the road and listen to it, shall we?” He says cheekily and the crowd sounds off with applause and cheers. The speakers in the room begin to play the tune of the first song and he walks off the stage making his way around the crowd of people, stopping to shake hands and chat with some of them.

I feel a hand on my shoulder and flinch in surprise, only to whip my head around and see Ginny hopping up into the seat next to me. I shoot her a look that shows I’m not happy with her and she tilts her head. The song changes and the next song is just as upbeat as the first.

“What? What’s wrong?” She questions and I roll my eyes.

“I’ve been sitting here alone for 45 minutes. You left me. You said you wouldn’t.” I pout, looking back down at my half-empty drink.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Joe wanted to introduce me to some people and then I lost track of time. I won’t leave again. I’m yours for the night. Promise.” She wraps her arm around my shoulders and squeezes me into her and I smirk. She orders a drink and I turn to face the crowd again. I don’t see Harry anywhere, and I feel the tension I was holding in my shoulders release a fraction.

We sit for a while, drinking and chatting amongst ourselves and other people who come to the bar while they’re waiting for their drinks to be made. They mostly talk to Ginny and ask how things with Joe are going, while I just listen and add little bits to the conversation here and there. I’m turned to face her at the same moment the 5th song ends and turns to a slower one, not as upbeat as the others. And they’re all so good. His talent really shining through in all of these words he’s written.

The chatter dies down a little, everyone taking in the beginning of the song before it picks back up again. Some people are swaying to the music and others are standing in groups. While looking through the crowd I spot some of Harry’s famous friends and when one of them makes eye contact and waves at me, I wave back. I feel a little stab in my chest, thinking back to a time Harry and I would be over there talking to them together. We would talk about how their projects are going and their plans for the future. Harry would always have his arm draped over my shoulder, pulling me closer to his side and kissing the top of my head. I sigh and continue to look around the room, looking for anyone else I might know, but then I spot him.

He’s sitting in a large curved booth with three others. He’s leaned over listening to one of them speak. I watch as his jaw clenches, and a small piece of hair falls down over his forehead. His eyes crinkle the way I always remember when he smiles and I can feel my breath leave my chest, just looking at him like this stole it away. His hand comes up to push his hair back off of his forehead while he nods and I catch the rings adorned on all of his fingers. One of them in particular catches my eye though.

The lion ring.

I gave him the ring as a gift for our anniversary a few years ago. He used to wear it every time he performed, but I didn’t realize he still wore it. You would if you’d ever pay attention to him, my conscience informs me and I swallow the thick lump in my throat. Ginny taps me on the shoulder once, pausing before tapping again, I turn my head towards her, but my gaze was still on the ring on his finger. My eyes work my way back up to his face before I tear them away, admiring his features for another moment. His beautiful green eyes…but when I turn to look at Ginny, I have to do a double take back to him.

Wait.

His eyes?

After a single second my brain catches up and registers that he’s looking at me. He opened his mouth once, then closed it again, his brow furrowed and shaking his head. I see the confusion laced through his expression, and I’m cursing myself, but I can’t look away.

“Fuck.” I manage to squeak out, and Ginny follows my gaze over to Harry.

“Oh shit. Laine, don’t—” she starts to say something but stops when he’s holding up his hand to whoever is speaking to him, signaling for them to give him a moment, and his eyes never leave mine.

“Laine?” I saw him mouth my name. A sight I’ve memorized ten times over. My breathing, my heart, and my mind all stop. Everything stops. It felt like the entire world stopped turning.

Within two seconds he’s standing, pushing his way through groups of people towards me. As he stands, I’m running for the door. I don’t look back. I just keep moving forward through the groups of people, pushing myself through…in the same sense that I have been for 19 months now. Running away and never looking back.

“Run away like you have from everything else.” The words that have infiltrated every single thought in my head for the past 19 months.

This was a terrible idea.

I’m pushing to the door, the air suddenly thick with dread that clouds my mind. I can’t breathe and it’s suddenly so hot. The room around me blurs and I can’t see where I am because there are tears clouding my vision. I’m blinking fast to clear them and all I hear are the last words he ever said to me, and then I feel the familiarity of his touch, and the flashback of the fight comes so quickly that it hits me like a freight train. Coming to the forefront so easily after I’ve tried so hard to just forget.

“Laine! Stop. Please, you don’t have to do this.” His voice drops an octave on the last few words, desperate for me to stay, and I knew I couldn’t.

“No, H. I can’t. This isn’t working. I can’t keep sitting here waiting for you to care about this, about us, when you’re photographed necking a girl at a bar. I sit here looking like a damn fool, waiting for you to love me.” My voice trembles and I shove him away from me.

“It wasn’t even what it looked like! You’re being irrational.” He throws his hands up in the air.

“Me? Irrational? Don’t. We’re falling apart. You’ve been growing so distant. Every time you go out you’re photographed with some other girl…and this time you’re all over her? I know we haven’t been the best lately but this is too much. You’ve gone too far.” I argue back, throwing things into a bag.

“You should know the paps twist everything. Please let me explain!” He’s practically yelling now, and I turn back to face him, rage clouding my mind.

“You cannot explain away this one Harry. All I wanted was for you to look at me the way you look at them. You used to. I used to be the only one you looked at.” My voice trembles, the tears threatening to spill. “It’s time to stop lying to ourselves, this was over a long time ago.” I snap at him with a shake of my head. He looks at me, defeated.

“Fine, Laine. Just go. Run away from this like you have everything else in your life. You’re so predictable.” He shoots back and I visibly flinch, I never thought he would use my past against me.

“You don’t get to say those things to me after doing this. This is your fault. I’m done. It’s over. Go call your new girl, I’m sure she’s waiting for you.” I grit through my teeth. I don’t let him say anything else before I walk out the door, leaving the only place I've ever called home behind.

“Let go of me!” I yell, trying to catch my breath and gasping for air. Trying to push and pull my way out of the grip on my arm. I know it’s him. I’d know the feeling of his hands anywhere. My eyes are squeezed shut.

“Hey! Laine, calm down. Look at me.” He shakes me slightly trying to get me to come back down to earth. I feel his hands let go of my arms and he grabs my face. “Please. Look at me.” I shake my head.

“I can’t. Because if I open my eyes and you’re really standing there and it’s not a dream, I will pass out.” I say quickly, so quickly that my words run together and I’m not sure he even understood what I said. But what am I so afraid of? It’s just Harry. But then again, my mind is replaying his words from that night over and over again. Run away like you have from everything else.

“If you do, I’m right here. I’ll catch you.” His voice is deep and he speaks slowly. His hands are still holding my face. I don’t respond, my lips pressed together in a thin line. My heart is beating out of my chest.

“What are you doing here Laine?” He asks, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

“I-,” I stop myself, realizing I have no good explanation, to collect my thoughts. I realize that my eyes are still tightly closed, and I probably look ridiculous. But now that he’s here and the entire world hasn’t imploded yet, I’m beginning to come back down to earth. I realize I don’t hear the music, I don’t hear anyone else talking, and my back is against a cool concrete wall. I open my eyes slowly, and I’m outside, and he’s there. Right there in front of me, not a dream, not a figment of my imagination. His eyes are so green, his jaw is sharp with little bits of stubble beginning to grow. His lips are full and pink, and they look so, so kissable. His hair is perfectly wavy sitting on top of his head, and he’s just close. Closer than he’s been in so many months. I turn my head, looking away from him and down the alley. I take a shaky breath.

“Ginny invited me. I don’t think she told Joe I was coming. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I-I didn’t think…” My gaze travels back to his, and he’s smirking.

“Didn’t think what? That you’d run into me at my own album party?” He asks.

“In hindsight it was not the smartest decision.” I mutter and look down at the ground. I can’t look at him. If I look at him again I’ll want to kiss him and I can’t do that, not anymore. “I think I’m just gonna go home.” I add and look back up at him through my lashes.

“Don’t. Stay. I’m sorry that I scared you. I just haven’t seen you in so long, it caught me off guard. I didn’t know if it was really you sitting there or if my mind was playing tricks on me again.” He rubs his hands down my arms, stopping at my wrists and going back up again, keeping me warm in the cool night air.

“Again?” My brow furrows.

“Yeah. Again. See you everywhere I turn, have since…” He trails off, then shakes his head slightly. “Please, come back in…I’m sorry that I startled you.”

“I need to anyway. I ran out and left all of my stuff with Ginny.” I wrap my arms around my torso to try and shield myself from the cold. He moves out of my way and stands beside me. We walk back inside in awkward silence, and this feels like some terrible kind of walk of shame. He holds the door for me and I mumble a thank you. Someone catches his attention when we walk into the main area so he stops to talk to them and I take that as my cue to walk away before it’s even more awkward. I make my way back over to the bar and Ginny is still in her seat. Her eyes widen at me as she sips through her straw.

“Oh my god. Are you okay? I didn’t know what to do. I saw him coming this and then you were running and then he ran after you and I just froze. I’m sorry. Should I have come to save you?” she rambles on and I shake my head.

“It’s fine. I think I just overreacted. I haven’t seen him in so long and when I saw him coming towards me I panicked. Nothing bad happened.” I sigh and run my hands over my face. My mind wanders, thinking about what he said. He said he sees me everywhere, and he has since the night I left. I didn’t think he even wanted anything else to do with me. Thinking about what he said pulls at my heartstrings and I’m confused…I decide I don’t want to feel this way.

I order a drink from the bartender.

Then another.

Then another.

And before I know it, another hour has gone by, and I’m drunk and on the dance floor laughing with Ginny. I have a drink in one hand and the other above my head, holding onto Ginny’s and swaying our hips together. I’ve not felt this way in a long time. I feel on top of the world, like I’m floating. She leans into me and whispers something in my ear but I don’t quite catch it. I turn towards her with a confused look on my face.

She gestures her head across the room and my gaze travels that direction. I look to find Harry, sitting in the same booth as before. He’s leaned back with one leg crossed so his ankle is resting on his knee. He’s got a drink in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth with a smirk on his face. Smirking at me.

“He’s been watching you for, like, the past 10 minutes. I know because I counted.” Ginny slurs in my ear and I look at her with an eyebrow raised.

“You counted?” I repeated back, skeptical. I don’t think I could even count to 20 right now.

“Um, yeah. It was for like two and a half songs that’s pretty much the same as 10 minutes right?” Her words run together and I turn my head to look at him again over my shoulder. A woman is sitting next to him, trying to get his attention and he’s nodding to whatever she’s saying, but his eyes are still on me.

I don’t really think my brain can comprehend why he’s staring at me in this moment. So I keep dancing with Ginny, and then eventually with other people too. I end up dancing with one of his friends that came up to talk to me, his arm around my shoulder and jumping around, singing the words to a popular song we’ve all heard repeatedly on the radio. I don’t remember when it happened because all my thoughts are running together and Ginny just keeps handing me drinks, and I’m so grateful for that. Grateful that he doesn’t come over to me. But why was he grinning at me like that?

Another hour goes by, I’m standing at a table talking to someone I’ve never met before, but Ginny knows them. Another one of Joe’s clients he manages, I think. I don’t really remember. I’m sipping my drink through a straw, slightly swaying to the music and listening to one of the women at the table speak when I feel hands on my waist, pulling me away from the table. I stumble backwards, feeling my back collide with a strong chest. I turn my head to see that Harry is the one pulling me away. His eyes are dilated and I can smell the alcohol on his breath. He grabs my hand, pulling me into the shadows of the club where no one can see us. He leans down and I can feel his breath on my ear.

“You look so tempting. It’s not fair.” He cups his hand around my cheek, running his fingers down my jaw line then holding my chin between his thumb and finger. He tilts my head up so my eyes meet his. He reaches up, running his thumb over my mouth, pulling my lip as he drags it down. He breathes a heavy sigh through his nose. Bravely, and not in the right state of mind, I gently bite his thumb between my teeth, closing my lips around it and sucking lightly. He chuckles and shakes his head. He just looks so good.

“You’re killing me.” He groans and drops his forehead to meet mine. “All I want right now is you and I can’t have you.”

“Who says you can’t?” I whisper back to him, looking up at him through my lashes, and our faces are so close. So close all I can see are his eyes. He grins and leans in, leaving a small kiss on my neck under my ear, and I feel tingling where his lips touch. I can smell his cologne. I would recognize it anywhere. He grabs my hand and leads me through the crowds of people towards the back door.

“My place or yours?” He asks, his eyes peeking at me over his shoulder.

“Yours.” I answer back without hesitation.

He opens the door and I feel the cold air biting my skin, instantly making my body shiver. We’re walking fast towards his car, his hand still wrapped around mine and pulling me along behind him. He walks me around to the passenger side of his car and opens the door for me. I slide into the seat and my teeth are chattering, when he comes to the drivers side he takes his jacket off and hands it to me over the center console.

We drive to his apartment in silence, his jacket shrugged over my shoulders. The air is filled with tension, both sexual and nervous. I don’t want to speak because I don’t know what to say. He grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles, making my heart flutter in my chest. Like he always used to. I don’t pull away. I let him hold my hand against his mouth.

We make our way up to his apartment with haste. The elevator stops and opens to his penthouse, and once we’re inside he’s pushing me against the wall, not wasting a single second, and his lips finding mine. He grabs my hips so hard that I’m sure there will be bruises. When my mouth opens he’s slipping his tongue inside and I feel my knees weaken. He kisses me like it’s the last time he’ll ever get to.

He’s grabbing my thighs and lifting me up, all without breaking the kiss and instinctively my legs wrap around his waist. My hands work their way into his hair and pull slightly, making him groan into my mouth. He carries me into his room, the room we used to share, and lays me down ever so gently. He’s hovering over me, his knee between my thighs and putting pressure on my center. His kiss and his touch feel so familiar that it hurts, and I can feel it in my bones. Something I’ve longed for since the very last time. I feel my muscles melting into the bed with the weight of him on my chest. I moan into the kiss and he pulls away slightly.

“Been thinking about this for so fucking long, Laine. Think about you every day.” He whispers, touching his forehead to mine. My brain feels fuzzy and somewhere in my mind my conscience is telling me not to sleep with him, that I’ll regret it, but I push the thought out of my mind and focus on him hovering over me, paying attention to me. The only thing I’ve ever wanted him to do. The only thing I’ve craved for the past 19 months.

“Just kiss me.” I say breathlessly, and he does. His hand travels to the nape of my neck and grips tightly, holding my face to his. His lips are as soft as I remember. My veins are buzzing with a mixture of pleasure and alcohol, and I feel the heat grow through my entire body. Before I know what I’m doing, I’m grinding my hips against his thigh that's still between my legs and I whimper into his mouth at the friction it gives and he pulls his lips away just far enough to speak.

“Needy girl.” He purrs and I nod, lolling my head to the side while still moving my hips against his thigh. “Look at you. Need me this badly? No one else than take care of you like me, can they?” He pushes his leg against me harder and I gasp. “Answer me.” He grits through his teeth.

“No.” I choke out, “Nobody but you.” I whine, telling him what he wants to hear. And it’s the truth. Nobody could ever make me feel the way he does.

His hands travel down my body and push my dress over my hips, exposing me to him. He pulls away and looks down at the lacy piece of white fabric settled on my body, biting his lip and running his finger across the waistband, his light touches making me shiver.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs and I nod.

In one swift motion he hooks his finger in the fabric and pulls them down my legs, kneeling in front of my knees. He hooks his arms under my legs and palms the top of my thighs. I close my eyes and feel his breath trailing over my thighs and ghosting over the spot where I needed him the most. He peppers small kisses on my inner thighs, teasing me. I reach my hand down and tangle my fingers in his hair.

“You’re dripping.” He grins and looks up at me through his lashes. “All for me?” His warm breath on my wet center sends chills up my spine.

“No one else. Please, Har. Need you.” I say breathlessly, and I feel him smirk against my skin, grabbing my legs and opening them so far I feel the stretch in my muscles.

“How much?” He mutters, his voice low and gravelly.

“Please. So much. Need you so much.” I whine and gasp when I feel his tongue begin to lap at my clit, barely letting me finish my sentence. My back arches off the bed and he uses his hands to grab my hips and force me back down. He groans against me and the vibrations travel through my body, making me writhe against the bed. My hand still in his hair tugs at the root slightly, making his eyes flutter closed. My other hand grips the bed sheets so tightly I can feel my nails digging into my palm through the fabric. He trails his tongue down to my leaking hole and thrusts it inside while his nose creates friction at my bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, Harry. So good. Feels so good.” I manage to gasp out between moans in broken phrases. He lifts his head and his chin is glistening with my arousal and he smirks. Going back in fervently he brings me closer and closer to the edge. I feel the coil tighten in my belly and he doesn’t stop.

“I’m so close.” I whisper between gasps and he moans against me again, and the vibration it provides is enough to send me over the edge. The coil snaps and my vision goes white, and I’m moaning his name over and over while he continues to move his tongue against me and working me through my high. I try to push him away from my body on his shoulders but he’s stronger than I am, and the overstimulation brings tears to my eyes and he stares back at me devilishly as he thrusts his tongue into me and my hips buck.

“Please.” I whisper breathlessly. “Hurts, Har.” I gasp as he licks against my now sensitive clit. Finally, he pulls his mouth away from me and stands between my legs at the edge of the bed. My eyes, barely open, travel down his body and stop at the outline of his hard cock in his pants. I sit up and hurriedly work on undoing his belt, not saying a word. I look up at him through my lashes and he’s watching me intently. He wraps his hand around the back of my neck and squeezes, letting me know what he wants. Once his belt is undone I push his pants and underwear down and his cock springs free and hits his abdomen. My mouth waters at the sight, a sight I’ve been dreaming of for months.

I lean forward, wasting no time and lick up his length and he tips his head back with a low groan. I wrap my lips around his leaking tip and suck lightly, then spitting. I pull him into my mouth until he touches the back of my throat and I swallow around him, causing him to curse and tangle his fingers in my hair. He holds my head there for a moment and then let’s go, and I’m coming back up for air before going right back in. I flatten my tongue around him and the tip hits the back of my throat again, my nose meeting the skin of his waist.

“Fuck.” He hisses between his teeth. “If you keep doing that I’m not gonna last.” He moans with his head thrown back, looking at the ceiling. I pull back and take a breath through my nose before repeating the motions over and over, his tip repeatedly hitting the back of my throat until I gag and that’s when something snaps in him. He grabs my hair and twists it in around his fist, moving his hips so he’s fucking my mouth. I moan, causing a vibration to travel from my throat through his cock and then he’s pulling me off, a string of saliva falling out of my mouth. He grabs both sides of my face, pulling me to stand and kissing me with so much force it almost knocks me over completely. “Don’t wanna finish yet. Not done with you.” He mumbles against my lips before pressing them against mine again.

He pushes me down onto the bed and climbs over me. He wastes no time settling himself between my legs. He pulls my dress off over my head and throws it somewhere in the room. He brings his hands up to cup my breasts, and then he tweaks both of my nipples between his fingers, making my mouth drop open in a small, quiet moan escaping. Then, he’s dragging his cock through my folds and pushing into me slowly. I gasp as my back arches off the bed and he grabs my hips to hold me down. I almost forgot how much I missed this. His hips meet mine and his eyes flutter shut and he groans. I writhe under him, needing more and a whine escapes my throat.

“Please H, need you. Please, please.” I whisper. He leans down, bringing his lips to mine and kisses me slowly, his tongue dancing with mine. I moan into his mouth and he grins as he pulls away from me, resting his forehead on mine.

“No. Wanna go slow, missed this so much. Wanna feel every inch of you.” He mutters, rubbing his nose against mine. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown out. He trails little kisses down my skin, finally moving his hips slowly. I feel every drag of his thick cock against my walls and the sounds that leave my mouth are almost pornographic.

Savoring the moment doesn’t last long. He picks up his pace, his fingers gripping and digging into my hips so hard I’m sure there will be bruises left in their place. Quickly he pulls out of me and flips me over onto my belly. With his hands still on my hips he brings me up to my knees and pushes back into me, quickly pounding into me without remorse making me cry out.

“Oh god, Harry.” I whine and he tangles a hand in my hair, and yanking so my head lifts from the bed.

“Take me so well, baby. The only one who’s ever taken me so well.” He grits through his teeth, the sound of his hips snapping against my ass echoing through the room along with his demanding tone and me moaning his name over and over. I feel the familiar warmth traveling through my belly as he continues hitting the right spot deep inside me.

“I’m gonna cum, please don’t stop.” I beg and his movements become sloppy. The familiarity of this scene gives me deja vu, back to a time when things were simple and all that mattered to us was each other. My brain is fuzzy, and I’m remembering the way he says my name through his gritted teeth and just thinking about it makes me feel euphoric.

“Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Go ahead, cum all over my cock.” He demands. “Shit, Laine.” He growls through his teeth, as if he read my mind and saw my memories and knowing how my name dripping from his tongue gives me exactly what I need to send me over the edge.

“Oh, I’m cumming. Fuck, H.” I gasp, and the warmth blossoms at my center and I’m a moaning, whining mess, my walls fluttering around his cock. He groans and stills, and I feel his warmth inside of me, spurting into me and painting my walls with his cum. His hips stutter before pulling out of me and he sighs heavily as he topples onto the bed beside me.

I roll onto my back, my head lolling to the side and looking at Harry through hooded eyes. His eyes are closed and he’s breathing heavily through his nose, both of us coming down from our highs. And he’s perfect. In every way I remember. My eyes trail down his face to his tattooed chest, the butterfly rising and falling with each breath he’s chasing. The muscles in his arms that flex and relax when he runs his hand down his face…and he’s just so perfect…and I missed him, more than anything…and I still love him, more than anything.

Somewhere in the midst of this, the cloud that hangs over my sense of judgment begins to dissipate and I feel my heart sink to my stomach. Why was I here? The first time I’ve seen him in almost two years and we fucked like it was just a hookup? I was doing so well trying to forget everything about him. But this…this puts me right back at square one.

“I-um…I need…” I stutter, trailing off and scrambling out of his bed. I look around and try to find my underwear and my dress strewn across the room, but it’s dark and I can’t really see well.

“What are you doing?” He sits up, propping on his elbows and watching me with a raised brow.

“I need to go.” I say quietly, bending over and pickup up my underwear, then walking to the other side of the room and looking for my dress.

“Why? You can stay here. This was your place once upon a time, too.” He stands up and pulls his pants back on, walking over to me. I’m frantically looking for my clothes, my heart feeling like it’s beating out of my chest. When I still can’t find it, my breathing picks up rapidly and I’m standing there with my hands in my hair, completely nude, about to have a panic attack.

This is so pathetic.

“Hey, Laine. It’s okay. Take a deep breath.” Harry says quietly, and I feel his hand on my shoulder. I drop my chin to my chest and I bring my hand up to cover my eyes.

“We shouldn’t have done this.” I mutter between my palms, desperately trying to calm my brain.

You’re irrational. Run away from this like you have everything else. You’re so predictable.

“Why?” He asks like he doesn’t know. Like he forgot. I’m clenching my teeth, wincing because I’m already trying to push it out of my head. “Don’t leave. I want you to stay.” He says softly, his hand trailing down to my waist.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I ask, nervously. He looks at me with a look of confusion, but doesn’t respond.

“Do you know where my dress is?” I ask, throwing up hands up in the air, gesturing around the room. I slip my underwear back on so I feel at least a little bit covered and he walks into his closet. He comes out with just one of his t-shirts and hands it to me. I slip it over my head. “Thanks but I can’t go home without pants on.” I mutter.

“Can we just talk?” He snaps at me, and I look at him and blink, not registering that he was growing impatient with me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to come out the way it did.”

“What is there to talk about, H?” I ask with a small sarcastic laugh. The nickname I always used for him slipping out like it’s an old habit recently rediscovered. I cross my arms over my chest and lean against the wall.

“Us. Please.” He begs and I sigh.

“There is no us. There hasn’t been for a long time.” I shoot back at him.

“Can I just say what I want to say and then you can decide what you want to do. Please just hear me out.” He asks and I hesitate for a second before agreeing. I’m not sure what he’s going to say, and I’m also not sure how I’m going to react. If I leave now, then what he said to me last time would be true. I’d just be running away like I always do. I give him a nod, letting him know that I’ll listen to whatever he has to say, and he steps closer to me.

He grabs my hand and leads me out of the bedroom and to the living room. He sits on one end of the couch and I sit on the other end facing him, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my chin on top of them, chewing on the inside of my lips nervously. He sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

“So…how have you been?” He asks, scratching his head and I furrow my eyebrows together.

“Really? Small talk?” I ask and he scoffs, shaking his head and looking away from me, averting his gaze to look out the large glass windows in front of us that overlook the city. This was always my favorite room. He stands and walks over to them, leaning his shoulder against them.

“I don’t know what to say. I thought I had it all planned out…what I was going to say if I ever got the chance…and now, I just…” he trails off, shaking his head again and sighing. “I never stopped loving you, Laine. Not even when I was being a fuck up, I think I just forgot…and then I got blindsided by the attention I was getting and I screwed up. But that was never an excuse to treat you the way that I did. I never apologized, and I sincerely am so sorry.” He says, glancing over at me. “If you don’t believe me, I understand. I just wanted you to know that I still love you. I think about you every single day.”

“I wanted to know that you loved me back then, too.” I whisper, hurt lacing my tone. “That’s all I ever wanted.” I close my eyes and try to control my breathing before I let my emotions talk for me. “I gave you everything, every piece of me, waiting for you to love me. I don’t have anything left to give. I’ve been trying not to think about the last words you ever said to me every single day for the past 19 months. It keeps me up every night and eats away at my thoughts, knowing that that was the way you thought of me at the end of our relationship, and using things I told you in confidence against me. When it was never me fucking anything up, it was you…and that hurt me. You said I was irrational for wanting to leave after I saw you with another girl pushed up against a wall, kissing all over her neck.” I stated, bringing back the memory of the night I left. He winces.

“I know, Laine. Fuck, I am so sorry. I would do anything to prove to you that I’m just so fucking sorry.” He strides over to where I sit on the couch and drops to his knees in front of me, pulling my hands into his. “At first, I tried to forget you. I couldn’t. You were in my dreams every single night. When I was with anyone else for the past five hundred ninety-seven days, all I ever did was compare them to you. They were never you.” He holds my hands against his chest. “It’s always been you. I am so sorry I didn’t realize that sooner. I should have fixed us instead of letting you leave.” His voice cracks on the last few words and he’s searching my eyes for any indication of my feelings. “When I saw you tonight, I knew. I’ve been begging to any god that was listening for a sign and then, there you were, and I just knew. It’ll always be you. I don’t want it to be anyone else.”

“Harry, I just…” I trail off, both sides of my feelings fighting each other in my brain. On one hand, this is everything I ever wanted him to say to me. On the other hand, I’m unsure if I can trust him, no matter how sincere his words sound. I look at him, here in front of me on his knees, and I feel the tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “All I ever wanted was you, and you betrayed my trust. How can I trust you again?” I ask.

“I’ll do anything.” He answers quickly. “I will work for the rest of my life to prove that you can trust me. I’m not the same person I was then.” He squeezes my hands. “I know my words aren’t enough, but I promise I will prove them to you. I know I was selfish then. I’m not anymore.” He shakes his head, looking into my eyes. I feel a single tear escape down my face, and he lets go of one of my hands to cradle my cheek and wipe it away. “I just want you to come back to me, baby. Please.” He whispers, bringing my hand to his lips and kissing my knuckles, his eyes closing and taking in a deep breath.

I’m silent for a moment. I know he’s waiting for a response. I know he won’t pressure me if I say no…he’ll let me walk away if I really wanted to, and I think that’s what he’s expecting. The thing is, I don’t want to. I don’t want to run away this time. I’m so tired of running…running from my thoughts, my feelings, from everything. I remember all of the good. Writing with him, playing board games with him, going to events with him, the way he used to stroke my hair in bed every morning, the way he would come up with silly songs to make me feel better when I was having a bad day, the way we would dance in the kitchen while we were making dinner together, the way he always made me laugh and knew the right words to say…and when I think about him, before everything came falling down, all I can think of is the good. Before I can think about it any further I decide to go with my gut.

“Okay.” I whisper. He lifts his head up to look at me, his eyes glistening.

“What?” He looks at me with an expression of disbelief on his face.

“I said okay.” I take my hands from his and grab his face, pulling him closer so I can kiss him. Our lips meet and it’s like everything fell right back into place. After a few seconds, I pull away, touching my forehead to his. “I never want it to be anyone else, either.”

—————

ahhh!! i’m so excited to post this. I think i’m going to write more of their story, like how they met and things leading up to the break up. idk though!!! i hope you enjoy. 🥹 it’s not my best work but i still just love them so much. <3

#harry styles blurb #harry styles x fmc #famous!harry #harry styles #harry styles fic #thisloveleftapermaentmark #taylor swift #this love #harry #styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles au

[sulfurz]

ೃ༄ SABOTAGE (roman reigns x reader)

ೃ༄ pairings: roman reigns x fem!reader

ೃ༄ requested by: anon

Hi! I was wondering if i can request a fluff roman fic they are both protective of the other and in a tag team match y/n notices that one of their opponents is trying to sabotage roman and so she gets rid of them and then her and roman with the match tyy! (i’m sorry if this kinda makes no sense)

ೃ༄ warnings: there’s like. no dialogue i’m sorry it’s all match based with like one dialogue line😭, descriptions of wwe fighting

ೃ༄ word count: 1.2k

ೃ༄ note: really sorry for the lack of dialogue anon i got. very carried away BUT i hope you enjoy this🥹 despite that i really enjoyed writing it so i hope you can enjoy reading it just as much <3

there was nothing quite like this feeling.

standing by roman’s side, walking down to the ring and watching the faces of judgement day, who weren’t aware you were their opponents for the night (as far as the crowd were concerned). as you walked, roman let his fingers brush against yours, and the electricity that sparked through your veins from such a simple touch had you ready to go the distance.

being his mixed tag team partner was unlike no other.

when sasha had left, roman had been left without a mixed tag team — not a disaster, but for production, this was the end of the world. they knew the crowd loved to see him combine with a powerful diva, and their best idea at the time was to test the two of you out together.

less than half a show in and their decision was made. the crowd had loved you together — from your tag moves to just the way roman held your waist so delicately when celebrating your victory.

you enjoyed it, too — especially the waist holding part.

it was not a secret that roman reigns was arguably the most attractive man back stage; it was a pretty common conversation between you and your fellow women’s superstars. even those who were dating others had to acknowledge the man was gorgeous, and anyone who got to fight alongside him was lucky. you knew this joke even extended into the men’s locker room, having heard many a story now from roman himself about how a certain damian priest accosted him just to feel up his muscles.

so? getting to be the one who trained with such a god of a man? the one who, when you won matches, lifted you in the air with such ease to celebrate? sue you for enjoying it.

you had done just that for a while, kept the pretends of professional whilst you quietly admired him from the side. it was after the two of you had ambushed his ex bloodline members, the usos, in a rivalry story that shocked the public (the very same one that made judgement day start targeting you), that things heated up backstage.

you were both sweaty and pumped with adrenaline, slipping out of those in ring personas but not leaving the thrill of the win behind. you went to hug roman, and in one swift movemebt he had your wrists pulled around his body and he was kissing you like you had never been kissed before.

safe to say, you felt pretty lucky to be the one who had roman’s attention and affection.

even now, as you clamboured into the ring, facing a more than disgruntled looking rhea and dominik, you could see the way roman grinned at you from the corner of his eye. call him terrible at keeping in character, but how could he when you were there and looked so good?

as soon as the opening lines had been spoken, the cue to signal the ambush should begin, you wasted no time in setting up a back elbow on rhea as she ran towards you.

to your side, you could see roman playing a similar move on dominik, the two of you having one quarter of judgement day each at your feet as they writhed in pain. when you caught romans eye, you could just about hear what he shouted at you through the thrumming of blood in your ears.

“you’re a fucking weapon.”

he had always called you that, his weapon, and it would forever make you feel strong enough to conquer anything. that was enough to join your stoic yet loveable boyfriend in a series of two on two moves, landing blow after blow to judgement day until they skilfully reversed and had you and roman plummeting to the ground, one on top of enother.

whilst you sold the recovery, you dragging yourself onto roman’s body, you could feel his fingers in your hair, tapping along to the ticking clock that signalled it was time to get back to your feet.

before you had even fully risen, dominik was there again, attempting to know you down. you ducked at just the right time as the man ran towards you, allowing roman to execute an almost hilarious looking clothes line that sent dominik to the ground.

then, you both turned you focuses on ripley, and the battle began. you perfectly demonstrated move after move until the time came for rhea to take you out, falling to the ground with extra flair that was meant to encourage ronan to perform his signature on the wrestler.

in your recovery time, you spared a moment to glance towards where dominik was still selling on the floor, but something didn’t seem right. in every rehearsal, no one had ever mentioned chairs would be involved in this match? you knew it was judgement day’s ‘thing’, having used it against their previous leader, edge, a million times, but no one had said anything about them being here. it would have been sneaky for vince to have added to the storyline without telling you and roman, but at this point you wouldn’t put it past the man.

as dominik ran at an unaware roman with the chair, all you could think was how badly this could end. roman wasn’t prepared for the chair strike — if he wasn’t in the right position this could be lethal, and you had seen enough injuries this year to not let that happen.

ignoring the ache of exertion in your muscles, you pulled yourself to your feet quicker than you ever had and were suddenly inbetween dominik, roman, and the chair. you gripped its other side tightly, hearing how roman stopped fending off rhea to turn and see what was going on. you were sure he was just as confused as you, but you didn’t care anymore. with all of your force, you pushed the chair back at dominik, until the man’s grip on the object slipped and it went clattering to the ground.

you wasted no time in following the script now (albeit, maybe adding one or two of your own moves in to prove a point to those backstage). if they wanted you to lose, you no longer cared with how they out roman at risk. your partner seemed to get the memo too, the two on two match coming to life in an instant as roman floored rhea then joined you in taking down dominik.

the tide changed entirely, and when you and roman landed your perfectly practiced 3d on dominik, the crowd knew it was all over. you made sure rhea was taken care of as roman pinned dominik, until the match was called and you were announced as the winners: a shock to everyone around, but a welcome one to the crowd.

as they roared in celebration, roman’s hand slipped around your waist and tugged you close to his body. the crowd weren’t aware of what went on backstage, but in that moment, neither of you cared as your hands found his chest, and his lips found yours in a passionate kiss that you knew the cameras were capturing every second of.

and when you pulled a way, you made sure to punctuate the victory with one last wink in judgement day’s direction.

god, roman loved you.

find out how to request via my page

#✍🏻 requests : anon #roman reigns #roman reigns x you #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns scenario #wwe imagines #roman reigns imagines #judgement day #rhea ripley #dominik mysterio

[megamindsecretlair]

Once Upon a December

Pairing: Prince!Bucky x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+. Minors DNI. You are in charge of your own reading experience. Smut. Making out, fingering (fem receiving), oral (fem receiving), PIV, PWP. Cursing. Dark, gothic undertones.

Summary: AU Bucky is a prince you visit in your dreams. He calls to you while awake and you can't wait to join him and dance in the ballroom. But no matter how much you try to enjoy the night, there is something wrong.

Word Count: 4,197k

A/N: I got this idea last night while watching a show and it had a music box in it. It got me thinking about Anastasia and arguably, one of the best songs in that movie. So enjoy a random AU with Bucky as Anastasia as the inspiration. I had soooo much fun writing this! I hope you enjoy. Likes are always awesome. Please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers!

He called to you more and more in the waking hours. You spent the whole day yawning and rubbing your eyes. Your eyes were watery all the time. Sleep. You needed sleep. You barely finished dinner by the time you were giddily slipping under the covers and putting your head on the pillow. 

You slipped away, pulled to that far away and distant place…

He was there to greet you. He was so handsome. Dressed in a dark officer’s uniform with silver buttons and silver tassels, he also wore a cap slightly askew on his head. He stood by the large windows, facing you coming down the stairs. 

You don’t remember getting dressed or getting to the stairs, but you were already halfway down. Your A-line ball gown was a deep navy blue, with silver swirls sewn into it making you shimmer in the candle light. 

“You look like starlight,” he said. As you neared the foot of the stairs, he held out his hand to you. You placed your hand in his and he tugged you closer. His lips descended on yours. His kisses were hungry and desperate. He grabbed you around the waist and half carried you to the pillar in between windows.

He pushed you against it and the rough rock was cold against your bare back. You gasped from the shock of it but he was there to warm you back up. He pushed into you, kissing you and licking your lips. He tasted like something wicked. Like chocolate and secrets. 

“I’ve missed you,” he said. 

“I’ve missed you. I hear you when I’m awake. Why is that? Am I actually here?” You asked. 

For weeks, you had been waking up in this strange land. It was like something out of a fairytale. The prince lived in a sweeping castle, with arched doorways and dome-like windows. The hallways were lit by candelabras  and chandeliers. Paintings hung on the walls of ancestors. And they all looked like your prince. Dark hair, strong jaws.

“You are actually here, my little doll,” he said. He kissed you again. He couldn’t stand to be away from your lips for so long. And neither could you. All day, you’d dreamt of being right back here. In his arms. You had never felt such need before but it was a breathing, living thing inside of you. It was only satisfied when his hands were around yours.

His left hand was encased in metal and it held yours. A freak accident took his left arm from him but it only made him more rugged, daring, and handsome. His beard was full and soft. His hair was brushed back and styled on top of his head. He was your dark prince and a thrill went through you. 

His deep blue eyes softened as he looked at you. He leaned down for another toe-curling kiss. He moved your hands over his military coat and down the front of his pants. His hardening bulge twitched while you palmed him. He pressed your hand against him, using the strength of his metal hand to keep it there. 

“I must have you, my little doll. I can’t stand being away from you,” he said. He brought his other hand up to your face. A knuckle grazed your cheek as he gazed at you. 

“James,” you said and smiled at him. 

Someone cleared their throat next to you. James smiled and winked at you. He turned and stood in front of you, protecting you from the person who interrupted. You couldn’t see around the broad expanse of his back so you waited and breathed deeply to control your breathing.

“Your presence is required in the ballroom, your highness.” It was a masculine voice, a little old and reedy. 

“We’ll be right there, thank you,” James said. He bowed his head and the man walked away. You think. It was hard to tell since there was a carpet running the length of the hallway. You assumed that James’ valet was trained to walk quietly. Seen but never heard unless called for. 

This place was still so strange to you. There was an air in the palace. Like a great empty chamber and sometimes, it seemed like it was only you and James in the entire place. That was silly of course, James just talked to someone. But there were never any guards or people wandering the halls when you arrived. If James knew when you came every time, perhaps he cleared the space so that he could get you to himself. You sighed thinking of the notion. Of James being so possessive that he didn’t want anyone to even look at you. 

James turned back to you and smirked. You’d never admit to him, but sometimes he took your breath away by simply smiling. He was so criminally handsome, it wasn’t fair. You would have followed him off the side of a bridge or inside a cave. Only if he kept looking at you just like that. Like he wanted to eat you whole. 

He grabbed both of your hands and brought it to his lips. “I hate that I have to share you, even for a second,” he said. 

“If we hurry, we can sneak out earlier,” you said. You wanted him just as desperately. You weren’t sure who dressed you or how you got dressed. You didn’t know who picked out this outfit or the corset. But you knew that you weren’t wearing any panties and you grew wetter by the minute, just thinking of having him inside of you again. 

Almost as if he could smell you, he grinned and placed another kiss on your hands. He placed your hand in the crook of his arm and escorted you down the hallway. You held up the side of your dress so that you didn’t accidentally fall on your face. Everything had an enchanting quality to it. You knew you were dreaming, so you expected the edges to look fuzzy.

You thought that the ceiling was a tad too dark or the flickering flames dimmed as you walked past. But it was a trick of the light. Or perhaps your brain was filling in information as you moved through the space.

Whatever the reason, James was solid under your hand. His face was clear and his dark head was ringed by the passing light. Shadows played across his features. His eyes kept flicking towards you. He seemed so real. Perhaps he was. Perhaps you found yourself in another dimension or a palace that could only be accessed in dreams. 

You weren’t sure. But you wouldn’t have it any other way. You’d spent the majority of your days wanting to get back here. You contemplated naps all day long. You didn’t care if you were sleeping too much. 

James escorted you to the main ballroom. Music rose and fell from the open doorway and there was light chatter reaching your ears. He stopped just before entering and looked at you. 

His lust and desire was raw and naked in his eyes. “One dance, my little doll,” he said. 

You nodded. You didn’t want to wait even that long. But the Prince had to make some kind of appearance. He couldn’t disappear the whole night without making the rounds and pleasing all of the old aristocrats. 

He escorted you into the ballroom with the announcement of his name and titles. You were introduced as well, your name carrying even over the music. James nodded at everyone and raised his hands. The people in the room clapped politely and smiled and waved at him. 

James helped you down the stairs. You made it down without making a fool of yourself. People rushed you to gush over your dress and hair and makeup. The people were all dressed so finely in their coattails and ball gowns. Some of the ballgowns were bigger than others and others were more subtle. 

Jewelry reflected in the light of the grand chandelier above your heads. The windows were open to show a starry night. More stars than you could have ever hoped to see in person, considering you were a city girl. You were lucky to see a spattering of stars where you were from. 

There was a long table filled with refreshments off to the side of the room. People milled in front of it, picking up finger foods like sandwiches and crackers. They held tiny cups in their hands filled with champagne. There was an ice sculpture at the end of the table in the shape of a swan. 

At the head of the room, the King and Queen sat on thrones. There were two kids playing in front of it, sitting on a blanket surrounded by toys. Older kids ran around the thrones, chasing each other. The King looked at his family and laughed at their playing. 

You looked at the King as some sort of glimpse into what the Prince would look like when he was older. Would you see James when he got older? If all you had were dreams with him, would he age as you did? 

James squeezed your hand and you looked at him. “Almost done,” he whispered into your ear. He kissed you on the head and let his lips linger there. He breathed in the dainty, floral perfume on you. 

He escorted you around the room, saying hi to foreign dignitaries and the mainstays at court. They all smiled and greeted you. As soon as you turned your head too fast, people’s faces seemed to melt away revealing dusty bones and skulls. But when you turned back, people were normal. 

Maybe it was the dinner you had. Perhaps you had gone to bed too fast on a full stomach. You had thought about skipping it again, but you didn’t want to wake up starving. You tended to eat everything in sight in the morning and that wasn’t healthy. 

James made it across the room and you joined him in bowing to his parents. “How wonderful to see you, my dear,” the King said. His voice was loud and commanding. A voice suited to calling orders across a battlefield. Not eating from fruit trays and drinking wine. 

“It’s wonderful to see you too,” you said and bowed your head. The King clapped and for a moment…well, his hands looked skeletal and decaying. The sleeves of his military coat were eaten through and had cobwebs hanging from it. You gasped but when you looked at his face, he was unchanged. You glanced back at his hands and they were still fleshy and pink and human. 

“A dance!” The King decreed. James kissed your hand and led you to the middle of the dancefloor. The orchestra paused briefly as they shuffled sheet music. Then, the haunting notes of a song began.

James moved in closer, his right hand wrapping possessively around your waist.  You wrapped your left hand around his shoulder and placed your right hand in his left one. The cool, heavy weight of it was like an anchor. He began to move and you let him lead you across the dancefloor. 

The song was full of longing, passion, and stolen glances. It was full of tear-filled goodbyes and soft touches. Of long handwritten letters. Of obsession and possession and eternal belonging.

James spun you around faster and faster. He caught the shadows in between the light. One moment he was fine, the next moment his face was half decayed and crumbling. He smiled. You saw his gorgeous face one minute and a skull the next. Which was real? Why did your brain conjure up such a horrible image?

Other patrons in the room were dancing as well. They were a blur as James moved you through the throng of people. The more you looked, the more you picked out dusty ballgowns and cobwebs hanging from hands clutching tiny cups. Hair hung off of pale skulls and lips were peeled back to reveal bare teeth. 

You clutched James’ hand and he pulled you closer. The smell of sweet rot fanned over you and you choked on the cloying scent. 

“James! James!” You screamed. The shadows grew closer and closer until James stopped spinning you. The room returned to normal. The light was still shining, there were members of the court watching on the sidelines. On the floor, people were still dancing and twirling around you. Sweeps of the ball gowns created a moving dance around you. You felt like you were in the middle of a whirlpool. 

“What’s wrong?” He asked. He pulled you close and you looked into his hypnotizing eyes. 

“I thought…something’s wrong,” you said. He nodded and pulled you off of the dancefloor. He grabbed you a drink and you took a sip, letting it calm you down. 

“I knew this was too much. Next time, we won’t have to dance.” 

You placed your hand on his forearm. “It’s not that…it’s like there’s a nightmare trying to push. Trying to get me to see horrible things,” you said. 

“I know of a way to fix that,” he said. His devilish smirk made you grin and bite your lip. You knew what he was suggesting and you wanted it. You nodded. He took your hand and tugged you out of the ballroom.

On the way out, he explained that you weren’t feeling well and he would see you to your room. Yes, you were fine. Please, it was only a precaution. Too much excitement and trying to keep up with everyone. That made them laugh. 

Truth was, you didn’t really have a room here. Your alarm would wake you and you had to return to the dull, gray world of your waking life. You had a good life, but it was nothing compared to James’ world. At least they didn’t have to pay rent here and live in a world that thrives on tearing people down. 

Excitement built up in your belly as you left the ballroom with James. You ran down the hallway, getting far away from the rest of the crowd. He took many twists and turns and you didn’t know where you were. But you couldn’t wait any longer. James tried the first room on the right and pushed you into the dark room. 

Moonlight spilled into the room from the open window and it was enough light to see that it was a library. There were bookshelves stretching as far as the ceiling was high. There were armchairs and sofas for people to sit and read. There were a few desks for people that required deep research and enough space to do so. 

James closed the door and crossed the short distance to you. He grabbed your face and pulled you close, kissing you. Your hands slid into his soft and fluffy hair. Your breaths mingled as you kissed all over each other. You kissed his lips, the corner of his mouth, sucked on his bottom lip. 

He walked forwards, pushing you backwards. Your legs hit something and James kissed your neck as he turned you around. He unzipped you and you brought your arm up and around his head. It strained your arm a bit, but you needed to touch him. 

He nibbled on your neck as he unwrapped you like a present. Your dress fell from your shoulders, over your wide hips and thick thighs, and pooled on the floor. He helped you step out of it and then he started on the corset. 

You couldn’t breathe from all the anticipation of his hands on your skin. For every lace he undid, he kissed your spine and you cried out. His lips were so soft and warm, a stark contrast from the hint of cold on your skin from his hand. 

“My little doll,” he whispered over your skin. Your flesh pebbled. His deep voice and the intimacy of the dark room drove you wild. Made this more wicked and forbidden than if you were in his bed. 

“My Prince,” you said. Oh, you needed him now. Forget the corset. You didn’t need to breathe while he was inside of you. You tried to turn around, but he stopped you. He was near the bottom of the corset, right up against the top of your ass. He released you and you sucked in air.

He massaged your hips, your ass, and wrapped his right arm around your stomach and pulled you against him. You felt the outline of his cock into the crook of your ass and you wiggled. He groaned in your ear. 

“Naughty little doll,” he whispered and kissed the shell of your ear. He gathered up your slip dress and bunched it around your hips. He dragged his right hand down your stomach and in between your legs.

You both groaned for different reasons. His hands were warm as he dragged them through your slick folds. “Already wet for me, my little doll? You know how to please me,” he said. 

Your pussy clenched and you wailed. “Shh, shh,” he said. He kissed the side of your neck. He used his fingers to circle your clit and you bent forward. He kept his body pressed to yours so he bent with you. 

He was the only thing keeping you upright as his fingers continued to please you. He fingered you until you were an incoherent mess. Your arousal dripped down your leg. He nibbled and suckled on your ear. 

Your head dropped back, onto his shoulders. It allowed him better access to kiss and bite your shoulder. Your orgasm built and built until you were screaming his name as you fell apart. He chuckled at you, at how easily he made you cum. 

He turned you around and kissed you, kissed your desperate huffing. You just came but you wanted him still. You wanted all of him. 

He was still completely dressed. His cap was still on his head. You pushed it off and he lifted an eyebrow. You smiled as you used the limited light to unbutton his military jacket. You were shaking so badly that you fumbled in some areas but he didn’t help. He made you work for it.

He distracted you with occasional kisses and nibbling on your lips. “James! I’m trying to concentrate!” You finally said. You were halfway done. The buttons seemed to multiply and you were growing frustrated.

He chuckled and leaned back. “Fine, I’ll behave,” he said. You gave him a look. You knew he was full of shit, but you doubled your efforts. You finally got the damn thing off and you salivated over the black dress shirt he wore underneath. 

You attacked those buttons, far easier this time. Each button that you unhooked, it revealed more of his luscious skin. He helped you pull it off of him. You grinned as you reached for his pants. His cock was straining against his pants.

“Ah, my little doll. Enough exploring,” he said. He pushed you onto the love seat. You pouted until he knelt slowly to his knees. 

He was the prince of his kingdom and he was bowing in front of you. Your slip had fallen down as you were undressing him. He raised it now until you were bare and open to him. He pried your legs open more and he groaned as the moonlight highlighted your wet, glistening pussy. 

He kissed your calves and then your thighs. His thick beard tickled as he alternated in between your legs. “James, please,” you begged. You couldn’t stand any teasing right now. It had been far too long. You didn’t know how time worked between your worlds. You were here yesterday but was it yesterday for him? 

He chuckled, distracting you from your train of thought. “So impatient,” he said. He took his time reaching your pussy. He blew his breath across your clit and you bucked off of the loveseat. He used his left hand to push you back down. 

He rubbed his nose against your clit and breathed deeply. He moaned and his tongue darted out to taste you. There was no more talking. He licked up everything you had, sucking on your clit. 

Your fingers pulled at his hair and he groaned the tighter you pulled. He brought his right hand up to finger you while he suckled on your clit. His tongue swirled in tiny, close circles until your lungs burned from panting so hard. His left hand was still on your tummy, pushing you down. Forcing you to take what he was giving you. 

You were sobbing and moaning. His fingers pumped into you. The only sounds in the room were your combined moans and the wet suction of his fingers inside of you. The sound alone was enough to drive your pleasure higher until you were near the peak. 

James wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked. The pressure made you arch your back until you were screaming and moaning and climaxing all over his face. He continued to finger fuck you through it. Your hands ripped at his hair but it didn’t faze him. 

Your hands relaxed first. You didn’t want to hurt him. He placed sloppy wet kisses on your thighs. He crawled up your body until he kissed you. His beard was wet from your slick and you moaned around your own taste on his lips. 

His fingers worked on his belt and pants until he drew them down far enough to free himself. He kissed his way along your jaw and neck and dragged his thick cock through your drenched folds. He rubbed himself, getting himself wet with your slick. Then he entered you and you both moaned.

“Fuck. My little doll. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed this cunt,” he whispered against your neck. He slammed into you, over and over. The time for teasing was over. He filled you completely, every solid inch stretching you out. 

He glided in and out of you so quickly and smoothly. His moans kept getting louder and louder. His left hand crushed your hip as he slammed you onto him again and again. The wet slap of your thighs filled the room. 

Your eyes rolled back into your head. He was home, in between your legs. He filled that deep pit inside of you. The pit that only he could reach. Only he could satisfy. 

“Look at you taking all of me, little doll,” he said. He leaned back far enough to look at your face. 

He was half in shadow but this time, there was no decaying flesh. No scary skull with a permanent grin. He was just James. Just your dark prince. He was made for moonlight. His skin glowed and the shadows only highlighted the planes of his face, even through his thick beard and deep blue eyes. 

He pumped into you, getting deeper with each stroke. He pushed down on your stomach, making sure you felt him. Felt him owning you. Pleasing you. 

“You take me so well, my little doll. Let me hear you scream for me,” he said. 

You cried for him, moaning and shaking around his cock. “James…” you whispered. 

He nodded his head. He caressed your cheek with his free hand and ran his thumb down your lips. 

“I know, little doll. It’s okay. Come for me,” he quietly demanded. 

You nodded and stared into his eyes. He smiled at you, patiently, even though his strokes were anything but patient. They were bruising and punishing. He slammed into you hard and you held onto the edges of the couch as you came again. Your shuddering breaths made him finally cum.

He slammed into you one more time before stilling and emptying inside of you. You felt his hot cum fill you up and leak out of you around his cock. He sighed as he twitched. He pulled out and dropped down into a squat to watch his cum leak out of you. 

You felt its slow glide down your cunt and over your asscheeks. He hummed in satisfaction before standing over you and staring down at you. 

“I wish I could keep you, little doll,” he said. 

You shook as the waves of pleasure washed over you. “I wish I could stay, my Prince,” you said. He climbed onto the loveseat with you and pulled you into his arms.

The moonlight made a soft halo around his head. “If I could find a way, would you stay? Would you stay here with me? I cannot sleep without you. My days are spent looking for you everywhere,” he said. He caressed your thick hair, playing with the edge of your temple. 

“I would if I could,” you said. And you meant it. You wanted to stay here with him. You wanted his hands around you, forever. 

James nodded. “I will find a way, my little doll. Stay until it’s time,” he said. He sounded so sad. He sighed quietly but you still heard him. You placed your head on his chest and listened for a heartbeat.

But there was none.

There's more Bucky to love! The Secret Bucky Files

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret Bucky Files #AU Bucky #marvel smut #Bucky x Black!reader #Bucky x Black reader #Bucky x Fem!reader #Bucky x Fem reader #Bucky x reader #Bucky x you #Bucky Barnes #AU Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes

[annasinterests]

I See Fire

|| main masterlist ||

a/n: i'm dedicating this to my love @tinygarbage because the percy brainrot has been unreal for both of us. i thought this up after watching a tiktok (pls don't ask me i literally watched it once, swiped out of the app, then threw my phone across the room) and so this is what we got fellers. ALSO, one line is directly inspired by/from the D&D movie, so i give credit to my boy edgin because honestly the scene about him being so unapologetically honest about his mistakes was everything to me (i also guessed his dialogue word-for-word that entire time and was RIGHT). honestly thinking ab whether or not if i wanna make a part 2 to this..

divider by @saradika ! ❤️‍🔥

word count: 682 words (who knew i could actually write under 1k)

pairings: percy de rolo x reader

warnings & tags: angst, past trauma, arguing, cursing, miscommunication, unresolved ending

“No!-” You seethe, hands balling into fists at your sides, “Don’t you get it?”

Percy scoffed, “You ask that like I should know, and I don’t!” He raised a pointed finger to you, “How can I when all you ever do is leave us in the dark!”

Your jaw clenches as you turn away. White-hot anger blazed your body and blotted out everything else, even the tears that brimmed your eyes and streaked your cheeks.

“Always putting yourself at an arm’s distance, acting like you have the biggest burden to carry– well, guess what? We all have shit of our own!” His rigid tone made your face scrunch up. “You push away every single person that tries to get under the surface, including us! We’re supposed to be a team, damn it!”

You hated him. His pompous attitude and sense of entitlement, as if he’s somehow better than everyone else, or deserves explanations for things that don’t concern him. You hated his stupid glasses that made him look pretentious as hell, and that unnecessary trench coat he wore at all times. And the way he constantly whips out some sort of contraption that leaves the others in awe, stroking his ego, but you wouldn’t dare give him the satisfaction.

But what you really hated, arguably most of all, was that he saw you. Right through all the acts and walls you put up to protect yourself– a promise that there’d be no more pain and tears for as long as you lived out your days.

A promise now shattered.

“Without trust, we are nothing.” The words are venomous, so full of exasperation that it strains his voice on the last word.

A sigh and some shuffling follows a moment or two after, and all you can think is how he’s undeniably soothing the crease between his brows while his other hand rests on his hip, a classic pose of his in high-stress situations. Not that you ever paid attention…

“Believe me, it’s not worth living life that way.” His voice was softer, almost apologetic, “It’s… lonely.”

Had you been completely blinded by your own emotions, you would’ve taken the opportunity to tell him to shove it and kick rocks, but you spared him.

“I, too, thought it was easier. I’d seen my loved ones hunted like game, my own sister betrayed our family name, Whitestone had been–”

“Whitestone still stands,” you snap harshly, abruptly cutting him off. “My home does not.”

It’s then you finally turn back to him with a chilling glare and darkened features. His expression drops to widened eyes and slightly raised brows, clear that he’d not been expecting that response. But now it started, and you couldn’t stop.

“My friends do not– my family does not.” The words are registering at higher decibels that burn your throat after each word, “My life– everything!”

You march up to him, squaring up before his infuriatingly tall frame, locking eyes with his. You were shouting in his face, reaching a point of zenith you didn’t know you had, your vocal cords raw and sore that you were sure they could snap at any moment.

“I’ve lost everything that ever mattered to me and it was all my fault!”

Your body is trembling from the sheer force of the confession, and the air isn’t getting to your lungs the way you need it to right now. Your eyes, narrowed and fierce, fight to maintain their focus, but that buried, broken part of you is clawing its way out with a strength you can’t compete against.

His eyes flicker between yours, his face softened by a frown. You force yourself to look anywhere but his pitying gaze; you don’t need or want it, especially from him. You hastily wipe away the tears with the back of your hand, take a sharp breath in, and then exhale deeply. Out of all people, you couldn’t believe the one person to break you down would be none other than fucking Percival Fredrickstein von Mu—

“You don’t really believe that… do you?”

Yes, of course I do.

#percy de rolo x reader #percy de rolo x f!reader #percy de rolo #percival de rolo x reader #percival de rolo x f!reader #percival de rolo #percival fredrickstein von musel klossowski de rolo III #vox machina #the legend of vox machina

[bridgetotheskyyy]

Acting Out - Kakashi

Kinktober Masterlist

Warnings: 18+, smut, roleplaying, fluff, lots of kisses

Word count: 1.2k

A/n: Will add a pic later it's late and a bitch is tired ✌🏽💕

Read on ao3

Kakashi had begged you to. And you were too in love to deny him.

“Kiyoko!” Kakashi called out to you as you ran into the street. 

You stopped, dramatically stopping in the front of a food cart. You turned back to Kakashi.

“What?” You cried hysterically. “I never wanna see you again!”

“Please, Kiyoko!” Kakashi said. “Just let me explain!”

He took you by the wrist and led you away from the gathering crowd of murmuring spectators into an abandoned alley.

“There was never anyone else …” he said, caressing your face. “Just you.”

You looked deep into his eyes. “How do I know?”

“Because I’m saying it,” Kakashi said. “I’d cross oceans just to tell you you’re the one.”

… You chuckled.

Kakashi blanched. “(Y/n), don’t laugh! We’ve gotta do this by the book! Literally!”

“Kakashi, can’t I just —?”

“No!” He waved his hands. “It’s got to be exactly like the scene, remember?” His eyes sparkled. “Do we need to go over the scene again?”

“Oh, noo,” You said, hands resting on his chest. “You don’t have to. Five times was enough.”

You were good, letting the rest of the scene play out. In Icha Icha, Kiyoko’s duplicitous but charming lover led her home to elucidate the series of miscommunications that took up arguably two-thirds of the novel. All of this culminating in the novel’s most famous sex scene. 

You glanced around as Kakashi led you to his front door. It’s just a shame he lacked the abilities of a god (though he made up for that in other ways wink-wink) to make it rain. Then, the scene would be perfect. 

“I want to believe you,” You said, theatrically traumatized by the drama. “Moreover, I want to forgive you! But …”

“Shush …” Kakashi’s finger pressed to your lips. “Make up your mind in the morning, once I’ve told all my apologies to your body.”

Maybe you were a good actress; you used all the power in the world to resist a giggle. Kakashi took your hand in his and opened the front door with his other. It was nice to see him like this, so dedicated, so into it. 

“Oh, Kaza …” You moaned as he led you through the hallway. Kakashi stopped and you took it as your cue to begin begging for him. “I —”

Kakashi turned around, dragged down his mask, and covered your lips with his. 

“Mm!” Your eyes fluttered, surprised as he pressed you against the hallway wall. You gripped his shoulders, obediently falling into how his lips devoured you. 

He broke away to give you a hard stare. “No. Tell me with your body.”

You swallowed in a dry mouth. His delivery in that tone went straight to your pussy. You pulled Kakashi into another kiss, overcompensating for the seconds he didn’t return it with a revived vigor. You opened his flak jacket as his hands explored your sides. You wrapped arms around him, giving him incentive to lift you off your feet and carry you to the bedroom.

Kakashi broke the kiss only to close the bedroom door and, once closed, he spun you, pressed you into it to steal another kiss. For the first time, you came to resent the roleplay; what you wouldn’t give to lower to your knees and free his cock, take him in your mouth right now while you fingered your clit to the sound of his pants. But there was no oral until way into the scene. It was going to be a long night.

“I want your sighs,” he said while breathing hot kisses into your neck, palming at your breasts. “Your admissions of love, your endless cries — I want it all.”

“Aah …” You bit into your lower lip as Kakashi placed kisses over your cleavage. 

With hands on your hips, Kakashi maneuvered you again to the bed. He growled when your hand found his clothed erection and ground into you as a response.

“In the scene, they were both naked,” he hastened. “But I think you’ll forgive me if we just — hah — skip to the chase.”

“Yes.” You sighed as Kakashi cajoled your legs apart. “Totally forgiven.”

Kakashi worked your panties to your knees. You lost hands in his hair as he pulled them from the hook of your ankles, leaving spontaneous kisses on your heated skin. He loomed over you. You glanced down to see the pink flash of his cockhead as he freed himself from his pants. 

He held himself at your entrance, pushing in by the head — only to abandon it and grind his shaft on your glistening lips. You whined, resisting the urge to cry out for Kakashi as opposed to the character he now embodied.

“Normally, I’d keep going, but Kaza’s his own man,” Kakashi said, seemingly delaying the inevitable with his fucking grinding. “I’d like to save that for later. I don’t want to have you pretending to be anyone but me. Even if he is imaginary.” He met your eye. “I’d rather have you as me first.”  

“Kakashi …” You stared, surprised at him.

He smiled. “Sorry, is that too much?”

No, if anything it’s not enough.

You shook your head.

“Good, so we’re square.”

And he slid his cock into you. You gasped, caught by surprise. Kakashi leaned over you, one hand over your head while the other hooked into the crook of your hip and aided in his first thrust —

“Kakashi!” 

“Good,” he said in mid-thrust. “Now, you’ve got the hang of it — nng!” His brows drew together as you purposefully clenched around him. 

“You can be such a prick sometimes.” You wrapped legs around him. He apologized with a set of stronger thrusts, the bed creaking in response to him along with your weak whimpering. “Kakashi, fuck …”

His hand abandoned your hip to sneak in between your bodies to find your clit, the fabric of his gloves delightfully scratching at the sensitive skin of the nub. 

You drew in a sharp breath at the combined stimuli. You cupped his face, forced him into another kiss. 

“You’re —” Kakashi’s voice caught in his throat. “So — So good around me, ga —!” 

He snapped his hips into you, falling victim to your voluntary clenching; you were struck with a desire to see him come, watch his face as it washed over him. 

“Kakashi, I want you to —!”

“We’ve got all night.” He managed to wink at you.

The tightening in your abdomen became too much to bear. “No,” You rasped. “I don’t think we do …!”

You felt the snap of your climax. This time, none of your clenches were voluntary. Your head fell back, Kakashi’s head falling into the crook of your throat as he followed you. His cockhead kissed your cervix and a warmth filled you. You thought of his milky spent filling you and nibbled into Kakashi’s lips as he lifted his head to kiss you. Still, Kakashi’s manipulation of your clit did not stop, and you arched in and out of his touch. 

Finally, he ceased the overstimulation, rocking a few more thrusts before pulling out.

“Okay,” Kakashi said after a long recess, “this will go on the list of things to do more often.”

“What?” You turned to him, inclined forward as he cupped your chin. “The roleplay or the orgasms?”

“Yes.”

“Well …” Your head swam; your orgasm still purring from within. “The night is still young.”

“I thought we didn’t have all night?”

“I was being cheeky.”

Kakashi gave you a once-over. “Apparently so.”

You made to whack him, but he only caught your hand in his and placed a kiss on your wrist.

#kakashi smut #kakashi hatake smut #naruto smut #kinktober #kakashi x reader #kakashi x you

[tierneysodegaard]

Hollywood - Max Verstappen x Reader

Max Verstappen x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No

Anon: Hi! I love Dog Days sooo much! I'm blown away by your writing and this is story is such a comfort to me. I'm not sure if you're taking any request but I'm hoping you can write another Max x OC. The reader is Max's biggest celebrity crush and they meet for the first time at Monaco/Miami GP. He's all shy & flustered but he manages to take the reader around the track during the hot laps. They get ask about each other in interviews/talk shows. A lot of shipping & happy ending? Thank you in advance❤️

Word Count: 3.7K

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, sexual innuendos, Christian Horner, far from home spoilers

—

Becoming Spiderwoman was a dream come true. It was finally the big break you had worked hard for. Being Spiderwoman had its perks, many A-listers would happily slide their way into your DMS hoping they’d get a reply and you’d go on a date with them, sure a few of them were hot and definitely grabbed your attention but looks would only go so far. So many of them would have similar lifestyles to you and things like that could get boring besides, if you force something it never turns out well. 

Your love life seemed bleak well… that was until a Formula one driver announced that he had a crush on you. 

Max Verstappen had been doing some press work with his teammate Sergio Perez when one of the questions asked the pair of you who their celebrity crushes were and Max said that you were. Since that the internet took off a little. You couldn’t scroll through your Instagram timeline without seeing someone make an edit of you and Max or talking about the pair of you despite the two of you never actually meeting. 

All these events led you to now. You and your co-star, Tom Holland, were currently in Miami doing some press for the next upcoming Spiderman film. The pair of you were shooting a Q&A for GQ. Thankfully you and Tom got on like a house on fire. As you were new to the industry Tom would always look out for you, sort of acting like an older brother.

“Hello, I’m Tom Holland!”

“And I’m y/n y/l/n!”

“And we are answering fan questions for GQ.” Tom smiled as he took out a piece of crumpled paper from the pot on the table which contained the questions. “Okay so… if you could take three people to dinner, dead or alive, who would you pick?” He smiled to you as you pondered at the thought. 

“Hmm, I’d have to say, Freddie Mercury,  Carrie Fisher and… I’m gonna say Maggie Smith.”

“Those are good choices.” Tom smiled. 

“Who would you take?”

“It’s hard to pick just three, I’ve met a lot of people I’d want to take to dinner, probably Obama, Lewis Hamilton and Heung Min Son.” He smiled proudly at his answers as you moved on to the next question. 

“Favourite scene you’ve ever filmed in any film or television show?” 

“These are good questions.” Tom smiled, leaning back in his chair. “Probably the scene where all three Peters met one another.”

“Arguably one of the best scenes in cinematic history.” 

“You think so?” Tom smirked. 

“Everyone in the cinema was clapping when it happened.” You smiled at the Brit. 

“What about you?”

“First first scene where I ever wore my suit, finally felt like I made it then.” Tom’s smirk grew to a smile at your words. 

“How sweet.” You could tell Tom was mocking you slightly, never in an ill-intent way more in a childish way. “Next one.” He dived his hand in before laughing. “Oh you’ll love this one, who is your celebrity crush?” 

“Well we all know yours.” 

“And I know yours.” Tom acted like a child on Christmas morning, swinging back and forth on his chair. 

“Well I don’t have just one -”

“But I know who fancies you.” His smile got wider. “Max Verstappen! And you fancy him back!”

“Wouldn’t say I fancy the bloke I’ve never met him although, there is something about how he looks post-race, helmet hair Max is something I could look at for hours.” Tom burst into laughter. 

“Has he ever slid into yout Dm’s?”

“He has not but he does follow me.”

“Come on Max,” Tom looked straight at the camera. “If you can drive around a car that fast then you should have the guts to dm her.” 

Well ever since that interview the internet went wild. The edits started becoming more and more frequent, more fans were talking about the pair of you and at that time you honestly thought it was just a bit of fun, Max would like a few of your Instagram posts and maybe comment on a few and you’d do a same. Nothing went further, that was until Red Bull invited you and Tom to the race in Miami. 

When Max found out he’d never been so nervous in his life, not even when he drove the final lap to win his championship. You were set to turn up any minute now alongside Tom Holland and he knew he had to drive the race of his life today after all, he wanted to impress you right? 

“I’ll be your wingman.” Tom opened the door of the car for you, allowing you to climb out. 

“If you’re my wingman I won’t ever get to kiss Max Verstappen.” The pair of you walked over to a Red Bull employee who was taking you around the paddocks and track for the rest of the day.

“Is that your plan?” Tom smirked. “To kiss him?”

“If you get to have your celebrity crush then I think I deserve mine.” You winked as you collected your passes, scanning them past security. 

“That’s why I need to be your wingman, I got mine and I can help you get yours.”

“Believe it or not Tom I can flirt my way through situations without you by my side.” 

“Is that why you’re single and needed me to mention Max in that interview to get here or?” His smirk grew, making you push him lightly as the pair of you laughed at his words. 

Miami was full of celebrities, even Michelle Obama had turned up. You had been watching this sport for years now and never in your life had you seen anything quite like Miami. It was hard to navigate through the paddock let alone the actual garages. Tom extend his arm back so you could hold onto his forearm as you reached the garages, last thing Tom wanted was you to get lost when Max was nearby. 

“And this is Christian Horner, I’m sure the two of you know who he is.” The woman who was taking you on a tour smiled at the man who extended his hand for Tom to take. Tom shook his hand, smiling as the pair said hello to one another. 

Christian turned to you, his arms open as you shared a quick hug. “There’s the woman we don’t stop hearing about.” You laughed at his words. “Not only do my daughters talk about you all the time but so does Max.” Christian turned his head, making eye contact with Max and calling him over. 

Max didn’t know why Christian was suddenly calling over. He was yet to see that you were standing alongside his racing Principle. When he got closer his face dropped at the sight of the woman he’d had a crush on the moment he’d seen her in the Spiderman trailer. 

“Ah Max, finally, I’m sure I don’t need to introduce you to y/n y/l/n, considering you don’t shut up about her.” 

Max went bright red at Christian's words. He kept his gaze firmly on you, trying his best not to stare but he couldn’t help it. The woman he’d spent hours thinking about was standing before him and she was wearing his merchandise. Max could have sworn he’d just died and gone to heaven. Sensing how awkward this could get your wingman decided to step in.

“Christian do you happen to have a bathroom around here?” Tom glanced over at you, a smirk on his lips as he spoke. 

“Ah yes, I’ll show you it.” He smiled, leading Tom off which just left you and Max alone. 

“Hey.” You smiled up at the man, hoping to break the ice between the two of you.

God even your voice was perfect. 

“Hi… H-how are you?” 

“I’m good thank you.” Your smile was bright, the sight made Max’s heart flutter. It was supposed to be a stupid crush yet here he was, already stuttering. “How are you? Nervous for the race?”

He let out a deep breath, letting a small smile escape his lips before he spoke. “I’m okay, you do tend to get used to a few things when you’ve been racing for a while.”

“Oh yeah?” You smirked. “Never nervous about driving cars that could kill you but you stutter over a woman?” 

Being an actress meant it was easy to hide your emotions, including ones like you had for Max. He might have been able to mask his nervousness but you could. Seeing how confident Max was in interviews and online it was amusing to see him crumble under you after just a few words. 

“I - Umm -” He stuttered yet again. You let out a small smile which turned into laughter, your laughter made Max relax slightly. “H- have you been around the track yet?”

“I have not.” You looked him up and down. “Care to show me? If you have time -”

“Yes!” Max may have said a little too loudly. “Yes, I have time.” He flashed a smile. 

“I’ve got an idea.” Christian suddenly came into view. “What about if the pair of you do a hot lap? We’ll set up some cameras and get the pair of you to answer questions. I’m sure if we just tweeted something out now we could get a handful of questions for the pair of you to answer.” Normally questions wouldn’t be asked but Christian had a plan, he knew everyone wanted to know about you and Max so the questions would be interesting. 

“Are you happy to do that, with me?” You turned to Max, silently hoping he’d say yes. 

“Well, I’m not going to let one of the other guys take you away am I?” He gained some confidence before mouthing a ‘thank you’ to Christian as the pair of you left to get ready. 

The Red Bull social media team set up some cameras in the car they planned on using and screenshotted some questions you’d read out to Max as he drove. Christian and Tom made sure the questions had some interesting takes. 

Max handed you a helmet as he opened the sports car door for you. Flashing a smile you thanked him before he joined you. “Nervous?” He asked. 

“Yeah a little.” He laughed at your reply, starting the car up, and allowing the engine to roar. He looked at you as the engine grew louder. “Is that you’re way of trying to make me nervous?”

“Depends how you are with fast cars.” 

“Depends who’s driving it.” You smirked at the man as he held his gaze with yours. Max smirked as he set off the car, catching you entirely off guard. “Max!” You screamed as the car picked up its pace without warning. The Dutch only laughed as you gripped onto the side of the door for support. 

“Come on it’s not that fast -”

“Not that fast?” You yelled as he picked up the pace before drastically slowly down to turn the corner, making you scream at the sudden change. Max couldn’t contain his laughter as he drove. 

“You need to ask the questions.” Max turned his attention back to the road. 

“Fuck the questions!” 

Max kept laughing, he couldn’t believe this confident woman he’d met only minutes ago who was so confident around him was now screaming and holding onto the car like she was going to die. “Just start with the first one.”

You pulled up the phone reluctantly. “What is the one thing you like the most about me?”

“You have really pretty eyes.” He turned the corner, making you jerk to the side. You held your arm out for support but the only support you had that wasn’t the door was his arm. You grabbed his arm, the action made Max look down at your hand before his eyes trailed up your body, scanning every inch of you with a sly smile. 

The fans were going to have a field day with that shot. 

“Thank you!” You screamed again as he sped up. “Jesus Max, umm what I like the most about you? You look pretty hot when you’ve finished racing.” It was bold of you to say that to him but you’d already said that on GQ. 

“Next question?”

“If you had to take y/n on a date, where would you take her?” You laughed at the question. 

“Depends.”

“On what?” 

“Well would you want a more expensive date or a relaxed one? We could order in and follow Bob Ross painting tutorials or we could go to the Ritz.”

“Very creative Verstappen.” You looked back at the phone as you read out another question. “Who would win in a staring competition between the two of you.”

“Definitely me.” Max turned his head to look at you, not leaving your gaze as the pair of you stared at one another for a couple of seconds. 

“Max look at the road!” You broke away from his hold, pointing to the road but Max only flickered his gaze forward for a split second before looking back at you. 

“We’re fine.” He smirked, putting his foot down just that inch more making the car speed up. 

“Yeah you are -”

“Do you do your own stunts?” He suddenly asked. 

“Some of them why?”

“What about at the end of the film, you swung across that building and fell but landed on your feet, was that all you?”

“Yeah, I had a harness on so I didn’t die as we were rather high up -”

“Were you scared?” 

“No.”

“So you’re not scared of jumping and swinging around a set that’s high off the ground but you’re scared of me driving fast?”

“I’m not scared you just took me off guard with it -” Max suddenly turned another corner making you grab onto his arm again. “Fucking hell Max.” 

The pair of you had completed the lap but Max wasn’t done there. “How good are you with spinning?” Your eyes widened at his words, knowing exactly what he was going to do. 

“Max no -” Max had already set off, creating doughnuts with the car, he didn’t stop at just one either, he kept going. Maybe it was because he loved the way you held onto his arm to feel safe or because he was able to just have you alone and when he was in a car he felt confident with you. 

Eventually, Max had to stop. His cheeks hurt from the constant laughing. He quickly opened his door, running around the car to open your door. He leaned over you to undo your seatbelt before helping you out of the car. “You okay?” He smiled, reaching up to take your helmet off whilst the two of you were blissfully unaware that your interactions were still being filmed. 

“A little dizzy but hey that was fun.” You smiled back as he removed his own helmet, earning him an interesting gaze from you as you were taken back by his state. 

“Fun? You screamed the whole time.” 

“I scream in the bedroom, doesn’t mean I’m not having fun, maybe if you’re good enough you might hear it too.” You sent him a smirk and just like that, you had made Max Verstappen weak at the knees. Reaching up you placed a kiss on his cheek before walking away from him, leaving a stunned Max Verstappen to blush at your actions.

Max had won in Miami and needless to say the after-party was an experience. You woke up the next morning to a flood of ship edits and posts of you and Max. The hot laps video came out just after Max had won and fans didn’t need to wait long for more content of the two of you. 

Photos started to circulate of the pair of you at the party. Max had his arms around you as the pair of you danced to the music. You spent your morning scrolling through multiple video edits and photo edits of the two of you. You even liked a few, knowing that would also more than likely set the fans off even more. 

You wished you could have stayed in Miami for longer but you had to fly to London with Tom, the pair of you were set to appear on The Graham Norton show for more interviews. 

“Morning Mrs Verstappen.” Tom smirked as you met him outside your hotel room. “Is Max in there with you?”

“No, he isn’t.” 

“So did the pair of you -”

“No, we didn’t do anything like that.” You huffed, pulling your hoodie closer as the pair of you left to catch your flight. Your phone vibrated in your hand, you looked down to see that Max had Dm’d you. A smile crept across your face at the sight. “Not yet anyway.”

On the plane you were finally able to answer his message. 

Max: Christian told me you were leaving today, have you left yet? X

You: We have, we’re going back to London for press, I’m sorry I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye x

Max: Don’t apologise, are you free on the 25th? X

You: I believe so, how come? X

Max: Will you still be in London then? X

You: Yes x

Max: I wanted to ask you in person but seeing as you’re no longer in Miami I’ll ask you now, would you like to go on a date? As you’re in London we could go to the Ritz? I’ll book everything and if you’re free that weekend would you like to come to Monaco with me for the race? X

You: I’d love to Verstappen x

Max: Thank fuck x

“What’s got you smiling like that?” Tom’s voice grabbed your attention, snapping your head up your smile faded when you realised what he was alluding to. 

“Nothing -”

“He’s messaged you hasn’t he?”

“He -”

“What’s he said?” Tom smirked. “Oh come on y/n you’ve got to tell me -”

“He asked me out on a date, he wanted to ask in person but considering we’re up in the sky that might be rather hard.”

“What did you say?”

“Take a guess.” It was now your time to smirk. 

“Where are the two of you going?”

“The Ritz -”

“Bloody hell he must fancy you, that place is expensive.” 

You arched your brows at his comment. “As if your bank account would be damaged if you went there.” 

“You know if things work out well between the two of you we could all go on a double date.”

“Well I hope they do because I’m going to Monaco with him after.”

“Please use protection I don’t want mini y/n’s running around, one’s bad enough.” Tom smiled as you flipped him off, sinking back into your chair to text Max. 

— 

“y/n I have to ask.” You sat alongside Tom and a few other celebrities as Graham Norton started to interview everyone. He was yet to ask about Max which was surprising considering it was all anyone was talking about currently. “You and Max Verstappen…” The crowd cheered as you broke out into a smile. “Is there anything between the two of you?”

“Well…” Your smile didn’t falter. “I hope so.” The crowd screamed again. “We have a date set up and well… who knows what will happen.”

It wasn’t just you who had been questioned about the two of you. Max had to deal with interviews all year round, thankfully for you, it was only when you had an upcoming project coming out or if you were invited on a talk show out of the blue. He’d said the same, that the two of you were going on a date in the near future. You knew it would be hard to keep your relationship hidden from the public eye as everyone was still very much obsessed with the two of you but the reaction was very positive so maybe the two of you could be the next parents of Hollywood, despite his profession.

You’d managed to survive the endless questions and the constant teasing from Tom who was determined to have your upcoming relationship talked back so maybe the press would back down from his. 

Opening the door to one of the dressing rooms which held your belongings you were met with bright ocean eyes and a mess of brown hair. Standing in the middle of your dressing room was a very tired Max Verstappen who evidently took the first flight he could to London after you’d left. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You looked down at his hands which had a large bouquet of flowers tightly grasped between them. 

“I - I’ve just realised how weird this must be -” His confidence fell. You warmed to his words, he really did like you. 

“It’s not weird, if anything I’m actually rather impressed you managed to get a flight out here, make yourself look presentable after that hangover you must have gotten last night and pick up flowers.”

“I am very tired.” He let out a breath of relief. 

“Well…” You stepped closer to him, your hands resting above his. “Why don’t you come home with me and this time I’ll drive.” 

“Sounds perfect.” He planted a kiss on your forehead. “I hope you like the flowers too, I wasn’t sure which ones to get so Daniel helped.”

“They’re beautiful Max.” You took them into your hands, admiring how stunning they were before moving one hand to lace into his. “Come on, I’m fucking shattered.” 

Needless to say, the photos of the two of you holding hands as you left the set went down a treat on social media. 

#max vertsappen imagines #f1 imagine #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen one shot #max verstappen #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1

[bxttxrflybxddie]

|Dating Mime Bomb|

a/n: GOD i love this mime skdjlsbdksbdks pls let me be self-indulgent lmao please enjoy

pairing: mime bomb x gn!reader

post type: headcannons

requested: yes!

word count: 750+

warnings: thieving, major fluff, brief mentions of past bullying, possibly brief mention of monogamy? (mentioned how you're his fav person), might make a pt. 2, or a drabble, or a continuation that isn't safe for minors lmao idk it's 4am!

Mime Bomb adores you! There’s no use hiding how you’re running through his mind all day. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t, since anybody could guess from the lovestruck expression on his painted features. He wears his heart on his sleeve.

He’s your biggest supporter, for better or for worse. He’s always up for tagging along on any mischief (preferably criminal) you’re up to. He keeps an eye on you since you’re his favorite person, but invite him anyway! It's the thought that counts!!

Working together on missions is a blast. (Both of you working for VILE or not.)  Between romantic gestures and getting some needed alone time, the beautiful scenery changes the setting from an expedition to a date. Even if VILE doesn’t land their sticky fingers on a prized artifact, you and Mime Bomb never leave the area empty-handed. (You’re holding each others! And perhaps stolen property.)

Indulging in his interests is one of the best ways to make him feel appreciated. Get him some merchandise from a musical and he’ll reward you with either mimed kisses or a gift in return! You don’t need to tell him what you’re interested in, he knows from his pining before you two got together. (Tell him anyway, he’ll love that you want him to know your passions.)

Downtime is the best time. As much as he likes his mime getup, and how loveable you may find it too, Mime Bomb bare-faced in ordinary clothing is a beautiful sight. He can rub his face on your chest/lap/head/shoulder/etc. without worrying about redoing or transferring his foundation, you get a peek into his everyday style, and you can finally see how red he gets after flustering him.

Tease him, be relentless. He’s been bullied, picked on, and made fun of his whole life. He can take just about anything you give him out of pure experience. Lovingly satirize him but give him the space to do it back to you. Not only is this great for inside jokes between the two of you, but it’s almost healing for him. To laugh with someone instead of being laughed at is something he never processed since he was always the butt of the joke. It’s like rough-housing but with words and actions instead of physical contact. Physically tease him too, lingering touches and featherlight kisses make him swoon.

Kissing him, lipstick on or not, is an art form between you both. It’s sacred and cherished, with the everlasting fear that each lock of lips might be the last. Holding hands is also attached to sweet moments. Since he normally wears gloves, it’s not often you’re allowed to feel the skin of his palms or the bones of his knuckles. He’ll allow you to paint his nails, but he normally chooses black so prepare to stock up.

He does daydream about a future with you. Either by a continuation of your relationship now or maybe something big and new. He wants you by his side and him by yours through thick and thin. You’re his person; his rock, and he tries to let you know in every little shared moment. 

Mime Bomb is arguably the stealthiest operative that VILE has had, which means that he’ll be completely silent without always meaning to. You’re jumpscared constantly, but you learn to get used to it since it’s an accident. Little do you know that he purposefully shocks you sometimes, he thinks it’s cute. He also lets you get away with a lot more than he should just because he thinks you’re adorable. Stolen items, deceiving others (not himself, to make that crystal clear), even possibly joining Team Red, He’s turning a blind eye. If your actions carry a heavy burden to conceal, he’ll expect a prize. (Date Night is now THRICE a week!!)

Unsurprisingly, not a bad significant other. What he lacks in experience is made up in enthusiasm. Your dear mime is a theater kid and a hopeless romantic, so he’ll sometimes pull actions or lines (nonverbally) from scenes of movies, musicals, and even a few shows. If you know what he’s referencing, act out the corresponding part to see him stumble before regaining his confidence. 

He feels incredibly special that you’re in his life and your presence is doing wonders for his mental health. Knowing that someone is in his corner after so many years is a comfort he’s never known before. However, he’d like to learn and repay it if it’s with you.

© BXTTXRFLYBXDDIE

#mime bomb #x reader #x you #x yn #carmen sandiego #carmen sandeigo 2019 #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego netflix #carmen sandeigo netflix #carmen sandeigo #x gn reader

[theroseredreaper]

The Dragon In The Woods

Twisted Wonderland

Summary: The quest from Lord Flamm seemed simple enough. Go the woods and find the wandering dragon. Get the dragon out of the woods, by any means necessary, so that the towns people could use the woods again. Only…despite what he insists, there is no dragon there?

Word Count: 1900 ✯ AO3 Version

Characters: Platonic Malleus Draconia x Gender Neutral Reader

Tags: Gender Neutral Reader, Reader Referred to With ‘You’ Pronouns, brief mentions of Rollo Flamm (he doesn’t actually show up), Platonic x Reader, Not Edited

Go on an adventure, they said. It would be fun, they said! You’ll get paid well, you’ll be the talk of the town! You’ll be treated like a hero for taking on Lord Flamm’s quest!

Now you were lost in the woods in the middle of the night, a boot missing, utterly chilled to the bone. Alone. No friends in sight. With a dragon allegedly on the loose.

Sure, Riddle and Trey had warned you not to wander away from the campsite. Yes, you should have understood the danger of the situation when even Che’nya was being serious about it too. But in your defense, the green fireflies you’d seen in the distance as the sun had begun to set were rather pretty and totally warranted investigating. While the others were conveniently occupied with setting up camp and thus could not supervise you.

At least, that was what you were telling yourself to feel better about the night time chill the exposed toes on your bootless foot. You should’ve taken the socks that Riddle had offered you earlier.

Who knows how long you had been lost? Certainly not you. You were half debating whether to call it a night and find a tree to sleep in or to continue your wandering, when a light in the distance caught your attention. Could it be? Had your aimless meandering actually brought you back to the campsite?

Eager for the warmth of a fire to defrost your poor toes, you hobbled on quickly towards the light. Only…the closer you got, the more obvious it became that what you saw was actually not the light of a campfire at all. The light was actually the glow of a wood stove, just within view of a window in a humble log cabin.

…hadn’t Lord Flamm told your party that no one lived in these woods on account of the wandering dragon?

“Well now, this is a surprise. You are human, are you not?”

A deep, smooth voice called out to you from behind and you whirled around to find what was arguably the tallest man you’d ever met. In the dark of night, the only thing you could really make out were his bright green eyes. Something about how they seemed to almost glow nagged at the back of your mind, but the longer you stared at his eyes, the fuzzier your mind felt.

“What brings you to my home? I was told no one lives in these woods,” he approached you, arms carrying a load of chopped wood, looking down at you with a wary sort of curiosity.

“I’m…lost,” you manage to get out past the fog in your head, the idle thought ‘Yes, Lord Flamm told me the same thing’ sluggishly tugging at you but not fully registering. “Was…separated from my friends…”

“Oh? There are more of you?”

You nodded, breaking out your stupor when he looked away from you to open the door behind you.

“Yes! We’ve come to deal with the dragon roaming around these woods, actually! Did you move here recently or something? You could be in danger!”

The man paused, blinking at you owlishly, before a chuckle escaped him unbidden. He attempted to hold himself back but soon found himself doubling over in laughter, waving away your concern and offense.

“You are most certainly fearless! You need not worry for me, I am in no danger. There are no dragons here any longer.”

From the glow of the wood stove inside you could now make out just the haziest hint of a wry smile on his face. The whole situation was suspicious, quite honestly, but your eyes met his again and you found yourself unable to grasp why you found it alarming to begin with. If anything, you were actually simply irritated, for if he had been the one that dealt with the dragon instead of you and your party, then that meant that Lord Flamm wouldn’t pay the four of you on account of you all not actually doing anything.

“Oh, uh…,”your brows furrowed, trying to gather the thoughts that just kept scattering away from you no matter how hard you tried to concentrate. “I guess I…I guess I can report back to the mayor that the woods are…dragon-free, then…”

He hummed in response, entering into his home, while you felt a headache beginning to form behind your eyes. The woods seemed to stretch endlessly into the night beyond you, the foliage too thick for even a sliver of moonlight to illuminate any paths. The only light around for miles seemed to the be the one coming from this stranger’s wood stove. The thought of wandering back out there…was entirely unappealing.

“Wandering the woods in the dead of night would not be very wise, would it?” he said, catching your attention again. His eyes swept over you appraisingly while you squirmed under his stare. Whatever he was looking for out of you, he must have found, because he then said: “Come in and warm yourself. You may stay until there is enough light for you to find your way home.”

“Huh?”

He simply gestured for you to enter, clearly not going to repeat himself for you. You were fairly sure that you ought to be more wary of him than you are, but his eyes on yours make any thoughts of the possible danger fog away in the back of your mind. You trotted into the warm, inviting cabin before he could change his mind. Once inside, you immediately began to feel warmth seep back into your bones and the haze on your mind start to fade as the man went to feed his logs to the wood stove.

“There are furs on the lounge that you may use,” he said in lieu of a goodnight, walking away to a door just beyond the wood stove. “Rest well.”

With that, he left you alone for the night. And rest well you did: wrapped up in the cozy furs on the lounge that you were pretty sure was just a regular old couch, the glow of the wood stove a gentle night light, you had the best sleep you’d had in weeks.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The first hazy thoughts floating aimlessly in your waking mind were ‘comf’ and ‘sun’ as you stuck your head out the fur blanket burrito you had wrapped yourself up in during your sleep. Blinking the room into focus, the pale light of dawn coming in through the window revealed to you details about the cabin that you’d been unable to see during the dark of night. The wall by the couch had a multitude of free standing shelves resting upon it, upon which a great variety of knickknacks were lovingly displayed. Particularly shiny rocks, vibrant flower crowns that seemed frozen in time, haphazardly carved wooden figures, misshapen knitting projects, several well-worn beginner’s cookbooks…There were even some picture frames tucked into the very corner of the furthest shelf, as if purposely shoved from view but with too much care to be abandoned entirely. Before you could get up the see what the photo was, the smell of frying eggs and toasting bread hooked your attention away from the shelves and into the kitchenette a few steps away.

‘Is he all alone out here?’ was the passing thought that occupied your brain as you followed your nose.

“Ah, awake, are you? Good morning,” he greeted, plating the eggs and toast that had lured you over in the first place. If he’d seen you eyeing his things, he gave no indication of it. “I’ve made enough for the both of us. Come sit with me.”

Not one to turn up free food, you hummed something that vaguely resembled an agreement as you followed him back to the couch, accepting your plate as you sat next to him. As simple as the meal was, it was filling and comforting. A satisfying meal after all your night time wandering. Contentedly eating the last bite of your breakfast, having practically inhaled it, you looked up to find him watching you with thinly veiled amusement.

Remembering yourself, you quickly bowed at the waist at him. “Thank you for the meal! And thank you for your hospitality!”

“Your fearlessness is really quite something,” was his only response, which made you look up in confusion.

What was he going on about?

Then you noticed: now that it was morning, you could properly make out his features. A pair of elegant black horns curling about his head, high cheekbones, eyes that now appeared practically reptilian, the fangs in his smile…even his ears were inhuman, as was how deathly pale he was. Some part of you felt that perhaps you really should be scared, especially with his near demonic appearance and maybe deep down you were kind of intimidated by him and his appearance, but…

“Why would I be scared of you?” you asked with a frown. If he had wanted to hurt you, he had plenty of opportunities all through the night. Sure, he could be one of those deranged types that enjoyed psychologically torturing people, but the way he’d offer you his couch and even made you breakfast…you felt that he wasn’t that kind of person. “You helped me when I was lost and even gave me a meal when you didn’t have to. You haven’t given me a single reason to be scared of you.”

Now it was turn to be confused, staring at you with wide eyes. “My appearance does not frighten you?”

“I mean…,” your eyes strayed back up to the horns on his head. “It is a little shocking and I’m curious about the horns and the glowing eyes and the fangs, but…it’s not really any of my business, y’know? It’s only really a one time shock factor.”

His lips twitched, eyeing you curiously. “What an odd child you are.”

You scoffed, ready to respond with some sort of come back, but he was already taking your plate and walking away before you could come up with anything.

‘The morning light is strong now,” he said, gaze directed at the window by the wood stove. “You’ll have no trouble finding your companions today.”

Your eyes followed his gaze to the window and you were able to just make out the smoke of a campfire in the distance.

You’d actually been close to your friends this entire time.

“Oh…you’re right,” your eyes lingered on the window before you turned back to him, only to find him with his back turned to you as he washed the plates that two of you had used. “…uh, thanks again for helping me. I really appreciate it.”

He looked back at you with another amused smile.

“I enjoyed the company. Good luck on your journey home, adventurer.”

Gathering your things and making for the door, you couldn’t help but thank him one more time, earning you a chuckle and a wave goodbye. You waved back, some part of you hesitant to leave, but you steeled yourself and turned, putting one foot out the door. Exhaling, you lifted your head to focus on the campfire smoke in the distance, when something nagged at the back of your mind.

“Oh, I - !”

When you whirled around, there was nothing there but forest.

“I…I never asked your name…”

And I never got to ask about the dragon either…

Likes and reblogs are loved and appreciated!

#twst x reader #twst malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #platonic x reader #fanfic #twst fanfiction #twst fanfic #platonic reader #fanfiction #twisted wonderland x reader #twst malleus #malleus draconia #twst malleus draconia

[hmserebusadjacent]

One dance

Part of Seven Days of Izzy Hands week

Izzy Hands x Male Reader (Developing Friendship, Developing Feelings, both Aromantic Asexual)

Summary: Izzy Hands chooses you as his dance partner at a Regency ball to get Edward off his back, and finds in you the hope that had been missing from his life for years.

(If you want to see the dance this fic is referencing, type Emma 2009 dance scene into YouTube. I'm a fan of Jane Austen and adaptations of her works, what can I say?)

Word count: 1,721

Fic link: One dance - Horatio_Hands - Our Flag Means Death (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

“Come on, Iz! Have at least one dance!”

Izzy Hands rolled his eyes at his friend.

“There’s plenty of other people not dancing. The floor doesn’t need my clumsy footwork.”

Edward raised both of his eyebrows theatrically.

“Yes but all of those other people have had at least one dance. And here you are with not even one under your belt! People might start to believe the rumours…”

Oh, Izzy was fully aware of the rumours. That he would spend the rest of his life alone, preferred it that way, liked nothing better than his own company and of those few within his inner circle. His disdain for these rumours were self-evident by the fact that he had ignored them for years and carried on his merry way.

Izzy wouldn’t describe himself as happy with his lot in life, but it was his own and that was good enough.

“You and I know to ignore them…”, Izzy reminded the other man, taking a swig from his glass.

Edward made a little noise of frustration next to him, and Izzy hid a victorious smile behind his sleeve. He did enjoy riling up his friend when he could. There was very little other sport to be had on most days. 

“Just dance with someone for me, then. Call it an early birthday present.”

The older man stamped down the urge to sigh or roll his eyes again, merely glancing over at his friend to confirm his suspicions: Edward wouldn’t let him get away with not dancing with someone. And, even worse, if Izzy didn’t pick the man himself, Edward would pick for him. Never again.

“Fine”, Izzy conceded, turning away again as Edward beamed him a smile.

“Who’s the lucky fella?”

That was easy. Izzy Hands had spotted you a second ago mingling by one of the windows, staring out at the night sky. You had been seated next to each other at dinner and even Izzy had to admit that your conversation was more interesting than that of the people he normally had to endure. 

Arguably you could still say no to a dance, and then Izzy would have to think of a plan B that may or may not require retrieving Fang from his quiet place in the corner of the room where he had been for most of the evening.

But only time would tell.

“Mr Darcy”, Izzy said, motioning toward you with his glass. He then fobbed that glass off onto Edward and began walking away.

“Wish me luck”, Izzy murmured over his shoulder but by that point he was too far away for Edward to call back to unless he wanted to cause a scene with the noise.

In and out of the crowd Izzy Hands wove, ignoring the stares he received at his out of fashion suit. The closer he got to you, the more Izzy slowly began to be pulled in by you again. There was something oddly calming about your appearance, and something intriguing as well. You’re just here for a dance, Izzy had to remind himself. Maybe some more conversation if you are lucky. Don’t get sucked in.

As he neared you, Izzy called out.

“Mr Darcy. Admiring the stars, are we?”

You turned round with an easy going smile on your face, not even seeming to be shaken by the man’s sudden arrival. If anything, you looked happy about it.

“Ah, Captain Hands! I was, if you would care to join me.”

Don’t mind if I do, Izzy thought to himself as he inclined his head politely in thanks. He joined you at the window, focusing out past the reflections of the candles to the night sky and found himself drawing in his breath in a small gasp. The sky was so clear that all the stars in the world seemed to be visible, maybe even a few planets too.

“Amazing”, Izzy found himself proclaiming, seeing you smile at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Indeed. The sights haven’t been this good for a long while. I confess it has rather stopped me from dancing as much as my friends should like me too.”

Ah. It seems like Izzy wasn’t the only one.

“I confess that my lack of dancing has been through spite rather than for a more valid reason like yours.”

The laugh that you let out did a funny thing to Izzy’s heart. Calm yourself, man.

“Some might call mine an invalid reason. But I’m too content to care.”

Izzy chanced a glance at you and you really did look content. He almost envied you. Unsure of what else to say, Izzy returned his gaze to the window. He could feel you looking at him for a moment, his cheeks flushing under the attention.

“I may have a scheme that could benefit us both, Captain Hands. What say you to a dance?”

Well, that was easier than I expected it to be.

“Lead the way, sir”, Izzy said with a small bow, motioning toward the dance floor where other couples were starting to congregate. You led the way, looking back to make sure that Izzy was following you.

"Ginny's Market", an announcer at the head of the hall called out, and Izzy breathed out a breath of relief. He actually knew this one. It would require you both getting closer to each other than Izzy had planned, but that needn't be a bad thing. You seemed to know it too judging by the smile that came to your face. Even Izzy had to admit that you had a lovely smile. He felt quite privileged to have caused a few of them so far. 

The pair of you gained a few interested glances from onlookers as you took your places opposite each other. It felt oddly nice to stand up with a man in a crowd of people, to have Izzy’s own wants plain for other people to see.

And then the music was starting, and Izzy's mind was immediately split between wanting to enjoy your radiant smile and the need to concentrate on bowing to you.

Then the two of you were dancing. Stepping forwards, and then backwards. Joining hands and spinning in a slow circle, the first touch of your hands electric and then the rest was pleasant warmth. As you wrapped your arms around each other, your other hands above your heads, Izzy couldn't help but let his gaze flicker down to your lips whilst you were steadfast in your gaze, a little uptick of your lips the only indication that you had noticed. Then your arms were linked and you were pacing back and forth, both of you moving so fluidly and in time with each other that it was as if you had been dancing for years.

It was at this point that as the two of you moved places up the crowd Izzy caught sight of Edward, swaying in time with the music with a ridiculous grin on his face. Damn him, of course he was watching.

Although when you came back into Izzy's field of view and were bowing so adorably again, Izzy couldn't bring himself to care. The candlelight reflected in your eyes when you got closer again, showing brilliant shades of blue. Your hands fitted together almost perfectly, warmth felt even through gloves. Your heights were perfectly matched so there was no awkwardness when you twirled, easily inhabiting the others' space. On the pull away Izzy noticed you flicking a glance down to his lips and cheered internally for a hope that flickered into life like a candle flame.

Moving up the crowd again, Izzy was even more focused on you. Even you had stopped looking around at the crowd, keeping your gaze fixed on Izzy and constantly offering him little smiles that showed just how much you were enjoying this. Izzy had to admit that he was enjoying himself too, just letting the moment overtake him and draw him in.

He hadn't enjoyed himself whilst dancing like this for a very long time. But right now, in this room with this intriguing man before him, Izzy was content.

The only thing that could bring down his mood at this stage was the realisation that there was only one more rotation of the circuit before you would be stopping this elegant dance of yours. So, in a uniquely non Izzy like way, Izzy Hands dared to dream.

He allowed a little more warmth to flood his gaze, grasped your hands more firmly and squeezed. Much to his delight, you squeezed back, even chancing getting closer than you had done before when you twirled around together. You seemed to be just as into this dance as Izzy was, and the old captain could barely believe it.

All too soon you had both returned to your original places on the dance floor and were bowing to each other once more, perhaps just a bit of longing in your gaze before you joined the rest of the dancers in applauding the musicians.

That just left Izzy to offer his hand to you and for you to take it willingly, allowing yourself to be led back to the window you had been staring out of originally.

"Well!", you started to say as Izzy gently dropped your hand, "You dance very well, Captain Hands. Thank you for that treasure."

Once again Izzy Hands felt his cheeks flushing, delighting in having been able to please so effortlessly.

"Thank you. Rarely has a dance been that enjoyable."

You toasted the man with your reclaimed glass before taking a swig, maintaining eye contact all the while. God, Izzy was fascinated by you. He could do little to deny it now, not when he had been so open during the dance.

Perhaps…

Yes, perhaps something could be made here after all.

"Would you agree to being introduced to my friend Edward? He'll want to meet you after the spectacle we just made."

You smiled, nodding.

"I would be delighted to."

You paused, smile widening.

"Perhaps we could take a walk together to the coast sometime. Get to know one another better."

For the first time in a long time, Izzy Hands felt genuine hope flood his heart.

"I would like that very much", Izzy said with a fond smile.

#izzy hands #izzy fucking hands #izzy hands era #izzy hands our flag means death #our flag means death #erebus adjacent's seven days of izzy hands #seven days of izzy hands x reader #seven days of izzy hands #izzy hands x male reader #izzy hands x reader #ofmd x reader #erebus adjacent writes izzy hands #erebus adjacent writing adventures #erebus adjacent writing links

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Twenty-One — Spectral

It wasn’t just the light that made her shine, though; it was her, the same person in those pictures with Dad, no gray to her skin or sullen cheeks or bones that protruded just a bit too much to be healthy. Her hair was even back to fully pink, brushed out of her face as those eyes, Brent’s eyes, met mine, turning soft.  “Mom?”

5.8k words | 18 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: unreality vibes if those freak you out

⚠ AUTHORS NOTE: image credit to Withoutafuss on deviantart. Full (and absolutely beautiful) version here

The scent faded in first. 

It smelled like the beauty of nature. Like sunlight bouncing off warmed rocks and fertile soil. There was something flowery there I couldn’t name if you asked me; usually flowers came with pollen, and pollen would stock up my nose. But not this time. 

There wasn’t any sound, which should have scared me. No birds or crickets or the scream of cicadas. There was a breeze, but even then it barely whispered. I shifted slightly, and something standing against me tickled my nose. That’s what got me to spring up from my slumber, jolting up straight in place with a gasp. 

I was lying in a field of barley, hidden away in its heart by the tall stalks until I stood. The golden grain stretched as far as I could see, all the way to the horizon and probably past it, a beautiful offset to the clear blue sky. There was light, but…I couldn’t find the sun, no matter how hard I looked. Skyline to skyline was alight, but void. Just blue. Where the hell was I?

I fought to remember what happened. How I got here. Arguably, my biggest question at first was where the fuck was the sun, but that melted away when I realized I…I didn’t know where I was. Why I was here. Wasn’t I at the Longhouse a bit ago? How did…

Barley doesn’t grow in winter. It’s a spring crop. Wasn’t it…it was Christmas Eve, right? What was today? There was no snow, it wasn’t cold. I wasn’t even dressed for cold weather — I wasn’t sure if this counted as being dressed at all. 

Water was my dress, as blue as the ocean with the white froth of sea foam billowing at its trims. The wet crept up my chest until it found a comfortable spot to sink into my skin, and didn’t stop its soft ebbs as I stood — the angle of its tide just shifted. 

“What the fuck?” I whispered under my breath, looking around. There was literally nothing, nothing, but a field of gold, stretching until the horizon curved away. I didn’t know it was possible to be freaked out by wide open spaces, but I definitely began to hyperventilate a bit as I spun in place, looking for something, anything that indicated a difference. By my third spin, I wasn’t even sure which way I was originally facing. 

Everything was peaceful, calm, and entirely uncanny. I wracked my brain, trying to think of what happened or how I got here but got nothing but static in response with the briefest of flashes; waves, shattered wood, Brent diving down from a cloudy sky. 

“Brent?” I called out, my voice carrying away with the soft breeze that made the grain ripple like an ocean. He’d have to have a better idea of what was going on, right? I hope so, ‘cause I sure the fuck did not. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to start walking. Arguably, I should have stayed put — it would have made me easier to find. But I couldn’t stay here in the middle of this giant field, not when there was nothing else to go by. I couldn’t even depend on the sun for a directional point, the fucking thing was missing — but I couldn’t leave without leaving behind a hint or something of the sort. 

The water was slow to call up, which was concerning. It slugged onto my arms, moved lazily around my wrists as I forced the streams on my skin down to my hands. I had to leave something behind for Brent, probably something he’d see from the sky. I turned back to the divot in the grain where my sleeping form pressed down the barley and pushed the water out of my hands into the depression, pushing and refining and pinching until there was a liquid version of the Conduit emblem in its crater with an arrow pointing towards my right. 

And once I was satisfied with how it looked, once I was sure he’d see the glint of the two-headed eagle as it reflected rays from a nonexistent source, I turned in the direction of the arrow and started walking. 

You don’t realize how big the world is until you try to trek it on foot — barefoot, I realized. Where the hell were my boots, my leather jacket? I could remember searching through Dad’s closet and pulling out a jacket of his with a little Seattle 138 patch on its arm, and that was gone too. My hair wasn’t even pulled back anymore. 

The barley stretched for miles and I walked each one for hours, maybe even days, if those existed anymore. I’d have to pause, sit and rest for a while, but nothing changed outwardly — including my energy. I was worried time and space and whatever disappeared with the sun, that this was some weird sort of purgatory I was meant to be trapped in to walk forever like some kind of remixed Sisyphis when the sky began to change. The blue lightened a bit, and turned yellow at the edges before pink and purple overtook the entire sky in a way I’d never seen before, sunset triggering throughout its entirety as something dark grew on the horizon. 

It grew taller with each step, hard to really tell what it was in the bright contrast of the sky and the depth of the distance until I was nearly on it. The golden grain disappeared and was replaced with soft dewy grass, running like a border between the fields behind me and the border of trees. It looked like the Clatsop State Forest in Oregon. It looked like home. 

We’d go hiking in forests like this a lot when I was younger — It was one of Dad’s favorite ways to get us out of the house and away from the world. I paused just in front of a toppled, moss-covered trunk to look out at the field behind me, at the trail I walked into it and the sky that was beginning to shift from purple to black even without the sun. I’d walked for what felt like forever, and yet…I wasn’t tired. The soles of my feet weren’t even red, I’d realized when I sat on the ground and crossed them. The journey was barely even registering in my mind as long, already compacting in that disassociated way when you dream, and I decided that had to be what was happening right now. Right? This had to be a dream. A weird one, but a dream. Maybe I fell asleep at Betty’s?

I leaned against the log behind me and watched the purple sky bruise, stars breaking out of the murk unnaturally. Everything was peaceful and quiet and serene but oh so wrong. Stars wouldn’t appear in the sky until I looked away from a point and then glanced back, the lights twinkling like they’d been there the whole time. Nothing made sense! I tried to think about how I could have gotten somewhere like here. There was…Brent had wings, so we’d gone outside at some point. Wood chips…did the Akomish Reservation have a park? Did we sneak away to play at a park? Was I asleep in a tube slide again?

I tried to force myself awake. Pinching the thigh, slapping the face, jumping, counting, all of the tricks people say to use when you want to get out of a nightmare — none of them worked, but they all felt real. This couldn’t be real, right? 

Just to test, though, I filled my hands with water and dunked my face in the cold, trying to see if that’d work. 

It didn’t, but the bite of the cold came with new flashes; frosting arms, frozen ribs. Something twinged hard in my back and suddenly I was reliving those last moments of the true before. Before I froze over, before I fainted in the silt of the Sound. 

I jolted up from my spot, freaking out. Did Archangel get me? I mean, this place had no fucking sun, no moon — just aurora borealis that switched on unnaturally like someone turned on a night light as I dove into the woods, running away from where I was first found. I didn’t know what was going on or where I was. All I knew was something was wrong, and I needed to both get away from where I was left and find out more. 

I wasn’t tired yet. My body felt a lot like how it did when I was suspended in the Sound a while ago; rested yet ready, able to vault over fallen logs and around foliage that scratched at my exposed legs but left no marks. I know, I checked. The slice in my side was gone and while I couldn’t see back there, I didn’t feel any holes left behind by the icicles. Could this have been the long con, that grand plan Augustine was intent on achieving? Weaken Dad for a while so they could move him to some weird facility where the stars seemed to shine a bit too bright — and since I got hurt instead, they decided I’d be the next safest bet into luring out Dad? They’d already tried it once with those Akurans and knew it’d work. I must be their ransom. 

As I ran, I caught more of those brief flashes of life that happened before I went unconscious; there were soldiers that could wield ice, a dozen of them, maybe even more! Were they transferred powers like Augustine’s old footsoldiers, the DUP? She’d know how to do something like that, right? History class only told us the government had the capability to activate inactive Conduits and transfer over an artificial power — nothing beyond that. Couldn’t imagine why they wouldn’t want a bunch of kids to know how to become Conduits. It’s a mystery. 

But that confirmed enough to me; Archangel were making their own soldiers. Maybe not concrete-wielding DUP, but how far could they go? Dozens of troops wielding dozens of different kinds of powers wasn’t exactly a nice idea. Who’s to say they wouldn’t find something stronger than ice or concrete? Who’s to say they weren’t waiting to do something to me?

I had to find the edge of this…whatever it was. Maybe I could break out or escape through an HVAC vent or something. 

Dad was nearly there. I saw him running atop the Sound at the speed of sound, ahead of some…god, it looked like a knight with wings chasing down a thousand demons that ran from hell. Were they chasing him? Was that the Archangel?

Either way, the only thing that mattered was that he had been close, last I saw him. He wouldn’t leave me behind, he wouldn’t have let Archangel take me without being right there ready to get me back out. I had to get to him, try and meet him halfway. 

The forest was beautiful. When the green and the blue of the northern lights that were too far south lit up the canopy, it bled through the leaves in a way that bathed the entire woods in this soft blue glow that reminded me of enchantments. Like this wasn’t some farce built up by a bunch of psychos but an actual border between the real world and something even more magical. Dad used to read me Narnia when I was little, it was our thing; he’d read through a chapter and I’d always return home from school the next day with a new drawing based on it and a complaint from my teacher that I wasn’t paying attention in class. I loved the idea of the Woods Between the Worlds, of a forest full of magic and portals that could transport you everywhere and anywhere so long as you stepped in a puddle. 

Now, I wanted absolutely nothing to do with such a nexus. 

So I ran, the billowed skirt of my watery dress lagging behind me like the splash of choppy waters off of a boat’s body. That was another thing that worried me; where were my clothes? If Archangel got me, that simply meant they had access to me, all of me, and while the worst of what that could mean definitely flew through my head, my biggest worry was that they took a part of me I’d never be able to regain. The copy of my Conduit gene. 

I wasn’t getting tired, but I was getting winded — eventually I leaned against a pine tree, practically collapsing into it, gasping loudly. The woods were worse than the barley fields! I wasn’t sure if I was still running straight, if I was facing the direction I was originally or just spinning in circles. It sure felt like I wasn’t making progress. 

I leaned my forehead against the bite of the bark, scraping my head against the splintering bits just to see if I’d wake up from this nightmare, if I was wrong and just in some delusional stage of sleep paralysis. Of course, it didn’t work though. 

I lifted my head and looked around, already unsure of where I came from. I was in the middle of debating whether I should go forward or just lay down and cry in frustration when I heard…something. Not an owl or a wolf or any of the other scary things that usually prowl at night. It had an electrical patter to it, a chirping noise that sounded all too familiar as a streak of neon pink shot off between some firs far ahead, its illumination barely reaching me. 

“Dad?” I called, shouting, “Dad!” louder when the pink dissipated into the dark of the woods. He was so far, he couldn’t hear me — if he was going faster than the speed of sound, would he even be able to? 

I didn’t care. All I cared about was following him, making sure none of this was a night terror…or worse. 

I was back to running, shooting off parallel to where I saw Dad run. The worst part about his speed was it left behind nothing more to go by than an imprint on the back of my eyelids, guided by that and faith more than anything. I called his name as I ran, breathless begging for him to suddenly shoot in front of me and reassure me that nothing was bad enough that he couldn’t fix. That he was there, he was going to get me out of here, and that everything was going to make sense. That everything was going to be okay. 

I didn’t realize I was nearing the end of the thicket until I burst out of it, nearly tripping over a huge rock that jutted out of the ground in front of me. I was entering a quarry of some sort, only not for regular stone; slabs of translucent crystals laid everywhere, giant geodes cracked in half and lining out the trail down into an open pit. 

It was breathtaking; the shine of the northern lights bounced around in their natural lapidary and escaped out of each corner, bathing the spiral trail deeper into the pit in a reflected green light. Everything rippled down there like sunlight did underwater, mesmerizing me as I fell deeper into the unoccupied trench until I reached the shaft opening for its underground. 

“Dad?” I called out into the entrance, my voice bouncing around a thousand times as it crawled deep into the earth. This was the direction he ran — but to be fair, he could have changed course and I wouldn’t have seen it. I definitely wasn’t sure that he’d go into the cave without a cause.

But if he was looking for me, missed me in the woods, and couldn’t find me anywhere else above surface, he’d look underground next. It was the only place I could think he’d be. 

Inside was illuminated by gas lit lanterns that bathed the burrowed cave in a soft amber glow, the crystals in the walls absorbing the flame and centering its shine, giving off their own glints. There weren’t stalactites — they were the ends of long white crystals all positioned like teeth. In fact, looking at them made something new flash in my mind; Brooke Augustine hiding behind the maw of some giant beast, smirking. Augustine — wasn’t she in Curdun Cay? How’d she get out? 

I nabbed one of the lanterns from a hook in the wall as the trail into the quarry dove deeper. Would Archangel be able to make something like this, something so big not only above ground, but under it? Why would they even be digging in the first place? I mean, unless this was all some elaborate set of some sort, then good for them, it looked great — but just…why? 

God, I needed Dad. 

The ramp dove deeper and deeper, curved in a spiral that left me feeling dizzy. How long had I been walking? That weird feeling was back, already compacting time into something smaller and easier to manage and making me feel like everything was shorter than it really was. I called out Dad’s name a few times as I descended, each step leaving me feeling like I made a wrong choice. I should have stayed above surface, Dad wouldn’t have gone diving in a hole to look for me! Not without a good reason to come looking here — and I hadn’t given him one. I didn’t even leave a little sign I was in here. 

I was about to turn back and climb up the ramp again when light, more light than what was cast by the lanterns, blitzed into view, neon pink bathing the black of the rock as that electrified chirp pattered off again in an echo. “Dad?” I called gently before rounding the corner. Maybe it was some cavern, the end of the excavation, and he’d be right there looking for me. 

No such luck. Instead, I somehow stumbled outside again into a grove with the strangest trees I’d ever seen. 

They were tall like maples, trunks void of any sort of run off until the top third of its bark, but the bark itself…it glistened with rainbow colors that shined with the dance of the auroras above. Like someone took waxy crayons and ran them along the groove of the bark until it melted into the wood, staining it forever. Rows of those as far as I could see, shining away in their cool glow. 

I’d almost forgotten why I came here in the first place — Dad was close. I’d seen him before rounding the corner, and was hearing that same chirping again, growing louder quickly. Pink and blue blew past me so quickly I stumbled back with the buffet of wind, barely caught by a rainbow tree trunk. It took me a moment to recover — the sound made my ears pop so roughly they began ringing, and something about the blast made me dizzy — but I managed to keep an eye on Dad’s neon aura as he blasted past the pit and somewhere into the grove of rainbow trees. 

“Dad!” I shouted, pushing off of the trunk. I was sure he didn’t see me in the woods, but there was no way he didn’t notice me just now! Was he avoiding me?

God, he was quick. He could probably eclipse the speed of light if he really tried, and that did nothing to benefit me or my position as I rushed after him at a normal gait, restricted by my unfortunate humanity. Brent gets metal muscles, Dad can do this — why didn’t I get anything cool? It was bullshit. I was going to have to figure out a way to keep a wave going and ride that wherever I wanted — because this? “This is bullshit,” I gasped as I ran. 

But I ran. Kept it up even as something burned in my left side, the stitch begging me to stop, until I burst out of the trees into arguably the most beautiful place I’d ever been. 

It was that moment before daybreak where the sky itself seemed to struggle to wake up, the last of the stars catching in the glint of the crystals. It looked like a retention pond that was drained out, now a crater lined by nothing but glittering rocks in colors and shades and patterns I’d never seen in real life. I didn’t know there could be pinks that rich or greens that deep in a stone! Their jagged ends stuck out of the edge of the dry pond like scales, patterned in a way that almost tricked my eyes into thinking they were moving. Were these the stones they were trying to find at that excavation site a ways back? No wonder they were digging so deep.

There was a beaten path in the dirt around the edge of the pond, rich smelling soil soft against my feet as I walked around it. Light was beginning to permeate from that unknown source again, an entire day already gone in here, and the way the light bounced off of the crystals…my god. I’d never seen anything like it. It reminded me of figuring out that I could hold my quartz necklace up to a ray of sunlight and cast little rainbows everywhere, only quadrupled in awe; the entire area became basked in rainbows and glittering dots, bouncing off of the grove behind me and dancing in the refraction of my dress. The bottom of the emptied pond was smooth rock, almost white and not at all rough as I flitted down the crystals as a waterfall and regathered from the rush of my liquid dress, standing at the edge of the dome. 

I turned in place, running a finger along the closest wall of crystal to see if any were loose. They were so close together but it didn’t seem like they were placed there, either; blue and pink and purple and green all sprouted beside each other like siblings. 

There was a bzzzzzzZZZT behind me, and the wall I was facing lit up as it absorbed the light of Dad’s neon as he flitted around the pond. I spun in place in time to watch the ball of neon jump, reaching a height that shouldn’t have been possible even with Conduit powers before landing opposite me on the other side of the pond and releasing the grip on the power, form returning…returning to…

Neon stayed in segments, ribbons that acted as clothing waving in the breeze of the speed. There was still an edge to it all, slits in the pink neon skirt that slipped high past her hips and exposed the blue of the undergarment, the two colors creating a geometric crop top that turned purple where their weave intersected. She stayed charged, pulses of neon literally letting off of her skin in soft blitzes that audibly crackled and illuminated everything about her ethereally. It wasn’t just the light that made her shine, though; it was her, the same person in those pictures with Dad, no gray to her skin or sullen cheeks or bones that protruded just a bit too much to be healthy. Her hair was even back to fully pink, brushed out of her face as those eyes, Brent’s eyes, met mine, turning soft. 

“Mom?” I gasped out after forgetting to breathe the entire time she settled in place, straightening. Neon stayed playing on her hands, wrapping around it again and again like a pet snake. 

How…how was she here? Mom was gone. She’d been gone since before I’ve been conscious — so how was she here, in front of me, able to tilt her head to the side slightly while looking at me?

You shouldn’t be here, sweetheart. 

She didn’t open her mouth, and yet I heard her voice rattle around in my head. God, was that what she sounded like? Dad wasn’t kidding when he said she had an accent. The pet name caught on the Jersey dialect and shattered some preconceived notion in me I didn’t even know was there. Modulated and adenoidal, it probably would have pulled me in even without it being the fact that that was my mother speaking. “You’re alive?”

Her words didn’t even really register until I realized my gaping didn’t make that look on her face change. Shouldn’t be here? “Where are we?” I asked, looking around at the crystals. They were all so alight now that the entire area was bathed in either blue or pink. Mom was caught in a halo of her power, a bit hard to look at — but I didn’t avert my eyes. I barely even blinked. “Have they kept you in here this whole time?”

Oh my God. Oh my God! My mom was alive, and she was tangible, right there! I could reach out and touch her if I wanted! I moved forward a half-step, intending to do just that, when Mom flinched in place, backing up to keep me away. Why was she shaking her head? Why did she look so upset, so worried? 

This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. 

Her voice echoed around in my head again, whispers of each syllable catching on each other and amplifying how sad she sounded. “How what’s supposed to go?” I asked. Were they keeping her here for a reason? “Do you know what’s going on?”

She didn’t answer at first; just kept looking at me with a melancholy that slightly shifted in her eyes. Maybe it was because of the tears pooling in mine, I don’t know. It made her drop her hands in defense, though, and take a step closer. 

Something shattered in that air between us, and we were suddenly booking it towards each other — well, I tried to. She burst into a neon aura I realized was much more pink, more pure looking than Dad’s, and beat me to the punch — or, tackle. She sorta slammed into me, enough to make my gasp breathless as for the first time I could remember, my mother hugged me. 

You always imagine moms are soft and gentle. At least, I did. Mom, though? She was tough. The surprisingly strong grip held on to me like I’d turn into sand in her hands and she needed to take the chance to feel me while she still could. I understood, I felt similar; I needed to make up for nearly 15 years of hugs. Love we missed out on as she was, evidently, trapped here. 

Trapped. There had to be something more, something bigger going on. “We should go, there’s gotta be a way out, right?” I asked, pulling back slightly. I didn’t get far; her arms tightened so hard around me that my water rode over her neon, making the contact on my back skin to skin. 

She smiled slightly at this, one arm pulling back to scoop away at the bit of my dress in the back and watch the water drip off of her fingertips. 

Water. Haven’t seen that one yet.

This one came with a laugh, a beautiful sound that chittered like a bird. She smiled wide, shaking her head. 

“It’s pretty cool.” I turned pink, sniffing a bit. “You should see Brent’s though. He gets wings, it’s kinda unfair. He’ll show off for you all you want once we break out.”

Something in her expression changed again, and her one hand came up to cup my face, swiping away at a rogue tear. 

You look so much like your father.

I knew I did, but I was beginning to see pieces of Mom in myself now that she was in front of me: the same lips, the same eye shape. Brent got the most of her but now that I had proof that pieces of her lived in me? 

Well, it was more than I could ask for. It was everything I ever wanted.

Dad. “Have you seen him?” I asked. “I — we were attacked, those Archangel guys — they broke out Augustine and sent her to kidnap him but he wasn’t there — he was coming back, but I had to do something to stop them from killing more people and I—“ I looked around. “I don’t remember how I got here.” Her fingers were playing in my loose hair now, a sensation I never thought I’d experience. The neon in her hand crackled against my eardrum, sent pleasant little tingles up and down my scalp as her hand brushed against my skull. “Come on,” I finally said, grabbing her hand before it could brush through my hair again. “Let’s — there’s gotta be some way we can get out. How long have you been here? Have you noticed anything?”

I meant to keep ahold of her hand when I broke away from her, to begin traveling hand in hand and figuring out how to leave. If I could get Mom out — god, Dad would lose his mind. And Brent! She needed to see Brent! 

But she stayed in place, gently pulling her hand from mine when I took a side-step away and shook her head again. 

I can’t leave. 

“What?” I gawked. “What do you mean you can’t leave?” Why did she suddenly look so dejected? “If we work together, there’s gotta be some way we can break out of whatever this place is! Archangel can’t have a compound that huge, there’s gotta be a border—“ 

Jeanie.

My name. That’s what it sounded like when she said it? I’d never heard it said that beautifully before. 

But she stayed looking at me in that sort of dejected melancholy, like she was regretful of everything she missed. Like she planned on missing more. That sadness in her eyes made something heavy land in my chest. “Mom? What's wrong?” 

She moved forward, both hands coming up to gently grip my head and she tilted it forward, kissing the top of it. She stayed there long after releasing the kiss, unmoving until she said—

You need to go back. 

Yeah, I did — with her! Why was she suddenly acting like that possibility was impossible? “Did Archangel do something to you?” I asked when she released me. She said this wasn’t how it was supposed to go — did she cut some deal with Archangel? “Mom it’s — we can get away, Dad should be coming soon and Dr. Sims was with him—“ 

Mom took a step back. And another. Her hand came out to stop me in place when I tried following her. 

You can’t stay here. This isn’t where you’re supposed to be. Not yet.

There was a sudden burst of light, and Mom flitted back, forming from the neon as quickly as she disappeared in it. That aura of neon stayed around, played stronger on her skin, more snakes of ribboned pink crawling down from her shoulders to dance around her arms. “Mom, I don’t — what’s going on?” 

Not if I have anything to say about it. 

The ribbons around her arms began to spin until I couldn’t even differentiate them from each other — she was just alight at the arms. The dance of the color lit up the pit until it was hard to keep my eyes open, surrounded by rainbows of blue and pink. 

Mom lifted a hand, the same one I was holding moments ago, the fingers I could barely see in the glow giving away to that same glow as it charged. What was she doing? 

Her hand pointed off to the side, to the face of the retention pond, and shot a beam so powerful the trill of its ability made my eardrums throb. It hit a rather large crystal protrusion, its blue turning purple, and refracted off of its surface, shooting for me. 

The beam slammed into where that stitch in my side laid, burning into me and making me cry out in pain. My mom was attacking me! Why was she attacking me? The beam stopped, zapping away without the fanfare of electricity, and I stumbled back in its hit, casting a hand over the wound. “Mom—“ I cut off when skin touched the rawness, hissing instead. 

You have more you need to do. 

The other hand lifted and shot a beam at a crystal on the right, bounding off of it and practically punching me in the chest. I doubled over, tears coming to my eyes both because of the pain and because I didn’t understand what I did for her to do this! It felt like more than being set of fire — I felt like I was being incinerated. The beam dissipated, and I barely straightened in time to see her lift both arms, a mournful smile on her face complimenting the tears streaming down her cheeks.

I love you, so much. But I can’t keep you. 

More neon slipped down from her spine, pushing into her hands until they practically glowed like little suns, and she released, the beams crisscrossing a thousand times in the drained retention pond before colliding with my back. 

I tried to bring up some water to stop it, but there was no point — something that powerful couldn’t be stopped by liquid. It cut through my water and lit up my entire body until it felt like it was aflame, leaving me to scream in place as I tried to repel it somehow. The neon danced in my water, combined with my water until the entirety of what encapsulated me grew to glow like a supernova, and my vision began to white with it, losing Mom in the haze. 

Over my screams and the pain and the ringing in my ears, I heard her one last time. 

Our boys need you. 

The white overtook my vision, and I slipped away into this in between; pain was still there, in my side and chest and back. I felt like I was traversing through jello, trapped to experience every atom of anguish individually. The hiss of the neon even seemed to slow, like I was beyond sound itself; it just became a ring of tinnitus, barely anything at all until something else began to happen. 

Beeping. There was beeping, and a gross sort of sterile smell, like bleach. Is that what a body smells like when you zap it? “Defrosted plus six minutes, doctor.” 

“Good. Vitals?”

“Pulse is forty-five, respiratory ten.” 

I love you. Mom’s voice called from the back of my mind, distant. Like she was already worlds away from me. 

The hum of neon disappeared, and the dilation of my experience began to crunch, the pain growing and becoming compounded into itself as the voices grew clearer. The white light disappeared from my eyes and I gasped out as the world, its agony and soreness and confusion crashed into me, and my eyes shot open. 

#infamous erosion #infamous second son #delsin rowe #Fetch Walker #Sucker Punch Productions #fanfic #fanfiction #IM BACK BABEY #LET'S GOOOOOO

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

"Turn on the heat." // "Oh, I will." // "No, I literally mean the heat! It's like ten degrees in here!" With our au?

yes kee our precious au 🥹

|| prompt list ||

prompt: "Turn on the heat." // "Oh, I will." // "No, I literally mean the heat! It's like ten degrees in here!"

au: farmhouse

word count: 920

warnings: fluff to the max, a secret other au

“It looks beautiful, Jay,” Ronnie said on a sigh as they stood in front of the farmhouse, frozen ground crunching beneath their feet. 

On the outside, it looked complete. White siding with a wrap around porch and green shudders. But Ronnie knew that the inside still needed some work. The plumbing finished and floors installed. That didn’t matter though. Jake had worked so hard for the past year to build her her dream house, putting in every last detail she wanted no matter how small, and it was nearly finished. Just a few more weeks. And it really did look beautiful. 

“Wanna go inside?” Jake suggested, “I mean, we drove all the way out here.” 

“Sure,” she shrugged with a laugh. 

Then he bent to pick her up, bridal style. Ronnie could do nothing but stare at him, wide-eyed, as he swept her off her feet with a knowing grin. Jake made a promise, when they started making up the plans for the farmhouse, that when it was done he would carry her over the threshold. An arguably outdated and traditional thing, but it felt right. As they sat and looked at blueprints all those nights ago.

But now he was carrying her up the porch steps and through the front door. A reality. A complete surprise as he carried her past the threshold into a completely finished, furnished, and decorated farmhouse. It was as beautiful and as complete as the outside. Everything exactly as Ronnie said she wanted it. 

“Jake…” she whispered breathlessly as she stared around at everything. 

“Had the boys come help me move everything while you were at work. Wanted it to be a surprise.” He set her back gently on her feet. “You like it?”

“God, baby, I…I love it,” she breathed, happy tears brimming her brown eyes as she turned to face him. “I love you. So much. Thank you.”

Ronnie lept into his arms and he caught her easily with a laugh, arms curling around her waist and holding her to him tight. They were going to build their lives in this house. Their future was here. When spring came she would start a garden out back while he worked on the landscaping. His nieces and nephews could come over and have plenty of room to run around. They would grow old sitting on that porch and watching the sunrises. It was perfect and it was all their’s.

“Welcome home, baby girl,” Jake whispered.

When she pulled away from him, she took him by the hand with a grin and walked him around the entire house. They both knew it like the backs of their hands after pouring over the details for months. But still, it was comforting to familiarize with the actual, physical space instead of just crude drawings on graph paper. Ronnie inspected every room, wide smile never leaving her face. And Jake watched her the entire time. 

They eventually made their way back to the living room. Ronnie dropped down onto the couch with a sigh, pulling the fuzzy blanket that was once in their apartment around her shoulders. Jake flopped down next to her in his usual way, legs spread and one arm draped across her shoulders, pulling her into his side instantly. She shuddered despite the blanket and Jake’s usual warmth. 

“Can you turn on the heat?” she asked. 

Jake looked down at her, wiggling his brows as he leaned in. “Oh, I will.” 

“No!” she laughed, nudging him with her shoulder. “I literally mean the heat! It’s like ten degrees in here.” 

“Oh.” He looked slightly disappointed before he got up to check the thermostat, then he cursed with his hands on his hips. “Well, it’s not ten degrees but it’s pretty damn close. Says the heat’s on…I don’t know what the problem is.” 

“Think you can fix it?” 

“Not before dark.” Jake sighed as he turned back to face her. “M’sorry babe, I thought everything was ready…”

“S’okay!” she insisted as she pulled the blanket tighter, then her eyes caught on the fireplace right across from the couch. “Is the fireplace good to go?”

“Great idea, baby girl! Lemme go chop some wood.”

While he went outside, Ronnie continued to take in their new home. Built with Jake’s own two hands. She could picture it perfectly. The meals she would cook in the kitchen, with Jake coming home from a day at work to wrap his arms around her waist. The parties they would host with all their friends, with no special occasion in mind, just because they could. The laughter and joy and love that would permeate the walls and make the house into a home. She was ready for that. God, she was so ready. 

The front door opened on it’s own, and Ronnie watched with a smile as the chopped logs floated into the house first. Jake followed soon after, a light sweat broken out across his brow. Closing the door, he set the logs down neatly into the holder by the fireplace — while directing a few to go into the fireplace itself, all without lifting a finger.

With the fire crackling, Jake sat back on the couch with his bride. Perfectly content. With his arm around her shoulders and her head against his chest. This was how it was always meant to be. And how it would be for the rest of the time they had left on this earth. Snuggled up by this warm fire, with a love so strong.

#kee my love #oc: ronnie bradshaw #farmhouse au #fd: top gun #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #hangman #jake hangman seresin x oc #jake seresin x oc #hangman x oc #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #jake seresin x ronnie bradshaw

[justasparkwritings]

Merry & Bright: XI. Christmas for You & Me

Previous: X. Christmas for You & Me

Pairings: Min Yoongi x Park Jimin; Jung Hoseok x Kim Taehyung

Genre: Fluff, Non-Idol AU, SLOW BURN

Rating: PG13

Warnings: Swearing!

Word Count: 750

Summary: Seokjin begins to spiral. 

Notes: Merry & Bright this year is taking the form of one cohesive story involving all of Bangtan! Hope you enjoy this change!

           Seokjin stood frozen, having just worked up the courage to go through with this inane tradition, he opened his eyes and stared at Namjoon. Namjoon was looking past him, and as Seokjin craned his neck to see who or what he was staring at, his eyes widened at the impossibly handsome man who had just answered.

           “Oh shit,” Seokjin muttered, taking in the shaggy black hair expertly slicked back, the multiple earrings and the striking lip ring. He stared at the all black attire including black leather pants and the bike helmet under his right arm. Jin took note of the tattoos decorating the hand and wondered, based on Namjoon’s reaction, if this man, who was arguably hotter than Jin but not more beautiful, was his ex.

           “Jungkook,” Namjoon muttered and for once he glanced at Jin, first his lips, then his eyes. “That’s my ex. I don’t know why he’s here or how he knew I’d be or what the fuck is going on.”

           In some part of his mind, he wondered if it wasn’t a coincidence, and Jimin had invited him to foil Yoongi and his plan… but Jimin was no where to be seen, neither was Yoongi. Hoseok was throwing his arms around Jungkook like they were old friends, and Taehyung was shaking his hand in greeting.        

           “I should –

           Namjoon began, and Seokjin nodded. “Yeah, go.”

           Namjoon moved slowly through the crowd to get to Jungkook, who, for what it was worth, looked up at him with wide eyes. Eyes that Namjoon had once loved to stare into. Eyes that carried weight and love and hope. Eyes that had stared into his and broke his heart.

           “Jungkook,” Namjoon said for the second time.

           “Namjoon – what are you doing here?” Jungkook asked, his smile wide and beaming.

           “You know each other?” Hoseok asked, looking at both of them.

           “We used to date,” Namjoon said.

           “I’d say we were more serious than that,” Jungkook said with a flash of hurt in his irises.

           “Yeah, that’d be fair.”

           “Oh, I didn’t know you knew each other. Jungkook’s an old family friend. He just got to town for a –

           “Guest lecture series. I have one Tuesday and a second Thursday before I go back to New York,” Jungkook interrupted.

           “Oh,” Namjoon said. “That’s great, you’ve always wanted to tour and give lectures.”

          “Yeah, sorry did I pull you away from someone?” Jungkook asked because he had, in fact, noticed Namjoon in an intimate stance with someone else.

          Namjoon realized too, painfully, that he had left Seokjin confused and alone underneath the mistletoe. He glanced behind him to see if Jin still stood there, only to find that he was gone.

          “It’s fine,” Taehyung said, reminding Namjoon that he was still there. “I’ll find him.”

          Taehyung disappeared through the people, past the food and into the kitchen where in fact, Jin was downing a glass of champagne and nibbling on a cookie. Jimin and Yoongi stood around him, staring at his manic expression with concern.

          “What’s wrong?” Taehyung asked.

          “He almost kissed me, and then his ex showed up,” Seokjin said. “He almost kissed me. In person. He almost kissed me. He’s never kissed me – he wanted to kiss me?”

           “He wanted to kiss you.” Taehyung said definitively.

          Taehyung wasn’t stupid, he knew that the reason Kim & Kim had broken up was due to some sexual tension and unrequited love between Namjoon and Seokjin. He had seen the sparks, watched the kindling catch fire and waited patiently while they fell madly in love… but he’d also seen the sorrow and heartache, and had been dumped viciously by them when they broke up the band. Viciously might be an understatement, or an overstatement…. Does getting a text saying they’d be breaking up and paying his part of the contract count as vicisous? He thought so. But like he always said, he got Hoseok so it worked in his favor after all. The point is, he knew how monumental the almost kiss was.

          “Did you want to kiss him back?” Jimin asked.

           “I –

           “don’t lie,”

           “I’ve never told a lie,” Seokjin said. “And that makes me a total liar.”

           “Wow, haven’t heard anyone quote All Time Low in maybe 15 years.” Yoongi teased.

           “I would’ve – I think I would’ve kissed him back.”

           “You know you would’ve,” Taehyung said.

           “He’s giving me mixed signals and I don’t know what to do. Now his ex is here?”

           “What does your heart say?” Yoongi asked.

           “Run.”

Next: XII. Christmas for You & Me

#justasparkwritings #merry & bright #merry and bright #clubzerooclock #bangtanarmynet #networkbangtan #houseofddaeng #purplearmynet #kpopccc #clubjimin #ot7 fic #mxm #min yoongi x park jimin #Kim seokjin x Kim namjoon #jung hoseok x kim taehyung #jungkook x reader