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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 5 months

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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

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dollfacefantasy · 7 months

Text

Let Them See

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon teases you while you're at the bookstore. on the way home, he has to pull over to deal with it.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, praise/degradation, dubcon elements (reader is scared of being caught), thigh fucking, he cums inside, car sex, road head, teasing in public, crying, sub space (forgive me if i'm using that incorrectly)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: i feel absolutely depraved. thank you to @sleepyluxe for the idea. this does reference my other fic, but it's not important to the plot. just if you read that one, this is like a little sequel! if you sent me a request, i am working on it, please be patient with me. i hope everyone enjoys. special smooches to everyone who reblogs and comments and sends me asks :) you don't know how much it means to me <3

tags: @dwkfan @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @sleepyluxe @petitecolibri @death-paint @luniaxi @bizzarethirst lmk if you would like to be added to the list!

You gaze out the window of the car, looking around at the beautiful day outside the glass. You softly hum along to the song playing on the radio as Leon’s fingers rub tiny circles on your inner thigh. You occasionally look over at him to watch him drive, your eyes full of all the love in the world. Your boyfriend finally had some time off, and he was spending it with you.

The entire day so far consisted of the two of you going around and just doing whatever you wanted. Just having fun together. Now, you were on the way to the bookstore. You had no shopping agenda, it was just another stop on your series of activities.

He pulls the car into a parking space near the shop and shuts it off. He squeezes your thigh once more before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks while stroking your face softly.

You nod and lean in for one more sweet kiss.

The two of you exit the car and head towards the store. Your hand finds his immediately, interlacing your fingers together. You lean your head against his shoulder as the automatic doors glide apart to let you in. His expression softens when you display your need to be close, and he kisses the crown of your head.

You wander the aisles together, looking through different sections and pointing out different things you’d read or wanted to read. Eventually, you end up in the romance section. Leon shifts his position to stand behind you and watch from over your shoulder. His arms circle your form, encasing you against his chest while he nuzzles the side of your head and kisses your cheek a few times.

You smile and turn your head slightly to give him a small kiss as you read the synopsis of the book in your hand. You guessed he had missed you lately since he’d been working so much. He was usually pretty attached to you right after coming home, and you never minded because why would you? If he needed extra affection, you would never deny him that.

Your intuition was half-correct because your boyfriend had missed you and did want to be in physical contact with you constantly right now, but the reason behind his current touchiness was a different type of longing.

He was so pent up from being away from you. A couple of days before he left for his last mission you had let it slip that you wanted to call him Daddy, and he had been feeling wild ever since. Sure, he’d fucked you until you couldn’t walk prior to him leaving and spent nearly all of last night inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. He craved you so deeply. He could feel every cell in his body yearning for you.

In his time away, it felt as if images of you clouded his mind in every waking moment. If he wasn’t actively fighting for his life, but even in those moments too sometimes, he was thinking of you. Your blissed out, flushed face, and your soft parted lips spilling entrancing sounds of pleasure. The way he could nearly see a physical change once you heard him praise you or remind you to be good for Daddy haunted him each minute he was across the globe from you.

It was like a new part of you had been unlocked to him. A side of you that looked at him with such reverence that he almost couldn’t stand it. He loved every facet of your personality, but this piece of you that wanted nothing more than to love him and be taken care of drove him up the wall.

He takes a deep breath while peppering the side of your neck with gentle kisses, inhaling your scent. He lets out a hum next to your ear, quiet enough so only you can hear, but in a tone to let you know what he desires.

Despite his hinting, you just smile again and give him another chaste kiss. You were still too focused on that book for his liking. He watches you flip through the pages and scan different passages. He is disinterested for the most part until a certain section of words catches his eye.

“His manhood glides into her sopping heat,” he reads with a low chuckle. He gives you another peck on your temple. “This what you read when I’m gone, honey? So dirty, but I guess I should’ve known.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You gently jab your elbow back into his abdomen.

That makes him smile and hold you even tighter against his broad front. His hands slowly rub either side of your body while his warm breath is blowing over your neck.

“No, it’s ok, baby. I know you’re insatiable. You gotta take care of yourself somehow when I’m not there,” he says quietly against your skin.

“Leon,” you say in a warning tone. It wasn’t so much what he was saying that was starting to get you hot. It was the low rumble of his voice, his lips brushing your throat, and his thick biceps locked around you like boa constrictors.

“I can just see it. You in bed, book in one hand, the other down your shorts, those fingers playing with your pretty, aching pussy. Hips bucking while you bite your lip,” he breathes, “But it’s probably not enough, is it? No, I’ve got you trained so well, baby girl. I know you can’t cum without Daddy’s help. I bet you call out for me when I’m not there, wishing it was me buried between those cute legs instead of your hand.”

“Leon,” you say, trying to speak in a warning tone, but it comes out as a soft whine. Your cheeks felt hot and your head a little dizzy.

“Leon?” he mocks, “That’s not who you were crying for last night, sweetheart.”

“Daddy,” you correct yourself quietly, turning your head to look into his eyes. His lips curl further into a predatory grin.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he coos and kisses your nose, “Daddy’s girl is so smart, remembering things like that. Good to know you keep some of that mind after I fuck it dumb all night.”

The way he taunts you makes it feel like your knees are going to buckle. You try to plead with him through your eyes. The aisle you were in was empty and towards the back of the store, but your mind was running rampant with thoughts of someone else catching the words that left his mouth.

“What’s that look for, princess?” he laughs in a hushed tone, “I thought you loved when I talked like that.”

“What if someone hears?” you ask softly.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, “Are you afraid of someone seeing how pathetic you are for Daddy?”

Heat bunches in your lower abdomen making you shift a little. You nod.

“Scared of someone seeing how you rub those gorgeous thighs together? How you can’t meet anyone’s eyes? How you have to hold Daddy’s hand to feel ok?” he whispers before nipping at your earlobe, “And all just from a few words.”

Your breath hitches and you fight to keep the whimper blossoming in your throat inside. “We’ll get in trouble,” you say, your voice shaking.

“Aw, my sweet girl doesn’t want to get in trouble?” he teases, “Baby, we’re just talking. If you can just keep yourself under control, we’ll be fine. I know it’s hard for you though. You hear Daddy, and you become such a needy little slut.”

Your head hangs forward a bit. You stare at the ground trying not to let yourself lose it in public. You were slipping into that state of mind where all you wanted was to be good for him. You wanted to just drop to your knees and have him pet your head while you sucked him off.

He knows what’s going through your mind. He can read you like no other. One of his hands slides down to your stomach to gently caress you there. The book you were holding was long forgotten, and Leon smiles wide as you push it back onto the shelf.

“I mean, even if someone did hear me, it wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It’s not like they’re seeing you when we’re alone. When you’re whining and crying for my cock like a bitch in heat,” he rasps.

“Daddy, stop,” you whimper. You felt hot and achy with need. You just wanted him to hold you and fuck you until you couldn’t think, but you were stuck in the middle of this store with bright lights and people walking around and nowhere to be alone.

“Do you really want me to stop, angel?” he asks, “I know you love this. I know you love feeling all shy and needing me to make it better. I think deep down you want everyone to know what a whore you are for me. You want ‘em to know how I own you.”

You bite your lip. You were getting so turned on, you felt like you could cry. The mix of shame and arousal swirls inside your head and pushes all other thoughts out. It was just you and Leon right now, no one else mattered. Being seen like this was becoming less of a worry to you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, “I know you love it. I bet you if I put my hand down your pants right now, you’d soak my fingers. I just know you’re dripping from being reminded how pathetic you are for me.”

You turn around in his hold to hide your face against his chest. Your arms wrap around his body so that you’re as close as possible. If someone else saw you now, they might just think you were having a bad day and Leon was comforting you in earnest.

Your display of submission amuses him. His face is smug. He rubs your back and cradles your head.

“Aw, baby, are you gonna cry? Is this too much for you, sweetheart? Are you embarrassed I can get you this desperate from my voice alone?” he croons.

“Yes,” you say. Your tone is desperate, both for him and to leave the store.

“But why are you embarrassed, honey? You like being claimed, don’t you?” he coos and tilts your head up by your chin, taking in your flustered expression, “Yeah, you like when people see us, and they know that you’re mine just from one look. So what is there to be embarrassed about, babydoll?”

“I like it… but… I just… because-” you struggle to articulate yourself as you gaze into his piercing eyes and he begins rubbing his knuckles along your jawline.

“Because you don’t want anyone else knowing? No one else can see how much you like being controlled because it’s shameful, isn’t it? It’s humiliating to admit that you like me controlling everything, from the number of times you cum at night down to the clothes you wear when you wake up in the morning. No one else should know the infinite amount of vile, disgusting things you would do if I just asked you to,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.

He swipes his thumb across your lips slowly as he talks. When he’s done, he sticks the digit between your lips. You gently suck on it, maintaining eye contact with him all the while.

His eyebrows raise, indicating how pleased he is with you. “I really do have you perfectly trained. You don’t even think about it anymore. You feel any part of me in your mouth and you know to start sucking like a good little slut.” He pulls his thumb back out and smears your saliva over your lips.

“Can we just leave?” you ask softly, your eyes casting down again, “Please.”

“What? You don’t want to buy anything? You know I’ll pay,” he teases, knowing that shopping couldn’t be further from your mind right now.

“Please Daddy,” you whisper and look at him desperately. You were so soaked it would be uncomfortable if you stood there for any longer.

He presses a tender kiss to your lips, deciding to give you a break. “Yeah, beautiful. We can leave. I don’t think you could focus enough to read anything right now even if you wanted to.”

He takes you under his arm and starts to guide you out of the store. You keep your arms around him as you lean into his side.

“That’s my girl. My good girl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head while the two of you walk through the exit, “You just need Daddy right now, don’t you baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum quietly as you make your way through the parking lot.

When you reach the car, Leon opens the door for you and helps you inside. He then quickly goes around to the other side of the car and gets in the driver's seat. He wastes no time turning it on and getting it into gear. The car whips out of the parking space and out to the road.

Your eyes continuously dart over to him. The urge to hop over the center console and into his lap was all-consuming. He briefly glances at you with a knowing look.

You take that as a signal and slowly reach across the car. Your hand lands at the top of his thigh and slides over his lap to palm him through his jeans. He was already half-hard from tormenting you in the store.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks teasingly.

You tentatively pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. Your eyes are silently begging while your fingers begin massaging the outline of his length over his boxers.

“Just need to feel it. Please,” you say as your fingertips continue their miniscule movements.

He shakes his head and lets out a laugh while adjusting in his seat to give you better access. “You need it, do you?”

You nod and maneuver your hand into his underwear for direct contact. Your fingers wrap around him, feeling the heat of it pulsing in your grasp. Your content with that for a while, but soon you want more.

“Daddy, can I please suck your cock?” you ask.

Hearing your soft and sweet voice ask for something so vulgar made his dick twitch with need for you, but he tried to keep his reaction casual.

“Look at you, asking like a good girl,” he teases, “Can’t wait until we get home? Did Daddy get you too worked up?”

“Yes,” you say timidly, “I just… I need it.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain,” he says, “You can suck me off, my love. Just be good, so we don’t crash.”

You nod quickly, happy he wasn’t going to torment you on the way home too. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you shift and lean over to his seat to put your head in his lap. He splays a protective hand across your back as you get in position. Without hesitation, you get to task and pull him out of his boxers.

You lick the bulging head a few times, but then wrap your lips around it and sink down. You flatten your tongue against the shaft, feeling the veins as you lower your head. He groans and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. His other hand rubs your back in small strokes.

“There you go, angel,” he says, “Fuck, I could never say no to your mouth.”

You suck gently before bobbing your head slowly up and down. One of your hands cups his balls and kneads them carefully. The noises of the blowjob sound through the car’s enclosed space. Leon fights the instinct to buck into your throat. Your mouth was just so warm and wet and soft. Absolute heaven. It was hard for him to focus on the road in this condition.

It was easy for you to focus on giving him head though. You work your mouth over him, paying attention to all his favorite spots and taking him as deep as you can. You rest your nose against his pelvis as you hold him in your throat. His thighs tense and the car jerks a little when he accidentally pushes on the brakes too hard.

“Jesus fuck, baby. Ease up a little,” he grunts. His hand on your back coasts up to your neck and caresses the base of your skull.

Not long after he says this, you pull off to catch your breath. While you take your break, you purse your lips and spit a fat glob of saliva onto his cock. It drips onto the head and then slides the rest of the way down to where your fist is now gripping him. You start jerking him and spreading your drool around his shaft.

You press sloppy, wet kisses to his tip. Some of his precum coats your lips before you open your mouth and bring him inside again. You make muted gagging noises while you try to get him deep again.

He wants so badly to watch you, to see that adorable dedicated look on your face and your eyes tearing up as you choke yourself. It’s driving him crazy having to watch the street ahead of him. He can also feel the simmering build up of release which he doesn’t want to do so soon or while he’s driving. His hips twitch more while he white-knuckles the wheel.

“Babe, calm down,” he hisses pointlessly. You’re wrapped up in your own little world right now, “If you don’t quit it, I’m gonna cum and then you’re not gonna get to have any fun when we get home.”

You sort of register that comment, but you were absolutely fixated on getting him to blow his load down your throat so you don’t stop.

He realizes instantly that you’re not going to let up. He makes a split second decision to pull a sharp turn onto a less busy road. He steers the car off of the asphalt and off road a little bit. Once there’s substantial distance between your vehicle and the road, he throws it in park and yanks you up by your hair.

“When I tell you to do something, it’s not a request,” he states simply.

It takes a lot in him to keep up the serious persona and not smile at your face right now. You looked fucked out even though you hadn’t even come close to the main event yet. Saliva covers your lips and chin while your eyes project a dazed mix of arousal and guilt.

“But Daddy, I just wanted to make you feel good,” you say.

“Liar. I know you just wanted some cum down your throat cause you’re a greedy little slut, baby,” he chides, “Also, is it your job to ‘try’ whatever you want?”

You shake your head and look down like a puppy who’s been caught being bad. “I’m sorry Daddy,” you say softly.

“What is your job?” he asks, ignoring your apology.

“To be a good girl and listen to Daddy.”

“Hm, so you do remember. You’re not stupid then, just deliberately disobedient,” he says.

You open your mouth to dispute that but decide against arguing and shut it again. The way you were shrinking in on yourself made him want to ruin you even more.

“Good, at least it looks like you’re learning. I’ll have to remind you of the rest though,” he says and finally lets go of your hair, “Get your ass in the backseat.”

“But Daddy-” you start, about to repeat your fears from earlier about being seen.

“Enough with this ‘but Daddy’ shit. You wanna act like a whore, that’s how I’ll treat you,” he says, “Be grateful for the privacy you get. You’re lucky I didn’t just stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street.”

Your inner thighs were slick with your arousal by this point. You could feel it when you began crawling past your seat to the back of the car. Leon slaps your ass as you make your way there, causing you to yelp.

He simply gets out of the car and enters the backseat through the door. He sits next to you and looks at you expectantly.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks, “Do you really need me to guide your every move? I know that’s not true because you just showed me it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” you say again as you begin removing your clothes. You peel your top off and shimmy out of your pants.

“I know you are, baby. But I still have to teach you your lesson. You have to learn that Daddy knows best,” he says while taking off his own clothing.

You scoot closer to try and assist him, but he manages on his own and flips you over, pinning you to the seats. One hand is locked on the flesh of your hip while the other holds your head down against the leather. He’s kneeling behind you, hunched over due to his stature in the limited space.

He teases up and down your folds with the angry red tip of his cock, still leaking precum from the close call a few minutes ago. Your body yearns to be filled, but you keep quiet and try to appear patient.

“Do you even deserve my cock?” he asks as he bumps your clit. You would nod, but his hold on your head is strong. “I mean really, maybe I should be focused on training some patience into you. Teach you take what I give you and not vie for more.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“I know, babydoll, that’s only the tenth time you’ve said that,” he mocks as he slides up and down through your slick, “But I can really show you what sorry is. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you. What if, right now, I fuck your thighs? You keep those pretty legs together, nice and tight for me to use like a fleshlight.”

He pushes your thighs together like he described and begins slowly thrusting himself between them. He quietly grunts and kneads your ass.

“Please Daddy, no, I’m so-”

“Ah ah, don’t interrupt,” he tuts, not stopping his hips, “You’d probably still get off on it. You’re so whipped for me you’d probably cum if I smiled at you right.”

You stay silent. You knew he was teasing, but it might have been true. He knew all your buttons and just how to push them.

“Yeah, you know I’m right. My poor baby. You can’t help it. You don’t know any better, do you?”

“No…” you say quietly before your bottom lip juts out into a pout. The idea of him not fucking you properly while you were possibly the most horny you’d been in your life was deeply upsetting.

“No, you don’t,” he agrees in a condescending tone, “You just love Daddy so much. It’s not your fault your body is addicted to me. You don’t choose for your cunt to soak through your panties just from hearing my voice, do you? It just happens. Your heart knows it belongs to me.”

He speaks as if he’s comforting you which makes it feel so much worse and so much better at the same time. Your eyes water, the mix of emotion being a lot for you to handle in this state.

“It doesn’t care how pathetic you act because of it. All it knows is that you need your Daddy,” he says, his voice husky. He pulls away from the junction of your thighs and nudges your legs apart with his knees. He positions his cock at your entrance. “That’s why I’ll give you a pass, baby. You’re not a bad girl. You just need me to keep you in line sometimes.”

His grip has weakened enough that you’re able to nod. “Thank you Daddy,” you choke out as he pushes all the way inside in one go. You were so wet that he had no problem bottoming out immediately.

“Good girl,” he praises through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, “So fucking wet, Christ.”

Everything felt right now that he was inside of you. The relief crashed on you like a wave. A couple tears leak from your eyes and your body shudders.

He starts pushing himself in and out, his head tilts back as he does. You clutch the edge of the bench while your eyes flutter. You felt like you were up in the clouds. The feeling of him twitching against your walls as he slid in and out was total euphoria. It was a little much to feel this way from a few strokes, but like he said, you couldn’t control it.

You bounce your hips back against his and he smacks it. You can tell from the sting that there will probably be a handprint on the skin. He lets you fuck yourself on it for a little while before he takes over again. He stares down to where the two of you connect, unable to tear his eyes from how your cunt sucks in his cock, your wetness gathering around the spot where your bodies link.

You whimper and cry as he picks up speed, pistoning into you. Your cheek feels numb from being squished on the cushion. Leon notices and leans down closer to you. It wasn’t unusual for you to get emotional during sex but seeing it always made his protective urges flare up. He wraps his thick arm around your neck from behind, putting you into a loving headlock. He lays some messy kisses on the side of your temple.

“I love my needy girl so much. You know that right?” he whispers while sensually rolling his hips against your ass, “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. My sweet girl, so sensitive. I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you cry. You lean into his kisses and lift one of your hands to rest it on his forearm.

Knowing you’re ok, he resumes his harsher thrusts, pulling you by your neck closer to him. He growls into your ear and nuzzles the side of your head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, babe. Can’t last in this tight pussy, squeezing me like a fucking anaconda,” he moans.

You bite your lip and grip his arm tighter as you feel your own peak rising within.

“Where do you want it, baby girl?” he grunts in your ear.

“Inside, Daddy. Please,” you whine.

He chuckles and gives you one more kiss on the head for saying please.

“I don’t even know why I ask anymore. Course you want it in your pussy. Even though you look so cute with Daddy’s cum all over your face, no thoughts in that pretty little head. Just happy you got some attention.”

“I like it inside,” you defend before gasping.

“I know you do, angel,” he says, his voice strained as the ecstasy begins to bubble over, “I like it too. Stuffing you full of me. A little reminder of who owns you once we’re finished.”

You nod as best you can in the headlock before your body seizes and jerks. Your orgasm rips through you, making you shake and moan through tears. You claw at his arm with both hands now, brokenly whimpering for Daddy over and over.

He can’t take it anymore. The sight beneath him mixed with the bliss of your cunt fluttering around him, it breaks the resolve inside him. He snaps his hips against you roughly and tightens his arm around you. He growls and grabs the leather seats so hard you think he might rip a chunk out.

He pumps into you repeatedly, draining himself in the warm embrace of your velvety walls. You can feel the thick white ropes filling you up as the sweaty skin of his abdomen rubs against your back.

His hips spasm as he finishes. He rests on top of you for a moment afterwards, panting to catch his breath. He kisses your neck gently and then moves to your ear.

“My beautiful, perfect girl,” he whispers, “So good for me, baby, like always.”

He gets off of you so you can sit up. Once you do, he gently holds your jaw and wipes away any leftover tears and saliva on your face. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your lips.

The two of you dress in the backseat, pulling your clothes on haphazardly so you can actually go home. This time you get out of the backseat through the door and hop back in the passenger seat. You laugh when you see Leon stretching outside of the driver's door.

“You ok there, buddy?” you tease when he gets back in.

He smiles, raises his eyebrows, and starts the car up.

“I’m buddy now? Are you over Daddy?” he says, “This is the thanks I get for working hard to please you.”

“Thank you Daddy,” you say overly-sweet, leaning over to kiss his cheek as he pulls back onto the road.

“You wanna play around, but I’m not the one who was crying that ten minutes ago when she thought she wouldn’t get any dick,” he laughs.

“Oh, shut up, Leon!” you say and roll your eyes.

“It’s Leon right now, but I bet you when we’re home in five minutes, I’ll have you begging for Daddy again,” he says and smirks.

You smile and look away, knowing that he’s totally right.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

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cordeliawhohung · 2 months

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pornstar!gaz because my brain cannot control itself. unedited because i'm a whore

Whoever turned the AC up in your dressing room was going to get an earful of it when you were finished with your makeup, because you were certain you were going to freeze to death. Really, it made sense why they turned it up so high. Studio lights got very hot very quick while filming, and with all the... physical activities that would be shot, stars were known to pass out if it got to hot. But not even the warmth from the bright vanity lights could defrost the ice forming on your skin, and you tried to keep your hands from trembling as you applied your foundation.

Or, at least you tried to tell yourself you were only shivering. You were filming with Kyle Garrick that day, after all.

You'd seen his videos. You always made it a habit to sleuth through the history of anyone you were going to be on set with just to see what you were dealing with, so it wasn't like he was anything special. Except he was. He was the sweetheart most viewers fell in love with, and the darling of the film studio. Half of the income the studio made last year was from the videos he was, which meant the video you were about to shoot that day was certainly going to be viewed at least a few million times.

It was easy to see why. He was attractive enough to draw in a female audience, and even you had to admit he was rather pretty. Even if he wasn't, his voice was alluring enough he could still draw in an audience just by dirty talk alone. Men enjoyed his skills and how he could seem to draw orgasm after orgasm out of his co-stars. Theoretically, anyway. Female porn stars were the best actresses in the world.

As you dipped the tip of your finger in the basin of your highlighter, a soft knock rapped at the door. You threw a cautious glance at the door as you rubbed the highlighter on the tip of your nose. It was unusual for someone to bother you while you were getting ready. It wasn't like makeup was all that important when it would get smudged on every surface imaginable half an hour after application.

"Come in," you hummed.

It was difficult to act distracted when Kyle Garrick, the bastard himself, walked into your dressing room. He was even more beautiful in person. Cameras could never quite catch the warmth of his skin or just how easy and intoxicating his smile was. What made it worse was that he wasn't at all bashful. No, he was completely confident as he strolled into the room and shut the door tight behind him.

"What's up?" You tried to act nonchalant, but if anything you were a little weirded out. Never in all your time in the industry had you ever had your partner enter your dressing room like you were school girls gossiping in the bathroom during passing period. Still, he kept his distance, which eased your nerves a little, yet did nothing to quell your confusion.

"Just figured we could have a chat before the cameras start rolling," he answered simply.

"A chat? You make it sound like I'm in trouble," you teased.

He chuckled at your comment, and you swore you could feel the way the waves of it shook your chest. "Not at all. I just always feel more comfortable getting to know my partner's do's and don'ts."

Comfortable? Like some sort of debrief? You couldn't say you ever had someone come to you about boundary setting before a shoot (not when you filmed with men, anyway) but you had to admit, the idea was rather refreshing. Giving him your full attention, you placed your makeup back in your back before gesturing to the seat next to you.

He took the seat without hesitation, and you tried not to be jealous at how poised he was in doing so. He treated you as if you had known one another for years rather than seconds, and he slouched back in the chair like he was right at home. An odd lump formed in your throat when you noticed how wide he had spread his thighs, and though you were sure he was used to it, you tried your best not to stare.

"Alright then," you prompted. "Shoot."

A warm smile bloomed on his lips as he leaned his arm against the counter. If you hadn't known any better, it felt like the two of you were just hanging out rather than getting ready to fuck one another in front of the cameras and a half full studio.

"Tell me what you like," he said with a nod.

You shrugged. "The usual stuff. I'm pretty vanilla, honestly."

"That so? Or are you just not wanting to get so deep so quick?" Kyle teased with a boyish smirk.

"Deep? I'll probably have your cock in my mouth in the next half hour, I think we're a little past acting shy," you retorted playfully.

That got him to laugh. Not chuckle, not some deep hum in his throat, but truly laugh. So much so that he leaned forward and had to readjust his position.

"Right, well part of the job isn't it?" he said with a tilt of his head. "Well then, what about hard no's, then?"

You hummed as if you had to think about it, but in reality you were well aware of your boundaries. Having them usually meant very little in that line of work, but if your partner asked about it so casually, you might as well be honest.

"Degradation. Not a big fan of it. Or slapping," you admitted simply.

Kyle nodded in understanding. "Right, so praise then?" You nodded. "And no slapping. What about spanking?"

"That's fine. Just nothing hitting my face."

"Right. So, no pain play?" he asked.

"Well, I'm not a total normie," you joked.

"I'll keep that in mind."

A small stretch of silence settled between you filled with nothing but the dull hum of the AC unit, which suddenly felt like wasn't working as well. His eyes studied you carefully, remaining surprisingly intent on your face rather than anywhere else. There was a delicious richness to their color that made you feel like you would get lost in them, and maybe that was his intent. You quickly broke eye contact with him before that could happen.

"What about you? We've been focusing mostly on my desires," you said in an attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere.

"But that's what I like. Focusing on you," he admitted.

Kyle caught sight of the slight quirk of your brow at his comment, and quickly amended his statement.

"My partners, that is. Whoever I'm on set with. I like doing the work. As long as you're having a good time, so am I," he concluded.

He didn't have to tell you that much, you were able to gather that from the videos he filmed. His grunts while eating his co-stars out, the way a smile always seemed to tear across his face whenever they came, fake or not; he truly did seem to be a pleasure dom. You were excited to see if that theory was correct.

"Any hard no's then?" you asked.

"None that you'll be able to push," he replied.

Your brows raised incredulously at his comment. "Underestimating me?"

"Not at all. I just plan to have you so fucked out you won't be capable of much," he admitted.

Those sickly teasing words of his left your mind completely blank, and you weren't sure why. Was it the prospect of it? The tone of his voice? Whatever it was, it stole the words off of your tongue, and the only response you were capable of mustering was a slick grin.

"Well, I'll let you get back to it," Kyle said as he pushed himself up from the seat. "If you think of anything else between now and then, let me know."

"Will do," you said, chest quaking with breathlessness.

Just as he was about to leave, Kyle paused for a moment with his hand loosely on the doorknob. His body turned to you, just enough so that he could glance at you from over his shoulder. Except his glance wasn't something quick and innocent; no, it was the first time you caught him giving you a full once over as if he inspected his meal before eating it.

"Excited to work with you, doll," he said with a slight lick of his lips.

When the door shut behind him, you let out a breath like you finally got your lungs to behave properly again. You felt like you needed a cold shower after that conversation with him, and had you not just put on your makeup, you probably would have. A thick layer of sweat formed on the palm of your hands, and you cursed to yourself as you wiped the moisture off on your shirt.

"Jesus christ," you muttered to yourself.

Perhaps you shouldn't have complained so much about the AC after all.

#pornstar!gaz #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #f!reader

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klausysworld · 3 months

Note

Okay so I have this idea where reader has been taking care of hope for 7 years (Hayley is like dead Marcel killed her or smt) and like in the show Marcel has klaus locked away but when the family rescues him they all come to realise that y/n has built like a whole army of werewolves/vampires just to protect hope. Klaus see’s how much she loves hope and he has loved y/n for like 12 years and hope notices this and then hope tells him that y/n has cried herself to sleep ever night because of loosing him and then obviously the rest is up to you.

This idea has been in my head for a while so I do hope you write it and if not thank you for whatever you write next 🥰🥰🥰🥰

And also sorry my description was so bad but I forgot to say smut would be greatly appreciated ❤️❤️❤️❤️

Family

Y/n had grown up alongside Hayley in the foster care system. They were adopted together and thrown out together. They were loyal to one another no matter the consequences and would follow the other to the ends of the earth.

Y/n hadn't batted an eye at the idea of living with the most dangerous family in the world, if Hayley was going then so would she. She showed her devotion to the unborn Mikaelson and quickly gained the attention and respect of the originals.

Elijah appreciated her love and protective characteristics over her family, Hayley and the baby. Rebekah liked that it didn't matter who said what about her, whether they claimed she was a useless human or nothing more than something to eat, she wouldn't back down form a fight. Klaus had originally thought her to be a little foolish with her confidence and need to help but he found that she knew what she was doing, she was persuasive and intelligent.

When the witches first killed Hayley and took the new born baby, Y/n had pushed aside the grief and the pain from Hayleys death. Niklaus and Elijah could see the horror in her eyes but she told them to get up and find the baby, and they did. Thankfully Hayley returned, as a hybrid, and Hope survived.

Y/n was happy for them to compel her to believe Hope was dead but Klaus interjected and said that he didn't believe it to be necessary. That was when Elijah knew that his brother had placed his trust in Y/n.

The Mikaelson brothers watched as Y/n stayed beside Hayley no matter how much she yelled, screamed, cried, killed. Despite Hope not dying, Hayley still felt the pain of loss. It was easy for her to take it out on Y/n, to bring up her past family and to push at all her buttons but Y/n never gave in. She ignored it even when Klaus and Elijah would get involved, sometimes Hayley would have said something particularly hurtful and one of the brothers would intervene, yelling at Hayley to go calm down and offering some sort of comfort to Y/n but she wouldn't accept it.

There was one occasion when Hayley had bitten Y/n, her humanity was almost gone and she had attacked her bestest friend. Klaus had gone ballistic. Elijah had healed Y/n though she insisted it wasn't that bad while Klaus finally managed to scream some sense into Hayley.

Apologies were made and accepted before finally they were all able to go see Hope.

Y/n hadn't ever had a family, even when she was adopted with Hayley they only took Y/n because Hayley wouldn't go without her. So when Rebekah pulled the camera out for a family photo, Y/n made her way inside but Klaus had noticed and went to get her.

A gentle hand was placed on her shoulder to gain her attention as he guided her back to the others and promised her that she was their family now. Rebekah had been ecstatic and pulled Y/n to her side as Klaus held up the camera and they all smiled.

From then onwards Y/n would bond with Hope more and more. Hayley had sat with her and they had agreed that should anything ever happen to Hayley, that Y/n would never leave Hope alone. There was absolutely no convincing needed with this arrangement.

Over the next year witches, wolves and vampires came and went. Y/n stayed with the Mikaelsons and befriended the wolves, Jackson especially as he was to marry her adopted sister. She stood beside Klaus at the wedding, holding Hope and watching as the baby's eyes glowed gold in unison. Klaus was just looking at Y/n, listening as Hayley and Jackson recited their vows and imagined those words of love coming from his own lips.

After, Y/n went down to celebrate and Klaus managed to get a dance with her after Elijah finally pushed him to. Something about the other just felt right. It brought a warmth that only held safety and admiration. Like home.

Y/n began to see Klaus as home. When Hayley spent so many nights in the bayou, it was Klaus that she spent her time with and Klaus who always came to seek her out. Often he would use Hope as an excuse to be around her, Hope loved Y/n very much and was always eager to see her. Klaus was even more eager to take her.

But then Lucien arrived, along with Tristan and Aurora. They ruined everything.

Y/n became a vampire, Finn was killed once again and the Mikaleons were faced with peril.

Everything happened within the blink of an eye. Rebekah was hexed and the brothers bitten and Freya poisoned. Klaus was locked away for his violent acts and the others were linked to his life and hidden away in their coffins. And then Hayley, she had gone to Marcel angry and threatening and never returned.

That left Y/n with Hope and a truck full of almost-dead Mikaelsons. She was lost for the first year with Hope. She had lost everything. Everyone.

But when Hope would wrap her little arms around her and whimper for Y/n to not be sad, she knew that she needed to pull through.

It took a lot of effort. Y/n used Marcels tactics and started turning her own vampires, earning their trust and their devotion. She offered them a new life, she sold vampirism well and convinced dozens that this was the way for them. She began to train them, she began to trust them.

There was an inner circle that knew her well and were allowed to see Hope and go inside the house to protect her and the others had a fair amount of freedom however if they wanted daylight rings then they would have to help find the ingredients to heal the Mikaelsons.

It took far longer than she would have liked, 5 years but she did it. And one by one, Freya, Kol, Elijah and Rebekah were awake and healed. It didn't take long for them to come to understand the lengths to which Y/n had gone through.

They learnt of Hayleys death and they watched as vampires came to Y/n with updates on Klaus's position. A couple of her vampires had gone undercover into Marcels territory to get an idea of Klaus's situation. It was because of this that the other Mikaelsons were able to get in easier while Y/n went to her home to see Hope now that she was back form school.

Hope saw Y/n as her mother. Of course she knew everything about Hayley, Y/n old her countless stories and made sure that Hope knew that Hayley was her mother but Hope didn't truly remember Hayley the way Y/n had thought she would. To Hope, Y/n had always looked after her and loved her so often she would call Y/n her mommy or her ma without meaning to and Y/n could never respond, unsure as to whether she was doing something wrong by being Hopes mother. But she also couldn't deny Hope and so wouldn't upset her little girl by telling her that she wasn't allowed to call her that.

So she sat down with Hope when they were having their dinner and told her that their family was coming back in the early hours of the morning. Y/n had made sure to tell Hope stories of each of the Mikaelsons and showed various pictures, Klaus especially was mentioned. "That's your Dad remember?" Y/n would whisper when they snuggled up on Hopes bed and flicked through the photos.

Sometimes Y/n would sleep beside Hope or the other way around. Hope knew that Y/n didn't sleep much, she worried so much and became sad when Hope wasn't with her. Many times Hope had asked if Y/n loved her Dad and every time Y/n would nod "He means very much to me" she would tell her and Hope would smile and hold Y/n's hand.

"He'll come back soon Mommy, don't worry" she would whisper and Y/n would sniff and nod, pulled Hope close and closing her eyes.

When Hope was told that he father was finally coming home, she was excited for both herself and for Y/n. It took hours for her to get to sleep and Y/n had to take her back to bed nearly 10 times before she stayed in bed.

It was deep into the night when the door knocked, Y/n had fallen asleep against with her head against the kitchen table but thankfully had given Freya a key before they left for Klaus. They all made their way inside and softened at the sigh of Y/n passed out with her phone infront of her. Klaus was battered and weak but made his way over to her and knelt down to the floor so that he could pull her down to his embrace. She woke as she was taken from her seat and found herself in his hold. Tears streamed within seconds and she wrapped herself within him until little footsteps were heard and everyone's attention was on the doorway.

Y/n got up quickly, pulling away from Klaus who stared at the doorway with a level of fear. He didn't want his daughter to see him for the first time while he was dirty, bloody and broken.

"Mommy?" The sleepy voiced called, Hope had just come into sight while rubbing her eyes when Y/n quickly picked her up. They all listened as she gently hushed Hope and took her back to bed.

"What's wrong baby?" She asked softly, while tucking Hope into bed. She kissed her head and slipped Hope's wolf teddy under her arm.

"Are they here yet?" Hope whispered and Y/n hesitated. She knew Hope wouldn't sleep if she knew they were there and she knew that the Mikaelsons needed a moment to recover.

"Soon" She told Hope. "They'll be here when you wake in the morning I promise." She murmured and she stroked her face and Hope whispered goodnight.

Y/n came back down and spoke quietly.

"There's enough beds upstairs each of you, you might have to share a room for the night but it's better than a coffin. There's two showers, wait fifteen minutes so Hope goes to sleep before turning them on otherwise the noise will wake her up. We'll sort everything in the morning." She muttered, somehow a hardened exterior was around her now and they all picked up on it. She spoke to them now in an almost professional manner, like she didn't know them. As they all made their way up the stairs and watched as she checked on Hope, closed her door and made her way to her own room, they wondered how hard the past five years had been for her.

The next morning they woke to a stack of blood beside each of them bar Freya who had a cup of coffee waiting. They drank before getting dressed and heading downstairs.

Y/n and Hope were both already there, sprawled out on the sofas and eating from a bowl of berries while watching the TV. Kol was the first to clear his throat making Hope's head shoot up. Her confidence diminished quickly and she was hiding behind Y/n as she got up.

Y/n pointed to the fridge and cupboards, "If you're hungry you can find everything there, I've set up phones for you all so they're on the table. Theres a couple guys outside but they're just here to make sure nobody else is so you can check the garden if you need. Cars are coming in the afternoon to relocate now that you're awake and we have an interview with a school for Hope tomorrow morning so we need to get a full nights sleep and leave by 4pm latest this afternoon." She told them while lifting Hope from the sofa and placing her by the backdoor. "Paints are outside" she whispered to Hope who nodded and ran out to her art table in the garden.

The Mikaelsons each took their new phone and grabbed something to eat before sitting down while Klaus went to the window to watch his daughter from afar. Y/n went back to the kitchen and started washing plates when Elijah came beside her and placed a hand on her back.

"You know that you are our family Y/n" he whispered to her, concerned that she may think otherwise, "even with Hayley gone" he added faintly and she nodded. "I understand you've taken the role as Hopes mother-"

"I haven't. Hayley's her mom, Hope knows that she just slips up" She snapped back and Elijah frowned at the aggression.

"I didn't mean it as a negative thing." He replied softly, "Hayley would love that you are so close to Hope, she had told me all those years ago that you were as much Hopes mother as she was. You have always been her mother, none of us would take that from you."

Y/n sniffled at the thought of Hayley's permission almost and Elijah brought her into his embrace. He had been taking care of his family for centuries, he had the best understanding of what she was going through and he never wanted her to think that they would take Hope away from her just because Hayley was gone.

Meanwhile, Klaus had plucked the courage to go outside and sit with his daughter. He painted alongside her in a comfortable silence while nature danced around them until Y/n came outside and called for lunch. The scene made Klaus think of a movie or a sweet story and Hope smiled and jumped from her seat and tugged Klaus inside for food. He chuckled and followed, obediently sitting beside his little girl while Y/n went on the other side of her. Elijah and Y/n had prepared a simple but homey pasta dish to fill everyone before they needed to leave.

It was during lunch that Hope took notice of how her father glanced and gazed at her mother figure. Part of her was happy for them that they had found their way back and she could have that picture perfect family she had dreamed of for years but the other part of her pushed that idea away. She feared that perfect reality and quickly became upset with the thought of it all.

Y/n could see Hope stressing and took her outside to talk to her. Rebekah tried to comfort Klaus as he sat in a pained silence with the thought that his daughter didn't like him enough.

They didn't speak of it as they divided up into cars and drove to another state, to a suburban area where they had their own homes and new starts. Rebekah was excited, Freya was apprehensive, Kol decided to go his own way but to keep in touch, Elijah was willing to go wherever was seen as safest and Klaus would follow Hope and Y/n wherever they may go.

When Y/n handed him the keys to his own house he frowned, he didn't want to be by himself. He never had. Y/n had asked Hope if she would want to stay primarily at her dads but she wasn't so sure as she didn't really know him anymore.

The separate house arrangement lasted no longer than a week before Klaus was insisting they get a big house they could all stay in. Freya and Rebekah got a smaller house together, Elijah got himself an apartment close by but a little further out and Klaus moved in with Y/n and Hope after getting upset and Y/n understanding his needs.

He had his own room but he never wanted to be in it. He wanted to be in Y/n's, he wanted her and she wouldn't let him. Hope slowly got used to the idea but Y/n pulled away from it despite the ache in her heart that called for him.

Klaus soon believed that she truly didn't feel anything more than that friendship/family bond that she had with his siblings but Hope made sure he knew the truth one night when they were watching a movie and Y/n was out sorting out some vampires that apparently worked for her with both confused and impressed the Mikaelsons.

"I know you love my mom" She told him as they both kept their eyes on the TV, not daring to look at the other as this particular topic arose. Klaus cleared his throat and smacked his lips together but she didn't give him a chance to respond. "She told me she loves you too. Lots of times actually" she quipped and Klaus stared at the screen intensley. "But she won't tell you because she doesn't want to make it weird or make a mistake" she told him.

"She thinks it would be a mistake?" He asked, mentally cursing himself for the childish behaviour he was giving into.

"No...I don't know...She just loves you a lot and she'd be sad again if it didn’t work and I don’t want her to be sad again…” she trailed and Klaus glanced to her.

“Again?” He whispered, wondering if she had been with another man in the years they were apart and it hadn’t worked.

“She used to cry a lot” Hope mumbled, feeling guilty for telling Klaus about it. “Sometimes she would cry in her sleep too” she added and Klaus frowned, wrapping an arm around Hope and pulling her into a hug as she got upset. “She missed you” she whimpered and Klaus nodded, kissing Hopes head and wiping the tears from under her eyes. “She needs you” she told him on a small, strained voice.

Klaus rubbed her back and stroked her hair while Hope cried and let out all her worries for her mother and all the times she had seen her distraught. Klaus told her how he should have been there for them and promised that he would never leave them alone, never let them suffer again.

They ended the night on a lighter note, managed to pull a few laughs and smiled form each to her before Klaus tucked Hope into bed and found her wolf teddy for her. He then sat and told her of how one day she would get to be a wolf if she wanted and would be able to run freely, he told her how he felt when he was in his wolf form and how much he knew she would love it.

Once she fell asleep he went to his room and waited for the sound of the front door to clothes and footsteps up the floor before he came out. He stepped out from his doorway in only a pair of sleep pants, his eyes landed on Y/n and his brows rose. Her face was splattered with dried blood and her hands covered in it. She looked back at him but didn’t utter a word, just went straight for the bathroom.

Klaus followed her quickly and closed the door behind them so that Hope wouldn’t see Y/n looking so dishevelled.

“What happened?” He whispered as she tried to shimmy out of her clothes without touching anything else. He leaned over and clicked the shower on.

“It’s nothing” she mumbled, peeling her shirt from her skin leaving her in just her bra and panties as her jeans lay in a puddle on the floor. Klaus frowned and his hand cupped her face but she pushed it away. “Go away I need to shower” she muttered as she unhooked her bra and he sighed before walking out and staring at the bathroom door as she scrubbed the blood away.

He waited for her to come back out before pestering her again. Demanding to know where she was, what she was doing, who she was doing it to or with. Eventually she snapped and told him it was for Hope. She told him that people had been trying to kill her or take her all of the time, no matter how many spells were on her to protect her. So she had to get rid of the few people who knew their location and also make new vampires near where they were to ensure security.

Klaus didn’t know how to feel.

Before, she was strong headed but she had never been a killer. She did what she had to but she was still emotional and compassionate. He blamed himself, he wanted her to be a Mikaelson and she had become one. She acted like one, she loved like one, she was one.

“I can do that for you, for Hope” he told her gently and she couldn’t help the scoff that left her making him sigh. “Love, we’re here now, it isn’t your job to fight anymore” he argued and she glared at him.

“It was never my job.” She bit, “I did it because I wanted to. I do it because I want to. Hope is safe because of me, you are all safe because of me and I will keep it that way because even after a thousand years you lot still wind up dead time and time again!” She sneered, her vampiric features displaying across her face as her anger rose.

Klaus stared at her as she glared at him, she was mad and he knew that. She had been saving her rage for five years. She was mad that they left her alone, she was mad they let Hayley die not once but twice. She was mad that they hadn’t listened to her all those years ago, she was mad she became a vampire because of them. She was mad that she had never been given an easy option since the day she met them. She was mad and she needed to express it and if there was something Klaus was good at, it was expressing his rage.

So he pushed her, hard. Y/n stumbled back and felt herself tik. She flew back at him roughly, causing him to hit straight back against the wall with a wince before going back to her and shoving her. He only put his hands on her a couple more times before her hands were swinging and her nails clawed at him. He whispered for her to keep going, to get it out as she cried and hit at him. She told him all the things she hated about him and his family. All the things he had put her through and all the struggle she had with Hope. Having to look after a Mikaelson witch with werewolf anger and vampire strength was not something anyone was equipped for but Y/n, a newly turned vampire was certainly not.

Eventually she was too exhausted to keep going. Klaus was on the floor, propped up against the door with his bloodied arm around her shoulders as she curled against him and sobbed. His face and body slowly healed, as he panted for air and rest his head against hers.

After a while she calmed down and realised how much she had hurt him and started crying for the pain she had caused. Klaus told her he had wanted her to so it was okay but she hated herself for it either way. They ended up back in the bathroom, taking separate showers again before heading back out and being in a better mood. They kissed each other on the cheek goodnight and went to bed.

The next morning Y/n was lighter on her feet, she already seemed more relaxed and settled. Less on edge wondering when she would explode with anger. Hope gave Klaus a weird look and asked if they finally admitted they loved each other but he shook his head and she shrugged. Y/n was happy so Hope was happy.

Klaus and Y/n took Hope to her school before going back home and digging up the garden to start planting herbs and flowers. Some had magical properties and some didn’t. Klaus handled the vervain and Y/n handled the wolvesbane before they went inside and started making lunch only for them to get bored and decide to go out instead.

They went down to a small cafe and just ended up having sandwiches and cake anyway but at were happy that they didn’t have to make it themselves.

After they headed back home they cleaned up the house and discussed Hopes upcoming birthday. Y/n told him about her past birthdays and presents and showed him pictures from the last few years.

Weeks went by, Klaus and Y/n became the power parents they had both hoped they would be and Hope finally had the family she wanted.

Hope however started to get annoyed. She just needed them to give in and be together. So she started making hints. But apparently they weren’t strong enough so she went with being direct.

“Would you two just kiss already? Stop staring at each other!” She yelled from the kitchen, knowing they were glancing to one another while the film played in the background. Y/n blushed pink and Klaus cleared his throat, getting up and grabbing Hope. He spun her around and tickled her sides, whispering for her to shut her mouth while she squirmed and giggled.

It happened on many occasions that Hope would just tell them to get on with it. Klaus would watch for Y/n’s reaction waiting for her to give him the okay.

It was late one night when she finally did. It was just them downstairs, Hope was over at a friend’s house for a sleepover so just the two of them were watching usual Saturday night television. They were cuddled up with a blanket around them when Y/n leaned her head back and gave him a look. His brows briefly furrowed as he tried to decipher it before a tense silence overcame them. Both daring the other to do it.

Klaus caved first, leaning down and pressing his mouth to hers. Their lips moved in unison and Y/n’s hands went to his hair, tugging him onto her. The soft, wet sounds of their mouths filled the small amount of air between them as he pushed her down against the sofa and slid his hands under her thighs, hiking her legs up and round his waist.

Y/n stroked her hands round his face, her fingers memorising every detail of his face. Her thumbs brushed over his ears and down his neck while her tongue wrapped around his. Klaus slid his hands up and under her shirt, gliding along her skin to her bra. His fingers teased the lace making her pull her mouth from his and tug her shirt over her head.

Klaus kissed her lips again softly before pressing his own to her chest. Her hand cupped the back of his head, her eyes following his lips as they kissed and sucked down the valley between her breasts slowly. His other hand slid beneath her to unhook her bra and pull it off her arms.

She breathed heavily, looking up at him with lustrous eyes.

“You look so gorgeous” he murmured as he lowered his head to wrap his lips round one of her nipples. Y/n moaned softly as it pebbled against his tongue and her back arched to push her breasts against his face. He groaned softly and squeezed them both in his hands while his mouth teased them both interchangeably.

Y/n moaned his name and lifted his Henley over his head and slid her hands down his chest while his fingers picked at the button on her jeans. She helped drag them off her legs and quickly got her hands onto his. He kicked his own off and pressed himself back against her.

Their mouths were back against each other in a heated frenzy and his erection pressed against his boxers and then against her panties. She moaned against him and thrust her hips up to feel him. Klaus moved his lips down to her jaw and nipped at the skin while his hand made its way down to her stomach.

"Klaus" she whispered breathlessly as she pulled her lips off his and looked down to where his fingers brushed along the soft material of her underwear.

"Please" he uttered. It was an unexpected word for him to say but it made her eyes shimmer as she looked up at him. He leaned down to kiss her once again and she allowed herself to melt into it as he slowly dragged her panties down and off her legs. His hands brushed back up her thighs and she didn't resist when he guided them open and flat against the bed.

Klaus gently stroked his fingers along her pussy lips. Klaus groaned softly as they slid through her wetness and found her clit. Y/n let out a small gasp and pulled her head back, Klaus looked down at her as the back of her head pressed against the couch. Their eyes locked as the pad of his finger rubbed little circles against her clit. He watched in lust and fascination as her breathing escalated and her eyes watered while she tried to keep them open and focused on him.

"I missed you so much" he admitted quietly while pushing a finger into her entrance. Y/n let out a sweet cry that made the desire within him swirl and spike. His finger curled inside her perfectly, his thumb continued to pet her bundle of nerves until her body couldn't help but grind against his hand and his lips pressed a row of kisses along her throat.

"Klaus" she repeated with a moan and he smiled against her skin.

"I thought of you every day" he whispered as another finger began to thrust inside her with each precise flick of his wrist.

"You did?" she whimpered, her heart swelling with love and bashfulness. He nodded with a soft look in his eyes and pumped his fingers deeper into her until the breath was taken from her lungs.

"You were always right there in my mind. You brought me peace" he told her and she moaned weakly. Her hands squeezes at the sheets below her as her eyes shut. Klaus's fingers thrust and curled beautifully to meet the sensitive point that made her toes curl and her pussy clench tightly. "You saved me from myself" he whispered as his lips trailed down the front of her body again, a little quicker this time. His thumb brushed over her clit before his tongue replaced it.

Y/n's body arched in delight and her legs quivered as the soft heat of his mouth caressed her cunt. His tongue swirled around her sensitive bud as his fingers picked up the pace. His eyes closed as the addictive taste of her soaked onto his tongue. Her body arched and tensed with each flick of his tongue and a cry of desperation bounced off the walls as her orgasm pulsed through her. Klaus groaned softly as her pussy quivered and weeped around his fingers. He carefully, gently pulled his fingers out from her and used his mouth to clean her up.

He kissed his way back up her body to her lips and kissed her deeply, swallowing her weak moans of satisfaction and caressing his hands up along her skin. Y/n's hands brushed through his curls gently making them fluff up. Klaus pulled back and looked down at her with a genuine smile and let out a small chuckle when he felt his hair frizz.

She gazed back at him almost shyly. She had wanted him to touch her like that for so long. Too many years of longing. Raising Hope had taken away from any social life she could have had the past five years but even if Hope hadn't been a priority, Y/n only thought of Klaus like that. She could't believe that he had seen her so bare and vulnerable after all those years, touched and tasted her like she dreamed he would.

Klaus could see the thoughts dancing through her mind and slowly stroked her hair as he let her daze float over her. He pulled her to his body, wrapping her in his arm and laying with her for a bit. This was something he didn't want to push or rush. He just wanted to soak this up and be with her forever.

Y/n lay on top his body as they rest against the couch. A blanket draped over them while their eyes watched the screen before them. They were both nearly asleep but neither wanted to move so they stayed there the whole night.

By morning they were back up and getting ready to get Hope from her friends. Hope's eyes narrowed on them as soon as she got in the car, a small smile creeping onto her lips as she saw their entwined hands while they drove home.

When she got home she gave her mother a smile before offering a discreet thumbs up to her dad which made him chuckle and shake his head as she starting making kissey faces and running up the stairs giggling.

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famwhy · 11 months

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Bereavement (2)

noun

/bɪˈriːv.mənt/ The state one is in when losing someone important to them

Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse

42! Miles X F!Reader, 1610! Miles X F!Reader

Synopsis: Miles is missing, and all you can think about is getting him back. Upon finally finding him, however, you're taken aback by the copy that stands beside him—the same copy that was staring at you with wide, shaking eyes full of... disbelief?

Note: I can't—for the life of me—believe how many notes the first part got after just a few days of being out, you guys are actually insane. Thank you all so much. And thank you too, Kingpin, for giving me the idea in the first place lmao. (Do me a huge solid and lemme know if any of my Spanish needs some work, I studied it for 3 years but it's been over a year since it's been put to practice so I'm a little rusty)

Miles would never drop you, not in a million years—you knew that.

Something had stopped him, forced him to let go as he froze in time; in an assortment of colours he couldn't control—that was how you found yourself where you were now—free-falling to your death for what was perhaps the second time in your life.

"Y/N!"

It was a lot scarier the first time—you had to admit—when you fell from the glass room right beside the huge collider more than a year ago. At the time, Miles had insisted you stay away from his spider business for your own safety, but you—being you—followed him down anyway.

That was your first mistake.

Your second—however—came in the form of letting Kingpin know you were there after allowing quite the ridiculous sneeze out of your mouth. And once he saw you, it wasn't hard for him to pick you up and throw you through the shattered glass in his rage and dismay of his failed plan.

Miles had his back completely turned to you when it happened, and yet—somehow—he was the first to whip his head around and notice your quickly descending form.

"Y/N!"

You had come so close to the ground—seconds away from touching it—when that familiar warmth wrapped its way around your waist, carrying you through the wind to prop you onto your own little cloud of safety.

Ever since then, Miles refused to leave your side. He took you out on every mission he went to—pretty much every news station had you pinned down as 'Spiderman's girl' and he never bothered to correct them.

So even as Gwen went off to another dimension, Miles grabbed you before following after. Even as he was invited to the headquarters of this 'spider society', he refused to go without them also granting you permission inside too.

When you asked him why he went to such lengths for you, he simply replied, "I almost lost you once while being in the same dimension as you, if you think I'm going to let it even come close to happening again, you've got another thing coming."

So no, you didn't find the second time you were falling to your death all that scary. Not when you knew Miles would save you—

"I've got you, cariño."

—you just didn't exactly know that it would be the other one that did.

His arms were wound tightly around the underside of your knees and upper back—carrying you so intimately, looking at you with so much love in his eyes, you found yourself growing slightly flustered.

...okay, very flustered.

"Oh, Cariño," as he spoke, he didn't lose the breath in his tone—the gentle air of disbelief he took on since your arrival, "you're here. I can't believe it—you're here. Te extrañé mucho." ("I missed you so much.")

You were speechless, gaping up at him like a clueless fish—what else could you do? You were being held in the arms of a copy of your best friend after he basically just confessed to you because the 'you' in this universe was apparently dead.

Though, luckily for you, there was no need to say a word for he continued speaking with those soft, fond eyes, "I missed your smile and your laugh. I missed how you always used to tug me around whenever something caught your eye... and how you would go on and on about whatever show was your new obsession of the month. You were always so... pretty when you spoke passionately.

"Speak for me, cariño," he continued, "let me hear that pretty voice of yours again."

"I—" you were stuttering—why were you stuttering?—"I, uh..."

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

"Miles—"

"Ah, I just realised how much I missed the way you say my name."

"—guh!" How the hell was he spitting such smooth lines? "Miles! Just listen for a minute, okay?!"

"Of course, mamí."

"I— I'm not who you think I am. I mean, I am Y/N but I'm not your Y/N. And you're not my Miles."

As the words came tumbling out your mouth, the boy's—this earth's Miles'—lips tugged down, gaze hardening and grip around you ever-so-slowly growing tighter.

"Don't be silly, mamí, of course I'm your Miles. I always have been and always will be."

Your brows furrowed and your eyes trailed to the view behind him, moving rapidly as you tried to locate your best friend. Though, soon, your view of the sky was cut off by the male with braids once more.

"What are you doing?" A growl. "Stop looking for him, look at me. I'm right here. He dropped you."

"He glitched! This isn't his world so of course he would, it wasn't his fault!"

You were quick to defend him—he was your best friend so of course you were. There was no way you were having anyone accuse him of anything negative, even himself.

"Cariño, you almost died. Again. He can't take care of you." Miles narrowed his eyes, as if just the thought pissed him off; as if he had the right to be pissed off.

"Oh what?" You scoffed. "And you can? I'm my own person, I don't need to be taken care of."

Stubbornly, you found yourself pulling away from him—or well, attempting to at least, he didn't seem to want to let you though, judging by the way his claws slowly began to dig into you a little.

His eyes were narrowed and his lips were tugged down, gaze seeming to pierce through you—as though he was trying to use you as a vessel to glare at the person he was really mad at.

Though, soon, the expression was gone, replaced by sullen eyes and an almost-far-away look—glossed over in a cloudy haze full of what you could only assume to be the grand despair that was grief; grief over a loss so great, it would pain someone to even admit it ever happened.

"Cariño, please. I don't want to argue with you, I just got you back. Please."

The look on his face, the crack in his voice—it was all too much, you almost couldn't stomach it, and soon, your arms loosened up as you lost the will to pull away.

"Miles," you whispered, "I... I'm really sorry—"

"Don't be, you're here with me now, aren't you? We can make up for all that lost time."

"I can't." Your vision blurred as you shook your head from side-to-side. "I'm sorry, I can't."

For a moment, all was silent. No words were exchanged, leaving only the strong wind to howl in your ears; to warn you of your grave mistake and whisper taunts into your ears. Then—

"It's because of him, isn't it?"

You almost couldn't muster words. "Huh?"

"The other me—it's because of him that you won't stay with me, isn't it?"

The look in his eyes was something of a dark nature, swirling with malice; with hate so inextricibly deep, you almost couldn't believe your own eyes—because... because there was just no way, right? There was no way your Miles (or any other Miles for that matter) could exhibit such a lethal level of loathing towards anyone...

"If I get rid of him, it won't be so much of a problem anymore... sí?"

...or was there?

@justmare, @majestichugs, @milktealvrr, @ladyfairenvale, @sakura-onesan, @haunted-pass, @phoenixgurl030, @stupendousnightmaretrash, @ultimate-geek14, @liaaa-1, @sluslutts, @angrypomeranianwifey, @thatbeanieboss, @kkate8008, @lilslmao, @honeydewpie, @elenasstxarr, @sloverr, @quartzangel0, @crystalsinwater, @astrosdelululand, @sflame15-blog, @nightshxdex, @dottoresgarden, @crowshiny, @teamowolverine, @bangtannie7, @k0la22, @kissmxcheek, @myloveforreading, @jared-oranges, @shisuishoe, @veryfancydoilies, @sunshinesetsstuff, @lovefks, @omg-the-nutella-queen, @hazzapotter, @levanneisdumb, @angie2274, @blueberrystigma

#miles morales #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #across the spiderverse #female reader #miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles #earth 42 miles x reader #prowler miles #earth 42 #earth 42 miles morales #miles morales prowler #spiderverse

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flamingpudding · 1 year

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Part 3 of Ghost Kid in Gotham

<<1 Previous Next

Feral brother of mine

When Damien first saw the video from Todd's helmet he only thought of his older brother as an imbecile that apparently couldn't handle children that was until Drake paused the video on the child's face before the video cut off.

Then Richard pointed out the similarities to Damien and of course his first thought was that his mother had made another clone again that they would need to dispose of. That was until he took a closer look at the image when Drake zoomed in. It was still blurry but Damien would recognise that face anywhere and in any state.

Despite his memory being faded it was the face of someone he never wanted to forget and would let freely hunt his dreams. Even if it was to recall the good times or even the bad times through nightmares. Freckles that mirrored constellations and scar by the ear from a training session when the others' dodging ability had not yet been up to par when they were five. Hair longer than his own and less tameable.

Danyal Al Ghul.

His twin that he killed at the age of eight when their grandfather forced them into a fight to death. This was not a simple clone of Damien himself and the teen was pretty sure that his mother must have lost it. Because what else then a clone of his own brother could this be, she probably must have preserved some of Danyal's DNA if not his entire body for this. He must also applaud her cruelty, for the clone was at the exact age his brother had died at.

He does not know why nor how his mother had managed to cause glowing Lazarus green eyes. None of his clones had ever shown these before but a part of him didn't want to know. It already made him sick enough to know that his mother would go so far as to clone Danyal.

All he wanted was to get rid of this cruel clone that wore his long dead brother's face. The knowledge of his brother was something Damien held dear. It was something that belonged to him only and the burden of his death was not something he ever wanted to share either. Besides what use would it be to his family to mourn a member they never would have gotten to meet.

Even as he glared at Todd, who had let loose the feral clone. He could not bring himself to tell them that this was most likely not just a simple clone of himself.

"Come on guys, there is a child running around the Bat Cave. You can fight later about how to safely keep the boy in check."

Clicking his tongue he turned away from his older siblings and drew out his katana. "<tt> I will get rid of that thing myself."

A thing, that was what it was. Damien didn't need his personal feelings or his memories of a twin that could smile brighter than the desert sun despite their pain, get in the way of his rationality. He could not allow this mockery of his twin brother to live on.

He went for the darker areas of the Cave knowing the league trained mind and he was in luck as he was the first to find the feral child hidden away in the area that lead to the medbay. By now the thing was even armed. Damien recognised the dagger as one of his training once, he probably had accidentally left it out of its casing after training right before patrol.

The ex-league prodigy did not give the clone time to react as he attacked without warning. Chasing it through the Bat Cave as it avoided his attacks yet made no move to attack him the way it had Todd. At times the way it dodged made Damien stutter slightly something that never happened before. He slashed at it, ignoring his siblings that shouted for him to stop from the side lines. Ignoring the flashes in his mind of a fight years ago that was similar yet so different.

"I will not let this mockery run free." He muttered pointing his blade as it hissed at him in return. What a feral thing it was, he waited for it to make the first move this time. Clones were not perfect, their forms were lacking, They might retain skills of their original but they rarely were the same let alone cable of thinking outside of what their creator, his mother wanted. He pointedly ignored anything he new about certain clones. They weren't created by his mother, therefore did not count in regards to his conclusion. Yet it was painful seeing this mockery of his dead brother appearing like a perfect copy.

The stance it held with the dagger, despite the feral hissing and movements, it was the exact same his brother had. Sword stances, like martial arts stances had a basic form, every wielder learned and then developed further into their own unique one with time. Danyal had one where he tended to hold the dagger or even swords backwards in his left hand while his right arm covered his empty side with a slight tilt to the back, always ready to reach for any weapon he would carry in hidden pockets on his back.

It was painful to see this clone, this thing mimicking his brother's stand this perfectly. Damien could only narrow his eyes in determination, or was it desperation by now? This was just one more reason to get rid of it. It just hurt even more when with a quick gaze towards the hand that held the dagger Damien also noticed a bad habit his brother had always retained and the league had also never been able to train out of him. It was a small habit, unnoticeable if you wouldn't look for it, yet dangerous to the sword / dagger wielder if they were inexperienced.

Danyal tended to let his thumb rest against the guard if the blade had one or against the blade itself even if it didn't have one. He knows that his twin used to have scaring on his thumb from this habit, especially from their early training years.

This thing was even imitating his brother's habit.

He wanted it gone. Rip it apart and present it to his mother with all the anger and grief it brought to him.

"Guys stop Damien now! That is not a clone!" He heard Drake yell from where the Batcomputer was but he didn't care. This was a clone, so he lunged at the it again. Ignoring how the clone had studied him like he had it. Ignoring how its stance had changed the longer they had watched each other and how that thing let its guard down all of a sudden.

"Damien! Stop!"

It dropped all defenses and Damien could only see that as his chance to deal the final blow to get rid of it. But what he didn't expect despite the dropped defenses was for the clone to also just drop the dagger, close its eyes and smile. The same smile that still hunted his nightmares. His mind flashed back to eight years ago.

"Demon brat! Calm the fuck down!"

The blade stopped inches from the same fatal placement that had killed his brother before. Drake and Richard were right behind him while Todd was by the clone's side gripping at the blade with his bare hands, most likely bleeding already.

"Why?" Damien uttered quietly, his eyes trained on the thing. Richard must have thought that his question had been directed towards them stopping him but that wasn't the case.

"Look Dami, how about listening to what Tim found out first before we decide what to do with that child?"

"Not you." He couldn't help but snap back at them as he withdrew his katana, hearing Todd mutter something about sharp blades and bandaids as well as several curses under his breath. His eyes stayed on the thing. "Why would you let me kill you? Why drop your defence ces? Why not dodge?"

The thing titled its head its glowing green eyes were trained on Damien and he noticed how they flickered into a blue that was so familiar yet so different with the way they glowed. It made chirping noises before it whispered something.

"ahbak, Dami"

Damien froze for a moment there at the quiet words the thing had whispered. How was he supposed to react now? Was this even a clone, no he knew this was a clone. There was no way Danyal was alive let alone still eight years old. He had killed his own brother, he had held him in his own arms as Danyal took his final breath, smiling at him and uttering the same words he had just heard again after so many years.

Even if Danyal had survived somehow then he should be the same age as him. Not the age he had died at. Besides, their grandfather would have never allowed them to use the pits to revive his twin.

"FUCK!"

Intentionally or not Todd's outcry had ripped him out of his thoughts by a rather pathetic yowl of pain. It was like a switch had been flipped in the clone's mind as his brother had reached out to probably detain it again. The moment Todd had touched him, the thing had bitten into his hand before letting go, hissing and running away from them once more.

But instead of running after that thing Damien stood frozen in place, his mind still racing. He could feel Richard's hands on his shoulders, grounding the teenager with the warmth they provided. "You okay there Baby Bird? You seem rather out of it suddenly."

"<tt> I am fine." His only offered answer, ignoring the worried looks he was getting as he moved to wipe Todd's blood off his blade. He needed a distraction before his mind became any more chaotic and unreasonable. "What did Drake find out?"

"Right… you sure you want to hear that right now?" Giving Richard an unimpressed stare, the oldest sighed looking over towards Drake.

"Well I got good news and probably bad news." Side eyeing his brother Damien kept silent waiting for him to continue.

"I can safely say that the child is not a clone. His DNA does not 100% match yours. It differs too much but - and this is where it's probably bad news - it matches with you to 45%, with a matching to Bruce to about 50%, same with Talia. If I run a paternity test I am sure it would be a hit for Bruce and Talia."

Damien swallowed taking in that information, knowing what it meant. Was he horrified? Yes. Did it also awaken a strange sort of hope? Also, Yes.

"But there was a third compartment of the child's DNA structure which was impossible to test. It could even corrupt DNA samples if not taken apart from the rest. It probably has something to do with the green specs I found in his blood too. So I ran a substance analysis and - you probably won't like this - but it got a hit from a substance we have recorded in our database."

"What substance?" Damien knew, he just knew he wouldn't like the next words Drake would say. He could feel Richard squeezing his shoulder as if to help him keep stable.

"Lazarus Water. It matched with what we have recorded from the Lazarus Pits."

"Drake, are you telling me that after eight years, my mother who apparently had preserved my dead twin brother's body, dropped said body into the Lazarus Pits to revive him and then drop him off with Todd of all people?"

"Yes, wait… dead twin brother's body?"

#danny fenton #danny phantom #danny and damian are twins #de aged danny #dp x dc #feral danny #fanfic #damian wayne #jason todd #tim drake #richard grayson #dc x dp #unedited #crossover #no beta wie die like danny #he still only bites jason #I have no idea if I used ahbak correctly #still learning how to best blog fanfics here #dpxdc

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yokohamapound · 4 months

Note

How about some angsty HCs?? 😏

How would Kunikida, Dazai, Fukuzawa, Chuuya and Fyodor (or anyone else you’d like too) react to their s/o taking a hit for them that would have otherwise been fatal if they didn’t?? S/o ends up being okay but the gentlemen are all angsty in the meantime >:)

Thanks so much lovely! 🥰💕

Hello, my lovely! It's been a while since I wrote some good old angst, so this scratched an itch. I hope these are what you are looking for!

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: death mentions, suicide mentions, controlling behaviour, anger issues

Nakahara Chuuya

Ooh, it’s kinda difficult for him to deal with? He’s in two minds about it, really.

On one hand, he’s strong enough that whatever blow was being dealt to him really wouldn’t have hurt him that much, or so he tells himself. All he can think about is that moment where the bullet/bomb/fireball, whatever it is, was coming toward you. Yes, you survived it, but he had to live through the nanoseconds of absolute hell when he thought he was just about to see another person he cares about die right before his eyes.

His temper erupts afterward. He’s furious, yelling at you that you “didn’t fuckin’ need to do that!” You’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s his pride you’ve hurt, but it’s anger born of worry. Those few moments he thought you were going to die were harrowing for him.

Imagine if he carelessly lost the person he loves the most, just because he was too slow or too stupid to see it coming? Shit, he could never live with himself if that happened.

However, there’s the other side of the coin. Which is that you cared about him enough to intercept a blow aimed at him. Chuuya can’t remember the last time someone did that for him. He’s used to being the tank, to soaking up all the violence so the geniuses can get on with their schemes. He doesn’t really know how to handle someone trying to protect him, like he’s something vulnerable.

He likes it and he doesn’t. He’s grateful and he’s pissed. Chuuya’s a complicated creature.

Once he’s done yelling and has calmed down a little, he’ll mutter something that sounds like a ‘thank you’, though he says it with his eyes mulishly averted and one arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He won’t be letting you out of his sight for a while, even while he’s being a grouch.

Dazai Osamu

While he might not show it on the surface, this has a rather profound effect on Dazai. Remember the last time someone he loved died in front of him?

While he pretends to be calm on the surface, inside he’s in turmoil. He should have seen it coming; you’re the self-sacrificing sort, always trying to save him in one or another. But before now, it hasn’t been literal.

I feel like time moves very slowly for someone as fast as Dazai. He was able to process far too much information in those few seconds you were in danger. All of his mistakes, laid out for him as plain as day.

He tends to convince himself that he can plan around every kind of incident but this is a start reminded that this isn’t always the case.

“Hey, bella?” His tone is unusually serious. His hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to need you not to do that again. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you die in front of me.”

If you pay close attention, you’ll notice Dazai doesn’t make any more double suicide jokes after that. They don’t have the same appeal. Dazai doesn’t think he could stand to watch you die, even if you did want to join him.

He keeps a close watch on you after that, turning up unexpectedly throughout your day without any explanation, his lanky form popping up like a weed.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

While he will never, ever reveal it, this will shake Fyodor’s iron-clad ego a little bit. He likes to think he is in control of everything, and he can predict every single action of yours down to the blink. For whatever reason, he didn’t foresee you getting in his way and taking a hit meant for him.

You gain an element of unpredictability, which is both intriguing and alarming for him.

There is also the fact that you stepped in to take a hit for him. While he’s used to having underlings who look up to him like a god (Ivan), he doesn’t count you amongst the peons. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, but in a way that promotes adoration and obedience, not self-sacrificing recklessness. He’ll have to step back and examine your relationship somewhat.

“My darling, what was the meaning of that?” he asks of you, his tone soft and a little dangerous. “I do not need you flinging yourself in the path of danger for me. I have everything in hand.”

He likes your devotion, but he doesn’t want you getting in the way of his plans. And he does care about you, love you in his own way—he doesn’t want to lose something he sees as his.

If you were injured at all, he will have the best private doctors on hand to treat you. Be prepared for his love and attention to be a little stifling for a while. He won’t want to let you out of his sight.

As for the person whose attack you foiled? Fyodor will turn the full weight of his enormous intellect to destroying them. They were dead the moment their attack came near something he cares about.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Fukuzawa is very much the self-sacrificing sort. He’s said more than once that he doesn’t mind giving up his life in order to ensure peace in Yokohama, or to protect the lives of the younger members of the agency. He’s heavily bound by duty.

While he holds these values to himself, he doesn’t expect you to abide by the same code. In fact, he doesn’t want you to. You’re not a grizzled old samurai like him. (His words, not yours.)

He also heavily dislikes the idea that you were in danger because of him. Your relationship with him shouldn’t be a source of danger for you. As soon as he’s sure you’re safe and well, he will sit back and mull things over in his silent, intense way. He considers all options, from simply killing the person who tried to attack him, to ending your relationship with him to ensure your safety.

Thankfully, he comes to the conclusion that you are an adult who knows what is good for you. He’s never hidden the truth from you, and if you’re willing to face that to stand at his side, then Fukuzawa needs to respect that. He can’t make your decisions for you.

“However,” he says. “I must ask that you do not do that again. I can accept my own death, but not yours.”

“Don’t you trust me to watch your back?”

“Obviously, you can be trusted,” he says. “Today is evidence enough, but know that I could not live with myself if you were injured or killed looking out for me. If death is coming for me, I have earned it.”

He can’t really be talked out of this mindset, but that’s part of why you fell for him in the first place. Just make him a promise that you won’t put yourself at risk on his behalf.

Kunikida Doppo

Poor Kunikida.

One of his ideals is that he will never watch anyone die right in front of him if he can help it. The last time he had to watch an innocent person die, it almost shattered his psyche.

If you were to die in front of him, it would break him utterly. Even though you’re fine, the close shave rattles him down to his core. Instead of blowing his top and then settling down, the way you’re used to him doing, Kunikida becomes grim and quiet.

He refuses to step away from your bedside while you’re in the hospital for a check-up after the incident. His notebook of ideals is folded in his pocket, ignored. The fact he isn’t scribbling anything down is a little alarming. He’s not Kunikida if he’s not adding little notes to it every five minutes. He has his hands steepled together, his face grim behind his glasses.

“Are you going to yell at me?” you ask him.

Kunikida lifts his gaze to you, almost as if he’s surprised to hear you speak. He breaks out of his reverie a little bit, sitting up and pushing his glasses further up his nose. The light hits the lenses, hiding his expression from you a little. His voice is sombre.

“I must thank you for saving my life,” he tells you, almost formal.

“That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?” You know him well enough by now. You reach out and take one of his hands.

Kunikida fingers tighten around yours, trembling slightly. It’s the only way that you can see how completely off centre he is.

“Kunikida?”

“Don’t…don’t make me worry like that again. Please.”

#yokohama pound #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #Nakahara Chuuya #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Dazai Osamu #Fukuzawa Yukichi #Kunikida Doppo #Chuuya x Reader #Dazai x Reader #Kunikida x Reader #Fukuzawa x Reader #Fyodor x Reader #angst

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brailsthesmolgurl · 2 months

Text

Delirious

No matter how much you had offered your heart and arms to him, you were never his. And he was never yours.

Another oneshot requested by my angsty babies, I am glad you chose Rafayel. Yes, the writer you had wished for is back. Hang on tight to your seats baby gurl, this one gonna be hard to swallow.

Warnings: Angst, no comfort. Make your eyes bleed. Character death. Descriptive Mentions of dark topics so if ur sensitive please refrain.

Artwork is not mine, please support the original artwork!

Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. dINg dOng. DiNg dOnG.

You slammed your door opened and the 183cm drama queen stands in your doorway, head hung low, face drooped towards the floor. If he is not made of solid muscle and bones, you would be watching him melting right into the floor. Sighing, you stood aside and let him in, not even bothering to ask him a single question. You sort of having a gist on what had happened.

"Here, soup for you." He replied solemnly, feet carrying him lazily across the living room and to your kitchen. He brought soup this time, must be something big. Him bringing a souvenir over also means he would probably be staying the night. Not that you guys are in a relationship or anything, but 'complicated' is the right term for the both of you as of this stage.

The chair creaked under his weight as he took a seat on the wooden chair slotted at your dining table. "Rafayel." You grabbed a tissue box and sat down on the opposite end, a good necessity whenever he drops by your house unannounced. His hunched over form under the harsh lighting of your dining room's light unexpectedly painted a blob of shadow on your table. You reached your hand out this time, finger tapped on the wooden table just a few centimeters away from his hand. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

"She broke up with me." His reply was short. No details, no whining, no accusations, but just one sentence. This is an untouched territory for you. Most of the time, he would pressed on the doorbell nonstop until you slam open the door and his lips would not shut off till he was done venting. There were a couple of times he did came in looking like a dreaded fish, but the smell of alcohol would be the perfume of his. Today, however, no alcohol smell and no usual harangues.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Few days passed, till few weeks, then few months after. For such a while, Rafayel had been hanging out more frequently with you, bringing you to the most random places to hang out such as going to a bowling alley just to get their waffles because he claims he likes to watch people roll balls but he also likes the waffles there. A trip to the market only to buy crabs and releasing them into the backyard to watch which one could run the fastest then the winner shall be rewarded as dinner on the dining table.

He had never been weirder than ever, but maybe this is his way of coping and who are you to judge? You had never been in love. But reading through romance books and watching all of the romantic shows, when love comes to your mind, Rafayel comes to your mind. You thought, maybe you do love him?

"Get out." Your words were final. Index finger sliced through the air and pointed straight towards your front door. Your cheeks glistened under the reflecting light casted by the television that was playing a teen romance flick. But no attention was spared for the movie anymore. "Rafayel. GET. OUT."

"What do you mean?" Eyebrows sewn together, eyeing your expression that spelled hurt. He was confused about your sudden burst of anger. "All I did was talk about the movie. And you got mad at me all of a sudden."

"You did not talk about the movie. All you did, was compared me to her, with the context of the movie." Your nostrils flared, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as if you had inhaled poison. Your throat and chest tightening further the more you held your tears in. "You lied to me. You said you got over her." Your arm fell to your sides, voice feeble. "But, why do you always find the need to compare me to her?"

"Oh spare me, I just went through a breakup, I could use the space to let loose, can't I?" His ignorance egged you on, seeing how indifferent he is about this situation. "Furthermore, I could use the---"

"And you think it's okay to play with my feelings?!" You belted, eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You stepped up to him, hands pointed towards his face this time and you seethed in anger. "You, came here everytime, when she broke your heart. And out of everytime, I stayed. I waited." Your voice started cracking. "I was there for you when you had nobody else. And I picked you up when you thought you could not live without her anymore."

"Well, you could have just left if you---" He chipped in and you slapped him across his face with your palm. Although your hands are small, but it packed enough of a force to cause his cheek to ache, an uncomfortable throbbing pain following afterwards. He left his head tilted to the side, taking in the reality of what had happened. He just got slapped by a girl. Never in his life, he thought he would do something so outrageous that he would get slapped across the face. Guess he just broke his streak of not getting slapped by women.

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, CAN'T YOU TELL?!" You withdrew your hands and slid onto the floor, full on sobbing as you hugged onto your body to gain warmth for yourself. All of the blood had rushed up to your head which explains why you could not feel your legs anymore, hence the position on the floor. You desperately hoped Rafayel would grab you right now, and hug you tight within his arms.

You heard hurried shuffles, sound of keys jangling and a soft thud next to you. Those noises not tending to your curiosity at all. "I am sorry." His reply was bland, numb even. A sentence for remorse, also a sentence for a goodbye. The doors closed behind you and you were left alone, a forlorn soul basked within the lights emitted from the romance show. Silent sobs overheard by the moon that was peeking in through the windows of your sky roof.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

"Rafayel!" Thomas burst in the front doors, scurrying towards Rafayel's room at full speed after spotting the empty canvas sitting at the living room. Slamming the door that leads to Rafayel's room, the artist was sprawled out on the bed, his room so cold that Thomas could have just witnessed the North Pole without having to be there. The floor was surrounded in trash, papers crumpled up, pencils of all kinds used for sketching strewn across the floor. One may call it an organised mess, but Thomas calls this artist block.

"How long have you been in this room?!" Thomas shook Rafayel's shoulders to wake him up. "Your room is as cold as the cold storage that you use to store your seafood!" Thomas wasted no time in having to collect the pieces of papers and pencils on the floor, arranging them in his hand. "Why are you not done with---"

His nag came to a halt when Rafayel had sat up straight, back hunched over and eye bags the only colour present on his pale features. "What do you want?" Even his voice sounds hoarse, like a teen boy cycling through the age of puberty. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Your calls, as usual, went unanswered for the past few days so I helped myself by going over to ask y/n about your whereabouts because I thought you were staying with her pretty often these days." Placing the items onto the artist's white desk, Thomas turned to study his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know that look from somewhere." He squinted his eyes, studying him even further. "You had that same look when you caught your ex cheating on you that night." Thomas was referring to the girl that came before you. The one that had broke Rafayel's fragile heart. "Funny, now that I think of it, y/n's not doing any better than you."

Coming to realisation, the light bulb in Thomas' head flipped the switch. "Did anything happened to the both of you?"

"Did she asked anything about me?" Rafayel answered his question with another question. Eyes finally slanted upwards to face the manager of his. He just wanted to hear something, at least something to give him a reason to find her. He felt guilty, remorseful even for putting his burdens onto her. Leaving her all alone, drowning her in her own agony that day was the worse thing he could ever do to someone who had only ever been kind to him. And it took him three days to figure that out in his fish brain.

"No, she just asked me to hand you this." The older man reached into the pocket of his blazer, fishing a pink note out of his pocket and he handed it to Rafayel. The paper a little wrinkled, but the contents of it are a mark of your handwriting.

//𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹.// Your cursive writing always a form of art to his eyes. A small, dainty note was all that takes for her to personally pass on the will to him. Rafayel stared at the note for a good minute, the wind coming out of the air-conditioner turning Thomas into a popsicle but filling the silence.

"I have to go." Rafayel uttered, hoisting himself out of the bed in one go and he threw on his dark pistachio green open collared shirt. The one you always quipped about how healthy his skin tone looks in it but with him constantly bantering that the green was a direct insult to his hair and eye colour. Just for this time, he would smother his ego, put on your favourite outfit, and head over to find you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

The keys he held onto, the same set of extra keys you had entrusted him with, slotted into the keyhole and turning it clockwise, a 'clack' could be heard and he opened the door with the twist of the copper-painted doorknob. The balcony's sliding door remained opened, the sheer white curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind. The lights in your house were dimly lit, providing Rafayel with just enough lighting to navigate himself towards your room.

At this timing, in the middle of the night, he tiptoed through your wooden floors, afraid even the smallest of creaks would give you the spooks. He twisted the doorknob to your door but it jammed halfway. Trying again, with a bit more exerted force this time, the door remained unbudgable. "Y/N...?" He called out for your name, using his knuckle to give a light knock on your door. "It's me Rafayel. Can we talk?"

He was met with a deafening silence. Of course you would not want him to be anywhere near you, be it to hear him apologise for his stupidity or for him to comfort you within his arms. He bet you could care less about him given the last stunt he had pulled on you. He grappled for his phone, pulling out of his pant's back pocket and he turned on the screen, the light on his phone screen puts the dim lightings to shame.

He scrolled through his phone book till he stopped at your name, a heart symbol edited in next to your name. It was not just a stunt for him to catch your attention, the heart emoji has always been there, but after you had taken him in and allowed him to stay with you for a couple of weeks, the heart started making more sense to him, but poor Rafayel couldn’t distinguish what is love and what is bare attraction. If he could get to talk to you this time, then maybe the heart would mean the world to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he will not mess his speech up and break your heart again.

The phone was set to dial mode and he pressed onto the green call button, ready to receive shoutings from the other side of the room. Your ringtone rang, the stupid song for the Toothless Meme played on rewind. Did you slept a bit too well maybe? He called again, and the same scenario happened.

His heart was hit with a sudden pang of fear. You had always been a light sleeper and noticing the obnoxiously loud ringtone not even waking you up for the slightest bit, he decided to take a step back and bust down the door with his shoulder. Luckily, just with one hard nudge of his broad shoulders, the door dislodged itself.

So does his heart. Your whole room was thrashed, filled with the pink notes that you had given to Thomas earlier. Some were torn, some were sheathed, some had scribbles all over it, all of the notes littered with handwritten notes beyond his comprehension. Rafayel watched you, held up vertically, legs far from touching the ground, a noose was the only thing connecting you towards the ceiling. "Y/N!" He ran up to you and grabbed you, his lanky legs kicking all of the notes out of his way. "Y/N!"

A short burst of flames from his fingers burnt the noose and you fell to the floor. Your face a shade match to the moon that was sitting outside. Rafayel's hands fumbled with his phone, calling the emergency hotline as soon as he could. Strings of curses coming out of his mouth afterwards when he asked for help to be deployed to your location as soon as possible.

While awaiting for the ambulance, Rafayel did CPR, or at least what he could remember from the lesson he had taken years ago. Pumping steadily to a rhythm, blowing air through your mouth to hopefully deliver air to your lungs. The sirens of the ambulances huddled outside of your condominium, the blue and red lights adding on a speck of neon to the monotonous night.

"Stay with me please. Please stay with me y/n." Rafayel held you in his arms, your ice cold skin prickled against his warmth. His tears fell down his cheeks and continued its trail down your already tear-stricken face. He never thought his ruse would cause you this much damage. He thought that you could be the end to his delirium, and the start to his new reality.

The paramedics that arrived on the scene stood aimlessly at the door frame, watching the broken man in front of them, amidst the thrashed room, holding onto a lifeless body of a woman who seemingly cried herself to death.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Angsty af, this piece is part and partial of my experience as I had once struggled with my mental health before, and it was also due to a shitty ex. But I am doing much better now, and writing this brings back those shitty feels that I used to have, but also reminded me of how much more happier and stronger I am now, and that I am not choosing death because of my ex! :)

But if any of you, do have issues with mental health, please do seek for reliable help. As cliche as it sounds, life is not at all bad if you have people that are supportive of your recovery journey. If you needed someone to rant to, my dms are always open <3.

I do not wish harm for any of my readers, and I want you guys to know that just as much as ur supporting my works, I want to be there to support you if you have any hardships in life as well. Just know that you are loved, and I love you <3.

Sincerely, Brails.

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #rafayel sfw #rafayel angst

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sanest-bsd-delegate · 11 days

Text

──SOULMATE [Part-1]

⪩oneshot: Soulmates are meant to be with each other, even if death do them apart.

⪩pairing: Dazai x reader

⪩a/n: soulmate au where the soulmate will feel other's pain in form of flowers blooming in the hurt area

Nothing seemed to make Dazai happy. Sure the fake mask of his personality he wore everyday could deceive others, he could fool everyone but himself, and maybe his soulmate too. Dazai viewed it like a curse. Soulmates shouldn't exist in the first place. He couldn't help but empathize and feel sad for his soulmate, for every suicidal tactic he survived, his soulmate will be somewhere, getting hurt or injured by the flowers and thorns that grew. And yet, with no sign of revenge, his soulmate never sent him a flower when he sent a bouquet of them. Human mind is weird. Should he be happy about it? He didn't knew.

You were tired. You were so tired of this life, this soulmate link that existed between you and your soulmate. Whatever his job was, how could he be so reckless. At first, you thought maybe he is still in his teen spirit dirtbag era, but it wasn't the case. For every flower that bloomed on your skin left the scars of the openings. It pained a lot at first, but you got used to it. You wanted to end this connection. It was tiring for you. As you would sob about how tough your life get, another flower would bloom open in your arms, like a lover sending his love a bouquet of flowers. You would smile a little, maybe you weren't alone in the sufferings of this world, maybe your soulmate is too, and maybe, just maybe you both could fill the emptiness in your heart with each other.

You were walking on the street returning from your job when suddenly a sharp throbbing pain arises in your forehead. Did you forget to take your medicine? Is it because of you using your phone? Are you getting heartburn? What ever the reason was, it pained so much, it felt like someone wants to burst your head open with all the forces they got. You drop on your knees, holding the pain, it hurts so much, and you didn't even know what was the cause of that. People surrounded you, calling for an ambulance, and shifting you to a hospital. The last thing you remembered were the shocking faces of people and the concerned medical team trying to talk to you. And then, you lost consciousness.

Dazai was devastated, how could chuuya shoot his head thrice? "CHUUYAAA HOW COULD YOUUUU" Dazai whined, forgetting that his soulmate existed somewhere. Maybe he was selfish, maybe people would call him a person who lacked feelings, but did it matter when the world's fate was in his hands? Chuuya did nothing but shake his head in disapproval, as both of them were on their way to walk out of the prision. Dazai whistled led all his way walking, annoying chuuya every second he got. "Can you stop being annoying?" "Come on shorthat, we have been doing this since the long time" Dazai replied, his arm around Chuuya's shoulder as they walk, "Cant believe i still have to bend my knees to get to your height".

A brief moment of silence passed when Dazai wined in pain….No it wasn't the usual physical pain he felt for the first time, it was something intense and deep, an emotion he had never felt before….it felt like his soul would ripe apart if he breathe any longer and then he felt numb.

"Are you going to just stand still? we have the world to save you know?" Chuuya remarked, rolling his eyes as he opens the door stepping outside for others to see that infact they were alive. Dazai does nothing but remained silent at his remark, before walking out the door. Suddenly he felt something on his forehead, it was a withered leaf, sticking on his forehead. Maybe it came with the wind, yeah maybe.

His soulmate had died and it was way to long gone before he could have realized.

TAGLIST: @averagehisoilluenjoyer @high-on-dazai @ruru-kiss @kissesmellow21 @just2normalperson

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#bsd x reader #bsd #bsd fluff #bungou stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungou sd #drabbles #requests to sbd #bsd dazai #dazai #bungo stray dogs dazai #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #bsd manga

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bettyfrommars · 10 months

Note

I need to know what you think about finding a dark siren Eddie Munson. Maybe he got hurt and washed up on the shore? You’re immediately his mate and he loves you very much even though he’s never been near a human. Very much I hate everyone but you vibes for our bloodthirsty friend.

Boyfriend From the Deep

darkSiren!Eddie x Reader

darkSiren!Eddie art here and here

18+ONLY, smut, some monsterfuqqing, mention of gore, mention of throwing up, visit from Murray & Hopper, mention of reader's life not going well, AFAB Reader, love at first sight, soulmates, merman!Eddie. wc: 3k

A/N: Another request I was really excited to sink my teeth into. My hope is to continue this eventually, taking inspiration from the 1984 film Splash. Looking forward to what y'all think of darkSiren!Eddie, thank you for indulging me.

---------

Eddie choked and coughed as the wave crashed over him, forcing his eyes open with a gargled gasp. He was pinned up against a rocky ledge, half of his body on the sand and the other half in the frigid water. All of a sudden, he felt sick, and began retching clear bile into the sea. He didn’t like breathing the air, he wasn’t used to it, and it caught in his throat like a feather��tickling—until he coughed and retched again. The gills on the sides of his neck sputtered, flapping open like vents, drying out, trying to conform to the new way of breathing.

It was then that he became aware of the dull ache at the back of his head, and with trembling fingers, he reached back to test the spot with a cringe and a hiss. He checked to find that his fingertips were bloody; he must’ve knocked his head on one of the sharp rocks during the transformation. How badly was he wounded? Would be a shame to survive the journey to human form only to die on the beach and rot like a bloated fish.

He braced his hand, fingers digging into the sand, and flicked his hips to swish his tail to get him unstuck, but then two legs kicked out from his hips, stuck in a fisherman’s net, and it startled him, making him slam his head into the rock again. He winced, eyes squeezing shut, whimpering a bit at the sting of the impact as the saltwater splashed up to his knees and misted his face.

This was Eddie’s first time back to land in over a decade. Mostly because he loathed humans. He loved to lure them to their deaths, he loved to watch from under the water as their ships sank so that he could feed on their fear, curling the sound waves of their screams into his belly like sweet nectar.

He twisted, trying to be free of the rough ropes that cut into his skin, but he was weak, and he wasn’t sure how much blood he’d lost. He was stuck there now, for 7 days and 7 nights, and he thought maybe he’d just find a way to stay hidden…

….until he saw you.

It was rare for you to be up at the crack of dawn, unless it was due to the fact that you hadn’t slept at all, which was a regular occurrence. Long, restful sleeps that lasted hours were just a myth to you, ever since you’d watched your life go down the toilet. A breakup, a death in the family, getting fired from your job; all of it happened all at once, and you were still reeling, teetering at the edge of the abyss.

You were all alone in the world, but for your dog, Louie, and the modest cottage you were renting for a week off the Oregon coast. The beach house was tucked back in the woods, and it didn’t even have a TV, so flipping it on to watch the early morning broadcast or some cartoons to relax your brain was not an option. The radio would have to do, and the first song that came on when you flipped the dial was Brandy by Looking Glass. You hummed along to it as you plucked Louie’s leash off the sofa and attached it to his collar. He was a medium, handsome, mixed-breed boy that you’d rescued from the side of the road as a puppy. Part corgi, part border collie, part…dalmatian? You weren’t entirely sure.

“He came on a summer's day

Bringin' gifts from far away

But he made it clear he couldn't stay

No harbor was his home

The sailor said, ‘Brandy, you're a fine girl

What a good wife you would be

But my life, my love, and my lady is the sea”

It was exceptionally chilly for an August morning, making you bundle in a hoodie and boots for the trek out to the beach. Louie was practically foaming at the mouth to get out there for his run, and since your area of the beach was fairly secluded at that time of morning, you unhooked his leash where the dirt path met with the sand, and he bolted into the fog toward the ocean like a shot. There was a wet mist lingering in the air, like salty, seaweed-scented kisses that made you squint against the bright gray hues turning blue with the rise of the sun. A few seagulls squawked and swooshed overhead, diving down to perch on a large piece of driftwood, and you waved to them, as if they’d showed up just to say hello to you.

You faced the vast expanse of ocean and crashing waves with a mix of awe and defiance, challenging it silently with a lift of your chin. Your reverie was rudely interrupted by Louie’s alarm bark, somewhere deep in the mist.

You followed the sound, walking blind until you caught sight of the jutting rocks at the base of a cliff, and the shrill of Louie’s distress signal was getting further away. Your feet picked up speed, stumbling for purchase in the soft, wet ground as you called for him, a bit of panic stroking your heart. Why did it feel like you were about to start crying? An avalanche of unfelt emotions gathered in your throat as you called for your loyal companion.

But there he was, finally, sitting facing the rocks, tail wagging side to side, making a fan-shape in the sand, basically ignoring you as you collapsed to one knee, cursing, clutching your chest.

You mumbled a whole conversation to him as you snapped the leash back in place and got to your feet. You tried to guide him in the other direction, but Louie was transfixed on something a few yards ahead, and it took your eyes a moment to adjust—but then you saw it. A hand, slightly webbed between the fingers, appeared from around the black rock, digging into the sand, and then another hand gripped the tan earth further along, as if someone were trying to pull themself along by their arm strength alone. The wrists were covered in jewelry that looked like they were made of shell and bone; the forearms tattooed in dotted, swirling black ink patterns.

You were too stunned to scream, mouth hanging agape. You urged Louie back to shield him with your legs. You saw the long, dark hair next, pooling over bare, tattooed shoulders; it was messy and unkempt, littered in bits of fauna and a few empty clam shells, one side matted with blood.

Before your brain could throw the alarm that this might be dangerous, you were already speaking. “A-are you alright? Do you need me to get help?”

That was when his head snapped up, and wide, all-white eyes regarded you with malice, lips curling back to expose a mouth full of pointed teeth. He growled at you, and Louie growled back, but then, after a second, the monster's face softened. The milk white eyes behind tendrils of hair shifted to brown, human irises, and he cocked his head a few times at you, as if trying to understand what you had just said.

You should have fainted.

You should have turned and run screaming in the other direction.

But, for some reason, neither one of those even occurred to you.

You came around to get a better look at him, down along where the water lapped at your boots, and took in the rest of his body; he was tangled up in a crude net from the waist down. He wore a necklace that appeared to be made of intricate fish bones and coral, and shark tooth earring dangled from his ear. The tattoo patterns ran all along his chest, stomach, and legs. You released Louie’s leash, and he sat right where he was told, while you crouched down to meet Eddie’s curious gaze that never strayed from you.

“Will you let me help you?” You asked.

Eddie was in love.

He never believed the stories he’d been told about the imprinting and immediate bonding that happened when you met your mate. He wasn’t just any Merman, he was a Siren, and as a soldier of the dark forces of the sea, he figured he didn’t have time for frivolous things like romance.

But this took no time at all.

You were meant to be his, and he didn’t care who he had to kill to keep you.

He studied your face as you worked to free the wet knot of seaweed tangles on the net, freeing his thighs from the heavyweight, gasping and averting your eyes at the way your touch made his cock twitch and swell. You helped him to sit up, noticing what appeared to be gills on his throat and sides along his ribs. His flesh was similar to that of a human, but also not. It had a thick, rippled texture, like the belly of a snake, and it seemed to glow with a soft blue fluorescence. His muscles were tight and lean, and he didn’t even bother to shiver as a cold wind made your teeth chatter.

You told him your name as another seagull cawed overhead, and asked what you should call him.

His eyebrows clenched together, tilting his head a few times, watching your mouth as you spoke.

“Do you speak English?” You asked it in a cringe way, with a loud voice, as if a higher volume could break any language barrier.

He brought his webbed hand up to touch your face, and you jerked away at first, but then you let his scaled knuckles graze your cheek, the legs of your jeans soaking wet now as you knelt there with what could only be described as a figment of your imagination.

He spoke a word in foreign language, his voice a deep whisper. You remembered how solid white his eyes had been before when he thought you were a threat, but now they were honey brown, almost cat-like in nature as they softly adored you.

“I-I don’t understand,” you breathed, unable to comprehend the time it took for his mouth to find yours, to plant wholesome kisses, to taste you.

You might’ve been in love with him at that moment too, but your jaded heart refused to let yourself believe it.

You did, however, feel the arousal blossom at your core as his tongue fluttered against yours, whimpering with a little click in his throat like a sea lion at the way you returned his kiss.

The urge to mate you, to officially make you his, was too strong for Eddie to take into regard any of the formalities of courtship. Once your hand found his generous girth and began to stroke, encouragingly, that was all it took.

You skittered backwards up onto the semi-dry sand, unzipping your jeans and pushing them down to your ankles as you went, and Eddie followed, bracing himself on top so he wouldn’t crush you, desperate to find your mouth again. His powerful hips bucked against you, and you held him by the neck, begging for more while he spoke to you in that foreign tongue, staring into your eyes, willing you to understand him.

Wanting you to know that no one would ever love you as much as he did; that he would be your one and only mate until the darkness took you both.

The position felt awkward, but there was no time to take your boots off as your hole clenched the air, desperate to be filled. You spun around to get on your hands and knees, and Eddie buried his cock balls deep in your wet heat with one swish of his muscular thighs, throwing his head back in a bark of triumph.

You pushed back against him, needing him to move, to stretch you and own you with each push, your fingers clawing into the sand as you whined.

Nearby, Louie cocked his head and tried to lift one floppy ear, but then he turned his face to the sea, trying to give you some privacy.

You’d never been fucked by someone as strong as this sea monster, and your whole body jerked and vibrated under the impact of his deep thrusts. “Yesyesyes…oh fuck!”

It wasn’t long before Eddie clapped his pelvis flush to your ass and spilled inside of you, chanting foreign words, tilting his head to the sky, worshiping you with his offering. He stayed locked there for a while, working his seed deeper with every stroke. When he was done, he flipped you over with a feral urgency that sent sand into your eyes and nose, but you didn’t care, because now his mouth was on you.

Your fingers sank into his matted hair, and that was when you felt the viscous patch and remembered he was bleeding. His big, strong legs were a bit wobbly, and the thought occurred to you, for whatever reason, that he wasn’t accustomed to using them.

But then Louie was barking in the other direction, and you both turned your attention to see a figure appearing from out of the mist. A middle-aged man in a pageboy cap and a trench coat; he was already too close before you knew he was there, and he dropped the walking stick in his hand, his face frozen in shock and terror.

Eddie smelled the foul human approaching and the familiar bloodlust roared in his veins. The fin on Eddie’s back bristled as he rose to a crouch with a ferocious growl. You shuffled as far as you could against the rock, trying to pull your jeans up and cover yourself, not sure what to think of Eddie’s reaction.

Eddie bared his mouth full of sharp teeth in a sneer at the man, his eyes going completely white again. A storm seemed to hit the beach all of a sudden at Eddie’s command, dropping down a gust of wind that rocked the waves and sent the man stumbling off his feet as if the world tilted on its axis, trying to hold his hat on against the force of it. A low, rumbling wail came from somewhere deep in Eddie’s chest as you tried to shield your face from the whips of sand stabbing like tiny daggers in your flesh. Eddie appeared to be sucking the life out of the man from his distance; the human’s body lifted up in the air and bent back. You thought you heard something crack.

It was only a matter of seconds before the man crumpled to the ground, unresponsive, and then Eddie settled, and so did the air around him. After a few heartbeats, there were only the crashing waves and the birds once again, and Eddie’s head snapped to you, searching, making sure you were okay.

He held his arms out and you scrambled over, burying your head in the crook of his neck, letting him cage you, letting him have you.

Louie went over to sniff around at the man on the ground, wondering if he had any treats, and then he lifted his leg and let go of a stream of urine onto his shoe.

—-----

Murray Bauman slammed the paper onto Hopper’s desk, forcing a gust of wind into his face and a couple of yellow sticky notes to go flying.

Murray waited, hands on his hips, the door to the office wide open behind him. Hopper took a deep inhale and flicked a few bored glances from the cover of the Seaside Review back up to Murray’s severe expression.

“Is this your way of telling me you're taking a vacation?” He guessed, shifting back in his squeaky chair.

“This,” Murray jabbed his finger in the direction of the paper. “Is what I’ve been trying to tell you about.”

In the mood to humor his old friend, Hopper bent forward, furrowing his brow, taking a closer look at the headlines.

Murray continued, pacing in front of the desk as he did so. “Merpeople don’t exist? Well then, explain that to me.”

To the right, at the top of a long column and a sketch, was the headline: Reclusive artist survives a Siren attack on the beach and lives to tell: Merfolk exist.

Hopper cleared his throat. “This is a drawing, Murray.”

Murray stopped his pacing, inclining his head, adopting a sarcastic tone. “Notice anything familiar about that likeness, Jim? Does any part of it ring a bell? The white eyes, maybe? The teeth?”

“Sure,” Hopper picked the paper up and plopped it down, further away from him. “It looks like Elvis. Call The Inquirer.”

Murray flopped in a chair facing the Chief’s desk with a huff. He’d keep talking about it even if it fell on deaf ears because he knew he was right. “The migration of the Sirens. Enki, Poseidon, Amphitrite, the legend of the skin-shedding Merfolk who can walk on land for 7 days during a blood moon. Humanoids. Cannibals of the sea—-”

“Stop,” Hopper put his hand up palm out. “Just, stop. Is any of this supposed to make any sense to me? Why are you here? What have I done to deserve this?”

Murray rested his elbows on the arms of the chair, intertwining his fingers. “The drawing should look familiar to you, Jim, because it’s just like the one I saw when I was a teenager, and three summers ago when I was on that death-trap Alaskan cruise. I told you all about it. I told you that I was—-”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hopper interrupted. “But again, I’ll ask—why are you coming to me with this? You think I’m going to arrest a fish?”

Murray rounded his shoulders. "I know that Sirens exist, Jim. There’s more than enough evidence out there, and I’m going to prove it to you, if not the world.”

#Eddie Munson #Eddie Munson fic #darkSiren!Eddie #merman!Eddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #Eddie Munson fanfiction #monster fucking #monsterfucker #monster smut #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x reader

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jenosbliss · 13 days

Note

Hi, can I req for jaemin enemies to lovers with 4, 16 & 23?

pairing. fem!reader x enemy!jaemin | genre. fluff | wc. 2k | warnings. none

a/n. i’ve idea for a part 2 , will probably post it after sometime

‘Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.’ I once read in a book which I regretted reading afterwards but again in another book I read ‘Hating someone feels disturbingly similar to being in love with them.’ The book which goes by the name The Hating Game.

I would have loved that book if it wasn’t an enemies to lovers trope, the only form of romance I dislike the most. Enemies-to-lovers is something which could not exist in real life, you can never fall in love with your enemy, someone you hate from the bottom of your heart. At least I can’t with Na Jaemin .

Not that I want to fall in love with him —it’s even scarier than my worst nightmare— but even thinking about loving or liking that jerk makes me want to throw up.

Yes, you can also say that it’s all just in my head how my friends remind me everyday and who so happily enjoy watching our bickering, our death glares at each other, our hatred for each other. They are living in the daily soap they spend hours watching because only both of us can see the anger and hatred dripping from our eyes.

Even friendship can’t exist between us, jokes on me to even think of friendship when we can’t stand each other if we are in the same room, as snarky comments and death glares fly across the room. No one can stand us together to be honest.

Why do I hate him? I don’t know when my hatred for him even started, maybe it was hate at first sight. Such a self-absorbed, cocksure, smug, stubborn jerk he is. The way he walks, the way he talks, the way he smiles, the way he looks —he’s handsome almost like a Greek God, but I’m not going to accept it— just his whole existence pisses me off. Also not like he ever gave me a reason to change the way I felt for him cause he reciprocates my feelings, if not more.

“I’m not sharing the room with him.” Trying my best to tone my voice down I yelled at my friend who was allotting the rooms. “Y/n try to understand please, we don’t have any more rooms left.” She pleaded, pulling me inside her room.

When my friends asked me if I wanted to be a part of this two-day holiday to the beach, never had I imagined that when I would enter the room of the hotel we’re staying for the weekend I would find him sprawled –like a starfish– on the bed, the bed I was supposed to spend the night peacefully on!

“But you know I can’t stand him even for a second! No, change his room.” huffing, I crossed my arms around my chest. “But all the other rooms are occupied y/n, you came late so…” she trailed off, fueling my anger even more. “I didn’t turn up late on purpose! I had informed you beforehand that I’ll be late!” Looking behind her I saw a figure coming out of the bathroom.

“Maybe your boyfriend, who happens to be his friend” rolling my eyes I continued “can switch the room with me?” That’s the most I can give in, I’m ready to switch the rooms which should’ve been him instead. “C’mon Y/N! I understand the tension between you two is as high as Mount Everest…” gasping dramatically I passed her an offensive look, there was no tension between us, it was just hate.

Ignoring me she continued “… but everyone has needs and I have a life too, I want to spend some time with my boyfriend. So will you please let us? It’s just a matter of tonight. We’ll sort something out tomorrow. It's already past 2, go sleep.” Even before she finished her short monologue I was pushed out of the room with a large wooden door slammed shut in my face.

Was she for real? If she planned this whole trip just to fuck her boyfriend she didn’t have to ask me! Why make my already not so good life even worse? Stomping my way aggressively to the room I grabbed my head in frustration.

“It’s just for a night, you can do it y/n. Calm down. Relax.” Taking a deep breath I tried to prepare myself, “Or you always have a second option if things go out of your hands, killing” A little voice inside my head said. It’s not like this voice has appeared for the first time. Last week when he “accidentally” spilled his iced tea on me, I was about to throw the chair I was sitting on his face. This voice appeared that time too. “I don’t wanna go to jail because of such a useless human.” I thought.

“You know it’s better to sleep than making plans to kill me and I’m not useless.” The door opened to reveal him with an utterly idiotic smirk. Can he read minds too? Okay I’m in trouble then, no I didn’t think anything for which you should smirk too but all my plans of tricking him will be known.

“Are you a stalker or what?” Pushing him away I entered the room, which was supposed to be mine. “No darling, your footsteps can be heard around ten miles from here. I just happen to have great hearing skills.” He whispered the last part.

I could have replied, I could have continued this which would soon turn into bickering but I was too tired for that, I just wanted to sleep peacefully, ironically peace and Na Jaemin don’t come together. So let me change my statement, I just wanted to sleep at any cost.

“Here, take the pillow, sleep on the couch.” Throwing the fluffy white material filled with soft feathers at him, I started unpacking my bag to take out my night clothes. “And why should I listen to you?” He plopped down on the bed, stretching out. “Jaemin, right now I’m not in the mood to argue.” Raising my hand, I shook my head.

“Neither am I, but I’m as stubborn as you. Which means I am not sleeping on the couch.” Closing my bag I faced him, as stubborn as me? It’s not a good start, it can never be with him. “Why are you like this?” Scowling, I moved to the bathroom. “Why are you like this?” He mimicked. God, save this guy from me.

Coming back to the room after changing my clothes I saw him still lying on the bed, scrolling through his phone. Rolling my eyes out of annoyance I walked up to my side of the bed and started putting the spare pillows and cushions between us. “Is this really necessary?” Sparing a glance at what I was doing he asked.

“Very much necessary, I don’t want to wake up with your limbs around me in the morning.” Even the thought of it disgusted me. “But this is eating up too much space.” He complained. “Better than you eating me-” Realising how wrong that must have sounded I looked at him, who had that mischievous smirk which made me furious. “That one sounds better.” He lied back down.

“Shut that mouth of yours and sleep.” Switching off the lights I faced the other direction. “It's hot when you talk back, princess.” He teased, I hate these nicknames so much!

I shouldn’t have come on this trip, everything about it was wrong. First, sharing the room with Jaemin , almost fighting with my friend and the worst of all coming even though I twisted my ankle –the sole reason I was late– to the hotel. My left ankle felt as if someone was slowly cutting it off with a sharp axe, it’s so painful!

Groaning, I shifted to the other side, trying to get in a comfortable position to fall asleep, forgetting about the man next to me. “Are you uncomfortable?” A husky voice made my eyes shoot open to find the sleepy ones of Jaemin already on me. “What do you expect when you’re lying next to me?” Scoffing, he shifted closer much to my dismay.

“Look I know your ankle hurts cause Junhee told me you’re at the hospital getting your ankle treated so don’t try to pull up an act.” Taken aback by his interest in me –I know she’ll never tell him about my whereabouts until he asks– I questioned further. “Why did you ask her about me?” How dumb of me to raise an eyebrow as if he would see it.

For the first time in the three years I have known him he stuttered when talking to me, was he that taken aback by my question? Omg y/n don’t forget to write it in your diary. “H-huh? I- I…” he cleared his throat “I thought I was using this room alone when Junhee came and asked if you could stay in this room too as you were late and there weren’t any spare rooms left… so I asked why you were late…” this sounds convincing, not very much but it does.

“Oooh. By the way, what about your girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be on this trip with her and the one you should be sharing the room with?” I smirked. My eyes were begging me to sleep but my brain forced me to put up this question. “We broke up a year ago.” He deadpanned as I facepalmed myself mentally. What a stupid question!

“So you haven’t dated for a year?” I gasped genuinely shocked. “Yes.” Wait really, the OH SO GODLY Jaemin hasn’t dated anyone FOR A YEAR!! “Not even a fling?” I was about to get up but the stinging pain in my ankle pulled me back. “You own my heart” he said, was it my heart skipping a beat? No y/n don’t be fooled by him! “C’mon tell me.” Slapping lightly on his arm I whined.“No. Not even a fling.” He repeated. “Woah, wow! I mean it’s surprising.” It was surprising, at least to me. “Is it? Because I thought you knew the girl very well I’m interested in so I don’t think it should surprise you.” He whispered. Wait what?

Leaning his head on his elbow he stared in my eyes, even though it was dark –nothing could be seen as there was very little light coming from the curtained window– but his eyes shone in this darkness, as if they were the only source of light in this dark room, as if they are the most beautiful pair of eyes to ever exist, as if I could stare at them forever, as if I could drown in th-

‘What the hell are you thinking y/n!? You hate him, you can’t like him! He’s your enemy’ the same voice from before alarmed me, it was right, he’s my enemy…

“Did you take painkillers?” He questioned, eyes not leaving mine. “Yes, after dinner I did.” Neither did I break the gaze. “Then we can try this.” With this said he stood up, took two pillows –which were used to limit our respective bed spaces ‘by me’– and placed one of the pillows under my leg which had been aching and the other beside it as if securing my ankle.

“I hope it’s better than before.” His eyes creased, hinting the smile on his lips. “It is, thank you.” mumbling, I closed my eyes shut not wanting to let my thoughts move freely. ``Sleep y/n, you just need to sleep.’

“Sleep well y/n and don’t worry I won’t throw my limbs on top of you.” the mattress next to me dipped inwards, he had lied down, probably facing the other side I hope. Opening my eyes I looked at his face, so close to me… I really hate this guy.

I hate him because firstly he didn’t face the other side, secondly he made me feel all these weird things for him and thirdly, he didn’t keep his promise. After he had fallen asleep and probably I was too I felt his arms curling around my torso as he shifted closer to me.

I even heard him mumbling something along the lines of "It's time to stop lying to ourselves." Maybe I was dreaming, maybe not but I couldn’t care less right now because he felt warm, and I liked that warmth. Maybe he isn’t that bad, maybe I shouldn’t hate him this much.

navigwation.

nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 follower event 🌷

#nct dream #nct dream fluff #jaemin #nct dream x reader #jaemin imagines #jaemin fluff #jaemin x reader #nct fluff #nct #nct fics #nct imagines #nct jaemin #jaemin scenarios #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #enemies to lovers #na jaemin

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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 4 months

Text

My tears ricochet

Previous chapter

summary: There are thunder clouds in the horizon that threaten Eris’s chance of being a high lord. Rhys strikes a deal. The only thing left to find out now is who gets out of this deal alive?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You have been watching the flames dance in the fireplace ever since. Blazing right in front of you. It felt as if it was a theater, and this was just a performance. One that had struck you to your core. Or maybe one that you had seen so many times that you had grown numb to it. The shouts? You no longer heard them. Turning them all out into the background noise. Making sure that all of it would blend into one unidentifiable mush.

“I will cut your eyes out," Mor howled as she trashed in Azriel’s unmoving hands. His arms too meet the anger seeping through her. Sharp nails dug right into his flesh as she hissed at her cousin, “Let go of me or else...", “Calm down, Mor." Azriel tried to reason for what felt like one hundred times that night. You could tell that he was frustrated. The spymaster simply hated showcasing his emotions. Reading him was impossible most of the time. Yet you saw the way he had glanced at Cassian even back in Autumn. A look alone clearly showed that the two were just as clueless.

“How can you just sit here?", Mor shoved at Azriel, her eyes now finding another victim. Cassian. Who had practically folded into the chair the moment everyone had returned. You had always been close. At times, you even thought that he was more your brother than Rhys himself. So his slightly shaken form didn’t surprise you all that much. “He will not agree," Rhys muttered, rubbing his hand over his face. Mor stopped for a moment before her hands found the roots of her perfectly wavy blond hair that had long lost the natural curl from all the pulling. “Have you hit your head or something?", she chuckled in disbelief. “I think it’s the or something part because, what the fuck, Rhys?", Cassian growled for the first time, his hands gripping the armrest of the chair.

“Do you trust me?", Rhys looked through the room, trying to capture everyone’s eyes, even for a second. He was hoping to pour out his hopes. Ideas. Something into his family. "No," everyone hissed in unison, making the high lord shake his head. “I couldn’t say anything because it would have ruined it", Rhys tried to justify his actions once more, only to be cut off by Mor, who once again had launched forward. “At the cost of YN?" she growled right as Azriel caught her mid-jump.

You let out a sigh. And for the first time that evening, everyone turned to you. The person all of this affected directly. “Why aren’t you saying anything?", Mor muttered angrily, “Say something?”. You knew that her intentions were good. Mother strike. You had sat with her and bandaged her wounds when she was brought back from the border. You had turned into her shadow. She had quickly become more than a cousin. She was a sister. In a way, filling up the role of your older sister. One that cruelly got taken from you.

“Can I go?", you muttered. Staring right ahead. Too tired to look at every one. To watch their faces. Their emotions. “I’m tired," it was barely a whisper as you pushed your chair back. You felt their eyes on you. And only now did you understood that they had no idea what was set into motion. “My darling," Rhys muttered, but you only gripped the note that had sat in your palm for the entirety of this circus that had been happening. "I will meet you at breakfast," you muttered, “Have a calm night.”

Eris didn’t sleep at all that night. While he had spent the nights after his father’s death cooped up in his chambers, tonight he couldn’t stand the idea of being anywhere near that house. It held too much power over him. Too many memories of pain and suffering still lingered. He could swear that parts of Beron still lingered there, and while on other nights Eris could battle that, tonight wasn’t that night.

The two dogs stiffened by Eris’s legs. Low growls filling the silent forests. But the high lord didn’t open his eyes. Simply scratching the hound's ears - a clear sign that they didn’t have to worry about anything. Because he wasn’t worried about anything. “You look like shit," A little smile crept onto Eris’s face as your voice echoed. Followed by the rustling leaves beneath your feet. “Thank you; I can only say the same about you," he mustered teasingly. “Your eyes are closed, asshole," you huffed, stepping from beneath the branches to fully come face-to-face with him.

“Did you read through it?", with the question, Eris’s eyes snapped open, piercing right through you, even in the dark. You simply nodded your head. You had just gotten back and were angrily undoing your corset when a piece of paper fell out. Your initial thought was to ignore it. That was most likely just a grocery list you had forgotten on your venture earlier in the day. But the more you looked at the brown paper, the more you felt the urge to look at what was written on it.

“Thoughts?", Eris crossed his arms over his chest. Assessing your every move. Every reaction. This too, in a way, was a test. One of his own. "Diabolical," you smiled at him before shaking your head, “Want me to keep going?”. Eris only rolled his eyes, his hand coming up to rub at his chest. "Fine," he shrugged. But that fine stirred something deep within you. It wasn’t all that simple. And the answer wasn’t easy to give out. Especially to a man like Eris.

“You can be executed for shit like this," you tapped at your temple, letting the tiredness of today sink in finally. Or maybe it was the fresh autumn breeze that practically screamed for a cozy blanket and a nap. Not a midnight meetings. “Oh, would you look at that?", Eris muttered, clearing his throat with a cough that he tried to hide. “You care about me, little bird?" he asked, moving his eyebrows suggestively. “Get over yourself," you huffed, reaching out for the black pup that had been nudging your leg all this time. “I would be the first to claim your head.", you threw Eris your best angel smile, making the high lord laugh. “And hang it in your room so you could look at me," he whistled in delight. “More like shoot arrows at," you cut in quickly to correct him”, before adding, “We do it my way."

Eris shook his head immediately, “We won't." You shot him a daring look, but Eris didn’t seem phased by it. “Then no," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "Y/n," Eris growled. "Eris," you mimicked his tone in return. “Compromise? Have you ever heard that word woman?", he huffed angrily, rubbing his temples in frustration. “Not when it comes to you," you chirped back.

“You are so fucking..." he had started to say as another cough slipped past his lips. “Lovely, I know," you finished happily, but Eris didn’t return your smile. He turned back as another cough made his shoulders seize. A strange feeling ran right through you. Watching him lean against the tree... "Eris," you called out, not sure what was happening. He raised a dismissive hand, but you weren’t about to leave him like this.

"Eris," you muttered, stepping past the two whimpering hounds that suddenly, truthfully, looked like two terrified puppies. “Hey, what’s going on?", your hand touched his shoulder. It felt as if he was on fire. And not in the autumn male way. It felt as if he was burning from within. "Eris," you hissed, pulling your hand away quickly. He turned his head slightly, his fingers coming up to dig at his throat. "Can't," he mouthed. Your heart instantly skipped a beat. An unknown panic filling your body.

“Let me," you breathed, your cold palms reaching out to rest on Eris’s chest, slowly letting your cold magic seep into his burning flesh. “Come on," you muttered, no longer sure if their words were directed at you or Eris. You stood like that for a couple of hearts only. Yet it felt like two heartbeats were too long. Because Eris never lost control. He was one of the males who knew how to carry himself.

“What was that?", you muttered once Eris’s heartbeat evened out. The high lord tilted his head towards the starry night, letting out a deep sigh, "nothing." You huffed at his unbothered tone. "Nothing, my ass! You were choking," you huffed, pulling back, nearly tripping over the dogs, eagerly waving their tails now. “It’s nothing," Eris claimed once more. You watched as he slowly moved his head in circles, followed by his shoulders and hands. As if stretching. As if he had now filled out his own body. I was uncertain as to where the limits lay. “Eris Vanserra", your warning tone made Eris finally look up at you. You could see him contemplating his words for a moment. His eyes drilled into you as he no doubt ran through the worst scenarios. “The magic hasn’t settled yet," he said so casually, yet it pretty much knocked all oxygen out of your system.

"What?" you muttered in disbelief. There’s no way because... “I'm not fully in control," Eris admitted as he flexed his fingers. “I know what that means." You frowned, “It’s just... they can kill you," you whispered, but Eris didn’t seem to worry about it that much considering that his laughter filled the space between you two.

“The joy you must feel," he chuckled, reaching out for his hounds. “Don’t joke about it," you frowned. Hate it or not. Death was not something you would wish for anyone. Even if that person was Eris, "Careful, I might start to think that you care." His blazing eyes found yours, taking you off guard for a moment. “Get over yourself, Vanserra," you rolled your eyes, gathering your skirts up as you turned back from him.

You had barely made it down the stairs the next morning when someone caught your hand, pulling you through the door of the closet study. “I have a plan," Mor muttered breathlessly. The dark circle under her eyes was a clear evidence of her sleepless night. "Mor...", you muttered. Rhys had called you into a meeting that same morning, but you had chosen to ignore his offer. You didn’t want to miss the sunset, and the river bank was way more to your liking than your brother’s office. “No, listen to me," she said, grasping both of your hands. “We will hide you. We’ll get one of the high lords involved”. She rambled on, but you quickly shook your head, “Did you talk to someone outside our family about this?" A slight panic ticked deep within you. She looked up at you in confusion but quickly shook her head in response, “Good, Mor, no one can know about this." Now it was you who had pulled her closer. “Do you understand?", “This is bullshit," she huffed, pulling away from you.

"Mor," you pleaded, but her distress was way too strong by now. “You can’t go. I won’t let you go”, she continued her rant, pacing the room. "Sweetie," you said, moving in front of your cousin, taking her hands in yours. “You’ve seen the scars. You’ve seen...", she muttered, her eyes slowly filling up with burning tears. You reached up to cup her cheek. Offering her a soft smile because no words were going to make this any better. “That man has no soul; Satin has nothing against him," Mor hissed through gritted teeth, right as you wiped the angry tear away from her cheek. “Maybe he hasn’t met Satin yet”, you muttered under your breath, resting your forehead against hers.

“What about the borders? There have been breaches”, the booming voice sent shooting pain through Eris’s scull. It had been the fourth meeting that day, and if his patience was thin in the morning, now the male could barely find any fragments of it. “I already sent out another handful of soldiers to monitor the outskirts," he said, trying to keep his cool. His people deserved better. Way better than what his father had given them. Autumn could be a court like the others. Not full of scum and drunken lords.

“When will the payments roll in?", another angry tone echoed through the hall, and Eris all of a sudden regretted offering the merchants to join the meeting. “I’m looking through the scrolls," Eris said through gritted teeth. Yes, he had stopped the money flow because, with his father’s death, a lot of the men who had drained this place to the last drop had planned on running away with their pockets full of coins. “People are starving," another claimed. “Beron would have sorted it out by now," someone added which had Eris frozen in an instant. Eyes scanning the crowd till they land on the male who had just slipped up. The high lord pushed his chair back, clapping his hands on the table. "You," he pointed an angry finger at the order farmer, “Who do you think you are?" The anger deep within Eris bubbled. Why was it so fucking hard to earn respect? Why did every move he made meet with so much resistance and always mention that monster?

"I...", the male muttered. "I... I… crapped your pants already?", Eris clipped. “I’m your high lord, and you yap at me like I’m nothing," his voice echoed now. Drowning out the crowd of people who had gone dead silent. His anger flared, fires burning so brightly that the vax started to drip, drip, dripping down onto the floor. “Forgive me, Your Majesty." The male had pulled his hat out, now clenching it right against his chest. “What do you need? Coins?", Eris reached into the side drawer, scooping down a handful of silvers before throwing them at the man. The metal clicking against the stone floor was now the only ringing sound. The old man had been left to stand all alone. Anyone who had been throwing demands alongside him now stood with their heads stooped low at far corners of the room.

“Go ahead, pick it up," Eris gestured to the floor. "Forgive...", the man had started, his face now as white as paper and his legs shaking as he barely found his footing. “Pick. It. Up," every word came out like a growl louder than the one before. The man fell to his knees. A crooked smirk stretched onto Eris’s lips as he reached for his sword, rounding the table. “Please… I have kids and a wife”, the man pleaded. Eyes as big as the moon. “Why not think of them before you speak?", Eris assessed the blade, running his finger along the rim. “I did... We're starving”, the farmer whispered, now almost lying on the floor as he threatened beneath Eris’s cold glance. “Pick up the coins," The high lord’s bitter tone sliced the light sobs.

“Your Highness," the male tried to plead his case once more, but Eris only let out a growl. "Pick…," but his voice died down. As if someone had cut his vocal cords. It felt like a whisper. A cold touch. Most of the candles went out in a cloud of smoke. Suppressing the scolding heat that Eirs had thrown at the hall. Then there were the cold fingers that snaked down his wrists, stilling his hand, ready to strike. Reaching for the blade.

“Let him go." It was barely audible. Eris doubted that anyone besides him heard it. But his whole body. Every fiver within perked up at the sound. “For me," it pleaded, “This is not your way." Bile rose in Eris’s throat. It wasn’t his way. This was his father’s way. His father’s methods. Pain. Suffering. Terror. The oldest Vanserra felt his face seize as fear of that monster rooting within him washed over him.

“Breathe through it," Eris turned back from the man, coming face-to-face with purple eyes staring right up at him. "Out of all of you," you ordered, pulling the blade out of Eris’s hand and pointing it at the gawking crowd. It seemed like no one had to be told twice as people rushed out, pushing one another in the process.

"You," you called out, making the farmer stop in his tracks. The man had barely made it off the floor. The sudden joy of being freed disappeared impatiently at your next words, “Pick up the coins." His bottom lip quivered. "Please," he seemed in his later years. The grays had started to show. Hands cracked, clearly from the long hours in the fields. “There’s no catch," you said softly. You handed the sword back to Eris before stepping to the side. “Pick them to buy food," you crouched, picking the silvers yourself. Reaching for the pouch at the side of your skirt to neatly place them inside, “If there’s none to buy, stop by the kitchen tonight." The farmer's eyes watched you move, too stunned to speak. “There will be food to spare here,” you smiled at him, reaching out to touch his shoulder, “Even better, stop by to eat with us. Bring your family with you."

“But miss...", the male stuttered, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, please. Let this be our way of settling peace. This court deserves it after all the years”, you muttered, watching the msn taking a deep breath and nodding his head at your words. “Thank you. Mother will never forget your kindness, my lady.” Bowing, the farmer reached for your hand, placing a kiss on it. You watched him hurry towards the door with his head bowed low. No doubt, still frightened.

“What the fuck are you doing?", Eris’s rough hands clasped over your shoulder as he turned you over to face him. You simply raised your eyebrow at him, “Saving your ass twice now." His nostrils flared as he tried to suppress the frustration bubbling inside. “You have no word in this house," he growled, moving to step closer. Towering over you. You could feel the heat pouring in waves from him. "Wrong”, you crooked your head back, tapping the tip of his nose, “If you want to play this game, then we are equal in this." His lips thinned into a tight lines. His jaw clenched so firmly that you had no clue how his bone hadn’t cracked. But you enjoyed him like this. Frustrated and bubbling inside. Smirking slightly, you crossed your arms over your chest, "So, Eris Vanserra, are you playing along?”

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Taglist: @hnyclover @slytherintaco @fxckmiup

#eris vanserra x you #eris x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vanserra x reader #acotar imagine #acotar x reader #acotar eris #acotar eris x reader

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frannyzooey · 11 months

Text

Short Days,Long Nights: 10

Joel Miller x f!reader

Rating: Mature (anxiety, pregnancy, grim mentions of childbirth)

Series Masterlist

A/N: thank you endlessly to @the-ginger-hedge-witch for reassuring me that this isn’t a terrible, no good, very bad piece of writing ❤️ and also, I wanna reassure you that despite the emotions in this chapter, my intention has always been a happy ending for these two. Don’t fret. ❤️

—

Something is off.

He treads carefully down the path he’s followed for months, his boots leaving pressed imprints in the soft dirt and his eyes scan for signs of life. His mind is back in the cabin where he left you sleeping, your body curled into a tight ball along the edge of his form left on the sheets, and he tried hard not to wake you, though he didn’t have to be too careful given how tired you’ve been lately.

Sleeping late, turning in early, naps in the middle of the day. You blame the heat, or the boredom, or the way reading makes you drowsy, but even he knows that’s not all it is.

You’ve been distracted, quiet. Drawing into yourself more often these last couple weeks, he tries to recall if he’s said or done anything, to remember if he himself is the cause. It’s been a long time since he cared about what anyone else thought – definitely since he cared enough to want to atone for anything he’s done – but for you, he sifts through his words and actions.

He knows you so well by now. Knows every tell, every minute shift in your mood. More molecular than reading your body language, the air between you shifts and changes when you’re upset, your face betraying nothing to someone who doesn’t know you as well as he does. You’ve been hiding your face more from him lately, because he knows you must know it’s open for him like his is now open for you.

The back of your head facing him in the garden, the peek of your forehead over the top of your book, the way you look at him like you’re about to say something, but when he gives you the space, you look away.

Even at night, you hide your face into the soft crook of his neck to sleep.

He kneels to inspect deer tracks, his fingers brushing aside growth to follow their lead and heading deeper into the forest, the air around him cools under the canopy of trees. The woods are alive with sounds: bird calls, soft chittering, the rustle and slide of leaves, the crunch of his boots as they snap small twigs underfoot.

Amidst it all, he tries to work out the puzzle of you; his bow held loose in his grip.

–

Your hands shaking with nerves as you watch him disappear beyond the treeline, you pull your bottom lip into your mouth with a bite and scold yourself for not telling him about your suspicions this morning.

Or yesterday.

Or the day before that.

You know you could probably keep your secret for at least a couple more months, but there was no point. Everything about surviving here depended on preparing; the sooner, the better, making all the difference between life and death.

Your palms turn clammy, another rush of bile creeping up your sternum as you run out the cabin door before it comes pouring out into the grass and feeling shaky after, you walk over to the rocking chair on the porch and take a seat, letting your head fall forward into your hands.

Being forced to confront the concept of your life ending more times than you would have ever imagined over the last ten years, you’d thought you’d be desensitized to it now… but this was a wholly different type of fear. Not so much the idea that you might actually die while going through with this, (which, over the course of the last few weeks has become a much more terrible, terrifying thought) but more the fear of doing it alone.

Nothing to guide you, no one to help in case something went wrong. You knew that women had been birthing children in their homes for centuries now, many of them in the same exact position you were in – but they had midwives and neighbors who came from afar to help. Other women around them who had gone through it before, advice handed down from generation to generation. Reassurance in the form of knowledge.

You would have someone, you reasoned with yourself, if you told him. Joel has always been there to take care of you, and you know this time wouldn’t be any different, but how much did he know about this? Even if he knew a little, that information was almost three decades old.

Another small part of you felt, even though you know he would never mean to make you feel this way, that you let him down. As if you could stop the science of your body and it betrayed you, or that you compromised this entire setup by foolishly ignoring the consequences of your actions. The last couple weeks a brutal reminder that you have been somewhat romanticizing this possibility, that alone carried its own humiliation.

Now faced with the confirmation of it, you were ashamed. And scared.

This odd mixture of feelings, just like the odd mix of sensations in your body, kept you from saying anything every time you had a chance. He wouldn’t be mad, you knew that, but your hormone addled brain kept conjuring images of his disappointed face and that was almost worse.

You press your fingers into your eyes, liquid warmth seeping through the digits as you think and you let the tears fall, taking deep, shaky inhales.

More than anything, you worried about fracturing the bridge that had been built between the two of you, especially given his past. He already lost one child, what if something happened to this one? His perceived failure almost ruined him the first time; a gaping, ten year wound that tore him apart and ravaged his mind and morals. Only now just beginning to heal, what will this do to him?

The thoughts are circular, never ending.

Will he even want this? Are you unknowingly forcing him into something he’s dreaded? You know he knew the far away consequences of your shared actions, but will he hate you? Will he resent the burden you are? The one you’re carrying, for the rest of his life?

How will you care for it? How will you feed it? Is there enough food prepared for something like this? How will you do this alone? What if it gets sick?

The worries expand and grow, filling your head with a relentless noise that makes you queasy. You think about telling him as soon as he gets back, and a cold sweat breaks along your hairline, running over your limbs.

Getting up, you lean over the railing and purge your nerves onto the ground below.

–

Standing in the kitchen, his back is to you and you take a moment to study the broad width of his shoulders. The dark curls that edge around the nape of his neck, the strength held in his solid frame. Cleaning his gun, he’s recounting his day in the woods to you and you are trying so hard to focus on his words, but you can’t. Not while the worries from this afternoon run rampant in your head, clouding everything.

Still, it’s the image of his back that convinces you to tell him: sturdy, solid, familiar. Those curls are the same you’ve felt in your hands for months: sliding between your fingers as you run through them at night, coiled tightly on the ground before they lifted into the air when you gave him a haircut last week, slicked smooth along his head after a swim.

You hand wash the clothes on that back, massage the tired, thick muscles of it, stroke the tanned, freckled skin in the sunlight. Dig your fingers into the meat of those shoulders, curl your legs around that torso, feel its broadness underneath you when you straddle him.

It’s guided you, carried you, the formidable strength in it has made this place a home, and the reassuring reminder of those things forces you to open your mouth.

“Joel, I –” you start, and he stops talking, turning his ear in your direction.

“Yea?” His attention is still on his task but he slows, and your gut churns with nerves and anxiety and new life. You take a deep breath and focus on his back; the one that you’ve been following for months, before you even knew who he was.

“I’m pregnant.”

He immediately stills, his frame locking up as his hands stop what he’s doing.

When he doesn’t move, you take a hesitant step closer, pushing through the urge to run into your bedroom and hide under the blankets. The air in the room is charged, your heart thundering in your chest and when you take another tiny step closer, he finally speaks.

“You’re sure?” he asks, resting his hands carefully on the edge of the counter.

“Yea,” you reply, letting out a breath and trying to ease the tension. “I mean, no test, obviously, but…”

He nods slowly, absorbing the information.

You stare at the back of his neck, willing him to turn around, but when he doesn’t, shame and embarrassment begin to bloom. Starting in your chest, the emotions take root and your fingers find the bottom of your sleeves and twist into the fabric, the familiar tingle of heat growing behind your eyes.

Even though you know that both of you had a hand in this, you find yourself apologizing.

“I’m sorry —“

As soon as the words leave your mouth, he turns quickly.

“Hey — stop. No, don’t say that. Come ‘ere.”

Shortening the distance between your bodies, his face is a worried expression so thoroughly earnest that you step right into his arms, tucking your face into his chest. He gathers you into his hold, his familiar scent of sweat and cotton and woods soothing your nerves, and you lean into him, holding tight.

“I told you, you don’t gotta say sorry. Not to me.” His arms squeeze tighter, his chin coming to rest on the top of your head. “I was just – I didn’t expect that. I was just thinkin’.”

“That’s all I’ve been doing these last couple weeks,” you admit. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier. It’s just that I didn’t know for sure, and then I thought maybe I knew, and then I did know but I was so scared –”

“Shhh,” he soothes. “Hey, it’s okay. S’okay.”

Those words, said in his voice, bring fresh tears to your eyes, not realizing how much you needed to hear them until they were spoken out loud. Only by him, the only person you would accept them from because if he says it’s going to be okay, you know it to be true. He hasn’t failed you yet.

As if it only just occurs to him to check, he suddenly cups your face tenderly in his hands and makes you look up at him.

“You okay? You sick? How do you feel?”

“I’m….okay. I can’t tell if I’m more sick from the –” you stop short, unable to say the word out loud. Saying it makes it real and you aren’t ready for that yet. “I was pretty nervous to tell you.”

He says nothing, frowning. Searching your face for a moment, he nods as if he understands and brings you back to your place in his arms.

“I’m not mad at you, honey,” he murmurs. “If anything, you should be mad at me. I’m just as much at fault as you are. More, even.”

Your cheek staying pressed to the hollow of his shoulder, you frown. “How so?”

“I’m older than you are. I know better. I —“

“I know how sex works, Joel. I asked you for it, and I’m just as guilty —“

“I’m responsible for you.” His hand tilts your face up, so he can look you directly in the eyes and the statement is said with a finality that closes your mouth. “I gotta keep you safe — and there ain’t nothin’ safe about this.”

You feel your face start to crumple, your chest heavy with the shared knowledge.

“No,” you swallow, the edges of your mouth turning into something solemn. “No, there isn’t.”

His expression softens, his thumb stroking the fine hair at your temple and his voice softens too.

“It’ll be okay, honey. I’m right here.” His hold on your face firms, his eyes silently willing you to understand. “I would never, never let anything bad happen to you. Not ever.”

You both know that’s not a promise that he can make, but the words are like a raft in a storm; you cling to them, holding on with every fiber of your being.

“You understand?” he asks and you nod, the constant weight on your chest these last few weeks temporarily dissolving.

Your nod reassuring him, he guides your face back to his chest and with the weight of his broad hand sliding soothingly down your spine, you loosen under his touch.

Each lost in your own thoughts, the two of you stand there, wound tightly together.

–

It’s been hours, and he still can’t sleep.

A light breeze catches the curtain and the fabric waves lazily, your body still beside him in the dark room. You took some soothing to come down from the confession earlier, and he stayed by you until you went to sleep: tucked you into his side on the couch, wound himself around you in bed, took you apart only after he got your okay.

He lays naked, nothing but a thin sheet covering his form but it might as well be a weighted blanket with how his chest feels. It tightens and burns, a crushing pressure settling on top of it. Every breath becomes a pained struggle for air as he tries to stay still so you don’t wake up.

He doesn’t know anything about this.

Hazy memories: partial pieces of advice, parenting books and pediatrician visits and the day Sarah was born. Everything blends together in rapid succession: her sharp, bright wail, the team of doctors, her impossibly tiny body, featherlight in his hold.

He pictures the same thing in this room, but instead of bright lights and beeping machines, all he can picture is blood. So much blood.

Your face, twisted in pain.

Your face, crying.

Your pretty face, pleading for him to help you.

He tries to pull in air, his hand coming to push against the plane of his chest as the anxiety floods and gathers under his sternum, catching on and coating the muscles there until he’s locked in place. A cold sweat breaks out over his skin and he can barely hear the rapid, shallow pants of his own breathing under the rush of blood through his ears.

His vision tunnels, the walls of the room disappearing and self loathing creeps into his mind, as dark as the night outside.

He did this to you. You wanted it, but he knew better. He was supposed to protect you.

He closes his eyes tight and swallows hard, willing the panic away.

If something happens to you, it’s going to be his fault. He’s going to fail you, like he failed her. Fail the both of you.

Reaching out to grasp the sheet at his side as a means to anchor himself, he brushes the back of his hand against your hip and he opens his eyes, turning to face your back. Faced away from him, the soothingly slow rise and fall of your breathing catches his gaze and focusing on the pattern of it, he forces himself to match it.

In and out. In and out.

His hand splays over the slope of your waist, curving around your side and the warm give of your flesh reassures him. His vision clears, the softened edges of your shadowed form bringing him back to the room and the white noise filling his head fades, the tension in his chest slowly easing. He flexes his hold on you, his thumb sliding across your bare skin.

You turn in your sleep, rolling over to face him and lifting his hand just enough to let you move, he rests it back on your side. His thumb drags across your petal soft skin, his eyes dropping down to watch and before he can stop himself, the back of his knuckles brush delicately against the natural swell of your stomach.

He remembers the fear, but looking down at his hand, something blooms deep within that pit beneath his sternum. Something else, something that’s been lying dormant for years, but when he sees his hand against your bare stomach, it takes root and pierces through the surface of the panic.

Hesitantly, he lets himself feel those things, in the safety of the dark room.

Anticipation. Joy. Happiness, contentment. Love, that he’d never imagined he’d feel again.

He feels a version of it when he looks at you right now — a deeper version of it, a calmer one. A steady, anchoring emotion, one that he fought in the beginning but now has given in and gotten used to it.

The love that he has for you planted within your body, taking root.

His thumb drags over your belly button, and you shift in your sleep.

“There’s nothing there yet,” you mumble, the words a soft slur in the darkness. “Go to sleep, baby.”

He hums lowly, his hand splaying to cover your stomach. Fingertip to thumb, it spans from hip to hip, but when you shift again next to him, he reluctantly pulls it away.

Gathering you as gently as he can in his arms, he tilts his chin down to catch your mouth with his. Sleep warm and soft, you kiss him back and his arm winds around your waist, tugging you close.

With your belly cradled between the two of you, he falls asleep.

#joel miller/reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller/you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal character #pedro pascal character fanfiction

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