#she left her knife with him and I’m supposed to be normal about that. okay | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mimikoflamemaker · 1 year ago

Text

Faerunian Writing Challenge - Day 8

8. “It will be okay as long as we are together.” 1 of NSFW? list: First Time

(it's not that NSFW I suppose... more of a character study, and I really wanted a take on this scene. Becasue they are both more than a little fucked up at this point)

Neve was ready to admit that it has been a while since she had felt so much like a prey while making her way through the woods. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel the tell-tale pull low in her abdomen – she wasn’t going to deny that she was attracted to Astarion. Her track record in regards of partners was not exactly stellar and being pulled in by a man who held a knife to her throat the first time they laid eyes on each other felt like something right out of her repertoire. And he certainly was the sight to be admired – and she wasn’t good enough of a person to not act on the simple desire of flesh. It didn’t have to be anything more than that, after all.

It wasn’t even the fact that he was a vampire spawn. She could appreciate, in a way, her blood being sucked literally rather than figuratively. And for a handful of times he did it so far, Astarion always stopped when she told him to. Which was more than she could say about some other people she met in her life.

No, none of that was what made the tiny hairs on her neck prickle in something decidedly less pleasant than anticipation.

She knew fairy early on that Astarion was playing pretend. That, save for the rare glimpses, like the night when he showed her his true nature, nothing he said was sincere. Not one of the lines he threw at her, the ones with which he offered to spend the night with her not an exception. It touched upon a lot of memories she would rather keep buried or throw out of her mind completely and should, if she was a normal person, send her pelting for the hills.

And yet she didn’t.

Because this time, the roles were reversed. Despite the words that left his mouth, it was Astarion who sought to gain something from her. And it was a decent angle to try – intimacy bound people after all, one way or the other. It certainly bound her to Alven all those years ago.

Whatever her companion wanted, she should have refused to meet him tonight. Tell him there are other ways to gain trust and appreciation. That would be the good thing to do. But she relished in the feeling of – regardless of how fleeting it might prove to be – control.

She never claimed she was a good person.

The clearing was a small spot by the river, a good distance away from the camp. Neve approached cautiously, like she was always taught, not surprised in the least be the silence that greeted her. Whichever creatures might have been in the area before had cleared off, well aware of the predator on the prowl.

This is very much how Astarion looked like when he came out from between the trees as she popped the last button of her shirt open and slid the fabric of her shoulders. His shirt was already gone and as much as Neve was never going to say this out loud, the pride the elf took in his looks was more than warranted. She had met and laid with her fair share of people over the years, some undeniably attractive ones, but it was a while since she felt such pull on her own desires.

‘Eager, are we?’ he asked, his lips pulled into a charming smirk as he drew closer, his eyes tracing the line of her bare shoulders. ‘Good to know I’m not the only one. I was waiting to have you since I first laid eyes on you…’

Right. She could applaud the delivery, but it was long since she outgrew being affected by such words.

‘I will grant you that threatening each other with steel can be a promising introduction’ she replied, matching his attitude. ‘You do not have me, however. Not yet.’

‘Don’t I?’ his eyes narrowed briefly, but his tone remained playful. ‘Why else would you come here then? Except for the pleasure of being tasted? Being known? The possibility of losing yourself in me tonight?’

Shortly after they’ve met Neve decided that she took much more pleasure in pulling Astarion’s act apart than being subjected to it. It was a well ingrained habit – to watch people as she interacted with them, trying to decipher their true motives and intentions. To understand what laid deep beneath the appearances. And she prided herself with doing so rather well. It was quite unfortunate when she learned, rather quickly that her companions were either an open books or actually willing to blurt out their lives’ secrets at the slightest coaxing.

Astarion was the only one who provided her with a challenge. Even more so, it seemed that the harder she tried to peel of the layers of flair and the theatrics the more he was leaning into them. What he didn’t seem to realize however was that, while he strived to dissuade her, she only wanted to crack this puzzle more.

‘And what do you want?’ felt like an innocuous enough question. A question that should be asked given what they were about to do.

A question she would have liked to hear much more often.

She didn’t expect to see a crack in the façade in response. A slight pinch between his eyebrows, his lips drawing into a thin line, the moment of - surprise? uncertainty? - flashing behind his eyes. It took her by surprise, much like the fear that poured over her the first time their minds touched and it was gone before she could fully decipher it.

‘And what do any of us want?’ the playful tone was back as he tossed the question back at her, his fingers ghosting over the exposed skin of her forearm. ‘Pleasure. Yours. Mine… our collective ecstasy. That’s what you want isn’t it?’

Neve closed the remaining distance and kissed him, wrapping her hands around his neck. The sliver of doubt locked in the back of her mind was only growing bigger and if she was to spare it any more thought, she would have likely pulled from this tryst completely.

And gods, she really didn’t want to. It didn’t have to mean anything after all. More than a little bit of fun that is.

Astarion chuckled as he returned the kiss, his hand moving to rest against her hips, before his fingers skimmed along the waistband of her trousers. His touch was unhurried, but certain. Gentle where it needed to be and less so when he realized what caused her to stiffen in a sudden surge of pleasure.

His lips moved from her mouth, travelling along her jaw and ghosted along the shell of her ear, before dipping lower, nipping lightly at the spot where he had bitten her for the first time. Neve wasn’t really opposed to the idea of him getting a little bit more out of this than just sex. The bite itself wasn’t even that uncomfortable.

The elleth scraped her nails along his scalp, raking her fingers through Astarion’s hair and down his neck. She could return the ministrations with, she hoped, equal focus and dedication.

When her fingers traced the first ridges of scarring, she couldn’t help but hesitate for a brief moment. Scars didn’t faze her, not in the slightest, but she knew first hand that people could be self-conscious about their perceived imperfections. And that her hesitation was much more likely to be read as disgust than consideration, given that they couldn’t really see each other’s faces. She could tell his lips had stopped moving against the hollow of her shoulder – he noticed and was waiting what her reaction would be.

The elleth ran her hands down his back – gentler than she had initially wanted to, but with no less intent. She really couldn’t care less about a few scars and she didn’t want him to think otherwise for a second.

Besides, he was bound to find his own surprise soon enough.

Even though he seemed more intent on releasing her from the reminder of her clothes. She figured she’d join in – and it was an awkward few moments, punctuated by kissing and an half-chuckle that escaped her as she was forced to fight with a buckle on her boot. It was when Astarion held her forearm while she tossed the offending shoe off, that he had noticed her own scars. She knew, when his fingers flexed briefly against her flesh and the expected quip about ruining the moment did not come.

Neve straightened, intent on catching his gaze and reading it again. She found no judgement there as a quiet understanding passed between them. There won’t be any unnecessary curiosity tonight. The elleth smiled and captured his mouth again, gently nipping his bottom lip before they parted.

His eyes darkened, the same hunger she saw when he first told her what he was peering at her from beneath a half-lidded stare. The elleth smiled, tossing her hair over one shoulder and presenting the length of her neck to him.

The smile he had given her in response was one of the few honest ones she had seen so far.

Astarion took her hand and guided her to the ground with him until he was leaning backwards and she straddled his hips, kissing him, her fingers yet again playing with his hair. His thumb rested against her pulse-point the entire time, feeling her heartbeat.

Next thing she knew were fingers gripping her tight and a swift motion that had her landing on her back. Neve didn’t stop the amused sound that escaped her, as Astarion’s lips traced the spot on her neck again. One of his hands cradled her head, while the other travelled down, through the valley of her breasts, across the planes of her stomach that tightened under the feather-like touch. Until it rested on the mound between her thighs. Briefly, only enough to add to the anticipation, before his fingers found their way inside.

A sight that escaped her sounded suspiciously like his name.

She could have sworn she heard him chuckle, right before the pain of the bite was drowned by bliss.

(…the morning after)

The first reaction to waking up was surprise. By the fact that she was away from the camp, before consciousness really settled in. Then because she had actually fallen asleep – no matter how strenuous their activities were, she had never planned to finish the night by dozing off. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust him – well she didn’t, not completely anyway, but Astarion proved himself enough to expect that he would behave, at least as long as it suited him.

It was the kind of vulnerability that she wasn’t willing to offer yet. And she did it anyway.

Lastly, though it didn’t faze her as much, she was alone.

Astarion wasn’t too far away though, standing at the edge of the river, bathing in the early morning light. Neve sat up, but did not move otherwise, choosing to watch him. Because it was a rather pleasant view. Obvious attractiveness aside, the elf seemed uncharacteristically relaxed, the golden sunlight almost giving his pale skin its own glow. She wouldn’t be opposed to waking up to such a view more often.

And then she remembered what he told her when she first asked about his vampric nature. That he didn’t see the sun since the day he was turned, two hundred years ago. That explained the fear she felt when they met and their tadpoles jumped into introductions.

Something clenched in her abdomen. Not that he would accept it, but she felt sorry for him. She knew a thing or two about being held on a thigh leash, even if their… other experiences hardly compared.

A small voice at the back of her mind whispered that last night she did exactly what Alven would do – Astarion wanted something from her and she used that for her own gain, even though it was only a pleasure of flesh. She pushed the thought away – he wouldn’t have proposed if he didn’t want it after all.

Yet, the doubt was still there. And something that tasted vaguely like guilt.

Trying to steer her mind elsewhere she focuses on the array of scars she felt beneath her fingers last night. Hers were only as deliberate as lashes could be, a crisscrossing net of silvery lines that healed fairly flat, except of spots where her skin was opened one too many times.

His were deliberate. Someone had cut into his skin, repeatedly, creating an intricate pattern and her own back burned with the memory of an old pain. She couldn’t imagine being able to hold one’s screams for long when being subjected to such torment.

It wasn’t difficult to guess, whose hand had placed the scars upon his back. The sheer disgust in Astarion’s voice when he spat Cazador’s name was all she needed to hear, to know it couldn’t be anybody else; regardless of a fragmented information he had offered her so far.

The more she focused on the scars however, the more familiar the pattern looked – as if she had seen the jagged shapes before.

‘I’m all for being quietly admired darling’ Astarion broke the silence without really turning to look at her. ‘But I doubt that our… activities have worn you out too much to speak…’ he stilled as he felt the ranger’s presence behind him, not even a single crunching leaf announcing that she moved from her previous spot.

She stood close enough for him to feel her breath fanning across his exposed back.

‘Why did he do this to you?’ she asked and there was something he couldn’t quite place in her tone. When he turned to face her, her expression was similarly unreadable, her lips drawn into a thin line and her eyes trained on his face as they tended to be every time they spoke.

It wasn’t pity though and he could appreciate that, even if it likely stemmed from the fact that she too had a memory of something branded into her flesh.

‘Cazador considered himself quite the artist you see’ he said, his tone aiming to dissipate the heaviness left by her question and failing miserably when her brows creased even further. Yet the next word left his mouth anyway. ‘His slaves tended to be his favorite canvas. He cut this poem over the course of one night… he made a lot of revisions as he went.’

She made a move as if she wanted to reach out and touch him, but aborted it half way, choosing to cross her arms over her breast instead in an obvious attempt to make it less awkward.

He was glad that she didn’t.

‘Why did he wrote it in infernal though?’ she mused, eyeing him carefully.

‘Infernal?’ well that was new. Then again he didn’t even know how the bloody thing looked like. ‘Ugh… I don’t know. The bastard was crazy. He might have done so on a whim…’

She clearly didn’t believe him. No wonder – he didn’t really believe himself either. But he had to mull over that revelation by himself, before he could think about entertaining anybody else.

‘That’s quite enough of pillow-talk for one morning. Shall we go? There is no knowing what the rest is up to while the parents are away…’

She laughed. And it wasn’t as surprising as the fact that it was probably the first laugh he heard from her that was more than a chuckle while not being mocking or a derisive snort.

‘Parents?’ she asked, looking at him with a smile that was strangely fond.

‘Well…figuratively speaking, of course. We are after all, the most reasonable members of this little entourage…’

‘Right…’

‘What was that supposed to mean?’

‘Oh nothing’ her smile turned coy. ‘I’m just suddenly glad I am not more of a child -rearing material.’

If it was a deflection it was a poor one, but she had already turned away from him, walking towards the spot where they left her pants and boots and preventing him from reading anything else from her expression.

#bg3ficfeb #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fic #tav #tav x astarion

4 notes · View notes

memoryofastar · 2 months ago

Text

4. Defeat

[dumb fluff, set about two years prior to current date]

She should have thought this through, but she had just wanted to get home. The day had been unbearably long as it was.

Thalanthe stared down at the potato on the cutting board, knife in her left hand, right arm in a sling and sighed.

“I didn’t think a potato would be the thing to finally defeat Boyar Gil-Estel.” A smooth voice came from beside her. He never knocked.

“My patience is thin enough already without you here, if you’re looking for the papers you asked for, they’re on the desk.” She rolled her eyes, and turned to face him, angling the kitchen knife up at him. He held his hands up and gave her a mischievous grin, he was holding a bottle of sake, he extended it toward her.

“Trade me.” He reached for the knife and took it from her hand, she passed it over and took the bottle, turning it over in her hands to inspect it. It was of fine quality.

“Oh, so you’re going to cook? I didn’t know you could.” Thalanthe sniped.

“I haven’t eaten, I will admit this loss against the potato hurts both of us. I will chop, and then you can instruct me on what to do next. Go, sit.” He jerked his head in the direction of the sitting room to the side of the kitchen. Thalanthe shook her head, she took a step and then stopped.

“Wait. Open this.” She handed him the bottle. He chuckled and uncorked it, returning it to her. She plopped herself down in the chair and took a swig from the bottle, not bothering to get a cup.

“Long day?” He called from the kitchen; she heard the dull sound of the knife hitting the board.

“Long week.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t go see a healer?”

“I can fix it myself; I just need a few days.”

“Right, that’s sensible.”

“I don’t want to hear it from you, it’s a wonder my floors aren’t permanently crimson with how much you’ve bled on them. Do you know how many botched stitches of yours I’ve had to fix?”

“They were fine.”

“They were not.”

“Agree to disagree. How much longer are you in Durong, anyway?”

“Long enough for you to bother me again when I’m better if that’s why you’re asking.”

“No, I actually was asking because I have a job for you.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me. I have enough on my plate.”

“I was kidding.” She heard his laughter. She scowled at the kitchen.

“Asshole. You’ve been in there an awfully long time to have been chopping a single potato.”

“I am done.”

Thalanthe stood, taking another drink. The bottle was pretty light now, she supposed she hadn’t been really paying attention to how much she’d been drinking. She stood beside him and looked down at the cutting board. She couldn’t believe it.

The potato was minced. She couldn’t contain her laughter.

“What.” He shot a dirty look at her.

“What is this?!” She wheezed out between laughs.

“I have watched you do something similar with other vegetables. Is this not satisfactory?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, okay.” Thalanthe took a breath and tried to pull herself together. She was not quite successful. “Iz, I want you to think about stew. I’ve made it for you plenty.”

“Iz?”

“Focus. How are the potatoes in stew normally shaped?” She was holding back her laughter as he seemed to consider it for a moment.

“I am… beginning to see my mistake.” She could have sworn he blushed.

“I cannot believe you are this horrible at cooking. So, there are things you’re bad at.”

“You could have been clearer with your directive.” He muttered crossly, reaching for another potato. Thalanthe cackled.

“You must stab only as much as needed; don’t let it know you’re coming. A clean kill.” Thalanthe dropped her voice low and made it raspy.

“That is not how Ajir sounds.” Izura hissed, but he cracked a smile as she continued to laugh, finding himself chuckling softly.

“And yet you knew I was pretending to be him, hm?” Thalanthe took a drink and Izura reached out to take the bottle from her. He frowned at how empty it was.

“I’m not sure if I’m impressed or disappointed.” He shook the bottle a bit.

“There’s more in the cabinet.” Thalanthe pointed to the other side of the kitchen.

“Of this quality?”

“No.” She smiled sheepishly. He shook his head and took a drink. She moved closer to him and took his hand in hers, guiding the knife.

“In half. Now, slice here and here. Good, now turn it. A few more slices of that size. That’s how you chop a potato.”

“I can handle the rest.”

“You’ve lost the privilege of cooking without a supervisor I’m afraid.” She kissed him on the cheek, and then hauled herself up onto the counter, he steadied her as she did. She crossed her legs at the knee and looked down at him smugly.

“I’m never going to hear the end of this, am I?” He sighed.

“No.”

“Figures. What next?”

0 notes

toastyeverlark · 2 years ago

Text

“So, how’s it working out with Peeta?”

Katniss doesn’t turn to look, and instead continues trimming the delphiniums in the garden.

“It’s going great. He’s very good to me.”

Katniss cringes upon hearing the soles of Ines’ shoes crush against the freshly-mown grass.

“Peeta’s good to everyone, though,” Ines grins like a cat.

“And he should be. Isn’t it just something a decent human being should be doing?”

Ines digs her foot into the grass. “Of course it is. What I mean is, you’re not all that special to him, Katniss Everdeen. This marriage will end sooner or later, and it’ll be Peeta who instigates it.”

“And you’re quite a pathetic attention-seeker, aren’t you?” Katniss drops the pair of shears and turns to face her.

“You don’t know anything about Peeta Mellark, do you?” Ines trails around the garden, her every step aggressive and rough as her shoes dig into the ground, causing striking damage to the greenery.

“You don’t know that he doesn’t take sugar in his tea,” Ines stops to pluck a flower from a bush. Katniss had just prepared him a cup of tea with a whole pack of sugar in it a couple of days ago, which he had finished without a drop left in the cup.

“You don’t know that he likes to sleep with the windows open,” Ines tosses the flower behind her. Katniss had asked on their first night together if it was alright for the windows to be shut, and he had told her he liked sleeping with the windows shut as well.

“You don’t know anything,” Ines looks at Katniss in the eye, “You don’t know anything because you didn’t grow up with him, you two aren’t meant to be together, and this whole marriage of yours is just a miserable twist of fate.”

Katniss glares at her without a word, her fists clenched.

Ines, satisfied with her reaction, twirls around and walks away as if nothing had happened.

Katniss picks up the shears and goes back to trimming the delphiniums, and somehow it gives her some sort of comfort, but not for long. A tear rolls down her cheek.

Katniss doesn’t even notice that the front door’s been opened and shut. She doesn’t even notice when Peeta announces his arrival while kicking off his socks and shoes at the door.

She sits sullenly on the floor of their bedroom, staring at a spot on the wall.

“Katniss?” Peeta lightly taps her shoulder, which startles her. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you okay?”

“Oh, uh yeah, yeah. I’m fine. How’s the bakery today?”

“I brought back your favourite. Let’s have it in the kitchen,” he smiles and helps her up and leads her to the kitchen table, where a delicious-smelling loaf of raisin-and-nut bread sat.

“I had some spare time today, so I decided to make this for you since you haven’t had it in a while. It’s just the way you like it,” Peeta says as he slices the loaf into pieces with a knife.

He places a slice on her plate, “Have it while it’s warm. I ran home from the bakery just so it wouldn’t cool.”

“Thank you, Peeta,” Katniss takes a bite and breaks out into a grin. “You never disappoint.”

Peeta observes her quietly as he eats his own slice. Normally, she would be telling him about her day and rave about how she was getting better at managing the garden, something she never imagined she would be able to do.

For some reason, the crumb of bread on the table is seemingly more interesting to Katniss tonight.

“Peeta?”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t realise you like your tea without sugar.”

He stares at her, surprised. “It’s fine. I like it both ways actually.”

“You could’ve told me the other day when I dumped a whole pack of sugar into your tea, you know.”

Peeta laughs. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not that important whether I have sugar in my tea or not. You prepared it for me, and that’s all that matters.”

Katniss sighs. “You didn’t tell me you like to sleep with the windows open either. This isn’t how it’s supposed to work, you know. It’s supposed to be me and you. Not just me.”

Peeta smiles, and pulls her chair towards him. He takes her hands and massages them gently.

“I want it to be just you.”

“We’re in an arranged marriage, Peeta. It’s not like the movies, it doesn’t always work out. I don’t know much about you, I’ve never really done anything for you. You’ve been the one doing everything for me. And for some reason, you seem to know me so well with everything that you do.”

“Katniss,” he looks down at her hands and then her face. “Why do you think that of yourself? Just because Ines tells you that you don’t know about my preference to sleep with the windows open and to have no sugar in my tea, you think this relationship is doomed? Why haven’t you thought about how you decided to learn gardening because I told you that I like gardening? Why haven’t you thought about how you always save the best parts of the game you hunt for me? I’m still learning about you, Katniss, I’m still finding more parts of you to love everyday, as if there isn’t enough to love about you already. I know you’re doing the same.”

He reaches out to hold her face and pulls her in for a long kiss.

“Okay?”

Katniss nods with an embarrassed smile, her cheeks red and her head dizzy.

“How did you know about Ines?”

Peeta snorts. “I guessed that she’s been trying to give you some ideas. Ines has always been annoying, even when we were kids. I hoped that she would grow out of it, but I guess some people are just like that forever.”

Katniss chuckles. “Shall we sleep with the windows open tonight?”

“Katniss.”

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #everlark drabble #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #katniss x peeta #the hunger games #FINALLY A DRABBLE AFTER FOREVER HOPE YOU LIKE IT GUYS my inspiration will probably dry again help

187 notes · View notes

hanjisick · 3 years ago

Text

warning. yandere themes. murder. kidnapping.

[ready or not] your burner phone was clutched tightly in your hands, shakily typing to your only friend who had stayed with you throughout your relationship with minho.

“leaving.” you wrote, sending the message and shoving it into your pocket before leaving the house.

minho’s words flood your brain as you began to run. were they truly only threats?

if you thought too much about it, you’d turn back for the safety of your friend.

she told you to not think into it much, to trust her.

you planned your escape for months now, and everything was going just to plan.

the bus had arrived not a moment later from what your friend had said, boarding it and trying your best to not stand out.

it had been over a year since you had gone in public without minho, and you weren’t quite sure what you were supposed to do anymore.

the bus left at 5:40 PM. minho would be walking through the door right now. it will take him a few more minutes to realize you’re gone.

the bus arrived at your friends house in another hour, where you would be staying until you could find somewhere permanent, preferably far away from him.

relief flooded over you as she hugged you, the first hug you had received in forever from someone other than him.

she ushered you inside, her gentle smile making you truly feel like it was okay once again.

her boyfriend greeted you as well, surprising you with another hug.

for once, you had a regular conversation with a normal dinner.

there were no threats. no graphic descriptions of how they had killed others.

just a quiet, peaceful dinner.

your peace had lasted until nightfall, your friend being kind enough to offer you a pillow and blanket as well as her living room couch.

closing your eyes, you truly felt free once again.

the feeling, however, didn’t last long as you jolted awake in a familiar place from a forceful kick to your shin.

“you’re awake,” minho grinned, leaning down to your level and brushing the hair out of your eyes.

you were disoriented. was this all a dream?

he waved your burner phone in front of your face, confirming the reality that you didn’t want to face, “was your game fun, doll?”

you needed to think fast.

“are you mad at me?” you studied his expression, not finding a single hint of anger in his eyes. he seemed more amused than anything.

“i’m not mad at all— i’ve wanted to show you what i can do for a while now. i’m proud of my work.”

“what did you do to my friends?” you shouted in terror, realizing exactly what he had meant.

you didn’t bother to struggle in the familiar ropes, knowing that all it would do is hurt you.

“while you were playing hide and seek, i took the little friends who helped you get away. i found you, and now you can be it, find them! i've hidden them all around the house!”

his knife cut through the ropes bounding your arms and legs together.

the knife was still close. he wouldn’t hesitate to stab you if you made the wrong move “ready or not, here she comes!”

you shook as you turned doorknobs, opened cabinets, checked shelves, minho closely stalking behind you.

“she found you,” he would tell each dismembered limb, a look of pity his face.

“and now that you’ve seeked like me, you’ll never be a hider again, right?”

#skz #skz yandere #yandere stray kids #han jisung #stray kids #stray kids smut #bang chan #yandere skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #skz au #skz fanfiction #stray kids imagines #skz blurb #skz fanfic #skz masterlist #stray kids rp #skz imagines

230 notes · View notes

soulmate-game · 4 years ago

Note

Daughter of wonderwoman au where marinette finds out her mother is actually Diana and somehow it ends up with her meeting/being introduced to the batfam maybe because she has super strength and is seen yeeting some bad guys who tried to mug her... Or something.

“... you are running from your problems, Mari,” Adrien’s exasperated voice reminded his best friend. Again. She ignored him, and he threw his hands up in exasperation. “Look, you don’t have to do anything about it! Nobody would hold it against you if you decided to just, ignore that you found anything out at all. But you need to actually think about what we just found out and decide whether or not you’re gonna do anything—“ he side-stepped a piece of trash that went flying in his direction. “—or if you’re gonna move on and pretend nothing happened.”

“Isn’t that what I’m doing?” Marinette shot back, pushing her bangs out of her face and tying her hair back with one hand.

“No, you’re currently hiding away in Gotham to avoid your parents while you beat up every random group of idiots who thinks you’re an easy mark,” he retorted. Another wannabe kidnapper went flying in his direction, making him sigh and side step again. She had thrown that one with only her one free hand, showing just how upset she was. “You’re ignoring everything in your life, which is not what we meant we said you should get a little space.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Marinette dropkicked the last criminal into unconsciousness before stepping back and putting her hands on her hips. She looked over at the now seven passed out men in the alleyway, and the one very frustrated ex-model pinching the bride of his nose. “I think I’m coping just fine.”

“It’s better than being forced to suppress all of your emotions, sure,” Adrien reluctantly agreed. “But not by much. Your angry rampage through Gotham has already attracted more attention,” he raised his hand to point at a nearby rooftop. Several shadows lurked there, looming over the building’s edge. “Which, might I add, is exactly why I told you not to come to Gotham.”

“You’re the one who followed me here,” she shot back before turning to the shadowy figures above them. “Go ahead and come down! But it was self defense, and you can’t arrest or beat me up for defending myself!”

The first figure to drop down straightened your just as quickly, revealing the imposing figure of none other than Batman himself. The little white eyes on his cowl seemed to narrow on their own as he looked down at her.

“That might be true, but I’m sure you know my policy on metas in my city,” he grumbled back at her. He wasn’t necessarily threatening, but he definitely wasn’t welcoming either. With all of his limbs hidden behind the cocoon that was his cape, Marinette would never be able to predict his next move if he did decide to fight. Not that she seemed particularly worried about that as she crossed her arms over her chest and met his glare evenly.

“Oh, do you own this city now? I wasn’t given the memo,” she retorted. “And considering I didn’t even know I was a meta until last week? I think I deserve a little slack. I’m angry and if people think the tiny little girl in pink is an easy kidnapping target, then it’s their fault for making themselves into the perfect practice dummies for me to try out my newly discovered strength on.”

Adrien saw the eyes on Batman’s mask narrow even further. Marinette wasn’t exactly at her most charismatic at the moment, and Adrien didn’t wanna get the both of them into a bad relationship with the experienced superhero who always seemed to know things he shouldn’t know. So he stepped up quickly, getting in between Marinette and the Bat and holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Okay, Monsieur Batman,” Adrien started slowly, making sure his posture was impeccable and his smile bright. “She’s telling the truth, even if she’s not... the most tactful about it right now. She just found out some very concerning things about her origin and Gotham is the best place for her to hide from her problems and let loose a little pent up aggression. But— well,” he grimaced. “We didn’t intend to run into you guys, but maybe it’s a good thing we did.”

“How so?” Batman was clearly still incredibly suspicious of the both of them and wasn’t giving an inch. So Marinette rolled her eyes (she was still very moody) and leaned around Adrien so she could get a good look at the monochromatic hero.

“I thank my lucky spots that we ran into you, Batman!” She said monotonously. “Me and Adrien are paw-sitively excited at this opportunity.”

Batman. Froze.

Not only were those two lines the very first lines ever spoken to him by two foreign heroes a few years ago (with a few key words changed to protect identities), but they had become their code phrase for whenever they made calls to one another outside of their costumes. All at once it seemed to hit him— the golden hair and bright green eyes on the boy, the blue-black hair and normally super-focused bluebell eyes on the girl that were currently sporting very uncharacteristic frustration. Their heights. Their builds. All of this info flowed through his mind and compared to the information stored in his memory, and it only took the span of two seconds for everything to click.

Suddenly Batman was at full attention, back straight instead of looming over them and eyebrows clearly raised high under his cowl.

He knew Chat Noir and Ladybug would never take a random vacation to Gotham. Ladybug herself had nearly waxed poetic about how much the city depressed her just from the pictures she saw online. If she had willingly come to visit, it was more than to just blow off some steam.

“Batcave?” He asked, earning a relieved look from Adrien and a moody silence from Marinette.

“Please,” Adrien agreed. “You can probably help us, actually.”

—*—*—*—*—*

Marinette leaned back in the metal debriefing chair, legs up on the table and looking for all the world as the picture of pure teenage rebellion and angst. Coincidentally, Red Hood was in the exact same position in the chair next to her.

Batman and all of his other bats and birds were in the cave with the two off-duty Parisian heroes. Everyone except Adrien and Marinette still had their masks on, since the two Parisians were still not privy to their identities. Yet.

To be fair, the bats hadn’t known the identities of the two miraculous users either before today.

“Cha Noir,” Batman started, only to get a head shake from the blond boy.

“Just call me Adrien. Chat’s out of the bag—“ he ignored the groans at the pun and soldiered on, “—so might as well use my real name.”

Batman nodded. “Adrien, then,” he amended. “Why are you and Ladybug really in Gotham?”

Adrien sighed. “I wasn’t lying, before. Marinette,” he gestured to his hero partner. “Just found out some distressing family news. Since HawkMoth is gone, she doesn’t need to repress her negative emotions anymore. But she also didn’t want to be around her parents while she processed everything. I told her to choose any other city— really, I begged— but she insisted on coming to Gotham.”

“The never ending cloud cover and constant rain seem thematic,” she finally spoke up, reaching into her big over-the-shoulder bag and pulling out a large envelope. She threw it to Batman, making the thin package slice through the air like a knife. To nobody’s surprise the seasoned hero easily caught the projectile between two fingers. He looked at the envelope and back to Marinette, silent questions floating in the air between them. Marinette decided to answer at her own pace.

“That’s what we found out. You see, one of my friends is a huge science nerd. A genius. And he wanted to compare DNA samples between us to see if there were any genetic components that determined a person’s suitability towards certain Miraculous or other magical artifacts over others. It was supposed to just be a fun side project that he didn’t expect any breakthroughs on. He mostly just wanted to satisfy his own curiosity. But instead of finding out if our DNA was linked to the miraculous, he found out that my parents are not biologically my parents.”

“Hence the whole just finding out that you’re a meta thing, right?” Nightwing spoke up, fully invested in the story. “Did they never say you were adopted before?”

“It’s not in the system,” she replied easily. “My parents have all the documentation to prove that I’m their biological child, except I’m not. When I confronted them about it, they caved and admitted that they had adopted me in secret and covered it up. Apparently a friend of theirs was involved in something illegal, and,” she waved at the envelope that Batman was now opening. “The details of what we were able to dig up are in there. The summary is this; their friend was part of a secret, illegal experimentation to create clones that could defeat the Justice League—“ the air seemed to get sucked out of the room as soon as those words left Marinette’s mouth. Everyone seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. “—a group called CADMUS. They made me, as apparently one of their early attempts. But I didn’t exhibit any of the powers they were looking for, or any meta traits at all, and my body refused to mature at the rate they wanted. They had no use for a seemingly normal human baby that they managed to clone, so they were preparing to kill me and start over. That’s when my parent’s friend stole me, not wanting to kill an infant, and begged my parents to take me in and pretend I was theirs. Low and behold, it turns out that my DNA just needed a very specific series of emotions to unlock it’s latent abilities.”

“Those emotions being..?” Red hood trailed off, earning a wolfish smile from Marinette.

“Intense anger, betrayal, and confused frustration closely followed by the desire to punch other people’s faces in.”

“That last one is just an assumption,” Adrien chimed in. “And maybe not accurate. But the first three, our scientist friend was able to confirm. The rapid experience of a lot of negative but action-oriented emotions released whatever had been holding back the powers in her DNA from expressing themselves,” he had switched to French so that he could explain everything exactly as Max had told it to them, but he knew all of them were fluent anyway so it was fine. They nodded along, processing the information.

The crinkling of paper drew everyone’s attention back to Batman, who had been flipping through the detailed break down of everything they had found about Marinette’s situation and how she was made by CADMUS.

“Uh,” Red Robin nervously spoke up. “What’s up, Batman?”

“Your genetic donors...” Batman breathed, getting a wink and finger guns from Marinette.

“Yup. Isn’t that just the most fucked up thing you’ve ever seen? They were clearly trying to make someone who could destroy the world.”

“That makes me nervous,” Nightwing admitted, getting up and going to get a look at the papers himself. “It can’t be that ba—“

When even Nightwing was left agape, everyone else who wasn’t in on it found themselves squirming.

“Just tell the rest of us, already!” Robin demanded after the silence stretched just a bit too long.

“The unknowing genetic donors that CADMUS used to make me,” Marinette spoke up, still with her legs up on the table. “Are a very mad-scientist’s-wet-dream combination of Lex Luthor, Bruce Wayne, and Wonder Woman.”

“We don’t even know why they added Bruce Wayne’s DNA,” Adrien admitted. “Although our scientist friend thinks it’s because of physique. His hypothesis is that, in order to support the genes of Wonder Woman, they had to add male genetics that could support the production of a very high muscle mass and would lean towards easy development of a very athletic body. Lex might be evil-scientist smart, but he’s a string bean. But if he added the DNA of another multi millionaire who just so happens to maintain a ridiculously fit body without putting any obvious work into it,” Adrien shrugged. “Then maybe the clone would be able to support Wonder Woman’s genetics and that of two human donors without falling apart.”

“So I’m ‘the clone’ now, huh?” Marinette snarked, earning an exasperated eye roll from her friend.

Batman just stared at the both of them for a moment. He walked away without a word, and came back with a fresh needle and a box. He placed it on the debriefing table.

“Can I do a paternity test myself?” He asked, his voice suspiciously less gruff than normal. “I trust the both of you, but I rather be safe than sorry with something like this.”

The both of them just stared at him in confusion. They traded a glance, and finally Marinette shrugged and moved to sit in her chair properly. Her shirt was already short sleeved, so she just held her arm out so Batman could easily get a blood sample.

“Sure, why not. But do you just have Lex Luthor or Bruce Wayne’s DNA sitting around to compare, or—“ she shut up when she watched Batman take off his glove and roll his own sleeve up. Realization slowly sunk in as he asked Nightwing to take a blood sample from him.

“Holy shit,” she breathed, eyes wide. “You’re— and Luthor doesn’t know— holy shit this is even worse than I thought,” Marinette rambled, not even noticing as Red Hood moved forward and took a small blood sample from her.

Adrien put a hand over his face and just laughed for a moment hysterically. “Oh my god,” he looked over at Marinette. “You could take over the world.”

“I have the blood of Batman AND Wonder Woman on MY side,” Marinette joked back, also hysterical.

When the bat’s high tech equipment was able to come back with a positive result only a few minutes later, Marinette and Adrien had to sit on the floor and just let it all sink in. Which Batman did not at all help by immediately unmasking himself and trying to make a proper introduction.

“I wanna go beat up random thugs again,” Marinette whined, pulling at her hair. “I’ll put on a mask, whatever, but just please let me punch people. I need to punch people right now.”

#maribat #ml x dc #mlb x dc #soulmate-game #dc x miraculous #dc x mlb #bio!mom Wonder Woman #Bio!mom Diana prince #bio!dad Bruce Wayne #Bio!dad Batman #idk what this is #but it happened #and it’s something

1K notes · View notes

countrymusiclover · 2 years ago

Text

Ch 3 - The King’s Command

Part 4

Fire Of A Stark

@queenieala

Slamming the door to my chambers I screamed quickly tearing the dress off and throwing on a tunic and trousers. Grabbing one of the books from my table I launched it over my head feeling tears slipping out. It wasn’t bad enough that I had to hide who my real family house was. I also was about to be sent into marriage with a stranger. The Lannister’s were the richest house in the kingdom. But money and status didn’t mean anything to me. Someone knocked on the door making me wipe away tears seeing Sansa when I opened it. “Cadence, are you okay. Why are you crying?”

“Go away Sansa. You won’t understand.” I grumbled about closing the door in her face until she stopped it with her hand.

She stares at me with concern on her face. She closes the door behind her seeing that I had thrown multiple books and I had launched a kitchen knife into the wooden bed frame. “Did someone upset you? You normally don’t tear your room apart like this. Mother won’t like it.”

“My life is over Sansa. This isn’t over who stole the last cake or beat me in a sword match!” Spinning on my heels I threw my hands up starting to cry over the fate that was coming for me. She couldn’t possibly understand. She never has. “I’m forced to marry one of the Lannisters!”

She knitted her brows together, hands intertwined together in front of her. “Marriage doesn’t mean you’re life is over, sis. It means you get to have a husband and have his children-“

“And bend the knee to his every will. God, you are so naive. From the day we were born our future has been decided. All because we don’t have a cock. I’ll never be able to wield a sword, ride freely on horseback like a man or wear trousers if I so wish!”Running my fingers through my hair I yanked the knife out of the wood drawing it behind my head and launched it straight back into the wood even harder than before.

She jumped back slightly frightened seeing anger in my eyes. I usually had a temper about things but she had never seen me this angry. Then again none of the Stark children know my secret. It was easier if only very few knew the truth. “Do you wish me to get mother and father or do you wish to keep throwing that knife?”

“Just leave, Sansa. I want to be alone.” I mumbled throwing the knife cursing under my breath. “Seven hells!” By that point she had left so I snatched my brown cloak from the bed sneaking through the castle and to the stables. Saddling my horse I bolted out into the gods woods feeling the cold wind run through my hair. Reaching the family tree I dismount my horse sitting underneath it just letting the cold surround me.

About an hour later I heard another horse riding up to me so I lifted my head from my knee's sniffing where I saw father climbing down from his horse. “Sansa told me you were throwing knives like a mad man. Care to tell me what happened honey. Was it one of the royals here?”

“No…we’ll he isn’t here.” I wiped under my nose laying my head on his shoulder.

“Who is it then?” Father asked not following me.

Shifting my weight so I was facing him head on he scooted over looking down at me. He had the look that he had whenever any of his children got hurt. The comforting look of a father. “Tywin Lannister…I heard you and mother talking with the king a few hours ago. Saying that I am betrothed to marry one of his sons. I thought you said I wouldn’t marry until you found someone who is worthy of me?”

“Oh sweetheart you don’t have to worry. No deal has been set in stone. We are supposed to head to Kings Landing for me to become Hand of the King. But you won’t be married off not yet. I promise you little dragon.” He tucks hair behind my ear using the nickname that was specifically for me.

Wrapping my arms around him he hugs me gently into his chest. Then we got to our feet climbing back on our horses. “I love you, Ned - uh dad.”

He kisses my head, sending me up to my room. “I love you too.”

The next morning was pretty hush considering the king had asked my father to be his hand. Plus Sansa was fusing over her future wedding to the prince. I didn’t see what all the fuss was about. Pulling the hood of my cloak down I promised Arya that we would play with the swords near where the servants washed clothes. “So what is our first lesson?” The young girl asked me, almost bouncing off the walls.

“The first lesson is which one do you want?” Holding out two toy swords out to her she picked the smaller one. Getting in a fighting stance I raised my sword nodding towards her. “You go first.”

She ran forward crying but I raised my sword hitting hers almost out of her hands. Pushing her back I remembered a tip Robb had given me when we first trained together. “Don’t make a sound before you attack. That way your opponent doesn’t know you’re coming.”

I raised my sword holding it both in my hands then rushing forward to her but she raised hers hitting our swords together. Arya and I went back and forth like this for a few times until I spun my back to her and she accidentally tripped me with her weapon. She then pointed the tip to my throat, smiling bright. “Impressive young Stark girl. Did you teach her that?”

Wiping my head around I recognized the voice that broke through the gods' wood. Holding myself up on my elbows with my hair falling in front of my eyes. Honestly a tousled mess of curls at this moment. “Jaime, what in the realm are you doing out here. Nobody knows about this place except us?”

“I followed the tracks in the snow. It wasn’t that hard to figure out. Here let me help you.” He walked up to us wearing a tan tunic and trousers. Sword hanging from the holder on his hip. With his right hand extending down to me.

Eyeing his hand I grabbed his wrist allowing him to pull me up. But I scream tripping over my own sword at my feet falling into his chest. Jaime instantly secured his arms around my small waist holding me close to his chest. “Easy now. I’ve got you…”

“Uh thanks,” I croaked out, moving my eyes up to him slowly. I could feel his breath on my face and he was shivering a little under my touch obviously not built for the winters.

Jaime moved his head closer to whisper in my ear. “If we were alone I could have given you a private lesson. I can assure you, you wouldn’t regret it.” Bending my head down my cheeks turned as red as a tomato at his words not expecting him to say something here.

“Are you two going to kiss? Ewww!” Arya made a look of disgust causing me to finally come to my senses and push myself away from the lion.

Tucking hair behind my ear Jaime just smirked making me blush even redder. Kicking myself mentally in the head I told myself since I was nine that I wouldn’t fall for someone just by their looks. There should be more to a person than just that. “Cadence, Arya. There you are. Something’s happened.” I saw Jon Snow rushing our direction clearly pausing when he saw Jaime with us. “Ser Jaime…”

“Jon, hey you said there’s news. What about?” Snapping my fingers I pull him back to focus on me.

He shakes his head causing his black curls to shuffle around on his head. He was taken back, seeing us with a knight. “Bran…he fell from..the tower. And….the…the king…he wants to see all of us.”

“What could he want. Can’t we finish our lesson first?” Arya begged me with her hands clinging onto my tunic. I hated to tell the girl no but I took her hand in mine and the four of us headed back to the castle.

Entering one of the main rooms in the castle I saw the king and queen sitting on my father’s throne. My mother is standing beside Sansa and my father. Breaking through the crowd I whispered in his ear, completely confused. “Father, what is happening?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged his shoulders, glancing over his shoulder to me.

Tonight was supposed to be our last night in Winterfell. Before my sisters and I followed our father to the city. So if the king of the seven kingdoms was requesting an audience it probably wasn’t good. Turning my head back towards the king, Jaime was now standing behind leaning against the wall. With his hand rested on his sword. “I thought it was best to be brought into the room that Lord Eddard Stark has accepted to become the Hand of the King. But that is not the only announcement I have. Tywin Lannister has requested that I renounce Ser Jaime of his kingsguard vows and I accepted-“

“Seven hells, you lied to me!” Shouting at my father with tears in my eyes I cut the king off not caring if it upset his grace.

The queen fought back as well, clearly not liking the sound of it for some reason to which I didn’t understand why yet. “You can’t do that. He took a vow and he can’t break it!”

“Be quiet, woman. I am the king and I have the power to do so.” Robert Baraethon raised his tone to his wife rising to his feet. Jaime wouldn’t or maybe couldn't look my direction I couldn’t exactly tell for sure. “Cadence Stark and Jaime Lannister will be wed in a few short days.”

Clutching the hand of the sword on my hip I felt tears slipping down my cheeks before I turned on my heels breaking for the doors hearing my father’s voice calling out for me. “Cadence!”

Comments really appreciated ❤️

45 notes · View notes

messers-moony · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty Face | S.B

Paring: Young!Sirius Black X Fem!Reader

Summary: Sirius takes his girlfriend to his family home and Walburga takes out all her pent up jealousy out on her.

Inspiration: Click

Walburga Black didn’t have the life every girl dreamed about. She always dreamed of an extravagant wedding with the man of her dreams. Perhaps a tall man with a sweet personality. One to take care of her when she had a bad day at work. But that was not the life she got.

Instead, Walburga Black had an arranged marriage with her cousin Orion. The wedding was extravagant, but she definitely wasn’t marrying the man of her dreams. Sure he was tall, with dark hair and gleaming grey eyes, but he wasn’t sweet. He was quite the opposite. He had a tongue of silver, and his brutal words brought a knife to her heart.

Waking up to Orion was like waking up on Christmas Day alone. You can feel it; it’s so close, but yet it’s never quite right. The feeling of loneliness is there, and it never fades. Walburga was beautiful, or at least she thought so. Beautiful thick raven hair and eyes bluer than the sky, cheeks full and colored. If she was this beautiful, then why did she deserve this cruel of a fate.

Pressure is the worst motivator. Walburga’s mother - Irma - pushed her and Orion to have children before she couldn’t carry them. Irma wanted grandchildren, and Walburga needed to produce an heir before; for some reason, she couldn’t. The Black family name needed to continue and get passed down.

As a result of Orion and Walburga’s parent's pressure, she got pregnant with their first child. She hated this. She hated knowing that this child would grow up without a loving parental relationship. Orion and Walburga couldn’t love each other. They just couldn’t. But she wished that for her unborn child, they could.

After much debate, they decided to name him Sirius Orion Black the Third. Sirius was the brightest star in the Canis Major - the dog constellation. His middle name was a regular hand-me-down. Most boys got their middle name from their fathers first, and most girls got theirs from their mothers first.

Sirius was the most beautiful baby boy. Maybe she was biased, but she thought he was gorgeous. His skin was beautiful porcelain, and his eyes were so bright, energetic, and full of life. Something Walburga used to have but no longer did. He was her pride and joy—his little giggles and his voice when he began to talk. Sirius Black would be her everything - her one reason.

But eventually, that one reason would become two. She was pregnant again. While her first pregnancy, she felt entirely alone. Now she had Sirius, and he was so sweet. During days where Walburga didn’t feel like getting out of bed, leaving Orion to take care of him, Sirius would sneak away to spend time with his momma. Sirius would crawl to the side of the bed and poke her until she held him in her arms.

He would lay on his side and snuggle his back into her chest. Walburga would place her hand on his stomach, placing the covers over them both. She couldn’t believe how lucky she got. Orion was god awful, but her son was everything.

Nine months later, Regulus Arcturus Black. His first name was a star in the Leo constellation, while his middle name was inherited from his Grandfather. The same pale skin as Sirius and sparkling silver eyes. She now had two reasons to continue. Her little boys, till the end.

It wasn’t until both boys were five when Irma had a talk with Walburga about how they should be raised. Personally, Walburga thought they were the perfect little boys. Okay, sometimes they would break something, but that was normal, wasn’t it? They were boys, and they cause a ruckus. Sirius had tuffs of straight black raven hair. Regulus’ hair was wavier but still held the dark color.

Of course, they knew their manners. Saying titles such as ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir,’ but apparently, that wasn’t enough in Irma’s eyes. They needed to sit straight, only speak when spoken to, begin their studies and stop being childish. But they were children. They’re supposed to be children.

Irma did the cruelest thing when this was brought up by saying that if Walburga didn’t straighten her boys up, they’d be banned from the Noble House of Black. So she tried. But Sirius and Regulus were already so in their roots that trying to get them to stop was damn near impossible. So she resulted in using spells as punishments.

By the age of seven, they were terrified of their mother. Walburga thought that Orion’s words could hurt her, but nothing hurt more than seeing her boys cower at the sight of her. She so badly wanted to cup their cheeks and give them kisses all over. She tried to baby them. She wanted them to have a childhood. But that couldn’t happen when you’re in the Noble House of Black.

So why did she feel this way? Was it envy? Was it jealousy? Why did she hate it when Sirius brought his girlfriend home?

Walburga couldn’t deny it. The girl was gorgeous. Her hair was silky smooth, rid of all tangles. Eyes of hypnotizing e/c. She seemed shy but still managed to be formal—greetings with the titles of ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir.’

Sirius was fourteen, him getting a girlfriend was bound to happen. He only got more good-looking as he grew up. His hair got longer, and his face became more defined. Not to mention how tall he got. He was taller than Walburga now. Her baby boy, who used to snuggle with her, was no longer such a baby. Of course, Walburga had scolded him for being in Gryffindor, but in reality, she was proud of him.

This girl - Y/n - was in Slytherin. She wasn’t a pureblood, in fact, she was a half-blood. But regardless, she was a Slytherin. Perhaps that could do some good for Sirius. Maybe Walburga wouldn’t have to ban him from the family-like Irma kept telling her to. Even as an old woman, she was a pain in the ass.

They all made it to the dining room, and Sirius pulled out Y/n’s chair, gently pushing her in. It made Walburga grit her teeth. Why couldn’t Orion show some decency when around guests? Why didn’t Orion do that? Is this what she’s been missing the entire time? She tried to swallow it as they began eating.

Y/n wiped her mouth with her napkin, “Thank you, Mrs. and Mr. Black, for this meal. It’s terrific.”

Walburga did nothing to acknowledge her. It dampened Y/n’s mood a tad, not knowing what she had done to tick them off. Sirius reached his hand under the table, intertwining their fingers together. With his thumb, he drew hearts and smiled wildly. Their love made Walburga sick to see her son with that dopey smile on his face.

Regulus made conversation first after minutes of the awful silence, “So, Y/n, I saw you talking with Pandora and Marlene before the break. Are you guys friends?”

“Mhm.” Y/n nodded, “Pandora is so sweet. She’s astute too.”

“Well, she is in Ravenclaw, makes sense.” Regulus shrugged, “What about Marlene?”

“Oh, well, we practice Quidditch together even if we’re on opposing teams.” Y/n answered, “Normally, someone else will join us like James or Nick, so Marlene throws the Bludgers at us while we throw the Quaffle around. It helps us learn how to dodge.”

Regulus had stars in his eyes, “That’s brilliant!”

“Thanks. You can always join us if you’d like.”

“I’d love to.”

Y/n smiled warmly at him as Walburga spoke up for the first time that night, “So, you and your friends hang out often?” Her tone sounded condescending.

“We do.” Walburga gritted her teeth, “I hang out with Leia the most, though. She’s been with me since the first year.”

“You guys must go out every night.”

She chuckled, “No, ma’am. Most of the time, Leia and I study. Sometimes Sirius and I sneak out to Hogsmeade, though.”

Sirius smiled as Y/n nudged him with her shoulder, gently kissing the top of her head, “You guys don’t have a care in the world, do you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re ruining the Black family name.” Walburga snapped, “All you have is a pretty face. You’re too happy and pretty for this family.”

Sirius tightened his grip on Y/n’s hand, “You shouldn’t get to choose who you marry. You’re in Slytherin. You get an arranged marriage.”

“Mum, I think that’s-“

“No!” She yelled, and both boys flinched, “You’re so pretty, aren’t you, doll? That doesn’t even matter in the grand scheme of things.”

“Looks mean nothing.” Walburga growled, “One day, Sirius will find better, and he’ll cheat on you because that’s all he’s ever seen.”

Sirius stood up abruptly, “That’s enough!”

“Walburga!” Orion shouted, and they turned to him, “Leave the girl alone.”

Walburga hmphed and sat back down in her seat. Y/n was flabbergasted, trying to digest everything that had just been said to her. Sirius was glaring daggers at his mother. That was improper and awful behavior. He wished that Y/n didn’t have to witness it. After dinner was over, they went up to Sirius’ room, where he packed a bag of some stuff, and they left to go to Y/n’s house.

Sirius had met Y/n’s parents prior, and they were so kind to him. It’s where he usually went over winter and Easter break. That night hon of them had gotten ready for bed. Sirius was in a hoodie and sweatpants. Y/n was wearing his Quidditch jersey and shorts.

Both of them slipped under the comforter of Y/n’s bed, and Sirius’ arms went around her waist, pulling her back close to his chest, “I’m sorry for earlier.”

“It’s not your fault, Siri.” Y/n rubbed his hands, “You told me it was a bad idea, but I insisted anyway.”

“That’s because it’s normal to meet the parents.” Sirius sighed, “Mine just aren’t normal.”

Y/n turned to face him; his face looked crestfallen; she cupped his cheek, “Your parents were forced together. There was never any love in their marriage. That’s what makes them different. I think your mum saw us together and was jealous.”

“Jealous?”

“Has your dad ever pulled out a chair for her?”

Sirius shook his head.

“Has he ever held your mum’s hand?”

Another shake.

“Kissed her?”

“Not by choice.”

“She’s jealous because you do all those things for me. You’re a gentleman, and she hates that.” Y/n replied, “She wanted a man like you to love her, but she never got that.”

Sirius kissed her palm, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Y/n kissed his forehead, pulling his head to her chest, “I promise I’ll love you till the end.”

He kissed her neck in thanks, “Get some rest, puppy.”

1K notes · View notes

ultraintrovertedgryffindor · 4 years ago

Note

Omg I have an angsty request that I’m sure is going to rip my heart out and light it on fire. It’s a super long and specific request so sorry if I get carried away:

Okay so reader had an unspoken thing in the glade with Gally but then he “died” so over the course of the events of scorch trials she got closer with newt and they start their own unspoken thing. But then in the death cure, newt (realizing he has the flare) starts encouraging her to reconcile with gally because he knows that he’s gonna die and gally will take care of her? But she’s confused on who she loves but kinda clings to what she has with newt because he needs her. And she’s just heart b r o k e n over newt dying but gally helps put her pieces back together in the safe haven and eventually they have their fluffy first time together?

Thanks!

*Fanfare* *Triumphant Music* I finally finished this one! Sorry it took a while, I really wanted this to be perfect. But I think I'm quite happy with how this one turned out! I hope you like it too, sweet Anon. Btw, I know you wanted smut, but I just didn't think it would fit with this one. Sorry, maybe on the next one!

Over 5.2k words, so strap in for a long one y'all

Possible Trigger Warning: Self Harm

~~~~~~~~~~

During your time in the Glade, you were practically attached at the hip with Gally.

He was your best friend, your first go to whenever you had any issues, and you were the same to him.

After his supposed death, you felt a void in your soul. You took on a nihilistic attitude, nothing in life making sense anymore. You didn't care about what happened to you or around you, you wished you had died with Gally, the idea of it being welcomed with open arms.

The thought of dying brought no anxiety, no dread. Even the thought of dying painfully didn't scare you, you wanted it. Everyday you thought about that spear going through Gally's chest, wanting to feel what he must've felt. You wanted to feel the same pain and fear, you wanted to feel like you were dying too.

No rational side of you could explain why you felt this way. Perhaps, if you felt the same pain he felt, maybe it would give some sort of closure. Maybe it would make you feel like you were still close to him, even in death.

It wasn't too long before you decided to act on those feelings. You had been only a knife to your chest, right where your heart was, hyping yourself up to push the blade into your skin.

You didn't want to kill yourself, no. You wanted your death to be natural, not forced. You'd suffer your own existence until your time eventually came like it did for everyone else. But Newt didn't know this when he happened upon you that night, just a couple centimeters of a blade shredding its way into your skin.

Newt panicked, immediately stopping your from hurting yourself, his heart racing at the thought of being too late. But thankfully, he wasn't.

You tried to seem somewhat normal, but the laughter bubbling from your chest couldn't be withheld, making Newt fear that you had lost your mind. He wasn't too far off...

He knew how much Gally's death impacted you, he knew you were in pain every second of every day, but he never thought you'd go so far as hurting yourself. He just silently patched you up, fearing anything he would say from a good place would only upset you further.

Eventually, you explained why you had done what you did. It obviously didn't sit right with Newt. He wasn't particularly close with Gally back in the Glade, but he knew well enough that he wouldn't want you to be living with this mindset.

After a while in the Scorch, you stuck by Newt the most and you started to get better. You felt so empty after Gally's death, leaving a hole in your heart. Newt helped lead you out of that void, trying his best to fit that empty space. But you knew nobody could replace Gally, not even Newt. You knew that space could never be filled, but just seeing Newt try to be that person for you, it was too endearing not to pull at what heartstrings you had left.

Then the complications happened, so much time spent believing that Gally was dead came crashing down as he stood in front of you all, very much not dead.

You thought it had to be a dream, could he really be here?

It was strange. You thought you'd run to him, leap into his arms and kiss all over his face, but you didn't. You stood next to your friends awkwardly as he took off his gas mask. To think you'd be more outwardly happy that someone you cared about was still alive. But you couldn't help the guilt that you felt when Gally said that they left him to die. Sure, it might've not been specifically directed to you, but you felt the sharp sting of his words resonate through you. It almost felt like a strong invisible force hit your funny bone, the volt of uncomfortable aching pain spreading throughout your entire body and leaving you in a breathless agony.

For Gally, he was overjoyed to see you alive and well. He so badly wanted to go to you, feel you in his arms again. But he knew he couldn't, how could he after how he treated everyone back in the Glade?

He didn't remember a lot, but he knew he killed Chuck. The blurry memories of that day, he saw it every night in his dreams. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, the sudden pain in his chest and not being able to breathe. He saw Chuck laying beside him, his expressionless eyes trained on the ceiling, unmoving. His chest wasn't rising and falling like it should've been, blood seeping through his layers of clothing. The most purest soul Gally ever met was dead, and it was his fault.

Gally couldn't even bring himself to look in your direction, he was too disgusted with himself.

Thomas punching Gally wasn't a big shock, he knew he deserved it. But Newt quickly came to his rescue, stopping Thomas from acting out irrationally. But a part of Gally didn't want the Greenie to be stopped. Being punched wasn't something he enjoyed, but Gally would willingly endure whatever punishment that would be inflicted and he'd accept that he deserved it. But nothing he could do or say would bring Chuck back...

When Gally did finally force himself to look at you, he wish he hadn't. You looked indifferent, which never happened with you. He instantly thought that you hated him as much as Thomas did, but then again, he deserved it.

It was really tough for Gally to keep a conversation with everyone while he took them to see Lawrence, especially when he noticed how close you stuck by Newt. But, he supposed it was only natural to find another person to be close to when you've lost someone else, he still couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. He hated how good you and Newt looked together, you seemed...happy.

At the moment, you weren't even close to happy; you were confused, and angry.

It sounded terrible, but a part of you was angry that Gally was actually still alive. You had to go through the mourning process, and you hadn't even finished it and now all of a sudden, he was alive all this time. It put your emotions on haywire, the most you felt was confusion, and if someone would've told you what you were experiencing was some sort of a twisted dream, you would believe them. But your feet were too sore and sunburn too irritating for this all to be a dream.

You sensed Newt's eyes trained on you, you knew he was probably worried, but you couldn't decide what for. Was he worried that you'd go back to Gally? Was he worried you'd replace him now that he was still alive? Knowing Newt, he probably just wanted to talk to you, but even then, you would have no idea what to say. What do people feel or say in situations like this? You were certain not everyone has to go through the loss of a loved one just to find out that they weren't gone, right?

It was late, and you were exhausted, as was everyone else; but you stayed awake, attempting to sleep only causing you to toss and turn, and eventually giving up. But someone else was awake, you were shocked to see that it was Newt. "What're doing awake?" He asked, taking a seat next to you.

"Could ask you the same thing." You replied, only getting a look from Newt in response. "Couldn't sleep." You sighed, caving in to his concerned expression.

"I know it's not my place," Newt started, wringing his hands together nervously, "but, you haven't said a word to Gally." You knew he was going to bring that up, you had that feeling as soon as he saw you were still awake. "I know it was a shock, to all of us. But I thought it'd effect you the most, to be quite honest. You two were pretty close..."

You shrugged weakly, shaking your head. "I don't know what to tell you. Was I supposed to react a certain way? Was I supposed to drop to my knees and burst into tears or something?"

Newt grimaced. "No...of course you're not supposed to act a certain way. It's just a bit strange to me that you haven't tried to speak to him at all."

"I don't even know what I'd say to him." You chuckled bitterly.

"I know you and Gally had something, something special. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. You were absolutely gutted after what happened, this is a chance to reconnect. You care about him, a lot."

"Hey, that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I care about you a lot too."

Newt smiled weakly. "I know, but I really think you should go and talk to him."

You could tell he was being sincere, but you couldn't understand why. You two had grown close over the past several months, so why would he want you to reconnect with someone you used to be even closer with? You weren't really given the time to think over it more before Newt was quickly encouraging you to speak with Gally, telling you where his room was, somehow knowing this conversation would happen and finding out beforehand.

Just a few moments later, you found yourself outside of Gally's door, fist extended out to hover over the worn wood, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock. Thinking back to how hard you tried to avoid Gally when he came back, what if he thought you hated him? What if he didn't want to talk to you?

But before you could chicken out, you forced yourself to knock on Gally's door without thinking, soon hearing the thud of footsteps nearing. With bated breath, you waited for the door to open, anxiety gripping your mind so intensely that it almost triggered your fight or flight response. But Gally's almost hopeful and shocked expression when he saw you waiting relaxed you a little bit. "...hi." Gally voiced, the nervous and confused tone to his voice not going unnoticed by you.

"Hi." You replied, your voice probably just as shaky and nervous as his.

"Uh, come in." He said quickly, moving out of the doorframe, his hands slightly shaking when he motioned you to enter his room.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, so fast and hard that you were worried Gally would be able to hear it. Your hands were shaking, as well as your legs as you walked into his room, it was a miracle you didn't collapse right then and there. You tried not to jump as you heard the click of his door closing, you tried to take deep calming breaths before Gally turned to face you, the two of you almost on complete opposite sides of the room just standing awkwardly.

You stared at Gally, your gaze running up and down his body but ultimately stopping to stare at his chest. Tears quickly came to your eyes as you saw how healthy he looked, like a spear wasn't embedded in his chest months ago. You couldn't stop the flow of whimpers that came from your throat, putting your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. You felt your face start to burn as you felt Gally's arms wrap around you as soon as you started to cry, but his warmth comforting you only caused you to let out more tears.

You never thought you'd be in his arms again.

Gally stood there silently, holding you and just trying to soothe you as best he could. In the back of his mind, he was astonished that you even let him come near you, you had avoided him altogether up until this moment. But the whimpers he heard coming from you, seeing the tears spilling from your eyes, he instinctively went to hug you. He also couldn't ignore the guilt he felt, thinking that you were crying because of him. He hated it. But you hugged him back tightly, burying your face in his chest and trying to stifle your sobs.

"You're here..." You cried softly, "you're really here..."

Gally's lip trembled, tears of his own brimming his eyes at how much pain you must've been in thinking he was dead all this time, your voice giving away your feelings. He exhaled shakily, "I am here." He placed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm here."

For a few minutes, you and Gally just held each other silently. You both needed this, understanding how badly you missed one another. Soon, you were able to calm yourself, but you still didn't pull away. Gally only pulled away slightly so he could see your face, frowning when he saw your eyes were puffy and tearstained. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. "What happened wasn't your fault, Gally." You said genuinely. No matter how much pain and anger you felt about what happened to Chuck, you never once blamed him. You knew W.C.K.D. killed him, and every other Glader who died. But Gally's frown told you everything you needed to know; he still blamed himself.

"I should've gone with you." He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "How can you even stand the sight of me?"

"Because I know you never would've killed anyone if you weren't stung, especially Chuck."

Hearing Chuck's name out loud made tears brim Gally's eyes once more, tightening his fists in anger at himself. "Chuck deserved so much better...he wasn't supposed to die..." He cried, causing you to pull him back into your embrace, rubbing his back while trying to not to cry again.

"None of us deserved to get experimented on."

Eventually, you lead Gally to sit next to you on his bed, holding his hand. It felt so right to be sitting there with Gally, you missed him so much that you despised ever feeling even the slightest bit of anger when you first saw that Gally was alive. But one emotion did not go away, you still felt confused.

While sitting there with Gally, you couldn't help but think about Newt. He was so adamant about you reconciling with Gally, was he hoping that something would happen between you two? You truly cared a lot about Newt, and you knew he felt the same way, so you couldn't understand why he was acting this way.

You sighed softly when you started to feel sleepy, standing up slowly. "I should probably head back."

Gally quickly stood up with you. "Uh, you could stay here if you want?" He stammered, causing you to smile a little.

"That's okay. I already had a sleeping bag set up for me downstairs, so..."

Gally tried to hide his disappointed frown, choosing to walk up to you until you two were face to face. Maybe it was too soon, but ever since he saw you, Gally had the strongest urge to place his lips on yours. He missed your soft lips that he only had the privilege of feeling a few times back in the Glade before everything happened. He gently grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your face up and leaning forward slowly.

You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. But before his lips could connect, Newt's face popped up in your mind and you couldn't, you forced yourself to turn away.

You tried not to look at Gally's face, knowing that he'd probably look like a kicked puppy. You couldn't, it would be too painful. "It's Newt." Gally frowned, taking a step back.

Your eyes widened, finally taking a glance over to him to indeed see that his expression was one of disappointment and sadness. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to." Gally interrupted. "I see the way you look at him...it's how you used to look at me." You stayed silent, a feeling of guilt washing over you. "I don't blame you, Y/n, for finding someone else. I'd never expect you to grieve over me forever, that's too selfish."

Hearing this, you had a terrifying thought that you needed to voice out loud. "Did you ever find someone else?" You asked nervously, afraid of his answer.

"No..." He smiled weakly, "No one that could ever compare to you."

You hated that you felt relieved, you were the one who seemed to be selfish. But, you couldn't just drop what you had with Newt now that Gally's still alive. You couldn't say anything else, what could you say to that?

"You should get some sleep." Gally said, opening his door and motioning you to get out.

"Gally..." You whispered.

"Please. Just...we have a busy day tomorrow."

You sighed. You couldn't argue with him.

Newt watched you walk back downstairs, getting into your sleeping bag with a very prominent frown. Doesn't seem like it went well, he thought. He felt relieved and frustrated at the same time. Newt really cared for you, he could even go as far as saying he loved you, but he needed you and Gally to get back together, or become friends again at least.

It wasn't too long ago that Newt found out he had the Flare. He saw the black and purple veins slowly travelling up his arm, and the pain, the pain was the worst part. You had already gotten close to him, so he was heartbroken to know that you'd just lose another person you cared for. After Gally, he knew you wouldn't be able to handle another loss. So when Gally showed up out of the blue, it was like a miracle, Newt's prayers had been answered.

Newt felt jealousy, of course, he wanted to stay with you. He didn't want Gally to take you from him, but what use would he be when he was dead or a Crank? He tried not to be angry with you, it wasn't your fault how you were feeling, but he needed to know you'd be okay when he was gone.

Newt did try talking to you about it, but you always changed the subject or simply didn't answer him. Before you all knew it, it was time to start planning Minho's rescue mission. Thomas didn't want to use Teresa, and hearing that only made Newt's anger bubble to the surface.

It wasn't like Newt to lash out like that, he was always so calm and relaxed. Maybe the stress finally got to him, maybe it was something else...

You immediately followed after Newt when he stormed out after yelling at Thomas, not knowing that Gally's sad eyes were following you. You couldn't think of anything else, you just had to know that Newt was okay.

You found Newt on the roof, sitting on the ledge. "Newt?" You asked, concerned. "Are you okay...?" You stepped closer captiously, finally taking a seat next to him.

Newt only smiled bitterly. "No...no, not really."

You sighed, looking out to the horizon, trying to find the right words to say. "We all thought Teresa was our friend...it's okay to be angry."

Newt shook his head. "It's not that."

You furrowed your brows. "Then, why did you lash out at Thomas?"

Newt bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He never wanted you to find out this way. He didn't even want you to know. But after that scene he made, he knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.

Tears came to your eyes as Newt lifted up his jacket sleeve, revealing his discolored arm. You knew what it was immediately, seeing it on every Crank you came across. "No..." You whispered. "No."

"I know I probably shouldn't have kept it from you, but I was scared. I still am."

"We'll fix it!" You quickly said, it sounding more like a plead. "We'll find another cure!"

Newt only gave you a weak smile. "I don't think that's a possibility right now, love. Besides, Minho needs us."

"No, you're not allowed to give up like that, Newt. We'll find something to help you. If Brenda was cured, so can you. Teresa might-"

"Please, Y/n." Newt voiced sharply. "Please...just stop. I don't need false hope."

Before you could say anything else, you heard the roof access door open, Thomas walking up to the two of you. "Y/n, can I, uh, talk to Newt? Alone?"

You looked to Newt, who nodded, signaling for you to leave. You stood up, speed walking inside and down the stairs. The tears kept falling, blurring your vision, and you had no idea what to do. Newt was dying, and there was nothing that you could do about it, and it didn't seem like he was too eager to try and find a cure. You hoped Thomas could talk some sense into him. But in that moment, your feet subconsciously took you to Gally's little apartment. You stood in front of the door in tears, wishing that you didn't feel the urge to find comfort in him when Newt was sick. But, you knocked on the door, quickly placing yourself in Gally's arms as soon as he was in front of you.

Gally didn't know what was wrong, he barely got a good look at your face before you threw yourself at him. But the way you were shaking and whimpering, he knew you were crying, and he didn't have the heart to pull away from you. He walked backwards and shut his door, leading you to sit down on his bed with him. He just held you as you cried, leaning his head down on top of yours until you calmed down. He finally spoke when your cries were just quiet sniffles. "What happened?"

You exhaled a shaky breath, lifting your head to look at Gally. "Newt has the Flare..."

"W-What...?" Had Gally heard that right? Could his mind be playing tricks on him? He just assumed everyone that was in the Glade was immune, that's why they were there, right? But you repeated what you had said, confirming what Gally thought he heard. "I...I'm so sorry..." That's all Gally could say. He wasn't very well spoken in these types of situations, all he could do was bring you back into another hug.

You finally understood why Newt was pushing you to get close to Gally again; he wanted you to be close to someone when he died.

Yet another situation that had you confused. You knew you loved Gally, you always had, he was your best friend. But now you had Newt, he helped you through everything while in the Scorch, helped you try to overcome your grieve and probably saved your life multiple times. How could you possibly make a decision like this?

You and Gally never put a label on what you had in the Glade, and nobody asked either, not even Alby. You both just knew that you cared for one another, that you'd do anything for the other. But as time went on, you felt guilty knowing what you'd ultimately choose. It was always going to be a lose lose for you.

Newt needed you, and you couldn't leave him when he needed you the most.

Gally, deep down, knew what your decision was going to be. You had a big heart. You never would leave anyone behind, even if they were infected. Back in the Glade, Gally wouldn't have hesitated in sacrificing the few to save the many, but you were never like that. You cared about everyone, especially the people who were closest to you. You never were going to give up on Newt, you couldn't now. You would spend as much time with him as possible, what little time he might've had left. And you did, until he took his final breath.

You felt like you were a glass vase that had been shattered, and every time you tried to pick up the pieces, the glass would just cut deeper and deeper into your skin. It felt like life didn't want you to be put back together. Nothing felt real. Everything that happened in the Last City felt like a fever dream. You hoped that one day you'd wake up and you'd be back in the Glade, everyone was still alive. Maybe if you could go back in time, maybe you could save everyone, maybe you could've convinced Gally to listen to Thomas, maybe you could've held off Newt a bit longer in time for Brenda to give him the cure.

A lot of maybe's, a lot of hopes and prayers, never answered.

Now in the Safe Haven, you felt anything but safe.

You didn't talk to anyone for awhile, not even Gally. You had nothing to say, and you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone. So, you isolated yourself. And then a couple weeks later, you finally felt everything bubble to the surface.

Sitting down somewhere along the coastline, not too close to the water, but close enough that you could feel the salty breeze of the waves hit you gently as the evening cooled when the sun started to go set.

You tucked yourself up into a ball, your knees as close as you could get them to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. And, you cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. The ugly kind of crying. Your tears weren't coming out one eye at a time in a perfectly straight line down your face like in the movies, you weren't making quiet sniffles or whimpers, you were full on sobbing. Tears came out of your eyes so fast that you could barely make out the sun on the horizon, your shirt sleeves were most definitely covered in snot and whatever salty tears it had the chance to catch. Your throat felt like it was being torn apart by how intense your sobs were. The sobs sounded more like you were having a coughing fit, one of those phlegmy hacking coughs that made you feel like you were going to vomit.

You knew you most likely weren't far enough away from the camp to quiet your weeping, and you knew you were just embarrassing yourself, arranging for yourself to be completely humiliated the next morning when you had to face everybody. But in the moment, you couldn't care less. You loss someone so important to you, it felt like losing Gally all over again. But you knew this time, it was final. No surprise resurrections this time. You felt completely, and utterly, alone.

But you never were.

You felt so dissociated and detached from yourself, the wails of grief too much for your body to handle. You couldn't feel anything around you, not the warmth of the sand, not the slight chill breeze, not even Gally's arms wrapped around you tightly. You didn't realize until you passed out from exhaustion, waking up the next morning in a bed that wasn't yours, and a hut that wasn't yours.

Your vision was still a little bit blurry, all the tears from the night previous crusting to the creases around your eyes, making it a bit of a challenge opening them all the way. But, your other sense were intact enough to tell you that bacon and eggs were next to you on a bedside table. You hadn't eaten the day before, so it was mostly a primal reaction to quickly take the plate and gobble up the food.

You still had to rely on context clues to figure out where you were in the camp. As much as your eyes irritated you, they could now finally work once you were wide awake. You probably should've known immediately who's hut it was, but seeing that familiar grey knitted hoodie settled ungracefully over the backrest of a chair, you knew it was Gally's.

You blushed quickly after that realization. How did he know where you were, and how much did he see? The thought of him seeing you in such a state made you cringe. But what was more horrifying was that Gally was right outside the room, waiting for you to wake up. "Hey..." He voiced, his eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes full of sadness.

You had to look away, the heat rushing to your face making you feel like you were going to pass out again. "Hi." You croaked, your vocal cords still sore and raw.

Gally shifted his weight nervously, taking a step closer to you. "I'm sorry, for bringing you here...I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself." You snapped you gaze back to him in confusion, him quickly blushing, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, Newt told me about what you did to yourself after...after the Maze."

You self-consciously rubbed the spot on your chest where a big scar still remained. "I wasn't trying to...you know, kill myself or anything."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He said softly, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "I just...I didn't know what I was thinking."

Gally gently grabbed ahold of your hand, making you uncross your arms, letting his warm hand take yours. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Newt should be here with the rest of us. He was a good person."

You nodded as tears came to your eyes again, burning enough to make you whimper, and you leaned your head against Gally's shoulder. "I miss him so much." You cried.

Eventually, you and Gally became close again. He was always there for you. Whenever you had nightmares, whenever you were lonely, whenever you needed anything, Gally would always be there. You started to feel your relationship had almost gotten back to the point where it was in the Glade, it had been almost a year, but you still felt it was too early to be moving on. A part of you didn't want to move on, but you knew that's not what Newt wanted either.

You didn't read the note Newt wrote to you when Thomas first gave it to you. The grief was still too near, and you didn't know if you could handle it. But a couple months after your breakdown, you finally read it. Newt loved you, he had always loved you. And he wanted you to be happy, he didn't want you to be sad that he was gone, even though he knew it would be impossible. But he knew you would be okay, he knew Gally would protect you no matter what. Reading his note was part of the reason you knew it would be okay to be with Gally, it just took you some time.

One day, you and Gally were taking a break from working, just sitting near the forest tree line, and you did it; you kissed him, and you couldn't stop, you didn't want to stop. And you didn't, and neither did Gally.

After that, it was almost impossible to spend any time away from each other.

You never thought you'd smile again, but Gally always found a way. He made you so happy, and it made you cry one night when you finally realized that you were happy, and you knew somewhere out there, it made Newt happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cries in Español

#the maze runner #the maze runner imagine #newt x reader #newt imagine #tmr newt #tmr gally #gally imagine #gally x reader #gally

258 notes · View notes

needleandhammer · 4 years ago

Text

From Simmer to Score

Pairing: Soft!Curtis Everett x Reader

Summary: Curtis is good with his hands. And other stuff.

Warnings: 18+ only, explicit, smut, oral sex, penetration, fingering, dub con breeding, unprotected sex, breeding kink sort of, size kink, petite!reader, Curtis' fingers

Word count: 4k

A/N: This doesn't really fit the prompt i chose from @stargazingfangirl18 's 5k Soft Dark Challenge: "You hire a local handyman to help you with a few home projects." But the prompt still inspired this. I wanted to take the prompt somewhere more explicitly dark but once again my contribution to this challenge turned marshmallow soft. This is an au, non-apocalypse au, normal life au, idk. Just self-indulgent. Also, it was a struggle finding a gif of clean Curtis. Because he's clean in this and not living on a train, i swear.

“Try again. Very good. Let’s have you run through the exercises and then we’ll take a look at the new homework."

At your smile, the little girl nods and quickly turns to concentrate on coordinating her footwork on the pedals of your old Altenberg while reading the notes in front of her.

You back away, heading to the kitchen for some iced tea. You nearly forget your other guest who sits at the table.

This is the third time he’s accompanied Wendy for her lessons. For a man of his size, Curtis makes no sound except the faint swish of pages turning in his book. Like before, he arrived with Wendy, nodded a greeting at you, waited for your invitation to the kitchen, and then spent the entire hour silently reading.

You pull the fridge door open and pour tea into three glasses. You quietly slide one towards him. Curtis’ eyes flicker up to you, brilliantly blue, and he gives you a low murmur.

“Thanks.”

You’re about to return to Wendy when you hear your name in Curtis’ smooth baritone.

He nods to the notepad left on the table. “I, uh, noticed your reminder to call for maintenance. Something wrong?”

“Oh.” You tidy up the table, sheepish at being caught procrastinating house chores. “Just needed a second look at the water heater. The repair company came by and we tested things out when they were done, but the next day I had no hot water.”

You grimace, thinking of taking another cold shower.

“If you’re okay with it, I can grab my tool bag from my car and take a look,” he says.

You’re not prepared for the offer. “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

He shakes his head, no hesitance. “I don’t mind at all. As long as you don’t.”

“I mean. I-I would really appreciate the help.”

Your time with Wendy ends after you review practice goals with her until her next lesson.

Curtis joins you two. “Hot water is running again.”

Your jaw drops and you skip to the kitchen. Hot water pours out of your faucet. You return, unable to resist grinning widely at him.

“Thank you, Curtis. You’re a lifesaver.”

“Curtis taught my dad everything about fixing houses!” Wendy chirped. He offers her a crooked smile.

“Do you have everything?” you ask your young pupil.

While Wendy thanks you and you help her pack, Curtis watches on with a faint curve to his lips.

“Edgar’s changing over to late shifts for the next couple of months. I’ll probably be driving Wendy to lessons again.”

You nod. “Sounds good. See you both then.”

After they leave, you enjoy a glorious steamy shower and then you settle onto your couch with a plate of leftover grilled veggies and fish.

Reviewing your schedule, you consider taking on one or two more students. It was years ago that you gave private lessons to help pay for college. Nearly a decade of moving between a few jobs, you are now in a quiet suburb working with a team of digital designers. The job allows you to work from home half the week, a flexibility you take great appreciation in. The professional stability encouraged you to return to music and to helping others develop their musical interests.

Wendy is your only student at the moment as you want to ease into taking on this additional responsibility. You smile, recalling your initial meeting with Wendy and her father, Edgar. Her father’s bubbly energy is such a stark contrast to Curtis. Edgar opened up quickly, sharing that he and Wendy’s mother were no longer together, that he would support whatever Wendy wanted to do. There was a perpetually youthful vigor to the room when Edgar was present.

Wendy calls Curtis, Uncle, and his adoration for her is clear. He barely said two words when he was here the first time. It doesn’t bother you. You get the impression Curtis purposely tries to not draw attention to himself, and you can empathize with that preference for tranquility.

_ _ _ _

It’s a windy day, heavy with rain clouds, the next time Wendy and Curtis are over.

“I saw your screen door was down. Planning on replacing it?” Curtis asks when you wrap up with Wendy.

“Nah. I was just going to look up what I would need and try fixing it myself.”

“It’s kind of heavy.”

His tone doesn’t imply any skepticism aimed at you and you’re not offended. You’re used to people calling you ‘small,’ though you’re not small so much as you’re short. You like to think you take up ample space. You also admit strength is not something you have in abundance. Your whole life you relied on family and friends for a lot of literal heavy lifting. But Curtis already helped you out once.

“I could fix it up.”

“I won’t ask you to do that.”

“It’s no bother, really. I’m happy to help out.”

He promises to be quick about it. While he works, Wendy happily practices on your piano.

“I have Oreos,” you announce.

She pauses to grab a cookie. “Thank you so much for letting me practice longer.”

“Of course, dear.”

She chats a bit about her upcoming birthday plans, as children are wont to do.

Curtis pops his head in. “All set. Do you want to take a look?”

You follow him out back. Swinging the screen door on its hinges, you nodded appraisingly.

“I suppose it passes inspection.” You look up with a cheeky smile, pleased to see Curtis’ lips twitching. “Thank you. Really, Curtis. I do wish you’d let me pay you.”

He shakes his head. “It’s nothing. Besides, you’re great with Wendy. I’m grateful for that.”

You can tell he loves Wendy just as much as if he was her father. “In that case, I shall give Wendy her next lesson for free.”

He blinks at you, trailing behind as you make your way inside and calling out to Wendy.

Curtis has resigned himself to a quiet, bare life. He doesn't think he wants anything much. He has Edgar’s loyalty, a result of the brotherhood he formed in his impoverished teen years. They survived together, looked out for each other. Once Wendy came along like a little star burning in a smoggy midnight, Curtis counted himself lucky to witness the little girl growing up. A chance to help nourish one seed.

The first time he arrived with Wendy at your home, Curtis couldn’t help listening in on the entire lesson, making no progress in his book. Your clear voice, your generous encouragement. You, light on your feet moving so swiftly. You, barely reaching his shoulders yet mighty in spirit, curvy and sensuous. Curtis had an urge to lift you in his palms to be stored safely in his pocket.

_ _ _ _

And so things follow. Wendy diligently learning and Curtis primarily accompanying her, taking his place at your kitchen table. You come to enjoy his steady, grounding presence just a couple steps away from you and Wendy.

Now and then, he’ll notice some upkeep you’re doing – a leaky faucet, a box of new light bulbs on your counter – and volunteer his assistance. You are reluctant to put him to work, sure that he spends enough of his days working and doing chores in his own home and besides these are tasks you can handle even if you find them tedious. Curtis is always gentle in his offers, always obtains your permission first. As time goes by and you grow less shy about accepting his help and he grows more comfortable in your space, you realize working with his hands is second nature to Curtis.

It doesn't take long for Curtis to admit to himself he wants to be near you.

Curtis doesn’t meddle. He doesn’t mingle. He doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. He is aware you thrived on your own for a long time, just like him; and like he has Edgar and Wendy, you have a small close-knit group of friends. Lending a hand to you doesn’t count because you are like him.

Maybe this is why he lets his guard down under your roof. There is something kindred in your calm nature that his soul responds to. Under your roof, no silences need to be filled; no pretenses forced upon him. Your invitation to rest is unspoken – he hears it and almost weeps. The more time he spends with you, like two wavelengths in tune, the stronger his urge to insert himself. To fix, or in some way leave his mark on your home. Curtis doesn’t have any interest in widening his social circle. Lending a hand to you didn't count. Until he cannot help it. He doesn’t reach out for you, doesn’t try to prove you’ll curve perfectly within his arms; but he’ll ensure your softness can curl up in a sturdy home and delight in simple pleasures.

One evening, when Edgar works later than usual, you ask if Wendy and Curtis would join you for dinner.

“Nothing fancy. I have some noodle soup and salad. Curtis, can you call Edgar to meet us here?”

Wendy sets the table. Curtis assists with the food.

He’s quick to cup your hand in his when it's nicked with a knife. You can’t help leaning into him as he runs your finger under water, wraps it in clean paper towel. He finishes with the salad, making you sit at the table.

Edgar joins you all, tired but quickly gaining energy with food and a few sips of wine. You are full and warmed by their company. While Edgar cheers on Wendy while she practices from her book, you feel Curtis’ fingers curl over your hand. His thumb brushes over your cut. You share a smile with him.

_ _ _ _

You settle into your little Toyota only to find it won’t start. It stumps you because you never had issues with this car before. You have no experience with car maintenance and don’t know the first thing to check for an engine that won’t wake.

Calling Curtis to see if you can reschedule, he insists that he can swing by to pick you up.

He had called you, his voice almost shy. He wanted to surprise Wendy for her birthday with a piano and asked for your help.

You direct Curtis to the string instruments shop in the city’s downtown area. The two of you are greeted by a sales staff upon entry. When asked, Curtis looks to you, wordless, so you do your best to describe to the salesperson what you're looking for.

There are several options of acoustic and digital instruments. You give little demonstrations on a few pianos that you consider reasonably priced.

“Curtis, check this one out.” Your hold on his sleeve is loose and propels him towards one of the upright Baldwin pianos.

“I think any of these would suit Wendy. The sounds are clear, and they don’t take up too much space. The salesperson said this one is second-hand and it’s in really good shape.” You press a few chords, then look up at Curtis with a smile.

He looks at you, gaze gentle. “I’m not worried about price. I’ll take whatever you recommend.”

That was his general response when you asked his opinion during your time in the shop: he was up for anything you recommended. Other than that, he trailed behind you so that the salesperson assumed you were the primary purchaser. Much like in your house, Curtis seemed to try hard to not draw attention. Oddly, you didn’t think anyone in the same room with him could help noticing him. Even with the dark apparel he favored, Curtis’ reserved nature can't hide all the intensity and strength just thrumming beneath the surface of his tall imposing build.

You convince him to sit beside you on the bench. He’s never played before, but humors you and tries random combinations of thirds with you. You watch his hands – clean, wide, with thick fingers – hover and slide along the keys.

He nudges you.

“Sorry. I was just impressed your sausage fingers are quite nimble.”

A half-hearted glare. “Thank you. For coming with me.”

“If I say you’re welcome, will you take a look at my car when we get back?”

He stays for dinner.

It starts raining and you have to rush out to gather hanging linens. He helps and you both run back inside. You're giddy at his eagerness to assist, resulting in damp clothing on you both.

“Oh, let’s dump it here. I’ll fold it tomorrow.” You are happy to leave the laundry in a pile on an armchair, in too good of a mood to care.

You catch him with his attention on you, a look so soft you have to look away, walk blindly a few steps. His touch is on your arm, turning you around just as you reach the piano.

He dips his head low to press chapped lips to yours, capturing your lips more, closing in to envelope you in his heat.

Curtis’ hands grip your hips with a quick jostle against the piano, prompting a slur of bright notes ringing from the keyboard that you are pressed against. And then he’s hitching you further up and firmly in his arms. His tongue licks against yours. You slant your open mouth, inviting him to taste, to devour you from the inside out. Your legs wrap around his waist like you belong there, tethered to this point in time. There’s no past or future, only Curtis, only feeling safe and real in his arms now now now.

You barely register Curtis moving, tipping you onto the couch cushions to hover over you so close. You can’t remember burning for someone like this. You can’t remember much of anything, focused on Curtis, solid and unyielding between your thighs, muscles buzzing with raw strength.

You want so badly to know more of him. Your hands wander shamelessly under his shirt, sliding up his wide back, grazing under to squeeze appreciatively at his pecs only to be called south by a narrowing of hair that leads you on until you bump his belt buckle.

You’re distracted by the tease of hot kisses he drops along your neck. There’s something sweet, vulnerable in how you allow him access to the delicate skin there. It makes Curtis bury his nose against the crook of your jaw, a long moment for him to whisper something like a prayer, before his tongue swirls and he nibbles your ear lobe. Your high pitched gasp hastens his desire. Your shirt is gone. Your bra untangled from your arms. Your breasts, oh, Curtis takes a mouthful of one fleshy breast, sucking greedily when you moan, breathless and aching now.

You claw at his shirt until it too disappears. You wriggle to help Curtis pull your pants and underwear off. Your legs want to yank him back to you, but he braces himself to allow just a bit more space between you both than before.

“Let me.” It’s almost a growl, and you want to say yes, but you want to kiss him more. You’re clinging by his neck, drinking from his soft lips, until you both part to draw breath.

His hand caresses your cheek, sliding over to slip two fingers into your slack mouth. Your tongue swipes at them, lips close to suck them in, eager to touch and taste any part of him. Jaw tight, Curtis pulls his fingers away and down. Down. His hand spans large over your curves and you hold your breath, grit your teeth. One finger saturated with saliva, sinks into your cunt. You swear you can feel more arousal dripping from you to soak his hand and he adds another finger, drawing short whimpers from you as his fingers withdraw and plunge in. God, you won’t ever tease him about his fingers again because they’re perfect. Agonizing in their quest to undo you.

His voice is husky groans, wanting so bad to feel your oh so tight cunt around his cock. Soon.

He tortures you, adds a third finger. You’re riding them, whimpering as he pumps them in you and parts the digits to stretch you. His weight slides away and you can only grasp at his hair, you’re barely glimpsing his head between your legs before you arch high when his thick wet tongue swirls and licks your folds, dialing up the white hot blooming inside you. His fingers curl just enough inside to press that patch against your pelvis that strings you tight as a bow. Pressing insistently, scratching with finger pads, until you burst and all you can do is chase more of that pulsing pleasure, humping against his face. Your hips quiver while Curtis laps at your slit.

His sucks grow gentle, thumb teasing your bud, helping you come down from the intense high.

You sigh his name.

“I’m here.”

“I want you.”

His arms wind around you, holding you tight while he kisses you. You can’t remember feeling anything better than being cradled like this as Curtis languidly kisses you.

He’s not rushed to move from you, so you cling to him and he loves you for it. Yes, he’s hard, but he wants to savor this. Already high on the sensation of your soft flesh underneath him, your thick thighs tight at his waist, your quiet hums of pleasure the evidence of his thorough work.

He ran from his past, from early years strife with despair, washing away those memories like dust and grime. He thought his life of isolation was one that moved him forward; but he has been stuck all this time.

Seeing you care for Wendy, Curtis realized he wanted that. He wanted what his friend had. He wanted you, and the precious something conceived between two souls that sing for one another. Soon. He’ll make your sweet little body his to protect, to warm through the nights.

_ _ _ _

“Thanks so much for having us for dinner,” Edgar says. He was been watching Wendy run around your humble backyard, chasing butterflies and searching for little frogs. He turns to you with a toothy grin. “And for your help with the gift. Wendy’s going to flip. I’m lucky to have you and Curtis both around.”

Your smile is just as affectionate. “Happy to have you here. Although,” your smile turns sly, “I’m a little disappointed that your special lady friend didn’t join us.”

“Curtis,” Edgar mutters under his breath. Curtis is washing dishes at the sink and pays no mind to any half-hearted curses directed at him.

Your brow arches, urging Edgar to talk as he can't help an embarassed grin.

“Well, she was traveling for work, unfortunately. But I know Wendy doesn’t mind her.”

The girl has whispered to you that Edgar’s girlfriend is beautiful and she wished she would become her new mom; this you keep to yourself, not wishing to embarrass or pressure your friend further.

“I’m happy to hear that.”

Edgar’s eyes slide sideways, quiet for a moment before he jumps out of his seat and heads to the door leading to the backyard. “I’ll just…uh…” He exits, trailing off without finishing his sentence.

You sigh and take another bite of your cake, indulging in the moist chocolate flavor. Glancing up, you find Curtis watching you. His attention is singular, a warm simmer in those bright blue eyes, causing you to freeze except for your tongue that finishes sweeping over your upper lip. His gaze narrows, grew weighty, tracking your tongue as it retreats into your mouth. He pushes away from the counter, steps close until he is able to drop to his knee beside your chair. One strong yank has your seat turning so you face him.

The door creaks open again.

“Well, the sun’s getting low so I think we’ll head home and wind down.” Edgar announces with his daughter close at his side. He has a boyish grin on his face, pulling Wendy towards the front of your house. "Wendy, say good bye.”

“Isn’t Curtis leaving too?”

“Oh, I’m sure he’ll leave when he’s ready.”

“Have a good night, you two,” you say, walking with them to the front. Though Edgar is still cheerfully thanking you for the meal and insisting you stay inside and not see them off.

“You go on and just have a good time, both of you.” He sends a wink your way. You shake your head at him. “Curtis! You be a gentleman now.”

Quick as he can, he has Wendy secured in the car and they are on their way.

“Huh.” You lock the front door before turning to find Curtis. You can tell he wants to roll his eyes at Edgar’s antics. Instead, he closes in on you.

“Are you worried about me not being a gentleman?” he murmurs. His fingers hook under yours loosely.

You smirk. “I’m worried about you being too much of a gentleman.”

That smolder returns to his gaze. For a second, your body shivers, overwhelmed and you side step him, if only for a moment’s relief from the heat of his eyes.

You reach out. He takes your hand.

Once you’re down a layer, he grows even hotter seeing the mesh and lace number you have on. A tantalizing tease with the hard peaks of your nipples veiled in barely-there maroon. Just daring him to unwrap you. So he does.

His mouth leaves a wet trail seeking sensitive spots on your neck, you breasts, your thighs. Even as he moves, he still covers nearly all of your body, his heat and weight drowning you in want.

Your shudder has him grazing his beard up the inside of your thigh so that you arch and plea for his touch. God, all your uninhibited responses spur the blazing hunger in him. Curtis peels the mesh underwear down, impatient for a taste of you. His mouth waters, catching wafts of arousal and then he’s sucking and lapping your wet pussy. His rumbling groan is like a physical nudge that bows your back, and you remain rigid in the air at the sensation of his thick tongue pushing into you. Wide shoulders part your legs, shifting until your thighs rest on vast muscles.

You rock against him, keen at the hard sucks. Two fingers dip into, fucking you and rubbing with a dizzying rhythm that brings you over the edge.

With little effort, he holds up your hips and you feel a pillow slide under you to angle you higher. Then his muscled arms hook under your knees and he finally lines up and rocks forward. The tip of his cock parts your folds. Your breath hitches. His cock slides in, forcing your walls to stretch, to mold tightly to his girth.

“Curtis” – your hand was going point to the little bedside table with condoms.

Instead, you’re gripping a blanket. Gasping as he withdraws and your pussy tries to hold him in.

You mumble against his lips, incoherent. “The…inside..”

And then he feeds you his length again. And again, that delicious, addicting friction.

"Yes, inside," he agrees softly. "Like this."

With every pump, the spark catches and blazes higher. Curtis rises onto his knees, thrusts harder, watching your eyes flutter open and shut. He’s panting with the pretty picture of a needy you. He grips your thighs. As if his life depends on how tight he clutches you. Concentrating hard, his eyes drop low. Fuck. He can see your pussy clench, your puffy outer lips suckling his cock. Curtis swears your little body is refusing to give him up, and you’re wet but your cunt squeezes him so tight he has to drive harder into you to avoid slipping out.

You’re not even aware of your breathy moans, so turned on by his groans, the rough thrusts he gives you. There’s no grinding. Curtis can tell he’s rubbed against your g-spot and he keeps his snapping hips angled just right, one callused thumb circling your clit too lightly. And then your breaths stutter, your legs seize, your back arches. Curtis grits his teeth, keeping the exact same pace, draws out the storm of your pleasure. It’s so consuming, you lose your voice.

Just as you are able to breathe again, able to sense the physical realm around you, Curtis speeds up, bucking hard with low grunts, powering into you.

A high gasp – you feel him flood you. He drops to press his chest to you, still pumping his release into your clenching walls; and it’s too much, his cock merciless within your sensitive channel. He can’t help it, even as your legs start writhing with his unrelenting stimulation, even as he hears your hitched whimpers.

He finally stills. His lips find yours, tongue stroking deep.

Long moments later, his name is gentle, falling from your lips. “We didn’t use protection.”

Curtis nuzzles you, rubs his nose along the planes of your cheeks. Returns to suck your bottom lip. “It’s okay,” he whispers.

There’s a soft frown upon your brow that he kisses, and then scatters more kisses on your face.

“But, what if?”

“I want you. I want everything with you.”

You’re barely able to react as he nips hard at your collarbone and then rolls his hips. He’s half-hard inside you. You’re quickly losing yourself in Curtis, overwhelmed by the combination of his hungry mouth on your skin, unyielding clasp on your thigh. His thrusts persist, pins you in place, lights you up and scorches you. You’re right where he wants you, whining for more more more.

Now with each beat of his heart, Curtis has his mind’s eye on the prize. He’ll have you over and over. And you’ll grow a piece of him inside you. You are the way forward. You are his.

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

A/N: Hurrah, this one felt like it took forever. I blame Curtis. He didn't give himself up to me easily. Let me love you, ya broody boi! Thank you for reading!

#curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #smut #fanfic #siris5ksoftdarkchallenge

411 notes · View notes

dreamwritesimagines · 4 years ago

Text

Burn The Witch 10 - Bad Influence [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s an extra chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Some nights are more hectic than others.

Series Masterlist

Oh hell no.

Tonight was supposed to be a normal night. Boring even. You were supposed to stay at home, watch a cliché horror movie, eat noodles and worry about whether your fake boyfriend, who didn’t know he was your fake boyfriend, was safe and sound on yet another secret mission of his.

Okay, maybe not that normal of a night.

But what was not supposed to happen was your ex-boyfriend showing up out of nowhere at your door.

“I know we left things off a little awkward but that’s no reason to point a gun at me. I was just doing my job.”

“Walk away,” you said, “Go back to the circle of hell they unleashed you from.”

“I heard you’re fake dating Barnes?” he asked, “He looks like your type.”

“I’m going to give you three seconds, then I will start shooting.”

He hissed in a breath,

“Except you can’t,” he stated, “You have to keep your cover. Milkshake waitress having a gun? People would start asking questions.”

“You’re right,” you said through your teeth, “A knife would be much more silent.”

“What’s taking you so—“ Keith called out but he stopped talking as soon as he saw you two. His eyes narrowed almost immediately and he took a step but you threw yourself in front of him, knowing he was about to punch him.

“Keith, I got it.”

“What the fuck are you doing here dickhead?”

“Nice to see you too Keith,” Julian said, “Am I interrupting something? I always kind of wondered what was going on between you two.”

“Ew!”

“If I didn’t want to punch you before, I certainly want to do it now,” Keith stated and you shook your head.

“I got it,” you said, “Really, it’s fine. Go back to the living room.”

He gritted his teeth, “I’ll fuck you up the moment I get you alone, Julian.”

“I can pretend to be scared if you want,” Julian deadpanned as Keith walked back to the living room and you tucked your gun into the waist of your shorts again, crossing your arms.

“So what crossroad is missing its demon right now?” you asked and he tilted his head.

“Y/N.”

“Why are you here?”

“I wanted to say hi,” he said, “Is that so bad?”

“Yeah. Considering the shit you pulled, it is bad.”

“You would’ve done the same thing.”

“No I really wouldn’t,” you said “What, am I supposed to believe you’re here to say hello?”

“Yep,” he said, “It’s customary to meet or re-meet your team leader on a mission.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him before you let out a bitter chuckle.

“Oh fuck no.”

“Hey take it up to the General, I didn’t ask to be put on a mission where you play the honeypot,” he said, “Speaking of, is Barnes head over heels yet? I know how charming you can be when you want to, call it a first hand experience.”

“You’re not a part of my team.”

“I sort of am.”

“It’s my team,” you insisted, “I didn’t give okay to you being on my—“

“I’m afraid that’s above both of our paygrades,” he pointed out, “Nothing you can do about it. Trust me, I won’t enjoy this either.”

“Oh you won’t?”

“You think I will enjoy watching you have a relationship with the goddamn Winter Soldier?” he asked, “As fake as it may be, it will look real.��

“You’re so full of shit.”

“So I take it he doesn’t stay over yet?”

You ran your tongue over your teeth, shaking your head, “You know what?” you said, “I think I’ve had enough of this bullshit for the night. It’s always a displeasure to see you Julian, fuck off now.”

You slammed the door on his face and ran a hand over your face, making your way to the living room.

“General put him on the team?” Keith asked, “Is he serious?”

“Looks like it,” you checked your wristwatch, “I need to talk to him. Do you think I can-”

“Don’t call the General right now,” he interrupted you before you could finish your sentence, “You’re angry, and I get that, so am I but wait until tomorrow.”

“Keith, he can’t be in my team!” you insisted, “He can’t be trusted, you know he can’t!”

“Hey,” he grabbed you by the shoulders, “I know. I know what he’s done, I know he can’t be trusted. But the rest of your team got your back, okay? Especially me and Chloe. What happened at that last mission won’t happen again.”

You threw your hands up, “Ugh, fuck this shit!”

“We got this—” he started but then your phone started vibrating on the couch, making you both turn your heads. You leaned over to check the screen, then snatched the phone off the couch when you saw Bucky’s name flashing.

“I should take this,” you murmured and made your way to the bathroom to close the door behind you. You jumped into the empty bathtub and answered the phone.

“Hi Bucky.”

“Hi darling.”

Even the sound of that was enough to make a small smile warm your face and you closed your eyes, leaning your head back to the bathtub.

“You could’ve just texted, you didn’t have to call.”

“Nah I wanted to hear your voice.”

Your smile widened as you bit down on your lip.

“I wanted to hear your voice too,” you murmured, for once dropping the act, “God, you have no idea what kind of a terrible night I’m having.”

“What’s wrong?”

You scrunched up your face, scolding yourself in your head. “Just a…just a bad night.”

“Girls at soup kitchen are giving you a hard time?” he asked and you let out a chuckle.

“No,” you said, “I just heard some less than ideal news.”

“Do you need me there?”

You raised your brows, “Aren’t you on a secretive and highly dangerous mission?”

“Yeah,” he said, “Doesn’t matter, I’ll come if you need me. Do you?”

The clear difference between your ex-boyfriend and your current, albeit fake boyfriend was impossible to miss and you felt your throat getting tighter before you coughed.

Fuck no, you didn’t cry.

The last time you genuinely cried was when you were 16, and quite frankly you had no idea if you were even capable of doing it anymore.

“It’s fine,” you managed to say, “It can wait. Date night when you come back though.”

“Of course.”

“And actually I’ve been thinking about that,” you said, “It’s my turn, right? To pick the place?”

“Mm hm, we last went to Brooklyn.”

“So I was thinking what if we did one modern and one old times?” you asked, “I can pick the modern dates and you can pick the old times dates.”

“Huh,” he said, “That’s a good idea. Wait, you’re not going to drag me to one of those nightclubs, are you?”

You giggled, “Would it be that terrible?”

“Please don’t do that to me.”

“You don’t like dancing?”

“Not that kind of dancing.”

“You know, I keep waiting for you to actually utter the words ‘back in my day’, but it’s not happening.”

He chuckled, “Back in my day, we wouldn’t call that dancing.”

You hummed, slipping a little in the bathtub, “Good point,” you said, “So okay then, it’s settled. I got the modern and you got the old dates covered. What does that entail anyway? Home cooked meal dates?”

“Nope,” he said, “We’re dating, not married.”

You pulled your brows together, “How is that relevant?”

“Me being at your place or you being at mine would be very frowned upon,” he tut tutted, “Us together, without anyone else. Inside and privacy and all. Scandal, there’d be lots of gossip about your virtue.”

A clear laughter escaped from your lips and you covered your mouth with your hand, trying to pull yourself together.

“Right, my virtue,” you played along, “So I take it you have never been alone with a girl back in your day then? Since virtue was a huge deal?”

There was a pause on the other line, “I mean it wasn’t— it wasn’t that huge of a deal for everyone…” he trailed off, and you clicked your tongue.

“But overall, no Netflix and chill?”

“What’s Netflix and chill?”

You bit inside your cheek, trying to ignore the warmth at the pit of your stomach, “I know you hate to hear it, but you’re so cute.”

“No I’m not.”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me,” you taunted him, “I won’t tell anyone.”

You heard Sam calling his name and there was a shuffle before he cleared his throat.

“I gotta go,” he said, “Promise to be safe?”

“Right back at you.”

“Good night sweetheart.”

“Good night.” you said and hung up, pressing the phone to your lips before you shook your head at yourself. You got off the empty tub and opened the bathroom door to step out, then found Keith busy with the noddle boxes in the kitchen.

“It’s still hot, and I took the liberty of texting Chloe,” he said, “She’s on her way.”

You tried to offer him a small smile.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he grabbed the chopsticks, “But we might want to finish Scream before Chloe gets here, because knowing her, she will make us watch a rom-com.”

***

You should’ve known trying to change the General’s decision was a lost cause. He listened to your multiple reasons why it was a bad idea to have Julian in your team, but you could’ve been talking to a wall and it still wouldn’t have made a difference.

“I’m aware of your past with Julian,” he said with a sigh after you were done listing your reasons, “Trust me, this wasn’t an easy decision to make.”

“It’s not about my past with him, sir.” You forced yourself to say, “He can’t be trusted. He’s not a team player, he doesn’t think about anyone but himself-”

“It wasn’t just my decision to make him a part of the team, it was all your superiors’,” he said, “We believe that you’re professional enough to pull this off.”

You gritted your teeth, “Sir, it’s not—“

“He’s in your team and a part of the mission now,” he cut you off, “You’re dismissed, Shrike.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms and nodded, then left his office to march up to Chloe and Keith who were huddled over Chloe’s desk.

“What did he say?”

“That he’s not going anywhere.”

Keith clenched his jaw while Chloe heaved a sad sigh.

“I can try to talk to him if you want, but…”

“It won’t make any difference,” you said, “I know.”

Keith crossed his arms, leaning back to the desk, “I mean we could always poison Julian.”

“Keith.”

“Or he could get caught in the crossfire. Spies die like flies, you know that.”

“Don’t say that!” Chloe exclaimed, “You guys are spies too and I already feel way too worried about you.”

“No worries, the only type of death Y/N will get from Barnes is la petite mort.”

You smacked him on the arm, “Fuck you, we’re not sleeping together yet.”

“But you sort of want to,” Keith said, “I heard your giggling last night while talking to him.”

You shifted your weight and threw your shoulders back, “Yeah, so? It’s my cover.”

“Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want to fuck his brains out.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with an answer!”

“I’m kind of excited about that too,” Chloe said and both you and Keith turned to her.

“Please tell me you don’t want to sleep with Barnes—“

“No!” Chloe said, “No I just… when Y/N wants to, we’ll go and get some vintage inspired lingerie so I’m excited for that.”

“We’re not going to do that Chloe.”

“Yeah, let the guy see the good things 21st century has to offer Chloe,” Keith winked at you and you rolled your eyes.

“You know what, I didn’t give you shit when you were the one undercover in Brazil and had to—“

“Y/N,” Julian’s voice reached your ears and a shiver ran down your spine, making you clench your teeth, “You have a minute?”

Chloe stole a look at Keith who glared at Julian while you raised your brows.

“Not for you Julian, no.”

“I just joined the team, you have to update me.”

“Actually she doesn’t because I already gave Sarah your file and I know that she gave it to you two hours ago,” Chloe stated and Keith nodded.

“Yeah and you’re standing a little too close, so why don’t you step back a little?”

Julian shot you a look, “Seriously? And you’re okay with this?”

“He’s right, you’re standing a little too close,” you stated, making him sigh.

“Y/N, we’re on the same team,” he reminded you, “We need to get along.”

“Actually, you’re on my team,” you corrected him, “I’m the leader in here. So technically, I don’t have to get along with you. You have to get along with me, seeing that you work under me.”

A small arrogant smirk curled his lips. “Wouldn’t be the first time I worked under you,” he said, “Brings back the memories.”

Your eyes narrowed and you tilted your head.

“It really does,” you mused, “The memory of the most boring ten seconds of my life, you tranquilized mattress.”

Keith snorted out his coffee while Chloe gasped, staring at you. You smiled at Julian sweetly, then grabbed your phone.

“Well, I’d better go,” you said, “Some of us have a mission to lead after all. I’ll see you guys later.”

“Have fun,” Keith said without taking his eyes off Julian, “I know we will.”

You winked at them and walked out of the bullpen, grinning to yourself.

***

The following two days were an actual disaster. Bucky wasn’t in the city so you had nothing to do and nothing to report about. Not only that, you had also made it your own mission to avoid Julian but so far that mission had been a success.

You were beginning to suspect Keith and Chloe had something to do with it.

There was also something at the pit of your stomach. Something that made you both sad and uncomfortable at the same time, like an itch you needed to scratch and no matter what you did, it wouldn’t go away.

Chloe had this genius theory of you missing Bucky, but she was absolutely wrong.

You were just done with counting the money and locking the register when you heard the wind bell by the door chime, but you were way too busy with trying to place the mason jars on the shelf to even look around.

“Sorry, we’re closed,” you said but there was no answer. You froze for only a second before the spy in you kicked in and you grabbed the mason jar tighter before reaching out to grab the nearest knife. The footsteps didn’t signal that it was more than one person and you would throw the jar and judging by the angle of his shadow he would probably lean left to dodge it and that would be when—

“Hi beautiful.”

You whirled around, still holding the jar tight before you dropped it on the counter with the knife, staring at Bucky standing by the door.

“Oh thank God….” you rushed to jump into his arms and he caught you, lifting you off the floor as you wrapped your arms around his neck, inhaling his scent deeply. Somehow just his presence was enough to make up for these last terrible days and you closed your eyes for a moment while his hand cradled the back of your head, pressing a kiss on your temple.

“Hi,” you giggled as you pecked him on the lips, “I didn’t know you were back!”

“Oh we just arrived,” Bucky said as he put you down, “Sam went home and I came here. He says hi by the way.”

“Hi back,” you said and the duffel bag on the floor caught your eye, “Wait, you literally just arrived?”

“Mm hm.”

You hummed, pinching his chin between your fingers as you turned his face, making him smile.

“No bruises,” you commented “That’s a good sign. You scared me though, I thought you were a robber!”

“Yeah, speaking of,” he said, “Where’s your friend?”

“Tara? She had a date, and the part timer had an emergency, so I’m closing today.”

“By yourself?” he asked, “That’s not exactly being safe.”

“I can take care of myself,” you taunted him, “I’m glad you’re back.”

“Glad to be back,” his smile widened, “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”

“Oh you don’t have to, you know I live close by. You should go home and get some rest, you look like you haven��t slept in days.”

“Y/N,” he said patiently, “It’s night time—“

“Meh, evening more likely.”

“It’s dark outside,” he said, “I’m walking you home, come on.”

You thought for a moment, then heaved a sigh.

“Okay,” you said and looked around to see whether you had missed anything, then grabbed your jacket and switched off the lights. He adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder as you locked the shop then you both started walking.

“So I take it the mission was a success?” you asked, entwining your fingers with his vibranium ones. He still wasn’t used to it and he hesitated for only a second before he held your hand.

“Something like that.”

“How are you going to celebrate?”

He frowned, “Celebrate?”

“Yeah!” you said, “A nice thing happened, why wouldn’t you celebrate it?”

“We don’t really… celebrate missions.”

“Why not?”

He thought for a moment, “I don’t know,” he admitted, “Can I- can we celebrate it then? Together?”

“Oh we absolutely can,” you nodded, “How does tomorrow sound? It’s my time to pick the date, and I’m picking a bar with lots of celebration drinks.”

“There won’t be any dancing in this bar, right?”

“Not yet,” you wiggled your brows, “But I’m warning you, I have plans. We will push you out of that comfort zone of yours.”

“My shrink would like you.”

You tilted your head, “Is that a good thing?”

“Yep,” he said, “How about you? Do you feel better?”

You heaved a sigh and made a face, “Trying.”

“Anything I can do to help?” he asked, “Anything at all, I’m serious.”

A small smile warmed your face and you looked up at him.

“It’s fine,” you said “Thank you for asking though. It means a lot.”

He squeezed your hand like he was trying to assure you and you turned around to see him better as you stopped in front of the building.

“I’d ask if you wanted to a cup of coffee upstairs but…” you sighed dramatically, “My virtue and all.”

“Right,” he played along, “Of course not. We can’t have your neighbors get the wrong idea.”

“No chaperone or anything…”

“I’m astonished you’d even think of such a thing miss,” he said, trying to keep a straight face and you bit down on your lips.

“Well, thank you for being the perfect gentleman, mister,” you taunted him, then stood on your tiptoes to brush your lips against his, his arm around your waist tightening. He looked down at you as you pulled back, that soft light crossing his eyes again.

“Good night Bucky.”

“Good night,” he stole a kiss from you again and you giggled, then made your way into the building. You took the elevator and as soon as you reached your floor and stepped out, you found Keith fumbling with his keys by his door. He looked over his shoulder and you tilted your head, staring at his blood stained clothes.

“Why are you covered in blood?”

“Why are you grinning like a high schooler with a crush?” he asked back and you tried to control your expression. “Something tells me the answer to both of those questions is the same.”

“Mission?”

“Mission.”

You hummed and went to unlock your door as well while Keith leaned sideways to his doorframe.

“At least one of us is having fun on missions,” he pointed out and you curled your lips, shooting him a look.

“Aw you poor baby,” you said, “I’m sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“No I’m not and you know why?” you pointed at him, “You didn’t bring me coffee the other day.”

He gasped dramatically and you let out a laugh, then closed your door behind you.

“That Barnes guy is a bad influence on you young lady!” he called out before closing his door as well and you chuckled to yourself, shaking your head.

“Yeah,” you murmured, “I think you might be right.”

Chapter 11

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #the falcon and the winter soldier #tfatws #tfatws!bucky #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x you #tfatws bucky #marvel

625 notes · View notes