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aurorawritestoescape · 1 month ago

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LUCKY YOU

Joel Miller x f!reader x Clint Flood || 3,2k

Summary: A usual evening with your boyfriend Clint and his best friend Joel turns into a night full of lust and ecstasy - Or - Clint and Joel go down on you.

Tw: 18+ mdni, smut, modern au/no outbreak au, F!ORAL, voyeurism, fingering, rimming, unprotected piv, anal, creampie, cum eating, multiple orgasms, praise kink, pussy/cock pronouns, swearing, alcohol consumption (not by reader). Reader has no specific physical descriptions. Clint can lift reader.

A/n: Grab your toys y’all, it’s a steamy one lol Huge thank you to @ghoulettesinspace for this inspiring ask. Love you, friend! This story is my submission for the Magic Number writing challenge hosted by @schnarfer @whocaresstillthelouvre and @mothandpidgeon 💞 Thank you for creating this hot event! Kisses to @milla-frenchy for beta-ing and being my everything💋 Hope you all will enjoy being a meal❤️

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics 🌸

MASTERLIST || more Clint || more Joel

You've been dating Clint for a few months and his buddy, Joel, often came to hang out at his place. The men were about the same age, both older, both handsome as hell, but Joel never seemed to be interested in you.

At first you were fine with it, you were his friend’s woman after all, but his indifference soon started rubbing you the wrong way. Why would he look through you sometimes, as if you were not there? Didn’t he think you were hot? Or at least deserving of something other than a fleeting glance?

Driven by spite, you started doing everything to get the man’s attention. Wearing tiny shorts and tight tops around him worked wonders - he blushed like a teenager and stammered a shaky ‘Howdy’ whenever you opened the door to him.

Clint saw through your games, but didn’t mind them at all. Even better, he seemed to rail you harder after Joel’s visits.

It’s a usual night at Clint’s place. You two are chilling on the couch, his heavy arm around your shoulder, Joel‘s sitting in a lazy boy nearby. The men are sipping beers and watching some old action movie.

Not interested in the plot, you’re scrolling through Tumblr, and of course, at one point, a porn gif graces your dash. Clint notices it and hums, watching a guy eat a girl out on your screen. You feel his lips at your ear, his hot breath fanning your neck.

”Gonna do it to you tonight.”

You smile and bite your lip, shooting him a glance that screams ‘Yes, please!” His voice and his promise are enough to get you hot and bothered.

You put your phone away, cuddle up closer to your boyfriend and rest your bent leg on his thigh. Clint growls and bucks his hips, a huge bulge in his pants impossible to miss, and you gush, ogling it with hunger. It reminds you of the previous night — Clint’s hard cock fucking your mouth, then stretching your pussy so well, his sweat dripping on your bouncing tits. You squirm next to him and Clint hums, sensing your arousal.

He’s barely watching the movie now - his palms are sliding up and down your naked arms and thighs, his breathing is deep and heavy.

He gets ballsy and, not minding Joel sitting nearby, sneaks his hand under your shorts. His thick finger dips into the pool between your folds and he gruffs,

“Fuck, baby.” He immediately brings his hand to his mouth and licks your juices off, making you bite your lip at the sight of his tongue sliding over the glistening digit.

Joel hears Clint’s groans and turns his head in your direction. He doesn’t realise that his buddy is being a horny menace and continues watching the movie.

Clint keeps playing with you - presses kisses to your face and neck, kneads your tit under the top and squeezes your asscheek. By the time he cups your pussy over your shorts, soaking them with your slick, you’ve turned into a complete mess, desperate for any stimulation.

“Need you,” you whisper against his cheek and he rasps quietly, “I got you, baby.”

Not making you wait, he shoves his hand into your shorts, quickly finds his way to your wet hole and pushes two fingers inside.

You swallow a moan, your eyes set on Joel, sitting close, oblivious to the fact that his friend is knuckles deep in your cunt. Clint starts moving his digits in and out, curling them and skillfully bringing you higher to your peak with every stroke.

“Fuck,” you murmur, feeling yourself getting close, and push your face into Clint’s neck, in hopes of hiding the whimpers, crawling up your throat.

“Let it go, babygirl,” Clint whispers and you do. You come, pulsating on his fingers, your eyes squeezed shut. The orgasm is rippling through your body in waves as you’re clinging to Clint’s huge body. When your climax starts to dissipate, you kiss his cheek and give him a satisfied smile.

Your breathing is slowly coming back to normal but then it hitches, when all of a sudden Clint asks,

“Hey, Joel, do you like eating pussy?”

You stare at your boyfriend with your eyes widened, and then at his friend.

Joel furrows his brows and looks at Clint with a mixture of bewilderment and amusement.

“Scuse me?”

“You heard me, do you like giving head?”

“Fuck off, Clint,” Joel chuckles and returns his attention to the tv, but you don’t miss a slight blush of his cheeks.

Drunk on endorphins, you surprise even yourself when you push, “Do you?”

Joel locks eyes with you, but you’re not backing down. You raise your brows and stare at him with defiance.

“Yeah, we wanna know.” Clint sneers and shoots you a proud glance. Joel glares at the two of you now, but he probably knows well that Clint won’t let it go, so he replies with a shrug,

“Not really.”

Now it's Clint’s turn to be surprised.

“What? Why?”

“Dunno, not my thing.”

Joel takes a sip of his beer and clears his throat.

He’s always been reserved so you know he would never talk about his sexual life like that. The beer must be coursing through his veins, loosening his tongue.

“Is it ‘real men don’t do it’ bullshit?” You don’t hide disgust in your voice and Clint retorts,

“The manliest thing ever. What the fuck, Joel?”

“You know, what I think,” you turn to Clint with your brows pulled together, “Maybe he just hasn’t met the right person.”

“Or the right pussy,” Clint smirks and you giggle.

Joel’s beet red at this point, his eyes glued to the bottle in his hands, and you start feeling a little bad for the guy. Clint doesn’t seem to care. He’s giddy with excitement when he pulls you close and whispers in your ear,

“How about we introduce him to the right pussy?”

You blink a few times and then your lips curve into a mischievous smile.

“He just needs a good role model,” Clint says, sitting up next to you and pulling your shorts down and off your legs. His eyes are set on Joel, whose brows are getting lost in his hairline when he sees what his buddy is doing.

“This is insane,” Joel groans but doesn’t leave, doesn’t move at all. His body is frozen, his gaze is sliding over your naked ass and thighs.

“You ok with it?” he asks, locking eyes with you and you nod eagerly, biting your lower lip, turned on by the depravity of what’s about to happen. It’s impossible to deny - you’ve craving Joel’s mouth on you. Or his cock stuffing your hole.

You’re dripping and trembling with lust, ready to see what your boyfriend is going to do to you in front of the other man.

“She wants you,” Clint assures his friend, getting up and motioning for you to lie down on the couch.

“Looking like a slut when you’re around. She needs that extra cock. Right, baby?”

Your chest heaves as you whisper a soft ‘yeah’ and Joel rubs his scruffy cheek, hiding a lopsided smile.

Clint sits down at your bent legs and spreads your thighs with his big hands.

“Look at her, Joel. She’s too hot not to share.”

You smile at his praise and pull your top off revealing your naked breasts, presenting yourself to the men fully.

Joel adjusts his bulge with a curse and Clint whispers ‘good girl’ before leaning closer to palm your tit, making you whimper.

“But..,” he raises his brow and turns to Joel, ”this pussy’s for eating. Not only fucking.”

Clint pushes your thighs further apart and presses his hand to your folds. He massages them with his wide palm, spreading your slick over your heated skin, and you moan loudly, relishing the pressure on your cunt.

“Fuckin hell,” Joel murmurs and turns more to the couch.

“Hotter than hell,” Clint smirks and brings his lips to your inner thigh. He slowly drags them to your centre and lightly pecks your folds, tickling you with his facial hair. You bite your lip and start kneading your breast.

“Always start slow, Joel. Little kisses here and there.”

“Jeez, I know how to give head, Clint,” Joel groans, getting up and stepping up to the couch. “I’ve seen pussy before. I jus’.. don’t do it often...”

Clint rolls his eyes and then parts your pussy lips with his fingers.

"Been missing out, man. Bet you'd love to stick your dick in this soft hole, uh?"

Joel curses under his breath, his eyes taking in everything you are giving him. Clint murmurs ‘pretty’ to your pussy, then leans down and pecks your clit, his touch feather-light. You moan and buck your hips, chasing his hot mouth, but he ignores your need and keeps persuading Joel,

"Imagine how wet she's gonna be when you make her come on your tongue a couple times. Sticking your cock in a freshly eaten pussy... shit... a life changing experience, man. I swear you won't regret it."

While Clint’s pitching pussy eating to Joel, his thick fingers are gliding up and down over your spread folds, slightly grazing your twitching bud, pouring gasoline into a bright fire in your core.

"You really want me to eat out your girlfriend, Clint? fuck her?"

"Why not," Clint shrugs and, keeping your lips parted, gives the center of your pussy an open mouth kiss. ”She deserves it.”

“Joel, please,” you whimper, need thick in your voice, and your back arches, when Clint’s tongue draws a long wet stripe between your folds.

You flutter your eyes closed, barely hearing Clint’s comments, your heart pounding in your ears.

“Hnggg… juicy little cunt. Joel, check it out.”

Joel’s looking over you, perfectly positioned to watch Clint play with you.

Clint bends down and sucks your puffy clit between his lips, then releases it with a pop and stares intently at your hole. You feel it now. They both groan when a clear drop of your slick trickles down from your clenching hole down to your asshole.

Clint looks up at Joel and smirks,

“Want a taste?”

Joel clenches his jaws as you’re watching him with hazy eyes, tiny whimpers falling from your lips again and again.

“I want you,” you admit with the sweetest tone you can manage and the man’s eyes dart from your crying cunt to your glossy eyes.

He pulls his brows and then nods.

“Let’s get her to the bedroom,” Clint offers with a smile and takes you in his arms.

You bite your lower lip, failing to suppress a grin curving your lips, and squirm naked on the bed with anticipation.

“That’s what I��m talking about. The more the merrier, right, baby?”

You nod, sparkles flying out of your eyes, as you take in two hot men on the bed with you.

“Spread ‘em wider,” Joel commands, and you obediently throw your thighs apart as wide as possible, they’re lying on the bed at this point.

“That’s my girl,” Clint praises you and caresses your inner thigh with his hard knuckles.

Your skin erupts with chills when Joel slides his palm from your knee to your hip, gently, reading your reaction, making sure that you’re still on board. You very much are.

It’s the first time he’s touching you, and you shiver, looking up at him with your heart eyes, blown out and full of need.

“Bon appetite, buddy,” Clint pats Joel's shoulder, inviting him to taste his girlfriend’s cunt.

Joel takes a sharp breath and slowly leans down, torturing you with anticipation, but when he covers your whole pussy with his mouth, you gasp and moan his name, already on the brink of euphoria. He flicks his tongue over your clit and then starts making out with your cunt, languidly and sensually.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as a powerful wave of pleasure engulfs you fully.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” Clint watches, gliding his hand from your mound, over your heaving belly and to your chest. While Joel’s holding your thighs open, eating you out like it’s his last meal, Clint begins kneading your breasts, pulling at your nipples, twitching them to add fire to your ecstasy.

Joel dives out of your cunt and Clint asks him with a smirk,

“So?“

Joel’s breathing is heavy, licking his lips, his eyes two black pits of lust.

“Fuckin incredible.”

“Ah! Told ya!” Clint rubs his friend’s back with a proud smile and looks into your hazy eyes. “I’d eat her for breakfast, lunch and dinner, man. My baby’s delicious.”

“Thanks for sharing,” Joel mumbles and bends down again to lap at your crying hole.

“Yeah, like that,” Clint praises Joel’s skills when you moan loudly and dip your head back into the pillow.

“He’s doing good, babygirl?”

“Yeahhh, so good,” you mewl, losing your mind at how perfectly Joel’s full lips caress your folds and clit, while his hot tongue is collecting all the slick covering your beating pussy.

Joel’s lewd slurping together with your loud moans fills the room, and the electricity between the three of you hangs heavy in the air.

Clint is watching the show with his eyes dark and intent, palming his bulge, and then finally pulls his cock out.

When you see it spring out of his pants, engorged and leaking, your hand darts to it and you wrap your palm around his hot shaft.

“Nah, beautiful. Don’t worry ‘bout me, enjoy yourself.” He takes your hand off his cock and gently kisses your fingers. “He’s gonna wait for your pussy.”

He holds your hand, and leans down to give you a kiss, heady and passionate, grounding you in your overwhelming pleasure, but at the same time pushing you deeper into the pit of lust.

“Joel,” Clint calls after parting from your lips. “Wanna join you.”

Joel hums with your clit between his lips and it pushes you over the edge. You come crying, your eyes and pussy wet with euphoria, every cell of your body lighting up. The men hold you while you shake, your tits jiggling, your pussy leaking all over the sheets.

“Fuck.. what a sight,” Clint growls, running his huge palm over your trembling thighs while his other hand is gripping his cock.

“She’s beautiful.” Joel’s praise makes you smile through the hard orgasm, and when your body relaxes, you sigh happily and close your eyes.

Clint doesn’t give you any respite, though. A light slap lands on your hip and he growls,

“Need to eat this ass.”

Joel wipes your slick of his bearded chin and asks Clint,

“Can I fuck her pussy after?“

“Sure, man. You’re my best bud, what’s mine is yours.”

You giggle at Clint’s words, feeling yourself like a fuck doll and loving every second of it.

“‘k..,” Joel nods, “Let’s make her come again and then fuck her sloppy hole. If you don’t mind,” he turns to you and you purr,

“Never.”

Clint smiles and kneels on the floor. They manhandle your body so your ass is hanging off the bed and then Joel orders,

“Bend your knees, yeah, like this.” He lifts your legs and presses your knees to your sides, fully exposing your pussy and asshole to their obsidian eyes.

“Damn,” Joel groans when Clint glides his thumb over your tight ring which contracts at his touch, already soaked with your pussy juices.

Your boyfriend starts first.

He positions your ass at his face, holding your hips with his hands and presses his flat tongue to your asshole. You jerk and whimper, already in seventh heaven.

“Oh my god,” you moan and clasp Clint’s hair. He starts eating your ass, slurping shamelessly, drinking your moans and your pussy nectar, while Joel is kissing your inner thigh.

Your eyes meet and he gives you a warm smile, “Doin good, sweetheart.” Joel brings his hand to your face and cups your cheek, his thumb rubbing your heated skin and you purr at his touch, reveling in his warmth, trembling from every lap of Clint’s tongue against your asshole.

You choke on a moan when Joel leans down to your spread pussy and begins rubbing your clit with the flat of his tongue.

Your skin erupts in goosebumps, your thighs start trembling. You run your fingers through Joel’s greying curls and feel tears slide down to your temples when Joel’s tongue finds your entrance and he begins fucking your pussy.

These hot men between your legs, their big hands on you, their mouths devouring your holes— the sight alone can make you come but you fall apart from a shuttering orgasm when Clint pushes his tongue into your asshole and starts fucking you with his hot muscle just like Joel is fucking your pussy hole.

You explode with a loud cry, spraying your juices against Joel’s lips and chin, and he drinks everything he can get, and what escapes his mouth trickles down to your ass where Clint eagerly laps it off your heated skin.

They fuck you all night. Drunk on the unending orgasms, you don’t understand who’s between your thighs, whose cum is spilling into your stretched pussy, but you take each dick happily. They shower you with praise, suck on your puffy nipples, drag their hot hard cocks over your skin before sticking them in your hole again and again.

When your pussy gets filled to the brim, Clint fucks your ass, while Joel watches and jerks off, and then squirts his cum on your hickey-covered tits. Clint licks it off later with Joel’s dick buried deep in your overflowing cunt.

The night is a blur of lust, moans and bodily fluids. The room smells of sweat and sex and you take full lungs of the heady scent before falling asleep.

Early in the morning someone fucks your used pussy again, you have no clue who, and orgasm, dreaming of them both.

When you wake up, you make breakfast for the men, still dripping their loads, your thighs slippery and sticky. They eat and chat, smiling at you from time to time.

Joel’s eyes find yours again and again, they stick to your lips, your neck, your legs, reigniting a fire inside you. Seeing you chewing on your lip and squirming in your chair, Clint pulls you into his lap and kisses you.

At the door before leaving Joel gives you a tight hug and pecks your cheek.

“Thank you for the night, sweetheart.”

You’re leaning against the doorframe, watching him walk to his truck.

“Game on Saturday, Joel. Don’t forget”, Clint shouts to his friend.

Before getting in the car, Joel looks you up and down with his dark eyes and gives you a wink.

“Won’t miss it for the world.”

Clint pulls you in his arms and you smile like a happy cat. You can’t wait for Saturday to come.

Thank you for reading! Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed the fic! Your feedback means the world❤️

MASTERLIST

Tag list: @milla-frenchy @harriedandharassed @iamasaddie @nervousmumbling @bbyanarchist @stevie75 @puduvallee @auteurdelabre @mountainsandmayhem @senoratess @flamingochick55 @theoraekenslover @schnarfer @mermaidgirl30 @staywildflowahchild @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @evolnoomym @keylimebeag @thedilfdiaries @pascaltesaye @fruityreads @itwasntimethatdidit40 @meetmeatyourworst @callmebyyournick-name @tateypots

People who were interested in the wip posts (no pressure to read, bbs) @sawymredfox @arcanefox207 @wethairjoel @604to647 @keylimebeag

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 1 year ago

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

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

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

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

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

‘Medjack! Medjack, now!’

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

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

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

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

‘What happened?’ Y/N asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘You mean I’ll have a limp?’

‘Potentially.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Yeah?’ he called back.

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

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

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

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

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

And maybe that was something worth fighting for.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Clint!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/N held it out to Newt. ’Teach me.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Good that.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All because of him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

’Saw what?’ Thomas asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’m sorry Newt, but I am not brave.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was the end.

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

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

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

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

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

‘Y/N?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Brenda!’

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

If she could make it in time.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Right as his drove the knife into her stomach.

‘Y/N!’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Y/N?’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘For what?’ she asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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svetamillss · 5 months ago

Text

Headcanons: their language of love💗

Featuring: Cho Hyun Ju x Reader(f), Kang Sae Byeok x Reader(f), Thanos (Su Bong) x Reader(f), Kang Dae Ho x Reader(f), Nam Gyu x Reader(f)

A/N: Orders are always open for you!

💗💗💗

Cho Hyun Ju

The language of love is words.

She always says nice words about love to you. He calls you cute nicknames, but the most important nickname: "baby". If you are at a distance, she writes you a lot of messages or sends you various funny pictures to cheer you up.

Also, she is always ready to support you, even when you don't need much support, she will still do it.

- Baby, you're the best for me, you'll succeed!

- Hyunnie, I decided to put together a children's puzzle. - you say with a smile.

You will never hear an insult or a bad word from her. She won't allow it. Of course, you also always tell her about love and support her, it is also very important for her.

Kang Sae Byeok

The language of love is time.

She is not a very romantic person and it is difficult for her to express her love in words. But she found a way to fix it. It's important for her to be with you and spend time together. That's why she devotes all her free time to you.

You go for walks, chat a lot or even travel. You also take her younger brother with you, who also loves you very much.

- The weather is terrible outside, I wanted to go for a walk with you so much. - You say sadly when you see that it's raining outside.

- It's not a problem, the three of us can watch a movie or play board games. We'll spend the whole evening together anyway. - she calmly answers, you gladly agree with her offer.

Sae Byeok recently realized that she can't be alone for a long time, she needs you to be next to her for complete peace of mind.

Thanos (Su Bong)

The language of love - gifts.

You couldn't even have imagined that your boyfriend would love to give you gifts. After all, at first he seemed to be a person who would talk all kinds of phrases to you. And then he was able to learn what you love and almost every day brings you flowers, sweets, cute things. Although you began to notice that he does it as well, so that you forget about the bad things he managed to do.

- You took drugs again. - you said with disappointment, when he return home at night, although he was drunk, but at least he did not get lost somewhere.

- Senorita, I didn't come home empty-handed! Here! - and takes out a little Teddy Bear from the back, of course you liked it. He knows your weaknesses.

- Oh, God, thank you, but let's stop with these club parties, otherwise no gift will save you! - you say with a slight anger when you start helping him undress.

Kang Dae Ho

The language of love - help.

Your boyfriend will always be ready to help you, even if you don't really need help.

- Honey, what are you doing? - he asks, entering the kitchen.

- I'm cooking dinner for us.

- Let me help you! After all, you cook meat, and I'm a man, I'll deal with him quickly! - he answers, standing next to you, you can't refuse him, so you agree to his help.

In general, your boyfriend will be ready to carry you in his arms, the main thing is that you feel good and always love each other.

Nam Gyu

The language of love is physical contact.

Oh, what a tactile person he is. You noticed it right away when on the first date he tried to touch you somehow. He even apologized to you, because he thought you might be uncomfortable, but you made it clear that everything was fine and you were just not used to it.

Your boyfriend will always find a way to touch or hug you, anytime, anywhere.

- Nam Gyu, we haven't seen each other for only a few hours, and you hug me like I left you for a week. - you said when you came home after shopping and he came at you with hugs, very tight hugs.

- I'm sorry, I can't help myself, I have a very strong tactile hunger. - he said laughing, but you were satisfied with everything.

💗💗💗

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chaaistained · 3 months ago

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hi chaai! do you have any ideas on where to shift to?

ideas on where to shift .*+

we’ll get the obvious out of the way, there are many different locations you can shift to anon !! and i personally don’t know what your interests and hyperfixations are :( but ! i still want to help in any way i can ≈ so here are a list of general ideas and suggestions and maybe some inspo into different realities to which you (any of you!) can shift !! and ofcs you can tweak it all to your liking xx

sink into self indulgence …

—» shifting at its core is self indulgent and the first example i can think of is your favourite childhood books, movies and shows — the kind of self indulgence where you go back to what made your life sparkle as a child, what made you believe in the impossible, what made you wish the impossible was real, whether it’s fairies, dragons, mermaids, or monsters going to high school, you should take a trip down memory lane and figure out what had you rushing to finish your meal to go watch the latest episode, or work hard at your homework so you could buy the next edition of the game. there’s also the media consumed in your teenage years, the kinds of media that helps you feel like you were escaping and yet at the same time like you were understood

examples include : hogwarts , narnia , my little pony , monster high , ever after high , how to train your dragon , percy jackson and the olympians , h2o , pixie hollow , barbie fairytopia/mermaidia , hilda , bridge to terabithia , wizards of waverley place , minecraft , power rangers , tmnt , disney princesses , little women , gilmore girls , studio ghibli , etc.

—» there are also the realities where you play a part in the bigger picture, you are a significant piece in a vast and intricate puzzle, you stand among your peers, your friends, as someone to be recognised, maybe you’re looking for some thrill? some excitement? some sort of battle or mystery or revolution where you can fight for the underdog or reclaim some form of power — be careful if you do choose to explore these places, but i’m sure you’ll handle it just fine

examples include : marvel/mcu/the avengers/spiderverse , dc/justice league/the arrowverse/smallville , the hunger games , the walking dead , arcane , supernatural , teen wolf , the maze runner , the vampire diaries , pretty little liars , gossip girl , mean girls , outer banks , criminal minds , brooklyn nine nine , the rookie , dune , star wars , avatar: the last airbender , james cameron’s avatar , jurassic park/world , pirates of the caribbean , twilight , etc.

—» conversely, your dr doesn’t even need to be fantastical, sometimes, the things that bring us comfort are in fact the most relaxing, they slow our lives down for whatever time we spend engaging in them, they let us unwind and unravel any burden we’ve unknowingly put on ourselves, the dr doesn’t even need to be based on some form of media, it could be your dream life and/or career

examples include : better cr (HIGHLY RECOMMEND) , cafe/barista , librarian , farmer , florist , artist , museum curator , boarding school , summer camp , bookstore owner , writer , painter , photographer , chef , designer , animator , game developer , director , etc.

—» but maybe you would like a career in the spotlight, where you can finally show the world what you’re capable of, the talent and skills that you know are innate to your being and you just need the opportunity to showcase it

examples include : actor , pop star , band member , kpop idol , youtuber , broadway singer , talk show host , dancer , professional athlete , model , travel vlogger , socialite , royalty , etc.

when all is said and done, shifting is inherently a form of self love, you’re picking yourself and you’re choosing to shift and experience a reality that will fulfil you in some way !! the ideas in this post are not the limit, there is no limit, [cue mean girls’ “the limit does not exist” scene] so let your creativity take control and let yourself indulge in what makes you happy

cuppa queries; order in — ask responses

2025 © chaaistained

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erwinsvow · 1 year ago

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was watching the latest hunger games and i don’t know if you’ve seen it but there’s a scene with snow and lucy gray that is so reader and rafe core. like the scene where he kills the mayor’s daughter and lucy gray is in hysterics and he just grabs her, warns her to pull herself together and go back outside and pretend like he’s not just killed someone and i’m like this is so rafe and his casual dominance with reader. 😍😍

babe STOP you are SOOO onto something here.. + that scene in the movie had me FERAL!!!!! picturing season two after limbrey kills that guy (im so sorry i cannot recall any names.. was too busy staring at rafe's arms)

"oh my god!" you squeal, eyes wide like coins, tears filling up and almost spilling over in a matter of seconds. "oh my god, oh my god-"

rafe fucked up. he shouldn't have gotten you anywhere near this situation, it's his own fault. your insistence on not being too far from him and his own ego that found pleasure in that fact had won him over. rafe liked that you liked him, that you needed him around.

but right now he can tell what you're thinking—probably something along the lines of the fact that he was insane, that his dead body had appeared and he was going to take care of it because he wasn't reacting at all like you were, how any normal person would.

limbrey was staring at you, and a sudden fear ran through his mind that she might try and hurt you too.

"go inside-" he barks at the older lady, who doesn't move, gun in her hand. "go inside! m'gonna have to take care of this, leave-" she stalks off, while you watch with your big wet eyes, shoulders shaking, voice run dry from your screaming.

your reaction is normal, expected. he can't find it himself to even be remotely angry. he leaves the dead body where it is, hands finding your shoulders and dragging you away, like that might help you.

"hey, listen to me. listen to me." he says sternly, and you listen obediently, if not due to fear. "don't scream. don't worry. m'gonna take care of this-this mess, okay? we're gonna be fine."

"r-rafe, she k-killed someone. we, we have to call the police-"

"we're not calling anyone. m'gonna handle it. he was a bad guy, okay, no one's gonna miss him."

"a-and that makes it okay? rafe, you-"

"hey," he barks and you freeze up, listening. "listen, kid, have i ever gotten you hurt? haven't i kept you safe? hm?" he wants an answer, so you nod, still shell shocked. "s'gonna be fine. keep it together. i can't have you like this. we're gonna be fine."

"o-okay." you look down at your white shirt, observing tiny little dots of blood. "what, what do i-"

"go inside. throw this shirt in the fireplace. and then go upstairs to my room and take a shower. okay? i gotta take care of this first. then i'll come join you, got it? alright?"

"okay," you repeat, nodding, frozen. you look up at your boyfriend one last time, trusting him like you always do, even when a little part of you is screaming to run and take off in the other direction. "what're you gonna d-do, with him, uh-"

"i don't know, kid. i need to get you away from it first. just go upstairs, please-" your shoulders relax as soon as the sentence leaves his lips. your mind goes fuzzy, like it always does around rafe, but hearing that even in this insane, unfathomable situation, that his first priority is you, makes your head spin.

you lean in, pressing a kiss to rafe's lips, not pulling away until a minute has passed, your shaking hands tight on his arms.

like always, you follow the instructions he's given you, walking away and heading inside, shedding your clothes and burning them, cleaning yourself in the scalding water until you can smell nothing but the vanilla of your soap and the pine of rafe's shampoo. once out, you put on one of his shirts and some of his long white socks, everything feeling cold still.

you wait patiently on his bed, not able to focus on anything on your phone. when rafe walks in, you don't move, letting him come sit beside you.

"what did you-" you start, before being interrupted.

"don't ask, kid." rafe doesn't sound mad, rather protective. "if i tell you, you're in this shit now. can't have that."

you wrap your arms around his neck, crawling into rafe's lap and into a tight hug. his hands tense around your waist, and you close your eyes, inhaling the scent of his skin. he doesn't smell like blood, at the very least, so you think he hasn't done anything crazy yet.

or crazier, you correct yourself.

"the swamp. in the woods. there's gators, and foxes, and who knows what else." it comes out as a whisper, like you're scared that the walls might overhear. "if you bring him there, no one will find him. if no one finds him you can't get in trouble."

rafe pulls out of the hug to look at you, all shaky limbs and wet eyes. he presses a kiss to your forehead.

#baby.. you know me SOOO well.#you are amazing for sending this my way #i can only hope everyone likes this as much as i do #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader

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oceanfruitsstuff · 5 months ago

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So, I’m in no way a professional here, but I’ve been learning more about writing and storytelling and all that fun stuff and one thing I love about Stranger Things is how they do love triangles—or more, love upside down V’s, that visual always helps me a bit more when I’m trying to make sense of them.

Stranger Things isn’t over yet, they still have a big chunk left to go, so I’m not going to act like anything is set in stone, they might go a completely different direction we know nothing about and that’s totally fine—but if we’re working with what we know up to this point, it’s always been pretty obvious to me what their intentions are if they’re following the normal structure of love triangles.

So let’s say Mike is character A, El is character B, and then Will is character C. Since Stranger Things isn’t a romance story and there is queerness involved, it’s going to be much more subtle then, let’s say, Steve/Nancy/Jonathan. But I’m getting off topic here, what I’m saying is Mike is not the main focus for both characters, in a show or movie that’s revolving around romance, both B and C characters would, usually, have their main focus be A (the character they want to be with) a big thing for me when I’m reading books with love triangles or watching shows/movies, is that if at any point one of the characters (besides character A) has an important arc of finding independence and learning about who they are, you can almost always rule that character out of being part of the “endgame couple”. Not everytime, but almost everytime. So, the second I watched season 4 it was a big “ohhh” moment for me when I saw what they were doing.

Also, if we’re gonna just follow the cliques of love triangles, the “obvious” or maybe first choice/couple, is very rarely going to be the final couple. Again, not always, but it’s extremely uncommon.

We can even do a comparison to the hunger games, it’s obviously a vastly different story, but there is a similarity woven in with the little love triangle they have going on. Katniss’ first choice is not Peeta, and we all know what happens—but the thing that is bringing me to this point, is that they still are almost always together, their plot lines are lined up. Of course it’s different since Katniss is the only POV, but still, no matter what, she winds up, usually, working with Peeta OR trying to find him once he’s taken.

Circling back to Mike and Will, they’ve never been separated, they’re storylines have been continuously woven together, they flew Mike out to Lenora this season just so he would end up working with Will. The only season they’re apart is season one—but, Mike’s goal the entire time and main focus is Will. They bump together because, a lot of the time, they’re focusing on one another.

A writer wants their endgame couples to be displayed together, the want people to like them together and root for them, or really just see them together. Every single other couple on the show (except for Jonathan and Nancy is season 4) are always shoved next together during the main plot. Joyce and Hopper don’t even start chatting about being together until season 3. We all kind of know where it’s headed, but most of their encounters aren’t romantic, there’s a depth to them that makes it somewhat romantic, but it’s not necessarily written to be that way. If you’re writing a story, you want the two characters you plan to be together to have a heavy background, a good rapport with one another, and to be seen together. Whether they’re currently dating or not, you want your audience rooting for them.

With El and Mike, it’s always been so odd the separation they have—because their arcs are not meant to intertwine, they love each other and hold an important relationship in the story, sure, but one of the reasons I’ve always felt strange watching their relationship on screen is because it doesn’t appear their stories are going in the same direction. There is this lack of romantic depth, or honestly even friendly depth, they hold each other at arms length. I think that’s for many reasons, but an important one is that El’s arc is not romance, I think for her character it would be insane if it was. The things she’s been through are crazy, and she’s only just learning who she is and who she wants to be—based on what we saw in the last scene where she’s practically ignoring Mike, we can assume she’s figured out what she wants.

Very very rarely does character A end up with character B. In real life, maybe, in stories, it’s pretty boring and not what people lean towards. Again, the show is not over, they could shift things around, it’ll be interesting to see—but I would be extremely surprised if Will and Mike don’t end up together or atleast are shown to have mutual feelings, purely just based on the simple storytelling structure they’re following.

Anyway I’m sure a million people have already said this, but the writing of how they’re handing Will and Mike is so interesting to me—and obvious if you’re taking away homophobia.

Characters that are meant to be together are usually shown together. If they’re not, that’s when you ask questions on what else might be going on.

Who knows if I know what I’m talking about, that’s just my POV on it all. I love Mike and Will, I’ve always thought they’d be beautiful together, but season 5 will be super exciting to see.

#byler #byler endgame

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megalony · 5 months ago

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I'm So Cold

This is my first time writing for Joseph Quinn's character Michael in the movie Hoard. This is for @missdreamofendless I hope you like it and thank you for spurring me to write it.

Taglist: @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyje @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @kyky9103 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra848484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella @eleventhdoctorsangel @kniselle @senjoritanana @shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @lolalolsstuff @jupiter1700 @ashdoctor @an-aliens-ghost @lunaroserites @houseoftwistedspirits @callsignwidow @winterreader-nowwriter @reneinii @bellsbomb @western-pyro @itsgigikay @harry-satellite @midsummereve1993 @babyqueen17 @buckyyyismahhlife @sammiejane22 @mrsyixingunicorn10 @op-81-lvr-reblogs @talicat713 @niamhmbt @strawberry-canyon @bieberhoodforever @911fangirlie @hollandxxmix @jasmineee05

Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Michael have a strange type of relationship since he came to stay with them. But when (Y/n) comes back shaken from a night of sleepwalking, Michael makes it his mission to look after her.

Enjoy.

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

What (Y/n) had with Michael was… different, to say the least.

It wasn't romantic, not most of the time anyway. It was unique, nostalgic and invoking.

He brought about the memories in (Y/n) that she thought were long gone, he unlocked aspects and moments from her childhood with her mum that had been repressed. And (Y/n) made michael feel like he was back in an era before he went to live with his brother. She made him want to act out those childhood memories that he thought he'd forgotten.

Their bond was strange, but (Y/n) wouldn't change it for anything. Since the moment Michael came to stay with her and Michelle, things had changed. Things became interesting. He made (Y/n) feel like she was living in a game and he changed the rules.

It had been the small things at first. The way he would brush up against her or rest a hand on her shoulder when he was walking past her or weaving behind her in the kitchen. Then it was the way he squished next to her on the sofa until their thighs were pressing together and she could feel each breath he took.

Michelle worked a lot, she always had, and now that (Y/n) had finished school, Michelle could take those extra shifts without worrying because (Y/n) was fine to be home alone.

With Michael here, that changed things. The second week of him being with them was when he'd kissed her.

(Y/n) had never been kissed like that before. She'd never felt that sense of hunger or had someone pin her against the wall like he thought he would die if she walked away from him.

Something seemed to happen whenever they were alone. Whether that was them running around the house like they were playing a frantic, grown up game of chase or whether it was them running around the streets causing mayhem in their wake. Whatever it was, something always made the days interesting and they seemed to feed off of one another.

(Y/n) loved it, but she couldn't help but want a little more. More than waiting for Michael to make the move and kiss her. More than just being someone he found fun to kiss when no one else was home because they both knew it wasn't exactly normal or 'right'.

A sigh got caught in the back of (Y/n)'s throat as she leaned against the door frame to the living room. Michelle, who (Y/n) classed and thought of as her own mother, was sat on the sofa against the back wall, nursing a cup of tea. She had Sam sat next to her, their neighbour who was more of an aunt to (Y/n) with how often she came round and helped out whenever needed.

Her girls were sitting on the other sofa, tangled together as they laughed at whatever strange, stupid joke they had come up with now. (Y/n) didn't get along with either of them, but she tolerated them. There was no other choice when she saw them almost every day and they were always coming round with their mum.

As hard as (Y/n) tried, she couldn't keep her eyes on the tv that was blasting out the news channel. There was only one person her eyes kept levitating to. Michael. Sat on the arm of the sofa, so close to the door frame that if (Y/n) leaned in just a little, her arm would undoubtedly brush against his back.

She stopped herself before she leaned and got too close. Everyone was in here. She didn't want them to notice or to cause a scene, and she certainly didn't want Sam's girls- or Michelle- knowing how close she wanted to be to their house guest.

Her fingers drummed against the door as she pulled away and filtered into the kitchen to make herself a drink. She clicked the kettle on and slumped her forearms down on the counter while she stared out into the garden.

(Y/n) found herself becoming lost in thought as she stared out the window to her left.

What would things be like when Michael eventually found his own place and moved out? Would he still stop by? Would she still see him? Would he even want to know her once he didn't live here anymore, or was (Y/n) just a way to occupy his time and find some fun before he left?

Every thought possible ran around in her mind until she found herself becoming dizzy, but a shiver scratched down her spine when she suddenly felt a body pressing up beside her.

Her head twisted to the right and she looked up, wide-eyed to see Michael stood beside her.

There was that usual half smirk playing on his lips and the way he inclined his head to the side looked like there was a question he wanted to ask her, but he stayed silent. He seemed to observe her for a moment and when his tongue slid out to drag along his lower lip while his eyes dragged unceromoniously slow up and down her body.

She stayed leaning on the counter, her lower back and bum arched out as she waited for Michael to make a move. Clearly he had come in here for a reason.

"Need something?" Her voice came out a lot quieter than she wanted and it made her dart her eyes down to look at the counter.

But her nerves felt like they had been set on fire when she felt Michael's hands on her hips before she even noticed him move. Her hands flexed and pressed against the counter when she felt him weave behind her. She wasn't sure even he knew what he was doing or what he was trying to do, he seemed to be making it up as he went along and so far, he was doing a good job.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips and he moved to stand directly behind her which caused (Y/n) to straighten up and press her lower waist into the counter. She was trying to give him room to walk behind her since the kitchen was the size of a shoe box, barely enough room for one person to move around, let alone two.

But Michael didn't care. Instead of moving to the side, he stepped even closer to (Y/n), moulding himself up against her back while his thumbs began to glide up and down her waist and dipped beneath her shirt.

"Excuse me," His lips hovered over the shell of her ear and (Y/n) didn't need to look to know that he was smiling as he leant over until his chest was firmly pressing down on her back.

His left hand stayed on her hip while his right arm stretched above her to open the cupboard in front of them. He pulled two cups out and set them down on the counter; he noticed (Y/n) had put the kettle on but she hadn't found herself a cup or even started to make a drink yet.

(Y/n) had the urge to say 'you're excused' which was her given sarcastic response but she was afraid that saying that would cause Michael to walk away from her. She didn't want him to move, not one inch.

Instead, her wide eyes followed him as he tilted his head to the side so he was looking down at her with that smirk that could get him anything he wanted. It probably always had.

The kettle whistled and boiled in the background, but neither of them made a move to reach over and actually start making a drink.

It felt like an eternity passed between them as (Y/n) stared at those large chocolate eyes and continuously darted her gaze down to his blushing pink lips that he kept licking and grazing his teeth against. He noticed her looking. It was clear by the way his smile broadened and he sank his teeth down into his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth as he inched his face closer to hers.

In a moment of bravery, or weakness, (Y/n) let go of the counter and carefully turned around on her heels until she was facing him. Her hips pressing bruisingly into the counter while Michael's hands stayed planted firmly on her waist. But this time, his chest was moulding against hers.

She could feel each deep breath he took, she could see every rise and fall of his chest. She could almost see his heart pulsing away in his chest which was causing the vein in his neck to throb.

She could feel his hands that were digging tightly into her waist like he was trying to imbed his fingers into her skin. She could feel his thighs pushing down on hers and pressing her legs into the counter and try as she might, she couldn't help but feel how he was pressing his groin into hers.

(Y/n) wasn't sure where she got her surge of courage from, but she moved her hands until her fingertips were lightly tracing across Michael's chest. He was wearing a vest, something he was frequently wearing unless he was going on a night out. Even beneath his work overalls he wore a vest rather than a shirt.

Her fingers traced over the discoloured cream and red vest like she was drawing patterns and she noticed Michael tilting his head down so he could watch her movements with intrigue.

One hand slithered across his chest and up the side of his neck until her hand was cradling the side of his face. Her thumb brushed across his jaw and the expanse of his cheek, feeling the beginning of stubble tickling the pad of her thumb while her fingers traced along his jaw and neck.

Michael's hand stayed on her hip, practically clenching her flesh between his fingers and her breath caught in her throat when his other hand cupped the back of her neck. Squeezing just enough so a shiver coursed down her skin and a beautiful tingling sensation spread through her nerves.

He angled her head back and surged down to attach his lips to hers. It always felt like taking a drug whenever he kissed her. It felt like (Y/n) was falling through the air and she came to a horrible crash landing when he eventually let her go and walked away from her.

Their teeth clashed as he kissed her like the world was going to end and he wanted it to burn in flames on a high note. She could feel his tongue clashing against her teeth as his surprisingly warm lips devoured hers and he leaned into her so much that her back began to bend and press uncomfortably into the counter. But she didn't care. Not as long as he kept kissing her like this.

"Are you two making a cuppa?"

Their lips broke apart with a slight gasp and (Y/n) felt her chest heaving against Michael's as he continued to press against her like he was trying to crush her.

She watched the way his eyes darted to the doorway, but he visibly relaxed when he realised Michelle wasn't stood there. She had called out from the living room.

"Yeah."

(Y/n) was glad Michael spoke, she wasn't sure she could trust her voice right now without giving away that something was going on in here.

Michael's hand left her neck which caused (Y/n)'s head to loll back and a wicked grin spread across his lips. He ducked down and attached his lips to the side of her neck, instantly sinking his teeth into her skin which caused (Y/n) to clamp her hands down on his shoulders. He couldn't leave a mark, not one that anyone could see or they would suspect and ask questions. But she didn't have the heart or the words to ask him to stop.

That was the thing about him, he felt addictive to (Y/n). He felt like a drug which she couldn't say no to. When they wandered the streets late in the afternoon causing mischief, when they ran around the house like crazed teenagers or tackled each other to the ground like they were on drugs. It was all so enticing and addictive. All (Y/n) wanted was to be around Michael and to be with him.

But she didn't know whether he wanted that, or whether he simply wanted the mayhem they created and the hyped feeling he got at the fact that they were sneaking around the house. Just like this.

The way he pressed further into her made (Y/n) bend back on the counter and she tested the waters by pushing her hips out into him which caused him to groan lowly against her neck and send vibrations through her throat.

She wasn't sure what his free hand was doing while his other hand was on her shoulder. Until she heard a familiar clink and realised he was getting more cups out the cupboard. They had been asked to pour some more drinks for the others in the living room.

It was a good job Michael had his ears tuned in to their surroundings while (Y/n) felt like her head was filling up with static and her heartbeat was vibrating throughout her system. He heard the sound of the sofa creaking and when the familiar sound of slippers against the laminate caught his attention, he moved. Fast.

His hands left (Y/n) and he sidestepped to the right so he was no longer stood between her legs, pressing up against her like he was trying to mould them into one person.

He swiped his hand across the back of his mouth and beneath his nose as he took a deep breath and shook his head to try and rid the lust from his eyes and calm down his system.

It wouldn't do him any good for Michelle to find out that the lad she was letting sleep in the living room was making out and sleeping with her young daughter. He trained his eyes on the cups in front of him and began tossing tea bags into each one while his foot anxiously tapped against the floor.

(Y/n) made him riled up, she had since the moment they met. He was always on edge around her, always so eager to attach himself to her and jump her and kiss the life out of her. He didn't know why she had such an effect on him like this, but he liked it. He liked what she did to him, even if he didn't quite understand it.

His eyes carefully glanced to the right and he managed a tight lipped smile when he saw Michelle leaning against the doorframe.

"Are you staying in for dinner?" It was clear her question was directed at Michael and he mustered the best smile he could when he felt (Y/n)'s eyes burning into him.

He could feel her arm brushing up against his as she turned around to grab the kettle and began filling the cups. And he could feel her eyes flickering up to him as if she were eagerly awaiting his response too. The other day when he was home in time to eat dinner with her and Michelle, he ended up gliding hid hand over (Y/n)'s thigh beneath the table to try and see what kind of response he gained. It had been an interesting night.

"Ah, no, thanks. I'm heading out later." He shook his head when Michelle grinned in that all-knowing kind of way and murmured 'with a girl?' but his denial only seemed to make her chuckle as she got the milk from the fridge.

A wince tore through him which he couldn't hide when he noticed (Y/n)'s expression fall and saw how she took a tiny, almost unnoticeable step away from him.

He wanted to stay, he wanted to be here. He wanted to spend all his time around (Y/n), but he didn't think he could control himself when he was around her.

Once her drink was made, (Y/n) nursed the cup between her hands and weaved around Michael, brushing up against his side as she passed. She had no reason to feel jealous or annoyed if he was going out, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to be around him. He had no idea how desperate he made her feel.

But he was staying for a few more weeks. There would be plenty of opportunities for (Y/n) to be around Michael and be with him and kiss him just like she had just now.

***

He didn't like this.

The longer he waited, the more panicked Michael started to feel.

Part of him wasn't even sure why he was worrying. It wasn't as if he was (Y/n)'s boyfriend or brother or guardian. He wasn't even a close friend, he was just the guy that was crashing at her mum's house for a while. He was the guy sleeping in the back room.

He shouldn't even be worrying or waiting up like this, it could be seen as creepy.

But when Michael got back and quietly crept in so he didn't wake anyone, he knew something was off. He just had a sixth sense that something wasn't right and when he looked around, it hit him. The door had been open, he didn't have to use his keys to get in. The door was never open this late at night, it was always locked.

(Y/n)'s keys were in the door, she had unlocked the door for something. The hallway light was on too which wasn't normal unless someone was up during the night.

Michael couldn't help it, he couldn't help but creep up the stairs and rap his knuckles on (Y/n)'s door. He kept telling himself he was being silly until he opened her door and realised she wasn't there.

She had gone out and it was late, what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just go lie down and try to sleep? Was he meant to wake Michelle and tell her (Y/n) had gone out when she hadn't mentioned going anywhere earlier?

It was past midnight. Only drunks an freaks would be out on the street at this time of night and (Y/n) wouldn't blend in or mingle with them. Anything could happen to her, especially if she was alone. Michael hoped she wasn't alone. He hoped she was with someone, she was less likely to be hurt or in some sort of accident if someone was with her.

His fingers began to tap down on the kitchen counter as his head lolled from left to right. He had tried to sit in the back room but he couldn't put the tv on and risk waking Michelle up and he couldn't go to sleep until (Y/n) came home and he knew that she was alright. He had tried to make himself a coffee to sober up- since he had been out drinking with the lads from work- but the cup had long since gone cold and he had barely touched it.

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, Michael grabbed his phone from the counter and scrolled through the messages he had sent (Y/n). She hadn't opened or seen any of them. She hadn't responded. She didn't even have the curtesy to tell him that she was okay or tell him where she was right now.

His foot tapped incessantly against the floor as his shoulders hunched over and he tried to write out a new message to her. But before he was halfway done, the sound of the front door clicking open caught his full attention.

His head snapped up and his body straightened like he had grown three inches as his wild eyes set on (Y/n).

It was her. She was back. She was safe.

Seeing her walk through the door set off something inside Michael. It felt like a firework had launched in the pit of his gut and was now exploding through his chest, splintering off in all directions throughout his system that was now shaking and buzzing with adrenaline and anger.

Before he could stop himself he launched his phone down on the counter, barely hearing the way it clattered and bounced against the wooden counter and bashed into the toaster. He didn't care about making noise anymore and threatening to wake Michelle. She could wake up for all he cared. (Y/n) had finally come home, now she could explain.

The look of anger that was seething on Michael's face made (Y/n) wince when she meekly nudged the door shut behind her with her elbow. Her head aimed down but when she looked up through her lashes, the anger was still present and combined with how his face was now turning a dark shade of red.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

His words made her jump and the gritty tone to his low voice made (Y/n) whimper unintentionally. She didn't want to move, she didn't want to step any closer when he was clearly upset with her, but she couldn't just stand in the hallway like this.

She needed to move. She needed help.

Michael's chest continued to heave, straining against his red and white vest as his eyes focused on (Y/n). But the closer she got towards him, the more his angered expression morphed into a look of confusion.

Something was wrong. It hadn't dawned on him when she walked through the door to take in her attire. He assumed when she wasn't home that she had gone out with a friend or to a pub or something like that. But now that he looked her up and down, he realised that couldn't have been the case.

Where on earth had she gone in just a t-shirt and shorts?

"Wh- what happened?" His brows furrowed when she finally stood in front of him and he felt his heart clench when he realised she was hovering a foot away from him. As if she was too afraid to get close because he looked so frustrated with her. He didn't want her to be afraid of him, he would never want that.

When she didn't answer him, he took the initiative and stepped forward towards her instead. One hand curled around her arm but he almost pulled back in shock when he took in how cold her skin was. She felt like a block of ice, he had never known her to be so cold. And she was trembling.

He carefully hovered his other hand in front of her mouth, feeling each frozen breath she let out. And he couldn't stop himself from gliding the back of his fingers across her lips.

The feeling almost short-circuited (Y/n)'s brain. He had never touched her lips like that before, the most he had done was kiss them. His touch on her lips was so gentle and sensitive as if he thought pressing any harder would cause her to fracture. (Y/n) resisted the urge to kiss his fingers, mainly because she felt too numb and frozen to actually move.

"Your lips are blue… God, you're freezing." She was stone cold and her lips had changed to a dark shade of navy. But when Michael glanced his eyes down to see if her legs were undoubtedly as cold as the rest of her, his frown deepened. "Haven't you heard of shoes?"

Why was she barefoot? No socks, no shoes, and he would have noticed if she took them off when she came in. Why had she gone out on such a cold night in her bare essentials? What had happened for her to flee the house in such a state and become so cold? She was going to make herself sick.

Michael started to shake and his brown eyes went wide, almost fully overtaken by his pupils when (Y/n) let out a small, feeble cry. Horrible bouts of shaking scattered through her system but he wasn't sure whether she was shaking because she was frozen cold or because she was afraid or in some state of shock.

His knees bent and both hands moved to grip her arms as he crouched down a little so they were level and he could look into her petrified eyes. She had to talk to him. She hadn't spoken one word since she came in and he had to know what was going on.

"I w- I woke up near a bus stop. I had to- to walk back."

"You…" For a moment or two, Michael simply narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't understand. He had no idea what that meant or what she was talking about. She had gone out. She hadn't been in bed asleep.

Another minute ticked by as Michael scanned his eyes up and down her frame before everything seemed to click into place. "You sleepwalk?"

(Y/n) hated how his expression fell and his shoulders dropped down when she nodded.

It wasn't something she openly talked about, mainly because she hadn't done this in a long time. It used to be bad when she lived back with her real mum. The doctors thought it was because of how unstable her life had been and the lack of routines she had and the combination of all that and the environment she had to live in.

Coming to live with Michelle had made (Y/n)'s life so much better in everyway. Instead of sleepwalking into the bathroom or wandering downstairs or waking up sitting in the living room, (Y/n) started to have full, proper nights sleep. She rarely sleep walked anymore and when she did it was when she was stressed. The last time was when she was stressing over her exams for school and she only walked into the living room.

She hadn't wandered out the front door in her sleep since she was thirteen. But tonight she had gone five blocks and woke up sitting at a bus stop.

A lock of shock plastered across Michael's face when (Y/n) suddenly moved. Her arms encased against his chest and her frozen cold fingers that felt like hardened clay just managed to clench around his vest. It felt like bending her fingers was going to cause them to snap off, she wasn't sure she had any blood circulation to her hands and feet anymore.

Her face burrowed into the crook of his neck and her body glued up against his front, clinging to him like he was a human radiator. She needed heat. She needed warmth and comfort and reassurance.

"I'm so cold."

Michael already knew that, he could feel how cold she was because her temperature was making him shiver and sending goosebumps prickling along his skin. She was causing the hairs on his skin to prick up in an attempt to save his own body heat.

He moved on instinct and curved his arms around her, binding one arm around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head. And before he knew what he was doing, he tilted his head down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her temple.

The rare display of affection was shocking to (Y/n) but it was also just what she needed to stop her from bursting into fits of tears.

"Okay, okay come on." His words were hushed against her temple and his arms stayed bound around her as he slowly began to nudge (Y/n) backwards until she took the hint.

It was hard to move when her body felt like it was turning to stone but she did her best. (Y/n) tried to shuffle and it was a little easier with Michael pressed up against her, guiding her movements. He still had one hand on the back of her head and his other hand was splayed out in the centre of her back with his elbows pressing deeply into her skin.

The way his chest was moulded up against her front made (Y/n) feel like she was an ice cube that was slowly beginning to thaw and melt. The chill that had seeped into her chest was just starting to disappear as Michael's warmth surrounded every inch of her skin.

Her eyes stayed tightly closed and each cold breath she took fanned against Michael's neck where she could feel his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He carefully weaved them both around the door frame and guided (Y/n) into the living room. The curtains were closed and the only source of light was the small orange glow from the lamp in the corner and the faint light seeping through from the hallway which disappeared when Michael nudged the door shut with the sole of his foot.

He scanned his eyes around the living room, in desperate need of something, anything, that he could use to warm (Y/n) up and stop her from catching hypothermia.

He hummed quietly when he remembered he'd tossed his jacket on the sofa when he came back.

He leaned (Y/n) forward a little so he could snatch up the worn navy blue jacket and he carefully peeled (Y/n) off his chest so he could motion to the jacket in his hands. She looked like she was in a trance, staying unusually quiet but still compliable, allowing Michael to lift her arms and slide them into the jacket which he quickly zipped up right to her chin.

She heard him murmur "That's better," into her hair before his hands were on her hips and he was slowly tugging her along with him towards the sofa.

He flopped down on the sofa with a thud and moved his arms out so he could gently pull (Y/n) down to him. Her breath caught in her lungs as Michael manoeuvred her until she was laid in between his legs with her back against his chest. He tensed his thighs to squeeze her in his embrace but after a moment or two, it was as if something dawned on him.

(Y/n) tried not to make a sound when he pressed flush against her back and hips and his arms let go of her to weave around her. She watched with narrowed eyes full of intrigue as he pulled his knees up and began removing his socks.

"What're you doing?" Her voice still held a slight edge and rattle from how cold and dry her throat felt and from the cold that had long since seeped into her chest that felt like a hollow cavity.

"What's it look like? Warming you up, or you'll get chill blains." He spoke somewhat absentmindedly as he tugged off his woollen socks and began curling one hand beneath her ankle so he could lift her leg and put the sock on her foot. They were a bit large on (Y/n) but that was a good thing.

Once both socks were pulled halfway up her calves, Michael patted her knee before he grabbed the woollen blanket from the back of the sofa which he draped around them both.

(Y/n) allowed her eyes to close while she felt him wrapping the blanket around her front, trying to encase every inch of her body up to her neck with the blanket to keep her warm. He tucked it around his own arms and under his hips so she was effectively encased in the blanket like it was a ziplock bag.

It felt soothing to let herself relax into him and become swaddled up in his embrace. And the feeling of his hands running up and down her arms to try and get some blood and warmth running back through her veins made her body turn fuzzy.

But it was the feeling of Michael's lips pressing against the top of her head and how he breathed into her hair that made (Y/n) want to melt into a puddle right there.

He didn't seem to know the effect he had on her. He didn't know how his touch made her shake for an entirely different reason. He didn't realise how every kiss he pressed against her skin made her fall for him more and more and how being so close to him made (Y/n) afraid that when he let her go, it would be the last time.

"You do this a lot?"

She almost didn't hear what he said over the sound of his heartbeat thudding away like his heart was trying to help show hers how to beat properly.

"Used to… haven't for a while." (Y/n) shrugged against him and burrowed down a little more while she bound her arms around her chest and nuzzled her nose and lips into the familiar blanket wrapped tightly around them. "Normally happens when I'm stressed." She added quietly after a minute.

She felt Michael's hands slow down their frantic rubbing up and down her arms until he switched to squeezing her arms and softly stroking the rough pads of his thumbs along her arms.

His chest was arched over her, pressing into her back while his knees began squeezing and pressing into her thighs. She could feel each breath he took while his lips stayed merged against the back of her head. He sounded like an animal. Like he was riled up, ready to lunge at the slightest sound or disruption.

"Anyone could have grabbed you, if you didn't wake up-"

Just the thought of what could have happened, what might have happened, sent Michael's head reeling and had his own body quaking with frustration and paranoia.

What would he have done if she didn't come home? He would have gone out looking for her, but he wouldn't know the first place to look.

Someone could have seen (Y/n) wandering in a trance-like state and they could have snatched her. They could have taken her, kidnapped her, hurt her. They could have done anything she chances were if she didn't wake, she wouldn't know or fight back or utter one word.

She could have walked out into traffic and got hit by a car. She could have had an accident and froze to death waiting for someone to pass by and help.

It seemed too good to be true that she actually managed to wake up when she did and found her way home before she became too sick or disorientated.

The endless list of frightening possibilities made Michael growl into her hair as he tried to rid each and every thought from his mind that was beginning to go on overload.

"I was scared, Michael."

She kept her eyes closed so she didn't have to look up and see his expression when she turned her head. Her face tucked into his neck again and she felt the sharp breath he took as her words stunned him. The feeling of his lips against her temple made (Y/n) sigh into his skin but it was the feeling of his right hand slithering out of the blanket to cup her cheek that made her freeze.

His arm pinned over her chest and his hand cupped the side of her still frozen face. The pad of his thumb traced across her cheekbone and down towards her jaw while he pressed kiss after kiss against her temple. Not realising that he had started to sway them both from side to side.

"You're home now, alright? I'll- I'll keep an eye on you." He wouldn't let her go. If she had told him sooner that she had a tendency to sleep walk, he would have been more vigil at night.

He would have made sure to listen to each sound he heard during the night, he would have been on red alert for any movements that didn't sound normal. He would have done something to make sure she was safe. Hell, Michael probably wouldn't have gone out or stayed out so late tonight if he knew (Y/n) went sleep walking from time to time.

With a deep breath, Michael shifted just a little so he could lay back against the cushion so he was laid down with (Y/n) reclined against his chest. He kept his arms bound around her and his lips stayed merged with her temple

"Get some sleep, yeah? If you wake or try and wander or some shit, I'll be here."

(Y/n) finally peeked her eyes open so she could try and glance up at him, but Michael had his eyes closed and he looked like he was already on his way to falling asleep himself.

"But… if mum sees…"

As much as (Y/n) was desperate to stay wrapped up in Michael's arms like this until the world ended, it wasn't practical. What if Michelle came downstairs early in the morning and saw them tangled up together like this? She wouldn't be happy. She might kick Michael out and (Y/n) was already panicking about the day he would eventually move out in case he wouldn't want to see her again.

But right now, Michael didn't seem to care. He wasn't letting (Y/n) wander back up to bed to be on her own, not in this state. Not after what she had just been through. She was staying here with him where she was safe and he could look after her.

"Right now, I don't give a shit. I'm not letting you out of my sight." As if to prove his point, he encased his arms tighter into her frame and hooked one leg over hers like he was a set of vines caging her in a trap.

It was comforting. It was lovely and warm and heavenly to be overwhelmed by Michael right now and have him thawing her out and telling her that he wasn't letting her go. He didn't want to be out of her sight, he wanted her right here so he knew she was warming up and safe and not about to go wandering in danger again.

With the little energy that she had left, (Y/n) wriggled onto her right side and curled her legs up towards her stomach, trying to make herself more compact in an attempt to keep warm.

A shiver rattled through her when she felt Michael's thumb glide across her cheek as he cracked one eye open and looked down at her.

She was sure he murmured "You're still cold," but she wasn't sure whether it was a statement or something which required an answer.

But she gasped when she felt Michael's arms bind tighter around her and he twisted them around in less than a second. Her arms stayed encased to her chest and she closed her eyes until Michael had her back pinned against the sofa and he was hovering on top of her instead.

His face tucked into the crook of her neck while he pulled on the blanket so it was safely encased over him and tucked around (Y/n) to keep the heat surrounding her. His lips attached to the side of her throat as he switched between kissing her skin and simply breathing against her throat to try and heat her up.

(Y/n) lifted her arms just a little so her fingers could graze along Michael's neck but she could already feel her mind beginning to settle down. Suddenly the thought of her mum walking in on them like this didn't spark adrenaline in her system anymore. Suddenly nothing else seemed to matter except how tightly Michael was holding her and how warm he was making her feel.

It felt like she was starting to sway as her mind slowly started to switch off, but she knew she heard Michael correctly when he started whispering into her skin.

"You don't know what you do to me. I've never felt like this with anyone else."

#imagine #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn #hoard #michael hoard #hoard film #joseph quinn hoard #hoard imagine #michael x reader #joseph quinn hoard imagine

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smilesheartshugs · 7 months ago

Text

Halloween AU pt.2

A continuation of:

Tim centric

It’s been four months since his parents were last home. About a month since he ran out of food. Three days ago the water faucets stopped working. Good news! His parents should be home soon! They promised they’d be home for his birthday! It’s his birthday tomorrow so his parents must be home soon! Until then he’ll wait in his safe spot. Years ago he had found a hollowed out section of wall in his closet. He can hear everything in the house from that spot. It’s also the warmest spot in the house. Especially when he moves the boxes to block the draft from entering his little budding spot. With the heater broken durning the unusually cold weather, the isolation of the walls keep his little hiddy hole warm. With nothing else to distract himself from his thirst and hunger, he might as well take a nap until his parents return home.

When Tim wakes up he’s face to face with his own body. Fear and confusion runs through him. What is he going to do when his parents get home?

He fazes through everything instead of touching it. At least he doesn’t feel hungry any more.

It’s another two months before his parents return home. With that time was able to practice picking things up and interact with the tangible world. If he didn’t know he was dead he would think he was still apart of the living.

After helping his parents unpack the first thing he says is “I died while you where away”

“Don’t be ridiculous Timothy you’re just fine. Obviously you’re standing right here” his mother responds

“No im a ghost!” Tim insisted

“There’s no such thing as ghost sport cease this game at once” his father answers

“No really my body is in my closet!”

The family argues back and forth for a bit which Jack and Janet believing Tim to be playing a game. They angrily look in his closet only to not see his body. After all it’s in the hidden hiddy hole in the very back behind some of the boxes. His parents leave before time could move the boxes out of the way. His body is certainly worse for wear. Areas have puffed up in some spots while other areas of flesh has melted away. When he first woke up after dieing his body only looked like it was asleep, now it looks like it belongs in a zombie movie.

Three years later

Jack and Janet are disappointed that Tim hasn’t grown any, he makes a shrimp ten year old. Tim has stopped insisting that he’s dead. The creative punishment his parents dish out has long made him stop wanting to prove his death.

Tim still checks on what’s left of his body, it’s mostly bone now, but it’s proof he’s not crazy and that he really did die. He watched as his flesh slowly rotted away.

He’s made friends with the Waynes, they think he’s a normal human boy, all be it a bit small. He learns that other undead creatures exist, as well as other hunting beings. Jason is another undead, though he got to keep his original body. He was murdered by a clown about a year after Bruce took him in. No one has seen the clown since then though. Tim suspects that the clown may have been one of the goul’s first meals that the werbat provided. That would explain why Jason was so quick to forgive Bruce and why the clown hasn’t been seen again.

Jason brings a lot of raw meat for his school lunches, usually beef or lamb. Though recently it’s been a lot more lamb than cow, Tim wonders why that’s the case.

One day Jason drags Tim back to Wayne manor under the guise of studying for their upcoming test together. Tim was quick to bond with the rest of the family. He’s felt more at home here than he’s ever felt back in drake manner. It doesn’t take long until Tim becomes a regular guest at Wayne manor.

Even though he doesn’t need to eat, Tim never turns down a meal. In fact, he’s almost always snacking on something. Even on those cardboard cookies no one likes. Well it might be more accurate to say he doesn’t physically need to eat. He gets anxious if he hasn’t had any thing to eat for a while. It’s nice of the Wayne’s to bring him all these extra snacks though!

Two years later

Tim is a regular fixture in Wayne manor. After finding out how often his parents are away they insisted that he’d stay with them.

This brings us to the current problem. Cass needs to cast a protection charm on the manner, a ward agent an evil cult. Unfortunately there’s one ingredient that Cass can’t get her hands on.

“A bone of an unburied one freely given.”

What this means is that she needs a bone of someone who hasn’t had a funeral, which means she can’t just buy one off of a donated body. Stupid old spells with stupid specific unwritten rules that make more sense or the time period it was written in and not modern day. She also can’t look for lost hikers in the woods because they can’t give consent to being in the spell.

But Tim could help! He’s never had a funeral, and he’s here to give his consent for using his bones! It’s a win win!

While the older Wayne’s were trying to figure out how the spell would work with some from if substitute Tim convinces Jason to come help him get something from his bedroom back in drake manor.

“So what are we grabbing baby bird?” Jason asks Tim

“You’ll see when we get there” Tim replies. He’s learned that he can’t convince people he’s dead. He learned that the hard way.

“Okay okay but why am I bringing a box again?”

“My boxes are all stained”

Tim brings Jason to his closet where he moves those old boxes out of the way.

“Baby bird what is this?” Jason asks a little freak out about the skeleton in the closet.

“The missing ingredient for cass’s spell!” Tim answers cheerfully.

“Tim, we can’t use this with out their permission, why do you have a corps in your closet?” Jason is freaking out that there’s a dead person in the baby bird’s closet and he doesn’t know how it got there.

“No im giving you permission to use it!”

“Tim you can’t give permission for someone else’s body”

“No! Jason you don’t understand! I’m giving you permission to use it!” Tim has frustration tears in his eyes.

That’s how Jason found out that his baby bird was dead, be the looks of it he’s been dead for a while.

“Now help me bring it to Cass?”

#batfam #batman #red hood #jason todd #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #damian wayne #tim drake angst #angst #Tim angst #Bruce Wayne #Robin #dc robin #dc Red Robin #Red Robin #bat man fanfiction #batman fanfiction #fanfiction

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callmedaleelah · 9 months ago

Text

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— said “i’m fine” but it wasn’t the truth ; when people said when we’re mad and frustrated we can just break stuff, punch walls, smash chairs, or destroy whatever. but why do we always end up just staying quiet and decided destroying our mental health instead?

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

Winter classes were supposed to be a chance to get ahead, but instead, they felt like a relentless race you were barely managing to keep up with. The class wasn’t crowded, maybe a dozen students, but each one of them seemed like a walking encyclopedia, filled with confidence and an unwavering hunger for knowledge. They’d arrive at class an hour early, occupying the front rows with books spread out in front of them, and their hands perpetually raised, ready to challenge or add to whatever the professor was saying. It made you feel small, like you hadn’t studied enough, like you didn’t belong.

Each night, you’d prepare as much as you could for the next day’s lecture, even though your heart wasn’t entirely in it. Your mind wandered constantly—flitting between how much you just wanted to curl up in your dorm bed with a warm blanket, and how the pressure to perform was slowly grinding you down. Your mom’s incessant texts about what you should eat, reminding you to take your vitamins and ginseng tonic, felt like a constant pressure to maintain an unrealistic level of perfection.

You tried to get some rest, but your brain wouldn’t turn off. Sleep was the only escape, and yet, even when you did sleep, it wasn’t restful. Every time you stirred, you’d hear the familiar blare of your alarm reminding you to take another supplement, or the ping of your phone with another message from your mom telling you that your meal delivery was arriving soon. It all became so routine that you found yourself on autopilot—studying, sleeping, eating whatever your mom sent, and wondering if it was all worth it.

Sometimes, the thought of skipping class altogether seemed tempting. Why couldn’t you just enjoy your break like other students? The thought of cozying up in your room, watching movies, and getting some real rest before the next semester felt like a distant dream. But deep down, you knew you couldn’t let yourself fall behind. Not with the way things were going.

It was during one of these dreary cycles—struggling through the monotony of your winter class—that you ran into Yamaguchi. He had just returned from a winter volleyball camp in Okinawa, looking worn out but content, with a large backpack slung over his shoulder as he entered the dormitory. You had just received another food delivery from your mom and were balancing the boxes awkwardly in your arms when you saw him.

“Back from camp?” you asked, trying to sound casual even though you felt a wave of envy wash over you. He had been training in the sun, while you had been holed up in your dorm, trapped between study sessions and forced naps.

Yamaguchi flashed you a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, just got back. Okinawa was nice, but the camp was brutal.”

“I bet,” you replied. “Must be exhausting.”

“It is,” he agreed. “But, hey, there’s a game coming up this weekend. A lot of students will be there—it’s kind of a big deal. You should come. You could use a break.”

You hesitated, balancing the food boxes in your arms. You weren’t sure you could afford to take a break, but the idea of escaping the monotony—even just for an afternoon—was enticing.

“Yeah, maybe I will,” you said. “I could use a distraction.”

Yamaguchi grinned. “Great! You won’t regret it.” and then he disappeared heading to his own room.

You find yourself sitting in your room, staring at the clock as it ticks toward the start of your winter class. Normally, you would have packed up your things by now, grabbing your notebook and meticulously prepared materials, ready to attend. But today, the heavy feeling in your chest has been particularly suffocating. Your classmates—so driven, so sure of themselves—are already filing into the classroom, likely throwing questions at the professor before the lecture even begins. Meanwhile, you sit paralyzed with dread, the thought of being surrounded by such ambition making you want to curl up under your blankets and disappear.

Lately, you’ve been thinking about skipping class more often than you care to admit. The demands of the course have been relentless. It’s winter break, and yet here you are, working yourself into exhaustion while others seem to thrive in the chaos. Your mind drifts to how good it would feel to stay in bed, tucked into the warmth of your comforter, resting and doing nothing. It’s hard not to resent how your days are filled with either studying or sleeping, with alarms going off to remind you to take your vitamins or respond to your mom’s texts about food deliveries she insists on managing.

But then, Yamaguchi’s invitation to his game pops back into your mind. Skipping class seemed like an impossible risk. But the more you thought about it, the more you realized how desperately you needed a break from the monotony.

Now, you stand at a crossroads: attend another draining class or take a chance and watch the game. You swallow hard, your nerves bubbling up as you reach for your phone. Quickly, you tap into your settings and turn off your location. Your mom would kill you if she found out you were ditching class.

You can already imagine her voice, stern and disappointed, demanding to know why you weren’t where you were supposed to be. The thought sends a jolt of panic through you, but the excitement of going to Yamaguchi’s game is just strong enough to overpower it. You toss your phone into your bag, slip on your coat, and head out the door before you can second-guess yourself.

When you arrive at the gymnasium, the noise hits you first—a vibrant, buzzing energy that feels almost overwhelming after the quiet of your dorm room. You pull your jacket tighter around yourself, heart racing as you navigate through the crowd of students. Everyone seems to be moving in the same direction, excited and chattering about the game ahead.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket. It’s Yamaguchi. He’s texted you the seat location: front-row, right near the stands where the volleyball team would be sitting.

That realization makes your stomach flip. You had thought you’d be watching from a distance, blending in with the rest of the crowd, but now…you’d be sitting right where they could see you. And more importantly, where Tsukishima could see you.

The thought of being so close to him, to them, makes you nervous all over again. What if they think you’re a total fraud for skipping class just to be here? What if your classmates see you and realize you’ve abandoned your studies for a game? And worst of all—what if your mom somehow finds out?

You push those worries aside and head toward the front of the gym. You can feel the heat of the stadium lights on your face as you scan for the empty seat Yamaguchi had promised. Your stomach twists when you see it—a perfect spot, right next to where the players are already gathering.

You take a deep breath and sit down, trying to calm your racing heart. Yamaguchi waves at you from the court, his usual friendly smile plastered across his face. You wave back awkwardly, feeling a little out of place but also secretly excited. You can’t remember the last time you did something spontaneous like this, and as the game is about to start, you can feel the excitement building in the air around you. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

The gym grows louder, students chanting and clapping, their energy infectious. As the game progresses, you find yourself fully immersed in it. The players move across the court with a fluidity and grace that you can’t help but admire, and every time Yamaguchi’s name is called, you cheer louder than you expected.

But every time your eyes wander across the court, they keep finding him—Tsukishima. You don’t even mean to look at him, but it feels impossible not to. He’s just there, always in the corner of your vision, his sharp focus making him seem untouchable. His tall figure commands attention, the way he’s so utterly concentrated on the game almost mesmerizing.

At one point, during a timeout, you catch him glancing toward the stands—toward you. For a split second, your eyes meet, and your heart skips a beat. It’s so brief, you’re not sure if it even really happened. Maybe you’re just imagining things, but the feeling stays with you.

You try to shake it off and return your focus to the game, but it’s hard to keep your eyes from drifting back to him. You find yourself watching his movements, the way he adjusts his glasses with a flick of his hand, the focused way his brows knit together when he’s strategizing. There’s something magnetic about him—something that makes your heart flutter despite your attempts to stay calm.

Then, when the game is heating up, he calls out to his teammates, his voice firm and commanding. It sends a shiver down your spine, and you realize you’ve been holding your breath. You quickly exhale, shaking your head at yourself. It’s just Tsukishima. You’ve been around him before, so why is he making you so nervous now?

As the game continues, your eyes keep darting to him—almost unconsciously—as if you’re searching for some sort of acknowledgment. And when his team makes a crucial block, you can’t help but cheer for him too. You clap along with the crowd, but the butterflies in your stomach are there for an entirely different reason.

As the game nears its end and the score tightens, the tension in the gym grows. You grip the edge of your seat, your focus divided between the game and Tsukishima, who’s still laser-focused on the court. Every now and then, he glances at the stands again, and though he never lets his gaze linger on you for long, each fleeting look sends your heart racing.

And then, in one final, climactic play, the ball soars over the net, and Tsukishima jumps—higher than you’ve ever seen him—his hand slamming down in perfect sync with his team’s attack. The gym explodes in cheers as the point is won, sealing the victory. You’re on your feet, clapping and cheering along with everyone else, but all you can think about is how incredible he looked in that moment—so strong, so confident. Your pulse is pounding, and you can’t tell if it’s from the excitement of the game or something else entirely.

When the match ends and the crowd begins to disperse, you feel a mix of relief and lingering anticipation. You made it through the game without being caught, and for the first time in a while, you let yourself have fun without worrying about school or your mom’s expectations.

As you start to gather your things, you feel a presence next to you. You glance up and there he is—Tsukishima. He’s standing close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating off him, his tall frame casting a slight shadow over you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low and calm, but there’s a subtle edge to it that makes your heart jump again.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady.

His gaze flickers toward the crowd, and then back to you. “You’re still here,” he says, as if he hadn’t expected you to stay until the end.

“Of course,” you say, feeling a little flustered. “Yamaguchi invited me.”

Tsukishima nods, his expression unreadable as always. “You didn’t have class?”

Your stomach twists, the lie you’ve been trying to avoid suddenly hanging between you. “Uh… no. I mean, yes. But I skipped it,” you admit, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment.

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of something like amusement crossing his features. “You skipped class to watch volleyball?”

“Yamaguchi invited me,” you repeat defensively, but even you can hear how weak the excuse sounds.

Tsukishima huffs out a small laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable.”

You feel your face heat up even more, but there’s a strange thrill in his teasing. It’s not cruel, like it sometimes feels when he scolds you in class. This time, it feels almost… warm.

Before you can respond, Yamaguchi jogs over, grinning widely. “Hey! Thanks for coming!” he says, his eyes bright with excitement. “I’m so glad you got to see the game.”

You smile back, grateful for the distraction. “It was great! You guys were amazing. Good game,” you said awkwardly, not sure what else to say.

Tsukishima raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Thanks.”

Yamaguchi chuckled. “Look at him, trying to act all cool. He’s just happy to see you. Tsukki always plays better when someone important is watching,” Yamaguchi teased beside you, his tone playful.

Tsukishima shot Yamaguchi a look but didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned back to you, adjusting his glasses. “I’m glad you came.”

The simple statement sent a flutter through your chest, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a sense of ease. Maybe things weren’t perfect—maybe you were still struggling with your classes and the pressures that weighed on you—but in this moment, standing here with Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, you realized that you didn’t have to face it all alone. Small moments like this, small escapes from the overwhelming routine, were what made it all bearable.

The rest of the day is a blur, but you carry the memory of the game—and those fleeting moments with Tsukishima—long after you leave the gym. His teasing words, the way his eyes lingered on you for just a second longer than necessary—it all leaves you feeling strangely giddy, like something has shifted between you. You don’t know what it means yet, but the thought of it makes your heart beat just a little faster.

The excitement from the game lingers with you as you walk back to your dormitory. You should feel relieved, maybe even a little triumphant for sneaking out of winter class without getting caught. But as you step through the threshold of your room, that familiar heaviness settles back over your chest. The contrast between the energy of the gym and the quiet stillness of your dorm is jarring, almost suffocating.

You close the door behind you and drop your bag on the floor, collapsing onto your bed with a heavy sigh. The reality of what you’ve done sinks in—you’ve skipped class. Skipped winter class. The one your mom keeps reminding you about, the one she’s certain will help you "catch up" with your more advanced classmates. You’re supposed to be there, making up for all the time you’ve "wasted," proving you can handle the challenge.

Instead, you spent the afternoon at a volleyball game.

You glance at your phone, half-expecting an angry message from your mom, berating you for skipping class, but there’s nothing. You turned off your location, after all, so she can’t possibly know. But that doesn’t stop the guilt from gnawing at your insides, twisting and turning in your stomach until you feel almost sick.

Your phone pings with a new notification. It’s from your class group chat—students exchanging notes and summaries of the lecture you missed. You scan through the messages, but every word feels like a weight pressing down on your chest. All your classmates seem so prepared, so eager to prove themselves. Some of them were in the lecture hall an hour before class even started, peppering the professor with questions as if they were experts themselves. Meanwhile, you’ve barely had the energy to keep up with the material, even though you’ve been reviewing it diligently every night.

You should be like them, you think. You should be more proactive, more engaged. Instead, you’ve been struggling just to stay awake, constantly exhausted, your mind barely able to process anything outside of the textbooks in front of you. It’s as if your body is stuck in a cycle—study until you can’t anymore, collapse into bed, and wake up only when your alarm blares to remind you to take your vitamins and ginseng tonic. Your mom’s incessant control over your meals only adds to the stress, with daily reminders that she’s still keeping tabs on your health, convinced you’re not doing enough to take care of yourself.

Maybe she’s right. Maybe you’re not doing enough. But the truth is, you’re just so tired—tired of constantly running on this treadmill, never feeling like you’re getting anywhere. You feel stuck in place, your efforts swallowed up by the endless grind of study, sleep, repeat.

A text comes through from your mom, just as you feared: “Don’t forget to eat the chicken soup I sent over. It should be there by now. And make sure you drink the herbal tonic after—there’s no sugar in it, just like you asked.”

You groan inwardly. Even when you’re not thinking about school, your mom’s constant reminders feel like another layer of pressure. It’s like she doesn’t trust you to manage your own life, and as much as you appreciate her concern, it’s starting to suffocate you. You look over at the brown bag by the door—the delivery she’s had sent to your dorm—and you realize you’ve lost your appetite completely.

You collapse back into bed, letting your body sink into the mattress. You want to sleep. More than anything, you want to shut out the world and just… rest. But your mind won’t let you. It keeps spinning, the guilt of skipping class, the fear of falling behind, and the constant pressure from your mom all swirling around in your head until you can hardly breathe.

And then there’s Tsukishima.

The game flashes in your mind again—his quick glances during the match, the way he teased you afterward, the tension between you when he stood so close. You feel your heart flutter, even as you try to push the thoughts away. You can’t afford to be distracted by him, not when you’re already struggling to keep up with your coursework. But no matter how hard you try to focus, his image keeps creeping back in—his sharp gaze, his calm, steady voice. It’s maddening.

Another buzz from your phone pulls you from your thoughts, but this time it’s not from your mom or your classmates.

It’s Tsukishima.

Your heart skips a beat as you stare at the notification.

Did you make it back to your dorm?

You blink at the screen. It's a simple text, nothing special, but the fact that he’s checking in on you sends a warm feeling spreading through your chest. You feel your fingers twitch, hesitating for a moment before you type out a response.

Yeah, just got back. You?

There’s a long pause. You watch the three little dots as he types and deletes a few times, and you start to wonder if maybe you’ve said something wrong. But then his message finally comes through.

Still at the gym. Going to grab something to eat.

You smile, picturing him somewhere near the gym, maybe wiping off sweat or grabbing his things, looking as serious and unruffled as ever. Before you can overthink it, you send another message.

Don’t forget to eat your veggies —you joke, hoping it will lighten the mood.

You wait for a response, and when it comes, it’s as dry as you expect.

Noted.

A small laugh escapes you. You can almost hear the sarcasm in his voice, the subtle amusement lurking beneath his stoic exterior. You set your phone down, the tension in your chest easing just a little.

But even with Tsukishima’s brief distraction, the reality of your situation remains. You still have winter class tomorrow, and the fear of falling behind looms large over you. The holiday break that should have been a time of relaxation has become nothing but stress, pressure, and endless responsibilities. You’ve been trying so hard to keep up, but it’s clear you’re just not moving at the same pace as your classmates. They’re racing ahead while you feel like you’re stuck in quicksand, every step forward dragging you deeper into the struggle.

And then there’s the question you’ve been avoiding: what if you’re not cut out for this? What if no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be able to catch up? The idea terrifies you, but you can’t shake it. The doubt clings to you like a shadow, darkening every corner of your mind.

As the hours tick by, you find yourself caught between two worlds—the world of responsibility and expectation, and the world of escape, where Tsukishima’s texts linger in your thoughts, a small, comforting reminder that not everything in your life is about pressure and stress.

You rolled over in bed, pulling the blanket up to your chin. All you wanted was to sleep. To shut out the world and forget about winter class, forget about your mom, forget about everything except the warmth of your bed and the lingering memory of Tsukishima’s text.

But your mind wouldn’t let you rest. It kept spinning, the weight of your responsibilities pressing down on you, making it hard to breathe. You couldn’t afford to be distracted, not by Tsukishima, not by the game, not by anything.

Yet, despite your best efforts, his face kept creeping back into your thoughts. The way he’d glanced at you during the game, the teasing smirk he’d given you afterward. It was enough to make your heart race, enough to make you question why you couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Your phone buzzed again, and for a moment, you panicked, thinking it was your mom. But when you glanced at the screen, you saw it was another message from Tsukishima.

Get some rest. You look exhausted.

Your breath caught in your throat. You stared at the message, your mind racing. He’d noticed. He’d actually noticed how tired you were, how worn out you felt. It wasn’t much—just a simple observation—but it meant more to you than you wanted to admit.

You typed out a quick response, your fingers trembling slightly.

I will. You too.

His reply came almost immediately.

Sure.

You smiled to yourself, the tension in your chest easing just a little. For a brief moment, everything felt… okay. The stress of winter class, the pressure from your mom, the fear of falling behind—it all seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the warmth of Tsukishima’s words.

And for now, this moment is enough.

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr

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thecordelialetters · 9 months ago

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I’ll love you in every multiverse: First Dates and First Loves Pt. 3 I Five Hargreeves x Reader

Post Apocalypse Au! WC: 2.58k Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4

Summary: You're Five's wife from another universe and he's trying really hard to help you back home, unfortunately, it's been weeks and you're losing hope and he's gaining feelings.

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It's been 4 weeks of research, quality time, sexual tension, and awkwardness, and it was starting to get to you. You knew you shouldn't have feelings for this Five, but this version feels new, like when your relationship has begun again. It was the tender touches and the sense of leaving each other wanting. It felt good but it was torturous.

Today was Friday, every Friday you and Five ordered food and watched a movie to convey some type of normalcy. It started when you guys had been reading and making equations for 11 hours when you had had enough. -------------------------- 3 weeks ago --------------------------------- The two of you sat in Five's room surrounded by a ginormous load of reading material. "Okay, I can't do this right now I'm actually going to explode." You pushed all the papers in front of you aside. Five sighed and leaned back in his chair, a few buttons of his shirt undone from the summer heat. You watched as he flicked his hair back with his hand then rubbed his wrist from the pain of writing so long. "What are you looking at?" He questioned. "Nothing, just thought I saw something." Oh, you saw something all right. Something that made your pulse quicken. But now wasn't the time to think about how hot he was you shook your head "Look we've been at this straight for 4 days I think we need a little pick me up." You started typing away on your phone for the closest pizza place and best movies streaming now. Five furrowed his brows at you before dusting his pants and standing up, "Okay while you do that I'm going to take a shower." Pointing to him you replied, "Fine but you better be back for this prime-time fun." He waved you off but nodded. You had managed to find a pizza store nearby that delivered and ordered half pepperoni, half cheese, with a diet Coke. Plopping on Five's bed you opened his laptop that Viktor had gifted him. Plain. Looking fresh from the store with the mediocre sky background screen saver. You turned your head to the door waiting to see if you had enough time before opening the camera app and taking a photo on his computer and changing it to the background, the perfect prank. You then began typing away looking for free movies online. Normally it would take you forever to find a movie with your Five, the both of you were pretty picky in wanting to find just the right movie. But right now you just wanted to let some steam off. Reaching over you pulled out a side table to rest the laptop on and sat on the edge of Five bed leaning your back against the wall. You grabbed one of his pillows to hug against your chest, subtly inhaling the smell.

You heard Five come in the room and opened your eyes. "You weren't sleeping during our fun Friday right?" He laughed. You smiled, "I wouldn't miss it for the world, and I've already picked out a movie!" He walked in pizza in one hand, plates and napkins in another. You scooted over to make space for him and leaned over to play the movie. "The hunger games? Is this a movie about starving people? Because I prefer thrillers." You laughed loudly, partially because he wasn't wrong. He rolled his eyes before grabbing a slice of pepperoni pizza and putting it on a plate. "Here," he moved it closer, "for you." You grabbed the slice, "What a gentleman."

The two of you sat in silence, munching on your pizza while watching Katniss Everdeen volunteer as tribute. “Me and my husband loved these movies, he was team Gale, initially.” The two of you watched Gale and Katniss say goodbye for the first time. Five hummed “Gale does look more suitable for Katniss. But I won’t judge for now.”

The two of you were halfway into the movie and had 2 slices left of the pie. Sleep was beginning to overcome you as your eyes fluttered open and shut. Five looked at you from the side of his eyes. You looked so cute like that. Like a child trying to stay up past their bedtime. Hesitantly he spoke up in a soft voice, “ You…you can lean on me if you’re tired.” You yawned, confirming that you were indeed sleepy. Slowly your head fell to his shoulder as you shimmied closer to get comfortable. Five prayed you couldn’t hear his heart as he leaned his cheek on the top of your head. He closed his eyes and hoped this moment would last forever, he inhaled deeply trying to remember everything he had experienced with you so far.

Your breaths slowed down, indicating you were fast asleep. Five didn't want to interrupt your peaceful slumber so he carefully scooped his arm under your neck and legs to lay you down. He reached for the laptop closed the movie and saw the little present you left as his screen saver. He laughed, you were cute. Your pearly white smile was wide and your eyes were shut. He'd definitely keep it this way. He shut the laptop and began cleaning up the remnants of dinner before bringing them downstairs.

You stirred in your sleep, twisting and groaning as if you were having a bad dream. Five crept back into the room hearing your discomfort. He approached you and placed a hand in yours, perhaps thinking that the comfort would help you sleep. But your turned and pulled him toward you hugging his arm, face pressed against his palm. He wanted to leave, not in a bad way, but he didn't want to take advantage of you. Although, you had looked so much calmer with his hand in yours. He carefully laid above the covers making sure to not disrupt you. Five stared up at the ceiling, a million thoughts running through his mind. He genuinely enjoyed your presence and thought less and less about Delores. It was no surprise to him why almost every variation of himself was in love with you, and it scared him to admit that he was one of them. He closed his eyes, wishing to silence the thought, and eventually drifted off.

You cheek was smushed up against something hard and your hand against something warm, the smell of cologne and books welcomed your nose. Well whatever it was, it was breathing. You looked upward and saw your husband, you reached your hand to trace his jawline before pressing a kiss to his neck and snuggling deep into his side for a bit extra shut-eye. Unknown to you, Five was awake and felt everything, he knew you must've confused him for your Five but he pretended to sleep. You woke up again but this time Five was gone. You stretched out your arms and let out a groan before getting up and wandering downstairs. You saw Five nose-deep in a newspaper with a fresh pot of coffee. "Morning! Five, how did you like the movie last night. Sorry, I fell asleep I was exhausted." The boy put down his mug before responding "No worries, I kinda got into it and finished while you were asleep." He paused, thinking about his next words, "It was really fun just kind of relaxing." You jumped up and smiled, "I'm glad! We should do these movie nights often." You zipped around the counter to pour yourself a glass, unaware of green eyes following you, memorizing your figure.

--------------------------- Present Day ----------------------------------

Ever since then Friday nights became a regular thing for you and Five. You would order in fast-food and pick a movie. It almost always ended with you falling alseep first and the Five, but the two of you never acknowledged that.

There was a knock on the academy door. "I'll get it." Five said he was able to get there the fastest after all. "Viktor?" he said skeptically, "Come in, what are you doing here?" He moved away to let his brother in. "I'm here just checking in on you and our uh new visitor. You two kinda disappeared for a while. Luther and Ally had to catch up on work, Diego and Lila had plans, I don't know about Klaus but we wanted to know what was up." Viktor took a good look at Five. Although he still retained those dark eyebags under his green eyes, they seemed lighter. He even looked like he put on a healthier weight. "They're all busy with their own things, seems reasonable I'm busy with mine. But for you and our sibling's information, I'm doing just fine. I've been helping (y/n) try to get back home for a while. It's been...tough. But we're slowly making progress." Viktor nodded understanding that they, including him, as of late have not been the most invested in Five.

You came walking from behind Five, "Hello Viktor! Nice to see you again." Viktor waved awkwardly. It was funny seeing someone you'd known for years but here you'd only just met. "You know Viktor back in my universe we hung out a lot. I went to every one of your concerts." You paused, "I missed that." Viktor smiled, you were so nice, he kinda wished you were apart of this universe and this family. "Well, I have a concert tomorrow if you wanted to come? I know you two are probably busy with the machine but..." Five and you spoke simultaneously "I'd love to." "Yeah we are." You turned to look at Five with a harsh look before responding, "What time is it and were?" "its a 7pm at the mainstreet theater." You grabbed his arm excitedly, "We'll be there!"

When Viktor left Five looked at you with one eyebrow raised, "Don't we have work to do?" As much as he wanted to support Viktor, the two of you were busy, and there was no end in sight to when you would be able to go back home. Weren't you worried? At times he thought you to be too carefree, unbeknownst to the seriousness of your own situation sometimes. "Yes, but it's good to be there for Viktor, it's important to him." You had similar talks with your Five, growing up in an emotional student house, vying for the affections of their stoic father, you could tell that it was hard for the family at times to understand certain things. "Sometimes, it helps to be the first one to reach out, it shows that you care and you want to prioritize them." You nudged him on the arm. "Now...weren't we about to commit to our weekly movie night?" And that's how the two of you ended up in his bed once again burger wrappers in hand while The Conjuring played in the back. You pulled the covers over your eyes and gripped Five's sleeve. "Why did you have to pick a scary movie. Five.. she's right behind Lorainne!" You jumped up and buried your face in his side. "I can't watch!" You cried. Five only chuckled and pulled you closer. "Shh, It's okay it's almost over." His voice soothed you. You peeked through your fingers for the ending. "I didn't take you to be a scared cat." He chuckled. "Me and my Five used to go on movie dates often. I remember the first day he took me too was at the movies and it was Insidious. I had no idea what it was and didn't research beforehand. But I had a feeling he did it on purpose because I was so terrified I was almost in his lap." You remembered your first day fondly. "Anyways I was so scared after the movie and after he drove me home that I had called him that night to talk and refused to hang up, just in case the monster got me. So he stayed up all night talking to me. I swear we talked until 5 am, about everything." It pained Five to know that these were memories of him, but not. He had risked everything for his family and given up so much of his life due to one mistake. Didn't he deserve this? You continued, "You want to know when I fell in love with you?" Five nodded. "We had 3 dates so far, not too fancy just dinner and the occasional movie. But the day I fell in love wasn't even planned"

----------------------October 15 2018-----------------------------------

You had just the shittiest day at work ever. Absolute garbage. You worked at Lancroft Banking, one of the world's biggest banks, so there was constant pressure and work. Today your boss had made snarky comments at you all day about how you messed up the calculation in the data that was supposed to go to their international team. It was a small era just due to the outdated information you received. But someone must've shat in his coffee that day because nonstop was he giving you backhanded comments. You cried your whole lunch break and texted Five that you were going to quit because of your shit boss ( just a bluff though).

After work, you were getting ready to head to the train when a bouquet of tulips infiltrated your view. Your eyes looked up to the giver of the beautiful flowers. "I heard my favorite girl had a hard day at work." You blushed at his words. "You were having a bad day, so I'm here to distract you. I've already picked up Thai from Mai Thai and got (your favorite dish). I have vanilla ice cream in my fridge and the entire (favorite movie) collection waiting for us at my place." You were shell-shocked. No one had ever taken the time to care for you like this. And it wasn't till you were driving in his car, ranting to him about your job when it hit you like a soft wave crashing in. You started to notice how his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the little flash of a dimple on his cheek. His responses faded into the background when a warm hand grabbed yours. The moment felt perfect, he felt perfect, not a flaw in your eyes. You had been in what you thought was love in high school. But this was different. No one had cared for you like this. I mean there was Diego who looked out for you in the police academy but Five? Five had taken the time to understand you, listen to you, talk to you. You thought to yourself, "I think...this is what love is."

-------------------------------Present ------------------------------------

"We dated for 2 years before you proposed." You said while admiring your ring. "This ring you had custom-made for me." You pushed your hand out to show off the diamond ring surrounded by two small emeralds. A thick silence came across the two of you. It was undeniable the attraction the two of you had for each other, but neither wanted to push the boundaries. They feared the consequences. You eventually had to go back home and Five eventually would have to move on. It was complicated. "Well, I'm a bit tired so I'm going to head to bed now. Good night (y/n) I'll see you tomorrow." Five lifted the covers, letting a cool breeze hit your legs before packing up the food and his laptop and retreating to the door. "Good night Five, sleep well." You responded. Your body ached for his closeness again, the feeling of comfort and solitude in a single person. Instead of calling out you just laid back in bed and closed your eyes replaying the last moments again and again you had before you fell through the portal. This was a mistake.

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Author's note: I know there are still a lot of unanswered questions but I'm just getting started! be on the lookout for pt 4!

I also just want to say I finally realized messages and inboxes are two different things so I was able to read some of your comments! Thank you so much to everyone who has written something nice, your comments make me want to keep writing and be better.

I will get around to some of the requests!

Masterlist 🖊️

Taglist : @cialovesklopp , @lovehatekill, @rosekeu , @iifrui

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#fanfic #five hargreaves #five hargreeves #five x y/n #five x reader #five x you #number five #tua fanfic #the umbrella academy #tua five #five tua #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five hargeeves x you #five hargeeves x y/n

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