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celtigxr · 14 hours ago

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THE PINK DREAD - CH. 24 (Masterlist)

Chapter Summary: "But the courage he had bolstered on his descent to the Black Dread crumbled at the sight before him." Word Count: 6499 CHAPTER WARNINGS: A n g s t 🥲, mention of the term dwarf, Aegon being weird with crab legs.

Series tags: Aemond x Plus size!OfC, Aegon x Plus size!OfC, Celtigar!ofc, Plot with Smut, mdni 18+, Aemond End Game, Angst, Comedy, The Dragons Don't Dance, slow burn, friends to enemies to lovers, enemies to friends to lovers.

Credits: Lace Banner by Aquazero, pearl divider by Pommecita

Notes: I hope y'all enjoy this chapter, and it was worth the wait.

Like every ball before this one, Aemond was in a state of agonizing torture for its duration. Though this feeling was tenfold for reasons that were clad in ivory, sitting before his family’s table at the far right, close but out of reach. The agitation that tightened his muscles and carved into his bones was unsettling as he tried to diagnose its origin. When did it start, when did it get worse, and when will it get the best of him? He tried to take a page out of his brother’s book and drown his emotions in wine, which did help his muscles relax, but beyond that, it was not a cure.

He sat on the far right end of the table, Aegon on his left, Helaena seated between him and Daeron, then their mother. On the Queen’s left was the King, his hand, and then sat Daemon, Jace, and Luke. The ten faced the entirety of the grand hall, within perfect view of everyone and the mind-numbing entertainment that followed. With Aegon cackling as he did, spitting out food and drink next to him, Aemond was very nearly at the end of his rope of patience. His only solace was that Lucerys was completely out of eye sight, because he was just as boisterous on his end of the table.

But her laughter and smile tethered him to the chair. Valeana became more and more of her old self when she drank, he realized. Perhaps a little more brazen when she is completely out of her wits, but still, he could see remnants of the little Valeana he once knew. Easily amused by crude humour and childish jokes, enraptured by stories that have been told a thousand different ways, awed by two-bit magicians who hide their cards in their sleeves so obviously, it pained him to witness. He remembered that one of her favourite tricks he used to do was pull a coin or a ring, a seashell or an interesting pebble from behind her ear.

She’d always demand him to tell her how he did it and he would deny her the satisfaction, because if she knew the trick he would never get to witness the awe in her face. He forced himself to bow his head when he found himself smiling at the memory. Luckily, no one saw him, least of all his own personal fool that sat right beside him.

There was a team of dwarves reenacting the battle of the Step Stones comically, with one man dressed as a red dragon, and the other as a giant crab. Aemond hardly paid attention, his eye too focused on Valeana’s profile to even register that Aegon turned to him until he spoke.

“Aemond,” his elder brother whispered harshly next to him. When Aemond did not respond, Aegon stressed his name again.

“What?”

“Maris is on the other side of the hall.”

When Aemond slowly turned to Aegon, he was met with a shit-eating grin that he desperately wanted to punch repeatedly.

Aegon went on, unperturbed by his brother’s threatening leer, “I just thought I’d remind you, since you seem to have forgotten her already.” He cleared his throat and flushed it down with wine before reaching out for a plate on his left and bringing it between them. “Try the crab legs, brother, they’re delicious.”

Aemond ran his tongue over his teeth, remaining silent lest he say something that his brother could use against him. Aegon plopped some of the legs onto his plate, and looked up at his younger brother.

Without breaking eye contact, he pulled up two legs that were still connected, “My favourite part is cracking them open before I slurp up their insides.”

Aemond’s hand curled around his dinner knife, knuckles white with the insatiable desire to plunge it into Aegon’s eye. Instead, he spoke lowly, only for his brother to hear, “Iksā iā qrīdropagon naejot īlva lentor.” (You are a disgrace to our family).

Aegon sucked up a piece of crab meat through the crack he made in the thigh, he chewed twice before swallowing, “You know I do not know what that means.”

Aemond slowly turned away from him, returning his eye back to Valeana and allowed his hand to relax from its grip on the knife. The dwarves’ play had ended and the fool’s bard, Quintyn Quicktongue, took over.

A short time later, the entertainers left the floor empty when the musicians began to play. It was not a formal dance, with no required steps and prior lessons to fulfill. Just mindless instrumentals for couples to dance at their leisure now that people were too into their cups to manage a more structured dance. Aegon slipped away sometime before that, muttering about needing to take a piss. He hobbled through the small exit behind them, probably to find a planter or a window to relieve himself in.

Now without his presence, Aemond was able to relax in his chair. He fiddled with the goblet in his hand, trying to keep his mind occupied with a checklist of duties, lest he allow the alcohol he had been consuming all evening take over his senses and make him impulsive. It was difficult, because the more feral part of his brain begged him for freedom, urging him that it would liberate his soul if he just acted upon instinct. And his instinct was telling him to spur Maris Baratheon and sweep Valeana Celtigar off her feet and kidnap her like some Ironborn savage does with a salt wife.

Before he could pull himself from his chair, his mother was at his side, leaning into his ear, commanding his attention with her sharp tone – the one he had always associated with motherhood.

“Ask Valeana to dance before your brother has a chance to make a fool of himself,” upon announcing her request, his eye flickered over to the girl in question. It was too late to even decide to listen to his mother, because Aegon had already got to the table, returning from wherever he went to slither in front of Valeana.

Aemond shared a look with his mother; he did not have to say a word, neither did she. Her lips pulled into a frow, and she settled back into her chair, glancing over to the Lord Hand.

The sight of Valeana smiling up at his brother and at how comfortable she appeared in his presence made his stomach churn. Aemond downed what remained in his goblet and swiftly stood up, excusing himself by planting a kiss on the side of Helaena’s head.

“Watch for salt-hungry eyes, Aemond. She will drown in them,” Hel’s warning only made him hesitate for a brief second. He was not in the headspace to decode his sister’s madness, so he just gave her a nod and left.

His departure had gained the eye of Maris, which he would rather avoid presently. Her neck lengthened as she tried to catch his attention from her table, but Aemond pretended he had not noticed, and instead slipped into the side entrance to the hall, into the corridor that was occupied by various guests and servants serving a variety of hand-held foods.

“Leaving already?” Ser Criston caught his attention. The kingsguard lingered against a wall, observing the patrons of the Ball diligently.

“I needed air,” Aemond confessed, leaning his shoulder against the wall next to him. “There are too many people in there.”

Cole nodded, “Every family in the Seven Kingdoms; even some Dornish families are here.”

A servant passed by with a platter of oysters on a bed of salt. The white cloak shook his head when offered, but Aemond needed to preoccupy his fidgety hands, so he plucked one off and then the servant left them to their conversation. The oysters were already pried open at the mouth, so a dirk wasn’t needed to shuck it open.

“Bit ironic serving those on Maiden’s Day,” Cole observed, watching as his prince slowly opened the oyster up, revealing the soft meat inside. “Oysters are aphrodisiacs, known to increase the libido of a grown man or woman, yet the pearls inside are symbols of virtue and virginity.”

Aemond did not say anything, instead took the half with the tongue and brought it to his lips, slurping up the salty meat in one go. There was something hard and pebbled that landed in his tongue when he swirled the morsel in his mouth. Taking the empty shell, he spit out a slightly lumpy black pearl.

“Hm,” he eyed it curiously.

Cole chuckled softly, “You found the lucky oyster, my Prince. Mayhaps you should give it to Lady Maris as a gift.”

At the mention of her name, Aemond rolled his tongue in his mouth and pursed his lips as if her name was a sour fruit he just tasted. Plucking the pearl from its natural plate, he rolled it around in his fingers, then tossed the shells onto a tray of another servant passing by.

“I am not certain of Lady Maris,” he confessed, his tongue loosened now in the presence of a man that he trusted. For a moment, his eye flickered towards the entrance when one of the Tyrell girls walked through with a tall man with dark hair and a wide, wolfish smile. His cloak told Aemond he was a Greyjoy, and his sharp blue eyes when they met Aemond’s cold lilac one told him he was Dalton.

“Prince Aemond,” the ironborn nodded, and the Tyrell curtsied when they passed by.

Aemond’s only response was a simmered glare and a flare of his nostrils.

Cole, oblivious to the interaction aside from a glance of acknowledgement, went on to ask why that was.

“It is a smart match, Aemond, and a compatible one. What is it that pulls you away from her?”

His fingers played around with the pearl in his palm, “She has started to bore me.”

There was clear exasperation in Cole’s features, distinctively paternal in its nature. “You are starting to sound like your brother.”

He might as well have called him a bastard and a coward, because being compared to Aegon was just as great of an insult. The pearl rolled along between his fingers, the lump pushing painfully against his skin as he clutched it.

“I do not wish to chain myself to a woman that I can lose regard for so easily,” he argued.

“Give it time, Aemond. Most marriages are not built on love and attraction initially. With Maris, you already have much in common, so much so that your conversations span hours I’ve noticed. You can do worse.”

But he could do better, much better. He wanted what was his all along, what was now being stolen by either his brother or his nephew. What could have been his, had it not been for his ego; had it not been for his over thinking mind at odds with his weak heart; had it not been for him allowing those around him to influence his motivations.

His mind drifted back to that day when he returned from a flight with Vhagar, where Valeana approached him at the main gate. She wished for peace and he had slighted her. His pride was wounded that day and he was spurred with the paranoia that she was a monster out to destroy him. Aemond rejected her, which he justified was the right thing to do, because she had hurt him when she ran into Aegon’s arms and bed, to do whatever it is they did in his bedchambers that night. It did not even cross his mind he might have driven her into his arms after what he had done to her in the library, because the sounds he heard that night ripped through his mind and down to his ribs, seizing him in anger and selfish pain.

Emboldened by a new wave of resentment at the mental reminder of his belief that Valeana was his brother’s newest lover, Aemond pulled himself off the wall and pocketed the pearl. He did not know the intricacies– nor understood them entirely –of Aegon’s arrangement he had with her. Whether it was built on the foundations of Valeana’s vengeance or Aegon’s innate desire to orchestrate chaos, it was clear that lust became a consequence of it. Mayhaps it began with Aegon, knowing his brother’s insatiable appetite for bodily pleasures, and with Valeana’s new nature of seeking out attention where she could, she was all too eager to allow Aegon to have his way. But then that begged the question: did Valeana take lovers before she came back? Was this a new trait that developed over the last decade?

Floris hadn’t mentioned in her rantings about Valeana luring men into her bed, she had only talked about Val’s need to seek out pity by mimicking a trapped spirit, pacing the corridors of her castle. Even as children, boys paid her little mind, unlike her younger sister Shyla, who was regarded as the prettiest of the three. Even Floris had suitors every once in a while, but her nature tended to send them in the opposite direction.

The cogs in Aemond’s mind turned and turned, and all Criston could do was watch him with a furrowed brow, and a concerned eye.

“My Prince, is everything alright?”

Then it struck him like a whip; harsher than the lashes he suffered as punishment for his crime against her.

Valeana never had lovers. She could not have, if the stories of her being reclusive were true. He’s never seen her around men at all, other than her own brothers and…

He shut his eye, feeling a headache spike at this temple.

Aegon was the first man to show her affection, and like a neglected puppy that didn’t know any better, she leaned into his touch willingly. And Aemond foolishly pushed her into his arms.

“I am fine,” he lied. “I just need some air.”

With that he left the knight to stand there in befuddlement. Aemond sped walked through hall after hall until he found a corner that was blessedly free of guests and of light. The sconce on the wall had burnt out, leaving the corner in blissful shadow, save for the moon that filtered through the small arched window. He leaned against the wall, snugged in the corner and immediately started to press his fingers into his temples. Aemond’s heart was pounding in his chest, steadily reminding him with every beat that his mind could not protect it any longer, because he was too much of a bloody fool.

He had managed to ease the tension in his skull after a while, and his heart rate lowered with the comfort of the darkness that hugged and shielded his figure. Though he could do nothing to cure the dull ache in his chest, because all he could see were her sad eyes that she only had for him. And her smile that now belonged to Aegon.

The sound of women’s shoes tapping against the flagstone in his direction made him freeze. He had no desire to see anyone, new or otherwise, but perhaps if he stayed as still as possible they would not notice him.

They didn’t, but he did. Her sudden appearance was electrifying in its fortuitous timing.

Valeana sped by him, head bowed as she braced a hand on her left thigh through her skirts. She appeared to be limping, though just barely, it was enough to spur Aemond into following her, veiling his yearning for her with a concern over her wellbeing. But as she rounded the corridor and found the entrance to the cellars below, he did not call out to her. Instead he hesitated until he heard her safely reach the bottom to Balerion’s resting place.

Aemond found himself in a state of uncertainty and fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of her ire. Fear of failing. Fear of heartbreak. Fear of her. He shut his eye and imagined Vhagar, a near two-century old beast; formidable, ancient, terrifying, battle-hardened, living longer than the beast below ever had. And he, Aemond Targaryen, claimed her, the oldest and largest dragon in the world, who has known more war and bloodshed than any dragon before her, post Doom of Valyria.

He could claim Valeana Celtigar too.

Hurdling down the spiral stairs, Aemond curled his fingers into a fist, bounding his will in determination and unwavering resolve. Swallowing his fear and reservation, much like he had done as a child approaching Vhagar, he forced himself to breach the line of no return.

But the courage he had bolstered on his descent to the Black Dread crumbled at the sight before him.

There Valeana sat upon the bench, her ivory and rose gown pulled up to the crest of her hip and thigh, where a leather corset was being tugged loose. Her pale knee peaked out through a gap between the harnesses that secured her thigh to the dark wooden appendage that was her leg. She had freed her thigh from the laced harness and then reached down to tug the wooden leg off with a groan of relief.

Aemond’s mouth popped open at the sight of her leg, bound in linen from the top of her calf and around the stump where muscle and bone cut off. Half her calf gone, her ankle, gone, her foot, gone. For the first time in years, he felt his vacant eye ache from socket to scar. The scarred tissue that was once his eyelids fluttered around the sapphire that now filled the empty space, feeling the ghost of the dagger that traumatized it for life.

His entire world came crashing down on him in the instant; everything that he thought he knew, and everything he said and did in the moon’s time that Valeana had returned. He had the knowledge that her leg was healed and she was able to walk, and while half was true, the evidence of his most heinous crime glared at him like his sapphire eye every morning in the looking glass.

Aemond’s memory begun to torture him as it spun and wove tapastries of his misdeeds. The library, where he had pushed her, the shoe he had found when he tried to find her. Dragging her drunkard self in haste through the castle by her wrists. How he made her run after his bloody horse, whilst she pleaded for reconciliation— gods, he felt sick.

The urge to flee from her was potent, but the leer of the Black Dread would not have his cowardice that day. Frozen in time, Aegon the Conqueror's dragon seemed to snarl at him for even considering it.

The whimper she let out from her lips as she massaged her thigh was what did him in. It just plunged him into the waters of his remorse and self-hatred. The shocking need to help her as he once did as children took control of his limbs and his lungs; it was instinct, despite his overwhelming dread and shame.

Her name on his lips and his step forward brought his presence known to her. Her spine straightened from the intrusion, and when her head whipped around to see him standing there, he knew she wasn’t prepared for anyone to find her in that state, least of all him.

Lightning surely struck down her spine. The level of shock and dread that filled her to see him standing there, witnessing her in this state was a whole nother level of humiliating. Every hair on her body raised on end as her mind frantically went into survival mode. Valeana forced her trembling arms and hands to move and grab her prosthetic to put it back on, but she fumbled, and the wooden appendage clattered on the floor, causing her to gasp a soft: ‘no!’

Aemond was there in an instant, on his knee at her side and grasping her prosthetic with tender hands. Had she not been in such a fretful mind, she would have noticed how his fingers trembled just as much as hers.

“Here, let me–”

“No–” She wretched her leg from his hands with a sniffle. Without looking at him, she quickly slotted her stump into place and adjusted her knee around the leather harnesses. Lacing the corset to secure it around her thigh was another challenge though, because with her shaking digits she was having a difficult time weaving the strings through the holes.

His balmy hand stopped hers and she couldn’t help but flinch and freeze under the contact. By now she was looking down at her leg through a blurred veil of salty tears, barely witnessing his fingers delicately lace the corset, one hole at a time. Valeana forced herself to sit still, concentrating on the hum of music above them and the short laboured breaths she was allowing herself. When Aemond got to the end of the corset, he tugged at the strings, causing her to flinch.

“Is that too tight?” His question was as soft as his touch, and it made her chest ache.

“No… No, it’s perfect.”

At her approval, he began to tie the laces, twice to secure its place. Once he was done, his fingers did not move from her thigh. They remained where they were, above the hemline where leather met flesh. His thumb moved along the stitching and over her soft skin. His touch felt like licks of fire and every time it happened, her teeth sunk further into her lip to stop herself from making a noise. Eventually Aemond’s hands journeyed south, stopping at the peak of her white knee through the dark material, and that is where his head dipped until his nose hovered over the joint, almost as if he was going to kiss it.

“Does it hurt?” The question was so silent that she thought she had imagined it.

Swallowing, she shook her head and answered tentatively, “I’m used to it.”

The admittance sent a shuddered breath through him, making his shoulders buckle at the weight of his transgressions. She could feel his hands gently tighten around the curve of her knee, even through the leather harnesses that framed it. Then his forehead fell onto her thigh, which was a strong enough gesture for her to shut her eyes and free the tears that clung to her lashes.

After a while she could hear and feel him speak; the vibrations of his timbered voice rattled her joints and burned her skin.

“Valeana, I had no idea–”

Her sadness and longing battled her anger and her resentment. She wanted this, didn’t she? She wanted him on his knees, to kiss the wound he inflicted on her, and beg her for her forgiveness. She wanted him to want her, to feel his fingers on her exposed skin. But why now? Why did he cave now, after all this time? Spurring her at every interaction, then coming close and then pulling away with such animosity she was convinced that she was the one who pulled out his eye.

Was it because she was now coveted by two other men? Aegon did say that Aemond was possessive when his things were being used by others. This is what the plan was afterall, but now it was coming into fruition it just tasted bittersweet. If she was not with Aegon, if Jace was not tasked with the mission to woo her into a betrothal, would Aemond be there with her, or would he be dancing with Maris until the hour of the wolf?

Ultimately her anger won, despite her sadness dampening its rigid edges. Even in the softness of her tone, the bite was still there when she spoke.

“It does not matter, Aemond,” she pushed away his shoulders, shoving him away from her leg so she could return her skirts and preserve her dignity. “Leg, or no leg, the consequence of your actions has cost us a friendship we’ve developed since infancy, if there ever was one.”

She might as well have taken his own sword and shoved it through his chest. Aemond’s head was still bowed, incapable of looking at her and facing the truth of her words. He was a man defeated, something that Valeana had tried to manifest for half her life in the privacy of her own mind. Though she could not help feeling that she was just as defeated as well, because her loss had never been rectified.

“I will make it up to you,” again, he spoke so softly it was painful to hear it.

“I am done trying to forgive you–”

“I know,” his voice rose a desperate octave, but then returned to its original state. “I know I do not deserve it. But, I will rectify all that I’ve done.”

Valeana shut her eyes tightly. She was so tired of getting hurt by this man, but somehow she was incapable of refusing to move from his storm of arrows that penetrated her body over and over again. And now that she was the one with the bow, she found it was difficult to let go of the string.

“Do not bother, Aemond,” she forced herself to say. Her voice strained at the resistance of her heart. “Mayhaps it is better if we part ways equally. You with Maris, and I with–”

“No! Do not say it,” the sudden rise of volume jostled her. Now she had no choice but to look at him. His lilac eye glistened with unshed tears, a sight of which she did not think was possible on Aemond Targaryen. His nose was pink, and his lips were plush and swollen as they wobbled. There was a faint pull she felt under her skin, giving her the sudden need to capture those lips with her own. But she refrained.

“I do not want her,” Aemond continued, pushing those words through his teeth with a low growl. “I want… I want you. I-I need you.” His other knee met the floor, the weight of his grief causing him to sink into her lap. Aemond’s forehead and nose buried itself in the valley between her skirt-covered legs and his hands desperately grasped onto her phantom limb, tugging it to chest.

“I miss you.”

Valeana’s will absolutely crumbled. She let out a world-shattering sob; the air that left her lungs was the breath she had been holding in for ten years. Her body folded over him, with her own desperate hands flinging onto his shoulders and fingers tangling in his hair.

“I miss you too.”

Aemond sharply inhaled as if his bodily instinct was to try to repress any sound that would betray how vulnerable he was. His shoulders tensed under her before he slowly lifted his head from her lap. They were so close that their noses bumped into each other. Through the blur of tears she concentrated on his good eye, while her right hand shifted down to his cheek, where her thumb grazed the ridge of his scar.He shut his eye when he felt her digit dip underneath his patch and slowly pushed it over his forehead, leaving him completely bare before her.

Valeana swallowed as she gazed upon the endless sea of his sapphire eye, framed by the gnarled pinked flesh that used to be his eyelids. It twitched underneath the light touch of her fingertips, and she wondered if it still pained him like her leg. She wondered if there were times he thought he could feel his eye, or his lashes graze his cheeks when he blinked. She wondered if it was the most painful thing in the world when it happened. Her forehead slowly landed on his brow, her lips hovering over his gem eye, nose buried in the corner of it.

They were just two broken individuals, trying to fill their empty spaces with each other.

“I thought you hated me,” his whisper reached her ear, tickling the hair strewn against her face.

“I thought I did too,” she replied, voice soft and coarse. “I wanted to. But even when you made it so easy for me to–And I do mean easy.”

The corner of Aemond’s lip twitched ruefully, and his grip on her leg tightened closer to his chest.

“I couldn’t,” she finished, brushing her fingers through his hair. He leaned into her touch, letting their noses bump and align with each other. She swallowed thickly when she was staring back at his beautiful lilac eye, framed by his dark blonde eyelashes so long she could feel them ghost her own. “Why did you push me?”

A question that he dreaded to answer, but she deserved one nonetheless. She felt his hand move from her leg to cup the side of her face, fingers curling around the shell of her ear and thumb roaming over the mound of her cheek, collecting the tears under his calloused pad.

“I was terrified of you. Of what you were doing to me,” he shifted between her legs, adjusting himself so he was now holding both sides of her face. Aemond pulled away from her so he could look at her properly, earnestly, “I have been childish and cruel to you, my friend. I am so sorry, Valeana… For everything I’ve taken from you. For everything I’ve done since then. And I know… I know I pushed your heart into… his hands.”

Valeana closed her eyes and sniffed deeply at the mention of Aegon. A new feeling that she was not accustomed to, that she was not willing to let go just yet. It tugged at her heart in the knowledge of her own conflicted mind. Had it been weeks ago, even when her resentment was fresh and untethered, she would have taken Aemond right then and there. Defiled her white dress and committed her body, heart and soul to him in sickness and in health. But even in his groveling, his heartfelt apology that her soul desperately craved, the apprehension gripped her throat. She was afraid to get hurt again, afraid that she will find another mistake in Aemond, afraid that she may never forgive him. But now she found something uncomplicated.

Aegon felt safe, Aegon felt secure, but Aegon also felt… unknown.

“But I will spend the rest of my life in dedication in the pursuit of being worthy of your forgiveness. Worthy of your touch. Worthy of your lips. Worthy of the air you breathe. I need you to know that I am yours, should you still want me. If you ever did.”

“Aemond I–” she desperately wanted to say it. There was a visceral need to tell him she always did, but that doubt clawed at her throat, preventing her heart from speaking on her behalf. “My life has become so complicated. My father wants me to try to court Jacaerys at his behest, and then there’s—”

“Shh,” he gently hushed her with urgency, desperately wanting to keep his name from her lips. “You need not decide now. Take your time. I’ll wait for you.” Aemond gently nudged her face down so he could place a kiss upon her forehead, and that’s where his lips hovered. “But I only ask for one thing.”

Valeana blinked rapidly, trying to clear the remnants of her tears, “What is it?”

“Dance with me,” he pulled away to look upon her again. “It has been my greatest desire all eve.”

Her brow slightly furrowed as she continued to blink, an expression so adorable he could not help but smile at it.

“I do not think I am in the right state of mind to go back upstairs, Aemond.”

The prince gently shook his head, “Not up there. Right here, where our only witness is Balerion’s ghost.”

At the mention of the dragon, her eyes shift over to the massive skull that had been staring upon them the entire time. Valeana almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it; imagining the largest dragon to ever exist being forced to watch such a pathetic display of human emotion. She did not know anything about the dragon’s temperament, but she doubted Aegon the First’s dragon was as sentimental as Dreamfyre or even Syrax.

Valeana returned her eyes onto Aemond, a small smile breaking her pout as she gave a single nod, “I think I can handle that.”

They ascended with Aemond’s firm but gentle grip on her arms. He handled her as if she was just learning how to walk again, as if her legs would collapse underneath her if he let go. Her leg had a dull ache, but it was barely there compared to the state it was minutes ago. When they stood at full height, they took a moment to assess each other as if for the first time in years.

Valeana reached out and fixed his eye patch, securing it over his eye, and cleaned up the stray hairs and righted his skewed circlet. Aemond brushed his fingers over her ear, tucking back wayward stands before moving to her neck where he adjusted her simple white gold and ruby necklace.

Once they were satisfied, Aemond's hand found the small of her back and the other took her’s before pulling her body into him. Valeana’s other hand found Aemond’s shoulder with ease and now with her chest pressed against his, she had to crane her neck to look up at him. There was still the hum of music above, subtle enough that they were able to hear their own breathing, but loud enough that they could find a rhythm to their movements.

No words were spoken, just peridot and amethyst staring into each other. There was no extravagance to their waltz; their steps were slow and shallow, but they moved around in a circle before Balerion in grace and poise.

“You’ve gotten better,” Valeana broke the silence, the comment lifting the heaviness of the mood that they had sowed earlier.

“Hm,” Aemond allowed himself to smirk, “I had a good teacher.”

Her lips twitched as her smile broadened, filling his chest with warmth and hope. “You were a terrible student.”

“Mayhaps it was because I was distracted.”

“Distracted by what? We were alone.”

He hummed in amusement, his head bowed slightly so his nose grazed over the crest of her head. She spotted his tongue flick out and run over his coiled lip, causing a ripple of heat go through her body.

“You developed breasts then, and they were so soundly pressed against me–”

“Oh my gods, Aemond,” she buried her face into his shoulder when her face burned. “You were a little pervert all along.”

He chuckled whilst nuzzling into her hair. A rare sound, one that she had not heard for half her life. It was sweeter than strawberries and richer than whipped cream.

“You left bruises, you know,” Val emboldened herself to say, then pulled her face from his shoulder to meet his furrowed brow. “From the other night… You littered me with bruises.”

At the realization of what she meant, his head tilted with a little sparkle in his eye. His lips curved, reminding her of a mischievous little fox. Suddenly Aemond’s hand slid from her back to her front, his long nimble fingers finding the neckline of her bodice.

“May I see?”

“Aemond!” She swatted his hand away, ignoring the spike of excitement that it brought her. His response was more chuckles, a gift to her ears. Then his hand moved to the side of her face where he pulled her head closer to him so he could plant a kiss upon her forehead, thus causing a frenzy of butterflies in her belly.

This was so very strange if she thought too much about it. Who was this man, and what did he do with Aemond One-Eye? He was almost too familiar to the Aemond she once knew.

“He’s the same boy you loved, Valeana. Just older, more scarred, and hidden away.”

Valeana smiled to herself. She supposed she found him then. Lifting her head back up, she moved her hand from his shoulder to cup his cheek. The motion made him hum in contentment, leaning into the warmth of her palm before turning his face so he could place a kiss upon it.

Aemond’s eye flickered then, moving to the side of her face. He blinked a few times before pausing their dancing so he could raise his hand towards her cheek.

“One moment,” his lips pursed, “You have something just there–”

He tentatively reached towards her ear, and then with a flick of his wrist he pulled his hand in front of her, cradling a chromatic black pearl with a green sheen and a little lump at the top between his fingers.

Valeana’s eyes bugged out of her head at the sight of it, her hands flying to her ear as if she would find more hidden behind the cartilage. Aemond’s smile broadened at her reaction, which had never changed after all these years.

“How did you– Did you have that this entire time?”

“It was behind your ear–”

“Oh stop,” she playfully chastised, with a limp smack of her hand.

He quickly took it and gently placed the pearl in the center of her palm, “For you.”

Valeana eyed the precious marble in her palm. She knew its worth, since black pearls were rare, particularly one with this colouring. Though she doubted he cared much for its worth, what made it truly special was how it was given to her, like a promise that they will return to the children they once were.

Aemond’s hands curled around her own, wrapping up the pearl in their fingers. She looked up at him, marveling at his face now that it was so close. He was always so handsome, but now he was ethereal. Angular features cut from marble, crafted by the Valyrian gods. His lips were always her favourite part of his features, next to his unworldly lilac eyes that felt far too soft for a man like him.

They inched closer, bridging whatever gap that remained between their bodies. But before their noses could even bump into each other, an intrusive voice cut through their peace like a Valyrian steel sword slicing through someone’s skull.

“Oh, well, isn’t this a touching sight.”

Aemond and Valeana spun around towards the threshold of the stairwell, both instinctively unlatching from each other at being caught in a compromising position.

Leaning against the archway, his hands clasped in front of him, the older prince peered at them with a mocking sense of beguilement.

“Did I interrupt something innocent, or was dear ol’ Balerion going to bear witness to a deflowering, on Maiden’s Day no less?” Daemon’s eyebrows raised to his hairline, the corner of his mouth tugging into a roguish smirk.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE SNEAK PEAK:

“Who is he?” Valeana asked, narrowing her eyes at him. He seemed familiar, but from this height, she could barely make out his face through all the dirt and sweat. She took a sip of her drink in contemplation. “Dalton Greyjoy.” And then she spat out her drink.

Notes: Hokay *wipes sweat* we've gone over the enemies arc. Now path to redemption...right? RIGHT? I hope you guys liked this chapter, it was difficult to write, because I wasn't sure if it was satisfying enough. But don't worry, for those that want him to suffer a lil more -- he will. We're almost halfway through the story. Or a little less. I honestly don't know how many chapters this will become. So I'm going to slow down updates to once a week, because now I'm writing more than two stories at the same time. For those who missed it, I'm in the middle of making a lengthy fem!Aegon one shot for funsies...cept it's not very fun, it's actually quite sad :') Hopefully I'll get that finished by wednesday or before.

Tag: @queen-of-elves, @keylin1730, @anakilusmos, @weepingfashionwritingplaid, @sugutoad, @desireangel

( if you wish to be tagged for this story, just give me a reply! )

Please do not re post, redistribute or plagiarize my work. The only other place this story is posted on is ao3 under the same username.

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cobbbvanth · 7 hours ago

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the culture impact of glee, for the uninitiated

okay YEAH I'm starting glee discourse in the year of our lord 2024 due to recent events on the gay firefighter show. so for those who don't understand why josh's speech on 911 this week was so important, here's a brief run down of the impact glee had on queer history.

glee, also created by ryan murphy, began airing in 2009 and ran for six seasons before ending in 2015. for all ryan murphy's crimes™, his contribution to queer representation in media has been incredibly influential especially in the early 2000s-2010s. at age nine, kurt hummel from glee and mitch and cam from modern family were the first queer characters I remember encountering. representation of any kind was still so hard to come by on television, let alone stories where queer characters got to have happy endings. in 2009, chris colfer (who played kurt on glee) was one of the youngest openly gay actors in hollywood, being just 19 years old when they started the show. throughout its run, glee introduced several additional queer characters and story lines that dealt with real issues queer people experienced such as being closeted, coming out, homophobia - external and internal.

only 33% of Americans supported same-sex marriage when glee started airing, and "even among millennials — Glee’s target audience — just 51% were in favour at the time."

the support for marriage equality jumped to a record high of 60% as glee was airing it's final episodes. same sex marriage was legalised in the usa in 2015, just months after the final episode of glee aired. a season six episode features a double wedding for a wlw couple and a mlm couple where a lesbian, a bisexual woman and two gay men get to experience a day of joy and celebration surrounded by friends and family, despite having to cross state lines to marry legally. and yes, as stated in the above quote from this article and the speech josh gave on 911 this week, glee had its fair share of problematic moments. plenty of stuff on that show (as is the case with many ryan murphy shows) is not what we'd class as "good representation" today. and it's not perfect yet either. biphobia is still prevalent in bisexual arcs, wlw representation is still far behind mlm representation, and it's hard to convince networks to go for anything that's not cis male queer rep. but it's important to show grace for the media that helped us get to the state of queer representation we do have now. shows like glee have been credited with changing the minds of many of the people who were initially against marriage equality, purely by exposing them to stories about lgbtq+ people and their experiences. and glee was HUGE. one of the biggest shows on television when it was airing - it brought in millions of viewers weekly, hundreds of glee covers climbed the charts, it won awards, the cast sold out national and international tours. we get to have characters like josh and hen and karen and buck and tommy BECAUSE OF shows like glee that came before. so yeah, it wasn't just ryan murphy worship on another ryan murphy show, the pre-glee/post-glee timeline was a "genuine unit of culture measurement" as @autisticjoshrusso put it here.

on a personal level: I watched glee every week as it aired from age 9 to 15. so much of the way that I am today (my sense of humour, my love for performing, my taste in music) is because of this show. I've seen it countless times, but didn't fully realise how much it meant to me as a piece of queer media until I was in my early 20s, so this is a topic I'm very passionate about. I owe ryan murphy my life and I also want to hit him with my car <3 anyway. stream teenage dream (glee cast version)

#911 #911 abc #911 spoilers #glee #josh russo #evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #text

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raysrays · 19 hours ago

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Fatal Attraction Chapter Six (NSFW)

18+ MDNI‼️

CW for the entire story: Breeding, Size Difference, Size Kink, Jealousy, Scent Marking, Age Difference, Vaginal Sex, Possessive Behavior, Angst, Twisted, Creampie, Angry Sex, Anal sex, Vaginal Fingering, Hair-pulling, Biting, Master/Pet, Light Dom/sub, Violence, Knotting.

Content disclaimer: This story is inspired by the amazing artist @PammyJammy117 on Twitter/X/Bluesky. I in absolutely no way own or claim the idea of the "Cryptid Rengoku" character. Please give credit to the original artist who inspired the story.

*Please read authors note at the end! <3

Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five.

Y/N Perspective.

It was finally the day, the day I’d leave with Tamayo and Yushiro to search for Giyu Tomioka. Kyojuro had sulked all morning, his mood dark despite granting me permission. Apparently, agreeing doesn’t mean acting mature about it.

I stopped by his den, knowing I wouldn’t see him for a while. Which… would be strange, considering I’ve gotten used to seeing him almost every day.

I ran my fingers through the thick fur between his ears, gently massaging. His tail coiled around my thigh, pulling me closer, as he leaned into my touch like a cat.

“I don’t want you to go,” his voice, low and resonant, echoed around us. “Stay here with me. Forget this nonsense of traveling. I’ll keep you warm, and fulfilled… you know I can.” His words dripped with persuasion.

I smiled softly, tracing the edges of his ears. “I’ll be back soon, you know that. Time will fly by, I promise,” I tried, my voice tender, though the reassurance felt weak.

His ears twitched, flattening with frustration. “My mate is leaving me… for who knows how long. I’ll miss you.”

My heart clenched, unfamiliar pain filling the space between us. I had never seen him like this, it’s more of a sad begging than an anger.

I continued to stroke the soft fur along his head and shoulders, pressing gentle kisses between his eyes and on his forehead. His purring and soft clicks were a small comfort, a sign that I was soothing him. When I pulled back to look at him, though, his expression still seemed sad. It was hard to believe that this was the same cryptid monster that scared half the world. Right now, he looked more like a big, heartbroken puppy.

“I have to go, Kyojuro… but I promise I’ll be back soon! And when I return, I’ll bring so many food offerings, you won’t know what to do with them all.” I smiled brightly, hoping to lift his mood.

It worked. His ears perked up, and that familiar sharp, toothy grin spread across his face.

“You… you really mean it?” His voice had a spark of excitement.

I laughed, unable to resist how cute he was in this moment. “Of course! I promise.”

Suddenly, his tail coiled around my waist, pulling me up to his height until we were eye-to-eye. He pressed his forehead against mine, the touch warm and intimate.

“You will come back to me,” he murmured, his tone soft but commanding. “I won’t let you stay away for long. You are mine… my mate. I don’t want anything else to try and take you away.”

His voice was gentle but firm, leaving no room for argument. Not that I wanted to. The truth was, I wasn’t planning to run.

I know now, I’m falling in love with this cryptid, I’m falling in love with kyojuro…

I felt his tail tighten around my waist, and his teeth grazed my skin in warning nips.

“Just hold still,” he growled low, the rumble vibrating against me.

Before I had time to process, a sharp, burning pain shot through me as his teeth sank into the flesh where my neck met my shoulder. I gasped, my fingers clutching the fur on his shoulders, holding on as the sting pulsed through me. After a moment, he withdrew, licking the blood from his lips.

“Forgive me, little human,” he murmured, his tone almost tender. “But I need my marks fresh before you go. My scent must linger.”

I nodded weakly. No matter how many times he did this, it never got easier. But if it meant he’d let me go, I wasn’t going to fight him. I’d just have to cover it up with my clothes and bandages later.

He leaned in, licking the blood from my neck and shoulder, his touch both cleaning and claiming.

“Go now,” he commanded softly, his voice lingering in my ear. “But don’t take too long. Tomioka may not be the most vicious monster… but he’s not one to underestimate.”

“I understand,” I replied, managing a small smile. “I’ll keep my guard up.”

His gaze lingered on me for a long moment before his grip loosened, and he set me gently back down.

“Farewell, my mate. Be careful,” he said, his voice softened now, almost vulnerable.

I gave him one last reassuring smile before turning to leave the den, the weight of his gaze still on me as I walked away. As I made my way back to the safe house, the tension in my chest slowly eased.

When I arrived, Tamayo and Yushiro were busy preparing medical supplies.

Yushiro glanced up as I emerged from the woods, his expression a mix of confusion and irritation.

“What the hell were you doing out there? You should be helping us pack,” he snapped, his voice laced with annoyance.

“Sorry… just doing some last-minute searching,” I said, chuckling awkwardly.

That was such a terrible excuse…

“Searching? For what, exactly?” he scoffed, clearly unconvinced.

“It doesn’t matter,” Tamayo cut in, her tone gentle but firm. “Y/N, go finish gathering the rest of the supplies.”

I silently thanked her for the save and hurried inside to help with the packing, the dull ache in my shoulder still nagging at me.

————————

Once everything was loaded up, we set out on the road. Climbing uphill, lugging bags full of supplies. This was definitely the last thing I wanted to be doing.

The air grew colder as we traveled further north, though it wasn’t unbearable yet. Still, it made me miss Kyojuro’s warmth, the way he’d wrap himself around me, engulfing me in his heat, making even the coldest nights bearable.

But for now, I pressed on. I made small talk with Tamayo and Yushiro, though the conversation mostly revolved around Giyu Tomioka and what we might face if we encountered him.

If I’m being honest, the thought made me nervous. As Kyojuro’s mate, Tomioka would undoubtedly pick up on his scent, a fellow Hashira’s scent. What concerned me was how he’d react. Would he respect it… or take it as a challenge?

The journey to our destination took about three days. We had to camp out multiple times and take frequent breaks because of the brutal weather. The northern shore was nestled in one of the most inconvenient, hard to reach places.

And this “beach” was anything but inviting. Jagged rocks in place of sand, a gloomy atmosphere hanging over us, and a biting chill in the air. It was a stark contrast to Kyojuro’s warm, vibrant territory.

But then I reminded myself: Giyu Tomioka is known as “The Kraken Hybrid.” A place like this, dark and cold, made far more sense for him than any forest ever would.

“We’re at the heart of it now,” Tamayo announced, her voice cutting through the wind. “We’ll set up camp and the research stations here.”

Yushiro and I exchanged a glance and got to work, picking a spot close enough to keep an eye on the waters but far enough from the high tides that we wouldn’t be caught off guard.

Our setup was decent, but Tamayo hadn’t mentioned how long she planned to stay here. Given the conditions, I hoped it wouldn’t be long.

I was debating whether to head out on my own to try and find Tomioka. With Kyojuro’s scent still on me, he’d be more likely to approach if I was alone. I didn’t want a repeat of what happened in Shinazugawa’s territory, these monsters are cautious around groups. It’s the same with Kyojuro. There’s no way he wasn’t aware of Tamayo’s safe house at the edge of his forest. He had to have known.

Tamayo’s spent her life researching and hunting these creatures, yet none of them have ever come near her. I don’t understand it. Still, I’m determined to bring her something, proof that her years of hard work weren’t all based on conspiracies and old folklore.

I’m hopeful. If we just keep looking, we’ll find something.

It took the rest of the evening to set everything up, and by the time we finished, we were all exhausted. Tamayo eventually sent Yushiro and me to fish by the shoreline. As usual, the silence between us was heavy, almost awkward. I never understood why she was so insistent on pairing us together for tasks like this.

When we got back with our catch, we started a small fire and cooked the fish. Surprisingly, it tasted pretty good, though I couldn’t help but think how much better it would’ve been with the right herbs and spices.

“We’ll rest tonight and begin our search tomorrow,” Tamayo said as we ate. “I want to stay for at least four days, long enough to find something of value.”

Yushiro glanced up from his food. “None of us are familiar with this territory. Where exactly do we start?”

Tamayo paused, considering his question for a moment before responding. “We’ll split up. Y/N, you’ll take one side of the shore, and Yushiro will take the other. Go as far as you can. I’ll cover the beach and the cliffs.”

I looked at her, concern creeping in. “Are you sure that’s safe? That’s a lot of ground to cover on your own.”

She smiled softly, her eyes calm but resolute. “I’ll be fine. You two focus on the shoreline. Pay attention to the water, if there’s any sign of activity, report it. We’ll meet back here before sunset.”

“Understood.” I nodded, but as I stared down at my lap, a dull sting pulsed in my shoulder. Kyojuro’s mark was deeper this time, more intense than usual. Even now, I could still feel the lingering burn of his claim.

I did my best to ignore the ache of the cold as we settled in for the night. The chill seemed to cut deeper out here; Kyojuro’s warm den had really spoiled me.

The ocean’s steady rhythm was soothing, the waves crashing, the wind sweeping through. If only it weren’t so cold, I could almost imagine this place as paradise.

By morning, the sun barely touched the sky. This place seemed locked in a gloomy haze, with a heavy, off-putting atmosphere hanging over everything.

Yushiro and I followed Tamayo’s plan, starting from the center of the shoreline and walking in opposite directions. It was growing frustrating. No matter how far I walked or how long I looked, there was nothing. no sign, no trace, nothing to even hint that something might be lurking here. I found myself scanning the waves for anything, but the ocean remained silent.

This went on for two days. Each morning, we repeated the same routine, and each evening we returned to camp empty-handed. Yushiro’s patience was thinning with each frigid, uneventful day. He’d begun pestering Tamayo to abandon the search early and return home.

But I was convinced we would find something. We had to. I knew these creatures were real. And Giyu Tomioka was out there somewhere.

As the day slipped into night quickly. I sat by the fire, restless and frustrated as Tamayo and Yushiro slept. Was the Kraken Hybrid really this elusive?

Unable to shake the feeling, I rose from my sleeping bag and wandered down to the shoreline, watching the stars scatter across the sky. For all the cloudiness in the mornings, the night sky was surprisingly clear, blanketed in starlight.

I paced along the familiar stretch of beach I’d walked each morning, trying to clear my mind. Of course, Tomioka wasn’t going to just reveal himself to a group of human hunters. He wasn’t foolish, but his ability to stay hidden was annoying.

I walked until the glow of our campfire faded into the distance. Just as I decided to turn back, a splash broke the quiet of the ocean. I whipped my head toward the sound, my heart leaping as I watched ripples spreading across the water. That was no wave… what was it?

Before I could react, something slick and cold wrapped around my ankle. I looked down, my stomach twisting as I saw what looked like a tentacle coiling tightly around me. Then, with a sudden, forceful pull, I was yanked off my feet, hitting the gravelly shore before plunging into the freezing water.

Panic seized me. Saltwater stung my eyes, blurring my vision, but I forced them open. A pair of deep blue eyes stared back at me, unblinking, intense, a stoic gaze that sent a shiver through me despite the water’s chill.

My lungs burned, my heart racing as I tried to pull myself together. I needed air. Desperately, I struggled, kicking hard and paddling toward the surface.

Finally, I broke free, gasping and coughing, my throat raw from the saltwater. My nose ran, my eyes were bloodshot, and my limbs ached from the struggle. But as I gulped down fresh air, I realized something with a strange, thrilling certainty.

I had just encountered Giyu Tomioka.

Shit.

I struggled to paddle toward the shore, my lungs heaving as I gulped for air. The shock of the icy water set my body trembling.

I barely had a moment before another slick tentacle wound around my wrist, followed by another around my ankle, pulling me back. I turned, eyes widening as a dark figure began to emerge from the depths, moving closer to the shore, water cascading down its form.

As my vision cleared, I took him in. Long hair, dark as midnight, framed a face with eyes as deep and cold as the ocean itself. His upper body was muscular, almost human, though gills lined his abdomen. But his lower half tentacles, thick and sinuous, replaced what should have been legs. Despite his stoic expression, he was… beautiful, in a chilling, otherworldly way.

“Why are you here?” he asked, his voice low, resonant.

I hesitated, my mind scrambling for the right words. “My name is Y/N L/N. I’m… a researcher.” That sounded better than ‘hunter.’ “I’m here with—”

His gaze swept over me, his tentacles tightening around my limbs, pinning me effortlessly.

“No… that’s not who you are,” he murmured, his eyes narrowing as he focused on my neck, where Kyojuro’s mark lay hidden beneath my shirt.

“You’re Rengoku’s mate,” he said flatly, a hint of distaste in his tone. “I can smell him all over you. So, tell me, what business does his mate have this far from his territory? You’re miles beyond his borders.” His voice took on a harder edge, and a flicker of irritation crossed his face.

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. He knows who I am, and he definitely doesn’t look thrilled about it.

“Yes, I know I’m far from where I’m supposed to be. But I wasn’t lying, I really am a researcher. And as you’ve probably already guessed, I’m not alone here. To keep it brief, I’m here with my team to prove your existence.”

He blinked, expression blank, then raised a brow. “And you expect me to just expose myself to humans? To become some exhibit in the name of ‘research?’” His voice sharpened, irritation clear.

Damn it. Why was I phrasing this so badly?

“N-no, that’s not what I mean!” I stammered. “We’re only looking for proof that monsters once existed… without disturbing any of you.” I tried to explain, but my words still sounded flimsy.

He tilted his head slightly, watching me intently.

“We’re searching for evidence, anything to show that the guardians of this world weren’t just myths,” I added, my voice betraying my nerves.

“So, you trekked all the way here just to prove I exist?” he asked, his tone skeptical.

I nodded. “Yes. I mean, I know about the Hashira… obviously, since I’m Kyojuro’s mate. But—”

“But you couldn’t sell him out,” he interrupted, his gaze piercing. “Not even for the sake of ‘research,’ could you?”

I let out a sigh, feeling both frustrated and exposed. Was I really that easy to read?

He studied me with an unsettling intensity, his deep blue eyes flickering with something unreadable. His grip didn’t loosen, the tentacles wrapped around my wrist and ankle holding firm.

"How foolish," he finally said, voice low and cold. “Humans always believe they can wade into waters they don’t belong in and remain unscathed. Do you even truly understand what you're meddling with?"

"I… I think I do," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, though my pulse was pounding in my ears. "We don’t want to interfere; we’re just searching for traces, something to prove that monsters, your kind… existed. It’s about respecting history, preserving the truth.”

He gave a quiet scoff, his grip tightening, almost like he was testing my strength. "History. Truth. Words humans cling to when they’re desperate for answers. But do you really want to know the truth?" He leaned closer, his breath brushing my skin like a cold breeze. “What will you do when you find it, human? What will you do when it terrifies you? It appears Rengoku has not told you enough. That alone is concerning.”

What, What does that mean?

My mouth went dry, but I held his gaze. "I’ll face it. Because… some of us still believe in what you once were. Guardians. Protectors."

He stilled, his expression hard to read, but something softened in his eyes, a flicker of surprise.

“You think we still carry that purpose? That we owe humans anything?” His voice was a mix of bitterness and curiosity, a quiet challenge in his tone.

I swallowed, choosing my words carefully. “I think… your existence isn’t owed to anyone. But maybe there’s a reason you’re still here, and maybe we’re meant to remember that reason.”

He looked at me for a long moment, his face unreadable, then released a deep sigh, as though weary.

“Fine. Out of peace and my small remaining of respect for Rengoku. You and your group can stay… for now,” he said at last, his voice almost a reluctant murmur. “But you’ll find nothing else. That will have to make do for you.” His tentacles released me, revealing the suction marks on my arm and leg.

I nodded, a small flicker of relief sparking in my chest, even as my heart still raced.

“Don’t return here with such a foolish reason. Rengoku and I have a truce but it would be irresponsible to abuse it,” he warned, his grip easing as he let me go, leaving my skin cold without his touch. “I’ll be watching. And if I sense even a hint of disrespect, I will not be so forgiving. You and your people will leave soon. I don’t wish to see you return any time soon.” He spoke coldly.

“Yes… I understand.” I finally manage to choke out.

His blue eyes glowed in the night.

"Y/N L/N," he murmured, his voice cold and unyielding, "you’d be wise to tread carefully. There are other Hashira who would not be as… forgiving, so long as you bear that mark. If Rengoku has led you to believe he has no enemies, then he’s as much of a liar as I remember."

With that, he slipped back into the waves, the dark water swallowing him until there was nothing left but silence.

I stood there, reeling. His words echoed in my mind, unsettling and sharp.

A liar? Kyojuro? No… that can’t be right. Kyojuro may be fierce, even terrifying to some, but he’s also warm, compassionate, and always so… open. Sure, he has his intense side, his possessive moments, but a liar? He’s never seemed anything but honest, at least with me. Or so I’d thought.

I glanced down at my wrist, the fresh marks from his tentacles still vivid. I had to play this off right, I was soaked, freezing, and shaken after encountering Tomioka, so it wouldn’t be hard to look convincing. I hurried back to camp.

“Tamayo! Yushiro!” I called out, rushing toward the fire where they were sleeping.

Yushiro grumbled, half-asleep, while Tamayo sat up slowly, rubbing her eyes. "What’s going on, Y/N?" she asked, her voice still groggy.

I knelt down in front of her, catching my breath, and held up my wrist. Tamayo’s eyes widened as she took in the marks, my drenched clothes, and my shivering frame. She reached for my hand, her smile growing with every detail.

Yushiro finally woke up, blinking in surprise as he noticed the marks on my wrist. Shock and disbelief crossed his face.

Tamayo quickly ushered me into the tent. “Come now, let’s get you warmed up and take a closer look at these!”

Inside, she helped me out of my soaked clothes and handed me a dry blanket. She lit a lantern, inspecting the marks on my wrist and leg while scribbling excitedly in her notebook.

“Did he speak to you? Why did he grab you? Was he angry?” she asked, her questions coming rapid-fire.

I explained that I’d gone for a walk because I couldn’t sleep and had wandered too close to the sea. “I think… he may have thought I was prey or something,” I added, as casually as I could manage.

Tamayo nodded, jotting down every word with satisfaction, pausing only for a few follow up questions. Seeing her so pleased was a relief. After all the times I’d come back empty handed, I’d finally managed to make her happy. That, at least, felt like a victory.

——————-

The hike back felt just as awful and exhausting as the one coming in. Our journey home took nearly as long as our initial trek, with the weight of the distance settling heavily on my shoulders. Tamayo was eager to return and report her findings, while I couldn’t shake the anticipation of finally seeing Kyojuro. I missed him, more than I cared to admit, but there were now new questions I needed answered.

When we finally reached the cabin, we were greeted by a few of the other hunters. I helped Tamayo and Yushiro unload, my mind already drifting to the promise I made to Kyojuro. Food offerings. I couldn’t come back empty handed. he’d make such a fuss if I did. And the last thing I needed was for him to get all upset and pouty.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, I finished helping and excused myself to the kitchen. I carefully prepared the offerings, making sure to include all his favorites. My heart raced a little as I arranged them, the thought of him looming over every movement.

Surely he would be pleased with these. I was gone what? Around a week two weeks total? That’s quite a while, but I got his permission, so he can’t be too angry with me.

As I slipped quietly back into the woods, I glanced down at my wrist. The marks from Tomioka's tentacles had faded, but they were still visible, a subtle reminder of what had passed. Of course, Kyojuro would notice them. He had a knack for being... dramatic when it came to anything remotely concerning me. I could trip and scrape my knee, and he’d insist on us cuddling for what felt like hours, as if that alone would make everything better.

Am I complaining? Maybe a little. But, deep down, I know I shouldn’t. After all, at least he wasn’t a heartless monster.

The forest path seemed to stretch on forever as I made my way back to the den. But the moment I stepped inside, the familiar clicking began. Slowly, Kyojuro emerged from the shadows, his crimson eyes glowing in the dark, a sharp, predatory smile spreading across his face. I set down the food I was holding, and smile at him happily.

"My little human, my mate! You’ve returned!" His voice rumbled with delight, and before I could react, his tail wrapped tightly around my waist, pulling me in close.

He sniffed eagerly, his nose brushing against my chest before he nuzzled into me, demanding affection. And, of course, I gave in, my fingers running through his fur as he purred loudly, tail tightening possessively around me.

"You smell like the ocean," he growled lowly, his voice thick with something primal. The intensity of his gaze never wavered as he held me in his embrace.

I could feel the warmth of his body radiating through the layers of my clothing, the undeniable presence of him filling the space around us. His scent, a mixture of fire and earth, was comforting in its own way, grounding me after the long journey. But the ocean, he couldn’t stand the trace of salt and waves that clung to me after my time with Giyu.

"You know," I murmured, my fingers still tracing the curve of his tail, "it’s not like I went swimming in the ocean. Just a little... coastal air."

His growl deepened, almost playful now, as if he didn’t quite believe me. "Coastal air, hm?" His eyes gleamed in the dim light, as though he could smell the exact essence of what had happened, and every part of him was keenly aware of it. His grip on me tightened, but not in anger, more like a quiet claim, a silent assertion that I was his, no matter where I’d been.

Kyojuro pulled back slightly, his gaze still locked on me as he gave a slow, exaggerated sniff of the air. “I can still smell him.” His voice was steady, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable.

I sighed inwardly, but I didn’t try to pull away. “Kyojuro... it’s not like that. Tomioka just—”

“Tomioka,” he interrupted, his voice turning sharper, though his hands were gentle as he cupped my face. “I see he hasn’t the common decency to not touch what not his.” His gaze shifts down to my wrist, though there was a flicker of possessiveness beneath the surface. “But you’re mine. Always.”

There it was again, that crazy intensity. That overwhelming, fierce loyalty that I both feared and craved. The way he could consume every thought, every moment, with just a glance. I tried to breathe past the lump in my throat, but the reality of his words settled over me, heavy and consuming.

“I’m yours,” I whispered, not even needing to say it to reassure him, but more to remind myself.

His sharp smile returned, his tail loosening its grip just enough to allow me to breathe fully again. “Good,” he purred, the possessiveness in his voice morphing into something deeper, more intimate. “Because I don’t share.”

Oh fuck…how did that sentence send shivers down my spine?

He leaned in, his face so close to mine, and I couldn’t help it, my hands slid over the fur on his shoulders, drawing him closer. His growl deepened as his tongue flicked over my bottom lip, his teeth grazing over the skin, sending sparks through me. And when he finally sealed our lips together, I melted into the kiss. It was fierce, possessive, overwhelming... all the things he was and more.

I had missed this, these moments of pure abandon. He knew exactly what to do to make me moan, what to make me lose myself in the moment. And by the time we broke apart, I was breathless and trembling, my core aching with need.

"Did you miss me?" he asked, the low echo in his voice was smooth and low, his tone already turning dark and filthy. "Is my mate craving something?" His voice rumbled through the air.

And fuck, I couldn't lie, i didn’t want to just give in so quickly, I wanted to pretend that I hadn't missed him this much, that I didn't want him. But I did, oh God how I did.

“Yes,” I admitted, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyojuro.”

He let out a low growl, a purr rumbling through his chest. “Good human,” he murmured against my neck now, his claws already moving to my pants. “You know how I feel about these obnoxious clothes you wear…. Take them off.” He didn’t wait for my answer, his mouth trailing down my neck, nipping and biting at my skin, making my heart beat fast.

"Take off your clothes now," he demanded again, his sharp claws pulled at my pants as I fumbled to untie them. "And let me see you." The command in his voice sent shivers down my body.

I did as he asked, shedding the rest of my clothes until I was completely naked in front of him. He stepped back and let out a sharp growl of approval before his clawed fingers ran up my thighs, my ass. And he finally wrapped his whole hand around my waist.

His touch burned over my skin, searing in its intensity. My breath caught as he firmly held me, pulling me closer until the heat of his cock pressed against me. The softness of his fur rubbed against me, making my skin tingle. I shivered in his arms, my pulse racing as his hands and tail explored my body. But he was too skilled, too attuned to my needs. It didn’t take long for me to find myself writhing in his grasp, aching for him.

"Please," I whispered. "Kyojuro, please—"

He stilled, and for a moment, I thought he’d just keep teasing me. Then he leaned in, nipping at my ear with a low growl.

“Look at that,” he breathed, his voice rough and thick with need. “My little human, desperate for my cock.” His tail wrapped around my thigh, lifting me up and positioning me just where he wanted. “Don’t worry, my mate, I’ll make it feel so good. I'll fill you with my seed until you're full of my scent. No more salt and ocean. Just me.” And with that, he thrust his thick cock into me roughly, making me cry out in surprise.

His girth stretched me so wide it hurt. He was merciless, holding me up and pounding me hard, my body struggling to accommodate him due to our time apart. My breasts bounced with each thrust, and the sound of my wetness echoed around the den, it was both humiliating and arousing.

"You’re so wet," he rumbled, his breath hot against my ear. "You love this, don’t you? My little human missed me." He nipped at my ear, his tongue running over the lobe. "Taking my cock. Being mine. You’ll never be full of any other’s scent. Not when you’re my mate.” His hands tightened, gripping me so hard, there would no doubt be bruises later.

He didn’t let me reply, his lips claiming mine as he fucked me. My mind blurred, my body consumed by the pleasure. He wasn’t gentle, not this time, and I loved him for it. He fucked me hard and rough, using my body for his pleasure. But he also knew every spot to hit, every spot that would send me over the edge.

“I wanted to be gentle with you,” he growled between thrusts. “But after not seeing you for so long, I just can’t hold back.”

The click of his voice vibrated against my skin.

And the orgasm, oh God, it built quick. There was no slowing it down, no stopping it, as it crested and crashed through me, leaving me screaming into the darkness. He didn’t stop fucking me though, not until I'd come multiple times on his cock.

Finally, when I couldn’t take it anymore and my body trembled from exhaustion, he pulled out. His tail released its hold on me, letting me slide down to my knees, where I fell onto the soft ground, my legs weak.

He stood over me, panting softly, his cock still hard. His eyes gleamed as they roved over my body before he leaned over me and gripped my hips, forcing me onto my fours.

“I know you are tired beautiful human… but I’m afraid I’m not satisfied.” His tail wrapped around my ankle and pulled my legs apart.

I could hear his low chuckle as I tried to catch my breath. “This hole has never been used before…” I felt his tongue lick up my ass. My eyes widen and my body shivered. No way… he was not about to— “It looks so good all pink and wet.” I moaned as he lapped at my rim. “You want me here?” he asked with a chuckle.

"Kyojuro," I gasped, my breath coming short. "No...please, you can’t."

His laughter only deepened, his large hands spreading my cheeks roughly apart. “It’s not for my own pleasure. My mate needs to be fully claimed by me. You smell like ocean, so it must be done,” he said as he pressed his tongue against my rim, teasing it in a way that made me cry out and writhe in his hold.

He kept up that torture for what felt like an age. Licking my ass, his tongue sliding through my cum as he used it to lubricate my rim, sliding it in and out slowly. I squirmed and whimpered, overwhelmed, and his low growls only grew more pleased.

Then, once my rim was nice and stretched out, he finally stood over me again, his cock hovering over my ass. He pushed the tip inside of me, and I cried out, my body trying to clench down.

"It’s okay, my mate," he murmured softly, his voice gentler now. “It’ll sting a bit at first but I’ll take care of you.” His hands stroked my back gently and he slowly pushed his cock deeper inside of me.

I clenched down, trying to stop the pain, but he kept pushing. He stretched my ass out wide with his thickness, filling me so completely I felt I might burst. My whimpers and cries filled the air as I struggled to bare the sensation, even as it was edged with pleasure.

But when he was finally seated fully in my ass, my body gave into the sensation and I moaned, my muscles relaxing.

He let out a deep growl and wrapped his tail around my body, pulling me back against him as he started to move. "This feels amazing," he rasped, he purred, clicking loudly in pleasure.

I felt full and tight, every thrust making me writhe and clench down on his cock, the pleasure mingling with the pain in a way that was maddening. But I didn’t have the ability to think, not while his tail wrapped around my body, holding me in place as he fucked my ass.

He began to move faster, my moans and his growls echoing through the den now. His tail tightened around my waist and his teeth sunk into my neck. I felt him grow thicker inside of me and then I felt him fill my ass with his seed.

"Fuck! It’s so warm and wet..." he growled, his moans growing more desperate as he kept emptying his cum inside of me. The sound of it dripping out of my ass filled the den. I felt his knot expand keeping what could be contained inside of me. I tried to clench down but he held my body still as he continued to come. I moaned and wiggled in his grasp.

"You’re mine," he growled deeply. "I can’t share you with anyone."

And with that, he held me there, his cock still buried deep in my ass, until his knot finally released and he collapsed next to me on the ground. I was exhausted from his fucking, and my body ached in the most delicious way.

He pulled out of my ass, making me gasp as his cum only spilled out of me more. He wrapped me in his tail and nuzzled his face in my neck.

"Sleep little human," he growled softly. "I’ll take good care of you, always."

I felt him pick me up, carrying me to our nest. He laid me down and wrapped around me, holding me securely. This was the warmth I had missed. Despite my body being so sore and exhausted, I was completely blissed out.

I fell into a deep sleep knowing I was safe, knowing I was loved, and knowing he’d always protect me. And the ocean would no longer be a problem. Not after Kyojuro had me all to himself. I smiled, snuggling in his arms.

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When I finally awoke, it was to him licking my neck. "Good morning, my little human," he purred. His claws slid through my hair.

I rub my eyes opening them slightly to adjust to the light. The sun had risen, and its warmth filtered through the trees.

"Did you sleep well?" he asked, his voice a soft rumble.

"Yeah," I answered, still groggy. "How long have you been awake?"

"A while," he chuckled. "I wanted to make sure you got enough rest." I sighed, feeling relaxed and content. But as I shifted, a dull ache throbbed through me.

"Your body will be sore for a few days," he said, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "You took me so well. It makes me proud to have such a good mate."

"Thanks," I mumbled. "I guess."

"Are you hungry?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, a little," I said, stretching.

Kyojuro’s eyes gleamed, his tail curling around my leg possessively as he shifted to sit up, still keeping me close. “Good. I’ll catch us something fresh,” he said, the hint of a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “But don’t you move a muscle. Rest those sore limbs. I’ll be back in no time.”

I watched him rise, his form lit by the morning sun as he stretched, flexing his muscles with a lazy confidence. “What about the offerings I made you, we could just eat those.” I suggest.

He chuckled lowly and shook his head. “As much as I love you my mate. You made those offerings for me. And if there’s one thing I won’t share with you… it’s the gifts you bring me.” He smiled playfully his tail wagging almost like a dog.

He gave me one last intense look, as if memorizing every detail before he turned, disappearing into the woods.

Left alone, I sank back into our nest, feeling the lingering warmth he’d left behind. My body was sore, as he’d warned, but there was something comforting about the ache, a reminder of just how much we’d missed each other. The birds were chirping, and a soft breeze drifted through the trees, rustling the leaves. I closed my eyes, letting myself be lulled by the forest’s quiet rhythm, still wrapped in the warmth of last night’s memory.

Before long, the sound of Kyojuro’s footsteps drew closer. I opened my eyes as he emerged from the shadows, carrying fresh game in one hand, his eyes bright and eager. He set it down, then moved over to sit beside me again, his tail flicking with satisfaction. “Told you I’d be quick,” he said, as he leaned in to brush a stray strand of hair from my face.

“Impressive,” I murmured, smiling up at him.

He tilted his head, amber eyes softening as he took me in. “Impressive is having you back in my arms,” he murmured, voice lowering. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you here.”

The intensity in his gaze sent a familiar flutter through me, that possessive spark still so alive and undeniable. And as I reached out to touch his hand, I knew the same warmth would pull me back, over and over again.

Kyojuro held both my hands in one of his as if they were the most fragile things ever, a completely contrast to the night before. He raised my hands to his face nuzzling against him, brushing a warm kiss across my knuckles. “I want you to feel safe, always,” he murmured, the conviction in his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I squeezed his hand, taking in the steady heat of him, grounding me in the moment. “With you, I do,” I whispered. “It’s like… nothing could ever hurt me here.”

He smiled, a hint of pride flickering in his eyes. “That’s how it should be.” Then, with a playful tilt of his head, he added, “But I might need to remind you every now and then, just to be sure.”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “Always so protective.”

“Of course,” he replied, a low rumble in his chest. “I’d fight the every monster in the world if they tried to take you from me.” He leaned in closer, his gaze unyielding. “You’re mine.”

The intensity in his voice stirred something deep inside me, a thrill mixed with reassurance. “And you’re mine,” I replied, reaching up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the strength in his muscles as he leaned into my touch. “No one else, nothing else matters.”

His eyes softened, the fire in them shifting to something warm and tender. “Good,” he whispered, then bent down to press a lingering kiss against my forehead. “Now,” he said, his voice lighter, “how about some food? You’ll need your strength if we’re going to spend the day together.”

“Sounds perfect,” I replied, feeling a renewed warmth spreading through me.

I prepared the food over a small fire with practiced ease, never straying too far, as if I couldn’t bear to be away. And as we shared the meal, surrounded by the gentle sounds of the forest, I felt something settle within me—a deep, unshakeable peace, knowing I was exactly where I was meant to be.

The first few days back at Kyojuro’s den going back and forth like I usually did. The days were a whirlwind of passion and comfort. We spent hours exploring each other’s bodies, the weeks of separation making every touch feel new and electric. His fur was just as soft as I remembered, his eyes just as intense. And the way he’d hold me at night, his tail coiled around me, made me feel like I was home.

I knew I had to talk to him about Tomioka. I wanted to know the history between them. Tomioka said kyojuro had enemies, that he was a liar. And that part genuinely unsettled me. No matter how hard I tried to push it down.

The thought gnawed at me, even in moments of warmth and ease, like a shadow lurking just beyond the firelight. I had questions, and I needed answers.

One evening, as we lay entwined in our nest, his breathing slow and steady beside me, I finally gathered the courage. I shifted slightly, just enough for him to sense I was awake. He glanced down, eyes gleaming with that familiar, protective warmth, his arms wrapping tighter around me.

“Kyojuro,” I began, voice barely above a whisper. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” he murmured, his expression softening. “Anything, my mate.”

I hesitated, searching his gaze, feeling the weight of the words I was about to say. “When I was with Tomioka… he mentioned things. He spoke of enemies you might have. That there were… conflicts, even lies.” My voice faltered as his eyes grew darker, the warmth in them receding.

He held my gaze for a long, tense moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he sighed, a sound filled with something I couldn’t quite name, was it regret? Resignation? “Giyu…” He spoke his name like a wound he was trying to close. “He’s not wrong, not entirely. There are… old tensions among us, unspoken alliances and rivalries. The Hashira, we each walk our own path. Sometimes, those paths cross in ways that are less than ideal.”

I felt a chill, like a draft sneaking into the den. “And what about the lies?” I asked, unable to mask the tremor in my voice.

He closed his eyes briefly, his clawed thumb brushing my cheek in slow, soothing strokes. “There are things I’ve kept from you, yes, but not out of deception. I wanted you to feel safe here with me, untouched by the struggles I face.”

“But I need to know, Kyojuro,” I pressed, the urgency rising in my voice. “If there are things out there that could put us in danger, if there are people who’d come after you, don’t I deserve to know?”

A spark of pain flickered in his eyes, and he nodded, a reluctant acceptance settling over him. “Yes. You deserve to know everything.” He paused, his voice taking on a new gravity. “There are other Hashira who don’t agree with my… my methods, or the way I’ve have chosen to live my life. They see it as a corrupt, and wrong. Giyu is cautious, wary. He wanted to warn you, perhaps hoping you’d run away.”

The words struck me harder than I’d expected, and I found myself reaching for his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I’m not running away. No matter what.”

He smiled, the slightest edge of vulnerability showing in his fierce gaze. “I know you wouldn’t.” His clawed fingers traced my palm, lingering there, as if trying to reassure himself of my presence. “But if Giyu or anyone else threatens what we have… I won’t hesitate to protect you. Even if it means facing my past and the ones I once called allies.”

We fell silent, the weight of his confession settling between us, mingling with the night air. It was a silence heavy with truth, with the understanding that we were bound by forces beyond ourselves.

As he pulled me close, nuzzling against the top of my head, I felt the strength of his vow in every touch, every breath. And while uncertainty lingered, so too did an unbreakable trust, a quiet promise that, no matter the challenges, we would face them together.

The night deepened, a stillness settling over us that carried both comfort and an edge of unease. Kyojuro’s warmth enveloped me, his breath steady against my skin, and for a while, we lay in silence, just listening to each other’s heartbeats. I wanted to let go of my worries, to lose myself in the safety of his embrace, but Tomioka’s words still echoed in my mind, a reminder that nothing was as simple as I’d once thought.

As if sensing my thoughts, Kyojuro tightened his hold, his hand holding my back. “There’s more to it than even Giyu understands,” he murmured, breaking the silence. “I’ve had to make choices that others wouldn’t, things the other Hashira see as betrayals.”

“Betrayals?” I whispered, unsure if I wanted to know more, yet unable to stop myself from asking.

He nodded, a somber look in his eyes. “Not everyone agrees with the way I protect or take what’s mine. To them, I’m reckless. They don’t understand… that love isn’t a weakness. That it gives me strength.” His eyes softened, that fierce possessiveness tempered by a tenderness that left me breathless. “And that strength is why I’ll always protect you, even if it costs me.”

I reached up, my hand finding his cheek, and he leaned into my touch, his eyes slipping closed. “I don’t want you to give up everything just for me,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion. “I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

“You’re here,” he replied, his voice a low rumble, the barest hint of a smile curving his lips. “That’s all I need.”

For a moment, it felt like nothing else mattered, that the forest around us, the Hashira, the threats they posed, all of it faded in the face of what we shared. But even as I held him close, I knew there were things left unsaid, truths lurking beneath the surface.

We spent the next few days in a fragile peace, an unspoken understanding passing between us. Kyojuro was attentive, almost more than usual, as if determined to make up for the tension between us. He brought me fresh food every morning, wrapped me in his warmth each night, and filled the hours between with quiet affection. His hands were always on me, grounding, reassuring, and in those moments, I almost forgot the dark clouds that loomed over us.

But the shadow of Tomioka’s warning still hung in the background, a persistent reminder that there were others out there who didn’t share Kyojuro’s loyalty. And one evening, as I watched him prowl the edge of the den, his gaze sharp and alert, I felt a pang of worry I couldn’t ignore.

“Kyojuro,” I called softly, breaking him from his vigil. He looked over, his eyes immediately softening as they met mine.

“Yes, my mate?” he asked, crossing the distance to sit beside me. His tail curled around me instinctively, pulling me close.

“Do you think… they’ll ever try to hurt us?” I asked, forcing the words out even though my heart clenched at the thought.

His jaw tightened, a shadow flickering across his expression. “I’d be lying if I said some of them wouldn’t try,” he admitted. “But they’d be fools to underestimate what I’d do to keep you safe.” His voice was low, deadly, a reminder of the strength that lay just beneath his warmth.

I nodded, finding comfort in his resolve, but a small part of me couldn’t shake the fear. “And if they come… will you tell me?” I asked, my gaze steady, my voice as firm as I could make it.

He hesitated, his fingers brushing over mine. “I’ll never leave you in the dark again,” he promised, his eyes searching mine with a sincerity that took my breath away. “We’ll face whatever comes together.”

As he pulled me into his arms, his words settled over me like a shield, a reminder that, no matter the dangers, we had each other. And though uncertainty lingered, for the first time, I felt a quiet sense of resolve, a strength that mirrored his, a fierce determination to stand by his side, no matter what.

In that moment, I knew that whatever lay ahead, I was ready.

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A/N: I want to say thank you everyone for being so patient with me for this chapter. I haven’t been able to go through all of my in box but the messages and DMs have been nothing but supportive. I’ve never been so grateful to be apart of such a kind and loving community, thank you all so much. Unfortunately life happens and it’s hard to bounce back and continue projects like these but it helps when everyone is so kind.

I also I want to make it clear this blog is a safe space and no hate or cruelty is tolerated, I love all of you. Stay safe and know you are loved and supported🫶🏻

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Tags: @im-0-addicted-0-to-0tea @emmenic726 @fandomenbylover @staygoldsquatchling02 @nicora04

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ennaih · 1 year ago

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Every Film I Watch In 2023:

210. The Stalls Of Barchester (1971)

#the stalls of barchester #the stalls of barchester (1971)#2023filmgifs #my gifs #best Lawrence Gordon Clark adaptation of an MR James story yet #it was so spooky and so delicious #i loved every bit of it #and then shrieked at the end #cos i totally did NOT realise that was ROBERT HARDY #until the credits ran and i was like WHAT #well i've never seen him this young i think #i even had a weird twinge of familiarity at some point #but didn't connect at all #he was so good #and darling Clive Swift #i'm so glad he's in these #he's so perfect for the antiquarian role #i like to think dear ole Monty would approve of him

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gingermintpepper · 4 months ago

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Obsessed with the way Evadne's relationship with Apollo is described. Obsessed with the way Apollo was especially gentle with her because she was sheltered, hidden away and hadn't had any sort of experience with love prior to Apollo (and due to it being described as her 'first learning Aphrodite's joy' through Apollo', it was probably her first time even being attracted to someone). Obsessed with the way when she runs away, she stops in a violet patch to give birth. Y'know, violets, very famously the flower so strongly associated with Aphrodite that they were used in love potions? Those violets. Obsessed with the way that when Apollo realised his lover was going to have to deliver their child alone, he sent BOTH the goddess of childbirth and ALL THREE OF THE FATES to help and support her. Obsessed with the way that Apollo sends snakes to feed his baby honey straight from their fangs because Evadne abandons their son out of straight primal fear when her stepfather finds her and how the description of that honey is 'sweet venom' [ἰός] of the bees and is DEFINITELY a poetic pair/pun with [ἴον] aka violets and that every single thing about this relationship, conception and birth is a complete and utter fairytale down to Evadne's insanely overprotective stepfather having an immediate change of heart when he learned Evadne's child was an actual, legitimate Son of Apollo and the babe, after being cared for by his dad's honey-fanged snake buddies, was found perfectly healthy five days later swaddled in a blanket of violets (y'know the flowers so strongly associated with Aphrodite that they were used for lo-) and they called him Iamus aka Boy of the Violets which is AAAAAARRRR I AM GNAWING AT MY ENCLOSURE

Iamus was made of love. Everything about him was surrounded by deep and profound love and like, let's not even talk about his whole Thing of when he came of age and was like "I need to find out what my purpose is" and he literally had a Disney Protagonist moment where he ran out into the wilds and was like "Father!! Grandfather!! Tell me what I'm supposed to doooo!!" and then APOLLO FUCKING ANSWERED AND LED HIM TO ONE HIS TEMPLES ENTIRELY BY TALKING WITH IAMUS AND LETTING HIM FOLLOW HIS VOICE FOR THE WHOLE JOURNEY LIKE -

What do y'all know about the kind of SSS tier romantic escapades Apollo had fr?

#ginger rambles #NO BECAUSE WHAT DO Y'ALL KNOW ABOUT APOLLO AND EVADNE FR #They're a MAD underrated couple and their story is what everyone wishes Hades/Persephone was #Evadne actually WAS sheltered and overprotected because she was a daughter of Poseidon explicitly given to Aepytus to watch over #And Aepytus to his credit wasn't actually a bad man or anything he just took his job very very seriously #Super pious guy - even though he was positively incandescent when he found out Evadne was pregnant he didn't hit her or anything #He just was like “Get me my HORSE I am going to consult the GODS about my DAUGHTER'S HARLOTRY”#Evadne was fucking terrified of him though she hid that pregnancy like her life depended on it #And the minute she heard horse hooves even though she had just finished giving birth she dropped Iamus like he was molten and fucking ran #I could only imagine Aepytus having set up a baby shower or something cause he was overjoyed by the oracle and Evadne gets home thinking #she's going to get Dungeon'd only for Aepytus to hug her and be like “You should've told me you were seeing Apollo sob emoji sob emoji”#God I'm sure Evadne had a bunch of trauma to work through with her stepfather changing his whole entire attitude on a complete #Apollo doesn't directly interfere with their lives after Iamus is born up until Iamus comes looking for him but he was definitely keeping #a very close eye on them all through their lives #Ugh I'm sick I'm so sick in the head thinking about them #apollo #evadne #iamus #greek mythology #ginger chats about greek myths

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coolauntlilith · 1 year ago

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ATFC s1e8 Jerry has me fucking sick to my stomach about Simon's, "Wha- No, no! Why would I??"

I kinda am wondering if his lack of reaching Chaos Betty is maybe bc she now doesn't want him to reach her. If she's still kinda Betty, anyway.

Edit: I just finished my second rewatch and I do wonder where Golbetty is portalling him. 👀

#i mean. if i became half chaos deity & i could see the beginning & end of all & then realized the love of my life never really saw me......#i might block and fuck up his attempts to reach me too #did he ever give a damn about her career?? like in their 'normal' human lives??#she became useful for his work. would they have even bonded over her work??? did they at all in the original AT? bc i dont think so. :(#also he tried to not listen to her until she just said her thoughts on the vase or ran over the snake rocks. like she wasn't potentially #intelligent to him until she proved she was actually intelligent to him. like he just assumed he new better until she just did what she had #to do to prove herself. it was actually annoying to me the whole time. :(#i was glad that he wanted her to take credit for the expedition with him... but he also didnt fight for her there???#im kinda mad at Betty at that moment too. Betty. darling. you did work too lol #ugh. i hate that Simon is just “why would i go with her??” simon is a dumbass. hes all girldad but im wondering if he was a onesided bf :(#adventure time: fionna & cake #adventure time: fionna and cake #atfc #atfc s1e8 #simon petrikov #betty grof #chaos betty #golbetty #aunt posting

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arolesbianism · 8 months ago

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Why must I only be capable of coming up with cool art ideas long past midnight

#rat rambles #Ive been thinking abt hypothetical olivia jackie very very loose roleswap au and its just more doomed toxic yuri #itd just be jackie rapidly spiraling and doing stupid shit behind olivias backas olivia becomes more and more emotionally distant #jackie has this fun habit called self sabotaging in such a way that savotages everyone around her as well but way worse #and olivia has this fun habit called not noticing growing jackie problems until its too late #so all in all we get a less terrible gravitas (key word less Im not going to give olivia That much credit) and a far more unstable jackie #and that's saying a lot lol #jackie on her way to become the worlds worst lebian incel unethical scientiwait no thats already canon jackie post cancelled #you see this is why canon jackie is doomed to be worse than any bullshit I could pull off in a swap au because canon jackie has power #but it still is interesting thinking abt how gravitas would differ if primarily ran by olivia instead of jackie #mainly the big thing is that I dont think olivia would do a great job at noticing any decline in employee health being more distant from it #not deliberately so like jackie like olivia would still Try to build a good work environment I just dont know if shed do that good a job #I also feel like shed be equally hard to talk down from a potentially problematic project as jackie if she believed in it enough #olivia is proud of the work that she does and while she has better morals than jackie they still arent exactly ironclad #she and jackie both being self righteous is smth they have in common it just happens that olivia is usually in the right #but that's with the two of them theres plenty of other situations where olivia could easily be on the other end of the argument #which is why director olivia facinates me as a concept because it begs the question of how well could she manage to maintain her morals #she obviously Wants to maintain good morals but when in a position of power where her word always goes through would that falter at all?#maybe without even realizing its happening #youve made hard decisions before. what makes this different from the rest? maybe at some point it wont even feel difficult anymore #and maybe this in turn makes it harder for her to see the blood jackie tries to hide #because if she let herself notice that itd be impossible to ignore the blood on her own hands #meanwhile jackie is just being like maybe shell text me back if I keep breaking her trust itll work this time trust me #and then she proceeds to explode her brain or smth and gets printing podded and explodes again because shes somehow manage it #I just would want all three aus to be olivia having serious identity crisies while jackie reenacts ashfur amvs in the background

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smutstationchoochoo · 1 year ago

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Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room.

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?” His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment. It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up. Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

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starkeyisthelastname · 3 months ago

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like i said husband dilf!rafe spoils his kids 🤭😅

It was the sound of footsteps prancing in the living room, when your 15 year old daughter came plopping herself on the couch. The big eyes and pout on her lips already telling you both that she wanted something. Rafe titled his head back to meet her, taking a long breath. “What is it princess?” He asked, already knowing his daughter’s I want something face.

“Can I have your credit card information, daddy?” She asked, batting her lashes as she had always been a daddy’s girl and he knew he couldn’t say no to his little girl. Even if she could be a brat sometimes. Rafe let out an exasperated sigh and motioned for her to hand her the phone. The one rule he had for both of his kids was that he had to see what they were purchasing and he was the one who put his card info in.

Taking the glittery phone in hand, his blue eyes ran over the screen to see the extensive online shopping cart filled with items from Sephora. He let out a scoff, reading the total. “You need $400.00 dollars worth of makeup for what?” He asked, looking back up at her. Yeah.. she definitely got your beauty habits that were gonna cause him to go broke.

“It’s not just makeup dad. There’s skin care stuff and I ran out of my favorite perfume and I need a new one.” She said, trying to reason with him. She watched as he rolled his eyes, nodding his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Go get my wallet off the counter.” He said, clicking the checkout button before she added anymore stuff.

The teen happily jumped from her space and into the kitchen where she grabbed the leather wallet Rafe was referring to. Handing it to him, he adjusted his hold onto you and pulled out one of his cards to type the numbers of the black amex onto the phone screen. “There. Now go upstairs and get ready for bed. You got school tomorrow.” He said firmly, already watching the smile spread on her face he handed her back the phone. Hopping up, she came over and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thanks dad! You’re the best! I love you both!” She said, running back towards her room.

“I spoil her way too damn much.” He mumbled, before focusing his attention back on you. “And don’t even get me started on you.” His tone raspy as he reached back underneath the blanket to squeeze your thigh. You hummed, trailing your hand up his t-shirt and ran your expensive manicure across his toned stomach.

“What about me?” You asked, tone playful as you ran your hand further down until it hit the waistband of his sweatpants. You watched as he sucked in a breath, blue eyes staring at you with a look you knew very well. “That you’re fuckin’ spoiled too..” He said, his voice a littler lower as your hand slipped in the boxers he was wearing.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dilf!rafe #husband!rafe #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks rafe #rafe outer banks #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey smut #obx #obx smut #outer banks

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starkwlkr · 3 months ago

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Can I request some hung with old man Logan? Something domestic or soemthing like reader baking for him. I love reading fics of Logan and reader being an old married couple

just the two of us | old man logan

an: anon ily for this request old man Logan needs more love <3 credit to pinterest for the gif btw this doesn’t follow the logan storyline so i added laura hope that’s ok!! sorry if there’s an spelling mistakes!

reader and logan live in a nice little cozy home because i said so 😍

“Taste.” You held the wooden spoon up to your husband’s mouth. Logan sighed, he knew you weren’t going to let him walk away without tasting the brownie batter so he licked the spoon.

For a while you had been craving brownies. While Logan was out working, you and Laura drove to the city to pick up the ingredients to make brownies. It was a fun small girls trip until it was time to come back home. Laura had helped you mix everything together until she got tired, she then decided to go up to her room to watch cartoons. You continued working on the brownies by yourself, that’s when Logan had arrived from work and now here you were giving him a taste test.

“So?” You waited for an answer.

“Bub, you are the best baker in this whole town, city, state, planet.” Logan was going to dip his finger in the batter until you slapped it away.

“No! You’re going to wait like the rest of us, but I did tell Laura she could have the first brownie so just wait.” You told him.

Logan groaned and walked to the kitchen sink and washed his hands. “How was your day?”

Logan always asked about you day. It didn’t matter if you stayed home and read a book or did some gardening, he wanted to know.

“Good. Laura and I read a new book, we went to buy ingredients to make brownies and now my old man is home so I’d say it’s been a pretty good day.” You started to pour the brownie batter into a pan.

He didn’t mind you calling him old man, in fact, he loved it. Yeah, he wasn’t as young as he used to be, but you still loved him. You did admit to him many times that the grey hair was a turn on for you, which made him laugh.

Before you could react, Logan quickly dipped his finger in the batter and licked it clean.

“James! Don’t you dare do it again!” You scolded him. “These are for Laura too.”

“Come on, Laura’s not going to know that I ate some batter,” Logan leaned on the counter next to you. “I’ve been thinking. .”

“Oh no, that’s concerning.” You teased, finishing up with the brownies and putting them in the oven. You turned to face him then wrap your arms around him, bring him closer to you.

Logan chuckled at your response. “I’ve been thinking about taking you and Laura to some place nice. We can do that family shit you always talk about.”

You laugh at his choice of words. “Family shit, yeah that’s what I said.”

“Tomorrow then, I’ll drive us to the nicest place you’ve ever seen, get some ice cream, watch a movie, whatever you want.” Logan leaned in closer, you doing the same.

Before your lips could touch, Laura interrupted you asking about the brownies.

“Not yet, my love, I just put them in. I’ll call you when they’re done,” You pulled away making Logan groan. Laura nodded then ran up to her room. You noticed the frown on his face so you quickly gave him his after work kiss. “Don’t be so sad, old man, the neighbor’s kid wants to have a sleepover with Laura this weekend so it’ll just be the two of us.” Logan definitely liked the sound of that.

Half an hour later, the brownies were ready. Laura took several with her to her room while you and Logan took a plate outside to the patio where your porch swing was. It was a beautiful evening, it wasn’t too hot or too cold, and now you were ending the night beside your husband eating some homemade brownies.

“I think Laura is going to ask you for a dog.” You mention, scooting closer to Logan and laying your head on his chest. You held a brownie up to him so he could take a bite.

“No, we are not getting a dog.” He said.

“It would be nice, you know . . .” You bit the brownie after Logan.

“Is this why you made brownies? You want me to get you and Laura a dog?” He looked down at you.

“No, but can you?”

He sighed defeatedly. “I’ll think about it.”

#marvel fluff #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #wolverine fluff #wolverine x reader #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett x reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett #wolverine fanfiction

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marvelstan0905 · 5 months ago

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"Good luck Charm"

Kenji Sato X S/O!Fem!READER [Smut Scenario]

TW :blowjobs/almost being caught/public setting/mixed POV/idk what else/petnames

-Hi guys. My requests will be open starting 26 June at 5PM [MT ] up until 28th June 1PM [MT]. I'm putting these dates because I don't want to get overwhelmed and end up burned out! Also, May you guys help me out with differentiating between scenarios/headcannons/imagines/oneshots/etc. Thank you so much for the love and support.❤

Gif credit @soranatus

Kenji needed a little incentive, a little energy boost in order to get his head in the game. He was frustrated with the way games had been going so far. What's better way to relieve his stress and frustration than with his girl's help.

Here the two of you were in the locker room, the two of you were alone and your boyfriend was leaning against the door, his pants undone and his hair disheveled. There you were ,on your knees and his cock in your mouth.

"There we go, you're so pretty on your knees for me, princess" Kenji groaned as his hands tossed through your hair. He stared down at you with hazy, half lidded eyes which were beyond dilated. His hips bucked up into your mouth causing you to whimper slightly. "Shh b-babygirl. You don't want us to be caught ,hmm?"

I nodded and took him deeper into my mouth. With a deep breath I relaxed my gag reflex in order to take him down my throat. A guttural groan and small whimper fell from Kenji's lips.

"T-Thats it my love. You're taking it so well" Kenji breathed heavily as his head fell back against the door and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. I bobbed my head and hallowed my cheeks, hoping to get him there quicker. I glanced at the clock on the wall, noticing we had about 5 minutes before my boyfriend needed to go. I sucked on his cock a lot harder and with more fervor. My tongue ran against the veins on his beautiful cock. My boyfriend almost jolted from the added pressure. "F-Fuxk..I'm so close."

We froze when we heard a knock at the door. "Hey Sato! We're about to go on! Are you almost done changing?" One of Kenji's teammates shouted from outside the door. I didn't stop and kept going. Kenji's breath hitched and he cleared his throat.

"Y-Yeah...be out there soon!" Kenji called out sounding like he just ran a marathon. I hummed holding in my giggles. My boyfriend cursed from the vibrations.

"Okay? Well be quick! We're almost starting!" The player called out. Kenji sighed and grabbed a hold of the back of my head before thrusting into my mouth.

"I'm s-sorry baby, but I need to be quick but I a-also need my little goodluck charm" Kenji panted. I felt his cock throb into my mouth and in the knick of time, he came. His cock was deep into my throat as I swallowed all of his release. Kenji groaned, his face twisted with beautiful pleasure as his hips rut into my mouth. Calming down from his high, He panted."T-Thank you, sweetcheeks"

He breathed a sigh of relief and satisfaction. Kenji gently pulled his soft cock out of my mouth and kissed my head. "Open for me" My boyfriend ordered and I opened my mouth. He smirked in satisfaction, happy that I swallowed all of it.

"What a good girl. Thank you, my love." Kenji smiled and gently tucked himself back into his pants. I stood up and made sure he looking fine.

"Go get em, honey! You can do it!" You encouraged him enthusiastically whiles gently pecking his lips. Kenji chuckled and kissed me once more. I was still a little breathless from our little activity.

"With that kinda of encouragement, I'm scoring home runs left and right" Kenji smirked and gave you a teasing wink. With a playful eye roll and a slight flush on your cheeks, you ushered him out the door.

"Get out of here" I giggled. Kenji laughed and kissed my cheek.

"I'm going. I'm going." Kenji spoke playfully raising his hands in surrender. He jogged off and I was confused when he jogged back to give me another kiss on the lips "I love you"

Kenji pulled away with an affectionate smile and jogged to the stadium with a pep in his step. I chuckled. "I love you too"

"Hey! What are you doing in here!?"

Uh oh

#ken sato #kenji sato #kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #ultraman 2024 #emi ultraman #ultraman rising #ultraman #kenji sato masterlist #ultraman masterlist #kenji sato headcannons #kenji sato smut #Spotify

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erwinsvow · 6 months ago

Note

random but i can see rafe giving shy!reader like a large amount of “pocket money” and she’ll always wait until she’s fully broke and runs out (if she doesn’t have a job), she’d be so nervous to ask him for more.

at first you're so shy around rafe you can't even find it in you to question what the money is for—you just assume it's some sort of test. you keep the cash in your pretty pink wallet until it's so full it won't fit in your purse.

rafe has no reason to be giving you money—you've got your own, your parents', that is. and suddenly you start to question everything, start overthinking like normal. does rafe think you're reliant on him for money? if so, is he mad at you because of it?

one day when he comes over to your place for once, claiming he wanted to get away from his noisy house to the serenity and peace of your bedroom, you dig out the wallet from under your bed and drop it next to him. he's laying on the mattress, sprawled out playing chess with a robot. the wallet lands with a thud.

like always, you let him speak first.

"what the hell's this?" he asks, lifting the thoroughly packed leather.

"i'm giving it back," you state, trying to remain a little firm. it's so hard around him though.

"jesus, kid," he comments, flicking through the cash. "did y'spend any of it? huh?"

"n-no," you stammer, suddenly nervous. "i kept it safe for you, like you wanted." you look at him with big, confused eyes and he looks back at you in disbelief.

"s'not for that, baby. it's for spending. for nice things, y'know, all the crap you like."

"crap?" you question back.

"stuff. books and records and ice cream when m'not around. y'know, pocket money."

"but i already have that," you reply. "did you think i didn't? did i ask for it?" suddenly confused, you wonder how you gave rafe this implication. "sorry, rafe."

"why are you apologizin'?" you perch yourself next to him.

"i guess because i didn't spend it.."

"well, stop. just use it for somethin' nice. for yourself, not me." he clarifies because he knows you—knows you'll go find him a new polo or golf glove if he didn't tell you otherwise.

and the way he says it—you comply, pressing a kiss to his cheek, mind floating to all the ways you could use it—a new beach read, a new bikini for boat days, ice cream nights with wheezie and a big tip for the nice girls who worked at the parlor.

you were used to spending your dad's money, now you were spending daddy's money. it wasn't that big of a change after all.

and it's really not.. until you run out.

you never had to ask your parents twice for anything, but rafe gives you cash and you don't question why, but now that you're used to getting things from rafe's money, you don't want to revert back. in all honestly, it felt nice when someone asked you where you got something from and you could tell them your favorite words.

"my boyfriend got it for me!"

credit cards are unlimited, but cash runs out. and asking rafe for more seems like the absolute worst thing in the world, especially when you were so hesitant to even start using it.

approaching the door to rafe's bedroom, you pace infront of it for a moment, thinking of the right words to say. ward walks by and smiles at you, though he's confused at what you're doing. panicked, you run in, standing in front of your boyfriend while he's looking at something on his desk. rafe glances up when you walk in.

"hey, kid."

"hi." it even comes out nervous. rafe shuts his laptop at the sound of your voice.

"what is it?" he asks, and you blink back in response.

"what's.. what?"

"y'think i can't tell when you're off? c'mon, start talkin'." you give in immediately.

"well... it's just, um, this cash. your cash. i ran out. and, um, this book i wanted releases out tomorrow. and i told wheezie i'd take her to the movies because that book we both like is a movie now, and it comes out this weekend, and y'know she's a child so-"

"yeah. m'aware."

"sorry," you reply, feeling your cheeks heat up. "sorry." he gets up from the desk, and you wonder if you really messed up by demanding so much.

"what'd i tell ya? stop apologizin'." when he gets close, rafe does what he always does, lifting your chin up so you're looking at him, his fingers resting on your jaw. "what'd you think? i'm gonna say no to you?"

"maybe. i'm being kinda greedy."

"nah, kid. be as greedy as you want." when you smile, he laughs at you, at how nervous you still get, how worried you are that you're doing something wrong. "besides, i got some ideas on how y'can make it up to me."

sounds like a win-win for you.

#this was so fucking cutie pie #i love them #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #shy reader

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 11 months ago

Text

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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