the first time round i didn't pay much attention to him

Klance - Shopping in Space and Gift Giving

So, this is a headcanon that I got reaaaally carried away with. Big thanks to @treasuredbuns for giving me the prompt and bearing through the ridiculous number of messages the headcanon came in!

Since I’m only my laptop, and this is a VERY long headcanon, I will put it below the ‘keep reading’ to save you from having to scroll forever if Klance and ridiculous amounts of fluff is not your thing.

Prompt: Voltron team goes shopping for new clothes at the space mall

Apologies for any mistakes, and feel free to give prompts!

Keep reading

annabethcaser  asked:

things you didn't say at all: percabeth

things you didn’t say at all

.13 years old

Without a word, they fell into position; back to back, stepping in perfect time, weapons raised. Percy didn’t need to tell Annabeth when to move - he could feel it in the tension of her muscles, hear it in the weight of her steps, sense it beyond any rationale. They made their first strikes at the same time, and rather quickly the monsters who’d surprised them in a corner of Grand Central were gone, nothing but dust sweeping across the floor.

Annabeth sheathed her dagger and grinned at him. “Reflexes have gotten a bit slower, Seaweed Brain.”

“Oh, like you can talk, Owl… Head…,” he replied, trying to think of a witty nickname in retort and failing.

She laughed, probably at the way his eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration as much as at the crappy nickname. “Don’t ever call me that again.”

Before he could reply, she turned to lead the way out of the station. Percy collapsed Riptide and followed her at a run, too proud to call out for her to wait up.

.15 years old

Annabeth was sitting across the campfire, at the back of a huddle of Athena campers. Percy had a direct view of her above the flames, and he was too busy staring at her to pay any attention to what Travis was saying. He could hear the other boy talking beside him, saying something about a new prank he had planned to try and ‘lighten things up’ - but Percy’s entire consciousness had narrowed to the curve of Annabeth’s shoulders, the downturn of the corners of her lips, the way the edge of her ponytail fell forward over her collar. She looked so sad.

They hadn’t spoken in three days.

Sometimes Percy wondered if the kiss she’d given him in that volcano had been a dream.

“Dude.” Travis punched Percy’s shoulder, snapping him abruptly back to attention. “Are you even listening?”

“Yeah,” Percy said, flinching slightly when the word came out in a snap. He rubbed his arm absentmindedly and sighed. “Sorry, no. I’m a little… out of it.”

Travis looked confused, until he glanced across and saw Annabeth. His eyes widened with realisation. “Ooh. Yeah, man, that’s not good.”

“What’s not good?” Panic twisted Percy’s stomach and made his voice rise in pitch. If the other campers were talking about his fight with Annabeth, it might be worse than he thought. “What is it?”

Travis leant back and held his hands up, palms out. “Nope, I’m not getting involved.”

Percy narrowed his eyes at him. “What’s Katie told you?”

“Look, just…” Travis gulped. He visibly debated with himself for a few seconds before saying, “Maybe you should talk to her about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“I dunno… Apologise, maybe?”

“Apologise?! What do I have to apologise for? I haven’t even done anything, she’s the one acting all -”

Percy was so wound up he didn’t catch Travis’s panicked expression until it was too late. The words died on Percy’s lips as he saw a flash of blonde hair in his periphery. He looked over just in time to see Annabeth stomping towards him, expression murderous. He stared at her, half of him wanting to run away and hide, half of him ecstatic at the chance to talk to her again, even if the talk was probably going to involve a lot yelling.

But she turned at the last second, heading in the direction of the beach, and just before she went Percy swore he saw a tear fall down her cheek. He wanted to call out after her, but he had no idea what to say. He watched her retreat, feeling sick to his stomach, and tried to figure out what the hell was happening to them.

Travis clapped a hand on his shoulder and clucked sympathetically. “Like I said, man - apologising might be the smart thing to do.”

Percy shrugged him off and snarled, “She’s the smart one, not me.”

.16 years old

Sometimes Annabeth needed some silence. After the war, it was a bumpy road to settle back into life at camp. Everything felt irrevocably different; she’d once confided to Percy that she couldn’t figure out whether it was the camp or her that had changed more, and nothing terrified Annabeth more than not having an answer.

A week after their return, he found her sitting on the beach, eyes red rimmed and shadowed. Apart from a slight tensing of her shoulders, Annabeth didn’t move when Percy sat down next to her. He propped his chin on her shoulder and gazed down at the shape she’d drawn in the sand - a trident. When he lifted the hand she was using to fingerpaint up to get a better look at the design, she brought her other one round and wiped some sand on his cheek.

He spluttered dramatically and wiped it away, shaking his head and trying to prevent her from doing it again. She was smiling as she climbed into his lap and wiggled her dirty fingers in front of his eyes, and he was laughing as he let her get in a cheap shot and smudge some sand on the tip of his nose.

If it hadn’t been for the shadows in her eyes, or the scratches on her skin, Percy almost wouldn’t have believed this was the same girl he went through Tartarus with. But of course it was; this Annabeth, now using her sleeve to clean his face, was the same Annabeth who’d fought with him through the deepest pits of hell, and she was the same Annabeth who’d kissed him for the first time in a volcano, and she was the same Annabeth as the girl who’d sat in the back of a Kindness International truck and made him feel like maybe they could be proper friends after all.

There were a million things Percy wanted to say to her; we’re home, we’re safe, we’re together; we made it, we did it, we won; I’m so proud of you, I love you. He wanted to thank her, for saving his life, over and over, in more ways than he could fathom.

But Percy had never been good with words.

So he grabbed her hands and held them still, and he kissed her, softly and sweetly, on the sand of the camp beach. He tried to pour every bit of emotion he had into that kiss. He tried to make it reassuring, and loving, and hopeful, and gentle, and everything that Percy had promised himself he was going to be for Annabeth, for the rest of his life. Her hands snaked into his hair, carding through the dark strands, and his arms wound around her waist and held her tight as they kissed, and in the end neither of them said anything at all.

After all, Percy had a feeling Annabeth already knew everything anyway.

#KuroMahiWeek Day 7: Mahiru’s Book of Friends

Prompt: AU

This has got to be the third time this week, and it’s only Tuesday.

I sprint along the path, tripping over roots, pushing through branches, running, running, running, deeper and deeper into the forest. I have no clue where I am. I have no clue where I’m going. I don’t even watch where I’m going. All my focus is on the shadows behind me, floating and huge, claws reaching for me, hollow, inhuman voices calling my name.

Shirota…

“The book! Give me the book!”

I swallow and run even faster. I’ve left the path now. The forest is getting thicker. The shadows behind me are still keeping up. My legs are getting heavier. Breathing is getting hard. I can’t keep going much longer… they’re going to–

Bright sunlight hits me in the face. Opening in front of me is a sudden clearing, right here in the middle of the forest. It looks bright green and calm and almost unnaturally round. I don’t pay much attention. I just run up to it. The ground there looks flat… I’ll be able to speed up again. Maybe I can manage to shake them off this time…

Something catches my foot, and a second later there’s the sound of something ripping in half.

Without a second thought I turn around and look down. A rope? Here?

There’s a low rumble. Then a roar. A tremor runs through the ground.

Crap. I unleashed something weird, didn’t I? Just what I need right now! Not!

I don’t look back. I just turn around, close my eyes and start running, faster than ever, and I don’t stop until I reach the end of the clearing and stumble over a root. The youkai’s voices have faded behind me. I peer over my shoulder…

The youkai are gone. Something black and enormous is blocking the way, a giant black mass of fur…

The next moment everything’s gone, and I’m alone on the edge of the clearing.

What just… happened?

Oh well. Looks like I got out of this safe, and that’s what matters. Seriously, what the hell is up with all those spirits? Just because I can see them… And they won’t even let me talk to them? What on earth is that book they’re talking about, anyway?

With an irritated sigh I turn around and make my way home. It takes some time to figure out where I am; we didn’t move here that long ago, and I’ve only been to this forest once before. And ever since we moved here I’ve been haunted by a bunch of spirits who can’t even say what they want from me. How do they even know my name in the first place, actually?

Uncle Tooru doesn’t bat an eye when I show up scratched, bruised and late again. He’s used to it by now. I think he’s worried, and I feel bad for him, but I think he knows me enough to trust me to stay safe.

I walk up the stairs to my room, open the door, and almost jump to the ceiling.

Lounging on the floor is a guy I’ve never seen before. He doesn’t look much older than me, tired, lanky, dressed in a coat in the middle of summer, and with huge bags under his eyes. If it wasn’t for his blue hair and red eyes I probably wouldn’t know what he is.

A freaking youkai. In my room.

“You!” I shout, slamming the door, walking over and picking him up in both hands. “What the hell are you doing in someone else’s room? Who are you, anyway?”

The guy groans and gives me a very, very tired look. “What a pain,” he says. “So noisy… You sure are a troublesome kid, huh?”

I lift him even higher. “Answer my question!”

“So troublesome.” The guy slumps in my hands. “All right, fine. I’m just your friendly neighborhood youkai. Who just got released after a nice, peaceful century under a seal.” He glares accusingly. “And it’s all your fault.”

That rope… the clearing… Could it be…?

“So?” I ask, half confused, half irritated. “I didn’t do it on purpose! I was running and I tripped!”

“Take care of me.”

Is he serious? “Like hell I will!”

“Take care of me. Otherwise I’m gonna eat you, or something.” He doesn’t look like he’d actually do it. “You owe me after making me deal with the outside world again.”

You…!

A knock on the window interrupts us. There’s a shadow floating outside, the same youkai who was chasing me earlier. A hand scrapes against the glass, a voice calls my name again. “Shirota!” it shouts. “Reiko! Give me the book! Give me the Book of Friends!”

Reiko…? Oh!

“You’ve got the wrong person!” I shout against the window. “Reiko was my mom, and she’s dead! I’m her son, Mahiru! Ma! Hi! Ru!”

The youkai in my room yawns and twinkles up at me. “You look like a girl to them, Mahiru.”

“You shut up!”

“Okay, okay.” The youkai yawns again, stretches, and gets up to his feet. “Hold on.”

There’s a flash of light, and a second later there’s a giant lion sitting next to me, glowering at the window. “Back off. I call dibs on him.”

The other youkai disappears in a second. The lion turns back into a human, who sits down and makes a face. “So troublesome.”

“That…” I gape at him, starry-eyed. “That was amazing! Thanks a lot, uh…”

“It’s Kuro.”

“I’ve got an idea, Kuro.” It’s probably not the best idea to make a deal with a spirit, but since this guy wants to stay at my place anyway, might as well ask something in return. “I look after you, but you have to become my bodyguard. How’s that sound?”

“Troublesome.” Kuro sighs, looks at me for a long moment, then he nods. “Deal.”

anonymous asked:

could you do one where the reader and spencer once dated didn't end so well, but they have to still work together and they have hatred for each other then while working on a case the U sub takes the reader and spencer doesn't realize what he left behind and they rescue her and they get admit they never stopped loving eahch other and lots of fluff (sorry if that's confusing )

Can you do imagine reid x reader based on we don’t talk anymore charlie puth song. The reader leave because spencer choosing maeve than her and few years later spencer realise that he can’t move on. Thankyouu

Not Anymore Part 1

Note- The team didn’t know about their relationship-
——-

We don’t talk anymore, we don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore, like we used to do
We don’t love anymore
What was all of it for?
Oh, we don’t talk anymore, like we used to do

Love was a force that inspired a lot of things. The magic of the feeling inspired a lot of things; poems, songs, stories, cheesy movies and that sort of thing. It was so addicting that even with the great risk of breaking your heart or losing the one you love due too unforeseen circumstances, we mere humans all flock to it like a moth to a flame.

When you first started having feelings for Dr. Reid, it felt so…warm. When he returned his affections you felt like you were wrapped in a blanket of protection and care. The both of you created beautiful memories in your time together.

It seemed the closest to perfect that two humans could possible have until Spencer started having headache problems, which led him to call a geneticist, Meave Donovan.

It’s funny….how that one call led to a relationship- if you could call it that. It was filled with meeting each other in secret behind your back, hushed phone calls, hidden messages. When you found out about her, you were heartbroken. Even with the constant reminders from Spencer that they weren’t doing anything sexual or even kissed, it still hurt you.

I just heard you found the one you’ve been looking for

“Spencer.” You approached him one morning, face still red from crying, eyes bloodshot. After a few months of dating you two had moved in together. At first it made you happy, everything of yours mixed together with his, but now you just wanted to take all of his belongings and throw them out the window or burn them. “You need to tell me the truth.”

He looked up from his coffee mug, eyebrows furrowing. “What do you want to know?” He questioned. You took a deep breath, about to begin when his phone buzzed. Your heart panged when you saw her name, and it felt almost soul-crushing when he turned away from you to start answering her back.

“This is exactly what I’m talking about.” You laughed wryly, your hand going though your hair. “You need to get your priorities in order. When the rare occasion occurs that we don’t have cases, we should be spending time with each other.”

“I spend plenty of time with you.” He said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. Your eyes widened at his actions and his words.

“Tell me exactly how much time is ‘plenty’ enough for the person you love?” You replied flabbergasted, following him as he started walking out the door. “Where are you going?”

“Meave said she needed to meet me.” He said as if it was the most simple thing in the entire universe. You laughed once more, not believing he was actually doing this to you. “I need you here! For goodness sakes’ we’re in the middle of a conversation Spencer!” you cried. “You and Meave cannot go on any longer, not unless you want to lose me.”

He didn’t seem to even be paying that much attention to you, as he opened the apartment door and started to leave. “I’ll talk to you a bit more about it later. Bye!” He called, the door shutting, the sound echoing throughout the apartment.

I wish I would have known that wasn’t me

You snapped the rubber band on your wrist, jumping at the painful contact. It was…as you recall.. the therapist said it was aversion therapy. Every time you thought out Spencer you were supposed to snap the band so that you would associate him with pain.

Cause even after all this time I still wonder
Why I can’t move on
Just the way you did so easily

It was like he didn’t even remember your existence at work. You guess he never really felt anything for you, that you were just a fun little plaything to pass the time with.

I just hope you’re lying next to somebody
Who knows how to love you like me
There must be a good reason that you’re gone
Every now and then I think you
Might want me to come show up at your door
But I’m just too afraid that I’ll be wrong

Don’t wanna know
If you’re looking into her eyes
If she’s holding onto you so tight the way I did before
I overdosed
Should’ve known your love was a game
Now I can’t get you out of my brain
Oh, it’s such a shame

Why the hell was it so impossible to let go of the past? It had been almost two years since you had left the apartment and yet every time you look at Spencer you just wanted everything to go back to normal. To be in that sweet phase when you two first started your relationship.

“Y/n.” Hotch’s voice drew you out of your thoughts, and you turned to look at him, face flushing seeing that he and the rest of the team were all sitting together, reviewing the case. You all were in the round room, discussing a new serial killer that was on the loose.

“Sorry.” You apologized sheepishly, pulling out the files. You saw Spencer staring at you and you sobered up, shoving your mixed feelings deep inside as you focused on Hotch and helped solve the case.

Several women who had popular online presences where abducted and found dead with a weapon similar to what made them popular. Amanda Kinley, who did cooking videos on YouTube, was found stabbed with a chef’s knife. Lauren Rutherford, a popular make-up tutor, was burned alive by her hair iron. Lastly, Delaney LeBel, a fitness trainer, was drowned in a swimming pool. The common thread between the three was that before they were murdered, their eyes were scooped out and ears were cut off.

It was all very puzzling.

You and the team talked about theories, Hotch ordering you both up in pairs to interview people, talk to local PD, etc. Once the meting adjourned you saw Spencer checking his phone, face practically lighting up from the name he read on the screen. No doubt it was Meave. You sighed heavily and walked right past him, reminding yourself that you needed to hit a bar sometime when you finished.

Don’t wanna know
If you’re looking into her eyes
If she’s holding onto you so tight the way I did before
I overdosed
Should’ve known your love was a game
Now I can’t get you out of my brain
Oh, it’s such a shame

That we don’t talk anymore.

(Spencer’s POV)

Spencer remembered the day he came home. The day he found all of your stuff gone. At first he was shocked that you didn’t say anything, that you just left, and while he was angry, he was also happy because that meant he was finally allowed to be with Meave.

Meave just seemed to understand him, somehow better than you. Maybe it w because she was smart and a geneticist, so they could talk a lot, but she ever seemed to make him laugh. Little stuff about her started bothering him, like the fact that she was whiny, or she never washed the dishes completely. They may be stupid facts but Spencer always seemed to compare you to her, and with everyday that passed by he started missing you.

He always knew that he should have paid attention to what you said before he left. Maybe then he wouldn’t have lost you.

We don’t talk anymore, we don’t talk anymore
We don’t talk anymore, like we used to do
We don’t love anymore
What was all of it for?
Oh, we don’t talk anymore, like we used to do

When they returned from the case you (very loudly) announced you were heading out to a bar, and that you would drive anyone who wanted to come with which resulted in Morgan, Garcia, and Tara following you. Spencer was wondering what was happening with you, wanting to ask you from the past few days about if you still missed him as much as he missed you.

That night when he returned home, he found Meave already in bed, the kitchen cluttered. He sighed heavily, almost tripping on lose clothes she had just left there. He bit his lip and headed to the kitchen, deciding he would just deal with it later. He just wanted to eat something but it seemed like Meave didn’t go shopping and so besides for ketchup, soft tortilla shells, and some lettuce, there was practically nothing.

The sound of his phone buzzing in his messenger bag started him, and he went to take it out, his footsteps echoing across the kitchen tiles. He saw poorly taken pictures from Garcia of all of you guys, noticing that you had changed into that familiar f/c dress. Another picture was sent of you dancing with a stranger, too close together for Spencer’s comfort.

Don’t wanna know
What kind of dress you’re wearing tonight
If he’s holding onto you so tight
The way I did before
I overdosed
Should’ve known your love was a game
Now I can’t get you out of my brain
Oh, it’s such a shame

The next day, you didn’t show up to work, the team figuring you had a massive hang-over. Because of all the over time you put in when you and Spencer first broke up, Hotch waved your absence…. but then everyone was worried when you didn’t show up the day after that.

Spencer took it into his own hands to go and see you, deciding that somehow it would be the perfect time to apologize to you. As someone great once said, “People do crazy things, when they’re in love.” Now, this seemed more stupid then crazy, but Meave drove Spencer to the brink of madness, and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

When he approached your door (after asking Garcia for your address), he noticed that something was off. He knocked, but no one answered. Eventually his knocking caught the attention of your neighbor, Mrs. Everett, a sweet, old woman.

“She’s not there boy.” She said with a dissatisfied look on her face.  Her dark hair looked rumpled and disorderly, probably being woken up from a nap. “She brought home a man yesterday, and I think they left. I heard a lot of particular sounds though.”

“Did you think nothing of it?” Spencer asked, his worry for you increasing. The woman shrugged.

“If you didn’t realize, I’m not exactly in the prime of my life, I don’t know what things kids do nowadays.”

‘I swear I’m a friend of Y/n’s, do you happen to have a spare key?“ She nodded, holding up her finger as she disappeared in her apartment to find it. “Just leave it on the counter when you’re done, I’m going back to bed.”

He unlocked the door after accepting the key from the old woman, seeing the apartment an utter mess. He knew you had your days, but this was concerning. Furniture was messed up, your fridge door was open, and cutlery all over the floor. He then noticed small scratches all over the floor and walls.

Spencer grabbed his phone and pressed an auto-dial number, the man picking up in a few seconds. “Hotch I think Y/n’s been kidnapped.”

lazyamara  asked:

I am loving all the IronPanther and WinterIronPanther going around, I mean, I liked IronPanther for a while now I can't even remember where that came from but WinterIronPanther is a recent addition :D anyways I have a prompt for IronPanther: T'challa tries to woo Tony, but Tony is super sceptical about it because T'challa is involved in a lot of business stuff, and whenever Tony was in a relationship with someone in the business world, it didn't end well (Ty & Sunset Bain) they get past it tho..

This is actually my second time trying to write this. I had a bunch of it before and my laptop did this thing and lost it and I got mad. It happens.

Not sure if this is what you wanted; I think the first time I wrote this I got the actual prompt more, but this one is more… idk, bits of it? Ah well. I hope you enjoy, and everyone else that requested I write IronPanther today enjoys!

—-

Rumors of the young Stark Industries CEO would have anyone believe that he was quite the easy catch.

T’Challa would have to disagree. Tony Stark was difficult to not only chase down, but nearly impossible to catch. Just when T’Challa would think he was getting somewhere, Tony Stark would slip away somehow. It was a good thing T’Challa was patient (at least, more so than his sister).

~*~*~

“Shit,” Tony muttered, turning and scanning the room with a bit of desperation. It was too early to deal with Ty, too soon, Tony felt too raw to handle their games. He should have known better, of course, but… well.

Ty may have had a point all the time he claimed to be smarter than Tony. At least business-wise. Tony was probably smarter when it came to creating-

“You look like someone looking for a way out of a trap,” a familiar, uniquely accented voice noted.

Tony turned to it with some relief and a lot of trepidation. Hopefully this wouldn’t be a case of ‘out of the frying pan into the fire’.

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cupcakeblake  asked:

are you taking prompts? if so could you do something with "we're just friends / she is, i'm not" for jily? :D

sorry it took so long <3 <3

It’s kind of surreal being friends with Lily Evans.

For one, James never really thought it would actually happen. Their first meeting ended terribly, with Lily throwing a bottle of water at him and calling him an arrogant toerag which. Well, he guesses he kind of deserved it, simultaneously hitting on her and insulting her in one go.

And to be honest, he didn’t even expect to get as far as friendship with her. He was content to stay in the ‘mostly irritating but sometimes amusing’ category because at least he got to see her, and then whine about how pretty her hair is and have you seen her eyes they’re amazing to Sirius over drinks.

But then they did become friends.

Very, very, close friends.

James isn’t sure if he hates it or loves it. Probably some combination of the both.

Lily lives with her sister, but the two of them are always having some sort of falling out, so she’s always coming over to his and Sirius’ flat, so much so that she has her own keys and her hard lemonade has replaced the coconut water his best mate keeps in the fridge.

They’re very close friends in the sense that she keeps her toiletries in his bathroom because he has the shower with better water pressure, not to mention the actual tub. Not mention that half his closet is filled with her clothes and the first time he found her knickers in the laundry basket (black with a polka dot print and lace trimming which he really did not need to know) James turned bright red and almost keeled over right then and there. It provided fuel for wisecracks for the next week.

Close friends in the sense that her official spot is next to him during group outings, that she’s liable to fall asleep curled into him during movie nights, that she steals his hoodies and makes him race against her in Mario Kart, keeping up a steady stream of smack talk and roughly shoving her shoulder into his while she laughs.

It’s the best.

It’s also the worst.

And James is undeniably, 100% fucked.

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missmoony07  asked:

Hi! glad you're back! I don't know if this has been done before but an idea have been rounding my head: About how Astrid got her fur hoodie, I have a headcanon about it, that Astrid and Hiccup went together shopping into trader Johann ship, while Hiccup was doing his shopping Astrid was looking the furs, but didn't buy anything, of course Hiccup saw and while she wasn't looking, bought the fur and made the hoodie as a surprise gift. Hope this helps with your inspiration ^_^ bye!

A/N: Okay. Okay, I just really, really, really really really loved this prompt.

Like, seriously, I had so much fun writing it. Thank you so, so much for sending it in- I hope you enjoy reading it! <3 

As I wrote this, towards the end, I ended up thinking about this fabulous comic drawn by the talented @kadeart! I believe in giving credit to where credit is due, so just as this lovely headcanon was from @missmoony07, the  final scene of the fic was inspired by kadeart’s comic! Many thanks to you both!


Just Fur You (HAH. IT’S A PUN.)

Hiccup knew how to pay attention to detail, but when it came to Astrid, he really knew how to pay attention to detail.

He noticed the way her eyes shone when she was amused, and the way she’d scrunch up her nose just the tiniest bit when she was thinking. He noticed the way she’d push some of her hair out of her face when she was marginally flustered; the way she’d roll her eyes, but still smile, whenever he pitched an idea…

At this moment, though, Hiccup noticed the way that she carefully drew her fingers over a pale fur pelt on Johann’s ship, and raked her eyes over it in a contemplative manner.

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Shot for Shot

Summary: Levi has a thing for Petra, though he’s not going to be the first to admit it. When she pulls out a bottle of whiskey for them to share, they make a game of it and decide to get to know each other better. Rivetra. Pretty much PG-13.

He never really got to watch her fight. In the middle of action, Levi would have to focus on his own kill and leading the crew. It didn’t leave much time for watching the others operate. So it was a rare treat when he had a moment to see his squad at work.

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Not So Alone

Warning: Sadness, a lot of sadness

Pairing: Newt x Reader

Request: Can I have a Newt imagine? Reader gets stung and doesn't make it, Newt is heartbroken as he is there when she dies and she is what drive him off the maze walls. Thomas asks about Newt’s limp and Newt remembers her. Sadness thanks x

Authors note: Okay I cried when reading your request, it’s just why? I hope I've done it okay though. It’s my first one like this so please tell me if I should never do them like this ever again because it’s bad. It’s written in a flashback kind of way. So the bits in italics are the stuff Newts remembering. 

Newt crouched over, hacking away at all the weeds. He was showing the new Greenie Thomas the ropes. They worked in silence until Thomas stopped and stared at Newt, curiosity filling his brown eyes. “Newt,” he said, causing the blonde boy to stop and look up, “Why do you have a limp?” Newt sighed and looked away, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, as the memories came flooding back to him, threatening to drown him in the pain he tries so hard to forget.

He looked up at the maze walls. He hated having to let you go out into the maze everyday, but in the end, he didn't really have a choice. 

Once you learned about the runners, it was your sole intention to become one. And with a lot of convincing, he finally caved. After all, running made you happy, and all he ever wanted was for you to be happy. He loved you, loved you with every fibre of his being, and it pained him to let you go out into a dangerous place like the maze. You were the one thing in this place that kept him sane, yet you were also the one thing that could drive him to insanity.

He stopped you as you headed out the huge doors with Minho, pulling you into a deep and passionate kiss. Then you parted, waved a quick goodbye, and spun on your heel, running out into the dreaded maze. In his eyes, you were the most beautiful thing in the world. It felt a privilege to be able to gaze at you everyday, and know that you were his. Your smile was so big it lit up all your amazing features. Brightening your entire countenance. Your eyes were always filled with so much joy and happiness. Your laugh so angelic and infectious, that even the slightest giggle escaping your lips could ignite a laugh in every Glader that heard it. 

The day passed just as every other did, until Minho came running in from the maze, dragging your limp body with him. Immediately Newt dropped everything he was doing to rush to your side. He took you in his arms and carried you into the Medjacks hut. He placed you gently on the bed before proceeding to slam Minho into the wall, yelling with such ferocity that spit flew out of his mouth, “What happened to her?”

“She-she got stung! The Griever, it came out of nowhere. We did everything we could to get away, but it got her!“ Minho said, in between breaths. 

Newt paused as the memories became too much. The image of your bloodied body haunted his nightmares. Every time he closed his eyes you were there, screaming, yelling at him. Accusing him of doing this to you. Repeating the same thing over and over again. Making sure the message he already knew was true stuck inside his head. That it was all his fault. 

Silence. It filled the room, hung in the air like a pungent stench. Reminding everyone of the horrible truth. You were gone.

He would never hear you laugh again.

Never see you smile.

Never feel the warmth of your skin.

Never, never, never know you again.

Clint and Jeff didn't know what happened. They patched you up as best they could, gave you the grief serum. But it didn't work. Nothing worked. You just kept bleeding. You kept growing colder every second. And he didn't even get to say goodbye.

You were gone. Cruelly taken by the sick bastards that put you all in there. Killed by whichever twisted individual invented the disgusting creature that prowled outside these walls, almost as much of a monster as the person who created it. 

Why did this have to happen? What did you do, what did any of you do to deserve a fate like this? You were so kind, so sweet. You didn't deserve to die. And it was all his fault. He’s second in command, he should have stopped you. He shouldn’t have let you leave. He knew how dangerous it is, why did he let you go? 

All these thoughts swirled around inside Newts head. Getting louder and louder every second he looked at your lifeless body. They were going to bury you tonight, at the camp fire. It was always you’re favourite time. And now it would be cursed with the memory of you. Haunted by your ghost in his mind. He couldn't do it. He couldn’t live on without you, he had nothing worth staying for now that you were gone. And he had until sunset to do something about it. 

Newt hated reliving these memories. But he didn’t have a choice. He was reminded of them every day. Every time he closed his eyes to go to sleep. Every time he sat at the camp fire. Every time he walked past those blasted doors. Every time he was reminded of you. Of your angelic beauty. He had no idea how someone so beautiful could end up in such an ugly place like this. And you didn’t stay for as long as he had hoped. He could easily lie to Tommy. Say that he doesn’t remember what happened, that he arrived in the box like this. It would be so much easier, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t lie about you, he couldn’t let you down again. So instead Newt closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and let the memories wash over him.

The Glade was quiet, too quiet. No one could truly believe you were gone. It was weird. Unsettling seeing everyone in the Glade so overcome with grief that they didn't have the energy to do anything other than a few basic chores. And even then it was in a solemn silence. It didn't take a lot for Newt to sneak out, no one was paying much attention to the doors anyway. The runners had  taken the day off. So there was no real reason for anyone to bother looking at them. 

Newt paused before he stepped out into the dark corridors. A war was raging inside himself. He was struggling between the instinct inside of him to stay in the Glade where it was safe. And the desperate part of him that knew he didn't deserve to be safe inside these walls. He knew that it was his fault, because he let you go out where he knew it wasn't safe, he knew you could get hurt, but he let you go anyway. And he couldn't forgive himself for it. You were gone. Dead. And it was all his fault. So he deserved to die too, as penance for his disgusting crime. So he stepped out into the dark hall. 

He didn't think about where he was going. He just wondered aimlessly through the maze. It didn’t matter. He had nothing left without you. There was no point in him staying in this godforsaken place if you weren’t there with him. So when he found a length of ivy he deemed long enough he stopped his aimless wondering and began to climb. 

As he climbed he thought about you. About all the little things you did. The way you always laughed at everyone’s jokes, even when they weren’t funny. About the adorable snores that escaped your mouth every night when you slept wrapped up in his arms. About the twinkle you would get in your beautiful eyes after you had drank some of Gally’s  special brew. 

Newt remembered about one night, it seemed ages ago but it seared fresh inside his mind. It was a night of a bonfire, everyone was drinking Gally’s brew and messing about. Just having fun while they could. You came up to him with a devilish smile on your angelic face. Never before had you looked more beautiful in his eyes, then again he thought that every time he looked at you. You grabbed his hand and dragged him away from the other Gladers, but still close enough that you were in the shadow of the flames. Then you did something Newt would never have expected. Soundlessly you grabbed his hands and pulled him into you, and started dancing. There was no music but both of you danced in time, your movements in sync and elegant. Then Newt did something he would never have expected, he leaned in and kissed you. And you didn’t stop him. That had been the beginning of your relationship. The best thing that had ever happened to him.

Then he remembered the first time you arrived in the Glade. You were so confused, just like everyone else, but he hated seeing you so lost. So he helped you more then he had any other Greenie. The more he got to know you, the more he fell in love with you. Yes, you were beautiful on the outside, but you were even more so on the inside. He fell in love with your amazing personality. You were so kind, so loyal, so brave. You didn’t deserve what happened to you. 

Lastly, he remembered the thing that would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life. After you were stung Newt didn’t leave your side. He stayed right next you for three days. For three days he watched you suffer. You didn’t wake, not properly. You would scream from the agonising pain you had to endure. A shrill screech that he would never get to leave his mind. Sweat coated your body as you shivered on the bed. No one knew what was happening. But you just weren’t getting better. And it broke Newt’s heart seeing you like that. He watched you die slowly and painfully for three whole days. Until eventually your heart just stopped. 

Newt couldn’t climb any more. His arms where shaking, so he gave up. He shut his eyes and focused on the memory of you. You smiling and laughing, enjoying your life in the Glade. With you in his thoughts he released his grip on the ivy and began his descent. 

“Newt, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you” Thomas said, glancing down at the older boy. Tears were running down his face and he didn’t even bother to wipe them away. He just let them fall. 

“It’s okay Tommy,” Newt said, standing up. He clapped the Greenie round the shoulder before walking away. Needing a breather. But before he could get too far Thomas called out to him again. 

“Hey Newt, if you…did what you did, how come you didn’t, you know die” He asked, a little awkward with the question he was asking but his curiosity won out over everything else. 

Newt smiled at the question, glancing at Minho and Alby on the other side of the Glade before turning back to Thomas and answering, “I guess I wasn’t as alone as I thought.” 

**24/24**

Mrs Hudson had left them to it with a rather saucy wink - I’m sure you want to be alone now, boys - but not before they had agreed on a cup of tea accompanied by homemade mince pies and shortbread in their landlady’s kitchen later that afternoon - We really need to talk about the damage to my wall, Sherlock! - and now, ten minutes later, Sherlock and John were still standing next to each other in the kitchen.

After a while Sherlock broke the companiable silence and cleared his throat. John glanced at him then and saw that his eyes were slowly travelling around their kitchen, their flat - their home - taking in the way it had changed since breakfast. Eventually Sherlock leaned forward to place the empty plate he had been holding all the time on the kitchen table.

‘You really could not refrain from putting up that weed, could you?’

'I told you I would.’

'You did indeed.’

Sherlock pushed himself off from the sink and padded barefoot into the living room, passing the prettily tied twigs of mistletoe without paying them any heed. John’s eyes followed the smooth and elegant movements of his long bare legs and the twitching round and firm buttocks in the black briefs, more than content to finally be allowed to ogle him so unashamedly. When Sherlock was out of sight he hurriedly followed him into the living room.

Sherlock was glancing at the strings of fairylight which seemed to be everywhere, his eyebrows raised mockingly and he actually snorted when the rakishly decorated moose registered. John held his breath when Sherlock stopped in front of the wall adorned by the yellow smiley, now covered with the splendid bunch of mistletoe and the blinking fairy lights. John could see from the way Sherlock’s shoulders tensed and heaved that he was quietly laughing.

'I really messed that up, didn’t I?’

'Sorry?’

John was sure he had misheard and frowned. Sherlock Holmes admitting that he messed up, that he was wrong? That must be another first among all the firsts of the last hours.

'Well, it won’t happen again.’ Sherlock reacted to John’s unspoken thoughts.

He can read my thoughts even though he is not even looking at me - John thought - That’s bloody great!

And I’d be grateful if this little confession stayed within these four walls, John,’ Sherlock continued. 'No need for Lestrade to know!’

'I never …’ John protested, but Sherlock interrupted him. 'Yes, you do. He’s your confidant after all. I can’t blame you, I guess I just did not pay you enough attention. Won’t happen again either.’

'Right - Good.’ John nodded. 'About that smiley…’ he started and took another step forward, just when Sherlock turned around and stopped him.

'No, stay exactly where you are!’

'What? Why on earth should I do that?’

Sherlock did not answer, but pointed to something above John’s head. He quickly closed the gap between them and gently touched John’s shoulders.

'I believe it is my right to ask for a kiss when I catch you underneath this … plant.’

'It might be,’ John said, trying hard not to grin. 'It’s just that you told me not too long ago that all this mumbo jumbo was sentimental nonsense nobody really cared for!’

'Did I?’ Sherlock knitted his brow, pretending to think hard and long. 'You must be mistaken, John. I can’t remember having said anything like that in the past twenty-four hours!'Sherlock smirked and not waiting for a further reply he bent down to claim John’s lips in a tender Christmas kiss.

When they broke off, he cupped John’s face in his warm hands and fixed his gaze on him. His eyes were bright and his gaze intense and serious, and John nodded.

Yes - to whatever sentiment was dancing through this brilliant brain - Yes!

Sherlock smiled in silent understanding and then kissed him again.

'Merry Christmas, my John.’

***The End***

Merry Christmas indeed, my dears!

Thank you so much for reading. This story helped me to overcome my writer’s block as it was a great incentive to fill this Advent Calendar for you. I know, it’s nothing special, but it’s fluffy and Johnlocky and it was fun to write.

A big thank you to all of you who read and liked and reblogged this fic :)

JJ